by Dawn Tomasko
“I was free to express myself, to do what I wanted. No rules, no fights, no criticism. My God, it was liberating. That summer will always be perfect to me. Amazing and wonderful. The only time in my history I felt like me, whoever she was."
The wistful smile on her face faded. "The happiest I've ever been. But I didn't stay. My immaturity didn't allow me to try to make a go of it here. The toolbox was empty. What could you do without your tools, Gabriel? Nothing. So you see, it never occurred to me I could try."
Then her voice came thick, a harsh contrast to the whisper of wind. "So I returned home. The lines were blurred. I didn't know where I ended, and she began. Even though she wanted to purge me out of her life, guilt and shame bound me to her. I needed her permission to breathe."
Gabriel's body stiffened, his hands fisted, coiled to act. Then Sara quieted her voice lowered. "Would I ever be free? All my actions, words I uttered, found disapproval. So I did the only thing I could do. Find a way out."
Sara looked Gabriel in the eyes for the second time since the words started to tumble out. What she saw reflected in his eyes humbled her. Concern, anger, sorrow. "I married David. He'd always liked me in high school, and we were friends, good buddies. No spark, no great love. But he said he cared for me. Someone wanted me, and it seemed a safe way."
A sob snagged in her throat, and she turned back to the horizon, shook the sand loose from her hands in the water. "I convinced myself I could learn to love him, but what the hell did I know about love? All our friends knew he aimed for a military career. At first, he seemed happy with the marriage, plugged in. But over time he sensed I hung back, held onto part of me he could never have. To give the last piece of myself away would leave me too open, too vulnerable. If I let myself love him with my whole heart, he could destroy me. That's why I don’t know if I made the right decision staying behind with Bree. The questions are endless. Was I fair to Brianna and David? Or only looking out for myself? Would Brianna have been happier, closer to her father, if I let her spend more time with him? David and I share the responsibility for the failure of our marriage, but I often think the bulk of the blame is mine."
On the need to move, she walked along the shoreline, now the water lapped at their ankles. Gabriel kept pace by her side. "With David gone often, I took care of everything. If something broke, I taught myself how to fix it. I took care of the car, the house, how to pay bills with too little money, and raising a child on my own for the most part. David's assignments took him all over the world, and if a leak sprung under the kitchen sink, I couldn't pay for a plumber. I learned how to take care of it myself."
Gabriel’s hand linked with hers. “You’re strong, Sara, a lot stronger than you realize. You can’t take responsibility for every single thing that went wrong.”
“It’s my way,” she shrugged. "The only way I know, but here, I’m trying to do it differently.”
Gabriel’s thumb rubbed the back of her damp hand while he waited for her to continue.
“When he came home on leave we were on perpetual holiday. At least, that’s how it had been for him and Bree. For us, the fighting would go all night. He wanted to take some of the responsibility for things, and I balked. Now that I'd become strong and independent, I didn't want it taken away. I didn't want someone in control of my life, my days, so I told him to enjoy our daughter, and family time because he'd be deployed again soon. I rejected him before he could reject me. He resented me for it, said I unmanned him. I'm ashamed to say every time he left, all I felt was relief."
Sara searched Gabriel's face for any trace of disappointment, judgment. She found none. "Last year when Bree graduated high school, David came home on leave. He attended her graduation with me and later that night told me the service discharged him."
"Why?” Gabriel asked, but by the certainty in his voice, Sara wondered, did he already know?
"He has PTSD.”
His eyes closed briefly. "What happened?"
She twisted her fingers together. "There had been too many deployments, too much death. So many teammates, friends, maimed or killed. We went to counseling. David’s nightmares tormented him. He’d wake up screaming. It scared both Bree and I. During the day, he couldn’t control his anger. He tried. I wanted to help him, but he had changed so much. Deteriorated. The counselor explained when someone sees and experiences horrific traumatic events as he did, PTSD can result. Vets often become victims of their experiences. My husband became someone I didn't recognize."
Sara turned to face him, look up into his eyes. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her hand, then rubbed his thumb in slow circles on her skin. "Gabriel, it was awful. Rage filled him. My heart hurts for him. Sudden noises send him into flashbacks. He no longer does things he enjoys, like ride his motorcycle or take Bree to the lake to swim. All his emotions are flat, except for anger."
Gabriel nodded. “I have a friend with PTSD. It’s been very hard on him.”
Sara nodded in agreement. "For the sake of our family, I tried to keep it together. But when things got worse, I ran out of choices and time. We had no practical experience living together in the day to day, in building our relationship. The drinking started. With my family history, my tolerance for excess is zilch. After I told him so, the situation got worse fast. The first time he hit me, I knew it was over. Nothing more I could do."
Gabriel's jaw clenched, the muscles twitched. "The firsttime?” he gritted out between his teeth.
Her head dipped down. Her chin trembled, and she waited for control. "It happened a few times. Brianna witnessed it once. At breakfast, we were in the kitchen, and I accidentally burned his toast. David backhanded me. While she seemed horrified at the time, crying, he apologized profusely, and she forgave him. Bree blames me for not giving her father more help, more love, more time. To her, it's my fault our family fell apart. Until she's ready to listen and understand why I made the choices I did and went to counseling, I have to accept it. God, I miss her."
Long fingers lifted her chin. He grasped her elbows firmly. "You did the right thing by leaving. I can't imagine what you went through, the kind of upheaval it must have brought on once he drank and put his hands on you in a way other than love. Add the sudden blow-ups, too much like your mother's outbursts. It must have been unbearable. Does Bree know any of that?"
Sara’s chin wobbled, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders as she shook her head. "No, I wanted her safe, sheltered from the ugly side of life."
"Ah, Sara. Who the hell sheltered you?"
A sob escaped and she pressed her fingers to her mouth. Completely wrung out, her knees bent and she sank down to the sand. Gabriel came down behind her. His thighs bracketed hers. He used his body to surround her completely. Sara turned to him, leaned into his warmth, and buried her face against his chest.
“Wrap your arms around me, love,” he instructed in a low voice. He rocked them gently. The reassuring murmur of his voice filtered through the numbness in her brain. “Easy, I’ve got you.”
The touch of his fingers on her face, in her hair, down her back, soothed and comforted. At some point in time, more relaxed and unguarded than she could ever remember allowing herself to be, she drifted away.
Bright sun streamed through the bedroom windows, illuminating her room with radiant morning light. A stiff breeze whistled in, and a gull screeched, hovering somewhere outside the window, no doubt in search of breakfast.
Sara's eyes opened, then widened. Gabriel lay next to her. In bed! Her mind raced, searching for reasons to find it wrong, to find a problem with it. She couldn't come up with a single thing.
A thrill blossomed through her at the waves of dark hair on the pillow. Sun bronzed skin contrasted with snow white cotton. The top edge of the sheet rested on his lean waist. He wore a t-shirt and, she imagined, boxers. For some reason, she thought him a boxer kind of man. Feeling a bit naughty, she lifted the sheet just enough to see.
Yep, boxers. With a grin, she let the sheet drop.
Tranquil and soft, she let herself bask in the moment without worry, expectations or fear of repercussion.
Last night, Gabriel gave her a gift. No judgment or criticism. No suggestions on how she should think or act. He listened and let her be, to empty her heart. All the way back from the beach, he carried her, head snuggled on his shoulder, swaying as he walked. Sara remembered him settling her into bed, covering her up. But then he spent the night. It seemed she would notice. She was a light sleeper when she slept at all. But last night, with Gabriel beside her, she slept without interruption.
His face looked handsome in sleep, still rugged, but more relaxed. The roundness of his shoulder, the well-defined biceps, his long fingered calloused hands made her mouth water. While character meant much more to her, she could admit, he was ridiculously good looking and she’d never seen anyone hotter than Gabriel.
He would be an ardent lover, fully engaged in his partner's pleasure. Instinctively, she knew he possessed a sensual, erotic nature. In her secret dreams, both sleeping and waking, Gabriel left no part of her unexplored. More than once, she woke up with sweat-dampened skin, her body throbbing with need, tangled in the bed sheets.
Sara craved his presence, his voice, his body. For the first time in her life, she wanted to let go, to live in the moment. To just. Let. Go.
"Gabriel,” she whispered, to hear his name.
He shifted, turned toward her, his shoulders broad enough to make her aware of her smaller size. Sara turned to face him. For a few moments, his chest rose and fell evenly.
"Gabriel.” Heavy with sleep, his long-lashed eyes opened.
They stared at one another for long moments. Then his fingers came to rest gently on the satiny skin of her shoulder, drifted down her arm to her hand. He held it, rubbed his thumb over the backs of her fingers.
The acceptance of the moment overwhelmed her with its power and grace. Sara smiled at him, and he leaned up on his elbow, his hair sticking up. Serenity flowed through her like a river, broad and deep and slow.
"You stayed with me.” Sara reached up, laid her hand on his whisker-stubbled cheek, let it drift into his hair. Her fingers slid through the dark, silky strands until they rested on the back of his neck.
"I couldn't leave, not after what you told me. I couldn’t leave you alone.” At his words, her eyes stung. When she pulled him down, he came willingly. His lips came to rest on hers, soft and warm from sleep. Then he rested his unshaven cheek on her soft one.
"Best I can do without a toothbrush,” he rasped in her ear.
Laughter bubbled in her throat. "It's perfect, and there's a toothbrush in the bathroom closet you can have."
Gabriel stood at the stove and fried bacon in a cast iron skillet. "Good coffee,” he remarked after he took his first sip. They'd been in the kitchen awhile, yet his voice still held the quality of sleep.
"You're a man of few words in the morning.”
"Mm-hm.” He flipped a piece of bacon with a pair of tongs.
She laughed as she cut fruit at the counter next to the stove. "I like the way you look in my kitchen."
Those dark blue eyes roamed over her, skimmed over her tousled hair, down to her breasts. Could he see how the nipples tightened into pinpoints? After a slow cruise down her bare legs and feet, he brought his gaze back to hers. A smile tugged at his mouth. God, he was sexy. Sara enjoyed this new intimacy between them.
"I like being in your kitchen."
"Kind of novel isn't it?” she asked as she ran a paring knife around a mango.
"What is?” he asked and topped off his coffee.
"No arguing."
Gabriel picked up several slices of bacon and laid them on paper towels to drain. Mischief danced in his eyes. "I can work up an argument if it'll make you happy."
"No, thank you.” Sara smiled, then grew serious. "Even if you did, I'm not sure I could be mad at you right now, for any reason,” she whispered. “I come with a lot of baggage, Gabriel. I dumped it all at your feet and yet here you are.”
Gabriel set the tongs down and turned to face her. Sara placed the knife on the counter, wiped her hands on a dish towel.
He cupped her cheek in his hand. "In spite of everything you’re an upbeat person, even if it doesn't seem like it to you. You raised a daughter, you take care of people, and you’re kind and funny. You're honest, especially about yourself. Brutally so."
Sara’s cheeks heated at his assessment. "I still feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don't know if it will ever change."
"Understandable.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, turned back to tending the bacon. "Thank you, by the way."
"For what?” she asked while goose bumps skittered over her skin. That he accepted her the way she was touched her heart.
"Thanks for trusting me. Not an easy thing to do. Life can be messy and complicated. Sometimes we stuff it all in and keep moving."
"There's more,” she dared to say, her voice held a tone of warning.
"I suspected so. There usually is.” After he had taken a step forward, his hands came to rest on her waist, held her firmly. "Your trust in me, in whatever is happening between us, means a lot. I can't put a name to it."
Her mouth curved. "We don't need to."
With a smile he pulled her into his arms. Lifting her feet clear of the floor, he spun her in a slow circle. "No, we don't. Isn't that a beautiful thing?"
Right before he left to get ready for the workday, Gabriel asked Sara to sit on the sofa with him to talk. A frisson of dread sliced through her, not knowing what he would say. As it turned out, his mother would arrive for a visit on the island Tuesday.
Turned toward her, he leaned his elbows on his knees. "My work week will be light so I can spend time with her. So I won't be here as often while she’s on the island."
Sara shrugged lightly, in an attempt to appear casual. The idea of seeing less of him bothered her, which was unreasonable. Seriously, the man had a right to spend time with his mother. But she liked how things were, the amount of time they spent together, alone. How had they gotten so entangled this quickly? Even more baffling, how did Gabriel become this much a part of her life?
"Of course, Gabriel, whatever you need to do. I'll keep busy painting. With the downstairs walls nearly finished, I’ll need to start on the kitchen cabinets."
"The room came out great, by the way. You should paint for me on other jobs. I mean it,” Gabriel said at her look of disbelief and grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Would you like to meet my mom?” Before she could protest, he pushed on. Sara fought a smile at the earnest look on his face. This was important to him. "She's a good lady, kind, and with a great sense of humor."
“Like you?” she asked.
His big grin warmed her. "The Silvas plan on having us to dinner. I want you to come."
Dinner at her friends’ house would be a low-pressure environment, and being with Charlotte and Gary always made her happy. She felt honored he wanted her to meet his mom, also happy the first time wouldn’t be only the three of them. Not rational, but there went her mind again. Sara took fewer pills these days, but that night, she would need one for added insurance. Meeting his mother would be interesting, but she didn't want nerves to get in the way. It also meant taking their budding relationship to the next level.
In spite of her slight reticence, she didn’t want to hurt him with her insecurities. "Yes, I'd love to meet your mother."
Happy, he gave her a sexy grin.
"Thank you. You’re going to love each other. See you later, baby.” Her belly did a little flip at the endearment. After he cupped his hand on her cheek and gave her a lingering, tender kiss on the mouth, he left the house, whistling all the way.
Sara painted the kitchen cabinets the soft sage green she'd chosen. The wind whipped today, whistled in through the screens. The paint should dry fast.
Music blasted from the Bluetooth speaker, and she enjoyed the room’s transformation from dingy beige to
fresh sage. Still a long way to go, but by bits and pieces, their efforts began to transform the house. Sara had grown fond of it already, with the proximity to the water and its cozy sweetness. When the time came to leave, it would be hard. There were plenty of places she could find on the island, but this house endeared itself to her more than she anticipated.
After she had completed the first coat, the music softened when a call came through. After she wiped her hands on a rag, she headed over to check the display.
David.
After her heart skipped a beat, it shuddered back into rhythm. A bit sick to her stomach, she stared at the phone. "Oh, boy,” she muttered, and grabbed it. After a deep breath, she answered. "Hello,” she said, in her most business-like voice.
"Wow, that’s some greeting."
She reached up to rub at her forehead. "How can I help you, David?"
"What's your deal?"
"What are you talking about?” After drawing in air, she released an audible sigh. "Do you need to speak about Bree? If you don't have anything to say, I’m going to hang up the phone. I'm busy."
"What the hell?” Anger and tension vibrated in his voice. Before it escalated, she wanted to be off the phone. "When I call my wife —"
"Ex, David. Ex-wife! Our only business is our daughter.” Sara walked back to the kitchen to run water over the paintbrush. Color bled from the bristles and swirled in the steel sink. They could dance this dance all day, history repeating itself. "Just spit it out."
"Fine,” he ground out. "Penny and I are remodeling the house. I found a bunch of your stuff. She wants it out."
“Penny?” Another woman slept in her house? If only there was another woman. In the long, dark sleepless nights in the cottage, she swore she heard noises outside. Too much like someone prowling around, trying to get in. David promised he would never let her go, yet now he had another woman? Was he lying, messing with her mind? Or had he moved ahead with his future?
"You have a girlfriend? When will you tell our daughter?” Sara paced the floor, tension coiled in her body.