by Jen Talty
“I’m so sorry, sis.”
“You should be.” Shannon adjusted her chair a little closer to the fire. The evening air had chilled her bones, and the day she’d had warranted the five gulps of wine she swallowed without even tasting it. “Curious. When did Mother decide to come here for a visit, and what was the reason she gave you?” She tossed a piece of paper she’d found wadded up in her pocket into the fire. “And why the hell did you believe her?”
“I know you’re upset, but you don’t have to take that tone with me. I didn’t do anything wrong,” Tara said. “You know how Mother gets.”
Shannon dropped her head to the back of the chair. “I know. I’m just tired. I had a bad day at work, and Mom has been a pain in the ass. And your other sister is more like our mother than we are. I’ve gotten ten texts from her today. If she’s so afraid I’ll ruin her fucking bridal party, why the hell did she ask me to be in the wedding in the first place?”
“To appease my dad. He always feels like you get the short end of the stick, and I’d have to agree.”
“Your father is a saint.”
“Amen to that, sister.” Tara raised her glass. “Mom said she was worried about you when she saw you yesterday. That should have been my first clue. But, honestly, sometimes you do get weird on the day your dad died. I know you don’t like to talk about him, but it’s not like I don’t know some of what happened.”
“You were only four years old when he died, and you only met the man a few times.”
“Yeah, but I lived with you, and I remember the bruises. I recall once listening to him tell Mom that you got drunk and fell down the stairs and that she should ground you.”
“I was drunk, but he pushed me,” Shannon admitted, letting out a long sigh. “I wish you didn’t remember those things. That had to be scary for you.” She had opened up to her little sister about some of the abuse because she felt she had to, but she’d kept the worst of it to herself.
Her father was dead. The skeletons were safely tucked away in the closet. There was no point.
“It was at times. But, honestly, I only have a couple of memories like that. Why doesn’t Mom want to admit what happened?” Tara asked. Her voice trembled as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “There are some things about our mother I will never understand.”
“Did Mom do something else?”
Tara shook her head. “Other than being a crazed psycho about Bonnie’s wedding and being a little weirder than usual about the anniversary of your dad’s death, no.”
“Weird how?”
“Yesterday, she started bringing up you and all your problems and what it did to her and my dad, as if that’s what caused your dad’s death.”
If Tara only knew the half of it. “We can’t forget that I didn’t make it easy on Mom or your dad. I was popping pills, doing coke, getting in all sorts of trouble. Mom was terrified of me, and your dad wanted to protect you.” Shannon lifted her feather pendant. When she’d gotten pregnant, her mother had sent her off to a halfway house and told her stepsister that she’d gone to rehab. That wasn’t true. And when she’d come home, she’d gone right back into the insanity of the drug scene.
Of course, her father had helped perpetuate that lie.
But poor Tara had thought Shannon had gone to boarding school, and Shannon would never forget the day she left, listing to Tara scream and cry for her not to go.
“I wish I could have done something.” Tara sipped her wine.
“You were a child, and it was a long time ago. Let’s get back to our current predicament.”
“Right. Mom thought it would be good if I surprised you. I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I thought that would be fun. She insisted on driving and assured me you were excited and couldn’t wait to see me.”
“Since when are you and I incapable of making our own arrangements?”
“Since never. But you’ve been withdrawn lately.”
Shannon pursed her lips. “So have you. And Mom told me about her crazy plan to make Kevin jealous. Why the hell did the two of you break up?”
“We didn’t. We just got into a fight, and we both agreed we needed to cool off.” Tara stood, walking in a circle around the fire, twirling her dark hair.
“I don’t get how she thinks this will work,” Tara said. “First of all, Kevin doesn’t get jealous. And second, we just took a break from each other. He needed some space after the big fight about his potential new job, so we really haven’t called it splitsville. We’re just taking a week to think about what we really want and what that means.”
“Wait. Step back. Kevin got offered a job? But he works for his dad.”
“His father is almost as controlling as Mom. Kevin doesn’t want to be a criminal lawyer, and he got offered a job in Newburgh in the district attorney’s office. He wants to take it.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I’m fine with it. I’ve even put in applications for a couple of schools, but it’s what he did when he told me he took the job that freaked me right the fuck out.”
“Dare I ask?” Shannon loved her little sister, but her dramatics often grated on her nerves.
“He proposed.”
“He what?” Shannon asked, dropping her glass, red wine splattering across her pant leg. Thankfully, the glass didn’t shatter when it hit the grass, but her pants turned a dark red. “Shit.” She kicked her foot, rubbing her hand over her slacks.
“Only you, sis.”
Shannon laughed, pouring more wine. “Did you say yes?”
“Yes, and no. He wants to run off to Vegas. It’s not that I have a problem doing that, but both sets of parents would disown us. I can take Mom being a basket case, but I couldn’t handle both sets of parents being upset.”
“They’d get over it. But the real question is, do you want a big wedding?”
Tara laughed. “Good God, no. If you think Bonnie’s wedding is outrageous, imagine what it would be like with Melinda Cartwright and Charlene Bangal as event coordinators. Kevin and I’d be lost, and it wouldn’t even be about us. It’d be about them.”
“Then I don’t get it. What’s the problem? Elope and deal with the shitstorm later. Unless the move is the issue.”
Tara let out a long sigh. “No. I could get used to anywhere as long as I’m with Kevin, but it all came on so fast.” Tara smiled. “He wants to do it in two months after Bonnie’s wedding. And since he took the job, we’d be moving about the same time.”
“I still don’t get the problem.”
“Besides, he hasn’t told his father about not working for him anymore. I’m more worried about how his parents will take the elopement and him moving all at once. Mom has Dad to help her get over it, and Bonnie always has to be the center of attention, giving our mom something to focus on. But Kevin is an only child, and it will crush his dad.”
Shannon put her hand on Tara’s and squeezed. “You and Kevin have to start setting boundaries when it comes to your parents. If they want to have a relationship with you, then they will come around. Hell, even our mom has gotten better over the years when it comes to me because I don’t let her rule my life.”
“I know. I know.” Tara tossed her hands wide.
“So, does that mean you’re going to go track down Kevin and tell him you’ll run off and never look back?”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Tara snagged her cell from the plastic table. “Holy shit.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve got five texts that say he’s on his way here.”
“Well, his timing is perfect.” Shannon pointed to the car headed down the driveway. “Call me later, okay?”
Tara jumped from her seat and smoothed down her miniskirt. “I love you, sis.”
“Right back at you.”
Shannon pulled Tara in for a hug. She held her longer than usual. She’d never been a touchy-feely kind of girl, but it was time she started making some changes in her life and being a better sister wa
s a good place to start. “Let’s have lunch one day next week. Just the two of us.”
“I’d like that.”
Shannon wrapped her arms around her middle as she watched her sister leap into Kevin’s arms. She smiled as the young couple kissed passionately. In spite of their mother, Tara had grown up well, and Shannon was thrilled that she and Kevin would be getting out of their parents’ grips and living their lives.
Their way.
She fingered the pendant hanging from her neck.
Freedom.
She turned and stared at the Sweet Freedom rocking gently in the dark waters of Lake George. The moon cast a glow on the tall mast. There was a time in her life when Shannon enjoyed being on the water and feeling the wind in her face. The feeling when the captain cut the engine, the sails filled, heeling, making the boat take flight across the water.
“You’re deep in thought,” Jackson said as he looped his arm around her waist.
She jumped, knocking his beer out of his hand. It flipped and sizzled, spewing the liquid over the fire and him. “Shit. I hate it when people sneak up on me.”
He took a step back, holding his hands to the air. “Sorry. I assumed you heard my door slam shut.”
“Please, just don’t do that to me again.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Now, do you want to sit out here by the fire and talk or go inside?”
She deserved his curtness and then some. The only excuse she had was the day had been long and hard, and all she really wanted was a hot bath and another glass of wine.
“Out here is good.”
“All right. Let me get myself another beer.” As if he’d read her mind, he lifted her wine glass and filled it. “Need a blanket?”
She nodded, curling her fingers around his muscular biceps. “I’m sorry. I could list a plethora of excuses for my behavior—”
He pressed his finger over her lips. “It’s okay. I was rude, and I’m sorry, too. Give me five minutes.”
Dropping her hand, she blinked, trying to break his searing stare. He looked at her with forgiveness behind his dark, questioning eyes. It was if she were the only thing that mattered. She swallowed. Being the center of attention hadn’t ever been something she desired. If anything, she preferred to be a wallflower.
He ran his finger over her cheek.
Her chest heaved as she tried to take a deep breath.
“I think it’s you who’s the enigma,” he whispered, right before he pressed his hot lips over her mouth.
For a second, every muscle tensed into a tight ball of nerves. She gripped his shirt, needing to push him away but wanting to draw him closer. Her brain screamed at her that getting involved with him romantically would only end with one of them getting hurt.
Probably, her hurting him.
However, as his tongue slipped between her lips, and her body relaxed into his, she realized that he could break her heart if she let him in too deeply. He was the kind of man little girls dreamed of marrying, and grown-up women searched for in all the wrong places.
“Jackson,” she said, prying her mouth from his. She rested her hands on his chest. “Where did that come from?”
He arched a brow. “You don’t think it’s been brewing for a while?”
In all her adult life, no liaison she’d ever had with a man had percolated. There had been maybe four men that she could have considered herself being in a relationship with, and all of them had been superficial. The last one, Jared, a man she’d met in her PhD program, had been sweet and kind, and he had a huge heart, but she could never truly give herself to him. And after nearly a year, he’d called it quits. Last she’d heard, he’d gotten engaged a few months ago.
“I’ve spent most of my life buried in schoolwork and then defending my dissertation and building my career. Having a man in my life hasn’t been a priority.”
“What does that have to do with the fact that we’re attracted to each other now.”
She opened her mouth but snapped it shut.
“I’d like to take you out on a real date.”
“My stepsister is getting married in two weeks, would you like to go with me?”
He arched a brow. “I’d love to.”
“I was kidding.”
“I’m not. I’d enjoy it. Now, let me get myself a beer, and then I need to change the subject to business.”
“Sounds like a plan. But before we do that, I need to make something clear. I’m going solo to my sister’s wedding. I shouldn’t have joked about that. My family is insane, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I’ll hold the date, just in case you change your mind.” He turned and headed toward the door.
She watched his ass flex against the fabric of his pants that clung to him like a wetsuit, detailing every muscle. Letting out an audible sigh, she eased into the chair and poked the fire with a stick. The flames snapped like fireflies toward the star-filled sky.
She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of the evening—the cars revving on the street above. Boat engines humming on the lake below. Anything to get Jackson out of her head.
“I’m coming out of the house now,” Jackson called.
“Thanks for the heads-up.” She waved her hand over the chair as if she were giving him the white flag of surrender.
“I need to ask you some questions about the adoption. I probably should have had you come into the office versus ruining the ambiance here—”
“I spend all day in an office. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to discuss this anywhere but your place of work.”
“I can respect that,” he said, holding a packet of papers on his lap. “I’ve got all the un-identifying information on you and your daughter.”
“What does that mean?”
“It has all of your medical information at the time of the adoption. It’s the history you provided to the hospital about family, and a write-up about your general appearance, race, religion, as taken at the time of the adoption.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that.” She took the papers he handed and flipped through them.
“You wouldn’t. But it’s given to the adoptive parents and then sits in the registry. If anyone comes looking for you, the father, or the child, the records get pinged.”
She dropped the document. The breeze kicked up, taking it into the fire. “Shit.”
“I’ve got another copy,” Jackson said. “Are you always this klutzy?”
“I am.” She swallowed. “Can you tell if my daughter came looking for me?”
“That’s the beauty of a closed adoption. It protects both party’s privacy but allows for a mutual meeting.”
“Jesus Christ. Will you just answer my question?”
“I’m trying,” he said, slipping on a pair of eyeglasses, letting them rest on the bridge of his nose. “New York State uses a confidential intermediary program. If your daughter went looking for you, then once you enter the registry, she will be notified and be given whatever information you consented to.”
“I really don’t want to interrupt her life. And I don’t want to meet her. So, is there a way to locate her without sending up a smoke signal?”
“That would be a lot harder and costly. You don’t have to give your contact information on the registry. But you will have to give full birth name and proof of the adoption.”
“You have the birth certificate they gave me before the adoption.”
He nodded. “You named her Carly. Was there a reason for the name?”
“It means a woman who has her freedom,” she said, turning her head. The tears stung the corners of her dry eyes.
“Did you know that when you gave it to her?”
She nodded.
“I guess now I understand why you didn’t like my boat’s name.”
He hadn’t a clue, and he never would. “I know it’s not really her name. She’s probably never heard it before.” Shannon clutched her necklace. Her heart filled her chest with
one pounding beat after the other.
“Are you okay?” His warm hand squeezed her knee.
“It’s been a long time since I heard the name I gave her, much less talked about that time in my life.” She swiped at her cheeks. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“Do you want to stop?”
“No. I need to know.”
“All right. What about her father? You have him listed as unknown.”
She let out a sarcastic laugh. “And you think I lied about that.”
“I didn’t say that. But it’s one more avenue to go looking for her.”
“Well, I honestly don’t know who the father is. Go ahead, judge that.” The shame, guilt, rage, and confusion billowed to the surface like a tree being yanked from the ground during a tornado.
“You need to stop that. There is no room for me taking your inventory in this case. I agreed to do this for you because I believe in you and your reasons. Now, if you want to make my job a little easier, could you tell me who the potential father could be?”
“It doesn’t matter. No one but my parents knew I was pregnant. Not even the boys I’d been sleeping with.”
“You can’t be totally sure of that.”
“I can be, and unless you can’t find her at all without that information, which I highly doubt, I’d rather not utter those names.”
Ted Ratler.
Alex Angler.
Chad Roaming.
Rodger Williams.
Borden Cox.
She’d never forget their names. Their faces. Their laughter.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled as if the Tartan boat grew a pair of eyes and stared her down. They’d all been adults. Even Borden and Alex, who were both barely twenty-one at the time. Still, they should have known better.
They were all drunk and high on coke, but that didn’t mean she’d consented.
Or that the men hadn’t paid her father in some way for her services.
“This is hard for me because I consider you a friend, so I wouldn’t normally ask this question.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” His sweet voice glided over her old wounds like a medicated Band-Aid.