One Perfect Summer

by Brenda Novak

  “It’s not just about finances. Wouldn’t my child deserve to know her father?”

  “In a perfect world, yes. But in my opinion, no father is better than a bad father—if the child has a good mother. And this one will.”

  Reagan clung to her phone as she stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes, big and hollow, looked like a stranger’s—a panicked stranger. She’d been raised without a father, didn’t want the same thing for her child. But maybe, as Rally had said, it would’ve been different if she’d had a more sensitive and caring mother. If Rosalind hadn’t been so strict and busy all the time, Reagan wouldn’t have longed for someone else.

  Would she be a loving parent? Or would she resent her child, see him or her as a nuisance, dead weight she had to carry, the way her own mother had?

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to pull herself together. “Why are you even talking to me, Rally?” she asked. “You barely know me. It would be easy for you to walk away. Any other guy would.”

  “Reagan, if I only chose people who have no problems to be my friends, I’d have no friends.”

  He was being so kind. She wished she could allow his words to comfort her. But she was afraid to rely on them—on him. She knew from experience that she had to rely on herself.

  “Thanks. Listen, I hear Lucy so Lorelei must be back,” she lied. “I’d better go.”

  “I’ll call you later?” he said.

  “You don’t have to,” she replied and disconnected. Then she stuffed the packaging from her tests back in the brown paper sack, which she scrunched up so it’d look empty, and threw it away.

  She didn’t want her sisters to know. She had a lot of decisions to make before she told anyone else.

  20

  serenity

  THE DRIVE TO Berkeley had been quick and easy. The weather was pleasant, the roads clear. There wouldn’t be heavy traffic on Westbound 80 until Sunday night, when the visitors from Sacramento and the Bay Area had to return for work on Monday. Then it could get backed up for miles.

  In an effort to keep her mind off seeing Sawyer again, she listened to a podcast on writing the entire way. She knew Reagan, Lorelei and Lucy would’ve been happy to tag along and keep her company. They’d expressed an interest in seeing her house, and she planned to show it to them. But since they’d be with her all summer—meaning there’d be other chances—she hadn’t invited them on this particular trip. She’d made it sound as though she had to take care of some business so she could meet Sawyer alone. She preferred her sisters not be around when he arrived. Seeing him was going to be awkward enough without having to introduce two family members he never knew she had, especially since she couldn’t explain where they’d come from.

  She decided she wouldn’t mention them at all. She’d find those pictures of Sean for her ex-mother-in-law, get them returned and, in the process, say what she felt she needed to say to Sawyer. Then she’d drive back to the cabin, where she’d show Reagan and Lorelei the letter she’d discovered in her mother’s old jewelry box.

  She’d been putting that off, hadn’t wanted them to immediately assume she’d found the answer. It wasn’t an answer she was happy to accept. But this was the only lead they had, and if Uncle Vance was really her father, she figured she might as well face it. Solving the mystery might lead to greater problems, but at least they’d understand how they were connected and could go from there.

  “Really, though? Uncle Vance?” she muttered but managed to rein in her disgust when her mother called. Her father got on the phone after Charlotte to say hello and tell her he missed her, and she felt she did an admirable job of acting as though nothing had changed. She had good parents; she couldn’t deny that. So how Lorelei and Reagan could’ve appeared out of nowhere didn’t make any sense.

  Maybe after she’d taken care of Sean’s pictures and Sawyer was gone, she’d call her uncle while she was at the Berkeley house alone and try to devise a clever way to get some information out of him—if he had any information to give. She supposed it was possible he didn’t know they were more closely related than niece and uncle. For that matter, it was possible even her mother didn’t know. If Charlotte had been sleeping with both men at the same time, how would she?

  Maybe that was how Charlotte had been able to distance herself from Vance. It could be that she’d slipped up once or twice, regretted her actions and refused to even consider the possibility that her pregnancy could be the result of those encounters when she’d been with her husband much more often.

  The whole thing turns my stomach.

  After she parked, she checked the time on her phone before climbing out and grabbing her overnight bag. She hadn’t left the cabin as early as she’d intended. Lucy had asked for pancakes, so she’d stayed to make them for her. She’d wanted to let Lorelei sleep in for a change. And Reagan wasn’t feeling well, so she couldn’t help with breakfast. Last night she’d said she had a terrible headache—hadn’t even gone to Finn’s when Serenity, Lucy and Lorelei headed over with dinner.

  Serenity was glad she’d spent that time with her niece. It had been a nice morning. But now she had only a few hours until Sawyer arrived, and she planned to do some cleaning and organizing. She’d been so stressed about missing her deadline, and so depressed in the aftermath of Sean’s trial and all it had cost her financially and emotionally, that for all those months, she’d made herself stay on her computer instead of doing anything else, even though the words wouldn’t come, and she’d invariably switch over to social media to feel she was being productive.

  As she opened the door to her little Victorian on Cedar Street, she was glad she’d given herself time to get it straightened up. Her former self would never have left it in such a mess. But going to Tahoe—staying there—had already done her a world of good. She was writing again. The relief that brought could not be overstated. Her editor had replied just this morning with a terse message letting her know that the publisher had agreed to move the release of All Gone to the following June, one year away.

  She had the second chance she’d been hoping for. She planned to make the most of it, cling to that opportunity to the exclusion of all else, if necessary. She had to get back to building her career, find the confident, successful person she used to be and become that person once again.

  Maybe she should sell this house, she thought as she put down her bag and closed the door. There were too many memories associated with it. None of Sean’s belongings were here anymore, with the possible exception of that childhood stuff Nina was going on about. Sawyer had boxed them up and taken them away. But Sean had been the one to find this place. They’d purchased and furnished it together. She’d never forget how excited they’d been when their offer was accepted and how they’d celebrated their first night in their new home. It was only a few years after that, once they’d felt more settled in their careers, that they’d started talking about having kids.

  Had he already been viewing and selling child pornography at that point?

  She tried to think back five years, when they’d bought the house—and came up empty. There was nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary. But if it hadn’t started then, when had it started? And why? What could’ve transformed someone who’d seemed to be such a warm and caring person into the worst kind of predator?

  Sean had been so intent on denying that he’d ever done anything wrong he wouldn’t answer the questions that burned uppermost in her mind—how, when and why. Not honestly, anyway.

  Most criminals didn’t care that they left their loved ones in turmoil, with no closure, the detective who’d investigated Sean’s case had told her. And Sean had proved him right. No matter how many times Serenity had implored her husband to talk to her, to help her understand, he’d just continued to deny it. He’d also tried to make her feel he was innocent and her insistence that he wasn’t cut him more deeply than she could imagine.


  It was all about his suffering, not the suffering he’d caused. According to the detective, narcissism was another trait common among pedophiles. Dealing with Sean had made Serenity a believer.

  With a heartfelt sigh, she went around the house, opening the windows. It was a gorgeous day—mild and breezy—and the house needed to be aired out. She didn’t want Sawyer to realize how badly off she’d been, that depression had taken such deep root she’d barely been able to pull her laptop into bed with her in the mornings.

  She dusted and vacuumed, changed the linens on her bed and washed all the blankets. Sawyer wouldn’t see her room—there was nothing of Sean’s left in there—but knowing she had a clean house to return to might make it easier to face coming home after the summer.

  Or maybe she’d take some photographs before heading back to the cabin in the morning. They’d be helpful if she decided to put the house up for sale while she was away. She didn’t need to be around in order to do that; it would actually be easier if she wasn’t. A Realtor could deal with all the showings. Then she could find a different house in Berkeley, or maybe even San Francisco, and start over. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wouldn’t move too far from Tahoe. Going there meant too much to her.

  After she’d finished cleaning, she went out to buy a few groceries. The least she could do was feed Sawyer while he was over. She didn’t cook often, but her mother was excellent in the kitchen and had taught her a few meals she prepared whenever she entertained. She made excellent baba ghanoush—her mother had always grown eggplant. With pita bread for dipping, it would make a delicious starter, after which she’d serve a vegetable and tofu stir-fry. Paired with a nice wine and followed by a ready-made peach tart from Whole Foods, the meal should be a good one—a modest thank-you for Sawyer’s time. After tonight, she’d feel she’d done at least one small thing to repay him for everything he did during the trial.

  She jumped into the shower after she received a text saying he’d be over by four.

  Dressed in a pair of flowing, wide-legged pants with a short midriff-bearing sweater, she was stirring the tofu to make sure each piece was getting covered by the marinade when she heard his knock.

  He was here. Her pulse quickened at the thought. She had no idea why. She hadn’t seen him for a while, but why would that make any difference?

  She quickly covered the dish and went to the door.

  He had his back to her when she first saw him through the window. He was leaning up against the pillar of her porch, gazing out at the rest of the neighborhood, and he was dressed far more casually than she was in a T-shirt and pair of faded jeans.

  She realized she might’ve overdressed, but it was too late to change now.

  Hearing the bolt move, he turned, and she caught her breath. Although she’d never allowed herself to acknowledge how attractive he was while she was married to Sean, she couldn’t help acknowledging it now. She saw that he’d just showered; his blond hair was slightly damp and curling around his ears and at the nape of his neck, and she could smell a hint of cologne.

  “Hello,” she said.

  His eyes lowered, studying her slowly, before rising to her face. “You look good,” he responded, as direct as ever.

  “So do you,” she admitted.

  She held the door as an invitation for him to come in, and he turned sideways to slip past her without knocking into her. “You’re doing well, then?” he asked.

  “I’m doing better. I’ve managed to start writing again.”

  He peered at her more closely. “I didn’t realize that had become a problem.”

  “Not a big problem,” she lied. “Like I said, I’m back at it now. My publisher has agreed to move my latest book to June of next year, so...that’s lucky.” Why was she saying too much?

  There was just something about him that unnerved her. And because he didn’t fill the silence, she ended up revealing far more than she intended.

  “You missed your deadline?”

  She opened her mouth to deny it—to make her job situation sound less dire—but ultimately figured there was no point in pretending. “Basically,” she admitted with a shrug.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just...couldn’t function properly. If I’m not careful, Sean will cost me my career along with everything else. But, like I said, this week has been better,” she quickly added.

  “This week,” he repeated.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s been eighteen months since you found those files.”

  “But only six since he was sentenced,” she said, feeling a bit defensive.

  He continued to study her. “Is he in touch with you?”

  “I hear from him now and then.”

  “Email?”

  “Snail mail.”

  “What does he say?”

  “I quit reading his letters months ago. In the last one I read, he was begging me to remarry him—said there’d never be anyone like me.”

  His upper lip curled. “I hope you weren’t tempted.”

  “Not in the least. I wish I’d never married him in the first place.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “I haven’t bothered to write him back. What’s the point? I don’t want to become pen pals. I don’t want anything to do with him ever again.”

  He grunted but didn’t look away. She could tell he was trying to determine how committed she was to that statement.

  She cleared her throat. “Do you ever hear from him?”

  “Nope. Hasn’t written me once.”

  “He blames you for our divorce. You know that, right?”

  He reared back in surprise. “Me?”

  “He thinks he would’ve been able to convince me he was innocent, if not for your support.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. “Actually, you did. I wouldn’t have gotten through the trial without you. I know I’ve never admitted that, but...I want to thank you.”

  Their eyes met and, for a moment, Serenity couldn’t breathe. She told herself it was profound gratitude that was causing her to react to him the way she was. He’d always believed her, from the beginning. His faith had never wavered. When everyone else was drilling her or trying to make her look unreliable or out to get Sean, he simply stood behind her.

  “Why did you make that choice?” she asked. “Why did you remain so firm and steadfast? It obviously wasn’t a good thing for you, considering how your family reacted.”

  “You mean his family?”

  “They’re your family, too. The only family you have.”

  A muscle moved in his cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

  “His parents didn’t believe me. Your other brothers didn’t believe me. They all blame me for ruining his life.”

  “He ruined his own life.”

  “It’s been futile trying to convince them of that. I’m surprised you don’t hate me, too. After all, I’m the one who found those pictures on Sean’s computer. I’m the one who contacted the police. I started the whole thing.”

  “You did. And you wouldn’t let it go, no matter how much pressure he, his family and his lawyers put on you. You hung in there and refuted all his lies, and you didn’t let your love for him or fear of being alone or anything else blind you. As far as I’m concerned, that makes you one of the bravest people I know.”

  She wanted to slip her arms around his waist and rest her cheek against his solid chest. He seemed strong enough to carry the entire world on his shoulders. Maybe that was why she’d always been so careful to keep her distance. He tempted her to lean on him, which frightened her at the same time as it appealed to her. “Even though it cost us both so much?”

  “It got a predator off the streets, didn’t it? Fighting th
at sort of thing is a battle, which means some people are going to get hurt. We can’t always expect it to be someone else.”

  She nodded. “Right. I look at it that way, too. When I can,” she added lamely.

  He glanced around the house. “Have you started dating again?”

  “No. Much to my mother’s disappointment, since it means I can’t give her any grandchildren. But I’m not ready for that yet.”

  His gaze swept over her again. “Really? Because this sort of looks like a date.” He leaned closer, his nose almost touching her neck. “Smells like a date, too.”

  She felt herself flush with embarrassment. She’d definitely overprepared to see him. “What? It’s not a date—”

  “Because you’re still in love with Sean?”

  “No! Because I’m still too burned by him. Trust has become a big issue for me.”

  “Not all men are like Sean, Serenity.”

  “But how to tell the difference. That’s the thing.”

  He stepped closer, watching her the whole time as if daring her to hold her ground. “You trust me, don’t you?”

  She didn’t retreat, but she narrowed her eyes, feigning skepticism. “In what way?”

  “I would hope in every way,” he replied and lifted her chin with one finger as he lowered his head.

  He was going to kiss her. Serenity felt a moment of panic. She hadn’t been touched by a man in a year and a half, since before she found those stomach-churning files on Sean’s computer. And this was Sawyer, Sean’s stepbrother. He was off-limits, wasn’t he?

  Or...maybe her mother was right. Maybe he wasn’t off-limits anymore. After what Sean had done to her, she didn’t owe him anything. She didn’t owe Sean’s family anything, either.

  She was divorced, a free woman.

  She assumed Sawyer was unattached, too, or he wouldn’t be doing this.

  Still, she was afraid it would be weird—until his mouth covered hers and all she could think about was the delicious taste of him. He’d always been so determined and tough and demanding. That was the perception she’d had of him, anyway.