by Leanne Davis
Tears filled Sarah’s eyes. Scott got up and came around to her; he pulled her up and into his arms. “It all doesn’t have to be done today. In fact, none of it does. You lost your father. You deserve a few days for that. Sean and I will take care of things today. There’s always tomorrow.”
Angie wished she could tell Scott everything she’d done wrong; everything weighing her down like her feet were suddenly stuck in dried concrete. She wished she had someone to share the burden of her life with. But she couldn’t make herself tell them. Especially not now that Sarah’s father had died. They had so much to deal with without Angie adding her pathetic, self-imposed problems on them. She knew they’d rally around her, help her, hold her, if she needed it. But the truth was she couldn’t ask that of the Delanos. They needed that from her, she couldn’t ask it of them.
There was something wrong with her. She knew it down in her gut. No one made the kind of terrible mistakes in their life as she did, without their being something wrong inside them. Everything Sean had said last night was right. She ran from everything, blamed it all on Vanessa, and on Amy, and on him. She did everything but admit what was wrong with herself.
And now she’d destroyed everything here, the one place she had sanctuary; Scott and Sarah’s house. She’d ruined it. And she had no one to blame but herself. One moment she’d been listening to Sean, feeling his pain, his confusion as much as she felt her own, and the next she had been nearly attacking him to have sex with her. She didn’t know what happened to her. One moment she was holding his hand not hating him, for the first time in years, and that quick her guard was down, and then she was on him, kissing him, sleeping with him.
Her face flushed as she sat in the Delano’s brightly lit kitchen, as they moved around, she flushed in shame and embarrassment with herself. For she couldn’t blame Sean for any of it. Not this time. It had been all her.
She also knew all of last night was a complete and utter shock to Sean. She was sure he’d been about to stop them when she’d nearly panicked, nearly cried out for him to hold her, to care for her. She had wanted more of a connection from him than sex. She desperately needed affection, care, understanding and an emotional connection. Afraid to ask for such things, she settled for sex.
She hadn’t slept at all. She’d gotten up this morning with every intention of leaving Seaclusion before seeing Sean again. It was Sunday morning. He wouldn’t be out and about so early. She’d be gone before he even woke up.
She fiddled with her coffee cup handle, now she just had to tell the Delanos. They wouldn’t understand. How could they? She’d shown up out of nowhere, in tears, to leave nearly as abruptly as she’d come, all without any kind of explanation.
The girls finished eating and one by one drifted off toward the living room, to watch cartoons and play. Angie watched them in their little footed purple pajamas and ratty morning hair. They were so cute, they could break a heart. She felt an odd stirring in her. Her entire life was a mistake, a disaster, and yet the odd flutter of her baby felt like something good to her.
If Sarah hadn’t been so distracted with her own life, she’d long ago have noticed something was off with her. But this morning she got away with it.
Sarah got up and started the tea kettle. Angie took a deep breath before she gently said, “I’m going to have to leave town today. I know it’s lousy timing, but I have something I need to get back to.”
“Today? It’s Sunday. What could you have to get to?”
Angie couldn’t hold Sarah’s gaze, nor meet Scott’s. “Please don’t make a big deal of it. It’s just things are―”
“Wrong. Things are wrong with you. When are you going to tell us?” Scott broke in before she could finish. His gaze on her face. Demanding. Scott was finally demanding answers. And much as she wanted to tell him to go to hell, she couldn’t.
“Nothing is wrong, Uncle Scott. I just needed a breather.”
“You haven’t smiled but twice since you’ve been here. You don’t talk, you hardly eat. I missed it when you hid Amy, but I don’t miss it anymore, I know when something is really wrong with you. What is it?”
Angie stared at the napkin in her hands. She wrinkled it and started to tear pieces off. “It’s nothing.”
Scott sat back in his chair; his gaze zeroed in on her. “When you wanted me to find out about your pregnancy you shoplifted from Sarah’s store. Remember that? Well what did you do last night that has you thinking you need to skip town at seven in the morning?”
Angie shifted in her chair, how could Scott be so perceptive? Sarah came closer as if she realized Scott was onto something here.
“I’m not sixteen anymore. I can do what I want.”
“Yeah? You sound about sixteen now. What’s going on?”
“Scott, maybe you should back off.” Sarah’s tone was calm and soothing.
“Bull shit. I know when Angie’s hiding stuff. Now what is it, Angie? Did you quit school? Run up debt? Crash your car? What is going on with you? I know something is.”
Tears filled her eyes, she couldn’t raise her head. She could not physically raise it to meet Scott’s gaze. She couldn’t stand the disappointment that would soon be in them.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“You’re not leaving yet. Sarah just buried her father. She needs help, hell you need our help. I can see it in your eyes. I’ve given you weeks to come clean with me. You don’t seem inclined to. Fine. We’ll play your waiting game, but you’re not leaving. You’re not running off from Seaclusion.”
“I can go whenever I want. I can—”
Angie’s tirade was interrupted as the back door suddenly opened. All eyes turned toward the cool air as Sean came walking in, dressed in gray sweats, a flannel shirt, and his dark hair messy, and barely held in the rubber band. Hair that might still be messed up from her fingers.
He looked tired and hung over. His face was pale, eyes blood shot. But he was up and here at seven-thirty this morning. Why? She dropped her gaze. She had not intended on seeing him. He stood in the doorway, his gaze taking in the scene, landing and staying on her.
“I didn’t think you’d be up for hours yet. You look a little worse for wear. Are you okay?” Sarah came toward her little brother.
He took his eyes off Angie. To his sister. She felt some of the tension leave her as Sarah wrapped an arm around her brother, clucking over him as if he were fifteen and shorter than her instead of grown-up, and towering over her.
“I’m okay. Hung over. How you holding up?”
Sarah shrugged as fresh tears filled her eyes. She smiled with self-deprecation. “I guess I’m not as together as I’d like. I can’t seem to control my tears. I just…I can’t believe he’s dead. And there’s mom to deal with now, and I can’t even picture what to do about that. And now, Angie’s leaving, it’s all so much. I can’t seem to get a grip.”
Sean’s gaze came right back to her again. Angie could feel it as she kept staring at her dark coffee, now lukewarm in her cup. She stood suddenly, her chair scraping back as she walked to the sink, dumped the cool liquid and poured herself more. She jumped back when Sean came closer to her at the counter. He tapped his coffee cup on the counter to signal he wanted coffee too. His body was close, his head looked down at the top of hers. She could not force herself to look up and smile casually. She wanted to. She wanted to look up, smile breezily, and say hello, Sean. She wanted last night to be so casual, so unmemorable, that she had no opinion of it. No discomfort from it.
But she couldn’t pull it off. Because it wasn’t that way. It was a huge big deal to her. One that shamed her. Confused her. Made her act like this.
She topped off her mug, and then with unsteady hands set the pot down. His face was close to hers. She could see the black, scrubby hairs of a barely-there beard on his chin. Her breath made a loose hair move on his ear. She was swallowed by his deep, soulful gaze on her. Judging her. Knowing her intimately now. Not knowing her at all. Knowing her
most of all.
“You’re leaving? And why is that, Angie?”
He looked at her as he spoke. He kept his tone casual, and at ease.
Shame filled her gut and warmed her cheeks. She stared down at the floor. “I can’t stay here,” she whispered.
“Right. Sure. And why is that?”
Her gaze snapped up to his. She stiffened under his obvious disbelief and disdain of her actions. Finally she mumbled, “Personal reasons.” She went back to sit down.
Sean turned toward the room and leaned back against the counter. “Personal reasons? More important than Sarah could use your help, after all her dad was buried yesterday.”
Angie flushed. He was right. She was running out on Scott and Sarah over her own personal failures. Of course Sean knew exactly why she was running. Again. She looked up at him, his eyebrows lifted, his eyes locked into hers, challenging her. He’d known. She realized it as he looked at her. He somehow had known she’d bolt today. And that’s why he was in Sarah’s kitchen at seven thirty on a Sunday morning, hung over.
Scott was watching them. She could feel him looking from her to Sean following the conversation. Scott had an uncanny way of reading people, of picking up on the unsaid things in life.
Scott suddenly stood up. “You’re not leaving. I mean it. I need to stay here today with the kids, and so does Sarah. Why don’t you two go and check on Tina. Could you do that for us, Angie? Please?”
Like she could say no to Scott. He rarely asked her for anything. Ever. Shame filled her. Of course she could help out. How could she even have been willing to bail on Sarah when Sarah needed her the most? And bail on them over something as trivial as her shame and embarrassment.
“Yes. Yes, of course, I will. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that. I’ll stay a few days.”
“Besides I thought you had a thesis to write? I haven’t seen you crack a book or pick up pen, or even turn on your lap top.”
“Scott, quit acting like—”
“Like what, Sarah? Her father? I will never, damn well quit acting like her father. Or Sean’s. You tell me who else is going to do it? Who else cares like I do?”
Scott’s love rippled through her, into her lungs, and shortened her breath. “I know. I thought coming here I’d be able to concentrate, but I haven’t been able to. I thought maybe leaving, I could. But I’ll figure it out.”
Scott stared at her. “Don’t for a second think I believe you’re stressed over a thesis paper, Angie Peters. When you’re ready to talk, we’ll be here.”
Angie got up again; ready to flee to the privacy of her room. Sean called after her, “Can you be ready to leave by ten?”
She stopped dead. He actually expected her to go with him? To be trapped in a car with him? She turned her expression revealing her doubts and surprise. But Scott and Sarah were there between them. So she nodded politely and then fled.
Sean passed several hours of his hangover by working on the old Ford truck that Scott had recently taken in to restore for the local veterinarian in town. He was finishing up, organizing the shop tools when Scott came in.
“What happened between you two?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be an ass. I was there in the kitchen. I saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“What Sarah didn’t; you slept with Angie. My question is why? And why did it send her packing out of here?”
Sean worked harder organizing the tools to keep from looking into Scott’s accusing eyes. He was nothing if not protective of Angie. Scott could still take him in a fight, if he so pleased.
“What do you want me to say? It’s between us.”
“It’s not just between you when it gets Angie acting like that again.”
“Like what?”
“Like all ashamed, ready to run, ready to hide from the world again.”
Sean threw down a tool. “That wasn’t me. She’s been like that since she got here, and you damn well know it. Just because something is wrong with Angie, doesn’t make it my fault. Besides what the hell is it your business?”
Scott glowered at him. Sean side stepped him, taking his coveralls off as he pushed hair behind his ear.
“You know what’s wrong with her, don’t you?” Scott’s voice was quiet, calm, deadly serious.
Sean thought about lying, avoiding, but he finally straightened and met Scott’s mean scowl. “I do. So what? It was an accident. I overheard her telling Vanessa.”
“Vanessa? She told Vanessa? And not us? What is it, Sean? What’s going on with her she’d confide in the woman she hates?”
“No. You ask her. I’m not responsible for that. You can’t make me tell you.”
“Why did you sleep with her?”
“I don’t know. Ask her. Ask her everything. She instigated it. Not me. I don’t have a damn clue what she thinks, what she wants, or why she acts how she acts. I never did. And face it, you don’t either.”
Scott bristled. “She’s vulnerable right now. Something is wrong with her; otherwise she wouldn’t be back here.”
Sean was tired of always being the bad guy when it came to Angie. He turned around, throwing a wrench against the metal walls of the building. It hit hard, clanging in piercing echoes. Scott watched the tool fly with an open mouth of surprise.
“Well, so what? Something was wrong with me too. I buried the man who raised me yesterday. It wasn’t just Sarah, you know. But the thing is, I wasn’t even his. I was never Denny Langston’s damn son, so I was a little out of it last night. So when your precious, not so innocent niece, came onto me last night, I accepted. Forgive me if I don’t feel like taking all the blame again for Angie Peters’ secrets.”
Silence echoed through the big, cold, building. Scott watched him. Sean felt like a horse’s ass for letting his temper fly. He turned to finish as if it hadn’t happened.
“You found out?”
“Yeah. Big deal. No surprise there. I was never Denny Langston’s son. Just his burden. He always knew it. I always knew it. The only one who didn’t was Sarah.”
“I’m sorry.”
There was a sting in the corner of his eyes. He refused to turn to Scott. To the only man in his life who had ever given a damn enough to care about him; to fight for him, to get angry at him when he wasn’t living up to his potential. A brother-in-law, who had taken him in when no else would have ever bothered. And how had he repaid Scott? Sleeping with Scott’s beloved niece. The one thing that Scott wouldn’t tolerate was Angie being hurt. And Sean had done just that.
Sean added, “Don’t tell Sarah. It won’t do any good. It will make her feel worse.”
“I won’t tell her. But when you’re calmer, you should. You should tell her because she loves you and you need to see nothing you do will ever change that, for either of us.”
Sean didn’t turn. He stared down at the tools before him. “He was a monster, my real father.”
“I don’t think genetics mean shit in this case. I know you. You’re no monster. You’re my wife’s brother. You’re my brother too. End of story. Nothing will ever change that story.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of being saddled with other people’s cast offs?”
“As in you and Angie? No. Never. Forget that line of thinking. And Sean?”
“What?”
“This won’t be over for you. Talk to me. Talk to Sarah. Don’t go on by yourself. We’re your family. I’m sorry but your parents never really were parents to you and Sarah. We are. Let us do our jobs.”
Sean couldn’t look at Scott. Tears escaped his eyes. He never cried. He wasn’t about to let anyone see him. Scott put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He didn’t watch Scott leave, or turn and let him witness that he was crying like a girl. Sean immediately brushed at the offending, sissy dampness on his cheeks. He quickly pulled himself together, turned the lights off in the shop and locked up.
Chapter 9
Sean came around the corner of the shop. Ang
ie was sitting on the steps of the deck, her legs pulled tight to her chest, arms around her knees, and head on her knee caps. She looked about twelve all tucked into herself. Where was the aggressive, nearly angry woman of last night? That Angie was gone and left behind was lost little Angie, the shy little girl who was afraid of her own shadow.
“You don’t have to come with me to my mother’s. I’ve been handling her my entire life. Scott was just being an ass because he figured out we slept together, and he thought I was to blame.”
Angie stood up, her long legs graceful, athletic. Dressed today in brown cargo pants, low on her hips with a casual t-shirt and coat. Her hair was in a French braid down the center of her skull, the tail of it trailed down her back.
“I’ll come.”
He shrugged and turned his back on her, walking to his trailer, where he went inside to grab his wallet and keys. When he came out, Angie was standing there stock still, as if posing for a portrait.
He walked to his truck, a silver king cab, dual wheeled beast of a truck. His rolling wet dream of a truck. He’d longed for it all his life as other kids longed for ivy league colleges or leaving Seaclusion. He merely wanted this truck.
Angie stared at it. “You have any idea how much gas this thing guzzles?”
“Sure. I pay for it. Get in, tree-hugger. We’re not taking your sissy, little girl car.”
“I’m not a tree-hugger. But why do you need a truck like this?”
“Because I like it. Get in. Put the carbon footprint at my feet. Ease your guilt.”
She got in, glared at him. He started the one ton, diesel fed Dodge engine. It roared to life. Angie rolled her eyes at his blatant display of macho manliness.
“I always wondered what men who drove trucks like this were using them to compensate for.”
Sean looked over at her as he warmed the engine up. “I don’t know, Angie, why don’t you tell me? What am I compensating for?”
