A Family Affair: Summer: Truth in Lies, Book 3 Page 20

  “You know, I have a question.” Gina rubbed her jaw, her dark gaze settling on Tess. “The doctor told you it might be difficult to get pregnant because of scarring, right? But he didn’t say impossible, did he?”

  Tess snatched a tissue and dabbed her eyes. “He said difficult, but I doubt most men would be willing to take that chance. And it’s not exactly something you throw out over drinks.”

  “Maybe most men wouldn’t be willing to take the chance,” Bree said in a soft voice, honey-dipped with sympathy. “But I never thought Daniel Casherdon was like most men, and that’s what this is really about, isn’t it? The reason you never committed to another man wasn’t because you might not be able to have children.” Her voice dipped lower. “It was because of Cash. You never stopped loving him.”

  There were times that Bree made a lot of sense. Like now.

  “That’s it, isn’t it, sweetheart?” Bree offered an encouraging smile. “You never stopped loving him.”

  Tess nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Now what?” This from Gina. “Looks like we’re at an impasse. Tess loves Cash. Cash probably loves Tess, but he’s too hurt to admit it. If we don’t help him see he’s still in love with her, he might do something stupid.”

  “He might go after Natalie Servetti,” Bree said in a fierce voice.

  They all glared at her, but it was Gina who bit out a warning. “Do not say that woman’s name again.”

  Bree shrugged and muttered, “She’s your cousin.”

  Christine interrupted before Bree and Gina started attacking each other with sarcastic comments. “We’ve got serious issues here, like a couple that belongs together but is so hurt by the past they can’t see a future together. Someone has to talk to Cash, help him see what he could have with Tess.”

  “It’s going to take some serious eye-opening,” Gina said. “Got anybody in mind?”

  Christine smiled. “Of course.” The smile stretched. “My husband.”

  Bree snickered. “Oh, I’m sure Mr. Tall and Silent will be delighted with that task.”

  “He’s got a very soft and caring side to him,” Christine said in a gentle voice.

  Gina rolled her eyes. “Do not let your husband hear you saying that about him. I think he likes the dark and dangerous persona.”

  “I’d ask Brody to step in and talk to Cash, but he’s not big into analyzing his feelings. He says he knows what’s in his heart and doesn’t need to worry about how it got there, who put it there, or if it’s going to stay.” Her face lit up, her voice dipped. “He says it’s all because of me.”

  “Well, then,” Christine said, “That settles it. I’ll talk to Nate.”

  ***

  Will Carrick owned a helluva lot of land and for the past five days, Cash had spent his time among the wooded areas, sometimes walking, other times sitting on a fallen tree or a large rock. He’d even discovered a pond, complete with bull frogs and blue gill. He was up and out of the cabin by 7:30 in the morning with a couple of bottles of water, an apple, and two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It wasn’t that he was hungry, but he didn’t want to do something stupid and pass out from low blood sugar. Will wouldn’t find him for weeks, if and when he noticed he’d gone missing, which at the moment was unlikely since he spent so much time at Olivia Carrick’s.

  His aunt told him Will and Olivia “were an item.” Cash guessed that meant they were together like a pair of socks or a hat and scarf. Great. He was glad for them. Somebody might as well get a happy ending. He tossed a stick in the air, watched it land several yards away. Maybe he should get a dog. Dogs were great companions: loyal, trustworthy, eager to please. They didn’t possess the ability for duplicity or lies. Yup, he needed to get a dog. He’d check out the rescue center and see if he could find one, a male. Definitely, a male. Females were too much work, too unpredictable.

  He’d come upon a few clearings that would be great for target practice, if he were so inclined, which he wasn’t. His gun rested in the back of a drawer with his T-shirts and underwear, a symbol of another life, one that pitted danger against adrenaline. If he hadn’t been shot, he’d still be in Philly chasing bad guys and ignoring anything more important than the next shift. Ben had tried to talk to him about coming back—that was before he left in a royally pissed-off mood because of the way Cash had treated Paige. But Ben didn’t know about the hesitation that gave Cash’s shooter the edge, or that the reason behind the hesitation was the split-second thought that the kid looked like JJ. And Ben sure as hell didn’t know JJ was his ex-fiancée’s brother. Talk about a royal screw-up. That was pretty much Cash’s life right now.

  But didn’t people say that sometimes bad things have to happen to you before you make a change? And when you’re in a situation that couldn’t get any worse, there’s a reason for it and if you can get to the other side of that reason, you end up being grateful for the thing that almost did you in? It was probably all bullshit, but right now that’s all Cash had.

  He wasn’t going back to Philly. He wasn’t going to be a cop anymore. And he wasn’t going to end up with Tess Carrick. That last acknowledgment was the one that gnawed at his gut, came to him in the middle of the night, and crushed his chest so he couldn’t get a clean breath. Shit.

  Even if Cash were willing to start over with Tess, how did you do that with lies? How did you come to a point where trust factored in without checking and rechecking facts like he’d done when he’d received a questionable tip while on the force? There was always doubt and the suspicion that self-interest played a major role in whatever “truth” spilled out. Damn it, would he never be rid of her? Would he never be able to move on and have a relationship with another woman?

  When his cell phone rang, he ignored it. There wasn’t anybody he wanted to talk to, and he’d only brought the phone along in case he got lost. Other than that, it was just him, nature, and his thoughts. It was the thoughts that kept beating him down, clinging to him harder than the burrs he’d encountered a little while ago.

  On “Day One” of the unraveling of lies, there’d been a bombardment of phone calls and a visit from his aunt and Will Carrick. Separately, of course, but both just as desperate to hear Cash’s version of the encounter with his ex-fiancée. What was there to say? Lies and deceit don’t equal the foundation for a relationship? Ramona had been as close to remorseful as he’d ever seen her, saying something about pure motives but wrong execution. Sure, whatever. She had surprised him when she told him she wished she’d destroyed the letter before he saw it. And what, he’d wanted to ask, wait for Tess to confess to her misdeeds? But he’d said nothing, merely shrugged and stared at her until she mumbled something, gave him a hug, and left.

  What if Ramona had destroyed the damnable letter and he and Tess had gotten back together? Would Tess have let the lies fester between them like pus-filled wounds until one day, the poison oozed out and he learned the truth? He didn’t know how that would happen, but lies had a way of bursting open when you least expected it.

  His child. It had probably been too soon to tell if it was a boy or girl. He’d needed something to hang onto when he left Magdalena eight years ago, and knowing Tess was pregnant might have forced them to work things out, even if she did end up losing the baby. But she’d stolen his chance to know he was going to be a father. He swore once, twice, louder, until he lifted his face skyward and shouted a string of curses, all directed at the unfortunate circumstances that made up his existence.

  The curses helped, but it was the release of the decibel-splitting anger and desperation amidst the quiet of nature that calmed him, cleared his head, and carved a narrow path of possibility.

  There was a lot of uncertainty in his life right now, but here’s what he did know: he was not leaving Magdalena. Nate had offered him work finishing furniture and if he thought Cash would be good at it—and Nate was a picky sonofabitch—then what the hell, why not? And he still wanted to work with Will on plans for the youth camp. That really
interested him. He had a lot of ideas on what the place should look like, what it should offer, how he could work with the school to determine at-risk kids. Cash might never have kids of his own, but he could still make a mark on others, maybe save a few along the way like Will Carrick had saved him.

  Rejuvenated, Cash wolfed down the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, drank half the bottle of water, and worked his way back to the cabin, munching on his apple and making plans for the youth camp. When he reached the clearing that led to his cabin, he spotted Nate’s SUV parked next to the barn. Just the person he wanted to see.

  The barn doors were open, letting in fresh air and natural sunlight. Nate had his back to the door as he worked an electric sander over the sides of a bookcase and sang Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” as it blared from the radio. The scene was too good to interrupt, especially Nate’s off-key attempts to hit a few high notes. Cash waited until the song ended and the DJ started reminiscing about Led Zeppelin’s greatest hits before he made his way to the long workbench.

  “Hey.”

  Nate looked up, clearly surprised to find him there. Was it general surprise because someone had actually witnessed his singing, or was the surprise because Cash was that someone? He turned off the sander and set it on the workbench. “What’s up?”

  Cash shrugged, tried to maintain a straight face, but failed. “Might want to leave the high notes to someone else.”

  Nate laughed. “Yeah, well, I didn’t know I had an audience.”

  Cash waited a few seconds for the “What the hell are you going to do now?” barrage, and when that didn’t happen, he relaxed. “Still hating the sanding and finishing part?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Then show me where to start and I’ll get going.”

  Two hours later, Cash had sanded the bookcase smooth enough for a high-end furniture showroom, while Nate cut out the legs for the matching desk. Damn, but it felt good to be busy. A person could only mope around so long feeling sorry for himself and then he needed to get over it and get moving. This work required concentration and would be the perfect distraction. In fact, he’d been so preoccupied these last few hours, he’d thought of nothing but the smoothness of the wood, the smell of it, the feel of it. Nate said tomorrow they’d cordon off a section of the barn for the finishing area since varnish and sanding dust didn’t mix.

  “How about we quit for today?” Nate set two beers on the workbench and wiped his forehead. “We’ll get the fans going in another week or two before the next heat wave, but we’ll have to be careful with the finishing area. Fans kick up a lot of dust.”

  Cash laid the sander on the bench and took a long pull on his beer. “You ever think about renting a building somewhere, get it set up for business?”

  Nate shot him a look and said, “Have you been talking to my wife?”

  “No, why?”

  He sighed. “That’s been a big point of contention for a while now. Christine wants to ‘loan’ me the money to rent a place, but I already took a loan from her to upgrade my equipment.” He shrugged. “I like to take things slow and I’ve got a good setup here. Will lets me use the barn and I let him use my tools, and I help him out with projects.”

  “But if you had a dedicated building, imagine the production you could kick out.”

  Nate studied his beer, frowned. “I know. I think about it, but I’m having an issue taking my wife’s money, even if she fancies it up with paperwork. It’s still her money.”

  “A loan isn’t taking. What about if I loaned you the money?” As soon as the question fell out of his mouth, another took hold. “Or what if I bought into the business? I’ve got enough money saved.”

  Nate met his gaze, held it. “So, you’re definitely staying here?”

  Cash nodded. “I’m staying.” And then, “I’ve got this idea to start a camp for troubled kids. They’d come during school breaks and in the summer. Not sure how we’d select them or the age group, but they’d work the land, maybe learn a skill, like how to use a band saw or a jointer.” He grinned. “Hell, I don’t know. They’d learn about working together and that this world is not just about them and their needs. I keep thinking if we’d gotten to JJ younger, we might have saved him; same with the seventeen-year-old kid who shot me. Was there really no other alternative but to rob a convenience store and shoot a cop?”

  “I think it’s a great idea. Very generous.”

  “Yeah, well.” He polished off his beer and set it on the workbench. “Will said he’d help out.”

  “Count me in, too. Just let me know what you need.”

  “Good. And I still plan to work with you, whether or not you want me to invest.” He shrugged. “I actually like the sanding and varnishing part.”

  Nate shook his head. “Better you than me. I’ll keep building and you keep sanding. As for Will and your youth camp idea, we’ve got to get him involved. He’s got some great ideas, but he’s been pretty scarce lately.”

  “So I’ve noticed.” Should he tell him that Will and Olivia Carrick were “an item”? He was contemplating the thought when Nate made his decision for him.

  “I heard Will and Olivia Carrick are seeing each other.” He whistled under his breath. “Who would have thought?”

  And there it was, the Carrick name creeping into the conversation. Cash tried to beat it down. “Never can tell, I guess. Want another beer?” He didn’t wait for an answer but headed for the small fridge in the corner.

  “Can’t. I have to get home.” He hesitated. “I’d ask you to dinner but Christine invited—” he stopped, reworked the sentence “—it might be uncomfortable for you.”

  Because Tess Carrick, the ex-fiancée, would be there. That’s what Nate wanted to say.

  “No problem. Ramona sent me chili and cornbread. I’ve got plenty.”

  Nate laughed. “I almost wish I were eating here. Christine is trying out my mother’s chicken and broccoli casserole recipe, but,” he paused, “she’s been working on it since we got married and still hasn’t quite gotten it right.”

  Cash saluted him with his beer. “Then I’ll be thinking of you with every bite I take.”

  Nate shifted from one booted foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable with whatever he was about to say. Ten bucks it had the name Tess in it.

  “Look, I hate this kind of stuff and I really don’t want to get involved—”

  “Then don’t.”

  Nate shot him a look. “I promised my wife I’d talk to you. Nobody had more baggage than Christine and I did. My mother and her father, Lily, her damn mother. It was such a mess and I was so angry and resentful. I didn’t trust her, even when I should have trusted her, I wouldn’t.” He stared at a the hand plane he’d just used as if reliving those moments. “It was pure torture. I wanted to hate her but I couldn’t. When she was gone, I thought about her all the time and that really pissed me off. And once I touched her,” his voice turned rough, “that was heaven and hell.” He let out a laugh that fizzled. “Once we were married, I thought we were past the rough spots, but I had no idea it could get so much worse. I didn’t think we’d survive.”

  Will had told Cash how Christine Desantro’s mother drove into town in her fancy car and uppity attitude and paid Natalie Servetti to “fake seduce” Nate, just enough so there would be pictures to make it look real. Oh, yes, real enough to destroy their marriage, which it almost did. Christine was pregnant, too. But somehow they’d gotten past it and Will said Pop Benito had a lot to do with it. Maybe Nate was the only one who understood how Cash felt, and maybe the pain he talked about was still too close to the surface, like a scab that would reopen with the slightest scratch.

  “That was a bad deal,” Cash said. “I’m sorry.”

  Nate’s expression turned dark, fierce. “I’d go through it a hundred times if it meant being with Christine.”

  “I never took you for a man who loved torture.”

  He touched the wedding ring on his left finger a
nd when he spoke his voice was raw and brittle. “The real torture would be life without her.”

  Chapter 17

  The members of The Bleeding Hearts Society had gathered for their monthly meeting, but they were not thinking about Wanda Cummings’s recommendation that more fertilizer was required for the droopy impatiens outside the coffee shop on Main Street. Nor were they particularly interested in Mimi Pendergrass’s proposal for a new terra cotta planter by the post office. They were not even taken in with the deliciousness of Ramona Casherdon’s sweet rolls or Mimi Pendergrass’s signature hibiscus ice tea, the latter being a welcome relief on this extra warm summer day. No, they had other thoughts skittering through their brains, thumping in their hearts, trying desperately to sneak past their pinched lips.

  What was going to happen to Cash and Tess?

  When Pop Benito invited her to the meeting, Tess had almost turned him down, but then she’d realized exactly why she needed to go. There would never be a better opportunity to say what needed saying and Ramona Casherdon would be there. When else could she expect a face-to-face with the woman, even though her mother had insisted Cash’s aunt had a few things to tell her. Doubtful anything Tess was interested in, but Ramona wasn’t the reason Tess accepted the invitation. No, that was not it at all.

  “Who’s making the lavender sachets for the Flowers and Hearts sale?” Mimi glanced over her reading glasses and waited. Wanda Cummings and Bree raised their hands.

  Of course, Bree had a question and a comment. She always did. “I was thinking maybe the thread should be lavender, too, since we’re making lavender sachets.” She smiled at the group. “You know, in keeping with the theme.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mimi nodded. “That’s a fine idea, Bree. You and Wanda work on that.”

  Bree lit up like a birthday candle and nodded.

  “Now, on to the basil, oregano, and parsley. We need twenty pots planted by next Sunday so they’ll be well past the shocky state by sale time.” Mimi pointed to Pop. “You’re in charge of these.” She winked. “And don’t forget to say your special prayers or whatever it is you do to get that basil of yours to grow like the Amazon jungle.”