by Susan Wiggs
Parking the Mini behind the yellow school bus, Sarah surveyed the students, who had fanned out across the hills and promontories in search of the ideal spot to sketch. Every vantage point revealed a different vista. This was one of the most dramatic spots to watch the migration of the gray whales, who passed the point on their journey between Alaska and Mexico, and Sarah knew the beacon was one of Aurora’s favorite subjects to draw.
In contrast to the placid bay, the extreme western edge of the region was a place of drama and danger. The sea hurled itself at rockbound cliffs, which soared like the buttresses of a Gothic cathedral over the vast, empty beaches strung with sea palms that had washed up on shore. The dull boom of the waves reverberated in Sarah’s stomach, which churned with nervousness.
The Vegas incident had clarified something for Sarah. It was time—past time—for her to define her relationship with Aurora. It wasn’t that Sarah needed the girl’s permission to love Will. It was that she wanted the girl to understand that Sarah’s love took nothing away from Aurora’s bond with her father.
It was a chilly day and the three hundred concrete steps leading down to the lighthouse seemed like a descent to nowhere. The lower portion of the steps disappeared into thick fog. Sounds were muted—the muffled explosion of waves on the rocks far below, the regular bleat of the foghorn. There were few tourists around, and the art students were stationed at various points around the area, sketching egrets and rock formations and wind-sculpted cypress trees. She found Aurora perched on the upper level of the old lighthouse, a sketchbook across her knees and a box of oil pastels at her side. She didn’t seem surprised to see Sarah.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.” Aurora glanced up, but quickly went back to sketching.
“Got a minute?”
Her drawing hand fell still. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I owe you an apology, like I owe everybody else. I shouldn’t have taken off, and I’m sorry.”
It had the quality of a rehearsed speech. Sarah studied her, the glossy blue-black hair falling across a creamy olive-toned cheek, the girl’s beautiful mouth set in an unhappy line. “I didn’t come here looking for an apology from you,” she explained. “In fact, I don’t blame you for going looking for your mother.”
Aurora determinedly kept drawing. A seagull swooped near, hovered with the wind filling its wings and then glided off.
“I can totally understand that,” Sarah said. “Believe me, if I could figure out a way to see my mother, I’d do anything to make that happen. But I have to know. Did you leave because of me?”
“It’s not about you. It never was.” She scowled down at the page. “Anyway, I don’t need a lecture from you, so before you start yelling or blaming or—”
“I’m not going to yell at you or blame you. I’m just telling you to stop torturing your dad.”
“I’m not torturing him.”
“Forcing him to choose between you and me—you think that’s not torture?”
“I’m not forcing him to do anything.”
“Acting like the perfect daughter when it’s just the two of you together, and turning into Sybil when I show up.”
“Who’s Sybil?”
“Character in a cool movie. We’ll watch it together sometime.”
“You’re not making sense.” Hugging her knees to her chest, she stared at a line of wind-sculpted evergreen trees, all leaning the same direction.
“You’re not listening. I’m trying to explain that you never have to worry that if your dad falls in love, you’ll lose him.”
“We were doing fine, the two of us, before you came along,” Aurora said.
The girl had Will’s fiercely protective instinct, Sarah realized. But she didn’t yet have his judgment. “Your father is always going to be there, looking out for you, Aurora. You don’t have to do things to get his attention or worry about being slighted. Just because he’s preoccupied or busy doesn’t mean he’s disregarding you. And just because he and I fell in love doesn’t mean the end of the world. Like it or not, you’re going to gain three more people in your life who love you.”
Aurora stayed silent, concentrating on her drawing as the wind howled down the rocky cliffs. Sarah could feel her slipping away. This was an advantage, actually. Because now Sarah realized she could speak her heart with nothing more to lose.
“I had this whole speech planned out,” Sarah said. “I was going to tell you that I hope, for your dad’s sake, that we can be friends and move forward from there. That I’m not going to try to be your mother because I respect the fact that you have a mother. I was going to discuss the whole stepfamily thing. But you know what? That’s crap. Maybe I wasn’t around for your birth and your first day of kindergarten, or your first school dance, but I’m here now. I want to take care of you and worry about you and fight with you and embarrass you at school functions and take you shopping. I want to love you all your life, every bit as much as I love Adam and Bradley. And if you can’t handle that—”
“Stop,” Aurora snapped, slapping the sketchbook shut. “Will you just shut the hell up for a second?” She pressed her hands to her face, looking very small and afraid. Then she tilted up her chin in pride and defiance.
“Honey, I wanted to clarify this before you decide—”
“I’ve already decided,” she broke in. “If you’ll listen for a minute, I’ll try to explain. Maybe you think I was an idiot for going to find my mother but at least I found out for myself that she’s not going to be a part of my life, not anytime soon. I didn’t understand her when I was younger, didn’t know why she was back and forth to the E.R., which is why my dad was so freaky about going there, even that day he took you. My mother has a problem with drugs, even though she says she doesn’t. She steals and lies. Maybe she’ll wake up and get better one day. I wish she would, but I can’t make her do that. Nobody can.”
Sarah touched her shoulder, and when she didn’t resist, brushed a wave of black hair back from her cheek, now damp with tears. “I’m sorry, Aurora.”
Aurora shuddered with broken sobs. “I’m just so mad at her. So pissed. It doesn’t matter if I act like the perfect daughter or if Dad is the perfect husband. None of that ever made her stop.”
Sarah offered her a Kleenex and she wiped her face, though the tears kept coming.
“My dad never did one single thing for his own happiness. Every choice he made was to help someone or protect someone. Now he finally wants something for him, to make him happy. He’s the best person I know, and he deserves the best.” Her eyes cleared and she swallowed hard. “I guess I’m saying, if you’re not too pissed at me, then maybe we could, like, try again?”
“Well, then,” Sarah said, the world seeming to expand with each beat of her heart, “I guess there’s just one last detail to take care of.”
“What’s that?” The girl’s eyes widened with apprehension, and Sarah realized how afraid Aurora was of change.
“I’m going to have to sell the Mini.”
Forty-Two
Gloria came into the office at the station and dropped a thick manila file on Will’s desk. She looked calm, but haggard. “Six months in juvey. Tell me it gets no harder than this.”
Will knew she had struggled with the reality that Ruby’s daughter had been setting the fires. “I wish I could.”
“But you can’t.” She sighed and leaned against the edge of the desk. “At least she didn’t hurt anyone.”
“How about you and Ruby?”
Gloria—his partner, his engineer, his rock—blinked back tears. “We’re this close to calling it quits.” She measured an inch with her fingers.
“That’s nuts. You guys are great together.”
She nodded, offered a wobbly smile. “That’s why we’re not calling it quits. The judge ordered Glynnis to attend counselin
g classes on alternate lifestyles. After that, we’ll hope for the best.”
“Smart girl.” He stood up and gave her a hug. “I’m proud of you.”
“It’s common sense. You live your life letting a kid call the shots, that’s no kind of life at all. Once the kid grows up and moves away, then you find out you forgot how to call the shots yourself.”
“How’d you get so smart about kids?” he asked, stepping back.
“Maybe I’m just smart. Maybe I’m smart enough to know that you’re one to talk, Will Bonner.” She slugged him on the shoulder. “You with your heart full of love.”
* * *
After Gloria left, Will shut the file cabinet drawer with a ring of finality. He felt no sense of justice. For him, the situation was not as simple as Gloria seemed to want it to be. It had taken a near disaster for Aurora to finally come forward with the truth. He could only hope she’d trust him more now. Time would tell, and he didn’t want to push right now. She was still reeling from the realization that her friend had put people at risk. And Aurora still hadn’t fully dealt with the visit to her mother. Maybe he’d been wrong to try to protect Aurora from who Marisol really was. His daughter would need to grieve for the woman who had walked away from her, and then, he prayed, she’d let go and move on.
And Sarah? His heart and his dreams were full of her, yet nothing was simple between them.
When you were a single parent, Will knew, your first loyalty was to your child, every time. Even when the child was wrong.
Or so he used to think. The Glynnis thing was a wake-up call. Sometimes blind loyalty to your kid could lead to disaster. Regardless, he was going to quit worrying about things that hadn’t happened, things that might never happen. He had kept his distance from Sarah because he used to worry that Aurora would see her as a mother figure, and if things didn’t work out, then his daughter would have her heart broken again.
Well, hell. A broken heart was a survivable event, and she was old enough to know that now. He prepared to head home, spend the next few days with Aurora and finally have the talk with her. He would remind her there was going to be more in his life than just work and raising her. Sarah and her boys were a part of his heart, and he wasn’t going to hold back anymore. After Marisol, he never thought he’d fall in love again, because it was too damn messy when it ended. He’d been wrong, and this time was different. This time, he wasn’t a kid. And Sarah wasn’t Marisol. That didn’t mean it was going to be easier, he knew that. But this time, he knew what it was going to take to make it last.
He went down to his truck, tossing his duffel bag in the back.
“Looks like you have a hot date with a load of laundry,” someone said.
He turned, a smile already lighting his face. It was as if his thoughts had conjured her. This had to be a sign. “Sarah.”
She stood in the station driveway, a light breeze blowing her hair. The rare autumn sunlight had taken its time burning away the mist, but at last, the air sparkled with dazzling clarity. “Hey, yourself.”
“I was just thinking about you,” he said, suddenly wishing he had the ring with him. The way she looked right this minute, the way he felt in his heart, he wanted to give it to her.
“Yeah?” She walked toward him, slipped her arms around his neck. “What were you thinking?”
He bent down and kissed her, long and intimately, tasting memories of every moment they’d spent together, promising more. She went sweetly limp against him, her body soft and welcoming as she said, “That’s pretty much what I was thinking, too.”
“Where are the boys?”
“I get a little time off for good behavior,” she told him. The smile faded. He could see the weight of something in her eyes.
Oh, no, he thought. Oh, shit.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked.
“What’s up?”
“I never explained to you what happened with my ex-husband.”
Will’s heart skipped a beat as he thought about the cozy scene at her house, with her ex and their sons—a family. “Look, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
Will tried to interpret the expression on her face. She’d lived with the guy for five years, nursed him through cancer, had not one but two of his babies. Was she going to decide that ultimately, that was too much of a commitment to walk away from?
“I’m glad he came. Seeing him again was...” Her eyes looked damp. “...confusing,” she concluded.
“Listen, if you’re going to say you’re still not over him, you’re telling the wrong guy, honey.” Will’s defenses locked into place. “I love you, but I won’t be your shoulder to cry on about your ex.”
She nodded sadly. “I’d never ask that of you, Will.”
Thank God for small favors. “Then why the confusion?” he asked.
“I kept thinking I had something to prove to Jack. That I needed to show him I could make it as a single mother, self-employed, raising twins on my own. He—Jack—said some things...about us—about you and me—even though it’s none of his business. He swears I’m on the rebound. I know it’s nuts to put any stock in anything he says, but he’s always had this weird way of undermining me, even now.”
“Only if you let him, Sarah. Are you going to do that?”
“No, but the reality is, he’s part of the boys’ life.”
“And he always will be, but so what?” He cleared his throat, wishing he was better with words, wishing for a way to explain his feelings so she would understand. The human heart was such a complex organ, fragile and sturdy all at once. “I know you got your heart broken, Sarah,” he said. “But I know the heart can heal, too. And I know what it feels like to love again. I love you so much, I can’t sleep at night. Sometimes I forget to breathe. And in a hundred years, that’s never going to change.”
She stared at him, looking...what? Horrified? “Will, do you mean that?” she whispered.
“I said it, didn’t I?” He didn’t intend to sound angry. “Listen, I’m done waiting. There’s never going to be a perfect time to ask you this. So I’m asking you now, Sarah. Will you marry me?”
She shut her eyes for a moment, looking for all the world like a high diver about to take the plunge.
Her hesitation made him nervous. “I’m not withdrawing the question, Sarah,” he persisted. “And I’ll wait as long as you need to get an answer. Where you’re concerned, I have all the patience in the world.”
Opening her eyes, she smiled up at him. “Will, I love you, and I don’t want to wait, either. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, too. Can we do that, Will? Can we blend our families together, figure out a way to make this work? Because, you know, that’s what I have to prove. Which, by the way, is a yes.”
Finally, he thought. Finally. He picked her up and held her against the length of his body. He shut his eyes, closing this moment into his heart forever. His purpose was so clear now. This woman didn’t need rescuing. He just needed to love her. He set her down, kissed her. “I just kissed my fiancée for the first time.”
“You’re the one who did the asking, but if you hadn’t, I would have done it myself.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So when do we tell Aurora the good news?” He even felt positive about Aurora now.
Sarah blushed. He would never get tired of the sight of her blushing. “I think she already knows,” she said softly.
“Knows what?” He had to hear her say it.
“About the fact that I love you so much I can’t see any way to live my life without you. And her. I had a big talk with her about it. She’s a mess, Will, and I adore her.”
He nearly lost it, then, undone by happiness. “Ah, babe. I wish I could say it’ll be easy going with her—”
�
�It doesn’t have to be easy, Will, but you’re underestimating her. Your daughter’s got a heart as big as yours. She takes after you in that way.”
No one had ever said that to him before. It was the one thing he wanted to be true, and finally, here was someone, telling him so. He wrapped his arms around Sarah and kissed her again, holding her so close he felt her feet leave the ground. “So how much time off do you have, for good behavior?” he asked, setting her down to nuzzle her neck.
“Not enough for that. I told Aurora to meet us here...right about now.”
“She’s watching the twins?”
“She took them down to Children’s Beach.” Sarah smiled at Will’s startled expression. She reached up and touched his cheek. “We’re going to be all right, all of us,” she said. “Maybe not perfect, but perfectly fine.” And then she gave him the kind of kiss he had been dreaming about since the first time he’d kissed her, the kind that felt so right his chest ached with emotion.
A moment later he heard voices—his daughter saying something in Spanish, and babyish laughter. He pulled Sarah close. A moment after that, there they were, gilded by the day’s last sunlight, the boys with Aurora pushing their stroller—the whole world, coming toward him.
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
It took a special effort to bring this book to publication. I gratefully acknowledge my fellow writers for their gifts of friendship, humor and patience in reading my early drafts: Anjali Banerjee, Kate Breslin, Carol Cassella, Lois Faye Dyer, P.J. Jough-Haan, Rose Marie Harris, Susan Plunkett, Sheila Rabe, Krysteen Seelen, Suzanne Selfors and Elsa Watson.
Heartfelt thanks to Greg Evans, creator of the comic strip Luann; to former fire captain Tom McCabe of the Kern County Fire Department—a real-life hero; and to Glenn Mounger, international man of mystery.