by Tara Randel
His words of praise lifted her spirits. They’d always been on the same page until the last couple of years. It still saddened her the way they’d drifted apart.
“It’s a good thing she never figured out we used to hang out here,” Mitch continued. “You needed a place to unwind when she went for days on a painting spree.”
Those times had been hard. Her mother had been right on the cusp of making a legitimate name for herself as an artist after many years of shows and reviews and getting her work in front of the right people. She’d throw herself totally into a project, forgoing all else, at the expense of Zoe’s childhood. With the money her paintings were earning, Zoe had had to pay the bills her mother forgot about to ensure the studio had light for her to work by. Zoe had bought groceries, cooked, cleaned, you name it. While she should have been at high school football games and school dances, instead, she was making sure her mother didn’t fall into a depression over a negative review. Until they’d hired Maria, her mom’s assistant, Zoe had made sure her mother met her deadlines at the same time as she was studying for tests.
“It all worked out.”
“I heard the gallery has done well. National artists show their work there?”
“Maria is responsible for that. You remember when she took over. I’d had about as much of the art world as I could handle. Maria and my mom clicked and both had a similar vision. So yes, the gallery is quite successful.”
A band of loosely formed clouds passed before the moon, obscuring the light. The temperature dipped, but it was still warm enough to enjoy the seasonable night.
“Have you talked to your folks?” she asked, dreading the answer.
“My mom. I’m not ready for a reunion with my father. I’m sure he’ll love telling me how weak I am.”
Zoe’s back went stiff. Mr. Simmons was a bully. She’d never liked the man.
“You can’t help you were in an accident.”
“Some way, Dad will turn it around and make it my fault.”
“I make sure your mother sees Leo pretty regularly. Not so much your dad.”
“He’s probably not interested, anyway.”
He wasn’t, but Zoe didn’t want to dump salt in the wound by confirming it.
The breeze picked up and the clouds broke free from the moon. In the milky light, Zoe could make out Mitch’s brow furrowed in thought.
“Your mom is good with Leo.”
Mitch smiled. “I don’t doubt it. She was a great mother to me.”
“The past is the past, Mitch. We can focus on Leo now. Make sure he has the best life any kid can have.”
He started poking at the sand with his cane again. “What if I can’t?”
“Mitch, it’s still early. The doctor even said so.”
“Zoe, I want to be there for him, able to help him ride his first bike or to shoot hoops in the driveway.”
“And you will. You’ll get better physically.” She paused, hated to voice her next nagging thought. “But when you are better, you’ll have to decide if you want to leave again. If you do, you’ll miss those milestones.”
Mitch stared into the darkness, then said, “I don’t want to let him down.”
Like he had her?
“Mitch, just love him.”
“Is that what you’ve learned?”
“Yes, in my vast experience of one year.” She glanced at him. “Parenting takes time. We learn as we go.”
“I want that.”
She had no doubt. He might want to gallivant around the world, but she’d seen the love in his eyes when he’d looked at their son. A deep kind of love they’d both let slip away from each other.
“He’s starting to take more than a few steps before falling. This morning, he made it from the couch across the living room to the armchair.”
“He’ll be on a skateboard before you know it.”
“Please. Don’t rush things.”
Skateboards and fast cars were a part of Mitch. She silently prayed Leo didn’t inherit the reckless gene.
“Feeling better?”
Mitch rolled his shoulders. “Yeah. Headache’s eased.”
“Do you get them often?”
“Every day.”
And reality returned with a slap in the face. “Ready to head back?”
“I suppose.”
As they stood, a memory jolted Zoe. “I won’t let you fall.”
Mitch’s head jerked in her direction. “That’s what I used to tell you.”
When they were younger, Zoe refused to get on a skateboard. She’d fallen off once, scraped her knee pretty badly and wouldn’t try again. But Mitch had hounded her, insisting she’d be fine. Finally giving in, she’d gingerly pushed the board with Mitch by her side. When she got enough nerve to pick up speed, he was running with her, ready to catch her if she wavered and fell. He’d been like that back then, pushing her beyond her boundaries, sure she could balance on the board like a pro. But when their marriage wavered and fell apart, neither had been able to pick up the pieces.
They’d taken a few steps when Mitch stopped.
“Something wrong?”
“This is the place we shared our first kiss.”
Her stomach fluttered. He was right.
With the life-altering events of the past week and watching Mitch’s near meltdown just a short while ago, Zoe had forgotten. How could she have failed to recall such a momentous event?
“It was junior year.” Mitch grinned at her. “We’d been flirting and I was determined to make us a couple. When I suggested it here, you got all teary, said yes and then I kissed you.”
Okay, if she were truthful, maybe she didn’t want to remember that night. The sweet memory brought a pinch of pain in the vicinity of her heart.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Doesn’t make it any less memorable.”
She didn’t want to talk about the good times, because that would ultimately lead to a discussion of the bad times. Of wondering how they could have let such a young, fragile love grow and bloom, then not tend it and watch it wither and fade. Yeah, she couldn’t go there.
“I think the best thing for us is to focus on Leo.”
“Yeah.” His voice went hard. “The best thing.”
They continued walking, uneasiness building a wall between them.
“Who is watching Leo tonight?”
“My mom. She’s not a fan of bonfires.”
“After that year she decided her work was derivative and tossed all her newest paintings in the fire, I can see why.”
“One of her more epic mood swings.”
“She said she had the evening all planned. Then she started getting all giggly. She loves Leo, but this was odd. Like something else was going on.”
“Something she didn’t tell you?”
“We might get along better than we did when I was a kid, but she still doesn’t tell me everything.”
“That’s your mom.”
And it still drove her crazy.
“By the way, I checked my work calendar,” she told Mitch as they approached the dying bonfire. Wispy white streaks of smoke curled from the few logs left aglow on the pile. The crowd had thinned, with it the prying eyes of speculation. “I can take you to your appointments.”
“If you’re sure.”
She placed a hand on his arm. “I mean it. Your recovery is important to Leo.”
A shadow dimmed his eyes. “Right.”
Before she could say anything more, Tim walked up to them, his eyes on Zoe.
“You guys okay?”
“Oh, Tim. Sorry. Mitch and I... We needed to talk.”
“Thanks for your concern,” Mitch said, voice tight.
“No problem.” Tim sent him a quick glance, then shifted back to Zoe. “Re
ady to go home?”
“I...um...came with Nealy.” Awkward. She felt Mitch’s eyes on her but refused to meet his gaze.
“She left. Asked me to make sure you got home safely.”
“How neighborly of you,” Mitch said.
She recognized that tone. Deceptive in calmness, concealing mounting displeasure. Time to make a getaway. Fast. “I’ll call you, Mitch.”
“Great.”
She turned and walked away, with Tim beside her. It was all she could do not to look over her shoulder. She didn’t like being in this situation, but Mitch had put her here, right? When he’d left, then supposedly died. She’d just been getting her life in order when he’d returned.
So why did she suddenly feel like she was in limbo all over again?
* * *
MITCH WATCHED HIS wife walk away with another man, his gut burning. How had he let himself get to this low point?
“Young Mitch would have had words with Tim,” Wyatt said as he joined Mitch. “And the guy wouldn’t have liked what you had to say.”
“Yeah, well, this Mitch walks with a cane and can barely keep himself together, so...”
“Just sayin’, buddy.”
“I appreciate the support, but Zoe has a say in the matter, too.”
“So you’re just gonna let it go?”
“You know, we’re headed for a divorce.”
“You guys keep saying that, but no one’s filed.” His friend regarded him for a moment, then said, “You do want the divorce, right?”
“Sure. I mean, Zoe’s the one who really pushed for it, but I agreed.”
“How come I don’t believe you?”
Mitch rubbed his temple. The headache that had abated when he was with Zoe had returned with a vengeance. “I don’t know what to tell you, Wyatt.”
“Now you’re really faking it.”
He sighed. Leaned more heavily on the cane and wished he was anywhere but at a bonfire that transported him back to the refugee camp.
“I have this fleeting memory from before the accident.”
“About what led to the crash?”
“No. Those events are still fuzzy and pulling at me, but this was different. Like something was prompting me to come back and make things right with Zoe.”
“Your subconscious?”
He shrugged. “At this point, I can’t be sure. With everything still mostly a blur, I don’t want to act on what might be pure imagination.”
“And if what you remember is accurate?”
“Then I need to consider Zoe’s feelings. She’s moved on.”
“Tim might not be the right guy for her.”
“And I am? She asked me repeatedly to stay in Cypress Pointe. Or at least limit my travels to within the States. The last thing she said to me was ‘I never want to see you again.’”
Wyatt cringed. “C’mon. She didn’t mean it.”
Mitch rose a shaky hand to rub his temple. Exhausted now, he asked, “Why are you pushing the issue, Wyatt?”
“Because I’m living with the shell of a great guy. I get you have injuries but, man, this thing with Zoe had taken the life out of you. Where’s the guy who was up for anything? The one who’d drag us off on a grand adventure and never look back?”
“Lost in the desert somewhere.”
“Well, you need to find him. Before you lose what you had with Zoe for good.”
“I’m starting to get tired of rehashing this conversation. Zoe doesn’t want to be married to me.”
“She never filed the papers.”
“She thought I was dead. There was no need.”
“You’ve been back a week and she hasn’t brought them to the lawyer.”
Mitch turned to his friend. “And you know that how?”
“Jenna.”
Jenna Monroe. Wyatt’s girlfriend. A former celebrity chef, she’d settled in Cypress Pointe with her adopted twin daughters and captured Wyatt’s heart.
“She and Zoe are friends. After you left, they bonded and if Zoe had indeed filed the papers, Jenna would know.”
“Right now, I’m more concerned with Leo. I want to get to know my son.”
“I get it. The girls certainly changed my life.”
Wyatt’s own son had been killed in a freak boating accident years ago. Mitch hadn’t thought his best friend would ever recover emotionally, or want children again, but Abby and Bridget, along with their mother, had shown Wyatt that old wounds could be healed by the power of love.
“Look, I get you’re a changed man. I’m happy for you. While your path to happiness worked out, I don’t see Zoe and I reconciling.”
“You never were a quitter.”
“And that was the main source of our problems.”
A log snapped in the pit, a final brief flame flaring before the embers died. Much like Mitch’s roller-coaster emotions since returning to town.
“Okay. I’ll lay off.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“I’m going to take Jenna home. Need a lift?”
The prospect of going back to Wyatt’s cottage just to camp out on the porch and obsess over his life didn’t appeal. “Thanks, but I’m going to hang out here a little longer.”
Wyatt gently slapped him on the back. “Call if you need a ride.”
Mitch ground his teeth together and nodded. He hated this helplessness, the need for others to taxi him about.
Maybe his father’s prediction had finally come true.
His stomach in a knot now, he made his way to a bench just out of view from the stragglers still partying by the fire. He lowered himself and heaved out a sigh.
The road to recovery loomed before him, but his patience was beginning to wear thin. Right now, he wanted to race full-speed down the beach, the humid wind against his face, his feet stomping the sand. A way to release the pent-up energy coursing through him. And even if he could? He’d get twenty feet and run out of gas. If he couldn’t run down the beach, what made Wyatt think Mitch could convince Zoe to give them another try?
She had a full life. A job she loved. A child to dote upon. The only hindrance in her life right now was him. She’d been great about helping him out but pretty adamant they had no future. Is that what he wanted for their relationship now?
I never want to see you again.
Words spoken in the heat of an argument. Why had he been so stubborn? And why hadn’t he put her first? Maybe he needed to see a therapist for more than his nonexistent memory. But he remembered the pain in her eyes when she’d thrown those words at him. He’d put it there. He’d been sure he could take off for parts unknown and she’d be okay with it. But she hadn’t been. The truth lay in the scattered ashes of their marriage.
Did he dare wonder if that flash of memory was really accurate? That he had been thinking of a way to make things up to Zoe? First, he questioned himself, what would have caused the turnaround? And second, why had he waited and taken a job that had landed him in danger? Zoe had always been afraid he would get hurt while he’d thought he could laugh off death. Boy, had he been wrong.
He’d pushed his wife and lost.
But now he had a son. Could this be a second chance? And if it was, how would Zoe weigh in?
The image of her walking away with the firefighter twisted his belly. If he were a bigger man, wouldn’t he be happy to see her move on with her life?
The headache moved from his temple to cover his entire head. The more he thought, the worse the pounding became, which brought him back to square one. What did he have to offer her now?
Nothing.
Except vowing to be the best father for Leo.
As he sat under the dark star-filled sky, drinking in the natural beauty surrounding him, he thought, Staying here might not be the worst idea ever. Yes, his years abroad
had given him access, opened many doors for him, but he could use all of that here—everything he’d seen and learned—to do good, and still be close to his son. Much like the way Zoe backed her causes. Maybe if they had something in common, their wounds would heal. And after the healing, they could decide what their future looked like.
There was only one way to find out.
Besides being forever connected by Leo, had fate allowed them a second chance?
Chapter Seven
“GO AHEAD. OPEN IT.”
Mitch looked down at the gaily-decorated box sitting on the coffee table. He’d called first, then stopped by to spend time with Leo, while Zoe attended meetings and took care of her mayoral duties. He found Samantha holding Leo on her hip, practically dragging Mitch inside to show off her surprise.
He knew Samantha enough to recognize what was in the box. You’d think by the way he took a step back it was a box of snakes, but it most likely contained a camera. Just as scary.
Leo squirmed to be let loose. His grandmother lowered him to the carpet where he plopped down. Mitch thought he might cry, but then Leo smiled that toothy grin. Mitch’s heart expanded and he forgot all about the box. He gingerly lowered himself to the floor and met Leo’s gaze on an equal level.
“Hey, buddy.”
Leo tilted his head, glanced up at Samantha, then back to Mitch and inched closer.
Mitch went still as his son placed a chubby hand on his cheek. His chest tightened like a belt twisting tight; he wasn’t sure he was capable of another breath. Love, strong and pure, washed over him and for the first time in months, Mitch thought his future might just be okay.
Deciding Mitch was not a scary stranger, Leo started babbling and before Mitch realized what was happening, dropped into his lap.
Now what did he do?
Samantha laughed. “Just give him a hug, Mitch.”
Taking advice from the expert, Mitch wrapped his arms around Leo and hugged. Leo giggled, resting his head against Mitch’s upper body. His son felt warm and sturdy in his arms. The magical scent of baby powder surrounded him. He inhaled, closed his eyes to savor the miracle of his baby son so close to his heart.
“Feels good,” Samantha whispered.
Mitch had to clear his throat before answering a croaked, “Yes.”