by Mary Campisi
“She’s sick. It’s terminal.”
Tess clutched the handle to steady herself but didn’t turn around. “Is that why she came?”
“Yes. She wants us to take care of the boy when she’s gone.”
MIMI PENDERGRASS WASN’T a gossip or a worrywart; she’d seen her share of joy and tragedy and shed enough tears for both. She said life happened in good and painful measures and the only ones who didn’t know tears and heartache were the dead or the sorry souls who’d closed themselves off to caring. How many times had the dang woman repeated her never-give-up-on-a-happy-ending mantra? Hard to say and harder to say how a woman who’d lost a son, a husband, and suffered the estrangement of a daughter could still hold onto hope. Pop didn’t know how she did it but the woman was more resilient than the patch of oregano taking over a spot in his backyard.
When Mimi landed on Pop’s doorstep that afternoon, face flushed, dangle-ball earrings bobbing her agitation, he shooed her inside and sat her down with a plate of pizzelles and a glass of the cucumber-water concoction Lucy made up that morning. “Now tell me what’s got you so worked up.” Pop sank into the chair next to her, snatched a pizzelle. “I haven’t seen you this frazzled since the time you thought you lost Ramona Casherdon’s recipe for pumpkin spice cake.” He chuckled. “Remember how you fretted over it, said you didn’t have the nerve to tell her you lost the recipe?” Another chuckle. “Found it in your sweater pocket, all folded nice and neat, remember that?”
Mimi shot him a look that said she’d rather not recall the incident. “If Ramona weren’t so dang persnickety, I could have admitted my mistake and simply asked for another copy. But I did not want to hear the sigh or witness the evil-eye stare, so I did what any other resident in town would do when faced with Ramona Casherdon’s ire. I tore my house apart until I found that blasted recipe.”
“Hmm.” Pop bit into a pizzelle, chewed. “Seems you dragged a few helpers to locate the recipe, if I recall.” He nodded and added, “And wasn’t I one of those helpers?”
His friend’s blue eyes sparkled but she ignored him and sipped her water. “Tasty.”
Pop grinned. “That’s my granddaughter’s handiwork. Better watch it or she’ll start concocting and might beat out that hibiscus tea of yours as a town favorite.”
Mimi took another sip, nodded. “That she might.”
“Since she and Jeremy Ross Dean became an official couple, they’ve been spending a lot of time in the kitchen, cooking and creating. I said I’m fine by that and you can use my kitchen anytime as long as you’re not cooking or creating anything else.” He gave her a you-know-what-I-mean look and finished with “I’m talking about a baby” just in case she didn’t understand the lingo.
“Oh, Pop.” Mimi shook her head until the dangle-ball earrings bobbed side to side. “You can’t stop human nature or the powers of attraction any more than you can keep the sky from turning blue. Trust, me, I’ve tried.”
She meant her daughter and the rift between them that drove the young woman away, kept her gone all these years with no word to her mother, not even a Christmas card. Word had it a man was involved, along with a chunk of money from Mimi’s bank account and Lord knew what else. Mimi never said and Pop never asked; some things were too painful to admit and this might be one of them. He cleared his throat, pushed the past away, and said, “What’s got you so rattled?”
“My new guests.” Her blue eyes darkened with worry and annoyance. “They arrived yesterday from Ohio. A woman and a boy who might be nine or ten. The second they walked through the door, I got an upset in the pit of my stomach that hasn’t let up.”
Pop waited, his hand resting on the arm of his chair. When Mimi didn’t expand on the statement, he prodded. “You like kids. I’ve seen you with Harry’s bunch and Wanda Cummings’s grandchildren. What’s the fuss? Worried the boy’s gonna break one of those fancy collectibles you got cluttering up the place?”
She shot him a look that said he’d better watch his comments or she might conk him with one of those collectibles. “I wish it were only worry over a broken dish.” Her thin lips pulled into a frown and she leaned forward, lowered her voice. “It’s the boy, Pop. He’s the spitting image of Daniel Casherdon.”
“Cash?” Pop squinted as if that would bring Mimi’s words into focus. “You saying the boy looks like Cash?” How in the Lord’s name could that be possible? Cash loved his wife; they were trying to have a baby…
“I’m saying anybody who knows Cash will know that’s his boy.” She shook her head, clutched the arms of the chair. “And it’s going to break Tess’s heart when she finds out.”
“Good Lord, but this is a mess.” Pop blew out a breath, imagined that poor girl learning that the man she loved had a baby with another woman. What torment! And Cash? That boy would protect his wife from anything, but he couldn’t protect her from his past, now could he? Dang shame. “Does Cash know yet? Tell me what’s going on and why didn’t you call me the second they walked into the Heart Sent?”
“I could barely get a breath what with the shock of seeing the boy. Just wait, Pop, you’ll see what I mean.”
Pop rubbed his forehead, blinked hard. “We got to come up with a plan to get them out of town. The sooner the better.” He slid a look at Mimi. “How about I pay a visit to the Heart Sent? See what I can find out?”
Mimi shook her head. “Absolutely not. You’ve got to let Cash handle this one until we know more of the story.”
“So, we sit back and do nothing?” It wasn’t in Pop’s nature to let those he cared about fight a battle alone, especially if the deck were stacked with a child who looked like Daniel Casherdon.
Mimi placed a hand on his, worked up a smile. “We’re fighters, Pop. We don’t give up and we don’t give in, especially if those we care about are threatened. But right now, we don’t have a clue what we’re dealing with other than what looks like a child who belongs to Cash. You’ve got to wonder if it happened right after he and Tess broke up and why the woman kept it a secret, since my guess is Cash has no idea he has a child…or didn’t until this trip.”
Pop rubbed his jaw, considered Mimi’s words. “We’ve seen more battles than most, haven’t we, Mimi?” When her smile spread, he nodded. “We can help Cash and Tess get through this if we keep our heads and collect as much information as possible. Start taking notes on the sly. One of those two says something, pull out your pad and jot it down. We’ll figure out the who and the why soon enough.”
TESS HAD ALWAYS LOVED VISITING the Heart Sent, had thought about the couples who passed through, the weddings that resulted afterward, and had even booked a night with her husband in the honeymoon suite last Valentine’s Day—rose petals included. But as she sat on the couch with Cash beside her, she didn’t think of couples or love or happy days. She thought of the boy upstairs waiting to be introduced to his father for the first time, and she also thought of the woman who sat in the striped wingback chair across from them, looking fresh, wholesome, and a bit too attractive. A coffee table and a lot of unknown separated them, much of it murky, disjointed, and petrifying.
“Thank you for coming.” Stephanie Richmond smiled at them, her pale face lighting up with what looked like true pleasure. “I know this is very awkward and shocking, but I’m grateful for the opportunity to speak with both of you.”
Cash clasped Tess’s hand, squeezed tight. “Given the situation we’re all in—” he paused, cleared his throat “—we’ve got to cut through the niceties and get to the guts.”
The woman’s smile spread and her dark eyes sparkled. “You always did have a way with words. Very succinct.”
He laughed. “That’s me. Mr. Sophisticated.”
Tess stiffened, darted a look from Stephanie Richmond to her husband. The familiarity between them bothered her. Cash could talk like that to Christine, Bree, or Gina and she wouldn’t think a thing about it, but he hadn’t slept with them. “This is a real predicament, isn’t it? We have a sick mo
ther who’s looking for a home for her child, a husband who didn’t know he was a father, and a wife who’s stuck in the middle.” Tess ignored Cash’s scowl and the pressure on her hand and pushed out the rest of her thoughts. “And somehow we’re all going to make this look like a family, maybe as though it were God’s will or divine intervention?” She let out a sound some might call a snort. “We’re just kidding ourselves if we think that’s what this is.”
“Tess. Enough.” Cash turned to her, frowned. “We need to sort through this and it’s not going to help any of us if you start throwing darts.”
Really? She pinched her lips together and withdrew her hand from his. “Interesting, that you’re already siding with someone you haven’t seen in ten years. Who’s to say she’s anything like the person you remembered, or that she doesn’t have a whole separate agenda?” She eyed Stephanie. “I’m not trying to be rude, but we don’t know you and without a DNA test, we don’t even know if the boy you claim belongs to Cash is really his.”
The woman squared her shoulders, said in a quiet voice, “Mason is Cash’s son.”
“Right. Maybe.” Tess pushed away the image of the boy, smothered the wavy hair and brown eyes with doubt and a load of questions. “Why don’t we let a DNA test prove it?”
“Tess—”
“No, Cash.” Stephanie held up her hand. “Tess is right. A DNA test is the right thing to do.” She turned to Tess, her gaze direct. “I’m willing to answer any questions you might have and I support your request for a DNA test.”
The woman’s words pinched Tess’s brain. If Stephanie Richmond were really dying, how could she be so logical, so calm, so darn rational? Was she faking it or had she accepted the inevitable fate of death? The first made her a despicable creature, but the second likened her to a saint. Which was worse? Tess cleared her throat, determined not to lose her temper again and murmured, “Thank you.”
Cash blew out a harsh breath, an obvious sign of annoyance—with her. “Thanks, Steph.” He didn’t look at Tess when he said, “Can you provide my wife with the basics and a timeline of what led up to you coming to Magdalena?” His voice shifted when he added, “And then I’d like to meet Mason.”
Tess listened for the next twenty-two minutes as Stephanie recounted the move to Ohio, learning she was pregnant, and deciding not to tell Cash. She’d grown misty-eyed with this admission, and Tess wondered if the reason behind the almost tears could be Cash or her dead husband. Love or regret? Had Stephanie wished Cash were her husband or had she wished her husband were still alive and the father of her child? There were too many questions and right now Tess couldn’t handle the answers.
“I was in marketing and advertising until I had to leave last year. The oncologist told me straight up that this was a difficult cancer, but we were hopeful and it looked like I’d gone into remission. Oh, we knew I wouldn’t make it to see Mason graduate high school, but we hoped it would be longer than this.” She met Tess’s gaze, her eyes bright with tears. “I’m really okay with dying, but it’s the worry over Mason that keeps me awake. I’m so afraid for him.” Her voice cracked, fell apart. “Who’ll take care of him? He’s so smart and kind, with a good heart and an ear for music.” The tears spilled from her cheeks to her neck but she didn’t seem to notice as she kept her gaze trained on Tess. “Do you know he can play the opening chords to ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ on his guitar? Figured it out all by himself.” Her lips pulled into a faint smile. “He plays it for me at night; sometimes he sings, too.”
Tess did not want to witness the other woman’s grief when she had years of her own stored in her soul, but she couldn’t look away. Such love, such devotion, such sadness, wrapped in words and tears. Was this what happened when you loved a child so completely? Was the pain of leaving him behind so great, the fear so intense, that you did not think of your pain, but his? Did you want to protect him until you drew your very last breath? Emotion clogged Tess’s brain, made it impossible to speak.
It was Cash who pulled them through. “It doesn’t get much better than Lynyrd Skynyrd. You taught him well.”
She nodded her dark head. “He prefers vinyl. Who ever heard of a nine-year-old listening to records?” Her voice turned soft. “But he’s no ordinary boy. He tries to take care of me, brings me breakfast on the days I’m slow to get out of bed. That’s not a child’s job but Mason says we need to take care of one another.”
“Isn’t there anyone else?”
Stephanie shook her head and swiped both hands over her cheeks. “Mason and I have been everything to each other since the day he was born: mother, father, grandparent, aunt, uncle, and friend. It’s just how it always was and it was enough.” Another sniff. “We never needed anyone else before. He’s a special boy. Would you like to meet him?”
She directed the question at Tess, probably because it was more than obvious Cash wanted to meet his son. Tess wished she could observe the boy without him seeing her but that was silly since his mother had most likely already informed him of his potential future stepmother. The very word held fairytale connotations of evil and cruel; did Mason think Tess might be that way? Did she care? There were so many emotions swirling inside her head and her heart that she didn’t know what she wanted, much less what she felt. “I would like to meet him, but before I do, I want to know if you still care for my husband.”
“Of course I care for him. He’s the father of my child.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Tess!” Cash turned on her, his expression fierce. “Damn it, what’s wrong with you?”
“It’s a simple question, one that needs asking.”
“I agree.” Stephanie darted a glance from Cash to Tess. “It’s a fair question considering the circumstances. No, I’m not in love with Cash.” Her dark eyes narrowed a fraction. “I never was in love with him. I’m not sure what he told you, but I loved my husband and when he died I didn’t know if I could go on. We’d just started talking about having a family and he’d tease me about sympathy weight gain and making ice cream runs at midnight.” Her lips pulled into a tender smile. “Lewis had the worst sweet tooth. He was looking forward to the ice cream, brownies, and chocolate chip cookies.” She blinked hard, pinched the bridge of her nose. “And then he was gone, and so were the dreams, the laughter, the hopes, leaving nothing but a black hole where our future lived.”
“You don’t have to do this, Steph.” Cash pinned Tess with a hard stare. “My wife can wait another day for the play-by-play.”
“No, she can’t, Cash. Don’t you see how important it is to her? We know the truth about us, but she doesn’t and she should. I’d want to know. Lewis and Cash worked together, but Cash was the one risking his life every day while my Lewis did most of his police work at a desk. He was hauling soil for the new garden bed he’d promised me when he had a massive heart attack and died. Thirty-eight years old. It hit the whole force hard, but especially Cash. I was so broken and lost; that’s when I turned to Cash. I wanted to feel something again, anything, but it only made me feel worse. I’d dragged him into something he’d never wanted and I have to live with that guilt. We were only together a few times when he broke it off, said he couldn’t do it.” Her gaze slid to Cash and she smiled. “He’s a real gentleman and one of the kindest men I’ve ever met, but he wasn’t ready for a relationship, at least not with me. I knew he had his own grief deep inside and I figured it had to do with a woman but we never talked about it.” She swiped her eyes, looked at Tess. “I’m guessing you were that woman. That’s why I moved away, and why I had no intention of ever telling him about Mason. Then I got sick, and when I learned of the prognosis, I got scared for my son. I didn’t know what else to do but come here.” She shrugged, cleared her throat. “I’ve accepted my fate, but what I’m struggling with is what will happen to Mason. I have to know he’s cared for and loved.” Her voice cracked. “I have to know that he’s all right, that he won’t be alone.” Her dark eyes turned bright, brighter still
. “So, what I really want to know is if you might find a way to look past how he came to be here, and open your heart to him, maybe come to care about him, love him even?”
The words that spilled from Cash’s ex-lover’s lips almost broke Tess’s heart. The boy was an innocent and did not deserve to be punished. He was a child who was about to lose the only parent he’d ever known. He needed hope and he needed love. Cash and Tess could give him both. Tess bit her bottom lip, tried to calm herself. Life really did take strange twists and turns, challenging you in ways you never thought possible. She reached for her husband’s hand, clasped it tightly, and said, “We’d like to meet Mason now.”
3
A man can never be prepared for the moment he learns he’s a father. In Cash’s case, it was nine years after the boy’s birth, but when Mason Frederick Richmond walked into the room, Cash had to fight for a breath. The boy was long and lean with light brown hair and a tan that said he spent as much time outside as he could. He had Cash’s mouth, his jaw; damn, the kid had his ears, but it was the dark brown eyes with flecks of gold that told Cash he could get a DNA test, but this was his kid. The boy moved closer, extended a hand. “I’m Mason.”
Cash shook his hand, noted the strong grip. “Cash.” He turned and motioned to Tess. “And this is Tess.”
She hesitated a split second, then stood and shook his hand. “Hello, Mason.”
The boy nodded. “Hi.”
He eyed her with the same look Cash used when he was piecing together an investigation and something wasn’t quite fitting in. Maybe the kid was thinking about her as a stepmother or wondering if she was the deal breaker for him. How much did the boy know about his mother’s plans? No kid wanted to feel abandoned. Cash knew all about that and it was hell. It played games with your head for a long time, left residual bits of anger and distrust you could never quite erase. That’s what had happened to him and if it hadn’t been for Tess, he’d be a lot worse off than an occasional outburst of irrational behavior. “I hear you play the guitar.” Cash grinned. “‘Sweet Home Alabama.’”