by Jared, Jenna
Samantha rolled her eyes. "But I met him the other day for an interview and he hired me. Then he took me to lunch and then, when he kissed me—"
"You can't—"
"I know just what you're going to say. He's too old for me, blahblahblah, he's old enough to be your father—"
"Samantha!" Carrie took a deep breath, closed her eyes and spoke. "He is your father."
Chapter Eleven
Samantha's face contorted; Carrie could read emotions crossing the girl's face in rapid succession. Confusion, anger, anguish, fear, disgust…then back to confusion. And mistrust.
"Wha—What do you mean?"
"I mean…Zack isn't really your father. He just married your mother to save her from…" Being mortified? Accused as a liar and a gold-digging tramp? "Unwed motherhood."
Samantha shook her head. "No. No! He married my mom because he is my dad. He and Mom met in high school. I was—they got married three months after they graduated. He loved her."
"He did, Samantha. He loved her." Very much. Even though he said he hadn't loved her the same way he loved me. Carrie let a shaky breath escape from her lungs. "But he wasn't your father."
"But that's stupid. Why would he do that, then? You have to be wrong, Carrie. Nobody gets married because someone else got their girlfriend pregnant." The girl shook her head. Her face, flushed a pretty rosy pink only moments ago, was now red with tears and anguish. "That's crazy."
"Eighteen years ago, Samantha, people thought differently than they do now. Being a single mom wasn't as accepted. And for Sarah—for your mom—it would have been horrible. Her parents would have thrown her out…"
"No. I don't believe you. You're just telling me that because—because—" Samantha swung around. "You're leaving and you're mad at my dad. That's why he hasn't been humming the past couple of days. You broke up."
"We did, Samantha. But I'm not making this story up to hurt you. It's true."
"Why didn't Mom and Dad tell me themselves, then?" Samantha stamped her foot.
"Because they didn't want to hurt you."
"But you do?"
"No." Carrie shook her head. "No, I just—Samantha. You have to believe me. Mike is your biological father."
"Well, then, how? You're saying my mom cheated on my dad?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Carrie.
Ellie, sitting between them, whined. She lifted her paw at the girl, as if saying, Stop. Or maybe, I'm sorry. But it didn't matter, because Samantha wasn't paying attention. Instead, she stared at Carrie with the same angry expression that Mike himself had displayed when Zack had told him to leave her alone in the movie theater.
Carrie swallowed. "Samantha. Think. You've been asking about me. Why your dad seems to know me even though you've never heard of me… He was my boyfriend in high school. Your mom was my best friend. When I left for college, he did for her what he does for everyone. He took responsibility for her problems. He rescued her. He rescued you."
"But…but why didn't my father—my real father…?"
"Because he didn't love your mom."
"Neither did Dad. So…why…how?"
Carrie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and told Samantha the truth.
*****
Zack tied the ends of the apron strings around his waist and opened the refrigerator door. Samantha would be home soon from her internship, and she'd be hungry. She hadn't told him where she was working yet. She'd promised she would and that it would be a big surprise.
To be honest, nothing Samantha did surprised him anymore. She was a ray of sunshine, a burst of energy, ying, yang and a bit of controlled crazy all wrapped up into one delightful package of young woman he was proud to call his own. He knew that she'd go far, that she'd achieve anything she set her mind to once she graduated from college. A swift, sharp stab of sadness pierced his heart at the thought that Carrie would never share his joy in the accomplishments of Sarah's daughter.
He decided to make her favorite tacos and burritos for dinner so they could celebrate her luck at landing the internship she'd angled for prior to college, and he pulled the package of ground hamburger out of the fridge. Then he turned back for the lettuce.
The front door pounded open, slamming back against the hallway wall; Samantha stumbled into the kitchen with her face red and tear-streaked. She raced at him. The head of lettuce flew out of his hand, landing with a leafy whump on the kitchen floor, scattering bits everywhere. She pushed him, then pounded her fists against his chest, shrieking in a sound so pained, it took his breath away.
He hadn't seen her in such a rage since she was a toddler. Zack reached out to pull her into his arms, but she pushed him away with such ferocity, it hurt. "I hate you!" she screamed at him. "How could you? Why didn't you tell me? You lied to me! You let me think everything was fine—and you're not even my real father!"
A sucker punch wouldn't have hurt as much. He reared his head back as his own anger filled him. "Who told you?" But even as he asked, he knew the answer. There was only one person who knew the truth. Carrie.
He was going to kill her. How dare she tell Samantha the truth when she knew both he and Sarah had worked so hard to keep it from her? There was only one reason he could think of why anyone would do something so awful, and that was spite.
The thought that Carrie would never be that spiteful crossed his mind. She might not ever talk to him again, but he couldn't imagine she'd drag this beautiful young woman into an emotional hell, just because he'd broken her heart.
Still. He reached out and pulled Samantha into his embrace. She fell into him, her hands clutching at him even as she tried to push him away. After a moment's struggle, she gave up and just hung in his arms, sobbing. He pressed his cheek to her sweet-smelling hair and rocked her, just as he had when she was a baby. "Oh, my girl. Don't you know that I love you? Don't you know that I only did what I thought was best for you?" He stroked her head. "We didn't want to hurt you with the truth."
"Mommy," Samantha sobbed. "Mike. I hate him! I hate him."
"I know," Zack soothed. "We do, too."
Wait a minute. He lifted Samantha's chin. "You know Mike?"
"He's—he's my new boss," Samantha sobbed. "He—he told me I was beautiful, like my mo-mo-mother. He was going to take me for dinner tonight, going to…" She trailed off and began sobbing again.
"Shh…" Zack soothed. "Shhh…" Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Zack couldn't imagine hating anyone more than he hated Mike O'Hare at that moment. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man—the pervert—had had Samantha in his sights. If he wasn't a cop, if Mike wasn't his boss, if he was less of a man, Zack knew, he wouldn't hesitate to castrate him and hang him and his balls out to dry. Or something.
But right now, he was a father, and his first desire was to stop his little girl's anguish. So he rocked, and he shushed.
"I went to Carrie's to tell her that I worked for Mike and how I thought I might really like him," Samantha said, her voice muffled. "And she told me." She lifted her head. "She didn't want to, Daddy. But…" She sniffled. "Don't let her leave. Please don't let her leave, Daddy. You love her. Mommy loved her. I love her, too. Please go get her. Don't let her leave. I know she loves you, too. You belong together."
"I'll go, later." He held her close.
But Samantha pushed her way out of his arms and wiped at her eyes. "You have to go now." She took a deep breath. In that moment, he saw the girl he'd known become the woman she was meant to be, as a new maturity settled onto her shoulders. "You sacrificed your life for Mom and for me, Daddy. Now it's your turn. Yours and Carrie's. You have to go." She lifted her chin, looking stubborn. Looking like Sarah. "Now."
"But—"
"Dad. Now. And you better make her stay in Rhode Island. Or I'll never talk to you again."
Three times is the charm. Zack pulled her close for a kiss. "You'll always be my baby girl."
"And you'll always be my dad." She kissed his cheek. "Even if you do wear that apron."
>
"Because I wear this apron." Zack grinned, untied it and handed it to her.
"Whatever. I'm going to hide it. Now go. Quick!"
He grinned and ran out the door.
*****
Carrie drew the brush along the outside of the cupboard, painting away all vestiges of life with Nana in one fell swoop. So easy to clean up and cover up, as if the woman who'd spent sixty-some-odd years of her life in the house had never been there at all. And as if she, herself, had never been there either.
Could she really do that? Or would pieces of herself and Nana always occupy this house, their happiness, sadness, love, laughter and life left behind like psychic crumbs? She sighed and dipped the tip of the brush once more. Whether pieces of them were left behind or not, she hoped the buyers of Nana's house had happy lives there.
Ellie, lying in the corner by the fridge, suddenly lifted her head and growled. Then she stood, hackles rising. Carrie put her brush down into the paint pan. "What's the matter, El Beast?" The only time she'd seen her growl this way was when Mike approached her on the beach.
The dog's lips curled, showing sharp teeth. She lowered her head, eyes shining weirdly as she glared at the foyer. What the heck? Carrie stared at the dog. She looked like something from a horror movie. A werewolf, or a hound of hell. Her growling grew louder, a fierce, gravelly sound.
Carrie jumped as the front door thudded. Someone was pounding on it, shouting. A man. A very strong, very angry man.
Zack? she thought, even as she realized that the man whose silhouette loomed in the door glass was Mike O'Hare. She bit her lip and stepped back into the kitchen, her heart thumping. Maybe, if he didn't see her, he'd go away. Maybe—
The window in the door shattered and she heard an oath as Mike's foot tangled in the curtain covering the glass; she could see the dark shadow of his sole outlined in the sheer fabric. Then the door crashed open, the frame splintered and the top hinge broken. The door hung at an angle and Mike stood in the doorway. He glared at her with wild eyes, his face as dark and enraged as a madman's.
"Carrie!" he shrieked. "Carrie effin' Kennedy. Where the fuck are you?"
Ellie moved forward; Carrie grabbed the dog's collar. She knew if Ellie lunged, her fingers would get sprained if not broken. But she didn't want to think of the consequences if the animal bit the mayor. With Ellie at her side, she moved into the foyer; the dog shifted to stand in front of her, leaning against her legs to protect her from the angry man.
"You bitch!" he spat. "You told Samantha that I raped her mother? You told her she was my daughter? What kind of lie was that?"
"You raped Sarah, Mike. You know it and I know it. So admit it." Carrie lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed no matter how weak her knees felt or how much her heart raced. "You were her prom date. You raped her and she got pregnant. You're a disgusting human being. You're barely a human being. And when I'm done writing up your story, your political career is as good as over."
He took another step into the room. Carrie could see the veins standing out on his high forehead and the sweat blanketing his brow. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"She came to my office, the little cunt, screaming and shouting this bullshit for everyone to hear. How I raped her mother. How I was her father. Everyone heard. Everyone."
"Good. I'll have plenty of witnesses to interview," Carrie said, taking a step back as Mike stepped forward. Ellie stiffened. "Eighteen years ago, Mike, paternity was a lot harder to prove. Now they do it all the time. Samantha will take the test. You'll have to take the test. And when it's over, you won't be able to cover this up with your bullshit. Everyone will know—just like Zack and Sarah and I have always known—what a slime you really are. And then, your career will be ruined—"
Mike lunged. Carrie lifted her arms to shield herself as his meaty fists hammered down upon her, cracking her once in the cheek with a solid thump that left her seeing white sparkles and hearing bells. Darkness crowded the edges of her vision as she began to fall. And then, she heard a shriek of agony unlike any she'd heard before.
"My balls!" Mike squeaked. "Call off your dog, Carrie! Call her off!"
"I wouldn't worry about it, Mike," she heard someone say. Zack! "Where you're going, you probably won't need them anyway. I'm arresting you for assault and battery. Drunk and disorderly. Breaking and entering. And anything else I can pin on you."
Carrie opened her eyes to see her hero stepping over Mike, who lay curled on the glass-strewn floor with his hands between his legs. Ellie stood over him, dripping foam from her jaws. Zack fell to his knees beside her; he put his strong arms around her and lifted her up to cradle her against his chest. In that moment, everything was better. No matter what had happened, Carrie knew, she'd be okay.
"I'm so sorry, Carrie," he said. "I wish I'd gotten here sooner. When I saw Mike's car in the drive, and the door off its hinges, I thought… I'm just glad I got here before he could do any more. Are you all right?"
"I'm okay. Just a little stunned." She pressed her face into his chest. I shouldn't be doing this, she thought. He probably hates me for what I did, telling Samantha the truth. And I deserve it. She inhaled the warm scent of him, wrapping her arms around his neck. This may be the last time I ever get to hold him.
My hero. My Zack.
He lifted her up in his arms and stood. Several more officers streamed in through the broken front door. "Take him in, will ya?" he told them. "I'm taking her to the hospital to get her checked out."
"What about the dog, Captain?"
"She can ride with us," he said. Ellie took one final snap at Mike. He screamed again, curling into a tighter ball. Then she wagged her tail and grinned a doggie-grin at Carrie.
"Wuff!" she said and sat down, holding up her paw as if to say, I've got it under control. You kids go along now. Everything's fine.
Carrie snorted a laugh. Zack peered down at her and grinned. "Or not," he said. "She can go to the station and keep an eye on the assailant."
Footsteps suddenly pounded across the porch and through the door. Samantha skidded to a stop in the doorway. "Dad! Carrie! Is everything all right?" She rushed inside, crunching over the glass on the floor. "Dad—I heard you call for backup on the police scanner and I knew you were here. What happened? Is Carrie okay?"
"It's all right," Zack said. "I'm taking her to the hospital to get checked out. You can come with us."
Carrie realized he still cradled her in his arms, a ridiculous place for her to be. She smiled at Samantha, gesturing at Zack with her chin. The girl giggled and rolled her eyes.
"You can put me down, Zack," Carrie said.
"Not on your life. I don't care if I have to carry you everywhere, Carrie-da, I'm not putting you down until you promise me you'll stay in Rhode Island and forget about Texas." He bent his head low and brushed a soft, sweet kiss over her lips. "I love you. Be my wife."
Samantha reached for Carrie's hand. "Be my mom."
In that moment, cradled in Zack's arms with his daughter's hand clenched in hers, Carrie made her decision. She smiled at her new family. "I don't need to go to the hospital. Just…take me home."
Chapter Twelve
Five months later…
"I now pronounce you man and wife," the minister said, and Zack swooped down to claim Carrie's lips with his own. He lifted her up and spun her around, much to the delight of their guests—a few of Zack's family members, a cadre of police officers, and friends of Carrie's who'd flown up from Texas. They applauded as Carrie beamed down into Zack's handsome face.
"We did it!" she told him. "We're married!"
"It's about time." He let her slide down his body in a sensual, can't-wait-until-later way, then tucked her arm under his and led her down the aisle of the church, into the sunshine and bright autumn air.
Samantha walked behind them, beautiful in her rust-red, slinky bridesmaid's dress. So much like Sarah, and yet—different. My daughter, now, Carrie thought. Kind of like a friend, somewhat like
a sister—but even more. She followed them, looking joyous and stunningly beautiful, so much like Sarah that Carrie would have cried if she weren't so happy. She watched Samantha's boyfriend move to her side and grasp her arm in a way that would have once made Zack bristle. But Carrie had persuaded him that Samantha was capable of taking care of herself. In fact, she pointed out, he had instilled enough pride and self-assurance in her to support five women. Even better, because of her experience, she'd decided that after she graduated from college, she wanted to be an advocate for victims of rape. Carrie had no doubt that Samantha's future clients would prosper under her guidance and help.
They stopped on the lawn and turned to face their guests. The first one to shake Carrie's hand was her new boss, the editor of the local paper. "Don't have too much fun on your honeymoon," Daniella said, shaking her hand. "O'Hare's trial is coming up in a couple of weeks, and I want my best beat writer there."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Because of Carrie's in-depth reporting, women had been coming forward to tell of their own experiences with Mike, from former co-eds accusing him of date rape to secretaries telling stories of harassment and sexual advances.
The day passed quickly—as long-anticipated days often do—and before she knew it, Carrie and Zack were climbing into the pickup for the drive to the airport. And their honeymoon.
She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.
"No sleeping, Mrs. Mahoney. At least not until we get on the plane." Zack plucked her hand up and squeezed it in his. "I can't carry you and the luggage, too."
"Weenie," she chided. "I thought I'd married a tough guy."
"You did. But I need to save my strength. For tonight." His voice grew silky. "I saw that the honeymoon suite has a king-sized bed. I thought we'd try out every inch of it."
She grinned. "I already get enough inches, Zack. Yours."
He beamed with masculine conceit.
She laughed and turned her head to watch the passing scenery. Things had changed during the years. She didn't even recognize most of what they passed. The old farm, with the stone wall and the incredible view of the Newport Bridge, was the same. But the houses lining the road were new. And the businesses. Especially the strip malls. She realized they were close to the kennel where Nana had kept Ellie.