Tides of Hope: It's Never Too Late For Second Chances (A Nantucket Island Romance Book 1)

by Dawn Tomasko

  A sardonic smile twisted his mouth. "Do you? Why now, when you could have done it a thousand times? Because she might die? Over and over, you called to push her buttons, to piss her off. Do you know how upset she got whenever you called? At night, she laid in bed, listening to the night sounds, afraid you’d keep your promise and come here to get her."

  Under his tanned skin, David's face paled. "I'm sorry. For a lot of things."

  "Not good enough."

  "I loved her."

  Gabriel's eyes went diamond hard. "I love her, she's got me now. She tried to help you, and you hit her. You didn't even have the sack to take responsibility for your screw-up. Instead, you deceived your daughter and let Bree be mad at her mother for months. Do you have any idea how she suffered for your actions?"

  "Yes,” David agreed and rubbed a hand repeatedly over his forehead. “I’ll be quiet, I won’t upset her. I just want to go in and see her,” he moved forward in an attempt to get into the room.

  Gabe's hands rested on the door frame. "The hell you will. You don't deserve the chance, and she wouldn't want you here. If she does want to see you, it'll be on her terms, and you'll have to go through me first."

  As David's jaw worked, Brianna came up behind Gabe. Her arm went around his waist, and he turned to look down into her upturned face. Gabe shook his head. Not even for Bree would he allow David admittance into Sara's room. After a long moment, she let out a sigh.

  "Dad, let's go down to the cafeteria.” Father and daughter walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner on their way to the elevators.

  “She’s a good girl.” Charlotte tugged at Gabe's hand. “Come down the hall with me, I want to talk to you about something. Gary will stay with her.” Gabe hesitated, but she persisted. “Let’s go.”

  Gabe turned to Gary, pointed a finger in his face. “You’re my friend. If you want to keep it that way, no one gets in here besides Brianna and the staff, you got me?”

  Both Charlotte and Gary knew it was grief talking, so they took no offense. “Don’t worry, I got it, Gabe.”

  They walked to the other end of the hall and sat in chairs by a window overlooking a small man-made pond. A path led from the water feature to a flower arbor, not unlike the garden Sara planned to create in the backyard at the cottage.

  Charlotte's voice pulled him from the torture of his mind. “When Sara's better, and it’s time to take her out of here, she’ll need a lot of help. There won’t be time to work on the house when she recuperates.”

  Gabe frowned. “How does this matter at all?”

  When Charlotte reached for his hand, her bracelets jangled. “Why don’t you spend days working on the house, and nights here with Sara? We can take shifts. You know we love her and want to help. If she shows the slightest sign of waking up, we'll call you right away. When you take her home, the house will be finished. A gift to her.”

  "When I take her home? Charlotte, if I take her home.” He threw himself into a chair. “The doctors said we don't know if she'll make a full recovery even if she does wakes up. I talk to her, touch her, and she just lies there. If she doesn't come back,” his voice broke.

  “Have faith. She’s going to come back to us. I know it. I feel it.” Charlotte's eyes sparkled with moisture. “I won’t accept anything less.”

  “We don't know if that will happen,” he bit out harshly.

  “I know it will. I know her. She's strong, she loves Brianna, and she loves you. More than she ever believed possible.”

  He shook his head. "Sara didn't tell me she loves me."

  Charlotte smiled, smoothed a hand over the rough beard on his unshaven cheek. “Oh, Gabe. Sara loves you. On our trip to the Cape, she told me, not that she needed to. We had a long talk about her feelings for you.”

  Gabriel’s jaw trembled, and his lungs worked like bellows. Anguished sounds tore from his throat while emotion turned him inside out. Head bowed, he rested his elbows on his knees.

  "I told her not to say it back to me. Not until she could say it without reserve. Why did I put conditions on her feelings, Charlotte? On our relationship? I'd do anything to hear those words from her now."

  "Sweetheart, you’ll hear them.” Charlotte leaned over and held him tight. "We have to think positively. It will help her.”

  "I don't want to lose her. We just found each other. She's the best thing that ever came into my life. I swear I'll never give her another second of grief the rest of my life."

  "You've never given her grief. Only love."

  When the storm of emotion passed, he pulled back, blotted his sleeve over his face. “You’re a hell of a woman, Charlotte Silva.”

  She smiled, wiped tears from her cheeks. “Yeah, that's what they tell me.”

  Gabriel almost found it in him to smile. An idea occurred to him. “Charlotte, who owns the cottage?”

  With a tremulous smile, she patted his cheek. "I thought you'd never ask. The cottage belongs to me."

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gabriel stood on a ladder, his tool belt slung low around his hips. Cedar shingles filled one wide pocket and the other with nails. Today, he'd replace shingles on the exterior of the house.

  Being here felt wrong. All he wanted was to sit by Sara, hold her hand, touch her hair and skin and talk to her. The only thing holding him here was the hope that when she woke up, and he brought her home, the completed cottage would bring her joy.

  At seven in the morning he came, his heart heavy as lead in his chest as he worked mindlessly until four o'clock. Then he showered and went back to the hospital.

  With a few nails clamped between his lips, he slid a shingle in place, he tapped gently with a hammer to align the bottom. The rumble of a car on the road made him pause. Someone parked out front. A car door slammed.

  He made his way down the ladder and slid the hammer into the tool belt.

  "Michael?” His brother walked up the driveway toward him, dressed in jeans, brand-new work boots, and a green pocket t-shirt. Michael in work boots? "I had no idea Gucci made work boots.”

  He stopped two feet in front of Gabriel. "How's it going?"

  Incredulous, Gabriel's brows drew together. "What are you doing here?"

  "Mom told me about Sara. I'm sorry, Gabe. You have no idea how much. How is she?"

  Still shocked at his brother's presence, Gabriel shook his head. "There's been no change. We're fortunate she doesn't need a ventilator. They think she may wake up, but we don't know when."

  Michael nodded. "You're finishing the house?"

  Gabriel looked up at the house where new shingles mingled among the old. "Yeah,” he said in a voice rough as sandpaper. "It's a homecoming present."

  "Got a hammer?"

  His dark head whipped toward his brother. "What?"

  "A hammer. Maybe another tool belt? Thought I'd give you a hand."

  Overwhelmed, Gabe compressed his mouth in a hard line. Bowing his head, he put his hands on his hips. Michael's hand gripped his shoulder. Then Michael pulled him in for a long, hard hug.

  Once they finished the shingles, the brothers tore out the old countertops. Together, they fit the new countertops on the cabinet bases.

  "They look good,” Gabe said once they finished, and clapped his brother on the back. "Sara picked them out."

  "She has good taste.” Michael ran a hand over the Caesar stone. "She loves my brother."

  Gabe didn't speak for a long minute. "Thanks for the help."

  "Sure.” Stretching out his muscles, Michael groaned in satisfaction. "Feels good to do hard work."

  For the first time since Sara's accident, Gabe smiled and held up a hand toward his brother. "I have to say it. You did an excellent job, but I can't get past the outfit."

  His brother looked down at himself, turned this way and that. "What? We're wearing the same clothes."

  "We sure as hell are not. Brand-new boots, perfect jeans, even your t-shirt has a crease on the arms from the iron, you pansy. You've spent
too much time in designer suits, bro."

  Michael grinned. "Yeah, maybe I have."

  Gabriel took two beers from the refrigerator and handed one to Michael. "Let's call it quits. I need to shower and get to the hospital. I spend nights with her."

  "Can I come?” Michael asked. "We can grab takeout, and I'll stay with you."

  Overwhelmed with gratitude for his brother’s presence, Gabe's jaw worked as he unstrapped his tool belt and laid it on the kitchen table. "I'd appreciate the company."

  Gary sat in a chair in the corner of Sara's room going through emails on his phone while a nurse charted her vital signs. Right before six o'clock, Gabe came in with a visitor.

  "Hey, Gary. You alone?"

  Gary stood up and stretched. "David took Brianna out to dinner because he's going back in the morning. I sent Charlotte home. She's tired and needs to rest."

  "Let's make sure she doesn't overdo it. You've waited a long time for this baby. Thanks for staying, buddy. Meet my brother Michael."

  The men shook hands, made small talk for a moment before Gary finally left for the night. Gabriel went over to Sara's bedside, with Michael close behind.

  "Hey, baby,” he crooned, kissed her mouth, forehead and cheeks. "It's me. Miss me today? How are you?” Gabriel combed his fingers through her long hair, spread it out over the pillow. “Did the nurses exercise your legs?”

  Michael put his hand on his brother’s back. "She's beautiful, Gabe."

  Gabriel gave a small smile. "Yeah, she is. She'd be mortified meeting you here, like this. She offered to go to Connecticut with me to work things out with you. I love her, Michael. She’s an amazing woman."

  Michael reached out to slide his hand into her still one. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sara."

  Gabe stared at his brother, unbelievably moved by the gesture and still a bit bewildered by his presence.

  People talked in hushed voices. God, her muscles ached, her arms and legs heavy and impossible to move. A warm hand smoothed across her forehead, down her arm. Her hand was lifted, pressed to soft, warm lips. They vibrated when he talked. Her hand felt wet.

  By degrees, her awareness increased. Darkness slid away, layer by paper thin layer. Sound and sensation assaulted her, some soothed, some irritated. The beep of machines. The efficiency of a person moving her limbs. When she tried to wake, to talk, the darkness returned.

  Later, female voices, familiar and comforting. From behind her closed lids, there was light. Then two male voices. One she didn't recognize. One she did. At last, her mind formed a coherent thought. Gabriel.

  She tried to say his name, but the seam of her lips barely opened, dry and stuck together. Sara tried harder this time. Only a rasp of sound came from her throat. Open your eyes, she told herself.

  "Open your eyes,” he begged her. The harsh glare of ceiling lights made her blink. "Dim the lights,” his voice demanded urgently. Immediately the harsh light softened.

  "Sara? Come on, baby open those gorgeous eyes.” The warm of his hand spread to hers as held it in a firm grasp.

  Doing her best to focus, she turned toward the sweet voice and his eyes locked with hers. Sharp pain lanced through her head, but she needed to keep her eyes open, needed to see him.

  "Sara,” his voice croaked, then he leaned down to wrap his arms around her. "Oh, God, you’re awake, you’re awake.”

  He gently eased his hands under her back and neck, held her close, and sobs shook his big body. Wanting to comfort, she struggled to lift a hand to his hair.

  When he finally pulled back, he gently laid her on the sheets to look down into her eyes. Cupping her face with their noses nearly touching, Gabriel whispered, her name falling from his lips again and again.

  Tears splashed on her face, hot from his eyes. "Welcome back, sweetheart. I love you. I love you. Thank God, you came back to me."

  "Easy, love,” Gabriel coaxed, gently eased her from the bed into a wheelchair. Kneeling at her feet, Brianna tucked a soft blanket around her legs. "Time to go home."

  "My legs are wobbly,” she complained softly.

  After he had dropped a kiss on her forehead, he knelt down to place her feet on the supports. "You'll get strong. We'll go nice and easy."

  Reaching out, she buried her hand in the thick silk of his hair. He turned to press a hot kiss to her palm. Gabriel steadied her, made her feel safe. Since waking up, there was an aching vulnerability she couldn't shake. Almost every moment, her hands touched some part of him, kept him close. Without him right there, panic rose up to choke her.

  Charlotte, Gary, Brianna and Michael stood in the room, all ready to lend a hand and be part of her return home. In the last week, those she loved surrounded her, protected her, and continually thanked God for bringing her back to them.

  One of the best moments had been meeting Michael. Certain gestures and expressions reminded her of Gabe or Toni. Gabriel’s openness made an interesting contrast to Michael’s more reserved nature. Tall, lean and serious, he told her Gabriel had never been happier and welcomed her to the family. While the brothers still needed to work things through, Sara could see they were in a much better place.

  Right now, with all the people she loved most in the hospital room, the time came to go home. Overwhelmed, Sara closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her face, and Gabriel leaned close, gripped the arms of the wheelchair. His strong arms bracketed her. Warmth from his body surrounded her, making her feel safe.

  "What's wrong, baby?” he whispered in her ear. "How can I help?"

  Focused on his voice, safe in the cocoon he created with his body, she whispered in his ear. "Too many people."

  After a brief nod and the quiet murmur of speech, the room began to empty out. Unable to keep still, her hands moved restlessly on the blanket in her lap. Bowing her head, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

  Gabriel knelt at her feet, his hands on her knees. "Don’t be sorry. You need to do what feels right. Later, we can visit with everyone, when you are ready."

  "Bree."

  Gabriel motioned for Brianna to stay. "I'm here, Mama."

  "I didn't mean to make everyone leave,” she repeated.

  "Our friends can see us when the time is right. We're all happy you're with us. That's what matters.” Gabriel unlocked the wheels. "Ready?"

  Sara nodded.

  Bree gripped her hand as Gabriel pushed the wheelchair from the room. A nurse walked beside him, repeated instructions for caring for her at home and gave Gabriel a stack of paperwork and prescriptions. Gabriel lifted her up and settled her his truck, buckling the seatbelt. Bree sat in the back seat, leaning on the center console close to her mom. The three of them drove away from the hospital toward the cottage on Massachusetts Avenue. Towards home.

  As the car eased to a halt, Sara's mouth dropped open. "Oh,” she exclaimed. "The house. The shingles, the windows. Even my flower pots on the front porch.” With shining eyes, she gave a tremulous smile. "Oh, Gabriel. You've been working hard."

  "Gary and Michael helped. I wanted you to get better without worrying about the house.” He came around to the passenger side and scooped her up in his arms. “ I can’t take the credit, it was Charlotte’s idea.”

  Brianna gathered medication, cards and flowers from the back seat and closed the car door.

  Sara always loved being in his arms, but under these circumstances, she wanted to go on her power. "I feel silly, I can walk."

  With a gentle yet firm grip, he stilled her squirming. "Of course, you can. Indulge me. I might carry you everywhere from now on. Today is a special day. It's a homecoming present. You worked as hard as anyone. Wait until you see how it turned out."

  As he maneuvered through the front door, she realized the furniture she'd ordered had arrived in her absence. "We set it in quickly, but we can arrange it any way you like.”

  “I love it. It looks even better than I envisioned.”

  “See the countertops?” he asked, set her on her feet, but kept a firm arm around her
waist. "No more seventies orange."

  They walked to the kitchen, where she ran a shaky hand over the smooth surface they’d chosen together, and she smiled. "So beautiful. I can’t wait to cook in here. I thought it would take months,” she murmured wistfully.

  Gabriel he ducked his head to catch her eye. "You're not sad, are you? The lease is six months, honey. They have to hold up their end of the deal. You have months before a decision needs to be made. There’s still plenty of work left to do, so don’t think I’m letting you off the hook."

  Relieved, she nodded. "You're right.” She leaned back against his chest and tilted her head to kiss his neck. Weak from disuse, her legs threatened to fold under her. "Thank you."

  "There are plenty of odds and ends left. Big jobs, too. The yard, for one. There’s no way I can do that without your expertise.” He knew just the right things to say, and she loved him for it.

  Bree, who’d been too quiet for Sara’s comfort, put her hand on her mother's shoulder. They would talk later, and Sara would make sure her daughter was okay. "Are you hungry, Mom? Would you like a cup of tea?"

  "Tea would be great,” she said, suddenly tired, shaky and a bit nauseous. Gabe knew and swept her up in his arms again to set her on the brand-new sofa.

  "Why is she fighting me? She doesn't want to let me help,” Gabriel muttered in frustration. A few days after Sara's return home, Brianna sat with him at the kitchen table over morning coffee and breakfast. Her mother let her do most of the caretaking when Gabe wanted to be just as involved.

  Brianna broke off a piece of coffee cake and popped it into her mouth. "She's always been independent, Gabe."

  "I love her, and I want to help her. We're in a committed relationship. We need to be there for each other. It’s as if she feels like a burden to me, and nothing could be further from the truth.” Frustrated, he dragged a hand through his hair.

  "You're right.” Bree gave his hand a squeeze. "But all her life, she's learned to lean on herself. That's why I need to go."