by Mary Campisi
But it did matter. It would always matter. Christian thought the past would never catch up with her and if it did, no one would recognize it as hers anyway. He discounted the one person who might piece together the truth and recognize her deceit. Nine years and nine states separated them, but she feared him most.
“I saw the show today.” The softness in Christian’s voice cocooned her and she snuggled closer. “I like where you’re going with it.”
“You didn’t think it was too revealing?” Writing a story was one thing but watching the scripted words morph onto the screen and slip through someone else’s mouth? Especially words tied to a past only three people in the entire state of California knew about? That was close to torture.
“Give yourself a little credit, Audra. Soap Digest wouldn’t call you a masterful storyteller if it weren’t true.”
Of course Christian supported her but what did a man entranced by the Cold War know about hype and wordplay? She sighed and said, “There are no masterful storytellers in daytime drama.”
He was not going to be denied his opinion. “What about People’s blurb last month? Bland doesn’t make People, unless it’s a new diet or health food craze.”
Her husband, the optimist. “You don’t think it has to do with the public’s insane quest to unearth the identity of the show’s head writer?”
“Maybe.” He stroked her back, played with the ends of her shoulder-length hair in that familiar way he did when he was thinking, as though he were turning the pages of a well-worn document.
“It has everything to do with morbid curiosity. Howard’s got the press wrapped up in the mystery and he’s going to play it as long as he can.” By the time her identity squeaked out, and it would eventually, she’d be months, maybe even a year past the current storyline, and it wouldn’t matter. It only mattered now, when the critical aspects of the story might be recognized for what they were—a duplication of her own life. From the moment she walked on the set thirteen months ago, the staff knew her only as Rhetta Hardt, a clever name born of Howard Krozer’s imagination and obsession with all things German. The rest of the staff believed they were protecting “Rhetta’s” identity, forming a camaraderie of sorts to band against overzealous fans and too-curious reporters, and it was this desire to be part of the informed group that led them to trust blindly.
Many whispered their own suspicions about the dark-haired woman who rarely smiled. One said she’d defected from Germany to flee the stigma of parents convicted of spying. Another maintained Rhetta was in witness protection for turning state’s evidence on a kingpin boyfriend who had been engaged in drug or arms dealing. Only a few believed Howard Krozer’s fabricated story. And once they met Christian, who had been introduced sans last name, he became part of the wondering. Perhaps a good part of the fantasizing as well. The costume designer with the double knee replacements invited Christian to coffee every time she saw him, even brought raspberry streusel when she knew he’d be on the set. And 38DD Sophia Pregganio pumped extra purr into her love scenes when she spotted him. Even Roland Gergi offered up a wink and a promise to ditch his partner, Julio, if Christian would only look his way. It was all spoken in fun with the half-seriousness of those who aren’t quite joking.
And all the while, Howard smiled and popped handfuls of Chiclets in his mouth, another obsession of the sixty-something soap guru. People don’t care about the truth, he’d told Audra. They only care about supporting what they believe is the truth, which is rarely even close. He was right about that. The truth was nowhere close.
“So—” Christian heaved a sigh and pulled her from her thoughts “—are we going to talk about tomorrow?”
And there it was, the segue to tomorrow and the beginning of eight days of longing and loneliness.
“Audra?”
“I’m sorry. Just distracted, I guess.”
Christian kissed the top of her head. “It’s not the end of the world, you know. It’s only eight days.”
His presence calmed her as it had so many times before—during the scandalous death of her mother, the loss of her beloved grandmother, the horrific labor pains, and emergency C-section. “I know,” she murmured, relaxing despite the dreaded separation. “This is just not a good time. Kara’s really excited about her gymnastics classes and Peter promised to take her to the set next week and…” Who was she kidding? It would never be a good time.
“I’ll miss you.”
When she didn’t answer, he loosened his hold and tipped her chin up so he could see her face. “Moscow was twenty days.”
“Moscow was work. And besides, it’s a world away from San Diego.”
“So is Holly Springs.”
“Very funny.” She envied Christian’s light-hearted view of the world. With him there was always a solution, often tinged with a glint of humor that made the worst scenarios seem not so bad, especially when delivered with a wide smile and flash of dimple. “I’m going to miss you and Kara, whether it’s three days away or thirteen.”
“I know.” And then with the tiniest glimmer of hope, he said, “You could go with us.”
“You know I can’t.”
He didn’t respond, just held her while she breathed in his comforting scent. From the moment they’d exchanged vows nine years ago, he’d promised to be there for her and he had, with the exception of the annual research projects that took him to Moscow. But she hadn’t minded any of it, not even the three-week excursion to Altai and Novosibirsk. History professors researched and traveled so when they returned home they could write and lecture with purpose and familiarity. It was the biannual trips to Holly Springs, New York, that left her queasy and unsettled. Every trip. Every year. Every time.
“How about I fix my favorite girl a piece of cinnamon toast, just the way she likes it?”
A smile slipped grudgingly from Audra’s lips. “Only if it has gobs of butter and your special cinnamon sugar mix.”
“Absolutely.” He kissed her softly on the mouth. “Then we’ll head to bed. Morning will come soon enough.”
Chapter 2
“Be careful, there won’t be a net underneath.”—Audra Valentine Wheyton
“Mommy!” Kara bounced into the room in a whirl of pink cotton and leapt onto Audra’s lap. “Can I wake up Daddy?”
At eight years old, Kara Rachel Wheyton had Christian’s hair, a golden curly thickness with a life of its own that required extra-wide hair bands to keep it tied up. She had his smile, too—open, welcoming, not shy and timid like Audra’s had been at that age. Her eyes were a pale blue that shifted to light and dark depending on mood. There wasn’t much about her that resembled Audra, perhaps her ears or maybe her toes, a sad contribution from someone who had weathered three months of morning sickness, a swollen belly, and an emergency caesarean section.
“Mommy? Please let me wake up Daddy.”
Audra clasped her daughter’s small hands and kissed the center of each palm. She had her father’s fingers. And his chin. “Go get dressed first, pumpkin. Then we’ll wake Daddy.”
“Can I call Grandma before we leave, too?”
“If we have time.”
“I wish you were coming so you could see the swing set Grandpa built for me.” Her lips pulled into a wide smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “The rope is really fun. And he added a fort and a ladder.”
“Be careful, there won’t be a net underneath.”
She made a face. “I don’t need a net. I’m eight years old.”
“Such an old lady.”
“Yeah.” Kara’s smile flipped, then faded. “Why can’t you come with us?”
“You know why.” It was easier to slip a lie into the reason Audra couldn’t return to her hometown than to try and explain the truth.
“I wish you didn’t have that stupid job.”
“Kara—”
“Why can’t you have a job like Daddy? He can take off in the summers.”
“Well, that’s because Daddy’s in lov
e with things like the Truman Doctrine and the Yalta Conference and he spends his summers learning about them.”
Kara giggled. “He’s in love with you, too.”
“Yes, sweetheart, he’s in love with me, too.” She pointed at her daughter and whispered, “And you.”
“Yup.” Kara bounded off Audra’s lap as though her mother were a balance beam and said, “Uncle Peter said he’d take me to Universal Studios when I got back from Holly Springs.”
“Good. He can ride with you on Jurassic Park.”
“’Cause your tummy jumps too high right before you hit the water.”
“Right.” Talk of Peter Andellieu always got Kara’s attention. She’d been infatuated with the plastic surgeon and star of “Dr. Perfection” since the first time Audra invited him home to dinner five years ago. Despite his impeccable wardrobe and the fact that he’d never engaged in conversation with a child, much less an over-inquisitive one like Kara, he’d crouched next to her and accepted the soggy puzzle piece she thrust at him with good grace and a dazzling smile. By the third visit, Kara dubbed him “Uncle” Peter, a title that gained him official entry into the Wheyton family.
“Daddy said he and Uncle Peter will take me to a Padres game when we get back. You can go, too, if you want.”
Relieved to have the conversation shift to more pleasant topics, Audra wrinkled her nose. “I’ll wait for football. Now scoot and get ready, then we’ll wake Daddy.”
“Be right back.” Kara flipped down the hall toward the stairs with three cartwheels and a round-off.
Audra straightened the pillows on the couch and tucked a copy of Soap Digest into the magazine rack. She’d better wake Christian and warn him his daughter would be pouncing on him in a few minutes. She moved down the long hallway and tapped softly on the bedroom door, waiting for the low mumblings of sleep to surface. “Christian?” She eased the door open and peered inside. Slits of light poked through the blinds, casting strips of brightness on the room. The oxford shirt and khaki slacks for the trip hung from a hook outside the closet, loafers and socks resting beneath it. His suitcase stretched open on the floor, socks with socks, shirts with shirts, pants with pants, folded and compartmentalized. Her lips twitched as she thought of the special shoe covers he used to protect his clothing from coming into contact with “the contaminants on his soles.” He’d brought order and love into her life, along with a sense of belonging and simple acceptance, and for that, she would always love him.
“Come on, sleepyhead. Time to get up.”
He lay on his stomach, his head half-buried under a pillow, arms extended, shoulders and back exposed. The rest of his torso was covered with a single sheet. Even in the dimness of the room, she could make out the sleek definition of muscle. She reached over and lifted the pillow from his head. His right hand thudded against the bed, his eyes remained closed, mouth partially open. “Christian?” She shook his shoulder gently, then harder as the iciness of his skin seeped into her hand. She grabbed for his fingers, felt their stiffness. “Christian!” Her scream bounced off the walls in desperate, agonizing pleas, but she knew he couldn’t hear them, knew he would never hear them. Her husband was dead.
Pulling Home is available for purchase at all major retailers
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Copyright 2014 by Mary Campisi
A Family Affair: Summer is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and situations are all products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, locales, or events, are purely coincidental. This e-book is copyright protected. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
About the Author
Mary Campisi writes emotion-packed books about second chances. Whether contemporary romances, women's fiction, or Regency historicals, her books all center on belief in the beauty of that second chance.
Mary should have known she’d become a writer when at age thirteen she began changing the ending to all the books she read. It took several years and a number of jobs, including registered nurse, receptionist in a swanky hair salon, accounts payable clerk, and practice manager in an OB/GYN office, for her to rediscover writing. Enter a mouse-less computer, a floppy disk, and a dream large enough to fill a zip drive. The rest of the story lives on in every book she writes.
When she’s not working on her craft or following the lives of five adult children, Mary’s digging in the dirt with her flowers and herbs, cooking, reading, walking her rescue lab mix, Cooper, or on the perfect day, riding off into the sunset with her very own ‘hero’ husband on his Ultra Limited aka Harley.
Mary has published with Kensington, Carina Press, and The Wild Rose Press.
website: www.marycampisi.com
e-mail: [email protected]
twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/MaryCampisi
blog: http://www.marycampisi.com/blog/
facebook: http://www.facebook.com/marycampisibooks
Other Books by Mary Campisi:
Contemporary Romance:
Truth in Lies Series
Book One: A Family Affair – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Two: A Family Affair: Spring– Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Three: A Family Affair: Summer
Book Four: A Family Affair: Fall– (2014)
Book Five: A Family Affair: Winter - (TBA)
That Second Chance Series
Book One: Pulling Home – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Two: The Way They Were – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Three: Simple Riches – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Four: Paradise Found – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Five: Not Your Everyday Housewife – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Six: The Butterfly Garden – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
The Betrayed Trilogy
Book One: Pieces of You – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Two: Secrets of You – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Three: What’s Left of Her: a novella – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Begin Again: Short stories from the heart – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
The Sweetest Deal – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Regency Historical:
An Unlikely Husband Series
Book One - The Seduction of Sophie Seacrest– Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Two - A Taste of Seduction – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Book Three - A Touch of Seduction, a novella– (Coming 2014)
Book Four - A Scent of Seduction – (Coming 2014)
The Model Wife Series
Book One: The Redemption of Madeline Munrove – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Young Adult:
Pretending Normal – Kindle Nook iTunes Kobo
Table of Contents
A Family Affair: Summer
Dedication:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
The End
Letters to Cash
Bonus Material:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
About the Author
Other Books by Mary Campisi:
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