All We Knew

by Jamie Beck

  “So you’re staying. You aren’t going back to California?”

  “Yes, but not because of Ty. I’m here because I love you and you love me. With work and compromise, we can turn this marriage around and fall even more in love.”

  He held her close, swayed side to side. “Not possible for me to be more in love, babe. Since the day I met you, you owned every square inch of my heart.”

  Epilogue

  “Don’t panic. The ambulance is on its way.” Sara handed Gentry a bottle of water as she forced her to lie back in the front seat of her car.

  “It’s too soon.” Gentry’s eyes widened with fear.

  “Gentry, look at me. It’s only three and a half weeks early. Everything will be okay. The ambulance will take you, and as soon as Hunter arrives, we’ll follow behind.”

  “But your car.”

  “I’ll deal with it later. We can leave it here and get it towed.” Sara took deep breaths to calm herself now that the Saturday-morning shopping spree had turned into a birthing. Unfortunately, Sara had inadvertently run over a nail when parking the car and now had a flat tire and no spare. A hundred yards away, inside Posh Baby, there were several moms buying things for their kids. If push came to shove, surely one of them would know how to help Gentry.

  “Oh God, Sara. I’m scared. I’m not ready. I’m really not ready.” Gentry’s face turned red as she clamped down against another cramp. “And I’ve messed up your seat.”

  Gentry’s water had broken on the sidewalk, but now her wet backside was leaving an imprint on the leather.

  Tears—frightened tears—leaked from Gentry’s eyes.

  “It’s fine, and you are ready. Stop worrying. Focus on your breathing. Focus on happy thoughts.” She stroked Gentry’s hair. “You’re going to be a mom today.”

  Sara’s heart was full enough that she could say those words without pain or envy. The past six months she’d been Ty’s mother. At first it had been rough. His trauma—his loss and confusion—made him withdraw and then act out. She and Hunter had hired psychological and occupational therapists to work with him. This past spring, he’d finally started to open up to them little by little.

  Sara had recently talked Hunter and Jenna into letting her work part-time on the launch of the new product line, too. Between counseling, parenting, and starting to work together, her marriage had gotten stronger.

  Pretty soon they’d go to court to finalize the adoption, and no family or other obstacle stood in their way. She could not be more in love with any child than she was with her little tiger.

  Minutes ago, she’d strapped Ty into the car seat and thrown a bag of Cheerios and a banana at him to keep him occupied while they waited for an ambulance. He was kicking his legs and crunching away, blissfully unaware of what was happening in the front seat.

  “Ty, you’re going to have a cousin!” Sara was so pleased that the family was expanding and Ty would have one more person to love, and to be loved by.

  He returned her smile, although she knew he had no idea what that really meant. In the distance, she heard a siren.

  Gentry looked up, her eyes alert. “Oh, thank God. I know you’re great and all, but I really didn’t want to have this baby in your car with only you for help.”

  Sara chuckled. “Me neither, Gentry.”

  The ambulance pulled up beside them, and the EMTs soon approached. It took her a second, but then she placed the tall one with wavy brown hair and haunting green eyes. “Ian? Ian Crawford?”

  He looked at her, perplexed. “Yes?”

  “Sorry. We met at the Angel House months ago. You were just back from Guatemala and came to visit your mom. I’d been injured.” She extended her hand. “Sara Cabot.”

  “Oh yeah. Good memory.”

  “Sara, enough with the reunion. This baby’s going to come out while you’re yammering.” Gentry scowled.

  “Oh, sorry. Oh! Ian, this is my sister-in-law, Gentry.” She grinned, having always wanted Gentry to meet a nice man like him. “She’s in labor.”

  He smiled at them. “I see that. Why don’t you let me in there?”

  Sara stepped aside, embarrassed. “Of course.”

  While the EMTs were transferring Gentry to the ambulance, Hunter arrived. He stopped to say something to his sister, then came around to Sara and Ty. “Not Gentry’s typical shopping spree.”

  Laughing, she hugged him. “No. And now my car needs a new tire. I didn’t want to wait for roadside assistance in case Gentry needed me to go with her.”

  “You go. I’ll stay with Ty and get the car towed. We’ll come join everyone at the hospital after.” He leaned down and tugged on Ty’s foot. “You ready for an adventure with Daddy?”

  Ty nodded and smashed more banana in his mouth. The sound of Gentry shouting made them all turn and look.

  “I’d better go keep her calm. See you later.” Sara kissed both her boys goodbye and then went to the ambulance.

  Six hours later, the family gathered in Gentry’s room to meet the newest member of the family, Colton Cabot—Colt, for short. He had a mop of black hair and deep-blue eyes, although she knew those eyes might change color within the coming days. His coloring was more olive toned than Gentry’s, so he must look like the elusive Smith.

  On some level, it saddened Sara to know that Gentry’s child would never know his father, and that Smith had no idea he had a son. And although the tiniest pang of regret tightened her chest when she thought about how Colt might have been hers to raise, it vanished when she saw the glow in Gentry’s green eyes as she held her son.

  “He’s beautiful, Gentry,” Sara said, her vision blurred from tears. She clutched Hunter’s belt. “Beautiful.”

  Hunter had Ty on his hip. He leaned down to kiss his sister’s head and let Ty get a closer look at his cousin. “Ty, meet Aunt Gentry’s son, Colt. You’ll teach him how to play with blocks one day.”

  “Bocks,” Ty repeated, and Hunter buried his nose in his son’s cheek.

  Colby elbowed her way to the bed and sat beside her sister to look at her newest nephew, her new engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight heralding Colt’s birth. Alec stood at her side, hand on her shoulder, as she cried and hugged her sister.

  Jed and Jenna were arm in arm, proud grandparents. He’d been doing better, although he still had occasional bad days and periodic checkups. He’d returned to work in a part-time capacity to oversee the launch of the new venture with King Cola, which was on the horizon. So far, Hunter’s predictions and efforts were on track to pay off as he’d promised.

  Even Jenna and Hunter’s truce had held since the big vote. No one would ever accuse them of being close, but the bickering had subsided, which made it easier for the rest of the family to relax at gatherings.

  “We did it,” Sara whispered to Hunter.

  He wrapped his free arm around her shoulder and raised a questioning brow. “Did what, babe?”

  “We made a happy family.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I have many people to thank for helping me bring this book to all of you, not the least of which are my family and friends for their continued love, encouragement, and support.

  Thanks, also, to my agent, Jill Marsal; as well as to my patient editors, Chris Werner, Megan Mulder, and Krista Stroever; and the entire Montlake family for believing in me and working so hard on my behalf. I’ve been eager to stretch into new territory, so I’m grateful that they’ve all given me permission to write these Cabot stories.

  A special thanks to Liz Keogh, Katy Lee, and Jen Moncuse, who educated me about IVFs, foster care, and adoption, and helped me make Sara’s journey authentic.

  My MTBs, who help me plot, and my Beta Babes (Katherine, Suzanne, and Tami) are the best, having provided invaluable input on various drafts of this manuscript. Also, thank you to Laura Moore and Lisa Creane for your thoughtful feedback and insight into what wasn’t working with the early drafts.

  And I can’t leave out the wonderful members o
f my CTRWA chapter, especially my MTBs. Year after year, all the CTRWA members provide endless hours of support, feedback, and guidance. I love and thank them for that.

  Finally, and most important, thank you, readers, for making my work worthwhile. Considering all your options, I’m honored by your choice to spend your time with me.

  SNEAK PEEK

  WHEN YOU KNEW (THE CABOTS, BOOK 3)

  We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

  —Shakespeare

  Chapter One

  Gentry’s Wordplay

  Colic:

  According to Merriam-Webster—a condition marked by recurrent episodes of prolonged and uncontrollable crying and irritability in an otherwise healthy infant that is of unknown cause and usually subsides after three to four months of age

  According to me—karmic payback for reneging on my offer to let Hunter and Sara adopt my baby

  Colt had been screaming all evening, as usual. Colic, they said, although labeling it did nothing at all to help Gentry’s infant son or her to live with the never-ending fussing. No amount of soothing, bouncing, rocking, or walking quieted him if his eyes were open.

  She was alone and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, her thoughts as slippery as quicksilver, fueling the stress headache pulsing behind her eyes. Her son’s screeching response to the doorbell, which echoed off the vaulted ceiling and plate glass windows, didn’t help.

  With her unhappy child bristling in her arms, Gentry raced across the living room—sidestepping a growing stack of unread parenting magazines—to reach the door before the visitor rang again. If she’d actually succeeded in getting Colt to sleep this evening, she might’ve shot the fool on the other side of her door for risking waking him. In fact, she might shoot him, anyway, just because it had been that kind of day, and her frustration needed a target.

  She flung her door open, baby pressed to her chest, and gawked at her half brother, Hunter. “You?”

  Hunter and his wife, Sara, stood in the dusky summer sunset. Wide eyes and slack jaws contrasted with their elegant Saturday-night attire. Were they stunned by her impolite greeting or by her shabby appearance? Probably both, she conceded.

  Seconds ticked by before Hunter found his voice. “You’re alive.”

  “Depends on your definition.” Gentry retreated into the house, knowing they’d follow even though she hadn’t invited them to visit. She couldn’t shoo them away, but she didn’t want them to see her strung out, either.

  Expecting Gentry to fail was something of a Cabot family tradition. For most of her life, she’d been happy to live “down” to their expectations. In rare moments of self-honesty, she could admit that, at times, she’d even turned it into a game. An immature dynamic, for sure, but one that hurt a lot less than being ignored or than trying and failing. She didn’t, however, want to be seen as a failure of a mother.

  Colton was the only perfect, innocent, precious thing she’d ever produced in her entire life. The problem? She had no idea how to be a mom, let alone be a good one. Hadn’t exactly had a great role model.

  “We just left A CertainTea.” Sara held up a to-go bag that smelled like curried seafood. Her signature smile returned, which complimented her simple summer sheath and shiny hair. Gentry smoothed the loose hairs that had pulled free from the ponytail, unable to recall the last time she had looked as sharp. “No one has seen or heard from you in almost three days. We thought we’d check on you on our way home and drop off some food.”

  Hunter and Sara lived about a half mile up the road. Their proximity had been one of the reasons Gentry had picked this unit. Its oversize deck and lake views didn’t hurt, either. The only flaw was the cliff of a backyard, which descended to more than one hundred feet to Lake Sandy. Not the best play space, but that view! She figured the flat front yard and nearby park would suffice.

  Sara set the bag on the entry table, her gaze homing in on Colt. Gentry almost wished Sara had held a grudge against her for keeping Colt, because Sara’s graciousness inflicted far worse guilt. The look of love her sister-in-law gave Colt only made it harder.

  “Thanks.” Gentry’s stomach gurgled at the whiff of real food. Getting to the grocery store had become harder than climbing Mount Everest, so she’d been making due with Ritz crackers, oatmeal, and eggs. A fact underscored by the empty red-and-yellow box tipped over on the coffee table.

  Hunter stood, legs apart, hands on his hips. His owlish gaze roamed the living room, taking inventory of the remnants of what had once been a lovely, contemporary condominium.

  Baby blankets lay strewn on several surfaces. The outrageously pricey Roche Bobois sofa cushions were askew. Two half-empty baby bottles sat on various tabletops sans coasters, and brightly colored baby play gyms, bouncy seats, and other necessities ate up a majority of the floor space. The pièce de résistance? The hideous white plastic sculpture—otherwise known as the Diaper Genie—looming in one corner.

  If Gentry didn’t already know that her brother’s house never looked like it had been ravished by a monsoon despite them chasing after their foster son, Ty, the look on Hunter’s face confirmed it. “What the hell happened?”

  “Nothing.” Gentry rhythmically jostled Colt, but he fussed and cried, heedless of how much she wished he’d stop just long enough to convince Hunter and Sara that she knew what she was doing. His tiny head bobbled against her collarbone.

  She tucked her nose against Colt’s cheek to smell his sweet skin and then looked into those inky-blue eyes—the color of a moonless night sky—and swore she’d do right by him. Somehow she’d learn, on her own, to be what he needed and give him everything he deserved.

  Someday. As soon as his constant crying ended and her mental fog lifted. Then she’d finally experience the bliss reflected in every other young mother’s face. Tonight, however, there’d be no bliss. At the moment, she’d settle for thirty minutes of peace and quiet.

  Sara reached both hands toward Colt, soft smile on display. “Can I hold the little pumpkin while you eat?”

  “And shower,” Hunter muttered, earning himself a sharp look of disapproval from Sara. He raised his hands in surrender.

  Hunter and Sara probably thought they’d make better parents for Colt than Gentry did. As much as she wanted to prove them wrong, right now she wanted that curry shrimp more. “Sure.”

  Gentry handed her son to Sara, whose entire face lit with adoration. Would there come a day when wondering if Sara coveted him a bit would no longer be the first thought Gentry had whenever she saw her son with his aunt? The thought wasn’t charitable or fair of Gentry, considering how quickly Sara had forgiven her.

  Forcing her uneasiness aside, Gentry retrieved the to-go bag from the entry table. Anything from their sister Colby’s restaurant qualified as the best food in the Greater Portland area. Colby’s boyfriend, Alec, was A CertainTea’s chef and had spent years training in Mougins, France.

  Gentry practically skipped to the kitchen, clutching the bag with greedy hands. Her brother followed her and waited while she reheated the food in the microwave—the one appliance her mom had taught her how to use.

  “Gentry.” He then waved his hand up and down, obviously unimpressed by her formula-stained robe, old lady slippers, and ponytail. “Are you okay? You seem a little . . . overwhelmed.”

  “You just caught me at a bad moment.” She turned away, pretending to study the plate spinning in the microwave. He didn’t need to know that the so-called bad moment repeated over and over, minute by minute, day by day, like a hellish version of Groundhog Day.

  He tipped his head, eyes filled with doubt. “Will we see you back at work starting Monday? I hate to pressure you, but the ready-made tea launch is just around the corner. We need all hands on deck in the marketing department.”

  The family business, Cabot Tea Company, had entered into a joint venture with King Cola to produce and distribute ready-to-drink iced tea. Hunter had pretty much gambled the family fortune on the new product launch. He
’d been growing more intense by the day in an effort to ensure the launch went off well.

  “I thought the launch wasn’t until October,” she deadpanned.

  His brows rode up on his forehead. “What?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Hunter. I’m joking.” She snatched the plate from the microwave and grabbed a fork. He was lucky she was starving, or he’d have gotten an earful. “I know the schedule. I’ve been on some calls with my mom and the team.”

  Just not FaceTime or Skype—God forbid!

  The first too-hot bite burned the roof of her mouth, but hunger kept her chewing. She heard herself purring the kinds of sounds that, in another context, might come from the bedroom—not that she could remember that feeling much these days. “Alec’s the best chef ev-ah.”

  “Colby would agree.” Hunter smiled for the first time since he’d arrived.

  Gentry had taken her third bite when Sara came into the kitchen with Colt, forehead creased with concern. “I think he’s a little warm. And this cough. Have you been to the doctor?”

  Gentry loved Sara, but her worrywart reflex and preference to parent “by the book” added unnecessary stress to motherhood. If Ty’s adoption went through, no doubt the poor tyke’s childhood would be a series of very well-intentioned and warmly enforced rules and expectations, tutors, and lessons. Sara probably googled every little boo-boo, too.

  Gentry didn’t believe in raising kids that way. She wanted Colt to be a free spirit. To explore without limitations so he’d become a confident, interesting, outside-the-box kind of man.

  “I don’t need a doctor. Colt’s warm because he’s been crying all evening. That takes a lot of exertion.” She chomped another shrimp. Honestly, it tasted orgasmically good. Was that a word? Well, it should be. Note to self—check Merriam-Webster.

  “His cough sounds wet, but I can’t tell if he’s wheezing. You know, preemies are more susceptible to illnesses like RSV. Maybe you should have him checked just to be sure.” Sara patted Colt while swaying with him, cuddling him like a beloved, if screechy, teddy bear.