“Oh, good. I made the dumb mistake of bringing only summer clothes because at home in July it’s very hot. I was in such a tizzy; I mostly packed those types of clothes.”
“From what I could gather, Miguel didn’t leave you a lot of time to organize.” A mother’s knowledge of her stubborn son resonated in her sarcasm.
“Sure, he did. After I complained that a few days wouldn’t be near enough he extended my time by a few more.” Sheri knew her tone would indicate her playful disgust.
Andrea’s boisterous laugh rang out downplaying her weakened condition. “That man! Don’t worry! I’ve done the same thing myself, only from the opposite direction. A few years ago, I arrived in sweltering LA with only a velvet gown to wear to an important business function, and no time to buy something appropriate.”
Enjoying the girl-talk, Sheri settled in. “Did you suffer the evening very badly?”
“Not at all. Once Miguel knew what I’d done, he called in a favor from a model he knew, and she came loaded with an armful of gowns for me to choose from. I must admit my son can be handy to have around in some situations.”
Sheri swallowed back the sarcastic retort that sprang to mind and instead smiled prettily at the proud mother. “I can see where you might think so.”
Not anyone’s fool, Andrea took Sheri’s hand in hers. “If only you could have met Miguel a few years ago. Women adored him for his fun-loving ways. Men worked hard for him out of respect for his knowledge, his bravery. I admit the family doted on him. As his mother, you might think I’m prejudiced…” At Sheri’s raised eyebrow, Andrea giggled and added, “So shoot me.” Her face switched from a smile to a frown as she deliberated over her next words. “But, over the past months, my son has been kidnapped and physically tortured, heart-broken and embarrassed by a woman he believed in and is trying to deal with the loss of his beloved brother. If at times he seems less than sensitive, please bear with him, Sheri. He loves your babies very much and will do his best as their Papá. I guess what I’m trying to say is… please, give him time.”
Feeling very small, Sheri nodded and patted the thin hands where the prominent veins caught one’s eye. Resentment fled while scads of emotions washed over her. Sympathy ranked among them but the thrill of anticipation took the number one spot. Her penchant of always looking at the bright side kicked in. Habits learned young were hard to overcome. Deciding to be a thoughtful wife, willing to give her husband the benefit of the doubt not only came naturally, but made sense in the circumstances.
“Now young lady, I’ve talked too much as usual, and I promised myself to learn as much as I can about you today. Please tell me about your parents and where you grew up?”
Dreading these kinds of questions from the time she’d arrived, Sheri decided to tell all and get it over with. “I grew up on Vancouver Island, in a small village called Qualicum Beach. It’s where I first met Mary-Anne. My mother left the family home when I was twelve. At first, my father and I believed she’d run away from us because, either she didn’t like being part of our family anymore, or she’d met someone else. I recently learned she’d left because she had a brain tumor and didn’t want her family to watch her die. After my father passed on two years ago, I went through some old letters and found an unopened one she’d written to me. I can only surmise that my father, angry at my mother’s desertion, had chosen not to pass it on.”
Telling the story in its condensed form didn’t come near to explaining the intense pain her father had suffered, his sense of failure, his anger, and how much of it he’d shared with her in his drunken rages. The many jobs he’d lost until in one of his less than honorable moments, he’d let himself be injured and from then they lived on medical assistance from the government.
That man had whined and snivelled to his very last breath, and because she took after her upbeat mother, the only way she could have survived living with him was to be up to his down and bright to his dark.
“You poor dear. It must have been horrible to realize that your resentment had been misplaced.”
Sympathy from Andrea, a woman who knew what suffering felt like personally, salved her tender sprit. Her cold hands enclosed the one of Sheri’s that unconsciously had been on its journey to where her teeth waited to gnaw away her budding anxiety.
“Not at all. I felt more betrayed after I’d read the letter. How could she have stolen those last opportunities from us? Didn’t she understand how much I hated her for leaving me, and how mad I became with my father for letting her go? Her disappearing caused him to drink and lose one job after another. He changed into a sorry excuse of a man, and I hated it. If she had let us deal with her problem as a family, I believe we would have accepted her death and been able to move on.”
Hostility stiffening her shoulders and a voice brusque and raw sounding, Sheri bit her lip to stop from spouting more vitriol. Silence vibrated with her suppressed rage. Never having talked to anyone but Mary-Anne, who’d always agreed with her views, wanting to support her friend, no one had ever tried to make her see things differently. Therefore, her bitterness was well cemented.
“Sheri, think as a mother now. You have two babies who you love.”
“More than life itself.”
“Yes, more than your own life. So, if you knew they’d have to go through months of torment to watch you die a painful, horrible death, and you knew of a way to save them from that nightmare, mightn’t you choose that path? Wouldn’t your love for them force you to think of what’s best for those so precious to you?”
“No! I don’t know. Maybe…oh, God. I’ve never thought of it like that. It was easier to be angry with her. I actually hated her because I thought she’d left us to be with someone else.” As painful memories sufaced, Sheri clutched her throat, swallowing the moisture gathering in her mouth. “Now that you mention it, I remember her as the strong parent, the one I had to get permission from if I wanted to do anything. Even my father looked to her to run things. He was easy going and he… he missed her so much.”
An arm sliding around her shoulders stopped her rambling and brought Sheri’s head onto the shoulder of an understanding mother. “Sheri, whatever choice your mother made, you can be absolutely certain, she did so thinking only of what she believed best for you and your father. She must have loved you terribly to have given up the last months of her life with her family.”
A weight the size of Africa disappeared from Sheri’s spirit and she took a deep cleansing breath. “I’ve been so angry.”
“I think wounded is the word you should use. We use anger to cover our pain. Nature uses it as a remedy, but unfortunately it can be destructive.”
Sheri needed to be alone to think, to wonder and to forgive. “Thank you, Andrea. I’d better go and check on the twins now and see if they’re up from their nap. We’ll be back to have lunch with you if you’d like.”
“I’d like that very much. And if you ever want to talk about your past again, my dear, I’ll be happy to listen.”
Sheri wandered out of the room, thoughts pinging in her head like popcorn in a microwave. All fixated on the woman who she’d held in contempt for the last seventeen of her twenty-nine years.
What must she have gone through? To leave her home and family at the worst time in her life. Could I do it, she wondered? Could I give up everyone I loved to protect them?
Chapter Thirty
Cousin Paula turned out to be a bubbly woman of thirty or so, with big green eyes, auburn hair and a smile that flirted with every male in the vicinity. Her personality made boring fun. Except for the flirting, she reminded Sheri of Mary-Anne, and so she took to her at once.
The first afternoon they visited the Plaza de Armas, a beautiful square in the heart of the city near many of the prominent older buildings with history pulsating and echoing from every inch of limestone and granite. Then they took a gondola trip up the San Cristóbal Hill to see the famous statue of the Virgin Mary. Small kiosks full of touristy treats decorated t
he area with everything from stuffed llamas and homemade jewellery.
Never having had to learn a second language left her with no personal knowledge of how really difficult it could be. Mind you, once she let go of her shyness Sheri began to make progress. Therefore each day spent together, they started with Spanish lessons, and then as they played tourist.
Once Paula introduced Sheri to her own women’s apparel shops, they spent happy hours choosing just the right look for a girl who had never fussed with her image or chosen clothes for style over cost. At first Sheri balked at spending so much money on her wardrobe, but both Andrea and Paula pooh-hooed her reserve. It wasn’t until sharp, old keen-eyed Maria kicked in with her two cents, “You want that Miguel is shamed by his wife?” that blew her restraint to smithereens, and she began to have fun.
Sheri gave herself over to Paula’s expertise, and her preferred items of clothing, jeans and t-shirts, were allowed—but not off the rack. Instead they were designer items and so delightful that she found herself blessing her small frame.
Added to those absolute necessities were dresses and nightwear and shoes and, and… the list went on until only with a promise that she’d visit Paula’s hairdresser and spa did Sheri get a break from the buying frenzy.
Once seated in the chair with both Paula and the eager woman chatting away in such machine gun Spanish did she finally demonstrate her fierce stubbornness. They would not cut her hair. Every night her husband tenderly played with the long strands and buried his hands in the mass of curls as his body took hers to heaven. No way would she cut off that which gave him such gratification and her so much joy.
* * *
Today, Paula had insisted they must visit Pomaire, a small village to the west that sold wonderful examples of pottery. After wandering for a few fascinating hours and watching the workman as they fashioned different kinds of terracotta pots and dishes, Sheri sat at table in the local restaurant waiting for Paula to finish ordering their meals. As usual, whenever she had time to daydream, her thoughts returned to the night before.
Ever since her serious talk with Andrea, Sheri had felt lighter, happier and more forgiving towards Miguel, who’d put himself out each evening to be amusing during dinner and a wonderful lover after. Tirelessly, he’d take her from one peak of ecstasy to another while she slowly overcame her restraint, her shyness to touch and fondle his body in return.
Last night, after more wine than usual, she’d ignored their routine and chose to ride him instead of the other way around. His Spanish endearments, that made sense to her now, encouraged her, increased her gratification and lifted her to new heights.
All the while seduction poured from lips that played havoc with every sensitive spot on her aching body, his warm hands fondled her breasts, stomach and buttocks. Ultimately, he cradled her face, sweeping her curls back over her shoulders in order for him to have full access. So his eyes could watch the reactions in hers. And he might drive her to even new heights once she became aware of the persuasive seduction shining in his.
Breaking free from her inhibitions, she’d goaded him with her mouth and her unleashed needs. Needs that claimed his body and forced his heart to be engaged—the outcome of total fulfillment rocked them both.
Noises nearby forced her to return to the moment, to open her eyes, wipe the moisture from her brow, and close her legs tightly. Enough! Think about something else!
Think of the recent nights Miguel brought Rafael and Carrie-Anne into their bed so they could have playtime with the babies before they fell asleep. Sheri had watched him encourage their smiles and babbles while he further delighted the rug-bunnies by playing horsey and tickling them into fits of giggles. The closeness and warmth from these evenings had lulled her into a false comfort.
Until this morning when he’d suggested he should legally adopt his brother’s children. The fact that they bore his last name wasn’t enough. He wanted rights to his own children and as he’d so charmingly told her, the right for them to call him Papá. Now what the hell could she do? If she told him the truth, he’d hate her for lying all this time. But if she didn’t, she’d hate herself. What could be worse?
“Sheri? You’re wearing the strangest expression. Are you in pain?” Paula patted her new friend’s clenched hands and sat across, concern evident in her soft smile.
“No—yes, well sort of.” Sheri looked up into kind eyes and an anxious smile. “Actually, I’m so mixed up.”
“I did pick up on that, mi Amiga. Did you want to talk about it? Is Miguel being a horse’s ass? I bet it’s Maria. That woman scares the hell out of me.”
“Oh, Paula, she loves the family and is the most trustworthy person in the world. I never worry about leaving the twins in her care, they adore her.”
“But?”
“She scares me stupid, too. Truly, it isn’t her that has me so worried. In fact, she’s been easier lately. She’s taken on so much of the twin’s care and softens whenever they’re near her. It’s a miracle how one lady can be so sweet and still so sour.”
“Like jalapeno jelly.”
Laughing, Sheri nodded her agreement. “She orders Andrea about like a motherly drill-sergeant, spoils the babies with cuddles and rides in their stroller and is besotted with Miguel.”
“What about you?”
“Me, she just watches. Unless Miguel is nearby, then she tries to be kind, but I’m pretty sure it’s for his sake.”
“Other than Juan, her husband, Andrea and Miguel are her whole life,” said Paula. “Anything that might hurt them will have to pass through her first. Look, I know the circumstances of your marriage to Miguel. I bet it terrifies them that you have so much power…”
“Power? What are you talking about? I have no power, and I have no money. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”
“Right!” Paula’s hands waved as they always did when she talked, and when she got excited, they gestured madly as if a mass of hornets were attacking. “Exactly. If you would have had the money to pay for Rafael’s operation, you’d never have agreed to marry Miguel and bring the babies to Chile, would you?”
Sheri took the moment while the waiter delivered their meals to think carefully before replying. Paula’s raised eyebrow soon made her realize that she was waiting for her answer.
“No. I wouldn’t have come. Not then, anyway. But if Miguel would have explained about Andrea’s illness, and how important her seeing the babies would be to her recovery, I would have come, at least for a while.”
“What about Miguel’s needs for the babies?”
Sheri thought for a moment and then honesty prevailed. “Oh, I realized he felt a responsibility for the twins. I respected him for having that commitment. But frankly, I wouldn’t have taken that into consideration.”
“What about the fact that the torture he suffered in Colombia ruined his chances of ever being able to have a family of his own? Wouldn’t that have softened your heart?”
What? Sheri’s trembling hand seized her stomach while she fought for control. Bile rose in her throat like waves of acid heartache. She swallowed, choked and then swallowed again. An eerie sensation ran up her neck, then over the back of her head leaving a squad of skin cells clamouring and screaming, tightening like a vice.
Paula whispered with force. “Sheri, you’re frightening me. Are you okay? You’ve turned so pale. You didn’t know, did you? I’m so sorry. I’d have thought either Miguel or Andrea would have told you.” When Sheri closed her eyes and shook her head in a negative way, Paula continued. “Me and my big mouth. I’m going to shut-up now.”
“No.” Sheri gathered her backbone from the puddle it had formed and tried to reshape it by memory. She was strong and also a big fat idiot.
Evoked by guilt, the image of Miguel playing with the twins and loving them so tenderly wouldn’t be shattered by excuses for her selfish behavior. The fact that she hadn’t known of his plight didn’t enter into her mind at that point either.
My poor beloved. Those words entered, took root and wouldn’t leave. Knowledge of his pain seeped in, and the evident love hiding in her heart reacted by flying right out of her chest, heading straight for his. Her husband. She truly loved him. Oh, Lordy! She loved him more than… too much.
Paula, clearing her throat, pulled her back to their conversation. “Don’t worry. I’m so glad you told me. It answers questions I’ve had about some of Andrea’s comments. I guess she thought Miguel had already shared.”
“But he hasn’t.”
“No. He’s said nothing.”
“Since you already have the twins, he most likely thinks you’ll be satisfied with your family.”
“But what about him?”
“He loved Felipe so much. I’m sure that bringing up his children will go a long way to help him deal with his own situation. He’ll be their papá, a wonderful role model, and love them as if they were his own.”
As an author, Sheri had always worked with words, knew their influence, their power, but until she heard that phrase spoken ‘love them as his own’, she’d never experienced that power against herself. They slammed her directly against the walls of her strong convictions, convictions between right and wrong. She began to hate herself and her past choices.
To reveal her secret, tell her husband about her lies would be one of the hardest things she’d ever have to do and begging for his forgiveness, even harder.
Chapter Thirty-One
Tonight he’d be marrying his wife for the second time and Miguel couldn’t stop grinning like some infatuated fool. After their recent nights of lovemaking, her taking the initiative to be the dominant lover, he’d inflated a vision of ‘forever after’ in his mind. The beautiful picture wouldn’t go away. Thus, the vows presented for them to say this evening would be a lot more meaningful than those he’d previously repeated.
The house had been a hive of activity ever since Paula had spirited Sheri to the small village of Pomaire for the day. Trucks full of flowers and wedding paraphernalia had been arriving non-stop, while the wedding planners with blackberries and IPads clutched to their chests ran from room to room overseeing the details.
The Ultimate Romance Box (6 Bestselling Romance Novels) Page 32