Turn My World Upside Down: Jo's Story (15 page)

And that’s what this visit was all about.

What they were
always
about.

Jared’d “dropped” in on him before. And the only way to make him leave was to give him the only thing Jared Hunter had ever appreciated.

Money.

And despite the fact that he wanted to throw his father out on his ass, he knew that he would pay. Because as much as Cash’d like to pretend that he’d come from a family, the truth of the matter was that he’d sprung from two selfish people who never should have met. He loved his mother, but in her own way, she was no better than Jared.

It was her way or no way.

Always had been.

But at least his mother had
tried
.

His father, though, had had no use for him until the money from Jimmy Holt’s company had started pouring in. It was just as he’d told Jo earlier. People tended to treat you differently when they found out you had piles of money. Even his old man had managed to bury
his disinterest in his only son for the sake of getting his “fair share” of his son’s fortune.

It seemed, though, that Jared never really could get enough.

“How much this time?” Cash ground out, hating the taste of the words in his mouth. Hating knowing that he’d be willing to pay whatever it took to get this man out of his home. To have the invasion of his world reversed.

Jared stopped beside the hand-carved entertainment center and ran the tip of one finger along the detailed lines of the oak piece. Cash thought about disinfecting that piece as soon as he could get the man gone.

Taking another long drink of his beer, Jared mused aloud, “Well, if you’d rather I didn’t stay here in Chandler . . .”

Cash stared at him.

Jared chuckled. “You should think about it, though,
son
. We could really make a hell of a team together.”

“I don’t think so.” Jesus, the thought of becoming anything like his old man was enough to make Cash want to find the nearest cliff and jump off.

“All right then, if not here, I was thinking that it’s time I moved to a warmer climate. A waterfront condo in West Palm Beach would be about right.” He sighed, then smiled at his son. “I hear there are lots of lonely ladies there.”

His insides clenched, then relaxed again. Fuck it. It was only money. What was a few million in the grand scheme of things? If it bought Cash solitude, it was well worth the price. Although, he thought, he should probably take out an ad in the local paper, warning women away from Jared.

Wouldn’t matter, though. The older man still had the knack of turning women’s brains to oatmeal.

Still.

Better Florida than California.

“Fine,” he said, and stalked out of the room to get his checkbook.

The sun was hot, but the wind, sweeping in off the ocean, felt cold. Excitement jangled through Jack Marconi as he held on to his practically new baseball mitt with a grip tight enough to press his fingertips into the leather. His heart was beating really fast and his mouth was all dry and he felt like maybe he might be sick. Fear twisted with happiness and tangled up in his chest until breathing was really hard.

The grass needed mowing, the bleachers were only half full, and none of the kids had real uniforms, because Little League wouldn’t start until June, but this was a really
real
baseball game anyway.

And he was on the team.

He smiled to himself as he sat on the bench in the dugout and listened to the other guys talking and laughing around him. He kicked his beat-up sneakers against the dirt, sending tiny brown clouds into the air. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he pulled the brim of his hat down lower and looked over his shoulder at the bleachers behind him.

Moms and dads and brothers and sisters were laughing and talking and waiting for the start of the game.
He scanned the crowd until he spotted his sister Jo and Nana right in the middle of the crowd. Sam was there too and Emma, wearing bright red ribbons on her blond pigtails. Dumb name for a hairdo, he thought, but Emma said it was a girl thing and he wouldn’t understand. Emma’s dad, Jeff, was there too, and so was Lucas.

It gave him a nice feeling in his stomach to know all of them had come just to see him play.

Before he came to Chandler, it was always just him and his mom. His heart ached a little, remembering, but then he watched Jeff and Lucas laugh and something warm settled inside him again. It was better now, he told himself. Most of the time he wasn’t worried so much about people leaving. Dying.

About being alone again.

Only sometimes.

Like late at night when the house was all quiet and he could remember a different room. A different life and how quickly it had all ended.

And alone in the dark, he worried.

He rubbed one hand under his nose, and blinked hard against the sunlight stabbing into his eyes, making them all blurry. Then he blinked and scanned the faces in the crowd one more time, searching, searching . . . until finally,
there
he was.

He
came
.

Just like he said he would.

Cash waved at him and Jack grinned and relaxed on the bench seat. Now he was ready. Now he wanted the game to start. So he could show everybody how much Cash had taught him.

“I bring food, Josefina, now you eat,” Nana said, reaching into the wicker picnic basket she’d insisted on bringing along to Jack’s baseball game.

The field behind St. Joseph’s elementary school hadn’t changed much since the days Jo and her sisters had gone there. The grass was still more brown than green and the chain-link backstop had enough holes in it to be practically worthless. But it had never really mattered what it
looked
like. The important thing about a baseball field was how it
felt
.

Like summer.

“Josefina, you no eat, you no stay strong.” Nana’s lips thinned into a stubborn slash and her dark brown eyes narrowed. A cold wind rushed past them, but Nana’s sausage curls were sprayed solid enough to withstand a hurricane. The hem of her black dress fluttered around her bony legs and the scent of White Shoulders took Jo right back to her childhood.

“Not really hungry, Nana,” Jo answered, ignoring Nana’s exasperated sigh as she shifted her gaze to the little boy in the dugout. If she wasn’t still a little pissy at God, she might think of whispering a quick prayer that the kid did well.

Geez.

How did parents do this?

How did they let their kids go out and take the chance of failure? Of disappointment.

And when did she get so invested in a little boy she hadn’t known existed a year ago?

Her own stomach was in knots.

A feeling apparently not shared by the rest of her family.

“I’ll take a sandwich, Nana,” Lucas said, leaning
over to stretch out a hand across Jo. “Gotta eat quick and get back to Mike. It’s killing her that she can’t be here, and when she’s upset, she eats.” He shrugged. “Kitchen’s probably empty by now.”

Happy, Nana reached into the basket for wax-paper-wrapped food. “You wanna sausage? Or maybe peppers and cheese? Or fresh salami and provolone?”

With the lid of the basket up, mouthwatering scents poured out into the fresh air and had everyone in the bleachers leaning in close.

Lucas inhaled deeply and sighed, “I’ll take sausage, Nana, thanks.”

“Make mine peppers,” Jeff said, making the old woman smile like a kid at Christmas.

“And you, Samantha,” Nana said, pulling another sandwich made on thick Italian bread out of the basket. “You no eat enough. Think of your
bambino. Mangia
.”

“No, thanks, Nana,” she said tightly. “I’ll just sit here and groan quietly.”

Nana muttered something in Italian, then turned around and invited the rest of the bleachers to dig into the bottomless basket of food. Eagerly, they leaped at her. Most people bought hot dogs at a ball game. Or at the most, they brought cookies and a thermos or something. Not Nana. She’d packed enough food for a week’s stay. Plus she had jugs of Kool-Aid for the kids and iced tea for the adults.

Nana’d never met a crowd she didn’t want to force-feed. As she dug into the bottomless basket again and again, Jo watched, amazed. Cannoli, lined up like sugar-dusted tin soldiers in a Tupperware container, were snatched up as fast as Nana unloaded them. There
was cheese and bread, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and even a tray of cold veggies and spinach dip.

Baseball fans forgot about the game and got down to some serious scarfing.

“God,” Sam whimpered, “did she have to use so much garlic in the spinach dip?”

“Whining?” Jo asked, pushing her knee gently into Sam’s back.

“
Not
whining,” she said, with a quick look over her shoulder. “Just saying.”

“Right.” It had been four days since their little chat, and to give her sister her due, Sam had really made an effort to cut back on all the complaining.

“Josefina,” Nana said, huffing a little under her breath, “you no eat enough. You have some antipasto.” She pulled out another Tupperware container the size of Delaware and snapped open the lid to release the mingled scent of garlic, basil, and just a touch of rosemary. Olive oil lay drizzled across broccoli tops, cauliflower, snap peas, and green and red bell peppers, cut into crunchy rounds.

Sam moaned and scooted down another row in the bleachers.

“Honey?” Jeff called. “You okay?”

Sam waved, Jo chuckled and dipped one hand into the tub for a piece of seasoned cauliflower. God knew if she didn’t eat something, Nana would never give up.

“Is no enough.” Nana clucked her tongue and passed the Tupperware down to Jeff and Lucas, who dug in like they were contestants on
Survivor
.

“I’m not hungry,” Jo reminded her, dutifully chewing the vegetable.

“Is not good for you. This diet alla time. You are too skinny. One day,” Nana foretold, wagging one finger at the sky as if calling down the heavens, “you will blow away, pfft!”

“I’m not skinny, and I’m not on a diet,” Jo argued, but her heart wasn’t in it. Instead, she had her gaze focused on the field where nine little boys were hustling out in their tattered jeans and worn sneakers to take their positions.

The sun glinted off a camera lens and she had to prop one hand over her eyes to see Jack, running out to right field. Her heart sputtered a little as she worried about him being able to play. This meant so much to him, and she knew if he screwed up, he’d be desolate. God, why was it easier to fail yourself than it was to watch someone you cared about do it?

“Josefina, your young man issa here.”

“Huh?” She turned to look at Nana.
“What?”

“There. Such a nicea boy.”

Cash Hunter. Nicea boy? Not really. Nicea-
looking
boy, er,
man
? Oh yeah.

Lucas snorted and Jo stiffened, scowling at him ferociously. Instantly, he sobered up, and she had to admit that Mike was doing a hell of a job training him.

“New man, Jo?” Jeff asked, nudging her ribs with his elbow.

“Watch it, Weasel Dog,” she muttered, gaze locked on Cash as he ambled toward the bleachers.

“Dog? Who issa dog?” Nana asked, her voice hitting a note designed to split eardrums.

“Ah crap,” Jeff muttered.

“Nana, can I have a cookie?” Emma crawled across
her father, then Jo, to reach the promised land of Nana’s lap.

“Pretty girls get
two
,” Nana said, delving back into the basket that Jo was beginning to think of as just a little magical.

“Hi, Cash,” Sam called out, and Jo thought about throwing a piece of cauliflower at the back of her sister’s head. “Come on over.”

Jo shifted her gaze to Tall, Dark, and Devastating. He strolled toward the bleachers like a man with all the time in the world. He was a walking testament to testosterone. Seriously. Black hair, ruffled by the wind. Black T-shirt, faded jeans, and those cowboy boots that looked as scuffed as if he’d been out on the range for decades.

Damned if Jo’s heart didn’t pound a little harder.

He stopped at the bottom of the bleachers and grinned up at her. Even from a distance, that smile was a hell of a weapon. And brother, he knew how to use it.

It had been four days since she’d seen him. And four even longer nights. God, it was a wonder she could maneuver at all during the day with the way dreams of Cash kept her waking up in a state of hunger so bad she shook with it.

“Come,” Nana called, waving one hand while she kept the other arm wrapped firmly around Emma. “Come, eat.”

“Nana,” Jo said tightly, “maybe Cash doesn’t want to—”

“Sure he does.” Cash interrupted her and stepped up onto the bleachers, stalking up until he was seated right behind Jo.

Nana batted Jo’s arm with her bony fingers and said, “Is good he wants to spend time with the
famiglia
. Josefina, get your young man something to eat.”

Cash grinned at her again, clearly enjoying the whole show. But then, so were her brothers-in-law. And now that she felt the first flutters of irritation sputtering to life inside her, it was hard to remember waking up hungry for him in the middle of the night.