by Dawn Tomasko
"Hold on, baby. I get what you're doing and why you need to do it. That's fine by me, but you need to be careful. No trips to Cottage Hospital for you, got it?"
Lungs heaving, she hefted the hammer, its weight heavy in her hand. A glint of determination glowed in her eyes and a corner of her mouth edged up. "Yeah."
"Here,” he brought her over to a stack of two by fours. "Do your thing, honey."
Much later, side by side, they faced the house. “My shoulders and back ache, and I’m sweaty. It feels incredible.” The now cool breeze began to cool their overheated bodies. Goosebumps covered Sara’s arms and legs. Gabriel handed her a water bottle and got one for himself.
They both drank deeply. Reaching up, he wiped his sleeve across his forehead. "You work like a maniac. When you need to hit something, ask me. You're on my crew anytime."
A sharp laugh escaped her parched throat. "Thanks. The porch,” she said, wonder in her voice. "You do amazing work. Gabe, it's beautiful."
"Yeah, it is,” she heard the pride in his voice, and he assessed the details, satisfied with the quality of work. "I think I'm proudest of this project of any I've done so far."
"You're an artist,” she leaned her head on his shoulder. One arm came to rest at her waist, and the long fingers of his right hand sank into her hair, held her to him.
"But what about this?” she gestured to the pile of two by fours she hammered together. The planks joined without rhyme or reason, no better than a pile of dropped matchsticks. "What do we do with those?"
Gabriel leaned his head back and laughed. "Absolutely nothing. No way could I let you get near the porch with a hammer and nails in your state of mind. If you weren't so pissed off, I'd let you screw the decking down, or cut lengths of board for the steps. But that's not what this was about."
Sara looked over at the pile of wood she'd decimated. Countless nails embedded the wood, along with numerous dents from the hammer whenever she'd missed the nail heads.
The whole mess looked ridiculous, and a lightness lifted her spirit. She's spent her anger, released it and its poison-like hold. With a glance at Gabriel, and they stared at each other for a half second and completely lost it. Sara laughed so hard, she bent over, hands on her knees.
"S-sorry about the waste,” she snickered, wiped at her eyes.
"Well worth it, wouldn't you say? I can cut it up for firewood. Feel better?” A smile played about his lips, and the tenderness in his eyes melted her, drained away the anger.
"Yeah, I do."
"Nice job,” he told her, squeezed her pumped-up bicep. "You know how to kick ass.” He leaned down, kissed her hard on the mouth. Playfully she socked him in the gut.
“Whoa!” He groaned, gripped his stomach. "Take it easy, killer."
Laughter fell from her lips, as sweet as summer rain.
Chapter Twenty-Two
With gloved hands, Sara pulled weeds along the side of the porch. They piled up in a compound bucket Gabriel gave her for this purpose. Sweat gathered at her hairline, trickled down her back.
"Hi, Mom,” Bree's soft greeting startled Sara as she knelt on a pad in the weeds.
"Hey!” Hand to her chest, she let out a shaky laugh. With a few quick tugs, she stripped the gloves off. "You startled me."
"Sorry.” Her daughter's eyes, large and swimming with unshed tears, tore at her heart. Sara slowly stood, not knowing what her daughter needed. For a moment, Bree seemed like a little girl again, in need of comfort over some small childhood disappointment.
But this one wasn't small, and they both knew it. She walked over to Bree and enfolded her in a fierce hug.
"Mom,” Brianna cried. Tremors ran through her body, and she hung onto her mother like a lifeline. "I'm sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you."
Sara closed her eyes, swallowed against the intense ache in her throat. This moment seemed like it would never come. Now that it had, love and relief made her light-headed.
As Bree sobbed, broken phrases and apologies tumbled out. "I was horrible to you, Mom, for so long. Dad didn't want to tell me, but I didn't let up, and he finally admitted to it. The drinking, the fighting, the nightmares. If you just said something to me."
“I’m sorry, I should have.” Sara stroked her daughter's long, sleek hair. The ability to comfort Brianna made her feel whole again. "I didn't want to hurt you more. Would you have believed me if I told you?"
"No,” she wailed. "No, I wouldn't. Mom, I'm sorry. Please,” she pulled back, eyes red and swollen and chin quivering. "You've always been there for me."
"I always will, Bree. I love you,” she whispered, her throat so tight she could barely speak. The rock hard grip that held her prisoner cracked broke apart. Her baby was back. Splinters of pain and guilt and worry flew away, replaced by joy, thankfulness, and peace.
Sara called Gabriel to break their date for the night. He laughed at the apology, joy evident in her voice. "Are you kidding? Honey, I'm so happy for you. We'll have lots of nights together. Enjoy your daughter. You take your time and do whatever you need to. I'll see you later."
That night, the two women snuggled together in Sara's bed under a light quilt. Brianna brewed tea and Sara put together a plate of cookies they’d baked to bring upstairs, and they talked for hours.
"So you met someone special,” Brianna ventured carefully. The fragility of their reunion tempered Bree’s questions about Gabriel.
Leaned back against the stack of pillows, she smiled. "Incredibly. I can't wait for you to meet him."
Brianna sipped her tea and set it on the nightstand. "This is all so surreal. Both my parents are with new people. I'm not sure what to feel. I've been so angry, and now I don't know what to do. But I'm glad we're okay, Mom."
"We’re better than okay, sweetheart. Do you like Penny?”
“Yeah, she seems nice. It’s weird seeing her in our house.”
David could certainly have handled the situation better, but nothing could be done about it now. “Want me to braid your hair?” Sara offered, as she finger-combed her daughter's long blond locks. Bree turned to give her mother access. "I loved doing this for you when you were a little girl. For what seemed hours, I'd brush your hair and then braid it. You loved the waves when we undid them in the morning."
"Daddy liked them, too, remember?” She ducked her head to rest it on her knees. "I'm sorry."
Sara set her cheek on Bree’s soft one. "You don't have to be. Your father will always be important in your life, and I don’t want you to walk on eggshells around me. I'm still confident we can come to a place where we can let the past go and be friends. Or at least, be kind."
"Tell me about Gabriel."
Sara's fingers deftly finished the braid and wound a hair tie around the tail. Brianna rested against the pillows with a sweet smile.
"He's talented and hard-working. His family lives in Connecticut and runs an investment firm. Gabe decided to leave the family business to work for a restoration company. When calls came in from the island, his partner asked him to come out here and check them out."
Bree nodded. "Now tell me about him."
Sara traced the pattern of vines and leaves on the quilt. "Right from the start, there was a spark, something special. He's caring, kind and makes me laugh. Gabe treats me like I'm special."
"You are."
Sara kissed her cheek. "The best part is he likes me for exactly who I am, even if I'm still trying to figure it out. It's hard to explain, but sometimes women give themselves over to their husbands, children, and jobs. Maybe it's what women think society expects of them, or what they perceive they should be. There's nothing I regret, except somewhere along the way, I lost myself."
She sat up, earnest. "Don't let it happen to you. You can be anything you want, have a career, be a wife and mom. But don't ever forget yourself."
"I'll remember, Mom. I promise."
With a quick nod, she leaned back again. "With Gabriel, I can be me. I don't have to be careful of what I say. The
re's a freedom I can't describe."
"Is he hot?” Bree wiggled her eyebrows.
Sara laughed and tugged on Bree's long, silky braid. "Yeah. Real hot."
Gabe waited on the brick sidewalk outside of Black Eyed Susan's, a breakfast and dinner restaurant on India Street. Last night before they finished talking on the phone, Sara asked if he'd meet her and Bree for breakfast.
Because her daughter was nearby, he couldn't ask how about the results of their visit and if they worked through some of their issues. He did, however, hear the lightness and excitement in Sara's voice and knew something good had come of it.
Their excited chatter reached his ears long before they rounded the corner and spotted him. He'd dressed to make a good impression on Brianna and wore tan khakis, boat shoes, and a light orange polo shirt. From the heat in Sara's eyes, she approved. With a broad smile, she introduced them.
"Brianna, this is Gabriel Donovan."
"Pleased to meet you,” the young woman offered her hand to him. A younger version of her mother, her hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, her ivory skin smooth and youthful. The fullness of her mouth came from her mother, but her eyes must be David's.
"At last, we meet, Miss Shepard,” he kissed the back of her hand, eliciting a giggle from her.
"Call me Brianna or Bree."
"I'd like to call you Bree like your mom does. Let's go inside, our table's waiting,” he offered, and pushed the door open for them to step inside. He gave Sara's waist a squeeze of encouragement. Gabriel pulled chairs out for the women to sit, and once Sara settled in, he bent to kiss her cheek.
The waitress took their order promptly and set coffee out for Sara and Gabriel. Bree asked for tea. They occupied a small square table, Sara sat between them. "Bree, your mother told me a lot about you. She's proud of you and the hard work you're doing in school."
"Mom's always been an advocate of education,” Bree said and spooned honey into her tea. "In her late thirties, she completed nursing school."
Sara sat quietly to enjoy the two of them as they got to know each other. Brianna told him about her studies and the summer job she landed. Bree blossomed under Gabriel’s interest and attentiveness.
Gabriel's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. "Excuse me while I take this. It's my father."
Brianna watched as he headed out to the vestibule. She turned to her mother, mouth dropped open. "Mom, oh my God. You didn't tell me he looked like that!"
Bree's enthusiasm cracked her up. "I wanted to see your impression without my input. Apparently, you agree with me."
"Yeah, and the way he looks at you? I totally get it."
"What way it that?” Sara asked, delighted, knowing full well the way he looked at her. Much the same way she must look at him.
Bree's eyes danced with excitement. "The man's over the moon in love with you."
Heat no doubt turned her cheeks pink. "He said so the other day."
"Did you tell him you love him, too?” she asked, hesitant.
The eagerness in her daughter’s expression amused her. "Not yet."
"Don’t you love Gabe, Mom?” Her daughter gripped her hand tightly.
Sara chewed her bottom lip. "I do, honey, but it's complicated."
"Why? You do, or you don't, right? Why hold back?"
Much like her father, Bree tended to see the world in black and white. With maturity and experience, she might come to understand the complicated nuances of relationships. Sara glanced up, watched Gabriel talk on the phone in the vestibule. "I'll get there. I want to make sure it's going to last."
Bree's eyes watched him as he ended the call and turned to make his way back to the table. "Mom, I just met the man. I can only dream to find someone who looks at me the way he looks at you."
Reluctant to point out to Bree the fact that a week ago, she would never tell her mother to 'go for it,' Sara's eyes searched his out. Bree's assessment was spot on, Gabriel's affections for deserved reciprocation. Something still held her back.
Once seated again, he grinned at the women. "My dad's doing well. He suffered a heart attack recently,” he informed Bree.
"Yes, mom told me. I'm glad he's okay."
"Thanks, Bree. I would like you to meet my parents this summer. Dad just said he and mom are thinking of coming out here for the entire month of August."
"Really?” Sara asked, surprised, but pleased. "That's amazing. Your dad's a workaholic, isn't he?"
"Big time,” he said, wonder in his voice. "When I was home helping them, I noticed changes in him. Ever since the heart attack, I think he sees life a bit differently."
The waitress brought their plates. Gabriel attacked his breakfast with gusto. He’d chosen sourdough French toast with orange whiskey butter and cinnamon pecans. He topped it all off with pure maple syrup.
"That’s a gastrointestinal nightmare. You better get your cholesterol and blood sugar checked after you eat that,” Brianna told him. "Mom will start quoting all sorts of statistics at you designed to make you lose your appetite."
Gabriel laughed and glanced over at Sara. "She hasn't done that yet. Don't worry, I eat pretty healthily most of the time. I love your mom's cooking. Today is a special occasion."
Bree enjoyed a veggie scrambled egg with fresh basil pesto while Sara feasted on a scrambled egg dish with broccoli, potatoes, and cilantro. The banter between Gabriel and Sara warmed her, their smiles and jokes eased the concerns she harbored about the possibility of them becoming friends.
After they had left the restaurant, Brianna excused herself to go and visit Charlotte and Gary. "Thank you for breakfast, Gabe. It was greet meeting you."
"You're welcome. You’re everything your mom said you were. Do you want us to give you a ride?” Gabriel asked her.
"No, I'll walk, it's only a mile or so. I haven't seen the island since last summer. I’ve been studying for finals and stuck in my dorm so long. I need the exercise. See you guys later."
As Gabriel and Sara held hands and walked around Town, he waited for her to open up. For long moments, she stood in front of a store window, lined with lightship baskets. "You love those, don't you?"
"Hm?” she murmured, raised her head to look up at him. "Oh, I zoned out for a minute. Sorry."
Leaning down, he pressed a warm kiss to her temple. "You okay, baby?” he whispered.
Sara’s eyes closed, and her head rested on his shoulder. "Better than okay. It started to feel like the problems between us would never end. Now I'm so relieved, and it's so good to be with her again. At the same time, it's like a dream. I hope I won't wake up and find out it's not real."
"Afraid it won't last?” he wrapped his arms around her.
She snuggled tight, drawing comfort and strength from him, and nodded. "I admit I'm careful. Am I supposed to do such a thing with my daughter?"
His hand smoothed the long silk of her hair. "Brianna seems as happy as you are about it. Being young, she's bound to get over it faster and not worry about it. Your concerns are deeper and go beyond her and David. What you feel is okay, love."
Sara tipped her head back to study his face. "How do you understand me so well? I know I need to stop making comparisons, but David never did."
He skimmed his fingers over her cheek. "Maybe he never bothered to look beyond the surface. You tend to blame yourself, but if he wanted to know you better, he would have. Sometimes you're lucky enough to meet someone you can know almost as well as yourself."
What he described was what she'd wanted all her life. All she ever wanted stood right in front of her, within reach. "That's what I want for us, but I don't know how to let go."
"Give it time. We have all the time in the world."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Michael Donovan, CEO of Donovan Enterprises, stood in his modern office on the seventeenth floor of the Donovan Building in the heart of Manhattan, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his thousand-dollar suit. The matching jacket lay carefully folded over the back of hi
s chair. Most of the staff had gone home for the night, and he welcomed the quiet after a long, busy day.
Nicole would be waiting for him, ready to talk about her daily progress on their upcoming wedding in September. Odd, but he didn't want to go home.
His eyes swept across the room. After Gabriel left, he immediately redecorated to make the office his own. Lush, expensive carpet, a mahogany desk, and plush chairs for visitors he'd chosen himself. A gleaming side table positioned by the windows held a tall crystal vase, always filled with fresh flowers. Among countless others, his personal assistant took care of that task.
All to uphold an image of the company, the family, and himself. DE's stellar reputation was widely known. From the outside, Michael seemed to have it all. Money, connections, a gorgeous fiancée, and the Donovan name.
He didn't want for anything, or so it would seem. Why, then, did restlessness plague him? Why did each accomplishment fail to satisfy? Make him want more? Reach for more?
Michael walked over the thick carpet to the window. From there he watched the streets far below as cabs ferried people through the city, people jammed the sidewalks, going God knew where in such a hurry. The same rush he engaged in daily.
Meetings, deadlines, parties, fundraisers, functions of all sorts. Dinners and weekends away with Nicole filled any spare time he found.
In spite of it all, a cavern of emptiness yawned inside of him. Gabriel left the company, and Michael stepped into the shoes he'd waited for all his life. He was crazy to go. Or so Michael thought. His brother left the city, even the state, to work as a carpenter. On an island. Gabe claimed to have found happiness. How did he find the elusive element Michael hadn't yet discovered?
Now that he and Nicole were at long last together he still didn’t feel satisfied. Michael felt baffled. He’d loved her since childhood. Gabriel's insistence that Nicole had ulterior motives for being with him pissed him off to no end. All his life, he'd chased after Nicole Dupree. The ultimate prize. Michael fought his brother's attempts to discredit her, but during his brother's last visit, doubts crept in, and he couldn't dispel them. Even his parents acted differently. They didn't say a word to him about it, but he could see it in their eyes.
