Let's Move On (The New Pioneers Book 4)

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  Let's Move On

  Book Four of The New Pioneers

  by Deborah Nam-Krane

  Amazon edition | © 2014

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  DEDICATION

  THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Zainab Oginabe-Kensit Zainab gave up a lot when she was with Richard. Now that she's on her own, why not enjoy Robert's attention?

  Richard Hendrickson He let a dysfunctional family be his excuse for not growing up and for stepping out on Zainab. Can someone as smart as he is think his way out of his mess?

  Robert Teague He blew up everyone's lives in pursuit of justice...or was it revenge? He knows he shouldn't ask Zainab for the time of day, but he can't help himself. (Not the first time he's used that excuse.)

  Emily Graham Emily's marriage was a casualty of Robert's investigation. Now all she wants to do is take care of her daughter and keep Richard's company afloat.

  Mitchell Graham Richard wasn't the only one who couldn't get out of his way; the Hell of it is that Mitch had more to lose.

  Jessie Bartolome Being used by Robert and then finding out what really happened to her mother would have taken down most people, but she's a survivor. (A happy ending with Martin was an added bonus.) So how is she going to fix the mess her friends and family have gotten themselves into?

  Martin Shepard He wasn't the type you'd ever describe as a Knight In Shining Armor, but he was the only one who made Robert squirm. Who said nice guys couldn't stand up to bullies?

  Miranda Harel It wasn't possible for her to deny how much she wanted to be with Michael after watching him get shot. This time her friends were going to tolerate their relationship. How difficult was Michael going to be about getting what he wanted?

  Michael Abbot He didn't expect anyone would ever think of him as a hero, but he was going to run with "useful" if that made Miranda's life with him a little easier.

  Lucy Bartolome Hendrickson No one understood better than she did why her son wouldn't want to accept her help, but it was a pity that money couldn't buy redemption.

  Helen "Hellie" Graham Only two years old and she already has her mother's smarts and her father's charm. Emily would do anything to protect her, and so would her friends.

  Ari Schonenfeld Emily's convinced he's exactly what Richard needs. But perhaps Mister Schonenfeld has designs on something else?

  Tom Bartolome Jessie's back-from-the-dead father who murdered her beloved mother Josie. The only thing everyone agrees on is that he has to stay in prison for the rest of his life.

  DEDICATION

  For Sheryl Light, who deserves a happy ending, even if the journey is the point

  THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU

  He was waiting in the little diner they’d agreed on. It was an all-night spot he’d started visiting when he was in college. He liked to come back now and then. He kept thinking it would make him feel better to reflect on how much things had changed. But it didn’t. It only reminded him of how much they had stayed the same. He wanted her to meet him here because he felt like maybe things finally had changed, if only a little.

  He saw her walking down the stairs and straightened up. He wasn’t cool enough not to, although he did try.

  She didn’t smile when she saw him, but he smiled anyway. He stood up as she came nearer. "Can I get your coat?"

  "It’s sort of cold," she said.

  "I’ll order you some coffee."

  "What if I want hot chocolate instead?"

  "I’ll even throw in the marshmallows."

  She handed him her coat, sitting down as he hung it up. The waitress came over and he ordered the hot chocolate. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

  "I didn’t think I was staying that long," she said.

  "Maybe I can change your mind."

  She tapped her fingers on the table, but she didn’t take her eyes off of him. "I think I misunderstood when I got the call—"

  "I guess I was banking on that," he said honestly. "But did you really... misunderstand?"

  "I certainly didn’t think dinner was what you had in mind."

  "They make a really good burger here."

  "I’m disappointed. I thought for sure that you would have known that I don’t eat that much red meat."

  "So just eat a little now."

  "What else do they have?"

  "The fries are pretty good."

  "Guess that goes with the burgers."

  "And then there’s the ice cream."

  "Again, it’s cold." He smiled, and she did too.

  "You have a very nice smile."

  "That’s an old line."

  "But it’s true. You do. And you don’t do it enough."

  "I guess you haven’t seen me at my happiest."

  "Do you still blame me for that?"

  She sighed. "I never blamed you for that."

  The waitress came back with the hot chocolate. He looked at her for a moment, then took the liberty and ordered two burgers. She shrugged, but didn’t say anything.

  "For what it’s worth, I’m still sorry."

  "Really? Or am I just easy to apologize to?"

  "There is that, but everyone else seems to be...back to business as usual."

  "Not quite," she said as she sipped her hot chocolate, "and you know that. Frankly, I’m not sure you’re very sorry about that."

  "Maybe half-sorry," he conceded.

  "Because you don't want to admit what you're capable of?"

  "I’m not a nice guy," he said. "I’ve never pretended to be."

  "Maybe, but I think you’ve pretended to be a lot worse than you really are too."

  "I’m not pretending now." She held his gaze, but didn’t say anything. The food arrived, and he picked up a French fry.

  "Your food will get cold," she said after a moment.

  "Yours too."

  "But I think you’re hungrier."

  He put the French fry down and put his chin on his hand. "Anyone ever tel
l you that you are one cool customer?"

  She shook her head. "No. No one has ever said that to me ever," she said honestly. "And I don’t think I am."

  "Then what is it?"

  She thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I don’t know. I think I just don’t know how to play games very well. I was never very good at them, which probably explains my non-existent dating in high school. And now I think I probably could, but I don’t want to."

  "And yet you’re still here."

  "I said I didn’t want to play games. I didn’t say I didn’t want to see you."

  "So...cards on the table?"

  "Why not?"

  "Fine," he said, running his hands through his red hair. "I knew who you were before that night, but I didn’t get a very good look until then, I swear. That’s important, because I don’t want you to think there was anything else behind what happened with everyone else. But I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a big, fat bonus because you’re gorgeous—you know that—and...real. I know you don’t play games, and I like that. And anyone who had you but didn’t appreciate you doesn’t deserve you."

  She raised her eyebrows, then took a bite of her burger. He watched her chew. "Well," she said at last, wiping her full, dark lips, "I think you have me confused with someone else. No one has me, and I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone. I’ve been with people; there’s a difference."

  "You don’t like to lose yourself?"

  She shook her head. "No, I don’t see the need. I don’t think you’re that way either."

  "Maybe, but it’s different. I need to hold onto myself. There’s so much someone else wouldn’t like. I think it’s a different story with you." He smiled. "Maybe you’re just not as desperate as everyone else."

  "Maybe, but I have been."

  "Tell me about it?"

  "Are you sure you don’t already have notes on this? I wouldn’t want to bore you."

  "I know your parents’ names. I know who your siblings are and where all of you were born. I know where you lived, and when you moved. I know the names of the schools you went to but I don’t know how you felt. I don’t know how it changed you, or if it did at all. I can make guesses, based on what you’re like right now, but I’ve found more often than I want to admit that you can’t predict something based on history, or even backtrack based on what’s in front of you."

  "We’re not just the sum of our parts or experiences?"

  "No. We’re that, but what we started out with—that usually means more." He smiled a bit. "No matter what we might say otherwise."

  "Perhaps," she said a little sadly. She ate more of her burger, and he did the same. She wiped her mouth, then picked up a French fry. "Why don’t you tell me what you want to know?"

  He took another bite. "Okay. You lost your dad when you were pretty young. What was that like?"

  She shrugged. "It was sad, of course. I was seven, so I don’t remember him that well but I loved him. He was a good dad. He told me and my brother stories, and he liked to make us laugh. He wanted us to work hard, and to him success wasn’t having money, it was how well you could help other people. I think he was right."

  "He loved my mom too, and I know how hard it was for her when he died. She was sad for a long, long time. It didn’t kill her—we had lots of friends and family—but something was missing for her. So I was happy when she met my step-father. She was happy again, and I knew my father would have wanted that for her.

  "My step-dad was a widower too, and he had a son, which was a big bonus. We were all a big, happy family."

  "So what changed?"

  "Why do you think something changed?"

  "Because your parents live just two states away and you’ve only gone to see them three times in the last three years."

  "I’ve seen my brothers quite a bit."

  "That’s true. You’ve taken short trips to Michigan and Chicago quite a few times to see them but not your parents. Why?"

  She put her burger down and looked off to the side as if she were thinking of something. After a few moments, she looked at him again. "They had my sister about fifteen years ago and we were all really happy but it sort of seemed like...they forgot about the rest of us. And that’s normal, because a new baby takes a lot of time for a little while. But I think it was also something else. I think they wanted to be in a little cocoon by themselves. My brother and I had each other, so we let them."

  She played with her fries a little bit before she continued. "And maybe we shouldn’t have because they don’t seem happy anymore. Not like they used to. They don’t... I don’t think they’re enough for each other, even with my little sister. They married a family, but then they forgot that and by the time they remembered, it was too late."

  "Why is it too late?"

  "Because they can’t just be our parents now that they need to be parents. Just for the sake of their marriage. And in a way, I guess, we forgot how to be their kids."

  "So what’s the lesson learned from that?"

  She shrugged. "I don’t know that I learned anything, except that maybe you have to be with someone for the right reason. Not just to fix something else."

  "Then isn’t it lucky?"

  "What?"

  "That there is absolutely nothing wrong with you."

  She smiled and looked away. "Shame," she whispered, leaning forward, "that the same can’t be said about you." He smiled back.

  CHAPTER 1

  Emily was on her way to South Station when she heard her name called out behind her. She closed her eyes and didn’t turn around. She knew who it was.

  "Emily, wait!" Mitch called out breathlessly. She reluctantly turned around, trying not to look too grimly at him.

  He finally caught up to her. He gasped for a moment, and she shook her head. "Mitch, haven’t we established that running isn’t good for your knee?"

  She still cared. "Then take my calls."

  "How about you settle for emails?"

  "How about I don’t settle at all and you let me talk to you?"

  The similarities to their courtship disgusted her. "What I wouldn’t have given three weeks ago for you to run after me. How happy I would have been if I had to apologize to my office mates for all of the calls from you. But that’s the sad story of us, isn’t it? Because you don’t chase after me unless you think you really, genuinely, can’t have me. And once you have me—" She held out her hands. "Well, there’s always something or should I say someone better, isn’t there?"

  "Emily, I’m a jerk, I know that—"

  "And I’m an overly demanding perfectionist shrew, right? I don’t get all of the other things you have to do. I am too self-centered to see how much more important everything else is. And I’m not grateful enough to take whatever time you can spare for us without complaining. Right?" Mitch didn’t dare answer. "So why don’t you go back to your office, to your email, to that whore you just can’t get enough of and be grateful that now you don’t have to worry about bitchy, little old me?"

  "In how many different ways do you need me to tell you how sorry I am? Or that I’m an ass? Because I’ll say them, just don’t walk away."

  She narrowed her eyes. How dare he be so desperately plaintive now? Why was she the bad guy, as usual? "I am tired of hearing sorry after I throw some kind of stupid, dramatic fit. I am tired of being played. You want to say something? Then you explain why I am never good enough when you come up across a flake who cheated on you like it was her job and according to Martin still hasn’t graduated." She put up her hand. "No, don’t, because I guess it’s obvious what her appeal is."

  "God, Em, I am not sleeping with her—"

  "No!" She held up her finger. "I’m done, okay? Thanks for two years of mostly good, and thanks for Hellie. But I am done with everything else. Don’t be sorry, don’t make excuses. Just accept the consequences of your actions and leave me alone."

  "Do you really want it to be over?" he asked fiercely.

  "I really want," she said,
pulling on every last bit of strength she had, "to stop feeling like this. I really want—I really, really want—to be happy. And I don’t care what you explain or excuse or how you rationalize, you don’t make me happy."

  "Yes, I do," he said and now he felt tears coming to his eyes. "I do, because you love me."

  "Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, but I’m going home."

  "Fine, then I’ll be here tomorrow and every other day until you talk to me and we can work this out."

  She smirked. "Yeah, you do that." She got in the crosswalk and was halfway across the street when she turned and shouted. "But I won’t be here!"

  "What?!?" But by that time she was across the street and the light had changed.

  CHAPTER 2

  Miranda walked into Michael’s hospital room earlier that afternoon to find him sitting on the bed, fully dressed, with his arm in a sling. "Oh," she said, then saw the bag she’d brought last week packed up again. "So they’re letting you go today?"

  "They actually let me go two hours ago, but I told them I needed to wait for my ride."

  She looked down at the floor so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge his double-entendre. "Uh huh," she said at last. "And only I could...take you home?"

  Michael shrugged innocently. "I knew you were coming anyway."

  "And how did you know that?"

  "Because you have been coming here every day at exactly the same time for a week." He looked at his watch and frowned. "Although you’re about half an hour late today. What’s up with that?"

  "Did I mention this J-O-B I have?"

  "You did," Michael conceded. "But I know for a fact that the boss is partial to me."

  Miranda thought of Michael’s cousin Richard that morning. She looked off to the side and raised her eyebrows. "Somewhat partial today," she said, half to herself.

  "Really? Damn—what do I have to do next time if getting shot isn’t enough?"

  She shook her head and smiled. "Just as I suspected—it was all for show."

  He stood up and walked right up next to her. "It was a little more than that."

  She squirmed but didn’t move. "Wow," she said at last. "You’re out of bed. How about that?"

  "That part about me being released today, remember?"