Hope Heals

by Tymber Dalton

  Last time she’d seen them, they’d barely been two feet tall.

  Home.

  Some things had changed.

  She let her foot off the brake and slowly rolled the box truck over the rough dips where the dirt driveway met the road and through the gate. Then she let the truck roll down the rutted sand driveway without touching the gas.

  The familiar curve in the driveway came up before she spotted all the lights on at the front of the house. Her dad’s pick-up truck, the same old one he’d had since before she was in junior high, sat under the carport.

  He walked out before she got the truck shut off. When she climbed out and rounded the front of the cab to get Jason, her dad held his arms open to her.

  As she had that day when he’d unexpectedly shown up at the hospital, she fell into his embrace and started crying.

  Chapter Three

  Jason barely stirred when she got him out of the truck. Her dad carried the pillows and opened the front door for her. He led her through the house to what used to be the guest room.

  Inside, the room had been mostly emptied. A new queen-sized air mattress made up with sheets lay on the floor, and a floor lamp cast a glow from the corner.

  “You did bring his furniture, right?” Other than a hutch she’d bought for herself while in college, and a couple other odds and ends, Jason’s bedroom furniture was the only furniture she’d kept.

  The rest, especially things she’d bought with or for Michael, she’d sold for whatever she could get at the estate sale.

  “Yeah.” She carefully laid him on the air mattress while her dad put the pillows down. She kissed Jase on the forehead before pulling the sheet up and following her dad out.

  He turned off the light and left the door cracked open.

  “We can unload in the morning.”

  “I need to get some stuff out of the cab.”

  She walked back out and grabbed her purse, cell phone, and the overnight bag. After dumping it all in the room that had once been and was again her bedroom, she joined her dad in the kitchen.

  He set out two large water glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. After dumping ice in both glasses, he poured himself a couple of fingers, poured her some as well, and handed her a glass. She normally wasn’t a drinker, and her father knew that.

  But tonight, she knew she needed something to help numb the crushing pain threatening to well up now that she was safely home.

  He raised his glass. “To new beginnings, sweetheart.”

  She managed a smile that, while tired, didn’t feel forced. “Amen, Daddy.” They lightly clinked glasses.

  The bourbon burned all the way down, but she didn’t mind in the least.

  He led her over to the living room, where only two table lamps lit the space, leaving it mostly in shadows. Then he heavily lowered himself into his recliner while she took a spot on the couch and swirled her drink over the ice.

  “What else do I need to know?” he softly asked.

  She told him her revelation at dinner. About what Jason had revealed Roger said. Told him about the new texts from Isabella.

  “I never did like that Yankee witch,” he softly said. “I could tell at the wedding she looked down her nose at us. Her stupid comments about how ‘quaint’ everything was. Like she was surprised we had indoor plumbing and a pool.” He let out a disgusted snort before taking another drink.

  They’d held the wedding at her parents’ home. Sarah couldn’t imagine a more perfect place than down by the lake, in the shade of the large oak trees with a cool breeze blowing in off the water. Isabella had helpfully volunteered to pay for it to be held over in St. Pete, on the beach, with the reception in a swanky hotel, but Sarah had put her foot down.

  All her life, she’d dreamed about getting married there.

  Now…

  Other than Jason, her fairy tale had shredded into a nightmare she couldn’t escape. In it, her son had been the only bright spot resulting from her union with Michael.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll get you unloaded,” he declared. “I went and got the tags renewed on your mom’s car, got it started, changed the oil in it, put new tires on it. It’s running fine. I’ve been starting it up several times a year. I run it up and down the road a few times just to keep it from going totally to pot. Put it and you back on my insurance.”

  Her eyes teared up as she took another sip. Not from the alcohol, but from the memories. Her dad hadn’t been able to get rid of her mom’s Toyota after her death, and hadn’t had the heart to drive it, either. It had sat, covered, in the safety of the larger barn that housed his tractors.

  “Thank you, Daddy.” She closed her eyes and pressed the heel of her free hand against her forehead. She felt like her entire life lately had been composed of tears and pain. Her life of just a little over two weeks ago felt a lifetime away.

  In a way, that was the absolute truth. She was a whole new person now.

  Wiser, sadder.

  Angrier.

  “Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad to have you both home where you belong. I always did worry about you up there. I know you can take care of yourself. I just worried he couldn’t take care of you.”

  Something else Sarah had noticed. In the time he’d spent with her in New York, her father, not once, had said Michael’s name. He’d only referred to him as “he” or “him” or “your husband” or “that man.”

  Taking a deep breath, she put her hand down and looked at him. He stared at his glass as he slowly swirled the contents, first in one direction, then the other.

  “You were right about that,” she said. “I thought he was, but he wasn’t.”

  He nodded.

  She took a deep breath. “And thank you for not saying ‘see, I told you so.’”

  A faint smile curled his lips. “Who says I didn’t say it in my head a thousand times?”

  Sarah raggedly laughed. “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she managed through another bout of tears that she barely held back. “I’m sorry I let him do this to me. I’m sorry I let him keep me from you and Mom. I should have been down here more.”

  He shifted his weight back and to the side in his chair. “Nothing you could have done. Doctors said she was dead before she hit the ground.” He rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m just glad it happened in the backyard and not while she was out driving or something, where she could have hurt someone else. Or in front of a room full of students.”

  Her father was, if nothing else, extremely practical.

  He wasn’t finished. “She died in the place she loved best. She’d just finished her morning coffee down at the lake and was walking back to the house to work in her studio.” He took another sip. “We’d had a nice talk over breakfast. I’d headed out to the barn to work on my old Ford tractor and kissed her and told her I loved her. She told me she loved me.”

  He stared into his glass. “So those were the last words we said to each other.” His gaze shifted to her.

  “Am I a horrible person,” she softly asked, “to be glad he’s dead?”

  “No, sweetheart. You’re a woman grieving the husband you thought you had.” He wryly smiled. “It’s probably a good thing he died. If he’d survived and I found out what he did, I’d have fucking killed him myself if you hadn’t beaten me to it already.”

  She knew he wasn’t kidding, either. Her father rarely dropped the F-bomb. When he did, it indicated the depths of his rage.

  “I just wish Jase’s last memory of his dad wasn’t the jerk screaming his head off at someone.” She let out a snort. “Or his head being taken off. I wish he couldn’t remember the accident at all.”

  He slowly nodded again. “I know. I talked to the guidance counselor over at Hammond Elementary today. She said she’ll help him as much as she can, and can refer us to outside professionals if we need it.”

  “It’s summer.”

  “Staff is there. School starts in less than four weeks.” He laughe
d. “You have been up north too long. Remember, school starts before Labor Day down here. I already got his paperwork done. He’s enrolled and I spoke with his teacher. He’ll be in the same class as Dana’s two hellions.” But he smiled when he called them that.

  Her cousin, Dana, had twins, a boy and a girl, just three months older than Jason.

  Jason had never met them.

  She stared at him before laughing. “That’s what you had them notarize at the bank that day.” She’d been in so deep of an emotional shock, between Michael’s death, the revealed secrets, and Jason’s medical condition, that she’d let her father walk her through the process and signed whatever he’d put in front of her.

  He nodded. “One of the things. That’s why I brought his school and vaccination records home with me.”

  “I just thought you wanted to keep them safe.”

  “That, too. I also have a form naming me as his guardian in addition to you. There was a basic will in there, too, by the way, naming me his guardian and your executor. And a power of attorney. That way, if anything happens to you, Isabella can’t take him from me.” His expression darkened. “I won’t lie to you. I’d be surprised if Isabella doesn’t try to start shit. File for visitation or something like that.”

  Sarah knew some people might be outraged over learning all of that, what he’d had her sign, and might even feel taken advantage of. But that her dad had the presence of mind to think of all of that at a time when she could barely function made her love him all the more.

  “I’m not letting Jason go anywhere with that woman. She’s got a house in Italy. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to run with him.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I have his passport locked in my gun safe with the other paperwork, isn’t it?” His smile broadened a little.

  “You’re something else, Daddy.”

  “She might be some rich bitch from New York, but she’s not smarter than me.” He nodded. “She wants a fight, she’ll have one on her hands. You are his mother. We need to get your driver’s license and voter registration changed as soon as possible to establish residency. Then she’s got to file paperwork down here if she wants to try to get visitation because this is his residence. We’ll drain her bank account dry taking her through court.”

  He grinned. “One of the guys in my car club, John Collins, his daughter, Lucy, is a family attorney in Tampa. High-dollar attorney. She handles stuff for the Bucs, the Lightning, politicians, all of that.”

  He pointed a finger at her. “And before you say you can’t afford it, she’s already agreed to represent you pro bono, court costs only. She’s also a fucking barracuda. She’ll tie Isabella up in court for years. By the time that woman gets any kind of a ruling, she’ll either be broke, or Jason will be over eighteen.”

  Now the picture became even clearer. “You researched all that, didn’t you?”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “Like I said, she’s not smarter than me. The fact that she thinks she’s smarter than me and you will be her undoing. Who do you think faxed me all the paperwork I needed for you to sign?” There was that playful grin again.

  She threw her head back against the sofa and groaned. “I can’t take anymore of Isabella’s bullshit right now. I need to decompress. I need to help Jase get through this. I need to get my computers set up and get back up and running and find a part-time job to supplement my income.”

  “You already have one.”

  She lifted her head. “What?”

  That smile again. “You start in a couple of days as a part-time bookkeeper for the Hopes, Sam and Pete, for their landscaping business.”

  Those names sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place them immediately. “Husband and wife?”

  He looked confused. “No, they’re guys.”

  “Oh. Are they a couple, then?”

  He frowned. “A couple of what?”

  She stared at her dad, thinking either he was really naïve, or she’d totally missed something. “Okay, sorry. I must be really tired and the booze has me confused. Who, exactly, are Sam and Pete Hope?”

  “Cousins. You went to school with them.”

  Now it clicked into place. “Oh. Yeah. I didn’t really know them then.” But from what she could remember, they’d both been cute. Way out of her league, at the time.

  “That’s what they said. Well, their bookkeeper just moved. You can do everything online from here at the house. They live next door.”

  “I’m not a bookkeeper.”

  “All you have to do is enter the payments they get and track who’s current and who still owes, and the time sheet information for payroll. They’ll give you their expense receipts to input. At the end of the year, they said they take the data to their CPA to handle. So it’s pretty easy.”

  “You realize I’m never going to doubt or question you ever again in my entire life, right, Daddy?”

  Now his smile widened. “I appreciate that, sweetheart.”

  * * * *

  They finished their drinks and he retired to his bedroom. That left her alone, meaning she could get a bath and go to bed. Exhaustion tightly gripped her system, and she now felt a little loose from the liquor, but she needed to soak for a while in the tub to help ease her aching muscles.

  She grabbed her overnight bag and took it into the bathroom. It hadn’t changed from when she was a kid, the white sink, toilet, and tub with a shower offset by a handmade light oak cabinet with a tiled counter, with white and black subway tiles on the floor.

  Her mom had liked it because she could swap out accessories in any color she wanted and change the look without a makeover. It was clean, functional, and attractive.

  And right now, despite missing her large master bath at the Long Island townhouse, it was a very welcomed sight.

  She’d unpack all her toiletries in the morning. For now, she just dumped everything on the counter and settled into the tub of hot water with a sigh.

  Heaven.

  At least one worry was now off her plate with having the part-time job already lined up. She could do simple bookkeeping. Hell, she had to do that much for her own business.

  In retrospect, she wished she’d put her foot down early on about handing the household finances instead of letting Michael do it. But he’d convinced her with his training and job, he was the natural one for that. She’d put herself on a budget for their household expenses and used her business’ income to handle the extras for Jason, such as swim lessons and things like that.

  Self-imposed budget skills would come in handy now, but they’d allowed Michael the ability to easily fool her and keep stringing her along, because he knew how much he had to come up with for her for expenses every month.

  Never again. I’ll never give a guy control of my money ever again.

  Well, except for her father. He obviously had a better head on his shoulders than she did.

  Not that a romantic relationship was anywhere in her distant future, much less her near one. She had two men in her life, Jason and her father, and they would be the center of her universe for the foreseeable future.

  In fact, spending the rest of her life alone sounded like a pretty good deal when she looked back at all the grief her husband had cost her.

  She’d been devastated when she’d received the visit from the state troopers telling her about the accident.

  Frantic, scared.

  The only reason she’d held it together was for Jason.

  Then she hadn’t been able to get in touch with Isabella and the others immediately, the whole family out for the weekend in the Hamptons, or out on a friend’s yacht, or…somewhere. Some big family shindig Michael had told her they wouldn’t attend because he didn’t want Jason missing his swim meet the next day.

  At the time, she’d thought it was touching that he’d wanted to put his son first.

  Alone in the hospital waiting room that morning, desperate, lost, she’d broken down and called her father.

  He’d list
ened for a moment, asked her a couple of questions, and told her to stay right there.

  Seven hours later, when none of the d’Antonios had even called her back yet, Walter Heckman, a man who hated flying with a passion and usually refused to do it, had walked into the ICU waiting room, a carry-on bag slung over his shoulder.

  That’s when she’d broken down, sobbing in his arms.

  Jason suffered a broken arm and a ruptured spleen, in addition to bumps and bruises, but he’d made it through surgery fine and would spend the night in the ICU before being transferred to a room.

  And her dad had stayed by Jason’s side for two solid days, rarely sleeping, making Sarah go home to shower and, somehow, deal with Isabella and the funeral arrangements.

  When Sarah had tried to pay for the lavish funeral Isabella and her family insisted on, that’s when the first large bomb had dropped. She hadn’t quite understood what the funeral director meant when he apologetically returned with her credit card and said it wouldn’t work…followed by three more that wouldn’t work.

  Isabella’s haughty derision when she’d whipped out her checkbook to pay for it. Isabella had even tried to get Walt thrown out of Jason’s hospital room, but Sarah had, in an amazing show of sudden backbone on her part, put her foot down and threatened to have Isabella banned from the hospital.

  Only her daddy had silently sat there and held Sarah while she grieved not only her husband, but the man she thought her husband was.

  And then to discover Isabella invited Michael’s mistress to the funeral, who Sarah hadn’t even known about, was the final straw.

  Sarah had numbly shut down, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the study as she watched her father use a tire iron to pry open Michael’s locked file cabinet on the first night Jason was home from the hospital and soundly asleep in his own bed.

  She’d mentally retreated into a dark, lonely place, watching as her father had kept his expression neutral and started laying papers out on the desk.