Sloane Monroe 06-Hush Now Baby

by Bradshaw, Cheryl

  “I don’t want to pain you by bringin’ up a sore subject, so if I’m out of line here, feel free to slug me if you want.”

  “Whatever it is, tell me.”

  “I overheard your conversation with Hannah earlier. Is it true, what you said?”

  “About the babies?”

  He nodded.

  My throat felt tight, like someone had clasped hold of my neck with their husky, fat fingers and squeezed. “Every word.”

  “When my wife took off a few years back, left me, left our daughter, I thought I knew what it meant to suffer. When I look at you, I realize you’ve lost so much more than I ever have.”

  A sister. A father. A mother. A grandfather. A friend. My babies. Bits and pieces of myself along the way. Death was a special kind of desolation I couldn’t seem to escape.

  “You have your cross to bear and I have mine. We all do.”

  “I’m sorry you suffered somethin’ no woman should have to endure. Seein’ you with Shelby, knowin’ how much she admires you. I have no doubt you would have been a wonderful mother.”

  I fisted my hand around the handle of the mug, relocated the rush of emotions pooling inside. If I was blessed with a daughter, she would have been close to Shelby’s age now. “It was a long time ago. When I look back, it doesn’t seem real. It’s like it happened to another woman in another life, a life I wasn’t meant to lead.”

  I set the mug down. Honed in on it. Honed in on the flecks in the carpet—mixtures of black, copper, and gold. I would have focused on anything, as long as it wasn’t him. Expressing myself made me feel vulnerable and weak, even though I’d come to trust him.

  He stretched out his hand, hooked it around mine, his thumb massaging my palm. “I don’t know what happened. The last time I saw you, you seemed fine. After I left, we spoke on the phone a handful of times, but it wasn’t the same. You were different.”

  “Different, how?”

  “Not sure I know the right words, exactly. Quiet and unresponsive, I s’pose. I could tell somethin’ wasn’t right. It still isn’t.”

  “I was fine,” I said. “I’m fine now.”

  Maybe if I kept saying it, one day, I would be.

  “If you don’t want to be here, if I’m pushin’ you by askin’ for your help, you don’t have to stay.”

  I took the case. I accepted it. I was fine. Maybe not completely, but I was coping at least. What more did he want from me?

  “I’m staying.”

  “It’s just—harder to have you here than I thought it would be.”

  The obvious thing for me to ask next was why. There was no need. I knew why. Somehow I thought if I focused on Finn, if I shut up about discussing the likelihood of whether something was happening between us, he would too. I wasn’t dealing with the average guy. This was Cade. The I’m-not-afraid-to-get-right-to-the-point guy. My equal in so many ways.

  “I want to be part of your life, Sloane. But I won’t force you to be part of mine.”

  “I am in your life. I’m right here.”

  His palm was still pressed over mine, his grip tight, obstructing the flow of blood to my hand. I almost pulled away.

  “We’re friends,” he continued. “I thought it would be enough. I convinced myself I could be around you and keep my feelings for you under control. Seein’ you, touchin’ you—I can’t.”

  “Do you want me to go?” I asked.

  “This isn’t about stayin’ or goin’. It’s about me wanting more. I’m askin’ you to open up, to trust me. I don’t know if you want me and you just need more time, or if you don’t and you never will. Either way, I can’t go another day without puttin’ my intentions on the table. I won’t lie to you, and I won’t lie to myself. Wouldn’t be right.”

  “I care for you, Cade. You know I do, don’t you?”

  “Care for me how exactly? As a friend, more than a friend?”

  “Please don’t push me to have this conversation right now,” I said. “I’m not saying we can’t have it, or we won’t have it. I’m just asking you to let it sit, for now. Can you?”

  When he didn’t respond, I did the one thing I was hoping to avoid. I gazed at his face, even though I knew how arduous it would be for me to deny my feelings once I did. There was something about him—something so refreshingly rare, so raw—something I felt the first day we met and had always resisted. It was the exact reason why we were right here, right now, having this conversation. The worst part of all? He knew.

  I speculated Cade had sensed my feelings all along, sensed things I wasn’t even aware I was feeling, things I wouldn’t allow myself to feel. My mind had been blocked, safeguarded by a solid, black blindfold of truth. All I wanted was to be in the moment, this moment. Cade wasn’t the only one who wanted to know my true feelings, I wanted to know. In order to make that discovery, I’d have to strip away the fear, let everything else go.

  Cade rose to his feet, pulling me up with him. He freed my hand, and I felt the blood rush back again. He cupped my face in his hands, smiled down at me.

  “Are you leaving?” I asked.

  “It’s late. I’m tired.”

  “You don’t have to go. Stay. We’ll talk about the case, make a game plan, decide what we’re doing tomorrow. We can do that, can’t we?”

  He entwined his hands around my waist, pulled me close. “I want someone to share my life with—someone by my side. I’m ready, Sloane. You’re not, or you haven’t decided you are, at least. So I’m gonna do what’s right and let you come to me. We can work together, and we can remain friends. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re the woman for me.”

  I stared into his eyes thinking how freeing it must be to shed the layers of insecurity, take risks without the promise of affection being returned.

  Cade bent down, his lips gently brushing across my neck. “Now you know my intentions, what’s in my heart.”

  He let go.

  Left the room.

  Left me standing alone.

  More alone than I’d felt in a really long time.

  CHAPTER 14

  I slept exactly one hour and twenty minutes that night. During the remaining hours, I wrestled the thoughts I had of Cade out of my head and tried concentrating on Hannah, Finn, Jack—anything and everything having to do with the crime. My efforts were admirable, except when I closed my eyes, I saw Cade. When I opened them, I saw Cade. He was the reflection in the window, in the mirror, in my mind—a holographic image flicking off and on like a broken projection machine.

  Finally even my brain reached overload, and Cade was put to the side, if only for a short hour and twenty minutes. He’d have to wait. We had a baby to find.

  A note scribbled in Cade’s handwriting on the door of the refrigerator the next morning let me know he’d gone out for a while. It didn’t say where or when he expected to return. The note was signed with the letter C and a rather crazed-looking smiley face with a peanut-shaped head and one eyeball three times larger than the other one. I took it as a positive sign, hoping he wasn’t too thwarted by my inability to return his feelings the previous night.

  Shelby had already left for school, which meant I had the house to myself. The blissful solitude lasted ten short minutes before the doorbell chimed. I cruised to the bathroom, cringing when I glanced at myself in the mirror. My pixie-cut hairstyle didn’t fare so well pre-shower. With two-inch pieces shooting in every direction, I looked more porcupine than human. My mascara had also smeared, creating an off-putting charcoal affect around my brown, doe-shaped eyes. Perhaps porcupine wasn’t the right word. I looked a bit more Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

  During the brief assessment of myself, the doorbell was pressed two or three more times. Apparently patience was a virtue the person on the outside didn’t possess. I abandoned any inkling of fixing the unfixable and approached the door, sneaking in a quick look-see through the peephole first. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed and was met with an immediate, “Hey! I can see you. Cade? S
helby? Open the door.”

  The woman between myself and several layers of wood had a mass of wavy, caramel-colored locks with random strands of white highlights. The wavy mass framed her face, making it impossible for me to get a good look at her. I guessed she was another relative of Cade’s. The town seemed inundated with members of the McCoy clan in one capacity or another.

  I cracked the door open and peeked out, not wanting to frighten the woman away, not wanting to give the impression I’d allow her inside either. She saw it as an opportunity, applying pressure to the wood with her hand, flinging the door open all the way.

  The woman took in my unkempt appearance, snickered, and said, “What happened to you?”

  Nice opener. It had a “we’ll never be friends” ring to it.

  “Long night,” I said.

  “Who are you, and why are you in Cade’s house? This is Cade’s new house, isn’t it?”

  I detected a hint of an accent in her voice. Southern maybe. The woman was dressed in a spaghetti-strapped tank top and a skirt that was hanging on for dear life. Maybe she’d never heard of safety pins, or a sewing machine, or smaller clothes. Or maybe she was short on money, along with a handful of other virtues like civility and respect.

  It was possible we were the same age, although time hadn’t extended the same kindness to her that it had to me. She had three tattoos, visible ones anyway. A star, a rose, and some cursive words on her inner arm inked in a foreign language. Her unique packaging caught my eye almost as much as the two bags of luggage resting at her feet did. Whoever she was, she’d come prepared for a lengthy stay at Casa de McCoy.

  “Before we get to who I am,” I said, “I’d like to know who you are first.”

  She slouched, flattened a hand over her hip. “Fine by me. I’m a friend of Serena’s. I’m here for her funeral … and whatever else comes of my being here. I got my bags, so I can stay for a while.”

  I got my bags? Poor grammar aside, there was a gleam in her eye when she said it. Her agenda may have started with a plan to attend Serena’s funeral, but it ended somewhere else. I was curious about what it had to do with her choosing Cade’s house to squat at in the meantime.

  “You’re early,” I said. “Serena’s funeral isn’t until the day after tomorrow.”

  “That’s okay. Like I said, I’m here. Maybe for good.”

  The longer our conversation lasted, the more I wanted her to leave.

  “You never gave me your name.”

  “Oh, right. It’s Wendy.”

  “Wendy … ?”

  “Let’s say McCoy for now.”

  Perfect. She was related. Most likely the black sheep of the McCoy family.

  “How do you know Cade?” I asked.

  “You’re in his house, and you don’t know?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”

  “I’m his wife.”

  I pressed a hand against the wall, steadied myself, realizing my assumption of who she was had been way off. After Cade’s confession the night before, seeing the woman he’d been married to for so many years was unexpected. He swore Wendy was gone, out of his life forever, and yet here she was on his doorstep.

  “Wife? Current or ex? From what I gather, Cade doesn’t have a wife. Not anymore.”

  She exhaled enough air to qualify her for a medal in free-range cow tipping. “Legally, well … on paper, I’m his ex. For now. What’s it to you?”

  What was it to me? Good question. Either way, Cade meant a lot to me. She meant nothing. She’d shit all over him and Shelby. If she was back for seconds, she had to go.

  “Does Cade know you’re coming?” I asked. “Does he know you’re here?”

  She mused for a moment, daydreamed, like she’d played out the moment they came together again over and over in her mind.

  “He will soon enough. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  Oh, it was going to be a surprise all right.

  “So you’re what—here to win him back?”

  She clicked her black, pointy boot on the redwood planks a few times before swishing a finger in front of my face in an S pattern. “You know what, I don’t think I like the way you’re talking to me. Just who are you?”

  “My name’s Sloane, and what you like or don’t like doesn’t concern me.”

  “Huh. Never heard of you. So you don’t concern me either.”

  “How could you hear of me?” I asked. “You ditched your family a few years ago. You have no idea what their life is like now. Nor should you.”

  “I have a few friends here. I’ve stayed apprised of Cade’s life.”

  Big word for such an unsophisticated person.

  Show off.

  “What about your daughter’s life? After you abandoned her, did you stay apprised of her life too?”

  She depressed her eyelids into tiny slits. “Don’t act like you know anything about me or my family.”

  Knowing the war of words would continue for an unforeseeable amount of time, I opted out, choosing the path of least resistance. It was early, and I didn’t have my filter on yet. “Cade’s not here. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

  I stepped back, pushed the door forward. She wedged her hand inside, jamming it so it couldn’t close.

  “I’ll wait,” she spat.

  “Not in here, you won’t.”

  “This isn’t your house. You can’t tell me—”

  “It isn’t yours either. Since I’m the one on the inside and you’re not, I get to make the decision.”

  Her finger was twirling in the breeze again. I stared at it, thought about how easy it would be for me to grab the digit, snap it back. It halted in midair when she heard Cade’s Dodge Ram crunch up the drive. The truck came to a halt behind a trio of stately pines. The truck door rocked open and he stepped out, a drink gripped in each hand.

  I stepped outside, and knowing there wasn’t anything more I could do to prevent this moment from happening, I waited for the showdown to begin. Cade glanced at the two of us standing side by side on the porch. He jolted back like someone had zapped his chest with a taser gun. Since her visit was unexpected, I presumed his internal system was going haywire. His face revealed a combination of expired emotions—pain, frustration, anger. I wanted to save him from reopening his healed wounds. I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything except stand there and watch it all unravel.

  Cade’s eyes locked on Wendy, and she seized her moment. “Hi, honey. Long time. It’s good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

  Honey? I wanted to gag.

  One of the drinks toppled from his hand, the lid busting off as liquid sloshed all over the ground.

  Wendy tried taking a step forward. Her misguided plan to launch herself into Cade’s arms was halted when the toe of her boot caught on the front of my foot, and she was thrust to the ground instead. Her knees hit first, scraping along the wood as she went down. She tossed her head toward me, her eyes screaming all the things her lips couldn’t say—not in front of Cade.

  I remained neutral on the outside while internally savoring my perfectly executed sabotage. Wendy used the unfortunate event to her advantage, stretching an arm toward Cade, prompting him to come to her rescue. He walked past her, caught my hand in his as he entered the house, and kicked the door closed, leaving her on the front porch. Alone.

  “Cade, if you need some time with her,” I said, “I can leave for a while, give the two of you a chance to talk.”

  “There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

  “She seems to think there is.”

  “Look, I need you to know somethin’—I don’t know what she said to you before I arrived, but I didn’t invite her here, and I don’t want her here. I didn’t know she was comin’, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Truly, if I had known, if I’d had any idea she—”

  “Cade, it’s okay. I’m fine. Everything’s all right.”

  He inserted the paper cup he was holding into my hand. “H
ere.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Peace offerin’. I wanted to apologize about last night. I got a couple drinks in me and allowed the liquid courage to take over. I knew you weren’t ready. I shouldn’t have pushed. Won’t happen again, I promise.”

  “Cade, you didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t need to—”

  The front door blew open.

  “We need to talk,” Wendy interrupted.

  Cade pointed at the door. “Get. Out.”

  Wendy flashed a snarky glance at me that said “watch this.” She marched up to Cade like she owned him. Her knee was bleeding. Not a lot, just enough to show her fall had inflicted a minor amount of damage. I shouldn’t have been pleased with myself for aiding in her misfortune, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted her gone.

  “I’m not leaving here until I say what I came to say,” Wendy said. “So tell your little friend here to give us some privacy so the two of us can work things out.”

  Cade snatched Wendy’s arm with so much force I thought it might snap off. He escorted her to the door, flung her back outside. “We’re over, Wendy. We’ve been over for a long time. I don’t need you. Shelby doesn’t need you. Don’t you ever come here again.”

  To make his point clear, he grabbed her bags and hurled them off the porch. One of the bags opened, shooting bits of clothing through the air. Wendy stared at Cade in disbelief. It wasn’t what she expected. Wasn’t the reunion she’d drilled into her mind. She gathered her things, shoved them inside a beat-up, two-door coupe, and flipped me the bird all the way out of the driveway.

  Whatever this was and whatever her reasons were for being here—I had the distinct feeling it wasn’t over.

  CHAPTER 15

  I sat with Cade in the parking lot in front of Grand Memorial Hospital. We parked. He didn’t get out. He leaned forward, tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. Unsure of what he might say, I absorbed the quiet. Waited.

  “You haven’t said a word to me since this mornin’,” he said. “If there’s anything you want to talk to me about or ask me, you can.”

  “I know.”