by Mary Campisi
“Cash? Are you okay?”
Pity from Tess? Hardly. “I’m fine.” He pushed past the pain and pasted a smile on his face. “But I don’t want to hear about any of your misguided choices. I’ve got enough of my own to carry, so you’re just going to have to deal with them yourself.”
“But—”
“No, Tess.” The years slipped away until they were kids again, about to be married, so much in love. And then it all crashed around them. “No,” he said again.
She ignored him, her voice growing softer. “You deserve to know.”
What the hell did that mean? He deserved to know exactly how she’d loaded a few more rounds of ammo in the chamber to destroy him. He couldn’t take it. “Some things are better left alone. Take my advice on that.”
She pulled her lower lip through her teeth and zing, he grew hard. Just like that. Now he was pissed. He had to get her out of here, out of Magdalena, too. As soon as possible. “So, when are you leaving town?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure.” Pause. “I’m thinking a few weeks; it depends.”
A few weeks as in fourteen days or was a few weeks twenty-one? Or longer? That was too much time. He couldn’t risk it. “That long? Why?” He wanted her gone and out of his life before Pop Benito and his garden club crusaders tried to play matchmaker.
He must have sounded harsher than he intended because those eyes filled with something awfully close to hurt. “I have some things to take care of and I wanted to spend a little time with my mother.”
“I doubt Olivia needs you to babysit her.”
A splash of pink climbed her neck, settled on her cheeks. “I didn’t know my presence would offend you so much.”
Offend him? That wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind. Bother him? Make him remember things he’d fought years to forget? Now that was a hell of a lot closer to the truth. Tess Carrick’s presence in the universe bothered him because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget her—the softness of her hair brushing against his belly, the taste of her skin after they made love, the greenness of her eyes when she told him she loved him, the— No! If he didn’t stop now, he’d say something stupid, like how he wished things could have turned out differently, and if he were really crazy, he might even admit, once in a while, usually after several whiskeys, he wished they could have tried again.
Admitting any of those tragic truths would be no better than a gun without bullets. So, Cash did what he did best when face to face with himself. He lied. He looked her straight in the eye and said, “Now you know.”
Chapter 6
He was so thin. Gaunt would be a better word. All angles and slashes. He’d cinched his belt an extra notch but his jeans, at least a size too big, hung on his tall frame. The button-down shirt bunched at the belly, like there was too much material, or not enough man to fill it. Cash had always been lean, but he’d been a muscled lean. Now he looked weathered and sinewy, like skin with all the fat sucked out.
And still, he’d snatched her breath away.
She tried to convince herself the skittering heartbeat that kicked into gear the second she saw him—and didn’t leave until she’d pulled out of the driveway—was nothing more than shock mixed with sympathy. But that was such a lie. Beneath the ill-fitting clothes and opaque gaze, he was still Cash and that was dangerous. When he spoke, his voice had seeped into the tiny cracks of despair to the loneliness that lived in the center of her soul. Ramona had told Tess she was the only one who could save Cash. What the woman didn’t know was that Cash might be the only one who could save Tess.
Of course, that wasn’t going to happen, not once he knew the truth about the baby and what happened afterward that had stolen her chance for a normal life. She would live with that pain forever and even if Cash grew to desire her, want a life and a second chance with her, she knew there would be none. Once she told him the truth, all of it, he’d discard her. There would be no more calling her name in delirious longing. There would be nothing but disdain. He would be done with her for good, and then he would move on, find a wife, have a family.
And that was exactly what Ramona Casherdon was counting on.
***
People came to Pop Benito with their problems. He listened. He counseled in a roundabout manner that dropped insight into a person’s lap. He never divulged conversations or names. The town referred to him as “The Godfather of Magdalena” and that was fine by him.
He’d called a special meeting of The Bleeding Hearts Society because there was serious business that needed tending to, and it had to do with little Tess Carrick, who wasn’t so little anymore, and Daniel “Cash” Casherdon, one of Pop’s favorites. Even if the boy hadn’t chosen a profession as a policeman, Pop would still put him on the keeper shelf beside his Sinatra albums. The boy had zing. He wasn’t zinging much right now, not with a bum shoulder, a bad attitude, and a “she done me wrong” heartache a mile long. But things would get better. Those two tragic lovebirds belonged together, and Pop vowed on his dear Lucy’s favorite Chianti that he would see it happened.
And that was the reason for the meeting. Christine Desantro, bless her heart, had made the phone calls for him, read Pop’s “classified” letter to them, and driven Pop to the meeting. She was a member of the group, too, but between the baby and helping the town with budgets, loans, and overall money sense, she didn’t get to a lot of meetings. Pop could have made the two-mile trek because his hip was all healed up and he had new tennis shoes with extra bounce—but he liked spending time with Christine, and she’d probably bring Anna with her. That baby was the spitting image of her mama and dang but if Nate didn’t puff up proud whenever he saw her. Or maybe he was looking at his wife when he was puffing up. Or both. Didn’t matter. The boy was happy, and for a person who hugged doom and gloom for too many years, that was saying something.
With a little help, Cash could end up just as happy as Nate. They used to be best buddies, until the horrible event that ripped a hole in the town and tore Cash Casherdon and Tess Carrick apart. But now, Cash was back in town, and maybe he was a bit banged up, but destiny often showed her face in times of adversity. That’s what his Lucy always told him. And a sprinkle or two of holy water helped ward off the bad times, too.
Pop sipped Mimi Pendergrass’s specialty hibiscus tea and picked up a slice of Miriam Desantro’s pumpkin roll. Ramona Casherdon was the go-to person for refreshments, but since she wasn’t invited for soon-to-be-revealed obvious reasons, Christine had asked her mother-in-law to fill in. That was big of Miriam because she didn’t exactly condone The Bleeding Hearts, saying they were too busy poking in people’s lives and not busy enough tending their own. True, to a point.
Pop munched on the pumpkin roll, savored the cream cheese filling. Miriam had Lily and Nate, and now Christine and Anna. Many of the group only had memories and each other, which made the goings-on of the townsfolk more compelling, kind of like watching a real-life soap opera. And the kick of it was that every now and again, The Society could tweak the outcome a bit and get a “happily ever after.”
That’s what they were all here for today: figuring out the “happily ever after” for Cash and Tess, but before they could do that, there was the business of how Tess just so happened to drive into Magdalena when she hadn’t set foot here in eight years. It did make a person wonder if there’d been a snitch among them, but who?
“Pop?” Mimi Pendergrass saluted him with her mug of hibiscus tea. “We’re ready to start.”
Pop cleared his throat and scanned the table, taking in the familiar faces of the group. Of particular interest were Will Carrick and Bree Kinkaid. Will was Tess’s uncle and had been Cash’s boss and mentor. The man also had close ties to his sister-in-law, Olivia Carrick, Tess’s mother, and the ever-pregnant Bree Kinkaid had been best friends with Tess and was still friends with Gina Servetti, one of the only people allowed in the Casherdon home. Maybe Gina was there for physical therapy sessions, but maybe she’d been t
here for something else, too. Gathering and sharing information, which she’d passed on to Bree, who took it upon herself to contact her once-best friend. Somehow, that didn’t quite wash. Maybe Will had been the one to make the call to Tess. Poor man had always regretted what happened and even said he should have stepped in when JJ was out of line, but with a sick wife, he’d been tapped out in the energy department. Was this his way of tossing Cash and Tess together again? If it were, the attempt was about as lame as one of his jokes.
But Will wasn’t the type to mix in other people’s business, necessary or not. So who was it?
“Pop?”
“Huh? What? Oh, excuse me.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and nodded. “I been gnawing on a predicament for two days and I can’t seem to work my way to an answer. That’s why I called the meeting. Somebody here’s got to know something about how two people who haven’t set foot in the same state in eight years can both end up here in Magdalena at the same time.”
“You mean Cash and Tess, don’t you, Pop?”
Bree Kinkaid looked at him with those amber eyes and he wasn’t sure if she was just being movie-star dramatic or was too dim-witted to put the puzzle together. Hard to say with a husband who wanted her to pop out babies like a popcorn machine.
“That’s right, Bree. I’m talking about Cash Casherdon and Tess Carrick.” He adjusted his glasses and peered at the faces of the group. “That’s too close to be called a coincidence. I want to know who did it and why.”
Bree’s face lit up and she burst out, “So that’s why Ramona isn’t here! You didn’t invite her because you don’t want her to know.” Her voice dipped and she added, “Tess’s name is dirt to her.”
Mimi Pendergrass cleared her throat and shook her head with enough gusto to bounce the shiny ball earrings she wore. “I still can’t think about that sad event without tearing up. I could hardly take down the decorations for their wedding reception, and when I had to scoop up the rose petals off the honeymoon bed,” she paused and blinked hard, “well, it was plain torture.”
“The cake was good, though, wasn’t it?” Wanda Cummings piped in. “Glad we convinced Ramona not to throw it in the trash can.”
“And I was eating Jordan almonds for weeks,” Bree said. “Even though the blue ones didn’t help in the baby department.” Her voice turned soft, wistful. “But Ella Blue sure is a daddy’s girl.”
“There’s no sense reliving bad memories. Best to let them lie and move on.” This from Will Carrick, who rubbed a work-roughened hand over his jaw and frowned. “I’ve been wondering the same thing as you, Pop. How did Tess end up here after too many years of pretending we don’t exist?”
Will had a bead on that niece of his, and Pop would bet his new crop of parsley the man had a bead on his sister-in-law, too. Olivia Carrick was a tough bird but she had to be with a daydreamer like Thomas Carrick. The dang man could tell a good story fluffed with terms like gonna do and want to do but he never quite grasped the idea of did.
Will, on the other hand, was a man of action, duty, and his word. When MS finally took his dear Julia two years ago, Will mourned her something fierce, but eventually, he realized he had to move on or smother in his own misery. That’s when he’d started hanging around Olivia Carrick’s, fixing a door for her, painting the mailbox. Didn’t fool Pop. He could spot a dog on the hunt from across town. Not that either one of those two recognized the ritual for what it was, but maybe now with Olivia having some sort of health issue (according to Wanda whose daughter spotted Olivia in the waiting room of the imaging center at Magdalena General two weeks ago), the two might get closer.
Pop scratched his jaw, considered the possibilities. “I can’t picture Olivia calling up Tess and telling her about the tests she had done.”
“Tests?” Bree glanced around the table, clearly confused.
Mimi waved a hand in the air, dismissing Pop’s comment. “Some female tests. And Olivia’s too practical to call her daughter home to hold her hand because of a test or two.”
“Unless,” Bree Kinkaid said in a swoosh of secrecy, “it’s bad news.”
“Stop it, Bree.” Will Carrick threw her a stern look, another mark in Pop’s book that said something was brewing between that man and his sister-in-law.
Pop would think about those two later. For now, he had to get to the bottom of Tess’s sudden arrival in Magdalena, so he could start working on a way to get the two lovelorn birds together again. “Show of hands. Did anybody at this table contact Tess Carrick about her mother or,” he paused, “her ex-fiancé?” They all shook their heads. “Okay, then we’ll chalk Tess’s return to destiny and go from there.”
“And where exactly would you be heading?”
“Will, you know the boy better than most of us. He’s had his hide beaten, been shot at and shot up. I hear he’s got a bum shoulder and a disposition that makes the old Nate Desantro look like a charmer. Remember Nate a few years back, miserable and wanting the rest of the world to share in his misery? Lily was the only good thing in his life, the only person he cared about other than his mother.” His voice softened and he said, “And then Christine drove into Magdalena, unannounced and unwelcome, kind of like Tess. Look what happened to them? They’re so in love they could do ads for one of those match-maker places.”
Mimi coughed. “Not exactly, Pop, but we get the idea.”
“Good, because I want you all to think about that picture and remember how Nate was not exactly keen on poor Christine, and how Christine didn’t want nothin’ to do with any of us. But then things changed and that’s my point. Tragedy can pull even the most unlikely people together and give them a second chance if they let it. I say Cash and Tess have never stopped loving each other and it’s up to us to make them realize it.”
“That is just so sweet.” Bree sniffed and rubbed her big belly. “I don’t know if it’s hormones or the story, but I think I’m going to cry.”
Mimi reached across the table and patted her hand. “There, there, dear. Pop’s right. Cash and Tess belong together and this town’s got to help make that happen.”
***
Christine tossed a handful of twigs and leaves in an old red wheelbarrow. She’d spent the last hour cleaning up the backyard from the debris that winter had left behind. Clumps of wet leaves, twigs, skinny branches, even wispy balls of paper-thin hydrangea flowers lay scattered on the wet ground. Nate hadn’t wanted her to slop around in the mess, had said he’d take care of it this weekend, but the fresh air cleared her lungs and her head, and it was good for the baby, too.
Anna sat propped in her stroller, bundled from the chilly spring air. This yard was so different from the one in Chicago that was dressed and adorned with manicured shrubberies and hand-selected flowers. Gloria had always insisted on gardeners who could match the color and tone of the season to the shutters and brick on the house. How exactly did one do that? Christine often wondered if her mother interviewed the candidates and made them submit sample portfolios. Of course, the yard was beautiful and wonderfully accessorized, but no one ever visited it. All that color and beauty wasted. How sad was that?
Nate and Jack Finnegan had planted four bags of bulbs in the backyard last fall. Hyacinth, daffodils, tulips, and allium. She’d wanted to help, but Nate absolutely would not hear of it, as though a pregnant woman had never dug in the soil before. Apparently, he thought his wife should be relegated to supervisor in a “point and plant” capacity. Christine had let him fuss over her, because what pregnant woman doesn’t like to be fussed over? The fussing hadn’t stopped after the baby, though. Nate respected her need for independence but he took every opportunity to make her feel special and loved: fresh-brewed coffee and croissants in bed, lavender soap made by Jack Finnegan’s youngest daughter, special-order winter gloves for the sub-zero weather. And then there was the way he cherished her body, with a tender fierceness that stole her heart and her breath…
This world they’d made with their baby was magical an
d holy, and Christine vowed to never take it for granted. When Nate played the piano for her after dinner, his long fingers stroking the keys with grace and passion, she sat beside him, their shoulders and thighs touching, the baby cradled in her arms. It was as close to a “perfect” life as she could imagine.
Before her father’s death, she would not have envisioned living in brushed cotton and flannel with a fireplace and a giant of a man to keep her warm. She’d thought a fast-paced life of constant challenge and noteworthy accomplishments were the marks of success, and with that success would come the by-product—happiness. But nothing compared to this life and if not for the tragic loss of her father, she might never have known it, and that would have been the real tragedy. In a roundabout way, her father had given her a chance to live life on her own terms, and despite what he’d done and why he’d done it, she would always be grateful for that.
Pop said people who found their soul mates had a duty to help others find theirs. She didn’t quite know about that, but Pop had pretty firm ideas on the matter, even a three-ringed binder with plans of execution that could make a plotted-out meeting between a couple appear as nothing more than chance. The more time she spent with Angelo Benito, the more she learned he left little to chance, depending instead on the guidance of his dead wife, Lucy, an hour of daily prayer, and the ideas that came to him minutes before he slipped into his afternoon nap.
His latest efforts had to do with the couple the whole town was buzzing about: Cash Casherdon and Tess Carrick.
Christine didn’t believe in butting into other people’s business, but after hearing their sad story, she wanted to see them together and would be willing, in small doses, to enlist in the effort. She was certain Pop would be more than happy to provide detailed instructions, similar to what he’d done this afternoon at the emergency Bleeding Hearts meeting.