by Dawn Tomasko
"I'm only looking out for you and the family."
Michael's eyes glittered dangerously as he prowled toward his brother. "The hell you are. You’re a sanctimonious son of a bitch. I don't need you looking out for me. You got her drunk, used her and tossed her aside. Now while you’re playing carpenter out on a godforsaken island, I’m the one taking care of the family."
They were wading into dangerous waters. Determined not to do this in front of their father, Gabriel stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Right. Whatever you say."
Michael came at Gabriel but before he had a chance to take a swing at his brother, Nathaniel's voice stopped him cold. "Michael."
His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he glared at Gabriel. "Dad—"
"Put a hand on your brother and there'll be hell to pay. You will not do this in my house."
Jaw clenched, Michael kept his eyes pinned on his father, lying in bed. "This isn't over,” He hissed at his brother.
"Not by a long shot,” Gabriel promised and quit the room before he gave in to the urge to kick his little brother's ass.
Brianna loved Charlotte and Gary, and the feelings were entirely mutual. Charlotte was Brianna’s godmother. Sara and Bree made their way across the deck. Charlotte shot out of the kitchen door with Gary close behind and threw her arms around her daughter.
"Aunt Charlotte! Uncle Gary!” Bree beamed at them. "I missed you! Let me see the belly.” Her hand went to Charlotte's sundress.
"Here,” Charlotte grinned, pressed Bree's hand to her tiny baby bump.
"Oh, how sweet,” Bree kissed her cheek. "This is going to be fantastic."
"I know, and I can't wait to see Auntie Bree do her stuff. Come in, both of you,” she urged. "We did a casserole because we want to spend all our time with you and not fuss in the kitchen."
"Come here, little girl,” Gary ordered, grabbed her by the waist, swung her around as he did when she was little. She laughed, reminding Sara how young she still was. Hand in hand they walked into the kitchen, with Bree chattering all the way.
Charlotte took one look back at Sara and saw the writing on the wall. After a soft sigh, she shook her head. Charlotte linked arms with her friend, leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Come on in, love.”
The happiness of seeing her daughter smiling and at ease did little to alleviate the pinch in her heart. "That's the most emotion I've seen from her since she got off the plane.”
"Don’t lose heart, sweetie, be strong."
"I am. Since the minute she landed, she's been a pain in the ass. I'm royally pissed off, and you know what? It helps."
Charlotte gave her a high five, her bracelets jangling. "That's my girl."
Dinner and dessert, conversation and laughter all made for an enjoyable time. Brianna shared stories of college life. The campus, the number of friends she’d made and details about the progress of her classes. Her daughter shared the news she was dating a young man from Pennsylvania pursuing a legal career. A perpetual smile dimpled her cheeks, and a flush of excitement brightened her face.
Except, of course, if Bree chanced to look at her mother or spoke to her. The joy would fade from her face, the smile faltering, and the firm set of her jaw meant the drought hadn't ended. Charlotte and Gary would jump in to smooth the way, but everyone recognized the white elephant in the room.
The difference, Sara realized, was in herself. The island, distance, the work on the house, and most of all, her time with Gabriel, turned the tide. No longer content to let Bree run the show, or wait her out, strengthened her, put her on more solid ground. Like she’d known it would, Nantucket and her life here brought about the changes she’d been seeking.
When Charlotte began to snooze on Gary’s shoulder, Sara and Bree decided to leave. The tomb-like silence in the car on the way homemade her wonder if their fun evening ever happened at all.
Once at home, Sara turned to lock the back door. One could live here and never secure their doors, but on orders from Gabriel, the front stayed secured until the porch was safe for use. Gabriel even placed a board across the door, explained to her that habit might have her open the door and fall out and get hurt. Locking the back soothed Sara’s mind, still unconvinced because of David’s threats.
"It was a fun night, Bree, but I'm off to bed. See you in the morning."
Sara walked toward the stairs, aware that her daughter stood stock still in the middle of the living room. A backward glance at her daughter's face showed Bree's surprised expression. Evidently, she expected more groveling. She’d be disappointed.
"Let me know if you need anything.” After a yawn, she started up the stairs. "Goodnight."
Up in the bathroom, Sara washed her face and brushed her teeth. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. From her time outdoors, the sun kissed her skin with early summer color and lightly streaked her hair. Before she left Connecticut, the mirror showed a stressed out, pale, exhausted woman on the edge. The lines around her eyes used to bother her.
This reflection showed a woman in good health, more relaxed and at ease. While a solid eight-hour stretch of sleep still eluded her, Sara found she liked the changes in herself.
Once in her room, she ran the hairbrush through her hair, slipped on a cotton nightgown and climbed into bed. Not long after, the stairs creaked as Brianna made her way up for the night.
Early the next morning, Brianna sat at the kitchen table with her laptop when Sara came downstairs. Bree wore a pair of blue cotton sleep boxers and a matching tank. Her left leg bent and tucked under her, as per usual, and she’d pulled her long hair up in a high ponytail.
"Coffee's hot,” she said absently.
"Great, thanks.” She filled her mug, eyeing Bree to gauge her mood. "Want breakfast?"
Bree twisted her long hair around her finger, a habit since childhood. "Thinking about it. I'm checking out the website for the place in France where we'll be staying. Do you want to see?” she swiveled the computer in Sara's direction.
"Of course. Good God, look at that place.” A couple of clicks later, the bedroom suites came up. Sara looked at her daughter’s shiny clean face. "All I can say is wow."
Bree smiled, the first real one she offered her mother. "Right? Cool.” Sara noticed her daughter’s manicure, a soft blue with ‘ACK’ on each nail on the ring fingers. So she hadn’t lost her love of the island. “The house is charming, Mom. You're staying the whole six months?"
Sara leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. "Definitely. Living here is good for me, and I'm happy on the island."
"You always were, but I can see a difference in you,” she offered tentatively. "Dad's doing the house over."
"Yes, he told me. He should, don't you think? This way, he and Penny can make it their own.” Although it pained her to think of the seasons she’d spent developing the yard.
Bree hadn’t seen that coming and frowned deeply. "You're happy for him?"
"Brianna, I don't want your dad to be miserable. We spent a lot of years together, and we share a child. Our marriage didn't work out, but we might find a way to be friends.” Or at least, find a way for me to stop thinking he would show up any minute.
"That's a surprise,” she muttered, her fingers tapped the table.
Sara nodded. "Why should it be?"
"What will you do now?” she asked offhandedly, as she turned back to her laptop to browse the website.
"Work on the house. Once the cottage is farther along, I want to get into landscaping. I'm taking classes online for landscape design.”
"Penelope made Dad rip out all your plants,” Brianna told her, arms crossed, her chin up. "They put bushes in."
As Brianna intended, the arrow hit its mark. While she didn't blame Penelope for erasing what might remind David of her, it cut all the same. She'd spent years in the yard, and in her humble opinion, the cottage style garden could have been featured in a home gardening magazine.
All my beloved plants, hundreds of them. Phlox, brown-eyed Sus
an's, lavender, lilies, Old English roses, giant alliums, Scottish Thistle, spring bulbs. Hours of weeding, deadheading, watering, mulching. Countless trips to garden centers, flower farms, and specialty growers to fulfill her vision.
With effort, she swallowed past the knot in her throat. "To each his own,” she said, but even to her ears, her voice sounded shattered.
Bree stared at the computer and typed away. "What will you do when the work on the cottage over? The house isn't yours. Aunt Charlotte set this up, so it's going up for sale eventually, right?"
Sara flushed. The conversation started off well enough but took an unpleasant turn. Why did Bree feel the need to do it? "Yes, but I want to stay on the island. Maybe not this house, but somewhere. Charlotte can find me a place to live once the lease is up."
Brianna gasped at her. "Live here? As in permanently? You have got to be kidding."
"Why?” Sara brought her chin up. "You know what the island means to me."
Bree threw her hands up. "What about Connecticut? What about your nursing career? Being near me?"
"You're in Massachusetts for three more years. That is near you. We don't know where you'll work when you graduate. For the line of work you're after, you may have to travel a great deal. Nursing started out great, but I burned out. If you understand your Dad needs to make a new life for himself, can’t you know I need to also?"
“You’re a mother,” Brianna pushed away from the table, stalked into the living room.
“Which means what, exactly? I’m only good for growing old alone with a houseful of cats?” She stood, stalked over to her daughter. "You’re a big girl now, and I am here for you, but I do not understand your expectations. Why are you so angry with me?"
"Because you screwed up!” Brianna's turned on her, voice risen to a near scream. "You messed everything up. My whole life changed because you left him."
Furious with Bree's immaturity, David's cowardice and herself, she snapped. "Brianna, he's suffering from PTSD. He's a casualty of war. It’s a tragedy, but he can get help. I tried my best, but once he started to drink and hit me, I knew I couldn't stay."
"What are you saying?” Her daughter's chin wobbled, and Sara nearly caved. "It only happened once."
Sara shook her head. "No, and I never told you it was only once. Is that what David said or what you choose to remember? I'm sorry for your Dad, and will always care about him. Ask him what happened and don't let up until he comes clean. For the record, it takes two, Bree. You know me better than this. In the career path, you’re on, you have to dig for the truth. Go home and do it. If and when you want to talk to me about this, let me know. Until then, I'm finished with this endless cycle of blame. Frankly, you’re giving me whiplash."
Sara hauled her purse off the table, nearly snapping the shoulder strap and slammed out of the house. To burn off some of the fury and pain, she stalked down the road, a cloud of dirt blowing up behind her. Then broke into a full run. Pure adrenaline took her far, but when she finally stopped, she leaned over, a sharp pain biting her side. With labored breathing, she pressed her palm into her ribs and kept walking.
Hours later, when she returned home, Brianna was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Michael asked the family to gather in the family room before dinner. Gabriel sat stiffly in an easy chair, his fingers tightly gripping the arms. The confrontation couldn't be healthy for his father's health right now and he sure as hell wasn't in the mood for it, either.
Nicole sat next to his mother on the love seat. They settled Nathaniel on the long sofa. Toni draped a warm blanket over his legs and tucked it in around him in spite of the temperature, and his protests. At least, his cranky attitude toned down a bit, largely because of Gabriel's unending vigilance.
Gabriel's gaze strayed to Nicole. Her long blond hair lay in glossy waves over her shoulders, her expensive pink suit fit like a second skin. Needle-heeled shoes graced her slim feet, the type with the toe box so pointed he didn't know how women stood it. Since they'd once been friends, he once asked her about it. Fashion, she'd explained, made it worth the pain.
Michael leaned a shoulder on the mantle, a brandy snifter in his hand, for all purposes straight from a page of GQ. The family tension crackled in the air, but whatever his brother felt hid behind a smooth mask. Gabriel wanted to break the façade and pound some sense into him.
"Thank you for coming. Nicole and I have an announcement."
No. Gabriel braced himself. Don’t let this be what I think it is. A serene smile hovered over Nic's mouth. The overblown collagen injected lips from which filthy lies spilled soured his stomach.
"Mom, Dad, Gabe. I've asked Nicole to be my wife, and I’m proud to say she accepted my proposal."
Nicole leaped up, wrapped herself around Michael and bounced on her mile-high shoes. Turning to his parents, she rushed over to hold out her hand. A huge marquis diamond winked on her finger.
"Congratulations,” his mother told them in a conservative voice. "The ring is stunning, Nicole.” Toni tossed a worried glance in Gabriel's direction. "We wish you all the best."
With an air of superiority, Michael sneered at Gabriel. Sucker punched. Concerned, he watched his dad carefully. Lines etched his face, and he leaned his head back on the pillows.
"Dad?” he strode to the sofa, perched on the edge. "You all right?"
Nathaniel waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm all right, Gabriel."
"Dad, I hope it wasn't bad timing, with your recuperation,” Michael told him. "Nicole and I have waited for a long time. It’s rare these days for the family to be together. No time like the present, right sweetheart?"
Nicole wouldn't meet Gabriel's eyes. The awkward tension so thick it suffocated, Michael wisely took his cue and picked up a wrap to place it on her shoulders.
"We'll see you all later,” Michael began, "We're going out to dinner to celebrate."
For some time, Gabriel and his parents sat in stunned silence in the family room. Toni seemed unusually agitated, her hands twisted together in her lap, her familiar smile now twisted into a grimace.
"Michael didn't ask for a family ring,” she remarked in a confused whisper.
"Of course not, Toni. He might be blind where she's concerned, but at least, he knows better than to ask for a family heirloom, given the circumstances. My mother's ring is reserved for Gabriel’s wife in any case."
Jolted, Gabriel thought about the ring. Should he take it back to the island with him and have it refashioned for Sara? Would he and Sara ever get to the point where he offered her his grandmother's ring in engagement? Would she ever want to remarry? One thing Gabriel did know. If he asked her to marry him, he wanted to give her that ring.
An hour later, sprawled on his back in bed in boxers and a t-shirt, Gabriel pressed mute on the remote control. What a nightmare.
His brother sealed his fate. If Nicole did love Michael, Gabe would find a way to tolerate the situation, if for no other reason than to make peace. He couldn't picture it as anything but odd, both now and in the future.
But his gut told him one thing. He knew her kind far too well. Nicole would ruin his brother. Through the walls of his room, he heard them going at it every night, and he couldn't tolerate it much longer. Michael must be doing it on purpose. Nic's dramatic caterwauling made him ill. His cell rang, and he grabbed it from the bedside table. Sara. Mind and heart full and churning with the night's events, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. With his mood this sour, Gabe didn’t feel like talking. Life, as he knew it with his family, was perversely twisted, and it resounded in his heart and body. After a moment's hesitation, he answered.
"Hey."
"Gabriel? Hi. Are you okay? You don't sound like yourself."
Eyes closed, he groaned. Heart heavy and mind numb, he couldn't muster his usual enthusiasm. "No, I’m not okay. Not at all. My dad's all right, but the family, it’s a mess."
"What's going on?” she asked, her concern knifed him in the temple.
Slowly, he dragged in a breath and blew it out. "Michael and Nicole announced their engagement tonight."
A long silence followed. "Oh, no."
"Oh, yeah. Pretty messed up. The whole situation's so damn awkward. I want to climb the walls. It's all I can do not to smash my brother's face in. Right now I don't want to leave my parents alone, not with this shit going on.” A vein throbbed in his forehead. His voice reflected the bitterness eating at him.
"Of course,” she said, her voice soft and bewildered. "Come back when you can. No pressure. I called to see how you were doing. See if I could help, if you wanted to talk.” Gabriel knew she needed more from him, but he didn't have it to give right now. Worry over his father's health, his mother and the strain of dealing with his brother and soon to be wife left him hollowed out and brittle. Shutting her out was the wrong choice, but Gabe found it too much at the moment.
"I'm here if you need to talk it through."
"Thanks. Look, I have to go, okay? Call you soon,” he said, squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he hurt her, and couldn't seem to do a damned thing about it. Restless in his skin, he wanted to throw a fist into the wall. He disconnected the call without waiting for her answer.
Much later, he realized he never asked about Brianna's visit.
Sara sat on the sand, wrapped in a warm blanket as the damp night brought in a dense fog. The house, so empty, stood some distance behind her. A single light shone in the window as if someone waited there, but no one did. Not Brianna. Not Gabriel.
With no moon, she couldn't see the ocean, as the surf rolled up, rushed back, and the waves built in the darkness. The roar and crash rumbled the sand beneath her.
She'd come to live on Nantucket to be alone. She’d achieved her goal. Now, it hit her just how much Gabriel meant to her. How he filled her days with laughter, companionship and passion. He'd been there for her, in countless ways, but when she could have helped him, he'd shut her out completely.