by Lucy Farago
*
What in the hell had he done? He looked over at the now sleeping Shannon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d connected that intimately with someone, that feeling of never wanting it to end because when it did you knew you’d never be the same.
That was a lie. He did remember, and it was thirteen years ago, the one and only other time he and Shannon had made love.
At seventeen he’d brushed it away to his getting laid, to losing his virginity. Or he’d been so busy protecting his heart, he’d refused to believe it was anything but. Sex couldn’t have been that good or that way with other women. It was a one-time thing—your first. He’d been wrong. Just as wrong as last night. He’d wanted to mark her, for her to know what she’d be leaving behind. Instead it wasn’t his name he’d be leaving on her lips but yet another piece of his heart in the palm of her hands. He was royally screwed.
Maybe he should leave, not be here when she woke up. Would she be mad or grateful? But he wasn’t the type of guy to sleep with a woman and disappear. And he didn’t want the morning after to be awkward for either of them. So he slipped out of bed, put on his jeans and sweater, and went downstairs. He followed the aroma of coffee into the kitchen, where he opened cupboards until he found the right one. He grabbed two cups and wondered if the boys had a breakfast tray.
“Good mornin’, Noah. Did you sleep well?”
“Leave him alone, Josh.”
“Hello, boys.” He turned to see Eldon shaking his head at Josh and Josh sporting a knowing grin.
“No, no, no. It’s good morning,” Josh said.
“Yeah, I get it. I spent the night. Ha, ha.”
“Grow up, will you? Ignore Josh. Noah, is there anything I can get you? Are you looking for something?”
“A tray? Would you have one of those?”
“Ooh, like breakfast in bed? That’s so sweet. How come I never get breakfast in bed?” he asked Eldon.
“Because if you’re not wearing a bib, you spill. Bottom drawer to your right.” He motioned with his hand.
“I do not,” Josh whined.
“I still can’t get the tomato sauce stain out of your white shirt. Now make yourself useful and cut some fruit. Nothing says great sex like sexy fruit. Here, let me.” Eldon took the tray from Noah and proceeded to fill it with all kinds of things.
By the time he got upstairs he not only had enough for breakfast but lunch too. Looking down at the tray, he had to wonder if that had been Eldon’s intention. Shannon’s flight wasn’t until six. What were the odds he could convince her to stay in bed with him?
When he opened the door Shannon was dressed in a fluffy white robe and sitting on the bed. He didn’t fail to notice the relief she quickly hid after seeing him. She’d assumed he’d left.
“Good morning,” he said, bringing her the food Eldon had prepared.
“What’s this?”
“Breakfast.” He set the tray on the empty spot beside her.
“Lunch and quite possibly dinner too.” She picked up a strawberry and popped it into her mouth.
“We might not ever have to leave this room.” Wishful thinking on his part?
“Would that mean I didn’t have to go to the funeral? You want one?” She picked up a wedge of cantaloupe and shoved it in his open mouth.
“I forgot,” he said after chewing the fruit. “Where is it?”
“At the cemetery.” She twirled a grape between her index finger and thumb. “Turns out JJ actually owned a plot. Go figure. Knowing him, he probably figured he could flip it for a profit.”
“You want me to go with you?” He would, if that was what she wanted.
“No,” she said, returning the grape to the bowl. “I’m going to arrive late and tell them I got the times wrong. I’m assuming I don’t have to wear a wire?”
He thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think so. You don’t plan on staying long, right?”
“Not if I can help it.” She got up and headed for the bathroom. “I’m going to get ready to go.” And with that she disappeared to shower.
So much for awkward morning-afters.
Chapter Thirteen
It wasn’t difficult for Shannon to fake being upset. She didn’t want to be there, and even though she’d arrived late, Molly and Luther had waited for her, much to the chagrin of the minister. What the hell had they been thinking? A minister? Every poor soul in a grave had turned over. Grateful that the man had never met JJ, she smiled congenially and thanked him when it was over. The poor guy wouldn’t know what a sin he’d committed by saying the kind words he’d said over her father’s ashes.
Molly and Luther, whose bright idea this had been, couldn’t wait to get out of there and she was never more thankful to be rid of them. Before going, they’d handed her a scrap of paper while they babbled about cousins in the business. She’d shoved it in the pocket of the black trench coat Josh had lent her as she tried to decipher what it was they were going on about. Luther would start a sentence and Molly would finish it, so it was difficult to follow. But as she understood it, the paper had the name of JJ’s lawyer. Ignorantly thinking JJ had willed them the house, the pair had made plans to sell it. Surprise, surprise: Not only was it not theirs to sell but it sounded like a second woman had been as naïve as her mother and married the pathetic excuse for a human being. One Cecelia Lewis. But what shocked her more was learning her parents had divorced. Frankly, she wouldn’t be surprised if either her mom didn’t know or JJ had committed bigamy.
Now alone, surrounded by the markers of those who truly deserved to be remembered, she glanced up at the dreary sky. It had rained early this morning and would do so again. First waking up to her colossal, albeit best-sex-of-her-life mistake with Noah, then enduring this ridiculous ceremony, of course the weather would be crappy. So if anyone were so inclined as to listen in on her thoughts, she’d promise a week of no cursing if the rain held off for a little longer. There was one thing she wanted to do before heading back … to Mr. P.
The cemetery wasn’t far from the quarry, within walking distance. On those nights when a six-pack hadn’t been enough to keep kids amused, the townspeople of Tweedsmuir would find themselves cleaning up beer cans around whatever grave the bored teenagers had chosen to pay homage to by holding their own Irish wake. In her recollection, no one had ever been disrespectful, although the adults disagreed. She and Maggie never participated, more out of fearing the wrath of Maggie’s father than anything else. The man barely said two words to Shannon, but there was no mistaking his animosity. She’d chosen not to incur his wrath and kept her best friend off that meganaughty list. So, unlike most everyone in Tweedsmuir, Shannon had only ever been here once before, on one of the worst days of her life: Mr. P’s funeral.
Having forgotten exactly where it was, she talked to the groundskeeper and followed his directions along the path through the small cemetery when she spotted the headstone, and it started to pour. Did the universe hate her that much? She’d just opened her umbrella when she heard her name. It would seem the universe did indeed hate her that much.
Suddenly chilled, Shannon stuck her free hand in the coat’s pocket as she turned, squinting to see through the haze of rain. A woman stood some twenty feet away. She too held an umbrella. “Mom?” Holy shit.
“Hi.” Her mother took one cautious step forward and then another.
For her part, Shannon refrained from stepping back. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her, but there was no denying the resentment she felt toward the woman. As a kid she hadn’t understood mental illness, only that her mother chose JJ over her. Why on some level could she not see what the man was doing to her daughter? She’d been medicated, not stupid. And because of her, Shannon had done things that had scarred her for life.
Before she knew it, her mother stood in front of her. Was she expecting a happy reunion? She hadn’t planned on dealing with this yet, although at some point it was inevitable. Should she hug her or what? Her mother made the
decision for her, stepping forward and wrapping her free arm around Shannon. Hesitantly, she hugged her back.
Then Shannon remembered where they were. She put on a straight face, tamping down old resentments. The woman hadn’t come to see her but JJ. Even in the bastard’s death things weren’t different. She told herself it didn’t matter. This woman simply didn’t know any better.
She released her mother. “How did you know his funeral was today?”
“I didn’t. I … uh … I followed you,” she said with a sheepish smile that reminded Shannon of herself.
She knew she looked nothing like her father, and it would stand to reason she inherited her blond hair and blue eyes from her mother, but this was the first time she saw the resemblance. And honestly, it was uncanny and disturbing.
“Me? How did you—?”
“The police,” her mother cut in. “They had questions about JJ. They let me know you were here. Not here in the cemetery. Here in Tweedsmuir.”
Noah hadn’t told her anyone had questioned her mother. “What did they ask you?”
“Oh, when did I last see him? Did I have any idea who killed him? Things like that.”
For someone who’d been questioned about the murder of a man she’d never willingly broken free of, she seemed rather calm. However, the doctors had explained how mood-altering drugs would keep her mother at such an even keel that she could at times appear unemotional. Then again …
“You don’t seem upset about his death.”
“Let’s just say I see things more clearly now. They changed my medication,” she said by way of explanation.
“I don’t understand. You get new meds and what … reality?” She did her best not to sound skeptical or resentful, but damn, it was hard.
“I know I haven’t been the best mother to you. I didn’t … I couldn’t see … I … I let that man get between us. I should’ve seen. You tried to tell me,” she said, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s okay,” she offered, reaching out and touching her mother’s arm. She hadn’t gotten a report about new medication. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t, but the last thing she wanted was for her mother to break down in this cold, wet cemetery. “Why don’t we talk about this later? How did you get here? Did you take a cab?”
“No,” her mother beamed. “I have my driver’s license.”
She must have appeared skeptical because before she knew it, an open wallet had been shoved under her nose.
“See.”
Oh dear God, someone had given this woman permission to get behind the wheel of a car. “That’s impressive.” And scary as shit.
“I know, right. But I’m better now. I have new meds,” she repeated. “I even have a job. A good one. I was waiting … Well, I wanted to make sure I had my life together before I contacted you. I have so much to tell you, and I know I have a lot to make up for, but Shannon, I was wondering, do you think? I mean, would it be all right if we tried, you know, to be a family?”
Wasn’t it what Shannon had always wanted, a normal family? So why now did her mother’s request seem … off? Probably because she’d never expected it to happen, not while JJ was alive. But the one thing she always wanted, JJ gave her by dying. “Sure,” she answered, but more to get her mother out of the rain and keep her calm than having actually considered starting over. “But why don’t we have this conversation when our underwear is dry?”
She put her arm around her mother and began walking them toward the parking lot. Glancing over her shoulder at the grave she’d come to see, Shannon said a silent I’m sorry and promised she’d return. Mr. Polanski deserved a proper good-bye.
*
Shannon glanced at her phone. Two o’clock. She’d given her mother her business card with her cell phone number and told her to call. Of course she’d consider starting over, but with everything that had happened in the last few days, last night included, Shannon’s brain was in overload. The proof was in the pudding, as the old saying went, because she’d completely forgotten to ask her mother about the divorce.
She’d made sure the woman could actually drive, watched with relief as she expertly maneuvered around the potholes. Thankfully, the rain had stopped. A large semi had whizzed past, and when her mother knew enough to wait before merging, Shannon got into her own car. If Emma Lewis had gotten to the cemetery in one piece, this new woman she claimed to be could make the long drive back to Boston just as safely.
She returned to her room and found Noah in the shower. She couldn’t decide if she was pissed or foolishly happy. Earlier this morning she’d been in the middle of contemplating a nasty email when he’d returned with the food. Never having done one-night stands, she didn’t appreciate waking up alone after the best sex of her life, unexpected as it had been.
She stared at the bathroom door, debating sneaking in and stealing all the towels. But as much as her mouth watered at the idea of watching him come out naked and dripping wet, she couldn’t avoid her responsibility to a woman who had been more of a mother to her than her own. What she could avoid doing was making what had happened between her and Noah any more than what it actually was. To say it was just sex would taint what they’d once had. So she’d think of it as the farewell they’d never gotten. Then they could go on with their separate lives. Even if hers wasn’t in Vegas, Noah’s purchase of Maggie’s old house was proof that he was still a hometown boy. And she would never be a hometown girl. Hell, she wasn’t a hometown girl when she lived here.
The shower shut off, and two minutes later Noah came out of the bathroom. While not naked, the towel clinging precariously off his hips was the next best thing. “Hey, you’re back.” The kiss, while unexpected, would have set a forest on fire. “Hi.” His grin was so sexy that what had been left of the forest turned to ash. “You know, your flight doesn’t leave for another three and a half hours.”
“And as intriguing as that sounds,” and it was beyond intriguing, “I have a date I need to keep.”
“Oh?”
“Jealous?” How ridiculous was it to be pleased?
“Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it isn’t. But it’s nice you care. And I’m glad we had this time to properly say good-bye.”
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, sounding confused.
“No.”
“Then why are you talking good-byes?”
“Because I fly out at six and I still have to get myself to the airport. I don’t have a lot of time. I’m going to pack, then visit Mrs. P before I leave.”
“Let me come with you.”
“You want to come to Mrs. P’s?” Would it make it easier for her if he were there?
“Sure. I know how hard it will be to go back to that house.”
“Thanks,” she said. “That will be nice.”
“You know, you could consider staying longer.”
Was he serious? Was he nuts? “To what end? This was—”
“Please don’t say fun; anything but fun.”
“I was going to say great.”
“Great is as bad as fun,” he argued.
“How about closure? This seems to be a day for it.”
“Closure?”
She went on to explain about seeing her mother and how odd it all felt.
“Doesn’t sound like closure,” he said. “More like new beginnings.”
And why did that sound like he wasn’t only talking about her mother? What the hell was he expecting? That they would get back together? How and why would he think that? “Most men would appreciate a good time and a quick good-bye.”
Noah glanced back at the messed-up bed. “How many times have you done this?”
“What is it you want from me? You want to know if I sleep around? If I have one-night stands? I don’t. In fact, I haven’t had a real relationship in two years, and even then I’d hardly call it real.”
“Two years?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“I was bus
y building my practice and making sure Maggie stayed out of trouble. She’s a full-time job. So that,” she pointed to the bed, “was great. It was nice to be held in someone’s arms and made to feel special. I don’t want to take back what happened. Do you?”
“No,” he said indignantly. “Of course not.”
She was going to regret asking, but if she’d been honest with him … “You sleep around?”
“Honestly, I haven’t had sex since my divorce, last year.”
Certain her legs wouldn’t hold her up, she sat on the bed, debating what she could break over his head that Josh and Eldon wouldn’t be too upset over losing. Married? And only now he decided to tell her? It wasn’t that she’d expected he’d been so devastated about her leaving that he couldn’t find someone else. It was that he’d made it seem like their young love had been the most important thing to him. Surely a wife one-upped her on the heartache scale. What kind of game was he playing? And should she give a shit? She was leaving, and any thoughts she may or may not have entertained about their rekindled romance sizzled, popped, and went out.
“Well, then,” she said, “I guess you were due.”
Chapter Fourteen
Shannon hesitated on Mrs. P’s front porch steps. She could do this. She had to do this. To her right was the old swing where she’d spent countless after-school hours, eating cake and whatever else this sweet woman had baked for her. Her stomach knotted remembering all the times she’d taken it for granted.
Noah had gotten a last-minute call from his office. Which, if she was honest, she’d been grateful for. Better to face being in this house alone than dealing with tumultuous emotions involving one Noah Monroe.
The front door opened and Mrs. Polanski came out, arms extended and ready to embrace her. “Shannon, I not sure you coming. Come, come. I have cake.”
“Lemon?” It was Shannon’s favorite and always seemed to make her feel normal.
“Of course,” she said pulling her inside, which was good because Shannon wasn’t so sure she could take that first step.