California Wishes

by Casey Dawes

Joe shook his head. “No. It’ll take forever for the kind of board you’ll want.” He pointed his finger at Hunter. “What you need to do is get this business going. The cabinet should fetch a few thousand dollars. You need more like it and you need to get a website going. We’ll take pictures of that,” he gestured into the other room, “and more of the piece in place at Sarah’s.”

  He leaned back and studied Hunter. “How is the divine Miss Sarah these days. Boyfriend ever show back up?”

  Hunter shook his head.

  “Then why the glum look?”

  “He’s been sending stuff — flowers, cards — you know. The kind of thing a man does when he’s desperate. Sarah says it’s over, but I don’t think she’s told him.”

  “So you don’t want to ask her out.”

  Hunter put his hand on the picket fence and rolled his eyes. “She’s pregnant and the father’s still in the picture. She hasn’t told him ‘no’.”

  “Give me a break. Her being pregnant didn’t stop you before.”

  “I didn’t know she was pregnant then.”

  “Well, when she’s done being pregnant, she’s going to have another man’s child running around. Will you ask her out then?”

  Hunter let out a long breath. Trust Joe to get to the heart of the matter. “I don’t know. Feels weird somehow — dating a woman with kids.”

  “After a certain point most of the women you’ll date will have kids from someone else. Unless they’re not planning on being mothers.”

  “You’re probably right, but I don’t think dating Sarah’s in my best interest.”

  “Yet you made that beautiful Victorian hall stand and put it in her entryway.”

  “That I did.” Hunter didn’t want to think about the contrariness of that gesture to his professed disinterest in Sarah. Instead, he threw his empty can in the trash. “Bye, Joe.”

  He whistled as he walked down the sidewalk to his car, avoiding the pink tricycle in his path.

  • • •

  Sarah was in the kitchen when Hunter got back to the inn, a small cardboard box next to her on the table, a yellow legal pad in front of her. Daisy lay at her feet.

  “Another present from Rick?” he asked as he grabbed a beer from the fridge.

  Sarah glared at him.

  As she should have. “Sorry. That was low.”

  “Yep.”

  The silence that sifted through the kitchen was tinged with acrid spice.

  “How about we order pizza for dinner?” Maybe feeding her would get them back to normal. He’d wait for her to tell him if she’d talked to her “ex.”

  She shook her head. “Mom took me out to lunch.” All of a sudden she brightened, her shoulders lifted, and a smile crossing her face. “We went to meet the travel agent. The one with the brochure.”

  He must have looked as blank as he felt.

  She lifted the legal pad and pushed a brochure over to him. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  He was still no clearer than he had been. “What do you mean?” He forced himself to be patient while he searched for Pizza My Heart on his phone. He was having dinner tonight. He bet if he ordered an aromatic pie that he wouldn’t eat alone.

  Cheese, chocolate, and wine. The three food groups that went straight to a woman’s heart.

  “Marketing!” Sarah interrupted his dreams of a thick slab of pepperoni pizza oozing with garlicky cheese. “If we all get together, and get Mandy involved, we can help each other’s businesses. Can’t you see?”

  He set his beer on the table and sat down. “Now, Sarah, you know how I don’t know the first thing about marketing.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Why don’t you explain it to me.”

  She did for the rest of the night. Through his beer and his dinner. She took two good-sized slices.

  So much for not being hungry.

  She was animated for the first time in weeks. He could see the pixie girl who’d met him at the door in January, the one who was determined to make a go of the inn. Her core of strength wrapped in elfin skin compelled attention.

  His heart stirred.

  When she finally ran down, he said, “I think I get it. Now I only have one question left.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s in the box?”

  “Some letters. Love letters, I think. I found the box when I moved in.”

  “Have you read them?”

  She shook her head. “I started to, but it felt like an invasion of someone’s privacy. If I never open them, I’ll never know who they belong to”

  ”Maybe you still won’t know.”

  Unable to bear the tension running through him, he stood and got another beer.

  She flicked him a glance. “Are you okay?”

  ”I’m fine.” He leaned against the counter. Would the letters have something to do with his parents or were they left by the people who owned the house after them? He popped the can and took a swallow. “Why don’t you go ahead. Since I lived here before, I can help you figure it out.”

  “Okay.” Carefully, she opened the box and took out a packet of envelopes tied with ribbon. She slipped the ribbon off the edges. She flipped through them, scanning the postmarks.

  “I think this is the first one, the letter I started reading a week ago.” Opening the sheet of paper, she quickly scanned it and looked up.

  “Go ahead and read it.” He took another swallow of beer.

  “Loretta,” she began.

  Loretta. His mother’s name.

  Sarah’s eyes met his.

  He unclenched his teeth. “Go on.”

  She continued.

  “I know what is happening between us is wrong, but I can’t help myself. The thought of you tied to that liar another second makes me sick. You deserve better. So does the boy.”

  Hunter drew in a breath. The sounds of his childhood home resurfaced in his memory. Raised voices. Broken dishes.

  He moved a little closer to the back door and his eyes scanned the room for danger to him or Sarah.

  “You aren’t okay. Maybe I should stop.” Sarah’s voice broke through to him.

  He took a couple of steadying breaths and focused on her. “Sorry. Old memories.”

  Memories I don’t want to resurrect.

  He forced himself to walk to the table and sit down. “Why don’t you finish?”

  Sarah hesitated a moment, studying him intently. “Okay.”

  He gazed at the table top.

  “I love you, Loretta. I know it will be difficult, but I can protect you from him. Let me shower you with the affection you deserve. I’ll dig you a big space to plant with your heart’s delight and we’ll travel to explore all the great gardens of the world. Please think on it. Love, Richard.”

  Richard. The name of his mother’s lover.

  The room was closing in on him. He could barely breathe. “Gertrude told me Richard was her brother.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Hunter gestured at the letter. “Loretta was my mother. Your gardener remembered the affair.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Killed in a car accident.”

  “Sounds like growing up must have been difficult.” She reached out her hand, but he ignored it, pushed back his chair, and stood.

  “It wasn’t pretty. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.” Her voice interrupted him before he could leave the room.

  “Hunter?”

  He stared at her, his muscles tense.

  “I called him.”

  It took Hunter a moment to realize she was talking about Rick. “Okay.” Hunter stomped up the stairs, closed the door behind him, leaned
against it, and let tears of sorrow and missed opportunities roll down his face.

  Although he had trouble getting to sleep, his rest had been dreamless and refreshing. The next morning Daisy greeted him, tail wagging, outside his door. “How you doing this morning, girl?” He smiled and patted the dog, contentment filling every vein in his body. He’d faced a childhood demon and survived. There was hope for resolving his past.

  Sarah had called Rick and the future looked bright as well.

  Letting Daisy proceed him down the stairs, he said, “Anyone let you out?”

  “I did.” Sarah stood at the bottom of the stairs, the glow of pregnancy in her cheeks, and a look of concern in her eyes. “How are you doing this morning?”

  He smiled at her and fought the impulse to kiss her. “I’m doing well.” Then he quit resisting. Putting his index finger under her chin, he tilted up her face and brushed her lips with his. “Just as I remembered,” he whispered.

  Easily, he moved back and asked, “Coffee?”

  A soft smile on her face told her she hadn’t disapproved of his move.

  “Already made.” She trailed him into the kitchen where Daisy curled up on her dog bed. He noticed the letters had been put back in the box.

  After he poured his coffee he gestured toward the box. “Did you read them?”

  She blushed. “All the way through. So sad.”

  “Tell me.”

  She sat down at the kitchen table. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  He nodded and sat down next to her. “Please.”

  “From what I can piece together, Loretta’s husband, your dad, made her life pretty miserable. He had lovers on the side, drank a little too much, and some of his business practices were questionable, which made her life difficult in the community. He stopped short of physical abuse, but it didn’t sound like life was good. I just don’t understand why she didn’t leave. Richard sounds like he was head over heels in love with her.”

  “Me.” Hunter took a sip of his coffee.

  Gertrude’s garden truck roared through the silence. Daisy raised her head, thumped her tail once, and went back to sleep.

  “What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

  “He threatened to take me away from her. He may have been a crooked lawyer, but he was effective. My mother wouldn’t have stood a chance and she knew it. She stayed in that miserable excuse of a marriage to protect me.”

  “It’s what mothers do.” Sarah reached out her hand and this time Hunter took it.

  Her skin was amazingly soft. He rubbed his hardened thumb over it, the urge to protect her from the kind of pain his mother had suffered growing with each passing moment.

  “Mandy coming home for dinner?” he asked.

  Sarah shook her head.

  “Then let me take you out. There’s a fish place in Moss Landing I’d like to go back to — need to go back to.”

  She cocked her head and waited.

  He took a deep breath. “After I came back from the war, I had panic attacks due to PTSD. Doc thinks the craziness of my childhood left me susceptible. He gave me some tools, but some places still get me going.”

  He smiled at her. “Since I’ve been around you, though, the attacks have been happening less and less. I figure if I take you to Phil’s with me, I’ll be able to enjoy my fish instead of being afraid it would turn into a shark.”

  She chuckled. “I’m game. What do we do with the letters? Do you want to give them back to your mother?”

  He shook his head.”That would only make her sadder.” He gestured to the garden. “Let’s see if Gertrude wants them. Have you seen what she’s done to the garden since you’ve been up and around?”

  “No, it slipped my mind.”

  Hunter stood and held out his hand. “Come to the garden, my lady.”

  Sarah chuckled. Her laugh seeped into the hard stone of his emotional wounds and broke them apart as inexorably as water on rock.

  She breathed in deeply when they walked outside. “I can smell spring bursting through the ground, can’t you?”

  His grin broadened and he nodded. They reached the entry to the garden bower and Hunter stood aside to let her enter first.

  Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes widened in wonder. “It’s amazing!”

  Gertrude had carved enchantment from the overgrown remains of his mother’s beginnings. Bright foliage and grasses peaked from behind flowering bushes. Bare patches hinted of future annuals. Branches entwined overhead, perfect to keep away the summer’s heat.

  “I’m glad you like it. I’m almost done and then I’ll start on the kitchen garden. I’m sure Mandy will be glad to hear that.” Gertrude had quietly walked up behind them.

  Sarah turned. “Has she been bothering you?”

  Gertrude gave as much of a smile as she ever did. “No. She’s eager. Patience comes with gray hair.”

  “Gertrude.” Hunter hesitated to ask, but he wanted that box — and its memories — gone. “We found a box of letters in the house that Richard wrote my mother. Do you want them?”

  “No,” Gertrude said immediately. “They’re not for me. Give them to your mother.”

  “I’m not going to do that. She’s dying and doesn’t need painful memories.”

  “Memories are all she has. Besides, it’s not your decision to make.”

  “Of course it is.” Gertrude squared herself and pointed her finger at him. “It is not your decision. Why do men always think a woman is too fragile to make a choice? You may not approve of how your mother ran her life, but she still has the right to do it. Take the box to her. It is hers. Now leave me to finish the garden.”

  Gertrude picked up the handles of the garden cart and wheeled it to the back reaches of the arbor.

  Sarah laughed. “Guess she told you.”

  He scowled at her. “Right.”

  “Oh, c’mon Hunter, lighten up. You’ll choose what’s best. But, if you care, I think she’s right.”

  “You would.” He slung his arm around her, pulled her close, and kissed the top of her head. “It’s a great day to be alive, isn’t it?”

  She smiled up at him. “Sure is.”

  He lowered his head and took her soft lips with his, turning so he could deepen the kiss. All his senses concentrated on the taste and texture of her mouth beneath his and her response to his demands. He scanned for any moment of hesitation, but found none.

  The phone in her pocket rang and broke off their kiss.

  She glanced at the display and looked up at him.

  He couldn’t read the expression on her face.

  She answered the phone. “Rick, I told you we’re through. Stop calling here!”

  Rick. Obviously, she hadn’t broken it off.

  Hunter stormed back to the inn, leaving Sarah to end her call on her own.

  Chapter 22

  Sarah slammed her phone shut. Men! They simply couldn’t hear what a woman had to say!

  She strode back to the inn and opened the door. “Hunter!” Her yell echoed through the house.

  He came out of the kitchen, coffee in his hand. “You don’t have to yell.”

  “Kitchen. Now. We need to talk.” She pointed.

  He glowered at her.

  “Now,” she repeated.

  After they settled themselves on either side of the kitchen table, Daisy whined and lay down between their feet.

  “What are you so damn mad at?” Hunter asked.

  “You’re the one who went storming off.”

  “I gave you space to talk to your … your … Rick. I thought he was out of the picture.”

  “He is. I left him a message yesterday and told him we were through.”

  Hunter groaned. “You don’t leave a message sa
ying you’re breaking up.”

  “You do if the guy never answers his phone.” Sarah stood and put the kettle on. She leaned against the counter while she waited for it to boil. “The problem is you didn’t trust me.”

  “How could I when the guy’s on the phone?”

  “You’ve known me for months. Have I ever lied to you?” The steaming water began to hiss.

  “How about when you ‘forgot’ to mention you were pregnant?” Hunter smirked at her.

  Shit. He would have to remember that. “I didn’t know you that well then. Besides, I bet there are things you aren’t telling me, either.”

  His smirk disappeared. Bingo!

  She sat back down with her tea. “This conversation really does call for a bottle of wine, but that’s not happening, so we’ll need a reward when we’re done.” The baby kicked her stomach and all of a sudden going to a place redolent with the smell of fish didn’t sound appealing. “How about Chinese instead of fish?”

  “We just had Chinese,” Hunter complained. “Done with what?” He was back to scowling.

  “I’m pregnant. I’m craving Chinese. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

  He was still glaring at her.

  Men could be so damn difficult. But if there was any hope for the two of them, everything needed to be out in the open. Her mother and Annie had tried to teach her that.

  Now she could see why it was important.

  “I’ll tell you my entire history with Rick and you tell me whatever you’re keeping quiet about.”

  He took a long sip of his coffee and drummed his fingers on the table.

  She waited him out, using the time to examine his strong-boned face and deep-set eyes.

  He drummed.

  She stared.

  Finally, he stood and put the empty cup on the counter.

  Was he going to leave? Damn. She thought he had more backbone than that.

  He opened the fridge, poured a glass of orange juice, and sat down. “Okay.”

  “You first,” she said.

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “Sure you weren’t studying to be a lawyer?”

  She had to bite her tongue to keep from talking.

  He let out a long breath of air. “Okay. You win.” He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “You already know all there is to know about my parents except why I went into the service. I was twenty, home from college when I found something that indicated my dad was up to his old crooked tricks. I confronted him with the evidence. He laughed and told me I’d be cheating, too, when I got my law degree.” Hunter leaned forward. “That was the life he’d planned out for me — follow in his wretched footsteps. I just couldn’t do it. I enlisted the next day.”