Hope Heals (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  They spent a few more minutes chatting before Sarah ended the call. She sat there staring at her phone, knowing there were more calls she should make to people but she didn’t have the energy to make them.

  Screw it. I’m tired and filthy and need a shower.

  She left the phone on the shelf. After finding herself clean clothes, she headed for the bathroom. She thought about taking another long soak, but suspected she might fall asleep in the tub if she did that.

  Unfortunately, standing under the spray left her with too much time alone with her thoughts. She knew from dealing with her mom’s death that grief was a process. It seemed, however, that with Michael’s death she’d skipped every other stage and gone straight for anger.

  Not just anger, but all-out rage.

  If I’d found out all this shit while he was alive, I would have killed him.

  Well, not literally. She would have divorced his ass, however. Of course, he’d probably suspected that, which was why he’d gone so far as to have a secret PO Box she knew nothing about until he died.

  Another of the discoveries when her dad had broken into the locked file cabinet. She didn’t know or care where the key to the file cabinet was, but it hadn’t been on his key ring or in his desk.

  How many other affairs had he engaged in while they were together? How many of the “late nights” he’d worked were actually spent elsewhere?

  She’d never been a clingy woman. She had her own friends, few as they were, her work, and Jason.

  I would have divorced his ass, taken Jason, and…

  She let out a sigh as she turned her face into the water. She would have moved home with her dad. Just like she’d done.

  No doubt that was another reason Isabella had helped Michael conceal his mistress, knowing that Sarah would leave and take Jason with her. Being deep in debt, he wouldn’t have been able to pay much, if anything, in alimony. And having ruined Sarah’s credit, she would have been screwed in that way, too. And to avoid the child support issue, she suspected Isabella would have footed the attorney fees to try to get Michael primary custody.

  New York already felt like a bad nightmare. Despite all the years she’d lived there, thought she was happy there, it no longer seemed real.

  Hell, I could have gone to college in Tampa and never left the state and maybe been happier, or maybe better off.

  She would have had more time with her mom, at least.

  Then again, I wouldn’t have Jason.

  He was the bright spot in all of this and she would never forget or regret that.

  Jason was talking to her dad in the living room when she emerged from the bathroom.

  “Mom, Grandpa said we’re having mac and cheese for dinner tonight because Aunt Dana and her kids are coming.” Technically, Dana was her cousin, making her Jason’s cousin, but she didn’t correct him.

  She couldn’t resist his grin. “Yes, I heard that rumor, too. I also believe we’re having fish sticks and broccoli. And maybe even something yummy for dessert.”

  He pumped his good arm. “Yes!”

  She smiled at her dad. “Grandpa rocks.”

  He returned her smile. “I try.”

  * * * *

  Betty Lazarra walked over with a plate of deviled eggs at about five thirty. She greeted Sarah with a warm smile and a hug.

  Her blue eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “Your dad says we kind of shocked you earlier.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “No apologizing necessary. I wasn’t sure if you were up for company, which is why I didn’t walk over.” She glanced at Walt with a smile. “I would have expected him not to shock you on your first day home.”

  “Have you met my father?” Sarah joked.

  He chuckled but didn’t reply.

  “Anyway,” Betty continued, “if you ever need someone to watch Jason, please let me know. I don’t get to see my own grandkids very often except on a computer, so I’d love a chance to spoil him rotten, hop him up on sugar, and send him home to you.” She grinned.

  Sarah burst out laughing. This woman was a hoot. “Thanks. I think.”

  Betty looked at Walt again. “You’re right. I love her already.”

  “Good. Then I’ll get out of your way in the kitchen and leave you two to it.”

  “She’s a guest, Dad. What are you going to do?”

  “Let Jason kick my butt at bowling again, of course.”

  Betty touched her on the arm. “It’s all right. I told him I’d help cook.” Once Jason and her dad were safely in the living room and out of earshot, she added, “He’s been talking non-stop about you two coming to live with him ever since he got back. You have no idea how happy this has made him.” She frowned. “Uh, maybe that didn’t come out right. Sorry.”

  Sarah sensed she would end up getting along well with this woman. “It’s all right. I know what you meant. It wasn’t the greatest of circumstances to get here.”

  Betty nodded. “Exactly.” They started preparing the breaded chicken breasts the adults would eat while the kids chowed down on fish sticks. Dana arrived with Sage and Dell in tow, and a bowl of fruit salad in her arms.

  “Go find your Uncle Walt and harass him,” Dana said with a laugh as she set the bowl down on the table. Then her brown eyes fell on Sarah and she held her arms open.

  Sarah hugged her, long and hard. She hadn’t seen her cousin since her mom’s funeral.

  “Hey, it’s good to have you home, girl,” Dana whispered.

  “It’s good to be home.”

  In the living room, they heard the sound of Walt laughing, and a girl’s high-pitched, cheerful squeal. “I think everyone’s getting along without us in there,” Dana said. She hugged Betty. “Good to see you again.”

  “You know each other?” Sarah asked.

  “Walt has us over a few times a month for dinner and to let the kids swim or he takes them out fishing on the lake.”

  Family events at the d’Antonio residence had been far less casual. Everyone seated around a formal dining room table with the kids expected to act like little adults.

  Despite Jason having a couple of cousins on that side of the family, Sarah couldn’t ever remember hearing the happy squeal of kids playing together inside Isabella d’Antonio’s poshly decorated home. A home she took great pride in bragging about how many times it’d been professionally photographed for local design and lifestyle magazines.

  Not a kid-friendly abode, to be sure.

  Hell, Isabella was probably allergic to anything IKEA.

  “Are you all right?” Dana asked her.

  “No.” In quiet tones, she told the women about her latest go-round with Isabella. “Dad doesn’t even know yet.”

  “Don’t tell him yet,” Betty urged. “Not until later, after Jason’s asleep. He’ll want to fly up there and rip the woman’s head off himself.”

  “I don’t even want to talk about her tonight.” Sarah turned to her cousin. “So how’ve you been?”

  As the women finished dinner preparations, Dana filled her in. Her ex-husband, Charles, had abandoned her when she was pregnant with the twins. A man with a severe drinking problem, she ended up filing for divorce once she tracked him down in Las Vegas, where he was living with a woman he’d gotten pregnant out there. She’d changed her name back to her maiden name before the kids were born and they carried her last name, not his.

  She lived in her parents’ house and worked full-time as a hairdresser to make ends meet, but her parents were retired and had an RV they toured the country in. So at least she didn’t have to worry about a mortgage, just the utilities and other bills.

  Sage, Dana’s daughter, ran into the kitchen. Light brown hair and brown eyes the same shade as her mom’s, she said, “Uncle Walt asked if we can eat in the living room.”

  Dana spoke up. “Sage, this is Aunt Sarah.”

  “Hi, Sage.”

  The little girl grinned, revealing a missing upper right canine. “Hi, Aunt Sarah.
Can we, Mom?”

  “If it’s okay with Uncle Walt, I guess it’s okay with us.”

  They fixed the kids’ plates, and one for Walt, before fixing their own.

  The women sat together on the sofa and watched as the three young kids once again trounced Walt.

  “Sarah,” he said, “forget swimming. Jason needs to take up bowling.”

  “Can we, Mom?”

  She hadn’t been bowling in years. “I don’t see why not.”

  “There’s a bowling alley not far away,” Dana said. “I’ve taken the kids there a couple of times.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” her dad said before returning his attention to the game.

  As Sarah sat and watched them play, she realized how relaxed she felt despite the outer turmoil swirling around her life. She couldn’t recall ever feeling this at ease at a d’Antonio family gathering.

  They damn sure wouldn’t have gone bowling.

  By nine o’clock, all the kids were yawning. “I think it’s time to call it a night,” Sarah said. After everyone went home and she’d given Jason a quick bath and tucked him in, she finally had a few minutes to think as she lay in her bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  Tomorrow she had a lot to do. Finish unpacking Jason’s room, for starters. Finish cleaning the studio so she could get set up in there and back to work.

  As she rolled onto her side and stared at the window, she realized she did feel at home. She’d thought the transition might take her a while, especially considering how long it’d been since she’d spent any time here, but no.

  It felt like she’d never left, in many ways.

  Maybe I didn’t.

  New York had been a strange, wonderful experience when she’d first arrived. With the full academic scholarship she’d received, she’d gone straight from living in a dorm during school, to then working for a design firm after graduation while sharing an apartment in Brooklyn with a friend from school. She’d loved the city, hadn’t even owned a car until after she and Michael got married.

  It’d felt like she’d found the perfect place for her, so much more sophisticated than Tampa had ever felt, in her naïve mind.

  And then she’d met Michael.

  Now, at thirty-four, she was a widow, a single mother, and had returned to fill her father’s empty nest.

  And Tampa felt like the best place in the world compared to New York’s cold shoulders.

  I guess it doesn’t matter how far you travel, you always end up where you start.

  She closed her eyes and hoped sleep came quickly and without any dreams about Michael.

  Chapter Seven

  Tuesday morning, Sarah awoke a little before Jason, but not before her father. She found him in the kitchen, setting up the coffeemaker and watching the morning news on the under-counter TV.

  Once Jason got up and joined them, it struck her again how easily not only how she had slipped back into a routine, but he seemed to as well. And it felt good to have breakfast as a family. Sarah bit back more bitterness as she thought about all the mornings Michael had headed out “to work,” even on weekends, leaving her and Jason alone.

  Had he really been going to work? Or to meet up with his mistress?

  She shoved that thought out of her mind. She had too much to do today to waste time thinking about Michael’s bullshit. Especially when it didn’t matter anymore. And they had to return the rental truck that morning.

  “I need to grab a shower before we return the truck,” she told her dad.

  “No need. Bob’s going to meet me there and we’re going to run over and look at a tractor he wants to buy in Brandon. I’ll be home late afternoon, before dinner.

  “Oh. Okay.” She could check that off her list, at least. “Anything I need to do for you while you’re gone?”

  He smiled. “You can go gather eggs for me, if you want. I already fed everyone.”

  “Can I help?” Jason asked.

  “Sorry, sport,” he said. “Let’s wait until you get your cast off, first. Don’t want any chicken poop up in there.”

  Sarah and Jason both said, “Ewww!” Although Sarah’s heart soared to hear Jason’s laughter.

  Her dad led her out the back door, showed her where he kept the basket he used, and pointed at the coop. “Just go in and don’t let them escape when you do. Check all the boxes in the coop. I keep the extra egg cartons in the utility room on the shelf over the washer and dryer. Stickers and a marker are there, too. Just write the date on the sticker, put it on the ends like I have the ones in the fridge, and put them under the other cartons so the oldest ones are on top.”

  “That sounds easy enough.”

  “That’s because it is.”

  After he left, she cleaned up the kitchen and was going to go grab her shower. She knew she’d need another one later, but it would help her wake up and soothe her still-aching back.

  That’s stupid. I’ll do the eggs first.

  With Jason happily nestled in front of the TV and watching Nickelodeon cartoons, Sarah went to get the eggs gathered. She walked out the back door and grabbed the basket from the back porch where her dad had showed her. Then she headed toward the chicken coop.

  As she neared it, a large, brown, slow-moving bulk off to her right caught her eye through the trees. As she approached, she realized what it was.

  Big Mac. He stood in the shade of one of the oaks while lazily munching on the grass. Apparently her dad had replaced the tennis balls since yesterday, because now he sported two orange ones.

  “Oh, holy crap. How the hell did you get out the pasture?”

  Big Mac lifted his head and stared at her before he slowly began plodding across the yard toward the driveway. She dropped the basket.

  “No, nonono! Good cow! Nice Big Mac. Here, boy!” She whistled as she hurried after him.

  The steer, apparently enjoying this game, sped up.

  Unfortunately, Sarah saw her dad had left the gate at the end of the driveway open.

  “Crap! No, bad cow. Come!”

  Big Mac looked at her over his shoulder and continued plodding down the driveway.

  She’d swear the damn thing was smiling at her.

  “Dammit!”

  She picked up her pace, and halfway down the driveway she was moving at a jog with the bovine a few steps ahead, an odd slow-speed, cross-species pursuit.

  “Big Mac, come here!” Fortunately, the road they lived on wasn’t a busy highway. She tried putting on more speed, to see if she could outrun the steer and make it to the gate first, but no luck. He simply swiveled his head, saw that she was gaining on him, and picked up his pace as well.

  Nearly in tears, she followed the steer out the gate, where he promptly stopped in the middle of the road and began chewing his cud.

  She walked up to him and grabbed the base of one of his horns. “Come on, stupid. Back into the driveway, at least.”

  He simply looked at her. Since he outweighed her by a good eight hundred pounds or more, he apparently recognized he had the tactical advantage.

  She walked around him and tried pushing on his side to urge him back to the gate. He turned his head and nosed her, sliming her side.

  “Eww!”

  Fortunately, there weren’t any cars coming yet. She spent the next couple of minutes begging, pleading, bargaining, pushing, pulling, and swearing at the steer, who remained unmoved and firmly planted on the center yellow line. Even slapping him on the rump didn’t get her anything but a dour look from the animal.

  Nearly in tears, she spotted a pick-up truck pulling out of the driveway just to their south. She frantically waved and yelled to get their attention. At first she didn’t think they saw her when they’d started to pull out and head south, but then they made a wide, sweeping turn across the road and slowly drove her way.

  She spotted two men in the cab. They pulled up and parked diagonally across the road and put their emergency blinkers on.

  When they got out, despite the situation,
she wasn’t so upset she didn’t notice the brown-haired, hazel-eyed driver was as hunky as the black-haired, brown-eyed passenger. They looked vaguely familiar, although she couldn’t place them.

  Both men smiled and laughed as they walked over.

  “Hey, Big Mac,” the driver said as he reached out and scratched the steer between the eyes. “I see Walt replaced your tennis balls this morning.”

  “Can you help me? Please? I don’t know how he got out and my dad left the front gate open.”

  The passenger also reached out and petted the steer. “You’re Walt’s daughter, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sarah. Please?”

  The men smiled. The driver held out his hand to her. “Peter Hope. Call me Pete.” They shook. “This is Sam.”

  “Oh!” Now she could place them. “We went to school together. You guys live next door.” She fought the urge to blush. Back then, she’d thought the two cousins were cute, but hadn’t had the courage to talk to them.

  They’d turned their good looks into great ones. Either one of these men were three times as handsome as Michael had been. And in better shape, too.

  Sam shook with her next. “Yep. Been a long time.”

  “I’d really like to thank you for the job and everything, but… Please?” She indicated Big Mac.

  Sam laughed. “Did you try feed?”

  “Huh?”

  “A can of feed. He’ll follow it. He’s like a big dog.”

  “Oh.” She felt completely stupid. “I don’t even know where Dad keeps it. We haven’t got that far yet. I’m still trying to get unpacked.”

  “I’ll go get it,” Pete said to his cousin. “You stay here with her in case any cars come along.” He got back into the truck and slowly drove around them and up the Heckmans’ driveway.

  That left her standing with a recalcitrant steer and a really hunky guy who was now one of her employers.

  He reached out, put a hand on Big Mac’s shoulder, and leaned against the steer. “So, how’s your son doing? Walt said he was hurt pretty bad. Is he healing up okay?”

  This felt surreal even by Salvador Dali standards. “He’s doing better, thank you. I took him to the pediatrician before we left. He’s healing up from the surgery and they said he can probably get his cast off in a couple of weeks. My cousin is getting us in to see her pediatrician down here.”