Читать книгу His One And Only Bride - Tara Randel - Страница 13
ОглавлениеMITCH HAD EXPECTED his wife’s surprise. After all, to her, he’d risen from the dead.
His hand gripped the cane that had become his lifeline. He wanted to heave it over the railing, but that meant lifting an arm that still needed rehab to function properly. Instead of cataloguing his injuries, he focused on his shell-shocked wife.
“I don’t understand. We were told... I thought you were...”
“Dead?”
She reached out to place her palms on the deck railing.
“The report was mistaken.”
“But... How... Why?”
“I was injured in a truck accident while leaving a refugee camp.”
She visibly pulled herself together. Took a step toward him, faltered and stopped. “Pretty soon I’m going to have a ton of questions, but right now...I don’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘welcome home’?”
He watched her struggle with this major surprise. “When did you get here?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
“How?” Her gaze took in his appearance and he knew what she saw. A guy who’d lost weight, whose complexion had turned pasty after weeks in the hospital. Not the image of the healthy husband who’d walked out of her life nearly two years ago.
“Wyatt. I called him to tell him I was heading home. He picked me up at the airport.”
A flush of red crept up her neck. “You didn’t think to call your wife?”
“I did, but considering how we ended our last conversation, I thought it would be better if I talked to you in person.”
She ran a hand through her shoulder-length black hair. What had happened to the long straight strands that had reached to her midback? In the hospital, he’d dreamed of running his fingers through it. Had dreamed of her easy smile, which was nowhere to be found right now. Had he expected her to jump into his arms when she saw him again despite the circumstances? Expect that old feelings would rush over her again? Disappointment swamped him. She looked like the same Zoe, yet there was something different about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“I’m sorry, you didn’t want to call me? Despite everything, didn’t you think I’d have wanted to know you were at least okay?”
He shifted as the weight on his weak leg grew uncomfortable. “I should have called, but after the accident and long recovery, I just wanted to get back to Cypress Pointe.”
She opened her mouth, then slammed it shut. His excuse probably echoed false, like so many of the ones he’d tossed her way in the past.
“Zoe, I realize this is a shock.”
“Really? A shock?” Her voice cracked. “We thought you were dead!”
“I get it—”
“Do you? We went for weeks not knowing where you were. I tried every number I could think of. Your assistant, Maria, got ahold of a few contacts who pointed us in the direction of Jordan. And then the only information she could find was that you were somewhere along the Syrian border. I hoped...prayed...”
He took a halting step forward to stand closer to his wife. Her familiar scent of vanilla mixed with a hint of floral enveloped him. All he wanted was to cup her sweet face and stare into her blue eyes. Instead, he met her gaze, which had finally moved from shock to anger.
The headache knocking at the back of his skull leaped to a full-blown hammer. He closed his eyes. Took measured breaths.
A soft touch landed on his tender arm and the muscles seized.
“Mitch. Are you okay?”
He slowly opened his eyes. “Pain. In my head.”
“Do you want to go inside? Get out of the sun?”
The old Mitch rebelled at her suggestion. He’d been cooped up for too long. Yeah, the bright light wasn’t helping the throbbing in his head, but he needed to feel the warmth on his skin, savor the earthy scent of sea and sand, listen to the waves rush upon the shore and ebb back into the blue water he’d dreamed of while gone.
“In a few minutes.”
The current Mitch tried to be more levelheaded, to take the advice of the doctors to not overdo. He hadn’t exactly been a model patient.
“At least sit down.”
He shook his head and immediately regretted it. “It feels good to stand.”
“Okay. Can I get you water?”
“Not right now. I just want to enjoy being here.”
A shadow crossed her face. He hadn’t known what to expect in terms of a homecoming. Confusion? No doubt. Awkwardness? Sure. Anger? Most definitely. Now that the conversation had stalled, he wasn’t sure which direction to steer it.
Zoe ran a shaky hand over her forehead. “So much has happened. Changed, since you’ve been gone.”
“I imagine. I know it’ll take a while to catch up.”
“Why did it take so long for you to contact...Wyatt?”
“I lost my memory after the crash. Only recently was I able to fit the pieces of my life together.”
The color washed out of her cheeks. “It was that bad?”
“Apparently. I remember driving down a dirt road, then waking up in the hospital. They told me I was unconscious for a week.”
“Why didn’t the hospital contact your family?”
“It was in a pretty remote area. I didn’t have my press credentials with me and my ID got lost in the confusion.”
Her brow wrinkled. “We got word that you were dead a year ago. What happened?”
“I kind of went rogue. After I left last time, with all that went down between us, I started traveling, working on my own and didn’t bother to report in to Maria. I don’t know how the rumor of my death started, other than I was near an explosion site early on, so I guess since I hadn’t spoken with anyone, they assumed the worst. The accident happened later.”
“But before, I tried to find you. I called different publications you’d worked with to see if you were on assignment and no one could get ahold of you.”
“I was off the grid.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It’s a long story. And since we’d decided to separate, I didn’t think it mattered.”
“This is overwhelming.” Zoe’s gaze swept over him again. Taking inventory of his shortcomings? He pushed himself to stand taller, even with the pain screaming in his leg. “I need to sit down.” She moved to a nearby wrough iron patio chair and dropped into the seat.
He followed, making sure she wasn’t looking before taking a bracing breath and lowering himself into a chair beside her. There was no way he’d admit how bad his injuries were. At least not until he got a handle on how things stood between them after his sudden reappearance. To his dismay, tears were rolling down Zoe’s cheeks. She brushed them away and said, after a bitter laugh, “When I got up this morning, I never expected to find out my husband is alive and back in Cypress Pointe.”
“I’m sorry, Zoe.”
She glanced at her clasped hands, then back at him. “You should have called me, Mitch. I would have come to get you. You are my husband.”
“Am I? Or was I?”
Her gaze slid away.
To be honest, he hadn’t been sure she’d come to his rescue. Sure, he’d never stopped believing, hoping, that her love for him would be bigger than their problems. Enough to push her out of her comfort zone and into his arms. But as his career took off, her connection to the people of Cypress Pointe had grown. Her loyalty to a town had been one of the sticking points in their relationship, so he’d decided to take the easy way out and call his friend instead of his wife.
“I wasn’t too sure about the husband part.”
She’d threatened to file for a divorce before he left. Had she followed through? He hadn’t signed any papers, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t had them drawn up. Is that why she’d tried to find him? To end the marriage for good?
“Yes,” she said in a quiet voice. “We’re still married.”
Question answered.
“I had the papers, but when we thought you were dead, I put them aside.”
The abbreviated relief evaporated. She’d made good on her promise. He hadn’t thought she’d carry through, but he had been wrong. About a lot of things.
He stretched out his leg to relieve the cramp twisting his calf.
“Everyone will be happy to see you.”
“Are you?”
“How can you ask me that?” Indignation laced her tone. “Of course, I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Glad he was okay” and “happy to see him” were two different answers. They’d had their share of epic arguments in the past but at her core, Zoe wasn’t mean-spirited enough to wish he’d stayed dead and gone.
She glanced at his cane. “So you’ll need more recovery time?”
He’d been told as much. Physical therapy. Probably someone to talk to about his memory loss. Figure out if there was any way to get back the life he’d lived before the accident.
Traveling for two days had sapped his energy. Layovers. Uncomfortable seats on long flights. Not to mention the unsettling sensation of being watched when he’d flown out of Queen Alia International Airport in Jordan. Did he need to add paranoia to his list of injuries?
A cough sounded from the steps. Zoe jumped and looked over her shoulder.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, guilt washing over her features.
She hurried over to a guy dressed in a suit and they spoke in low tones. Who was he? Why was Zoe so concerned about this other guy? He sent Mitch an I’m-watching-you signal and backed away. Ah. A new guy in her life? The territorial scowl explained it. Mitch wasn’t sure he liked the idea of his wife seeing another guy but, under the circumstances, he had no right to object. He’d made the decision to check out of her life a long time ago.
Zoe returned but didn’t take a seat. “Sorry. I needed to...um...”
“Let me guess. Your date to the wedding?”
Her face flushed. “Yes. I’ve only—”
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain,” he said even with his mind crying, Of course, she does! “You didn’t think I was alive. You never would have dreamed I’d show up here today.”
“Mitch, we have a lot to talk about.”
Yeah. They did. He rubbed the jackhammer tempo pounding his temples. “Maybe later?”
She looked like she was going to argue, then thought better of it.
“Where are you staying?”
He’d thought with her. Guess not.
“I’ll bunk at Wyatt’s place.”
“I’ll drop by later. I’ve got to let Mom and—” she stopped abruptly “—others know you’re alive.”
He dropped his hand to his knee. “Fine.”
“Mitch?”
He squinted up at her.
“I am happy you’re alive.”
He merely nodded. Relieved that she still had some kind of feelings for him, he watched her turn on her heel and hurry off, taking the arm of the man who was waiting for her before disappearing into the hotel.
So. This was what jealously felt like. He’d never experienced it concerning Zoe before. Didn’t much care for it.
Spent now, he rose and made his way back to the view he’d been savoring before Zoe had arrived. Taking a deep breath of fresh Cypress Pointe air, he suddenly wondered why he’d ever left her at all. Then, just as quickly, memories bombarded him, reminding him exactly why.
He yanked the sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and clumsily placed them over his eyes.
The beach looked the same. The water, still a brilliant blue-green, drawing tourists to the quaint seaside town. So much the same, yet his entire life had been blasted to oblivion. Upended by a decision that had nearly cost him his life.
It seemed like yesterday that he’d started his career here. When Zoe’s mother had given him a camera as a way of channeling his boundless energy, he’d taken to it immediately. The natural surroundings of Cypress Pointe had been an inspiring subject. Samantha had taken one look at his shots and proclaimed he’d found his calling. Skeptical at first, he’d experimented by finding different places and techniques to take photos, pleased he’d latched onto something constructive to steer his life. He had been eighteen, rudderless, except for Zoe, and he’d had no idea what his future held.
Eventually, Samantha had begun showing his photos in her art gallery. The popularity of his work had grown and before long, local and then national publications began calling for freelance work. New opportunities opened up. At first, Zoe helped him book assignments, but eventually her causes took over.
When things started to go south in the marriage, he took whatever job he could find just to get away again. It wasn’t until he’d left the last time that the job to photograph conditions at the refugee camp had caught his attention. Zoe’s kicking him to the curb had probably been a major factor in his choice. But who knew he’d have ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time?
Heavy footsteps pounded over the wooden deck, announcing an arrival. Mitch shook off his thoughts and turned just as Wyatt joined him at the railing.
“You okay?” his friend asked.
“Been better.”
“Zoe gave me the evil eye just now.”
“You aren’t the only one.”
“So how did it go?”
“As you’d expect. She’s angry but doing a good job keeping a lid on it.” He looked over the water. “Said we need to talk.” He eyed his friend. “Never good when a woman says those words.”
Wyatt remained quiet.
“Something I should know?”
When Wyatt didn’t meet his gaze, a bad feeling curled in his gut.
“Better you have a conversation with Zoe,” Wyatt told him.
“Now I have all kinds of what-ifs running around my head.”
“Just sit down with Zoe when you get home. It’ll be okay.”
A motorboat zipped by in the distance. Mitch longed for freedom from his injuries and the past, but knew that jumping in a speeding boat would never solve his problems.
“About that. Seems I need a place to stay.”
Wyatt turned his head, his expression incredulous. “She didn’t ask you to come home?”
“I’m thinking maybe I don’t have a home to go to.”
Wyatt blew out a breath. “You can stay with me.”
Mitch made a fist and squeezed. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d rather we left here before the people inside find out I’m back. Talking with Zoe is about all I can handle right now.”
“You got it.” He yanked a set of keys from his pants pocket. “My truck is in the lot.”
Taking one last gaze at the boat, now far enough away to be only a speck on the tranquil waters, questions assailed him again. What would happen now? Old feelings for his wife, mixed with the conflicted emotions he’d stored away when he’d left Cypress Pointe for good, betrayed him.
Mitch leaned heavily on his cane, following his buddy to the parking lot, wondering how long it would be before the hurricane that had managed to wreck his life hit again.
* * *
“MOM? WHERE ARE YOU?” Zoe called as she closed the front door behind her.
She tossed her clutch on the couch, then kicked off her shoes and fell back against the cushions, exhaling the pressure that had been working up inside her chest since she’d left the hotel.
Mitch was alive! She still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. So many emotions, so many questions. What did this mean? Did she carry through with the divorce? Did they try to fix their marriage, in light of Leo? And why hadn’t she told him he was a father?
Guilt and anger walloped her. Yes, she should have told Mitch right away. But after learning he hadn’t called her immediately to let her know he was safe and alive, a selfish part of her had held back. She’d tell him later when she went to Wyatt’s house to talk to him, but back there at the hotel? She couldn’t. Her pride had made her mute about their son, along with the residual hurt that produced reservations about revealing the truth.
“Mom?” she called again. When she didn’t receive an answer, she hauled herself up and walked to the back of the house, sure to find her mother holed up in her studio. The southern exposure of light was an artist’s dream. Perfect for when Samantha was creating a new piece.
“Hi, Mom.”
Samantha never took her gaze from the canvas as she dabbed paint on the project before her.
“Is Leo okay?”
“Of course.” Her mother paused to glance briefly at Zoe, then back to her piece. “Why are you home early?”
“We need to talk.”
Samantha went still. She didn’t like dealing with real-world problems, preferring to let Zoe or an assistant take care of her life. Dealing with critical issues, like Mitch returning from the dead, were not her forte.
“Can it wait?” her mother asked, already looking for a way to avoid the conversation.
“No.”
“Let me just get this last shade...”
While she finished her task, Zoe roamed the room, thinking of a way to break the earth-shattering news.
Samantha laid down her palette and brush, then wiped her hands with a paint-spattered towel. “Are you going to explain why you’re home? Trouble with Tim?”
Poor Tim. He’d been just as shocked to see Mitch. Barely spoke on the uncomfortable ride to the house she shared with her mother.
“No. Well, yes, but not what you think.”
Her mother grimaced. “I knew this dating thing was too soon. You aren’t ready. He’s not right for you.”
Except, he had been. Until less than an hour ago.
“Mom. I don’t know any other way to say this without just blurting it out.” She took a breath. “Mitch is alive and here in Cypress Pointe.”
The color fled from her mother’s pretty face.
“But... How?”
“I don’t have all the details. Apparently, he was in some kind of accident and lost his memory. He was badly hurt and, until recently, unable to travel home.”
“Where is he?”
“At Wyatt Hamilton’s house.”
Her mother tossed the towel on the table. “We have to go get him. Despite your troubles, he should be home.”
Zoe reached out to grab her mother’s arm as she started to leave the room. “No.”
“Why not? He’s your husband.”
To say she’d been caught off guard when she saw him standing on the hotel deck was an understatement, but it didn’t mean an automatic reconciliation. Mitch was the father of her child, yes, and she had to figure out how to handle that, as well as the repercussions of him being back in her life. She could blame her confused emotions right now on the hopes and dreams of the couple she’d just married; it was making her vulnerable and lowering the wall she’d erected when she and Mitch had separated. At least, she desperately hoped that was the case.
Zoe rubbed her temples. “I know.” But it was so much more. Did she dare open her son’s life to a man who would rather wander the world without a shred of responsibility for the needs of a family? Was Mitch clueless or still only thinking about himself and not how his actions affected others? “First of all, Mitch needs continued medical attention. He looks terrible.”
The image of her once-robust husband was overshadowed by her new reality. Mitch had lost weight. The button-down shirt and jeans had hung from what used to be a muscular frame. And his beautiful wavy brown hair? Gone, revealing fresh scalp scars under the buzz cut.
“All the more reason he should be here where we can take care of him.”
“I understand you want him here, but I can’t. Not yet.”
Her mother gasped. “How can you say that?”
“Mitch didn’t call us, Mom. He contacted Wyatt, instead. Did what he wanted instead of what was right. Clearly, he hasn’t changed.”
Uncertainty strained her mother’s features. “He must have had a good reason.”
“Said he wanted to tell me he was alive in person.” Which on the surface made sense, but it was just one example on an ongoing list of ways Mitch always made decisions that suited him, not them.
“Well then, he was looking out for you.”
Maybe. “I need time to process all this.”
“So, what, you can push him away again?”
Zoe clenched a tight rein over her anger. Once again, her mother was not on her side.
It had always been like this. Samantha and Mitch were like peas in a pod. Artistic. Spoke the same creative language. She’d always felt like the odd one out, never fitting into her mother’s world, left out of an important part of Mitch’s.
Her mother never understood why she and Mitch had problems, even though Mitch knew early on in their relationship that Zoe didn’t want to leave Cypress Pointe. She hadn’t kept it a secret from him, and it hadn’t become an issue until his career began to take off and she was more involved in town activities. He at least tried to humor her, asking her to tag along, even though in time, a chasm formed between them. But Samantha never seemed to consider Zoe’s side of things, just like she’d never shown motherly concern when Zoe had been grazed in the upper arm by a bullet. Hadn’t worried about the scars that might form because her daughter had witnessed and been caught in the cross fire of a bank robbery. Samantha had been too preoccupied readying for her first major art show. Zoe could take care of herself, her mother reasoned, just like she’d always done.
“You may not like my decision, but Mitch is my husband. I will deal with the situation as I see fit.”
Samantha leaned against the wall. Crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression revealed she knew she wouldn’t win this particular argument.
As if just thinking of it, her mother asked, “What did he say when you told him about Leo?”
“I haven’t yet.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
Zoe swallowed the guilt rising in her throat. “I...I was going to, but he looked worn out. I didn’t want to shock him with the news until he’d had a chance to rest.” To her ears, it sounded like a lame excuse, but it was all she had. Just like Mitch, she’d withheld important information affecting their lives. What did that say about the state of their relationship?
“What if he hears about Leo from someone else?”
It shouldn’t be a problem. She’d passed Wyatt in the hotel just before she’d left, asking him to please keep news of Leo a secret until she could tell Mitch herself. He’d agreed, but by the scowl on his face, she recognized his displeasure. Didn’t matter, really. This was her call to make.
“What are you waiting for?” her mother said. “Get changed.”
She turned to leave the room, then stopped and faced her mother. “I know you don’t agree with my decision, Mom, but please, respect it.”
Her mother’s eyes grew moist. “I do. We’ve been given a miracle. Make that two, with Leo.”
Zoe would have loved to hug her mother right then, but years of resentment stopped her. When she’d learned Zoe was pregnant, and then of Mitch’s subsequent death, her mother had finally broken free of her self-absorption. When Leo was born, Samantha had transformed into the caring and present parent Zoe had always longed to have. It confounded her, but she was unable to deny that she was ecstatic Leo had a grandma, even if she’d never been a mom.
Stopping in the living room to grab her shoes, Zoe made a detour to Leo’s room. The cutie lay on his back, breathing lightly, his lion blankie wrapped around his legs. Placing her shoes on the floor by the crib, she gently untangled the blanket and ran her fingers over his downy soft hair, then his warm cheek. An intense rush of love took her breath away. Leo was her child. Hers to protect, even if it was from his own irresponsible father. She’d do anything to keep her son safe. Would never let Mitch hurt Leo like he’d hurt her.
Leo moved in his sleep, settling into another position. Zoe watched him for a few more minutes, then tiptoed from the room.
A few minutes later, she changed into a short-sleeved T-shirt, denim capris and sandals. Before leaving her room, she gathered up a framed picture of Leo to show Mitch. She also had way too many pictures to count saved on her cell phone. He could scroll through her gallery to view dozens of other shots. She tossed the frame in her purse and went to the living room to retrieve her phone from her fancy clutch bag.
Before leaving, she returned to the studio. “Mom, I’m leaving.”
Samantha stood by her paint rack, studying a tube of paint. She glanced up, clearly startled.
“Make sure you deliver the news to Mitch gently.”
“I will.” Zoe bit the inside of her cheek. “You have the baby monitor turned up, right?”
“Yes. Leo will be fine.”
Zoe backed out of the room. The less they talked would probably be for the best.
Fifteen minutes later, Zoe sat in Wyatt’s driveway. She should have gotten out of the car already, but nerves kept her in place. Could she do this? Really, she had no choice. Mitch deserved to hear about his son from her. But telling him made this new twist in her life real. They were connected forever, no matter the state of their marriage. What would this look like now? Would Mitch want them to live as a family? Would he take off again because, let’s face it, he saw each job as an adventure, that might once again cost their family? Cost Leo his father?
Only one way to find out. Heaving in a breath, she opened the door and stepped into the early twilight. Hooking her purse strap over her shoulder, she forced herself to walk around the side of the house to the screened-in porch. Sprawled out in a lounge chair, Mitch was watching boats coming in and out of the marina.
She approached softly, so as not to surprise him, but he’d already half risen from the chair.
“Don’t get up,” she rushed to say.
He sank down quickly. “Thanks. My leg gave up working for the day. All the traveling has finally caught up with me.”
The lines on his face showed his exhaustion. His stiff shoulders suggested he hid a lot of pain. “Sure you’re up to this?”
“I’ve spent a lot of time with only my thoughts for company, so yeah, whatever you have to say, I’m up to it.”
She dragged a chair closer to his.
“My mom was overjoyed to hear you’re alive.”
“Not upset I didn’t call?”
She frowned. “Upset with you? When did you ever do anything to make her angry with you?”
Her bitter comment ushered a silence over them. In the distance, the clanging of a buoy rang in the dusk and the chugging of an idling boat engine sputtered nearby. The scent of diesel gas made her nose wrinkle. The temperate evening seemed to close in on her.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Zoe. Clearly, you have something to tell me and I can guess what it is. You’re seeing that guy from the wedding and you want me to sign divorce papers.”
“What? No.”
Trying to come up with the right words escaped her. She dropped her purse on her lap and took out the framed photo. Held it to her chest against the tight band threatening to cut off her breathing.
Mitch pushed up straight against the chair back. “Zoe?”
“I tried to find you, I really did, but it was like you’d fallen off of the face of the earth.”
He frowned. “And I already explained that was my doing.”
“Yes, but I want you to know I tried.”
Leaning forward, Mitch stared her straight in the eye. “Tell me.”
She swallowed, pulled the frame from her chest and stared down at her son’s precious face. Met Mitch’s gaze again.
“We have a son. His name is Leo.”
