Who was she kidding? Sheryl had done that most of her life.
From the way she comfortably sat on Ziggy’s lap, she seemed willing to do it again.
Mel put her fork down. “Pisses me off. I feel like we just got you back, and now your family is pushing you away again.”
“Oh, Mel . . . I’m not going away.” Only she couldn’t imagine running into her family on a daily basis with Ziggy holding everyone in tight control.
“I want that in writing,” Mel whined.
“Let’s talk about something happy,” Jo suggested. “So, sex with Luke . . . better than before?”
Zoe felt an instant smile on her face.
Chapter Eighteen
Luke had walked Zoe over to Sam’s the next day, and then continued around the block to the police station. He was hoping Zoe having a private word with Sheryl would end with some kind of resolution. She hadn’t been able to sleep since they returned from Vegas. She wasn’t eating either. For the first time since they’d gotten back together, he thought it might be best for her to return to Texas to get her mind off of her family. She was too close to the players to clear her mind and focus. In three weeks, when she returned for Mel and Wyatt’s wedding, she’d have some time behind her to let the reality of her father returning sink in.
Who knew, maybe Ziggy would screw up in those three weeks and end up back in jail.
Luke entered the station and waved at Glynis as he walked past. “Jo in there?” he asked, pointing toward her office.
“Yep.”
He winked and kept walking.
“Hey, Luke?” He turned around.
“Yeah.”
“Try and get her to eat.”
What was it with the women in his life not eating? “I’ll do that.”
Jo’s desk was mounded with open folders and empty coffee cups. “Looks like someone is running on caffeine.”
“Hey.”
“What’s all this?”
Jo placed a hand over an overstuffed folder. “This is the life of Ziggy Brown, illustrated by the Department of Corrections for the past seventeen years.” She slapped her hand on a file a quarter of its size. “This is the life of Ziggy Brown, illustrated by my dad and a few of his colleagues in Waterville.” She pointed to the far left corner of her desk. “River Bend Unified School District records of the Brown children . . . and last, but not least, Sheryl Brown.” Jo tapped her finger on the smallest pile in the stack.
“Who would Sheryl’s file be illustrated by?”
“My dad and the state of Oregon.”
Luke sank into a chair. “Your dad?”
“He tried to gather enough evidence of neglect to bring Child Protective Services in without any risk of the case being thrown out.”
“Too bad that didn’t happen.”
“According to the state of Oregon, Sheryl Brown has been the wife of Theodore Brown, aka Ziggy, for twenty-eight years.”
Luke tilted his head in thought. “Sheryl and Ziggy married after Zoe was born?”
“Yep. I’m not sure if Zoe knows that fact.”
“If only Ziggy wasn’t her biological father.” He couldn’t help but envision what that would look like. The thought was fleeting, however, since Zoe had a striking resemblance to the man.
“I doubt that.”
“Me, too . . . but it was a pleasant thought for a second.”
“No, more likely Sheryl ended up pregnant, and it wasn’t until after Zoe was born that Ziggy stepped up. Not that she was better off for it.” Jo paused, then asked, “Where is Zoe?”
“Confronting her mom at the diner. She didn’t want company.”
“I have a feeling Sheryl isn’t going to tell her what she wants to hear.”
Luke didn’t think so either. “I’ll never understand why people stay in abusive relationships.”
“We’re all able to take a certain amount of pain for love.”
He thought of his own love life . . . therefore he pictured Zoe. “True, but not when it comes to putting your kids in danger. I blame Sheryl for that. I want to like the woman, but it’s becoming harder by the day.”
“She’s not on my list of favorite people. Never has been. I always saw her as selfish and using. Her hand was out all the time once Zoe started making a name for herself.”
“Zoe is kicking herself for giving her anything to support that home.”
“She wouldn’t have done it if Sheryl told her it belonged to her dad.”
“What is it you always say, believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see?” Luke asked.
Jo nodded.
“That fits this whole situation. Sheryl lies about the house, the divorce. The powers in the penitentiary said Ziggy was in for another few years . . . even that was bull.”
“He did his time.” She tapped the biggest file on her desk. “Cleaned up the fights the last year . . . started to get friendly with those holding the keys. He also managed a consistent visitor.”
“Let me guess, Sheryl Brown.”
“Bingo.”
Luke sat forward, glanced at the names scribbled on the files on her desk. “So what can I do, Jo? We all know Ziggy is going to screw up. Do you know what his parole conditions are?”
“The standard stuff. No alcohol or drug use. Staying away from known criminals or criminal activity. His license was suspended, so he can’t drive. Although he might get that privilege back within a few months.”
“I don’t see him staying away from liquor.”
“Me either. And I doubt he’ll find a local job, but who knows. The RV plant is hiring.”
“Which leaves him right back to ‘finding’ money off unsuspecting people.” Luke used Zoe’s words for her father’s days as a thief.
Jo glanced at her watch and pushed back from her desk. “I’ve put Josie on notice if he shows up at R&B’s.”
If there was any trouble to be found, it would be at R&B’s. It was the only real bar in River Bend and close enough to the highway to attract caravanning motorcycle groups several times a year. “Buddy is still working in the kitchen there, right?”
Buddy had corralled him and Wyatt into a bar fight the previous year. He’d been a drifter until he found himself useful in finding the man who was behind Hope’s abduction. He was as big as a house and had several priors leading up to the fight, so the fact that he’d helped in finding Hope’s abuser shocked many of them. Apparently Buddy was tired of the life he was leading and decided to make a few changes. Working in the bar he’d done his best to bust up had a bit of irony.
“Yep.”
“My guess is he’s spent enough time with Ziggy’s kind to spot them.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Maybe Buddy can keep an eye open. Give me a call if he sees something Josie doesn’t.”
Jo stepped around her desk, grabbed her jacket off a coat rack by the door. “We can’t have enough eyes and boots on the ground. The sooner Ziggy is back in jail, the better for River Bend.”
“The better for Zoe.” Luke stood and followed Jo out.
“I’d like to think Zoe is back to being a part of this town.”
Yeah, he wanted to think that, too.
Zoe watched her mother through the window of Sam’s diner for several minutes. Her mom was an attractive woman, more so when she put a little effort into her appearance. Makeup had been a necessity to hide the bruises Ziggy left behind years ago. So it wasn’t a surprise to Zoe to see a dusting of foundation over her mother’s face. Was it preemptive makeup, something she wanted in place so people wouldn’t be surprised to find her painted up once the hits started coming? Or was her mom already catching the wrath of Ziggy’s fist?
Zoe wondered how many of the customers in the diner knew the truth about dear old Dad. Right after he’d been sent away, Ziggy had been all the town talked about. Zoe remembered her mother telling her to ignore the gossip and the stares. People all have issues in the privacy of their own homes.
As an adult, Zoe translated that to mean everyone had a skeleton they wanted to hide. She’d spent time watching other families and wondering if those dads were hitting their kids. It took a long while to hear someone yelling and not cringe. Even as an adult, Zoe would sometimes freeze when she overheard a heated argument between two strangers.
Her mother must have felt the weight of Zoe’s stare. Her eyes lifted from the table she was cleaning off and found hers.
Zoe took the few remaining steps and pushed through the doors of Sam’s diner.
The bell announced her arrival and a few heads swiveled her way.
Brenda stood behind the counter, coffeepot in hand. “Hi, Zoe.”
“Hey, Brenda.”
“I heard you were in town. Stayin’ for long?”
Zoe strategically avoided a direct answer. “I’ll be in and out. Mel’s wedding and all.”
Brenda refilled the cup of a customer at the counter. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Zoe looked directly at her mom. “I won’t. Do you mind watching my mom’s tables? I need a word.”
The diner only had a handful of patrons scattered about. The lunch rush had yet to start.
Sheryl started to protest. “This isn’t necessary.”
“Really?” Zoe asked, hating the fact that her mom was skirting around the needed conversation. “You don’t want to talk in private?”
Giving up, Sheryl placed the wet towel on the counter and led Zoe out the back door, away from eyes and ears.
With the grease pit and garbage cans as their backdrop, Zoe gave her mom one more chance.
“What are you doing? Does he have something over you?”
Sheryl wouldn’t look her in the eye. “No, nothing like that.”
“Then what is it?”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Have you ever loved someone, honey?”
This was worse than she thought. “You’re telling me you love that monster?”
“He’s not a monster.”
“He is! You know he is. We didn’t talk about him after he left, but that didn’t make what he did to us less real.” They’d all kept the past in the past, never really talking about all the crap Ziggy brought with him. They slept better and had far less use for Band-Aids and bags of ice for swollen body parts.
“He wasn’t wired for kids, Zoe. You kids were a handful.”
Her mother’s words soaked in. “You’re blaming us.”
“No . . . just. It was hard.”
“So what’s changed? Zanya is still there, Blaze. How long before Ziggy realizes he hates crying babies?”
Sheryl glanced up, only to quickly look away. “Zanya and Mylo are working on getting a place. And your dad doesn’t drink anymore.”
“He is an asshole even without liquor. You know it, I know it. The whole damn town knows it.”
“People can change.”
“You’re right. People can change . . . monsters like Ziggy, not so much.”
Sheryl glared at her now, animosity in her eyes. “I’m sorry you feel that way. But you don’t have to worry about him or me . . . you can just go back to your pampered little life and forget all about us.”
Zoe didn’t think her mother could hurt her more. “My pampered little life?”
With her nose high, Sheryl stared.
“I worked my ass off to get out of this town. To get where I am.” Heat filled Zoe’s face.
“I guess I didn’t do too bad of a job raising you then.”
Her mom wanted credit for the good but couldn’t take any of the blame for her shitty life decisions that affected them all. “What about Zane? Do you take credit for all the times he ended up in juvenile hall? His lack of graduating from high school? What about Zanya? Do you take credit for her falling into your path of premarital baby making without a way to support her son? Do you take credit for that?”
Her mom scowled. “I did the best I could.”
“Sure you did. By staying with the likes of Ziggy, you did your best.” Zoe clenched her fists and did everything she could to keep from yelling. “You know, Mom, I always said there is a statute of limitations on how long a person can blame their parents for their fucked-up life. I took that and fell from my family tree and rolled really far down the hill. You did not make that happen. I did.” She tapped her own chest. “So don’t try and take credit for what I’ve done with my life. If you want to belittle it, fine. But you won’t have an audience with me. I came here hoping you’d have a real explanation as to why you’re falling back in bed with that man. I guess I got it.” And for the first time in Zoe’s adult life, she had nothing more to say to her mother.
Chapter Nineteen
Zoe sat on Luke’s back porch and watched the final rays of sunshine disappear from the sky. She’d heard his motorcycle announce his arrival after he spent a half a day in the shop.
She was leaving in the morning, and while she hated the fact that she was leaving behind a mess, she understood there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it staying in River Bend.
“Zoe?” Luke called from inside the house.
“Out here.”
She glanced over her shoulder when she heard the screen open.
Blue jeans hugged Luke’s hips, and a tight black T-shirt stretched over his chest.
She leaned her head back and puckered her lips.
Luke’s smile was instant before he reached down to accept her offering. He kissed her, pulled a hair away, and said, “I like this.” And then kissed her again.
“How was work?” she asked.
He looked at his hands. “Greasy.”
“Dinner is in twenty minutes, if you want to shower.”
He pretended to smell under his arms. “Is that a hint?”
Zoe reached for one of his palms. “Yep.”
She accepted another kiss before he walked away. “I’m going.”
The water in the shower turned on, and Zoe left her perch on Luke’s back deck to make the salad.
She’d done everything she could to get her mind off her family. And by everything, that meant she’d cooked.
Luke had a vast supply of sealable rubber containers, which she made good use of. She started with tortilla soup and worked her way into making enchiladas that Luke could toss in the oven to cook on another day. She moved from south of the border to West Texas and a recipe she had for chili and beans. Zoe packed that in the freezer with heating directions taped to the lid. She baked three dozen snickerdoodles and finally placed a small pork roast in the oven for that night. Unable to stop herself, she tossed together a plum sauce for the pork and a carrot puree to go over the potatoes. For the first time in what felt like a week, she was hungry.
She opened a bottle of white wine and sipped while she shredded parmesan cheese for the Caesar salad.
Luke slid a hand over her hip when he walked up behind her. His lips touched the side of her neck. “I could get used to this.”
She picked up a crouton, store-bought, unfortunately, and lifted it to Luke’s lips. “I leave in the morning.”
He crunched on the stale bread and grumbled, “I know.”
Zoe missed the heat of him when he walked away and opened his fridge. “What’s all this?”
“I can’t have you hungry while I’m gone.”
He lifted the container holding the soup. “Seriously?”
“I could give it to Mel if you—”
“Hell, no. Mel can get her own.” He set the soup back down, grabbed a beer, and closed the door.
She dusted off her hands and reached for the dressing. “Why don’t you grab us some plates?”
Luke took a swig and turned to the cabinet where the plates once were.
“One over,” she told him.
He gave her a sly smile before he found the plates and put them on his small dining table. They worked together to get the meal on their plates.
She refilled her wine and sat beside him.
“It smells am
azing.”
“Not something you’re going to find at Sam’s,” she told him.
He used his fork to cut into the tender meat. Zoe watched as he took his first bite.
Luke did an eye roll and moaned. “Oh, man.”
“Glad you like it.” She took a bite and silently patted herself on the back. She would have liked the tarragon to be fresh, but she did her best with what she had.
Luke filled his fork with the potatoes. “Amazing.”
She picked up her wine to help wash down her bite.
“If we get married, will you cook like this every night?”
Zoe felt the wine stick.
Luke was smiling and digging into the next bite.
“If we got married, I’d teach you how to cook.”
He waved a fork in the air. “Deal.”
He was kidding, she knew he wasn’t serious. The dimples in his cheeks etched in from the smile he wore. “What is this?”
“Carrots.”
He took another big bite. “I don’t like carrots.”
She smiled. “Good to know.”
He pulled his salad bowl closer. “So how are you feeling about this morning? You look better.”
Her morning conversation with her mom weighed on her until about three hours into her cooking spree. Then her mind started to let go. “I’m sure I’ll be pissed again tomorrow. But I’m okay right now.”
“It’s probably good you’re going back to Texas.”
She knew he hated to say the words, and knew even more he disliked the truth in them.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
He moaned over another bite. “Good thing. I’ll starve if you don’t.”
“I saw your refrigerator. You won’t starve . . . malnourishment is a serious consideration, however.”
Luke shrugged. “I’m not that bad.”
“Cold pizza and fried chicken?”
“There’s vegetables on pizza.”
“Pepperoni and sausage?”
He had the decency to look guilty. “The sauce.”
Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2) Page 16
