Authors: Sherry Gammon
Chapter
29
“You okay?” Booker asked as we disembarked in San Diego.
“I’m fine,” I tugged nervously on my hair for the millionth time.
He was able to get us direct flights the next day. We’d flown all night, and I hadn’t slept, but I was home. We decided it best that we stay for only one night in hopes that Garen wouldn’t find out. I worried he’d seek revenge on my family. Booker agreed completely.
When I called my mother she cried so hard I could hardly understand her. I decided not to tell her about Garen’s latest attack, instead focusing on seeing everyone again. Booker suggested we keep it low key, telling only my family and not any of my friends I was coming. He promised we’d come back and visit whomever I wanted once Garen was arrested. We got into a cab and the driver took us directly to my parent’s.
“You’re right,” Booker said, as the taxi turned down my street. “The weather here’s a bazillion times nicer than Port Fare.”
“Don’t remind me.” So frantic to see my family, I’d hardly noticed the clear sunny skies and warm weather. I turned my face to the sun shining through the open window and drew in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the salty smell of the ocean, only a block away. I smiled at the palm trees that lined our street, trees I’d taken for granted growing up here.
The front door of my parent’s house opened and my mother flew out, wearing khaki shorts and a blue button down shirt. I ran, collapsing into her arms. I don’t know who cried harder as we clung desperately to each other in the front yard. Booker guided us inside as he constantly surveyed the area for any sign of Garen. Since he couldn’t bring his gun on the plane, I knew he felt naked. I promised to lend him one of my dads’ to carry while we were in San Diego.
“Oh, Mom, it’s so good to see you.” I stroked her tear-streaked face. “It feels like a lifetime since I left.”
“It has been,” she assured me. Deep creases lined her pretty face now. Her hair was heavily peppered with gray and white strands also. “He hurt you again, didn’t he?” She touched my cheek by the bruise. I hadn’t thought about my tears washing the makeup away.
“Yes.”
“And he did this to your hair, too?” I nodded to her insightful question. Should have known she’d figure it out. She turned to Booker. “Just because Garen did this, don’t be getting any ideas.” She shook her hand at him, her face fierce, like a lioness protecting her young. Booker’s face tightened, no doubt sickened at being compared to Garen.
“He’s nothing like Garen, Mom. Nothing at all,” I assured her. I stepped over next to him and looped my arm around his. “This is Booker Gatto. He’s my boss in Port Fare.”
“Your boss?” Mom eyed our intertwined arms.
“Hello, Mrs. Selleck.” Booker took a step forward and stretched out his hand to Mom. He added his Cheshire
Cat grin. They shook hands under Mom’s narrowed eyes.
Seeming self-conscious under her glare, he stepped back next to me. “Your daughter’s an amazing office manager,” he said, tugging nervously on the collar of his shirt.
“Not surprised. She’s excellent at everything she does.” Mom grinned proudly. “She was captain of the lacrosse team her junior and senior year. That’s never happened at her school, before or since. She was also vice president of her senior class. She did all that and still participated in dance competitions cross the state.”
“Okay, Mom,” I said, embarrassed.
“Okay nothing,” she said firmly. “Tess never quit at anything she did. She worked hard at everything, including fighting to make her marriage work to that foul barbarian of a man.” Tears welled in her eyes.
I rushed to her side and wrapped my arms around her. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m here now.”
“For how long? I miss you, Tessy.” Her breath caught in her throat. “Every day I’ve wondered where you were and if you were safe. Every night I’ve begged God to protect you and keep you hidden from that monster.”
“Mom, I only have two days here. Let’s not spend it talking about him.” I rubbed her back as I spoke.
“Is that really you?” I turned to see my twin, Abby, racing out the front door to my side. We embraced, each of us crying. I hugged her husband Calvin next. “And these are my children. Jaxton, he’s three and a half, Gabe, eighteen months, and Ciel, our little surprise baby,” she said, pointing to the bundle in Calvin’s arms. More hugs and kisses before my brother Craig and his family showed up. We went inside as Craig introduced his two boys to me. I’d missed so much in four years.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“Sugar Cube.” I turned to the door as my father came in carrying a couple bags of groceries. He dropped them on the table and rushed me. “Oh my, Sugar Cube, how I’ve missed you.” He scooped me up and spun me around. His hands went right to my hair after he set me down. “I like the new hairdo,” he said with a weak grin.
“He did it to her,” my mother snapped, grabbing the groceries and taking them into the kitchen.
“Well, it’ll grow back. I kind of like it, actually.” He tapped a clip. “Those look real nice.” He kissed my forehead.
“Dad, this is Booker Gatto.” I tugged Book next to me.
“Yes. I’ve wanted to meet you.” He shook Booker’s hand, grabbing his arm with his other hand. “I can’t thank you enough for saving my little girl.” Tears welled in my father’s eyes again. “When she called yesterday and told us what had happened . . .” He batted at a tear that escaped.
Booker, for the first time since I’d known him, was speechless. No jokes, no teasing, no confident grin.
Just a sweet humble nod to my dad. I fell in love with him even more.
Dad gave Booker a small caliber pistol to carry. It fit perfectly in his calf holster. I could almost see Booker sighing in relief. Mom prepared a full-on turkey dinner. We sat around the table talking about old times and laughing at the childhood mayhems we encountered, or more often than not, created. The broken arm my brother received after jumping off the roof of the garage wearing his Halloween costume—a superman cape; the stitches to Abby’s knee when she crashed her bike trying to jump over me, daredevil style, as I lay on the sidewalk; the bloody nose that would not stop after a giant wave face-planted me into the sand when we were body surfing. No one wanted the day to end. Abby and her baby stayed the night with me. Booker, being the good sport, graciously accepted the couch for a bed since my brother’s room had been converted into a study.
“Is Ciel a good sleeper?” I asked after she finished nursing the baby.
“Thankfully, yes.” She went to lay her down in a port-a-crib my mom had set up when I reached for her.
“May I hold her again?” I asked.
“Of course you can.” She set the two-month-old infant into my arms. I stared down at her, enjoying the little miracle.
“How were your pregnancies? Did you have morning sickness?” I cuddled the baby close. She smelled of lavender from the lotion Abby had rubbed on her chubby arms and legs.
“My pregnancies are a breeze.” She grinned from ear to ear. “In fact, I love being pregnant. I have tons of energy, and I feel so alive. Calvin says I was made to have babies, although Ciel was a surprise. We wanted to wait another year.”
“I can’t believe I’ll never have children.” I kissed Ciel’s jet-black hair, compliments of her father who was of Chinese descent.
“I know, Tess. I’m so sorry.” She squeezed my forearm. I got up and lay the sleepy baby in the crib, covering her with a pink blanket.
“Okay, tell me all about the sexy Booker Gatto.” She sat cross-legged on the bed, patting the mattress, signaling me to sit next to her.
“I know, right? He’s gorgeous,” I agreed, lying beside her and propping myself up on my elbow. “And he’s the nicest guy, too. He’s the complete package. You-know-who’s opposite.”
“And?” she pressed.
“And yes, I love him,” I admitted. “Very much. I never thought I’d find love again, but he’s been my rock these past few days after . . . everything.”
Pushing away negative thoughts, we lay back and I drew the blanket from the foot of the bed over us, just like we used to do as kids. We talked and giggled quietly until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. Neither of us stirred until the scent of French toast drifted into the room. I dressed while Abby fed the baby.
“You realize how lucky you are she sleeps though the night, right?” I said as she fed her.
“Shh. She’ll hear you. I don’t want her getting any ideas.” Abby playfully covered her baby’s ears.
“I do believe Booker’s cooking. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try and save you some,” I teased, making my way out the door. A burp cloth flew my way, but I shut the door before it landed.
As predicted, Booker was in the kitchen making breakfast. My mom, who’d eyeballed him suspiciously all night, was warm butter in his hands this morning. She laughed freely at his jokes, and was taken in by his charm.
“You’ve beguiled my mother,” I said when she left to set the table.
“Haven’t met a woman yet who doesn’t succumb to the Gatto charm.” He smiled broadly. “And she likes meat.” He pointed to the bacon sizzling away on the stove.
“You won her over with breakfast meat,” I teased. “You’re lucky she enjoys dead animal carcasses.”
“I prefer to think my smile won her over.” He flashed a grin. I tucked myself under his arm as he finished frying the pig flesh.
Soon the house filled with family again, laughing, eating, enjoying. No one spoke of the elephant in the room. All too soon it was time for us to leave. Booker offered to move the tickets back to tomorrow, but I didn’t want to risk putting my family in any more danger than I already had. Through tears and unrelenting hugs, we said our goodbyes and made our way to the cab after Booker gave Dad back his gun.
I fought back more tears as we got in the taxi and headed down my street, wondering when, if ever, I’d see everyone again. The taste of my salty tears reminded me. “I wanted to see the ocean.” I dried my face. “Maybe next time.” I struggled to sound optimistic, as if there’d be a next time.
Booker leaned forward. “We need to make a stop at the beach,” he instructed the driver who then made a U-turn.
“Will we have time?” I looked down at my watch. We’d already left later than we were supposed to.
“We can probably squeak out ten minutes.” He sounded confident, but his tight brow said otherwise.
We slipped off our shoes in the cab and rolled up our pants legs to save time. The driver dropped us as close as he could to the ocean side and we hurried to the water. I ran to the edge as a small wave rolled in, splashing up over my ankles. My phobia of water screamed at me and I backed up.
“Afraid?” Booker asked softly.
“Yes. I’ve let him take so much from me,” I said soberly.
“If you’re ready to reclaim this,” he pointed to the ocean, “I’ll help you however I can.”
I looked at him, then back at the waves. Memories of the hours I’d spent in the ocean growing up washed over me. I took a deep breath. “I’m reclaiming this.” I said it proudly, despite the nausea eating at me.
“It’s colder than I remember,” I said, stepping a few inches deeper into the water.
Booker laughed. “California or not, it is still January.”
As I waded in deeper, I felt free. I lifted my arms in the air next to me and threw my head back, letting the salty wind rush over me.
“You’re not going to yell ‘I’m king of the world’, are you?” he asked, undoubtedly referring to the
Titanic
movie I loathed.
I turned, laying my head on his chest. His arms came around me. “Thank you for the past two days. You’ve given me the strength I need to keep moving forward.” I looked up into his chestnut brown eyes and kissed him. He gently kissed me back.
“I’m glad to see your smile again. I’ve been worried about you.” He ran his hand over my ugly hair.
“Is that why you’ve not kissed me since all this happened?”
“I’ve kissed you,” he scoffed.
“Innocent brotherly kisses, but never with passion,” I insisted as we backed out of the water. “Is it because of what Garen did to me? Does it disgust you? You can be honest, Book. I won’t be upset, nor would I—”
“Is that what you think?” he interrupted. “No, Tess. That’s not it at all. I don’t want to bring back bad memories. Besides, I can only imagine what is going on inside your head after that pig . . .” he shook his head. “My only thought is to let you heal.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Then kiss me, I mean really kiss me. Push every nightmare out and fill it with thoughts of only you.”
So he did. He wrapped his arms around me and covered my mouth with his, but he held back still. I pushed him. I fisted my hands in his hair and held his face tight to mine, crushing my mouth hard to his. His hands cradled my head as he groaned my name. I hadn’t realized my toes curled until my foot cramped. I pulled back first, and he didn’t fight me. He rested his forehead on mine as his breath slowed.
The cabbie honked twice. “We’d better get going,” he said, taking my hand.
I looked over my shoulder for one last look at the beautiful blue water. My heart was full from not only spending time with my family, but also knowing we were still in a good place despite my scummy ex. I turned my gaze to Booker. “I love you.”