by Mary Campisi
What the hell was going on and why hadn’t either of them told him about it?
He sat on the edge of the bed and began to read.
Chapter 15
The banging woke Tess from a half-sleep. Her head ached and she’d cried so many tears, her eyes were swollen and her nose hurt. If only she could rewind the last twelve hours and forget what she saw…but the image of the beautiful blond on Cash’s lap would not go away. Had she really thought he’d been pining for her all these years, so caught up in his grief that he’d never been able to move on? Never been able to find comfort and commitment with another woman? Just because she’d made a few attempts that ended once the word long-term spilled out did not mean he’d buried himself in work and shunned relationships as she had. Or maybe it wasn’t even a relationship. Maybe it was simply a way to pass time. When Cash had touched her a few nights ago, the years apart had slipped away and it was almost as if they’d never been apart, but they had. Eight years was a long time.
“Tess?” The banging had stopped, replaced with her mother’s soft voice on the other side of the bedroom door.
“Yes?”
“Cash is here. He says it’s urgent.”
“I don’t want to see him.” I can’t see him. “Tell him I’m asleep.” Seconds later, the door burst open, followed by the brilliance of the overhead light. “Mom, what’s going on?”
“Get up.” Cash stood at the end of her bed, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. “We need to talk.”
Her mother interrupted. “Cash, I don’t think this is a good time. I don’t want to have to call your uncle, but I will.”
He ignored Olivia and threw something at Tess. It was a letter—the letter.
“Still not want to talk?”
She glanced at her mother. “It’s okay. He can stay.”
Olivia was not convinced it was a good idea. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Pause. “Can you close the door?”
When they were alone, he moved closer, his breathing harsh and unsteady, his expression fierce. “How could you not tell me you were carrying my baby?”
There was anger and pain in his voice. “I…I should have.” She sat up and scooted toward the head of the bed, out of his reach. “By the time I found out I was pregnant, you were gone and I was at Riki’s.”
“Oh, that’s a good one. I’ll bet she gave you some great advice.” His jaw clenched, unclenched, before he spit out, “Is she the one who suggested the abortion?”
Tess looked away. It would be easy to blame everything on her unstable sister, but it wouldn’t be the truth. “It was my idea.” He looked at her as though he didn’t understand what she’d just said. “I was so scared and I hated you at that moment. The last thing I wanted was a reminder of you for the rest of my life.” When he remained silent, she went on. “I couldn’t do it. No matter what my feelings were for you, I could not go through with it. I walked out of the clinic and went home.” Her voice dipped. “The next day I lost the baby, a fallopian tube, and a lot of blood. The doctor called it an ectopic pregnancy.” She paused, sipped in air. “There were complications. A high fever and days in the hospital on antibiotics. It was horrible and I couldn’t tell anyone about it.”
“You had your sister.” His voice splintered with sarcasm and not the least bit of sympathy. “I’m sure she was a big help.”
He wanted her to suffer, she understood that, but the meanness in his words was difficult to take. “Riki did what she could.”
Cash shook his head. “I’m sure. So, what’s the part about not being able to have kids?”
Despite his anger, his tone had shifted, settled down. “When I went for my six-week checkup, I had a lot of tenderness. They did some tests and the doctor said it was from scarring.” She could still see his kind face giving her the news. “He said it could be difficult to get pregnant, and even if I did, I had an increased risk of another ectopic pregnancy.”
He seemed to be thinking about what she’d just told him. “Difficult doesn’t mean impossible.”
She shrugged. “It’s easier to think it will never happen than to hope it will and be disappointed.” She’d probably just shown him more than she should have, but so what? It didn’t matter now.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She glanced up. His eyes were on her, studying her face. “Thank you.” He deserved to hear the rest of the truth. “I came back because your aunt threatened to tell my mother about the pregnancy if I didn’t.” She glanced at the letter on the bed and said, “I wrote that letter because I owed you the truth. It was returned several weeks after I sent it.” She paused, pushed out the next words. “I had no idea your aunt read it and kept a copy.”
Cash ran a hand through his hair, blew out a long breath. “So, you had no intention of coming back here because of me.”
It wasn’t even a question. She shrugged. “Not at the time.”
“And she wanted you here, why?” He pinned her with eyes full of hurt, anger, and disbelief.
“To…make you care about life again.”
“Huh. And how were you supposed to do that?” He rubbed his jaw. “Sleep with me?”
“No!” Then a softer, “No, that was not part of the deal. She was worried about you, about how you didn’t seem to care about anything. I think she was desperate to help you. I guess she thought I might give you hope again.”
He shook his head and swore under his breath. “Oh, you’ve done more than that, haven’t you, Tess? You gave me hope, made me really start to believe in second chances, and then you ripped it apart.”
“There’s no reason for you to believe me or trust me, but I was going to tell you about the baby.” She drew in a deep breath, held his gaze, and said, “And what I almost did, and that I might not be able to get pregnant. I didn’t know how, but I knew I had to do it.” Her voice cracked, split apart. “And I knew once I told you, we’d be done.”
She waited for him to tell her she could take her good intentions and go to hell. But he didn’t. He said nothing. And then he was gone.
***
“Oh, Will, this is so sad.”
“All we can do now is hope Tess and Cash are strong enough to fight through this.”
“I feel so helpless.” Olivia placed a banana-nut muffin on the plate and handed it to him. Ramona Casherdon had given her the recipe years ago, when they were still on speaking terms. She said the key to a good banana-nut muffin was the sour cream, and she’d been right. That was the last thing she’d been right about.
Will eased the paper wrapper off and bit into the muffin. “You sure do know how to bake a good muffin. These are delicious.”
Olivia smiled and sipped her coffee. She should just say thank you and let it go, but she didn’t want that woman somehow hearing about the muffins and accusing Olivia of calling the recipe her own. “Thank you,” she managed, “but I only followed the recipe.” She slid her gaze to the metal cooling rack and the muffins lined up like plump soldiers in two straight lines. “Ramona Casherdon gave me the recipe.”
He paused, his hand halfway to his mouth. “Ramona? When did she do that?”
Of course he’d sound incredulous; who wouldn’t? The town knew she and Cash’s aunt hadn’t spoken a word to each other in eight years. “Before.” She brushed a few crumbs off her lap.
“Ah.” He popped more muffin in his mouth and chewed.
“What?” There was an opinion wrapped in that sound and she might as well ask him about it now, because sooner or later he’d tell her anyway.
“Interesting you’re still using the woman’s recipes.”
She shrugged. “No sense trying to find another one when this one works just fine.”
“Hmm. She says the same thing about the dish towels you gave her.”
“She still has those?” Olivia had gifted them to her nine years ago after they’d spent the afternoon making pumpkin rolls for The Bleeding Hearts Society bake sale.
Will nodded, a smile slipping across his face. “How about that?”
“Hmm.” It was Olivia’s turn to make a sound that said more than a string of sentences could. How about that, indeed? Why hadn’t Ramona tossed them in the garbage or, at the very least, thrown them in a charity bag?
“Olivia? Did you ever think you and Ramona aren’t that much different from each other?”
“What?” He might as well have said she was Edith Finnegan’s twin. “Ramona Casherdon and I are nothing alike. How could you even say that? Seriously, Will, that is very insulting.”
He shrugged, the blueness of his gaze spilling over her, into her, perhaps seeing what she did not want him to see. “You’re a lot alike,” he repeated, his voice soft. “You won’t let anyone get close. Not even your family.”
“That’s not—”
“But it is. You loved my brother but you couldn’t depend on him, so you had to learn to take care of yourself, take care of the kids, shield him from disappointment and the reality of being a parent and a husband. His absence hurt you, but after a while, you built a wall so nothing could get in, not even him. You didn’t show your children your pain, but you didn’t show them joy either.”
No. No. “I had to be strong for all of us.” What good would it have done if the children had witnessed her tears and fear?
“They never learned how to deal with problems.” He paused, took a deep breath. “I’m guessing you and Tom never sat down and talked about issues and ways to handle them. How would the kids learn to deal with conflict in a positive way?”
“Oh, I can just picture Riki being positive in the face of conflict, can’t you? And JJ? That boy thrived on conflict and then blamed everybody else for his problems.”
His tone gentled. “And Tess?”
Olivia gripped the edge of the table and said in a firm voice, “Do not blame her breakup on me. I was dealing with my son’s death and I did not have the strength for her pain, too.”
“I know, and I’m not blaming you. It’s just that you wouldn’t let anyone help you or Tess. You kept us out and then Tess was gone.”
“I never should have let her visit Riki.” She sighed, worked her hands over her face. “That I regret most of all.”
“Tess needs you, Olivia. She needs you to open up and show her you care, show her it’s okay to be scared, okay to lean on someone else, that you don’t have to always be the strong one with all the answers.”
“She knows I care.”
He pinned her with that gaze that saw too much. “Does she?” He pushed back his chair and stood. “You don’t let anybody see that you care, Olivia. I’ll bet you haven’t even told her about the surgery, have you?”
When she looked away, he sighed. “I figured as much. You’re going to end up alone and that’s a shame, because you have a lot to give and a lifetime to share.”
She sniffed and swiped a hand across her face. “I am perfectly fine.”
He snatched his ball cap from the table and fitted it on his head. “Of course you are. You don’t need anybody, do you?”
“What do you want from me?” Why was he ruining their friendship with cruel words and accusations?
A sad smile flitted over his lips. “I wanted your friendship. I wanted you to lean on me so I could help you through the surgery,” he paused, added, “I meant the hysterectomy. Yes, I know. Surprised? Don’t be. When a person cares about another person, the awkwardness disappears and it doesn’t matter. I thought, no, I’d hoped that maybe in time, our friendship might grow into something else.” The smile flattened and disappeared. “But I see now that you’ll never let that happen. So, call me if you need your sink fixed or gutters cleaned and I’ll help out. Other than that, I won’t be around.”
***
If someone had told Olivia she’d find herself outside Ramona Casherdon’s house, she would have called them delusional. And yet, here she was, a pumpkin roll in one hand and an apology in the other. When Ramona opened the door, there was a split-second of pure surprise before her expression smoothed and she said in an even tone, “Hello, Olivia.” And then, “Cash isn’t here.”
“I’m not here to see Cash.” She paused, wondering if the conversation would occur on the doorstep for passerbys to hear and speculate. “I’ve come to see you.”
Ramona’s dark eyebrows pinched together and a tiny sound slipped through her lips. She had not expected that answer and could not quite hide the surprise, maybe even shock, that flitted across her face. “Well then.”
She opened the door and Olivia entered. Not much had changed in the more than eight years since Olivia had stood in this very room deciding on the cake Ramona would make for Tess’s bridal shower. The room appeared darker, a bit more worn and frayed, with no bright spots. Olivia guessed it wasn’t much different from its owner. “I brought you a pumpkin roll.”
Ramona stared at it so long, Olivia thought she might refuse it with a nasty comment, but she didn’t. Instead, she motioned to the tiny kitchen in the back and said, “I just made a pot of coffee. I’ll pour you a cup.”
That was Ramona’s best effort at hospitality. How could Will say they were a lot alike? Olivia might not invite many people into her home, but she certainly welcomed them once they were there. She sat in one of the four white wooden chairs and set the pumpkin roll on the table.
“I never could quite get the knack of making those without the cake part tearing.”
“You have to make sure it’s cooled enough but not too much.” Olivia shrugged. “It can be tricky.”
Ramona set the coffee mug in front of Olivia and unwrapped the pumpkin roll. After all these years, she remembered Olivia preferred a drop of cream in her coffee, no sugar. She sliced two pieces and slid a plate toward her. “We’ve never been like other women, building up the niceties with idle chit-chat, so we can drop what we really want to say in between.” She bit into a piece of pumpkin roll and studied Olivia. “Why are you here and what do you want?”
Olivia might not like idle chit-chat, but she’d learned a sprinkle here and there sweetened the truth. Apparently, Ramona Casherdon did not subscribe to sweeteners of any kind, in her coffee or her words. She wanted the straight-up truth? Fine, she’d get it. “You blackmailed Tess to get her to come back here.”
Ramona met her gaze straight on. “I did.”
“How cruel. How could you do that?”
Her dark eyes narrowed, her lips pinched with determination. “When someone you love is suffering, you’ll do whatever is necessary to take that pain away.” She paused, enunciated, “Anything. Cash gave up on living and I was not going to sit here and watch my nephew waste away with pills, drink, and regret.” Her voice filled with a deadly calm. “Your daughter’s name was on his lips when he was delirious with pain. She was the only one who could pull him out. What should I have done, asked her politely to return to Magdalena and make Cash whole again? I had to use you and your self-righteousness to force her to agree.”
“That was a horrible thing to do.” And it was equally horrible that Tess had not been able to come to her with the truth.
“The holes in your relationship with your daughter are on you. If she’d been able to come to you, I wouldn’t have had leverage, now would I?”
Olivia rubbed her temples, wishing she could block out this woman’s words. How could she be so callous, so uncaring toward others? “Well, now I know, don’t I? And probably most of the town knows, too.”
“That’s not on me. I didn’t say anything.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” She shrugged and looked at Ramona. “My daughter’s heart will never heal and your nephew’s refusing he has a heart.”
Ramona sighed and when she spoke, there was a hint of pain in her words. “I saw all of this happening, right up to the point where Tess tells him the truth and Cash tosses her aside. I thought if he had his vindication for all the pain she caused him, he’d be able to move on.” She stared at the wedge of pumpkin roll left on her p
late. “I did not think he’d be in worse shape than when he was injured.” When she looked at Olivia, there were tears in her eyes. “I’m the cause of that pain, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.” A tear slipped down her cheek, but she made no attempt to stop it, or the one that followed. “What do I know about loving like that? I could never be that exposed.” She shook her head. “Might as well strip naked and jump in a pond in winter.”
“That would be a sight.” Olivia’s voice dipped. “I’m not much good at that either, but I’m trying to be better.”
Ramona eyed her. “You and Will Carrick?”
How did she know? And who else did? “Maybe.”
“He’s a good man.” She paused. “If you don’t mind sharing your thoughts, your heart,” long pause, “and your bed.”
Good Lord, just the thought made her jittery. “I’m working on it.”
“So, when’s the hysterectomy?”
“How do you know about that? Did Pop open his mouth?”
A hint of a smile flitted across her face. “He might have said something but only because he knows I’ve been through it.”
“You had a hysterectomy? When? And why didn’t I know about it?”
Ramona shot her a look. “I could have been buried six months and I’d have made certain you didn’t know about it.”
At least this time, the woman followed up the comment with a sly smile, which made Olivia smile, too. “Yes, I see your point.”
“It was six years ago. I saw a doctor in the city. Pop and Lucy took me for the surgery, and once I got home, Lucy checked in on me every day, brought me food, newspapers, and, of course, pizzelles.”
“I never knew. No one said a word.”
“I said I threw out my back and couldn’t work for five or six weeks. Nobody thought to question me.” She smiled. “But then I could walk down the street with a giraffe and nobody but Pop would say a word.”