California Homecoming (10 page)

“Estate sales would be good for that. We can surf the Internet. You got Wi-Fi?” Mandy pulled a computer tablet from her voluminous purse.

“Yep, got all of that when I had the lights and heat turned on.”

Mandy snapped a keyboard on the tablet, brought up the internet and began typing. “Look, here are some estate sales coming up in the bay area over the next month.” She scrolled through the page. “There’s one with Victorian furniture in two weeks. I can get off and go with you. Paul can come with his truck.”

Mandy’s face became a little pinker at the mention of Paul’s name.

Furniture would be a big hit to her bank account, but if she didn’t take the plunge she’d never be ready before the baby came. “Okay.”

“Great!” Mandy’s voice become more excited. “Then there’s a restaurant sale in Livermore in a month! Good stuff, but older, probably in your price range — what do you think?” She turned to face Sarah.

Sarah swallowed. “Sounds like a plan.” She broke off another piece of muffin and put it in her mouth. The texture had just the right crumble and the sweetness of the blueberry wasn’t overpowering. “These are really good,” she said.

Mandy flashed a smile. “Thanks! They can be the first part of one of your trademark breakfasts!”

Sarah laughed, but in the back of her mind she wondered what she was going to do about Rick. She was pretty sure Hunter would never come back again. The thought made her sad.

“What’s up?” Mandy asked.

Sarah shook her head. “My life is too complicated.”

“You’re saying this before you have a baby.”

“Yeah.” Sarah smiled. “It’s going to be a zoo around here after that happens.”

“You’ll handle it and you’ll have plenty of help. Elizabeth and Annie will be over here daily, cooing over the baby.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Mandy tapped her fingers on the table. “I think what you’re really afraid of is Rick upsetting this controlled little life you had planned.”

Bingo.

“You’ve got a point.” Time to move on from the morning’s conversation. “Let’s make a list of the furniture I need to get.”

“Sounds good.” Mandy poised her fingers over the keys of the tiny computer.

Sarah began to list everything she thought she needed.

After Mandy left an hour later, Sarah lay down on the bed she’d brought from her mother’s. It was mid-afternoon before she woke.

The day’s weather hadn’t changed, but she put on her raincoat and went to a warehouse store to get odds and ends for the bathroom. It was after five before she was done so she stopped for takeout on the way home. By six her evening meal, a pre-made chicken pot pie, steamed on the kitchen table. Sarah was sure it was loaded with calories, but now that her stomach had settled down she was hungry all the time.

She sat down to dig in.

Her cell phone rang and she glanced at the read-out.

Her mother.

The pot pie called to her.

Sarah decided her mother could wait and dug into the creamy vegetable and chicken mixture.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell pealed.

Her mother started talking as soon as Sarah opened the door. “I can’t believe you didn’t pick up the phone, Sarah! Down Daisy,” she said to the dog who was greeting her enthusiastically.

Daisy sat.

“Nice to see you, too, Mom.” Sarah shut the door and held out her hand for her mother’s coat.

“You can’t be that mad at me, can you?” Elizabeth said as she walked to the kitchen. “I only told Rick because I thought he should know what you were doing. He
is
the baby’s father.”

“He’s also the one who wanted me to get rid of it, remember?” Sarah automatically put the teakettle on.

“He assured me it was just a reaction — he didn’t really mean it.”

“You can believe that. I’m withholding judgment.”

“But he told me you agreed to see him as long as he stayed somewhere else.” Elizabeth sat. “In fact, he said you told him to stay with me.”

“It seemed fitting.” The low simmering anger threatened to boil over with the teakettle water.

“Ouch. I suppose I deserved that for sticking my nose in where it didn’t belong.”

Sarah thought of Hunter calling her Miss Nosey the night before. At least she knew where she got it. “Something like that.”

“Okay.” Her mother’s deep breath amused Sarah. “I’m sorry.”

Sarah pulled mugs and teabags from the cupboard, but didn’t say anything.

“Am I forgiven?” her mother whispered.

Sarah grabbed the kettle before it screeched, made the tea and set it on the table.

After she sat, she looked at her mother. “I’ll forgive you on one condition.”

“In addition to having Rick stay with me?”

“Yes. In addition.”

“Okay. What?”

The spoon clanked against the ceramic cup as Sarah stirred her tea. “You stay out of it from now on. I’ve agreed to see Rick, but I’m not sure it’s going to work.” She raised her hand when her mother opened her mouth to speak. “I’m not you, Mom. I didn’t want this to happen, but I don’t feel obligated to marry my baby’s father the way you did.”

Sarah put her hands on the table and looked her mother in the eye. “Promise.”

Her mother twitched her lips. “Okay. Promise.”

Sarah held up her right hand and crooked her little finger. “C’mon. Pinky promise.”

Elizabeth grinned and hooked her small finger with Sarah. “Pinky promise.”

Hunter stared at the pounding ocean waves peppered with surfers. The morning sun glinted on the whitecaps and the spray that developed when the surge of water slammed into the coastal cliff. Even on a February weekday morning, Santa Cruz drew people to the water.

Dolphins arced by the edge of the pier.

He wanted to be in the water, to get some part of his life back. He’d hoped a relationship with Sarah would help, but he wasn’t about to poach on some other guy’s territory. He’d already unknowingly done that once.

His brief affair with Lauren had been all heat, the danger of being caught by the brass intensifying the flame. It was only after she had died that he learned she was still living with her husband.

Sarah had concealed her pregnancy from him. He’d known something was up, but he hadn’t figured on a baby. Were all women duplicitous?

His mind flitted to his father’s gun still locked in the glove box. He had to get rid of it. The damn thing was too accessible. Firearms and post-traumatic stress did not go together. His therapist had drummed that into him during the year of treatment he’d received.

The mental injury had been worse than losing his leg.

He shoved his thoughts away and continued his walk down West Cliff. A word on a tattered paper pinned to a community board caught his eye.

AmpSurf.

What did that mean?

His pace quickened as he skirted the ice plant creeping over the sidewalk. Crinkling his eyes against the salty wind, he quickly scanned the announcement of an upcoming surfing clinic for amputees.

Was it possible?

He clicked his phone and went to the organization’s website.

Not only was it possible, but the group had been doing clinics for years for people exactly like him.

He laughed and picked up the pace of his morning walk. If surfing was possible, he could do anything.

Joe gave him the news he’d been waiting for when Hunter walked into his small shop later in the morning. “I have another sheetrock job for you if you’re interested. Starts next Monday.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“What do you have there?” Joe pointed to the roll of paper under Hunter’s arm.

Hunter rolled out the plans he’d drawn up the night before, working into the midnight hours to erase the impression of Sarah’s face from his memory.

“Much as I’m enamored by sheetrock, Joe,” he said, “I don’t think I want to do it the rest of my life.”

“Yeah. I get that. Coffee?”

“Okay.” Hunter pinned the plans down with beach rocks Joe kept for the purpose. “I want to start my own business making furniture and cabinets.”

“You were the only one who ever thought shop class was a good idea.”

Hunter chuckled. “Thirteen-year-olds and sharp objects. What were they thinking?”

Joe laughed and handed Hunter a cup of coffee.

The bitter aroma teased Hunter’s nostrils, diluting the resin odor in the shop. “I want to do a prototype.”

“What the hell is that?” Joe stared at the penciled outlines.

“A Victorian hall stand.”

Joe cocked his head. “Why? Who would want something like that?”

“A woman with a Victorian inn.”

“There’s something you haven’t told me, bro.” Joe drank his coffee.

“Nothing to tell. She’s bought an inn, wants to open, and has no furniture. I figure I get her to stick this in her hallway, with lots of my business cards, and her well-heeled clients will become mine.”

Joe snorted.

“What’s this girl’s name?” He put down his coffee cup. “Wait! Is this the woman you took out Sunday night? Oh, man.”

“Yes. But there’s no future. What I didn’t know was she’s pregnant and has a boyfriend I didn’t know about, either.”

“Crap. Lauren all over again. You okay?”

Hunter had to think. Making the plans and the possibility of surfing had given him a new perspective. “Yeah. I think so.”

“I still don’t understand. Surely there are other Victorian inns on the coast. Why torture yourself? Carmel really gets the tourists with the big bucks.”

“I don’t know. She’s haunting me, Joe. I know it’s a bad idea.” Hunter shrugged. “But I seem to be stuck on it. The piece intrigues me. Lots of doodads. It’ll take some concentration. I think I need that right now. When she kicks me to the curb again, I’ll be able to get it through my thick skull that I’m not wanted.”

Joe chuckled. “Whatever you say.” He opened a door to a separate section of the shop. “I do all my cutting in here. Keeps the sawdust off the finished boards.”

“Sounds good.” But Hunter wasn’t really listening. He was imagining the joy on Sarah’s face when he brought the piece to her.

• • •

The nurse frowned as she looked at the blood pressure monitor on Sarah’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

“Nothing. A little high. The doc’ll take it again. Could just be nerves.” The redhead smiled. “Not to worry. I’m sure you and your baby will be just fine. Doctor Hadiya is the best.”

“Yes. My mother knows her.”

“The doc’ll be right in.”

The door gently closed behind the nurse.

The wait was mercifully short. A brief rap on the door alerted her to the doctor’s entrance.

Sarah relaxed in Hadiya’s gentle presence. The woman’s black hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back into a low chignon. Her dark brown eyes regarded Sarah with warmth.

“So what is going on with you?” The doctor rewrapped the blood pressure cuff around Sarah’s upper arm. “Are the pains still coming?”

Sarah shook her head. “Not so much. And they don’t seem as bad.”

Hadiya placed the stethoscope into her ears and nodded. “It was probably gas, as I suspected.”

Sarah tried to think restful thoughts — waving palm trees, steady rhythm of the waves on the beach — while the cuff puffed tight against her arm. Hadiya studied the meter as the air hissed out.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?” Sarah asked.

“Let’s do the exam and then we’ll see what’s what.”

Sarah laid back, a tremor of fear running through her veins.

Hadiya checked her abdomen, then rubbed chill gel over her skin, causing Sarah to shiver, but the tiny throb of her baby’s heartbeat always thrilled her, so she didn’t mind. Today was no different. Strong and rhythmic, the sound contented her.

“We’ll do another sonogram in about a month,” Hadiya said as she cleaned off Sarah’s abdomen. “You’ll have to decide if you want to know the gender if we can tell.”

“Already?”

“If we can tell,” Hadiya cautioned. “We can’t always determine it from the sonogram, but often we can.” She put her hand on Sarah’s arm. “I’m concerned about your blood pressure. It’s a little high. Have you had a lot of stress lately?”

Sarah tried to keep from laughing. “You could say that.”

Hadiya shook her head. “Not good for babies or their mothers. Unless you want to be on complete bed rest, you’re going to have to reduce the stress.”

“I’m opening an inn. I can’t get rid of the stress.”

Hadiya looked at her sternly. “I told you during your last visit to reduce the amount of stretching you were doing — and no heavy lifting. Nap when you’re tired. Are you following my instructions?”

“Yes. Well. Mostly.”

“‘Mostly’ isn’t going to do it. I want you off your feet at least two hours a day. If that helps with your blood pressure, then we’ll be okay. But I’m warning you,” Hadiya grasped her other arm, “you must be careful. With your mother’s history, there’s a chance you’ll have trouble carrying. We want to minimize that.”

Sarah nodded. Two hours a day. It’d be tough, but it would be better than complete bed rest. “Okay.”

• • •

When Sarah returned to the inn, the sun was glistening on the overgrown vegetation in the front yard. After getting out of her car, she walked over to the former garden and tried to see the bare bones of the garden. Three iron benches struggled against overactive vines.

She needed help to resurrect the space before Annie’s wedding, especially after the doctor’s new restrictions.

Sighing, she slung her grocery bag over her shoulder and went into the house. She was getting tired of frozen dinners, no matter how indulgent they were. Hadiya had chided her gently about weight gain.

Tonight she was attempting her college staple: tuna casserole. Still not good for the weight, but at least she knew what was in it — canned fish, canned peas, and canned cream of mushroom soup.

Well, maybe she didn’t really know what was in it.

She grinned at Daisy, who eagerly raced past her into the yard, did her business, and scurried toward the house before becoming distracted by a squirrel. After she satisfactorily treed the chattering rodent, Daisy trotted back to Sarah, head lifted high.