by Tara Randel
“In my position as mayor.”
“Please, you’ve been coming up with ways to better people’s lives since we were kids. Always planning fund-raisers or donating time and energy to other organizations. Remember our first lemonade stand?”
Zoe chuckled. “If I recall, all the proceeds went to the animal shelter.”
“Sounds right. We were in our save-the-mutt phase.”
“You always went along with me.”
“Because you always had a compelling argument to do good. Who could resist?”
“We did make a good team.”
“Until Mitch came on the scene.”
Zoe held back a smile. More like Mitch had made a grand entrance into her life.
She’d been at the park, checking off names for a 5K run to support cancer research. The runners had lined up at the start line when all of a sudden a guy with long shaggy hair came careening through the crowd on a skateboard. He barely missed the runners, hopping off the board right in front of her table, stomping his foot on the edge to make the board fly up into his hands. With an unrepentant grin, he asked if it was too late to sign up. She was speechless, but had nodded. After the race, he sought her out and their relationship developed from there.
So long ago. Where had that young love gone?
“He does have a way of making a statement,” Bethany continued.
Yes, he did. It served him well when he went hunting for big profile stories to document.
“I suppose I should hear him out. See what he has in mind. You’re right. I can’t run from this. Now that Mitch knows about Leo, he’ll never let me keep him out of his son’s life.”
“And you shouldn’t.”
True. But she couldn’t stop the worry and the excuses filling her mind since she’d laid eyes on him yesterday.
“Can I risk him taking Leo off on his own? In his current condition?”
“Do you think he’s even gotten that far in the process? From what you said, he’s dealing with physical limitations. Mitch may have taken off at a moment’s notice to cover an event or a story, but he isn’t unrealistic. He’s got to know that becoming a father to Leo will take time.”
Guilt washed over her. She’d been so overly concerned about how Mitch’s return would impact her and Leo’s life, she hadn’t really focused on him. The man who needed a cane to walk. Whose scalp looked like a jigsaw puzzle of scars. Who needed serious medical support. If she’d let herself dwell on his condition, she’d probably have broken down on the spot. Her once healthy, vivacious husband had been reduced to a shadow of the former man. Why hadn’t she been more sympathetic?
Because you don’t want him to hurt you again.
Maybe. But what person didn’t at least try for a little more compassion in a situation like this? Certainly not a selfish person. Is that who she’d become?
“I should ask him more questions when I see him again. He mentioned he had a referral to a local doctor.”
“Zoe, you guys have a long history together. I witnessed the crushing hurt you went through while trying to make things right with Mitch and it wasn’t working. The agony of deciding to divorce. I get that you’re afraid to remotely consider laying your heart on the line with him, either by co-parenting or helping him get through the recovery process.” She paused and met Zoe’s eyes. “But you have a big heart, my friend. No matter the personal stuff between you two, you can’t keep yourself from pitching in to aid those in a bind.”
At that moment, Leo rolled onto his knees and pushed up. Zoe held his hand when he staggered and plopped down on his diaper-clad behind.
“He’s going to be running before you know it,” Bethany said.
“Like his father,” Zoe whispered and just like that, the reality of their current situation hit like a ton of bricks.
Her husband was home. Alive. Injured. Wanting to know his son. It was all too much.
Bethany asked, “Hey, you okay?”
Zoe blinked and took a breath. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good. I don’t want to have to worry about you while I’m gone.” Bethany glanced at her watch. “And on that note, I have to run. I’ve got calls to make, then brunch with the family before I head to the airport.”
After she rose, Bethany scooped Leo into her arms.
“I’m going to miss you,” Zoe said as she stood. “Who else can I talk to about all this?”
“Mitch?”
Zoe shot her an annoyed look.
“Just a suggestion.”
“Which I will take under advisement. Now—”
The doorbell cut off her next words.
“Who could be here this early on a Sunday morning?” she wondered out loud, walking to the door while Bethany cooed her final baby goo-goos.
When the door opened, her eyes went wide to find Mitch on the porch, a white bag in one hand, a white-knuckle grip on the cane in the other.
“Good morning, Zoe. Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by.”
“Without a call first? Why would I mind?”
He winced at her sarcasm.
“If you’d asked you would have known.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. When Leo squealed from the living room, his shoulders slumped. Along with her displeasure. What a shrew she’d turned into.
“C’mon in,” she said, opening the screen door to let him in.
“Sorry. Next time, I’ll make sure to check with you first.”
As she closed the door, Mitch hobbled into the room. Leo hid his face in the crook of Bethany’s neck, but Bethany’s lips curved into a big smile.
“Mitch. I wanted to see you before flying out again.”
“Same here.”
Zoe came around Mitch and took Leo from Bethany’s arms. Once her godson was taken care of, Bethany wrapped Mitch in a gentle hug.
“I’d say you’re looking good, but...”
Mitch responded with a startled bark of laughter. “Truck wrecks will do that to a person.”
Bethany stepped back. “Really, it is good to see you in one piece.”
Leo squirmed and kicked. Zoe set him down among his toys.
“Good timing. Bethany was just about to leave.”
“Yep. Places to go. People to see.” Bethany hugged Zoe, then grabbed her purse from the couch. Pointing a finger at them, she said, “Play nice, you two.”
Silence mingled with crackling tension after Bethany closed the door behind her.
“I brought breakfast.” Mitch held out the bag. “Bagels and cream cheese.”
As if understanding the bag held food, Leo grabbed Zoe’s leg and tried to stand, one hand turned up as if reaching for the tasty treats. Zoe lifted him into her arms again.
“Would you like some coffee? I made a fresh pot.”
“Thank you.”
With Mitch following, she entered the kitchen, grabbing two empty mugs from the cabinet with her free hand. Leo bounced on her hip, a sign he wasn’t happy with his current location, so she settled him in the high chair and sprinkled cereal on the tray.
“Your mother remodeled,” Mitch commented as he set the bag down and leaned a hip against the counter.
“The kitchen was hopelessly outdated when I moved in. Mom finally decided to get the work done.”
The golden seventies look had been replaced with crisp white Shaker cabinets, a bold granite countertop and a dark floor.
He gazed around the room. “Samantha always had a flair for colors.”
“Actually, I picked out the color scheme. She wanted to go with red and black.” Zoe shook her head. “Too dark. We battled over that decision.”
A fleeting smile curved Mitch’s lips. “Your battles were pretty epic.”
Mitch shifted his weight from the one leg that Zoe noticed he favored. He sagged a bi
t, then straightened before moving to the high chair to shove some of the cereal closer to his son’s chubby hands. Leo grabbed Mitch’s finger and tugged, his nonsensical babble catching Mitch off guard. He froze, as if not sure what to do. Her breath caught in her chest as she watched. When Leo dropped his finger to capture the cereal, Mitch backed up to his original position, looking pleased.
“I did some thinking last night,” he said.
Zoe resumed pouring steaming coffee into the mugs and brought Mitch’s to him. He didn’t reach out to take it, still distracted by the interaction with Leo, so she set it on the counter, ignoring the subtle spicy cologne that she associated with him. How many times had she sniffed his pillowcase after he went missing, hoping for the sensory connection that triggered her memories? Making her feel he was still with her. Right up until the day it faded completely, leaving her bereft and filled with renewed sorrow. After that, she didn’t like to go into his closet for fear the scent on his clothing would bring her to her knees.
She hadn’t been sure how to process her life back then. She still wasn’t sure today.
“And what did you come up with?” She grabbed her mug and carefully sipped the too-strong brew.
“I agree that physically I can’t take care of Leo.” He glanced at his son and smiled before turning his attention back to her. The smile disappeared. “I’ll call and make an appointment with a local doctor first thing tomorrow.”
Okay, this was progress. She was all about taking action to get things done. “Can I help in any way? Drive you there? Sit in and listen to the treatment plan? Two sets of ears are always better than one, especially at a doctor’s visit.”
“That would probably be a good idea. I’m...” He cleared his throat. “Retaining information is still a little iffy.”
Her heart squeezed. He’d lowered his head when revealing that truth. Mitch had always been so sure of himself. To see the doubts reflected on his face broke her heart, but she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her sympathy.
“But I meant what I said yesterday. I want to be a part of Leo’s life.”
Upon hearing his name, the baby looked across the room to Mitch and sent him a goofy grin. Before she realized he was moving, Mitch inched closer to wipe the drool from Leo’s chin with his bib. These were all firsts for him.
“I get it, Mitch. But, I’ll be honest. I have to be cautious about whatever we decide, so let’s take it slowly.”
She took another sip of coffee to hide her reaction. Seeing father and son together was more complicated and heartrending than she’d anticipated.
Mitch settled against the counter again. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to come across so strong yesterday, but I need to know where I stand. You get that, right?”
She did.
“What about us?”
She nearly choked. “Us? There is no us, Mitch.”
“So that’s it? You’ve closed the door on any possibility that we can work things out?”
Did she want to rehash the past? No. Too much had changed since he’d left. “We made our decision.”
He stared down at his untouched coffee mug.
“Let me ask you a question, Mitch. Are you planning on going back to work after you heal?”
She nearly held her breath as she waited for his answer.
“I have to.”
Hurt swamped her, but she shoved it away. It wasn’t like she’d expected any other answer. “Then my response is still the same. There is no us.”
Leo began to fuss, an I-need-my-diaper-changed expression making his face red.
Zoe strode to the high chair and removed her son. “I need to take care of Leo. You know the way out.”
As she passed, Leo reached out for Mitch. She tugged her son closer and escaped the bleak expression in her husband’s eyes.
* * *
MITCH STOOD IN the empty kitchen.
He rubbed the ache throbbing in his temple. He hadn’t slept last night, instead sitting on Wyatt’s porch, trying to come up with solutions but only managing to muddle through the fog in his brain. His thoughts were fuzzy, as if he were looking at the world through distorted glass, never able to completely focus. He could see things moving on the other side, but they never came into clear definition. It was annoying, to say the least, while frightening at the same time.
He’d dwelled a lot on Leo, experiencing joy and fear in equal measure. Zoe was right. How was he going to take care of his son? Not just physically, but emotionally? He could barely figure things out for himself. His own emotions varied day to day, depending on how he felt or how much he could corral his dizzy thinking. Some days, he flew off the handle. Others, he was calm to the point of not being able to get off the couch. And financially? Would he work again as a photographer? That was the biggest nightmare of all, but not for the reasons Zoe would naturally accuse him of.
Yes, he’d seen the betrayal in her eyes that always appeared when he said he would go back to work. But things were different now. He had a son to support. The decision to continue in his career had nothing to do with ego or getting out of Cypress Pointe.
When he’d first started traveling, he enjoyed the freedom. Once he began buying into the fame, the excitement, jetting around the world, it crept under his skin. When he tried to explain the reasoning to Zoe, she didn’t understand. But he was hooked.
Now, his decisions had to be based on everything to do with the little boy he’d fallen in love with at first sight. Travel or stay put, it didn’t matter. He needed to provide for his child. If Zoe didn’t get that, then maybe things were finally over between them.
With a sigh, he pushed away from the counter, leaning heavily on the cane. On his way through the living room to the front door, he heard music floating from Samantha’s studio.
He changed direction and slowly hobbled to the back of the house. The scene he came upon was familiar, yet vastly different from the last time he was here.
Bright light filled the room. Samantha stood before a canvas, feverishly dabbing paint on a half-finished work. Colors bombarded him, from the bright yellow walls to the rainbow of different colored paint tubes on a rack to the canvases in various stages of completion scattered around the room. A jar of brushes in differing sizes and shapes lay on its side on the table. A clear glass held murky blue water. Cleaning fluid tinged the air. He leaned against the door frame, closing his eyes as memories assailed him.
Showing Samantha his first photographs and waiting for her evaluation. Picking Zoe up and twirling her in a circle after accepting his first real paying job, her laughter ringing in his ears. Arguing about the future and what would happen to their marriage. If he could remember all that, why not the events of an accident that had put him in this current situation? And why couldn’t he shake the sense of urgency to unravel the truth?
“Mitch. I didn’t know you were here.”
He opened his eyes, catching Samantha lowering her brush to wipe her fingers.
“I came by to check on Leo.”
“He’s something, isn’t he?” Pride infused her tone, surprising him. She hadn’t been very motherly with Zoe.
“He is. I’m excited to get to know him.”
“You will. Don’t let Zoe railroad you.” She pointed a paint-speckled finger at him. “You’re Leo’s father and have every right to enjoy that child.”
“Railroad?”
Samantha cleaned the brush she’d been holding. “Yes, railroad. Since she’s become mayor, she’s gotten bossy.”
Any more bossy than she’d always been?
“It’s not that the power has gone to her head, exactly. More like she has the power to get things done and won’t take no for an answer.”
“Zoe has always been passionate.” That was one of her many qualities that he’d been attracted to. Still admired her zeal to get the job done despite their
differences over the years.
“Well, now she has a title to go along with it.”
“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t thrilled about that?”
Samantha shrugged and got that elusive look that she used with art critics and dealers when she didn’t want to answer a question.
“It’s different.”
Meaning Zoe didn’t have time to take care of her. He recognized her pout.
“You always knew she was destined to run the town.”
“It was inevitable, I suppose.”
This would explain the tension he felt when the two of them were in the same room yesterday. At least one thing hadn’t changed.
She waved her hand. “But enough about me. Are you going to work while you’re home?”
He raised a brow. Hadn’t she noticed he wasn’t exactly in any shape to go out and scout locations to take pictures?
“I don’t have a camera right now.”
His words earned him a stunned expression.
“Zoe mentioned you were having problems remembering what happened the day of the accident?”
“Yes.”
He still could only piece together a few details of that day. Leaving the camp and driving the old pickup truck to the prearranged spot for...for what? It couldn’t have been work related since he’d left his credentials behind. Did it have to do with the refugees he’d been helping? Even his passport went missing, which held him up at the consulate when he’d wanted to return home. He really needed to talk to someone who was there. But who? He couldn’t remember even one name.
A fuzzy image flashed through his mind, only to disappear. Shadows obscuring a face? He blew out a breath in frustration.
“Mitch. Did you hear me? You can get another camera.”
Sure, he could. And then what? He certainly was in no condition to pick up where he’d left off. And even when he was ready, had his ability to pick out a subject been affected by the head injury? The blurriness he’d lived with for weeks after the accident had finally receded, but what if his vision was permanently damaged? He couldn’t consider that possibility. He’d built his life around a keen eye and sharp instincts. If they had been destroyed in the accident, what would he do?
