“But you left us behind with him. You left us with that bitter, angry, miserable bastard,” he said, his initial pity eaten away by anger that had been simmering inside him for so long. “Do you know how he treated us? How he belittled everything we did?”
She slammed her hand on the table and skewered him with her gaze. “You had a roof over your heads and food. You went to all the right schools—”
“And that’s why you left us? Didn’t it occur to you that we might have traded all that for a mother’s love?”
She broke again and buried her hands in her face, crying harder. Repeating the same thing over and over. “You just don’t understand. You can’t understand.”
He wanted to understand. Wanted to know why she had left, because he suspected there was more to it than her wanting them to have all the right things. He gently took hold of her hands and drew them down. “Help me to understand. Tell me why you left.”
Help me be whole again, he thought. He waited patiently as she wiped away tears and then poured them both coffees, obviously needing something to do in order to maintain her composure. She took hers black and cradled the mug in her hands while he prepped his coffee, slowly adding sugar and cream to give her a chance to collect herself.
Once he took his first sip, she started talking, the tone of her voice low, hesitation making her every word leak out of her mouth like molasses in winter. Bitter like molasses too, he thought.
“When I filed for divorce, he was furious. He couldn’t understand why I would want to leave him. Why I couldn’t live another day with him and why I wanted to take my boys with me. We fought and fought over it. Lawyers racked up lots of big bills,” she said with a harsh laugh before continuing.
“We even tried to reconcile at one point, but it didn’t work out. Months later, I realized I was pregnant again. We were still fighting over the divorce terms, but when Thomas was born, that all changed.”
Her hands shook as she raised the mug to her lips and took a sip of the coffee. “Your brother Thomas. We knew as soon as he was born there was something very wrong with him. The doctors said that if he lived, he would require extensive care. That became your father’s ace in the hole.”
“He used that to get the divorce settlement he wanted,” he said, putting the pieces of the puzzle together just like he’d hoped when he planned this trip.
“He wanted you and Owen to stay with him. He thought I’d be a bad influence. I was too much of a dreamer. Too creative. I wouldn’t be good for his sons, especially you. He could see even back then the two of us were a lot alike. Owen was always more like him. More responsible and mature. But you…”
She smiled, and her face lit up with joy, the blue of her eyes bright as the ocean in Sea Kiss. “You were always asking questions. Wanting to know why. Taking apart your toys and putting them back together. You were so special, and he saw that. He wanted to rein that in. Make you more like him and Owen.”
“So the deal was us for Thomas, is that right?” he asked, although he knew the answer even before she confirmed it with a nod.
“As long as I stayed away from you and Owen, your dad would provide alimony and pay for all Thomas’s needs, and there were so many needs. He had severe mental and physical issues that required multiple hospitalizations and full-time care. What your father provided helped me keep Thomas alive and as healthy as he could be.”
The lives of two sons for one, he thought. He wondered how anyone could make such a choice. How anyone could force someone to make such a choice. “Is he… Is Thomas here?”
With a barely there shake of her head, she said, “Two years ago, he started needing more care than I could provide at home. I wanted to keep him here, but the doctors said that he would be better off somewhere he could get the medical attention he needed.”
Jonathan digested that statement, and it went down his throat like acid. “Can I meet him? Would he know… Does he understand when, you know, you talk to him?”
She nodded with a little more force. “He knows when I’m there. When I talk to him. Sometimes he smiles. If you’re staying—”
He jerked his thumb in the direction of the front door. “I’m at the Hotel Coronado.”
With a determined dip of her head, she said, “I can make arrangements for us to see him tomorrow if that’s good with you.”
“That’s good with me.”
He nodded and rose, intending to return to the hotel when his mother said, “I was done for the day. Maybe you can stay and we can talk some more. I’ve read a lot about you in the papers. It made me so proud.”
She seemed sincere and almost…hopeful. As if you could wipe away twenty years of distance, of absence, of secrets, with talk. Maybe you could, but he wasn’t ready for it today. There was too much to process, even for someone like him, who could grasp the most complex of problems almost instantly. This was way more complicated than any of his equations or inventions. More delicate than the most fragile of his experiments.
“Thanks for the invitation, but I need a little time to sort things out,” he said. Just like Connie needed space and time. “I’ll call later to firm up tomorrow.”
“I understand, Jonathan. We’ll speak later,” she said as she followed him out of her studio and to the front door.
He waited there, unsure of what to do. A hug? A kiss? What did you do after almost twenty years of separation? But before he could act, she took the decision from him. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her head against his chest. With a sniffle, she said, “You smell like Sea Kiss. Like summers on the beach. I never forgot those summers together.”
Awkwardly, cautiously, he returned the embrace. Bent his head to hers and whispered, “I never forgot either.”
Chapter 25
When the call had come from Owen saying that he’d fucked up, Connie’s one and only thought had been to go to Maggie and make sure her friend was okay. It had been Owen’s one and only thought as well. Not that Maggie would do anything crazy, because she wasn’t normally one to do anything like that, although some might consider that marrying the son of your father’s worst enemy was crazy. But if they’d known the very businesslike way that Owen and Maggie had gone about getting married, they would have thought otherwise.
Connie, on the other hand, had worried about it being that way. She had thought there might be more to it than either of them was saying, and now she knew why: Owen had lied to both Maggie and his father about the reason for the marriage.
Now, as she held Maggie and let her cry it out, she dealt with the aftermath of that lie and with the fact that Connie believed Owen really loved Maggie despite his subterfuge. “It’ll be okay, Mags. Trust me. It’ll be okay,” Connie crooned and stroked Maggie’s back.
“I know,” Maggie said, but there was no conviction in her words.
Connie hoped that with a little time, the wounds would heal and her friend could forgive. Could get on with her life and with her marriage.
Half an hour later, after Maggie’s tears had been spent, Connie packed her friend into a cab and got her home. She poured her a glass of wine or two and, much later, tucked her into bed.
Connie stayed the night and woke up feeling slightly nauseated again, after the last few days in Sea Kiss when she’d been finally feeling well. She wrote it off as the stress of the day before with both Maggie’s upset and another run-in with Goodwyn. Luckily, her headhunter had lined up a few interviews for her later in the week. Plus, there was that offer of sorts from the Sea Kiss councilman that had lingered in her brain far longer than it should have.
First, she had to deal with Maggie and her request that Connie draw up divorce papers. She was reacting in anger, and as both Maggie’s friend and her attorney, Connie needed to convince her to think things through. To give herself some time before acting rashly.
By the time she showered and dressed, Maggie ha
d already gone to work. Not her friend’s normal practice, but then again, nothing was normal in Maggie’s world after yesterday. She understood. Ever since Jonathan had walked back into her life, nothing had been the same. Which made her wonder about Jonathan and whether he had known about Owen’s deception.
Even though it was just after eight in the morning, Jonathan was usually an early riser, so she called him. The phone rang a few times before Jonathan answered with a groggy, “Connie? Are you okay?”
“I am. I’m sorry. I thought you’d be up already,” she said and fought back pleasure that his first thought had been concern for her.
“I’m in California. I had something to take care of,” he replied, slightly more alert.
“Shit, I’m sorry. It’s barely—”
“Five something, but that’s cool. What’s up?” he said, apparently unaware of what had happened the night before.
“Have you talked to Owen?” she asked, hesitant to reveal too much and yet also wondering just how much Jonathan had known in the first place.
“No, I haven’t,” he said, and after a long pause, she heard a muffled curse before he continued. “Maggie found out, didn’t she?”
Upset skyrocketed with his words. “You knew?”
A tired sigh drifted across the line. “I did, but I tried to convince him a thousand times to tell her. He loves her, Connie. He always has, only he couldn’t think of any other way to be with her and keep our father from ruining his life.”
Amazingly, she believed him. Jonathan had never been a liar, and she had always understood that the Pierce boys had a complicated and mostly unhealthy relationship with their father. Her understanding, however, didn’t keep her from holding back.
“Your father is a fuck.”
He sighed again, a heavy sound filled with regret and sadness. “You don’t know the half of it, Reyes.”
An uncomfortable silence followed until she finally said, “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to keep Maggie from making the worst mistake of her life.”
“Marrying Owen?” he said.
“No, divorcing him,” she replied and hung up before Jonathan had a chance to respond.
* * *
Jonathan stared at the smartphone that still displayed the avatar of Connie’s smiling face. He placed the phone back on the nightstand, and at the motion, Dudley wiggled closer to him in bed and licked his hand. Still on East Coast time, his poor pooch probably needed to be walked. The walk would do both of them a world of good.
“Hey, boy,” he said, rubbing the dog’s head. His hair was softer after the grooming, and the trim made it seem even curlier. Dudley had almost pranced before him when he’d picked him up at the pet spa. This dog had the most winning personality. “I just need a minute.”
He rose, washed, and yanked on a T-shirt and sweats. He slipped his feet into a pair of flip-flops, since he planned on taking Dudley to a dog beach that one of the groomers had mentioned to him the day before when he’d picked up Dudley after visiting his mother.
My mother, he thought as he clipped the leash on Dudley, and the dog yipped happily and gave him a puppy grin. The simplicity of those canine emotions eased his troubled spirits somewhat. He had already been worrying about what to tell his older brother and when. Now Owen was dealing with the fallout from his deception with Maggie.
I can’t add another thing to his troubles, he thought as he led Dudley out of their beachside room and up to street level. The dog beach was several blocks away.
He walked without purpose, letting Dudley linger here and there as the pup searched for his perfect doggy spot. When Dudley finished, he cleaned up after him, tossed away the garbage, and then continued the walk, needing time to think about all that had happened in just the last few days. Dudley was content to humor him, trotting beside him on the walk, glancing up every now and then as if to make sure he was okay.
So many things to process. Connie. His mother. Owen’s troubles and his newfound brother Thomas. A brother who he would meet later that day for the first time, but he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he saw him. Saw Thomas.
Memories, both new and old, assaulted his brain. Good times. Bad times. Very bad times. They bound him to the past, but they also tied up his future and not for the better.
Connie was right that there was something wrong with him not being able to pick one of those beautiful houses to be his new home. Maybe it was because every time he pictured himself living in Sea Kiss, it was in his family’s home. A home that deserved more than him and Owen popping down every now and then. Even the Sinclair home had Mrs. Patrick there to give it life, as well as regular visits from Maggie and her friends.
In his mind’s eye, he pictured the home the way it had been when he had been a young boy. The glorious colors in the flowers that had spilled from their beds onto the walk. The bright paint on the house before it had been replaced with sorrowful darkness. It occurred to him that it had happened shortly after Maggie’s mother had died. Elizabeth Sinclair, the woman his father had really loved and for whom he’d gone into mourning.
They reached the dog beach, and he unclipped Dudley’s leash and raced with him to the water’s edge. The dog splashed through the water, his happy barks filling the early morning air. The sun was just coming up to the east over Coronado, bathing the homes and hotels with bright golden light. A very different sunrise than on the East Coast, but no less beautiful.
He let Dudley romp in the wash for a few minutes, then picked up a piece of driftwood and played fetch with the lively terrier, and little by little, the dog’s happy antics drew some of his darker thoughts away. They had him smiling and thinking about going home and playing on the beach in Sea Kiss with his dog. Walking there with Connie beside him.
She hadn’t said goodbye, he reminded himself. She was waiting for him to deal with his past. Waiting for herself to settle her own past and maybe her future. She had so many plans, his Connie. Sadly, none of those plans had ever included him. Or at least he didn’t think so. But he’d seen a change in her lately, he thought, much like he hoped she’d seen a change in him. A change that said that maybe they had a future together.
He tossed the driftwood one last time, and after Dudley returned it, Jonathan walked back up the sand toward the street. Dudley dawdled in the surf, but after a low whistle, the dog obediently chased after him, following him to the sidewalk. He clipped the leash on Dudley, and together, they hurried back to the hotel. Back in their room, he dried down Dudley and then showered. The simple routine gave him peace, especially as the pup bared his belly for a rub and then licked his face happily. The routine also gave him purpose.
It was with that sense of purpose that he dressed, hauled out his laptop, and checked his office messages. Nothing pressing. He checked his smartphone. No call from Owen. His brother had always been one to hold in his emotions. It had been Owen’s stalwart, steady presence that had been Jonathan’s rock when their mother had left. Now it was his turn to be that rock for his brother, but not through a phone call. He had to finish this with his mother and Thomas and then head home.
He was needed there. It felt good to be needed. He only wished that there was a better reason for him to go home.
Chapter 26
Jonathan sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself for the moment he’d envisioned since reading the investigator’s report.
“It’ll be fine,” his mother said and rubbed her hand back and forth across his shoulders in a soothing gesture. A rush of memories filled him as he recalled her calming him in much the same way when he’d been a young boy suffering his father’s disapproval.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and nodded. “I’m ready,” he said, although inside, he was anything but ready.
“Let me go in first. He knows me, and it’ll help keep him calm,” his mother said.
He nodded, and Genevieve s
tepped past him and opened the door to the room. The assorted beeps and chimes of medical equipment hit him before the antiseptic hospital smell.
As the door opened wider, he caught sight of the frail figure in the bed. He was motionless until his mother approached the bed. The twitch of a foot and a rough grunt came from his brother. Thomas’s eyes opened wider, and shock hit Jonathan at the blue of them, so like his own, but he had Owen’s dark hair. Their father’s dark hair.
He stepped closer, and Thomas’s head shifted slightly in his direction.
His mother had been speaking to his brother, almost crooning. Words he’d been unable to hear, but as he stepped closer, he finally heard, “This is your brother, Thomas. His name is Jonathan.”
Another grunt came with a jerky motion of his brother’s hand. “Yes, that’s him, Thomas,” his mother said, obviously understanding, although he didn’t know how.
He moved a bit closer, so that his chest brushed against Genevieve’s back, and placed his hands over his brother’s. Thomas’s hand was chilled. Smooth like a baby’s. “Hi, Thomas. I’m your brother Jonathan.”
The blue eyes brightened, and past the whoosh of the respirator that kept his brother breathing, he heard another strangled sound.
“He’s happy to see you,” his mother said.
“I’m happy to finally meet you, Thomas. I’m sorry it took so long to get here.”
A hint of a smile came to Thomas’s lips, and the monitors beeped more rapidly as if to confirm his joy.
Jonathan didn’t know what else to say or ask, so he started telling his brother about himself. About what he did and his company. About Connie and how he hoped she’d be in his life again soon.
His brother listened, his eyes drifting closed every now and then before popping open. His mother patiently stood there, listening as well. Taking in his words as if she were a thirsty man in the desert. Maybe because after so many years apart, his presence was like rain on parched soil.
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