Breaking Away (39 page)

“A few minutes ago. I told Jane we’d be home in little over an hour. He seemed to do okay today. He wasn’t crying or anything.”
Thank God.

She offered him a smile and continued to hold his hand in both of hers. She hadn’t done that in a long time.

Thirty minutes later James pulled into the driveway and hit the garage door opener. He glanced at Marsha and tried to read her reaction when he pulled past the sitter’s car into the garage.

She sat up straighter, a frown on her face, her eyes roaming the space. “You’ve cleaned out the garage.”

He’d called three buddies a few nights before and explained what he wanted to do, and they’d pitched in to help. Two had gone to pick up the materials he’d bought for the quick renovation project. By the time he’d returned from dropping her at the beauty shop, they’d already begun to dismantle the shelving units running the length of the wall facing the cars. They’d put in two by four studs to frame in a closet, slapped up white paneling with molding at the top and rubberized baseboards at the bottom, and then reassembled the shelving units inside the closet. He still had to run the wiring for a couple of lights and paint the louvered doors, but the garage looked more finished.

Best of all, it no longer resembled the space where she’d been accosted by Tabarek Moussa.

James turned off the car and pushed the button to close the garage doors behind them.

“How did you do all this in four hours?”

“Chiefs Caldwell and Reynolds and Jack Taylor came over, and we just got it done. I have to do some finish work, but it squared away the space.”

She remained silent for a moment. “It looks really good.”

“Thanks.” He released his seat belt. “I’m starving, let’s go check on Alex and eat dinner.”

She laid a hand on his arm and he turned. “You were right here to monitor Alex the whole time.”

“Well, it was his first time being left with a sitter, and I thought just in case he wasn’t happy, it wouldn’t hurt to stay close. I was too busy to look after him.”

Her reluctance to go into the garage had been obvious. And when she did, she rushed to her car and locked herself in as though someone were pursuing her. This was their home, at least until it sold. She couldn’t continue to live here if every space carried the memory of a threat. He’d changed the space so it looked different so perhaps it would disrupt the memories.

Marsha didn’t say anything, but for the first time she looked around instead of rushing to the kitchen door as though Tabarek Moussa were after her.

When they entered the kitchen and Alex saw them, his face lit up with a gummy smile, his mouth wide. He completely ignored the bubble of strained peas that ran down his chin.

Jane Wyatt, the plump, matronly woman James had hired to babysit, laughed and wiped his face before the food could reach his bib. “He’s missed you, but he’s been a good boy,” she said.

Alex kicked his legs and reached for Marsha, and he hummed his signal for momma, drawing a laugh from her.

“I’ll finish feeding him after he’s calmed down,” she said. She lifted him free of his highchair and cuddled him close. He reached for her hair and she caught his pea-stained fist before he could rub green into it. Jane stepped forward to wipe his hand.

The two women talked about Alex, his pleasure in the baby swing out back, and his slight case of diaper rash, while James unpacked the take-out boxes.

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Mrs. Wyatt?” he asked.

“Thank you for asking, but no. My husband and I are going out for a meal and a movie.”

James reached for his wallet, extracted money from it and handed it to her.

“If ever you and your crew decide to take your construction skills on the road, I’ll be happy to spread the word. I’ve never seen anything come together as quickly as your garage.”

James smiled. They’d accomplished what they set out to do in record time. He owed the guys. “I had a good crew. Thank you for sitting for us.”

“You’re welcome. Call me any time.” She said good night to them, rested a hand against Alex’s cheek in farewell and let herself out.

Marsha slipped her arm around James’s waist, and he automatically put his arms around her and Alex.

“Thank you for today, James.”

He swallowed against the sudden knot in his throat. He wanted his wife back, his marriage. But he couldn’t do it alone. “You’re welcome.”

She pressed in against him, laying her head in the bowl of his shoulder. “I know I haven’t been at my best for the last several months. But I’m going to try and do better.”

Though he tried not to read too much into her words, hope lifted the feeling of pressure that lay on his chest. He rested his lips against her forehead. “I love you.”

“I don’t think I could bear it if you didn’t,” she said.

His heart skipped a beat and his arms tightened around her. “You’re my anchor. It’s you I think of, hold on to, when I’m facing things I don’t want to have to face. I want to be the same for you, Marsha.”

She drew back to look up at him. “For a man who has never talked much about his feelings, you’ve grown damn eloquent.”

At her smile, the panicked beat of his heart settled to a slower rhythm. “The saying, ‘you can’t teach an old seadog new tricks’ doesn’t apply to SEALs,” he replied.

CHAPTER 29

S
am fought against the rising panic. Twenty-five thousand dollars! “But I don’t have a credit card in my name. My ex-husband had them all in his.”

The loan officer, Mr. Taylor, a slightly built man of about forty with wire-rimmed glasses and thinning hair, stared at his computer screen. “The card was taken out in your name on March of this year. And thus far has a balance due of twenty-five thousand, four hundred dollars and twenty-seven cents.”

Her face felt numb and her breathing was unsteady. “Someone’s stolen my identity. I don’t have the credit card and don’t know anything about it.”

“Well, that could certainly be the case.” He leaned back in his chair. “As long as the minimum payment is made it won’t reflect on your credit history.”

“Minimum payment! What minimum payment? Are you crazy? I didn’t take out the card and I’m not paying for it. I need you to print whatever information you have on that screen and I’m going to the police station to file a report.”

Mr. Taylor cheeks grew flushed. “There’s no need to yell at me, Mrs. Cross.”

Sam was too busy fighting off a wave of nausea to apologize. Twenty-five thousand dollars. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. What if they made her pay for it?

“There’s still the problem of the refinancing of your home. Despite your low credit score, we’d be happy to cover that for you. The property value outweighs the twenty-one thousand you owe on it. But since we’ve held the mortgage for two months. You will owe back payments of twenty-five hundred dollars.”

Twenty-five hundred dollars?
It might as well be the twenty-five thousand.

“That would be for a loan of twenty-four months plus closing costs, and we will include your insurance on the property for another two hundred dollars a month. That’s a requirement for us to carry the mortgage. Your monthly payments would be twelve hundred dollars a month.”

Oh God! She could make maybe half that and still feed Joy. Sam breathed in quick gulps of air to try and stem the dizziness and calm herself. She had to think. Just think. This was no time for her PTSD to kick in. She had to stall until she was calm. She had to think clearly to deal with this. “May I use your restroom?”

Taylor frowned at her sudden change of subject. “Certainly. It’s just down the hall to the left.”

Grabbing her backpack, Sam rose, though her legs shook so much she could hardly stand. She concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other until she reached a metal door with a
women
tag on it. She locked herself inside, lowered the lid to the toilet, and sat down. The need to cry nearly overwhelmed her, but she pushed it back, and for a few minutes rocked back and forth in an attempt to calm herself. She rifled through the pack until she found her phone. She dialed Tim’s number.

“Hey, Sam.”

Just the sound of his voice eased some of her anxiety, though tears threatened again. She propped her elbow on her knee and rested her head in her hand. “Hey. Is everything okay there?”

“Yeah. We’re good. Joy and I decided we’d do nuggets for dinner. Homemade. We searched for a recipe and it seems pretty straightforward. We’ll have dinner ready by the time you get home.”

God, he was so good for her and for Joy. “That sounds good.” She swallowed hard. “Thank you for picking her up.”

“You’re welcome.”

She drew a deep breath. “I’ll be home in just a little while.”

“Take your time. We’re good.”

“Okay. I—”
love you.
She caught the words back and with it her breath.
I love you.
She closed her eyes and captured that moment when he’d said, ‘when you opened your arms to me, I finally knew I was home.’
I love you.
“I shouldn’t be long,” she said instead.

“Uh—we have a small flour issue developing. Gotta go.”

She shut the phone and tucked it back in her backpack. Had it been Will on the other end of the phone, she’d have to race home for fear of him hurting Joy. Tim would never raise a hand to hurt either of them. That certainty tamped down her anxiety another notch.

Twenty-five thousand dollars.
Dear God.

She had to put the credit card out of her mind and deal with the loan issue first. It involved their home. And no one was going to take it from them. She rose, went to the sink and washed her hands, then dried them. She studied her features in the mirror. “You have to be strong. Stand your ground. This guy is trying to rip you off. You want to be a lawyer one day, you’re going to have to grow some balls.”

She opened the door and walked back down the hall to Taylor’s office. She slowed when she heard the murmur of his voice.

Seeing her in the doorway, he hung up the phone and rose to his feet.

Afraid her nerve might desert her, Sam spoke in a rush, “My grandmother had a thirty-year loan and had almost paid off the house. I don’t think twenty-four months to pay off the twenty-one thousand still owed on the property is a reasonable expectation, Mr. Taylor.”

“It’s a small amount, and we’re not going to make that much interest off of it. We want it off our books as quickly as possible.”

Small to them.
Sam stepped further into the room. “And I have to say this sounds as though you’re purposely trying to set up something to ensure I lose my house. I seem to remember there are laws against unfair loan practices. I’d rather take care of this myself without having to call my lawyer into it.”

His cheeks took on a ruddy color. “You can’t expect to have the same terms on the loan as your grandmother. She had a history of making payments every month.”

“Which I’ve continued since her death. I have the receipts to prove it.”

“Once your grandmother signed the house over to you, Mrs. Cross, it’s a requirement that you refinance, because the house is in your name, not hers.”

“I understand that, but you’re purposely setting me up to fail in paying back the loan.” He was looking at her two hundred fifty thousand-dollar property as easy pickings and was trying to raise the payments to a level she couldn’t manage. Anger shoved the rest of her anxiety aside. “With the equity in the property, I believe I can go elsewhere and get a loan at a reasonable rate and pay you off.”

Taylor’s gaze sharpened. “Your certainly within your right, Mrs. Cross, but time is passing and we’re holding the mortgage.”

Her anxiety level spiked again. “As for my being two months behind, I just received notification from the bank about this right after I made a payment to you. I have the dated payment receipt. And I have the letter you sent me two weeks ago asking me to come in and deal with this issue. I called at that time and set up this appointment. I have an email confirmation.” She set her backpack down on the chair she’d vacated minutes before and unzipped it, intent on retrieving the documents. “I don’t believe I owe you anything, since I haven’t signed a contract with you, plus I’ve come here in a timely manner to address this, and my payments are up to date.”