by Mary Campisi
She lifted a slender shoulder, avoided his gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Will you be here when I get back or will you just disappear? Like you did last time?”
“That is not fair.” Those green eyes burned him. “This is nothing like last time.”
“Isn’t it? Aren’t you setting the stage to run away from me like you did when JJ died? You make up your own mind, even if you’re so far off base you’re in another ball field, but you don’t care about anything but getting away.” The more he spoke, the angrier and more desperate he became. “Why do you get to make the choices that affect both of us? Don’t you think I’m hurting, too?” She clamped her mouth shut, stared at him. “Yeah, Daniel Casherdon doesn’t show his feelings, does he? Naw, he’s a tough guy, and besides, he’s too busy making sure his wife doesn’t fall apart every time she sees a baby to show his real feelings.”
“Stop it. Don’t make this about the past. You’re putting our marriage in jeopardy by trusting a woman you only think you know. She’s dangerous and you refuse to see it.” The tears were gone, the sadness too, replaced with an emotion he couldn’t identify. Maybe because it didn’t look like emotion at all. It looked like a whole lot of emptiness where feeling and love used to be. Tess squared her shoulders, stared straight at him and said, “When this marriage falls apart and that woman’s behind it, remember that I tried to warn you.”
CASH WAS LEAVING in two days. He might as well already be gone because since the confrontation yesterday, they’d been civil yet guarded toward each other. They’d eaten a meal together once but Tess’s stomach had been so twisted, she could barely chew her food. While they’d slept in the same bed, a king-size left a lot of room to ensure there was no touching. There’d been no talking either as Cash waited until he thought she was asleep to come to bed. Of course, she hadn’t been sleeping, though she did a good job keeping her breathing patterns even and her eyes closed. She hadn’t slept a full night since Stephanie Richmond invaded her life. Tess just wanted the woman gone so she could think. Mason deserved a chance and it wasn’t fair to let his mother’s agenda or his father’s blindsidedness ruin that chance. That’s why Tess needed time and distance to sort it all out and come to terms with the reasons behind her husband’s behavior—largely his parents’ abandonment—and find a way to forgive that behavior and move on. Cash had promised the trip would last no longer than ten days, which was better than the initial “up to two months’” timeframe he’d mentioned. This was a start and she’d take it.
Tess spent the morning washing the deck furniture and weeding the flowerbeds. Gina refused to give up on her, no matter how many plants she killed, and said the key to a successful garden was weeding, soil amendment, proper light conditions, and water. That was a lot more than a “key” but when Gina talked flowers, she lit up like she did when she looked at her husband and son. Pop Benito said nature could calm a person right down, make them see the good in the world, and forget the bad. Tess dug up a dandelion, tossed it in the wheelbarrow, and went to work on the next one. She’d gotten half of the root dug up when Stephanie Richmond’s car pulled up the driveway. What did the woman want now? Tess had hoped she wouldn’t have to see her again. It might sound cruel, considering she claimed she had less than five months to live, but the inconsistency in her words and actions made Tess wonder if Stephanie were telling the truth. More than one woman had created backstories, illnesses, even fake children, to get what they wanted—often money and a man. She didn’t even try to pretend a smile when the woman approached her. What was the point? Tess flipped her sunglasses onto her head, met Stephanie’s gaze. “Cash is working.”
“I didn’t come to see Cash.” She paused, lowered her voice enough to unload a hunk of sympathy, and said, “Please tell me you aren’t going to leave Cash.”
“What?” Why would she say that?
The woman clasped her hands, shook her head. “Cash was very upset yesterday. Whatever happened between you is tearing him apart. He’s convinced you’re going to leave him.” Her eyes grew bright, her voice soft. “He loves you, and I know you love him. You can’t leave him.”
The last thing Tess wanted to do was have a conversation with Cash’s ex-lover about the problems they were having because of her. “I’m not going anywhere.” But I think that’s exactly what you’d like me to do.
“I never wanted Cash to come back with me.” Stephanie sighed, drew a hand through her dark hair. “But it doesn’t seem as if I can stop him.” She looked away, her voice drifting. “I’m so sorry.”
Was she saying this was Cash’s idea? That she hadn’t cried on his shoulder, played the victim who was all alone in this great big cruel world and needed his help? Of course she’d done exactly that, no doubt about it.
“He wanted you to come with him, didn’t he?”
Why was she asking when she must already know the answer? “He did, but this is something Cash has to work out.”
The woman bit her bottom lip, blinked hard as though tears were going to spill any second. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he’ll be with me long.”
“I know that. He said he’d be back in ten days.” Tess zeroed in on the tear slipping down Stephanie’s cheek, wondered how the woman could make them appear on command. “Maybe sooner.”
“Oh. I wasn’t aware he’d put a definite timeframe on the trip.” Another tear, a sniff, and the tiniest pinch of lips that said “not happy.”
Tess smiled, not a fake or forced one, but a real what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it smile. “Yes, he said ten days, tops.” When the woman’s nostrils flared, she couldn’t resist adding a little extra push. “But I expect him a lot sooner.”
Tess’s excitement over having bested Stephanie Richmond at her own game faded later that night as the hours dwindled and Cash didn’t come home. He’d told her he was heading to O’Reilly’s for beers with the guys. He didn’t give her names, but he had to mean Nate and Ben. When was the last time he’d done that? Two months? Four? Whatever the answer, it wasn’t often and there was usually a reason, as in one of the guys had a problem. She knew this because Cash always told her, just like he shared everything with her—or like he used to share everything with her. Who had the problem this time? The only one whose life was upside down right now was Cash. Had his buddies called a meeting at O’Reilly’s to help him out? If so, did he have any idea? Probably not or he wouldn’t show.
What a mess. Tess tossed the magazine on Cash’s side of the bed and closed her eyes. She wished it were spring, with the tulips and daffodils bursting with color, the hyacinths and lilacs swirling their scent through the air. Spring was a sign of hope, a time to dream and believe. Life had been simpler then and while she’d mourned her inability to conceive and ignored her husband’s quiet requests to begin the adoption proceedings, she’d always known that eventually they would figure it out. Together. Always together. But she’d never counted on a woman like Stephanie Richmond invading their lives with tales that might or might not be true.
Cash loved Tess; he would never betray her, but men didn’t always recognize the games women played or the subterfuge they relied upon to get what they wanted. Was Stephanie such a woman? Would she do anything to get the results she desired, including faking an illness and her son’s DNA?
The more Tess thought about the possibility of Stephanie fabricating her stories and the repercussions that would follow, the queasier she became. Deep breathing and attempts at calming mantras did nothing to settle her stomach. When the store-bought chicken soup she’d eaten for dinner inched up her throat, she jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom where she threw up. After she’d finished emptying her stomach, she made her way back to bed, pulled the covers close, and drifted into a restless sleep.
It was the dip of the mattress on Cash’s side of the bed that woke her. She blinked her eyes open to darkness, remained very still, and waited—for words, a touch, an explanation of why he was so late. His breathing filled
the quiet of the room as he settled into bed, let out a sigh that said more than a book could. Resignation? Disappointment? Sadness? All of those?
“Tess?” he called into the darkness. “Are you awake?”
“Mmhhhm.” She held herself very still, waited for him to say more.
The bed shifted and squeaked as he moved, probably to face her. “You okay?”
What to say to that? Certainly not the truth. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay since the day Stephanie showed up with the boy she claims is your son. “I’m fine.”
“Sorry I’m so late. I thought I’d be home earlier, but…”
Daniel Casherdon at a loss for words? Now that was a first. “So, you had a good time?”
Silence, and then, “Not exactly.” More hesitation. “Harry Blacksworth showed up and we started doing shots.” He blew out a breath and the smell of whiskey smacked her in the face. “That guy sure can drink. We’re no match for him, but Nate and Ben already knew that, so they didn’t try to keep up with the guy. Seems I was the only fool who had to find out the hard way.”
“Guess so.” She wanted to tell him everybody who knew Harry Blacksworth knew he had a master’s degree in drinking and he would have known it, too, if he’d paid attention to the details, because the details were the things that mattered. Like the details about Stephanie that he refused to acknowledge. What had she been doing for ten years? Tess said nothing because what was the point? Daniel Casherdon had never done things the easy way and it had usually cost him.
“At least I had enough sense to have Ben drive me home.”
At least there was that.
“I miss you.”
She bit her lip, forced out a truth drenched in misery. “I miss you, too.”
He touched her shoulder, hesitated. “Lay with me.”
There was need and sadness in his voice and a mountain of questions in those three words. How would they begin to get past that mountain? Those were worries for tomorrow because tonight she needed this closeness—a communion of warmth and breath that was not sexual. Cash slung an arm about her waist, eased her against him as she rested her head on his chest, her hand on his belly. Soon their breathing evened out, slowed, synced. And for the first time in too many days, Tess slept.
11
“I’m sorry Tess couldn’t join us.” Stephanie’s dark eyes brightened, reminded him of a shot of whiskey. “I could have stayed back at the bed-and-breakfast or driven my own car here.” She forked a piece of French toast, one of the specialties at Lina’s Café, and threw him a smile. “I’m not totally helpless, you know.”
But you’re the one who’s dying. Guilt crept over him, squeezed his chest. He hated to admit it but he’d almost asked Stephanie to drive herself so Tess could come, sit in the cab of the truck next to him, thigh to thigh, instead of Stephanie. But what kind of human being would make a request like that? A selfish one, and worse, a heartless bastard. Still, he missed his wife and holding her last night had been the closest he’d felt to her since…
“Dad, so Mom said you’re coming back to Jensen with us to help pack.” Mason chewed on a strip of bacon, smiled. “She said you’re going to rent a moving truck and we’ll take what we need, but we can buy new when we get here.” He nodded, his dark eyes filled with excitement and hope. “Yeah, this is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to get back here.” He darted a glance at his mother. “We need to find a house, maybe somewhere near Cash. Maybe we can get a place like the guy with the bowling alley in his basement.”
“Mason, what on earth are you talking about? A bowling alley in a basement?” Stephanie shook her head, her hair shimmering under the bright lights of Lina’s.
She was lucky the chemo hadn’t done a number on her and stolen her hair, turned her complexion sallow, her eyes dull. For somebody who’d undergone chemo and was breathing her last few months of air, Stephanie looked good. Actually, she looked great. Tess thought she looked too good for someone who was terminal. Would she feel better if the woman were bald and sunken, bent over and in a wheelchair? Why did his wife have to be so critical of her? He knew the answer, knew it without having to think about it.
Because Stephanie had given him the one thing Tess hadn’t and probably couldn’t—a child. And that was the game changer whether his wife wanted to admit it or not. She couldn’t accept the fact that he had a child and it wasn’t with her. Did she think he liked it? Think he wouldn’t give just about anything for it to be different? For Mason to be their son? But he wasn’t and the sooner they dealt with that, the better for everyone—especially Cash and Tess.
“Cash?” Stephanie’s husky voice smothered him as she leaned toward him, her breath tickling his ear. “You’re off in another world, aren’t you? Is it Tess? Is she having a hard time with all of this?”
Cash ran a hand through his hair, cleared his throat. He wasn’t about to let the woman who’d created the chaos between him and Tess hear about it. Something told him Tess would not appreciate that and he’d done enough to piss her off already. “We’re fine. I was just thinking about the trip.” That was part true though he hadn’t been thinking about it at that exact second. Stephanie talked about the trip as if they were one big family and she and Mason were moving to Magdalena and life was going to be grand. Except she wasn’t moving. She wasn’t going anywhere because she was going to die. Soon.
When in the hell was she going to tell Mason?
He’d tried to talk to her about it, tell her the sooner she let the boy know, the better for him—better for all of them. But he might as well have been talking to Henry because Stephanie didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to concentrate on happiness and the few minutes of making memories. Cash scooped up a forkful of scrambled egg, chewed. What a mess!
“So, what do you think, Mom? Can we get a house with a bowling alley in the basement?” Mason eyed his mother, darted a glance at Cash. “Please?”
Cash shook his head and said, “You better be making a lot more money than what you’ve earned cutting grass if you want a house like that.”
Mason grinned, leaned in and whispered, “Does this Harry guy really have a sauna in his house?”
Harry Blacksworth had a friggin’ mansion with three golf greens and a built-in pool, but the guy acted like he could care less. “Yup. And a theater room, and a pool table, but you know what?” Emotion saturated his next words. “Nothing’s more important to him than his wife and children.”
“ALL’S I see in this garden is vegetables to make marinara or minestrone.” Tula Rae crouched next to a tomato plant, pinched off a small leaf. “Got to get rid of these suckers or they’ll steal all the growth from the fruit.” Tsk-tsk, a shake of her head. “And here I thought you kept a pristine garden. Goes to show, you just never know.” Pinch, pinch, pinch, she worked her way around the tomato plant in question.
Pop didn’t like anybody touching his plants except for Lily and then only with his instructions. This woman didn’t ask for permission or instructions as she barreled through his property and the garden the whole town knew was off limits. He opened the makeshift gate, stepped into the garden, and made his way toward Tula Rae. He wanted to see those suckers in her hand before he admitted his negligence in tending his prized possessions. “You sure you’re pinching suckers and not some other part of the plant?” The look she gave him said he might not know the parts of a tomato plant, but she sure did.
“Tula Rae knows her plants.” She moved toward the next tomato plant, inspected it. “Never found a plant I couldn’t grow and no bragging intended, but I could give you a few pointers on a healthy garden.” She eyeballed him, worked up a smile. “If you’re so inclined.”
So inclined? “I been gardening fifty years or more, and nobody’s ever complained about what’s come out of my garden.” The woman was the biggest pain in the behind he’d ever had the misfortune to meet and if he didn’t need help getting to the bottom of this Stephanie Richmond mess, he’d tell Tula Rae where she
could go and it wouldn’t be in an upward direction. No siree. The woman’s cackle broke into his thoughts on where he’d like to send her.
“You always were an easy one. A few words and a body can get those feathers of yours all ruffled up until you can’t tell a tease from a serious.” She opened her hand, revealed bits of tomato leaves in her palm. “Just wanted to see if anything’s changed.” Those beady eyes met his, narrowed. “You got to let go of thinking you can’t make no mistakes, have to get it right all the time.” She shook her head, tsk-tsked. “Everybody walking this earth makes mistakes and gets it wrong.” Two jabs at her bony chest and a fierce, “Even Tula Rae.”
Pop eyed the tomato plant she’d accused him of neglecting. Its leaves were green, its spine straight, its fruit small but unblemished. Perfect. Maybe the woman had a point, but maybe she needed a little instruction on what was off limits in the teasing area, like his vegetable garden. He cleared his throat, touched a tomato leaf. “I’m very particular about my garden. Lucy and I used to spend hours planning it all out, potting the seedlings inside, transferring them when the ground was tilled and ready.” He cleared his throat again, pushed the words out behind the emotion clogging them. “It’s one way I still honor her. Sacred time.”
She didn’t toss a response at him like he thought she would, covered in “Tula Rae-isms.” Instead, she laid a hand on his arm and said in a quiet voice, “I meant no disrespect, Angelo. Truly, I did not. But I been watching you and listening, too, and you can’t have answers for every single soul walking this universe. You can try to send them down the right road, but there’ll be a time or three when your compass is off and you’ll both get lost.” She lifted a bony shoulder, patted his arm. “It’s part of being what you and I don’t like to admit we are.” Those thin lips pulled into a big grin, created a river of wrinkles on either side of her mouth. “Human. We don’t much like to admit we’re mere mortals, but that’s the sad truth.”