by Nicole Meier
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SARA
Sara’s head was ready to explode. Her father had lived this whole other life beyond the art galleries and constant stream of parties and superfluous girlfriends. He’d had a second family of sorts, only it wasn’t what she’d expected. In some ways, TR had gotten a taste of his own medicine—a child kept from him, the way he had kept himself from Sara all those years. The mixture of satisfaction and bewilderment ebbed and flowed in her mind as she tried to slot it all into place.
At some point she was vaguely aware Charlie had returned from dropping off Sam. The back slider had squeaked on its tracks as Charlie and the dog slipped through and then retreated to the far end of the house. Sara could tell, from the bumping around in the master bedroom, her husband was performing the all-too-familiar task of packing an overnight bag.
But Charlie and his unavoidable departure were the least of her concerns at the moment. She was too busy unwinding the tangled string of information being fed to her by TR.
“So you’re telling me Marie just returned, with your son, and didn’t have some kind of ulterior motive?”
“It’s not as easy as you make it sound.”
“Why not?” Sara wanted to shake him. Her father was willfully ignoring what was potentially one of the biggest developments in his life. “You said you met Bo nearly four years ago, when he was seventeen, right? That seems like an awfully long time for someone to keep a secret.”
“I know.” TR fiddled with a placemat.
“Maybe she thought you had money. Did you ever think of that?” Sara was aware of the rise in her voice. She wanted her father to take this seriously. Why did she always have to be the adult when it came to her parents? Couldn’t someone besides her be the mature one in the situation?
“I don’t think Marie was after my money.”
With his words Sara recalled that TR was broke. But if Marie had been gone for so long, she would have had no way of knowing that. And by then, it may have been too late for her to turn around.
“Then why was she back?” And why were you able to eagerly reunite with her and not able to put that kind of energy into reuniting with your own daughter?
TR pushed out a puff of air. Sara’s eyes flicked to the robe pulled tight, shrouding his tender burn wounds. She could tell he was growing physically uncomfortable. They’d been huddled together in the kitchen for a long time now. Her father likely needed a break and probably wanted to change out of his pajamas. Even so, she pressed him to continue.
He begrudgingly went on to share how Marie had raised Bo with her husband, Robert, for the first half of Bo’s life. TR had been left completely in the dark. But after a time, relations became rocky between Marie and Robert. Things deteriorated, and she left her husband to flee back to Italy.
TR was adamant he was utterly unaware of any son for the first seventeen years of the boy’s life. “Seventeen years of oblivion,” as TR put it. Then, one day four years ago, both Marie and Bo landed on his doorstep in Oregon. They’d taken TR completely by surprise. Marie claimed she still loved him. And the boy was a withdrawn teenager. While TR might have been pleased to see them, he wasn’t. If anything, he was profoundly confused.
“So you invited them onto the property, and they unpacked their bags? Just like that?” How was it possible TR and Marie had picked up as if they’d never left off? The thought of him embracing this other family so easily caused a spark of Sara’s envy to ignite.
TR shook his head. His eyes had grown weary. “No. Not just like that. There’s been a lot of commotion, so to speak.”
Commotion. Was he referring to the reunion with his ex-lover and her adult child, or the fire? Something in her gut told Sara the two events might be somehow linked.
“Does this have anything to do with what happened to your house?”
TR scratched at his head, tufts of his thick hair flopping every which way, reminding Sara of whitecaps in a choppy sea. He seemed to be debating something. Before she could press him further, he abruptly got to his feet.
She frowned. “Where are you going?”
He offered a half smile, pulled down at the corners with a trace of melancholy.
“Sorry, kid. I’m getting pretty stiff sitting here. I need to get up and stretch. Maybe take a hot shower to ease the muscles. Do you mind?”
She vacillated. It would be a setback to let him go. She urgently wanted him to keep going, but she could also tell he was visibly sore. His body was still healing, after all. “Maybe we can pick up right after your shower? We still have so many things to discuss.”
He nodded, shuffling away. “Yeah, sure. Maybe.”
Sara watched him leave. TR may have been forthcoming—finally—with elements of his past. Not necessarily about her, and why it had been so easy to walk away. But also he was disappointingly not willing to uncover much about his present circumstances.
She speculated why he didn’t want to go back to his house. Was he perhaps content being back with Sara again? That despite a lack of apologies he wanted to somehow make things right with her?
The door to the guest room clicked shut. Sara remained in her chair and contemplated. There were too many holes in TR’s story. The biggest mystery was why he’d led her to believe there was no one else, no other family to help him after the fire. There was clearly discord between him and Marie and Bo; otherwise he would have returned to be with them weeks ago. For some reason, he didn’t want to speak to them or even let them know where he was staying. Bo had acted genuinely surprised when Sara informed him TR was living with her.
Why all the secrecy?
Reaching for her cell phone, she unlocked the screen and began scrolling through her calendar. As usual, boxes of bright red blinked up at her, indicating the list of appointments and obligations requiring her attention. With a hasty swipe of the finger, she brushed her responsibilities to the side. None of this mattered. Other than Sam’s well-being, everything else would have to take the back seat. Even, she regretfully realized, her marriage. TR was like a forceful magnet, drawing her ever closer. It was too strong to ignore.
She must have been lost in thought, because Charlie was suddenly there, the shine of his polished work shoes snagging her attention as they crossed the tile floor. A lump formed in her throat. How long would he be gone this time?
“So I’m off.” Trepidation hung in his voice. “You going to be okay?”
She turned to face him. “Yeah, I guess I’m going to have to be. Where are you headed?”
“East Coast and back again. I should be home in four days.”
Sara straightened. That wasn’t so bad. It was certainly a shorter trip than some of the recent ones.
“So what happened?” he asked, angling his head toward the guest room.
She sighed, standing up so they could talk more intimately. “He told me some stuff . . . He didn’t even meet Bo until four years ago. But I still think he’s hiding something.”
Charlie frowned. “So he’s got two kids he ignored all their lives? Nice. Honey, you don’t owe someone like that anything, no matter who they are. When are you going to kick him out?”
Sara stiffened and pulled away. “He’s still my father, Charlie.”
“Does he know that?”
Resentment bit at her. “Whether he does or not, I do. And I still have questions. And . . . he needs me.” Why was she defending him? A short time ago she’d been ready to kick her father out herself. It was like TR and Charlie had her so turned around she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.
She felt the weight of his stare.
She supposed she didn’t blame Charlie. It couldn’t be easy for her husband to have a relative stranger living under the same roof, especially when there was no end date in sight. She would lose her mind if either of his parents ever chose to show up unannounced. They were judgmental and overbearing. She doubted she’d last two days in that scenario.
“I’m working on it,” she said, not waiting for hi
s response. Bending to brush invisible crumbs from the table, she debated whether or not to share more with Charlie. But he was leaving, so what was the point?
“Does he know that?” Charlie’s head angled toward TR’s room.
Sara pressed her lips together. He was closing off from her again.
In the old days, she would send Charlie off to work by throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face into the folds of his uniform. She’d wish him safe travels and request he call her at every free minute from the road. But standing there now, inches from her husband’s clean-shaven face, his airline uniform starched and stiff, she sensed the returning of tension. Her heart sank.
Charlie’s eyebrows arched as he waited for her to answer.
“No, not yet.”
“I don’t know if his staying here is healthy for you. In fact, I know it’s not. Look at all the pain he’s caused. I don’t understand why you can’t see that. I’m trying to help you if you’d just let me.”
And you leaving this frequently is helping? she wanted to ask.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t get sucked back in, Sara. I don’t think it’s good for any of us.” He planted a dry peck on her cheek before uttering his goodbyes. “I’ll be back by the end of the week. We can talk later, but I hope you intend on making some changes.”
Sara mumbled goodbye and did her best to gather up her discontent. She didn’t necessarily like the thinly veiled ultimatum being given. Her situation with Charlie would have to be placed back into its compartment for just a little while longer. For the next four days, she had to focus on getting to the bottom of things with her father.
Sara sat at her computer and calculated. The steady stream of water from TR’s shower could be heard in the background. She estimated she had about fifteen minutes of privacy. She needed to be quick if she were to make her list of calls without TR overhearing.
It was Tuesday. Sam would be at school for another few hours and then off to soccer practice. She had no intention of leaving town and her son when a potential asthma attack might rear its ugly head again. Glancing at her schedule, she noticed the next day was fairly empty. Without thinking, she picked up the phone and dialed the home of Sam’s regular playdate. As the other end rang, she told herself that if this worked out easily, then it was meant to be. The idea had come to her last night when she’d lain in Sam’s bed. Today, she was going see if she could pull it off.
Don’t force anything, she thought. If it happens naturally, then you’re meant to go.
Maggie picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Oh, hi, Maggie. It’s Sara.”
“Hey, Sara. How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Sara cringed. She knew that was code for, “Why haven’t you been present at the school meetings?” Maggie was the PTA secretary and caught every little thing. Sara supposed this was her job; Maggie did record the meeting minutes after all. But while her friend was generous with her time, Sara worried Maggie might be judging her.
All moms judged one another, didn’t they? Sara envisioned the women at school keeping mental tallies on their peers: those who volunteered the most, those who left their kid with the nanny more often than not, and those who flaked out on carpool duty. Sara was suddenly ashamed to admit she was once one of these women on the righteous mommy brigade, tsking under her breath and holding others to a higher standard than even herself sometimes. Anyone who reminded her of Joanne’s unreliable parenting had been silently scorned. The ugliness of her attitude was apparent now. Who was she to decide how another parent should spend their time?
A light shiver ran through her. Sara imagined she might be getting a taste of her own hypocritical medicine at that very moment, as she prepared to eat humble pie and ask Maggie to pull up the slack.
“Yeah, I know I’ve been kind of absent lately. I’m still dealing with some family matters. The situation has gotten more, er, complicated than I’d like.” Her teeth snapped together. She immediately wished she had put her predicament another way.
“Oh no. I hope everything is all right?”
The excuse Sara had been using ever since TR arrived was that a family member had fallen ill, and she needed to help out. The PTA members reassured her they understood, and luckily another member stepped in to fill Sara’s shoes. She hadn’t realized it until now, while talking to her friend, but it had actually been a relief to hand over her obligations. Oddly, Sara didn’t miss the part where she was required to run the show.
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking. But I’m actually calling with a favor. I have an especially crazy day tomorrow, and Charlie is out of town—”
“Want me to take Sam after school tomorrow? Adam would love to have him come over and play.”
Sara exhaled. “That would be so great. Thank you! I think I should be done around dinnertime, and I could pick him up then. Does that work?” She’d calculated it all out in her head. If her drive to the coast took just under two hours each way, she should still have plenty of time to drop Sam at school, race to Sandpoint, do some digging around, and return by sundown.
“You bet,” Maggie answered.
Sara closed her eyes. Maggie hadn’t hesitated a beat with her offer of help. Perhaps Sara had merely been projecting her own disapproval back onto herself, and any negativity from the other moms had been in her own head.
“Thanks, Maggie. I owe you one.”
Sara said goodbye and hung up the phone. She would make a point to be more grateful. Because as much as some of the women drove her nuts, she also acknowledged how many would step in to help when she requested it. She only hoped she could return the kindness.
The pipes in the walls let out a squeak that ended with a thunk, announcing the finish of TR’s shower. Sara tensed. With quick hands she began straightening pillows and gathering up dog toys, pretending she’d been occupied with chores. Reaching the front room, she caught a glimpse of her panic-stricken features in the wall mirror. Calm down, you fool.
Pulling her shoulders back, she shook off her nervousness and told herself it was silly to feel as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. There was no reason for guilt.
But TR would be emerging from the bedroom soon. There wasn’t any more time to plan her visit to the coast. She was just going to have to improvise. Shaking off the apprehension, Sara reassured herself she was a savvy person who could figure it out as she went. She’d lived for years with Joanne, for Christ’s sake. Her life back then had been the very model of improvisation.
She’d become obsessed with uncovering TR’s secrets. Whatever the cost, Sara was determined to get to the bottom of her father’s story. The draw of knowing more about the fire, her father’s apprehension to return home, and details of a newfound sibling was all too powerful to deny. She was going to find out. Even if that meant going it alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SARA
Wednesday morning’s departure to the coast took longer than she’d planned. What she’d thought would be a quick itinerary turned into over an hour of responsibilities. After depositing Sam at school with a hug and a wave, parking TR on the living room sofa with a tray full of snacks and a marathon of old movies, and fretfully changing her clothes twice, Sara finally aimed her car west.
She’d given the excuse of needing the whole day for personal appointments and felt fairly certain TR had zero idea where she was headed. After their disrupted conversation from earlier and the need to care for Sam in the evening, she was even more determined to get back to the coast.
TR had only offered a lazy nod as she left. He seemed more consumed with keeping Acer’s nose away from his plate of food than inquiring about Sara’s whereabouts for the day.
As the miles ticked by, Sara’s mind ran over scenarios of what could possibly happen once she reached her destination. For one, she’d be getting there much later than anticipated. Second, and perhaps more troublesome, her arrival would once again be
unannounced. But that was how she wanted it. It was a risk. Showing up and surprising Marie was most assuredly going to ruffle some feathers. But Sara feared any kind of advance warning might cause Marie and Bo to keep her off the property altogether.
She wanted to find out all she could about her half sibling. She’d believed she had no real family left anymore. Bo’s existence had changed all of that.
She’d been psyching herself into donning an armor of bravery, but as her wheels crunched over the gravel drive of TR’s home, her faux exterior cracked and threatened to crumble to the floor.
She’d been anxious from the start. Confronting one’s potential half sibling could do that to a person. What if Bo didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like him? Given all that had happened, she wasn’t sure she could take the regret of creating yet another bad family relationship. She cautiously held on to a small piece of hope. Being there was opening herself up to disappointment; she realized this, but she was there anyway.
Parking under the cover of shade, Sara cut the engine and waited. Her gaze darted from one end of the property to the other, her senses on high alert. She was keenly aware of her heart moving rapidly against her rib cage. The extra-large to-go cup, now drained of coffee, hadn’t exactly calmed her nerves.
Pushing the driver door ajar, she paused. A chilly breeze seeped inside, causing her to shiver. Her hand shot to the back seat to retrieve a scarf. The coastline held a soggy quality—even more so than Portland. There was something brackish and raw lingering, the fall elements at their fullest exposure. A gust pushed her door, opening it farther. Sara crept out as the surrounding landscape rustled. Her pulse picked up. Hastily, she surveyed the front yard.
Relax, she told herself. Quit being so jumpy. It was only the wind, which had picked up, sending treetops to bend to and fro in a kind of a shuddering dance. Willing herself to move, Sara went in search of her brother.
She folded her arms across herself, steeled for another confrontation with either Marie or Bo. Surely they would’ve heard her pull up. There weren’t any other vehicles around, but then again, nor had there been on the first day she’d visited. This was strange to her. How did anyone get around? Especially off the precarious dirt road that led to the main highway.
