by Mary Campisi
Cash turned, glared at him. “I had my reasons. You know I did.”
“That is such bullshit.”
“Are you done?”
“Not quite.” Nate stood, moved closer to the bed, and stared at Cash. The man was weak and beaten and this next piece of information could plow him under, but Ramona had insisted Nate should be the one to tell him. “She’s coming back, Cash. I expect she’ll be here in the next day or two.”
There was no need to say Tess Carrick’s name. Nate expected the woman still lived and breathed in Cash’s soul, a constant torment of a love gone wrong.
Chapter 5
Tess was less than an hour from Magdalena, but the dread had started the instant Ramona Casherdon pulled the “nightmare” letter from her purse. Olivia Carrick’s children did not get pregnant unless they were married. Period. That was the first of her mother’s beliefs that would get blown apart if she read the letter. The other belief that would be disproved with greater harm and devastation was that once pregnant, the contemplation of an abortion was not an option. Repeat. Not. An. Option.
But Tess had gotten pregnant and she had considered an abortion, not without Riki’s prodding and support, but still, the thought had trickled through Tess’s brain and sprouted possibilities. In the end, she hadn’t been able to do it, not even with Riki’s uncharacteristic support and the fact that Cash had just put a bullet in her little brother. She’d come close, walking into the clinic, clutching Riki’s hand, but before the doctor entered the room, Tess grabbed her purse and fled.
As she lay in bed that night, hands resting over her still-flat belly, she knew she would have to tell Cash, knew, too, she’d have to bury all emotion as she talked about visitation rights, schedules, and birthing classes. They had talked about raising children in Magdalena—together. Fate intervened and took her choice away, but it took so much more…
And now she must drive into the town as though she’d been on a short vacation and not on the run from herself for eight years. She would do this for her mother; Olivia Carrick deserved it. Tess tried not to think about facing Cash, what he might say, what he might not say. What did any of it matter? Once he’d gained strength and purpose, Ramona would force her to tell him about the child they’d lost. Perhaps Tess would be lucky and the numbness that had claimed her soul for years would protect her from the pain of loving Cash Casherdon again.
Or perhaps the truth would seep out from layers of denial; she’d never stopped loving him.
She could not risk her mother learning the truth, and she didn’t doubt Ramona Casherdon would expose Tess’s dark secret if necessary. The woman had traveled hundreds of miles for a face-to-face meeting, which meant she was on a mission to save her nephew, no matter the collateral damage. At least she’d forewarned Tess about her mother’s health.
Heaven knew, Olivia Carrick was not about to offer up information as to the nature, or even the existence, of a possible problem. How sad that her mother couldn’t confide in her. Olivia always said she was of strong German stock, the kind that showed little fear and even less emotion. Such self-sufficiency must have made it difficult for Thomas Carrick to measure up, and maybe that had been the problem. Maybe after a while, he’d stopped trying.
Forty-three minutes later, Tess headed into Magdalena and down Main Street. Lina’s Café, Barbara’s Boutique and Bakery, Victor’s Pharmacy. The years hadn’t altered much. Maybe a coat of fresh paint or a fancier sign. How could so little have changed and yet so much be different? A lifetime ago, she’d been making wedding favors, laughing with Bree and Gina, and talking about her future. In a flash of blood and horror, it was over, all of it gone; JJ, Cash, nursing, her future. Everything.
Tess pulled into the driveway of the old two-story and turned off the engine. In some ways, the house looked exactly as it had every spring. Bursts of color surrounded the quiet place in a gathering of red, orange, yellow, and pink. Clusters of tulips lined the pathway to the front door or scattered in beds alongside purple balls her mother called allium. White and fuchsia azaleas blossomed against a backdrop of shiny leaves, and her father’s favorite, giant daffodils guarded the mailbox like sentries. The bombardment of color and shape, and later, fragrance, began in late March and ended in November when the last rose bloom froze on its thorny branch.
Despite the camouflage of color, the house looked like a weary soldier on duty. There were lifts in the roof, a few shingles curled from wear and the elements. Thomas Carrick had never been much of a handyman and words like routine maintenance were foreign to him. Once again, the task fell to Olivia. The tan siding had been newly power-washed and the windows sparkled, no doubt Uncle Will’s handiwork. Her mother said he’d been coming around to help out with this and that, adding more insulation in the attic, repairing a few door hinges, installing a programmable thermostat. Olivia said that losing Aunt Julia had been hard on him, even though they’d all known the multiple sclerosis would take her sooner rather than later, but still, being prepared was never really being prepared.
Tess dragged the suitcase from the trunk and made her way up the sidewalk. When she reached the front door, she hesitated. Should she knock? Eight years was a long time. Things changed. Maybe her mother locked the door these days, though probably not. Still, Olivia might prefer that her daughter knocked. After all, Tess had chosen to leave—no, practically run away—at a time when, despite her mother’s silence and assurances that all was well, Tess had known all was not well, and she’d left anyway.
She should have stayed and battled through the despair and pain with her mother. Wasn’t that what families did? Got through it together? She should not have called Cash a murderer in front of half the town and refused to see him. But most of all, she should not have accepted Riki’s offer to get away and then to get rid of the baby. She’d kept these truths buried so deep, they hadn’t been able to surface for years and yet, less than ten minutes back and they’d bubbled to the top, threatening to spill over and into her. Threatening to suffocate her.
“Tess!” Olivia Carrick stood on the other side of the door, arms open wide, a smile on her lips. “How wonderful to see you!”
Tess dropped the suitcase and hugged her mother. She’d always craved the rare moments when Olivia Carrick showed her nurturing side and this was one of them. All too soon, Olivia pulled away and said in her usual no-nonsense voice, “Well, let’s not make a spectacle of ourselves on the front stoop unless you want your picture in tomorrow’s paper.”
And that was that. It had taken years for Tess to understand her mother’s reluctance or inability to show affection—the touchy-feely kind. Fear was the cause. The woman could fight city council and tell The Bleeding Hearts Society when they were butting in where they had no business, but she was petrified to show her emotions. Tess finally understood that fear, had learned the reality of it since leaving. Guarding emotions was safe. It didn’t hurt and closed down the pain. Sadly, it also reduced the joy.
“Mom, you’ve lost weight.” The extra middle padding Olivia had carried since JJ’s birth was noticeably gone. Was it a sign of the illness, maybe cancer, eating through her body?
“A lot can happen in four months,” her mother said, sliding just the tiniest hint of accusation into her words. “And it’s amazing what happens when you cut out the midnight candy bars.”
She said it with the nonchalance that might make Tess believe her, had she not heard differently from Ramona Casherdon. “You don’t need to lose weight. I thought you were fine.” Tell me about it. Please.
Olivia responded in typical fashion. “What woman is ever happy with her weight? Even you, toothpick that you are, could probably point out an ounce or two you’d like to shave.”
“True.” She’d try another angle. “So, just cutting out a candy bar at night did that?” Tess gestured to her mother’s flattened middle.
Her mother smiled. “A king-sized candy bar. It was the heartburn that stopped me, though, not the weight. When you c
an’t sleep because of it, you start looking at what you’re putting in your mouth and when. Candy bars at midnight with my favorite book sounds wonderful, but it was an idiotic combination, and oh, the discomfort.” She shrugged. “Of course, it took Doc Gentry to lay it all out for me so I could see the logic of it. Sometimes it takes another pair of eyes to state what’s staring right at us. Don’t you think so?”
“Sure. Yes.” What was she talking about? They made their way to the living room, which looked exactly as it always had with the exception of the piano that her mother had moved from the sitting room and placed alongside the wall where Thomas Carrick’s Barcalounger used to be. Memories bombarded Tess: her father’s extra-long body stretched out on the chair, roast chicken and dumplings on Sunday afternoon, and Olivia Carrick’s signature apple crumble. JJ’s chin hairs sprouting like a chia pet. His skinny arms, his heavy metal T-shirts. His laughter. Cash standing in the doorway, talking to her father, watching every step she took and then later telling her what he—
“I’ve always loved this piano.” Olivia’s voice dipped, cut off Tess’s wandering thoughts, and not a second too soon.
“Do you still play?” She fingered the keys. Riki had been the only one to inherit her mother’s talent for the piano. Maybe Tess should take up the piano again. A gift to her mother.
“Every night.”
“Maybe I’ll give it another try. What do you think?”
“What I think is you’re trying to please me and have no interest in the piano.” She raised a brow and said, “That’s the problem with a lot of us. We’re so busy trying to please those we care about, that we lose track of what’s important to us.” She sounded like she might be talking about herself, but how could that be when she’d loved teaching? “And if you love selling lipstick around the world—” she swept a hand in the air “—then sell away.”
I won’t be selling lipstick anymore, at least not for six months. She was not going to tell her mother about her job, at least not yet.
“How do you like the kitchen? Quite a change isn’t it?”
“Wow. It certainly is.” She took in the bright yellow, a marked difference from the papered rooster deco she remembered. Thomas Carrick had said it reminded him of the farm he worked on when he lived in Idaho and for that reason, it remained long past its time.
Olivia pulled out a plastic container of egg salad and a loaf of rye bread. “Your uncle talked me into it,” she said with a softness around the edge of her words that surprised Tess. “I told him the wallpaper just needed a good scrubbing, but Will insisted the kitchen needed brightening up.”
“Well, it’s definitely bright.” Sunglasses bright.
She smiled. “Silly man. He thought it would perk me up in the morning and I’d cut down on my coffee.”
“Did it work?” Why all the talk about Uncle Will? And the smile. What was that about? Olivia’s smiles were as rare as a purple rose.
“Of course not.” She concentrated on making Tess’s sandwich, placed a pickle on the side, and handed the plate to her.
“Where’s yours?” Enough of the idle chit-chat. Tess wanted to talk about whatever was going on with her mother and how Ramona Casherdon knew more than Tess did.
“I ate a little while ago.” She turned toward the fridge, making it difficult to see if there was truth on her face. But soon, Tess would find out. When Olivia sat down, she cleared her throat and her eyes grew bright, her voice quiet, yet determined. “There’s something I need to tell you, and there’s no good way to do it but say it straight out.”
“Yes?” Here it comes. Now she’ll tell me she’s sick.
“It’s Cash. He’s been injured.” She reached across the table and clasped Tess’s hand. “He needed a place to heal.” She paused. “He’s in Magdalena.”
***
Cash forced his left shoulder to remain straight as he fought through the discomfort. He’d sworn to Gina that Tess would not see him lying in bed like a piece of degenerating muscle mass. He should have been working harder on his therapy, doing the exercises in the booklet the therapist in Philly gave him, hell, acting like he gave a damn about recuperating. Instead, he’d popped pills so he could live in a blur of denial and self-pity. And that was fine, except right now he needed to show Tess he was as strong as she remembered.
Gina tried to convince him the maroon-striped button-down shirt brought out the golden highlights in his hair and added fifteen pounds to his frame. He didn’t give a damn about showing off his hair, but he’d take the weight so he didn’t look weak and helpless.
Maybe he shouldn’t have taken that last pill, but seeing Tess Carrick after eight years of thinking about her even when he wasn’t thinking about her? Well, that wasn’t a challenge a man undertook without pharmaceutical assistance.
Cash snatched the remote to the television and flipped through stations. Nothing interested him, so he clicked it off. Why the hell had he agreed to see her? It wasn’t like they had anything to say to one another, not after all the hurt and too many years. Nate had done his job and informed him Tess was back in town. That was shock enough, but actually seeing her, especially in his debilitated state, well, that was worse than torture. But Ramona had all but begged him to see his ex-fiancée, said it was time for the town to know there was no ill will between the two of them.
As if anybody but his aunt would buy that story.
The doorbell rang at 10:52 A.M. Tess used to set her watch fifteen minutes ahead so she arrived on time, but even so, she was invariably ten minutes late. Looked like that had changed. He wondered what else had changed since the last time he saw her. Cash sucked in a deep breath and eased out of the chair. The pill made his steps slow, the effort forced. He tried to shut down his brain, but the damn thing wouldn’t cooperate. Two more small steps and he opened the door.
The eyes grabbed him first, the color of dew-coated grass in the early morning. So clear, so true, he almost lost his balance.
“Hello, Cash.”
Same voice, but deeper, sexier, if that were possible. Her hair was shorter, cut just below her chin, parted on the side. It looked blonder than he remembered. She still had a damn beautiful body, thinner he guessed from the looks of her arms and neck. No belly, small breasts, and just enough curve to mold to his body.
Eight years changed more than a person’s skin and hair. It changed things deep inside them, sometimes for better, many times for worse. In Cash’s case, it was the latter, but she didn’t need to know that unless she’d already figured it out.
“Come in,” he said, amazed the words tumbled out in any form of coherence. She offered him a tentative smile, the kind she used to reserve for uncomfortable situations and people she didn’t know. Never for him. The pill he’d taken earlier made him languid and stretched his muscles, which made it hard to maintain the posture he’d lived with since he became a policeman. Counting steps and the resolve she would not see him for the crumpled mess he’d become propelled him to his chair.
Tess took a seat next to him on the plaid couch, her long legs tanned, toned, glistening. His gaze remained on them a second too long as he remembered the way she used to wrap them around his waist…
“Thank you for seeing me.”
So perfect. So proper. “No problem. Ramona said you had something to say to me.” He’d agreed to see her, but he had not agreed to idle chit-chat. She could ask her questions and then get out. Besides, if she stayed too long, the smell of her lily-of-the-valley scent would invade his lungs and smother the oxygen in the room.
“This is really hard, for both of us,” she stumbled, tried again, “but we need to talk about that night.”
Why wouldn’t she look at him, head on, eye to eye? Was she afraid of him? Afraid of what he might say? Or was she afraid of showing the pity she must feel for what he’d become? “Oh, you were pretty clear that night.” I hate you, she’d said. You’re a murderer and I never want to see you again.
She shook her head and h
er blond hair shimmied and swung against her jaw. Very sexy. Did she know that? He guessed she did.
“I said horrible things to you, Cash. You didn’t deserve that.” Her eyes misted like they used to when she talked about things that really moved her; like how much she loved him. He did not want to see her pain. That would only be one more burden to carry and he was already sinking in his own misery. Knowing she hated him fueled his commitment to his job with an unrelenting fierceness he would not have possessed had a wife been waiting for him.
“You said what you felt at the time.” When had he gotten so damn philosophical? Maybe too many days in a hospital did that to a person. “It’s done and there’s no going back.” Though I’d give a body part to undo what happened.
Those green eyes settled on his mouth and made his groin jump. That was not a welcome response. Feeling anything for Tess Carrick was dangerous, futile, and stupid, especially stupid.
“After you left…” she started, stopped, looked away again.
Either she was damn good at lying or she really was hurting. The hell of it was, Cash couldn’t tell. Ironic, considering there’d been a time when he could interpret what it meant when she twitched or scratched her nose.
Her voice dipped, smoothed out. “I did things that changed my life and—” she paused, cleared her throat “—I’ve regretted those choices. Many times.”
“Stop.” He held up a hand to still her confession. What had she done? Something tied to forgetting about him, no doubt? Had sex with his best friend? Nate was the closest person to a best friend he’d ever had, aside from Tess, and if she’d looked at Nate sideways, his friend would have hauled her to Cash and made her confess. Sex with a stranger then?
Now that could happen, and imagining another man’s hands on Tess made Cash angry, another emotion he did not want to associate with his ex-fiancée. But there they were—lust and anger squashed into the same breath as her name.
Damn.
He could still get rid of her and deny whatever feelings were swirling in his gut, his brain, every part of him. Hadn’t he been denying those feelings since the second she told him she hated him? Cash shifted in the chair and winced as pain stabbed his shoulder.