Broken Angels (19 page)

“No, they’re at the neighbor’s,” Becca clarified. “We figured it was best if they were out of the house when…” She fumbled. “When we signed the documents.”

“Of course. Good thinking. No use upsetting them further. God knows they’ve been through enough.”

“How ’bout we head to the living room?” Zach tossed in. “Get this show on the road?”

His own anxiety was creeping up on him. Just a few weeks ago he was the single, career-minded uncle. Someone who dropped by with the occasional gift and a carefree smile. Now he was about to become a father, with all the responsibilities that came with it. There was no learning curve for him, no time to adapt, no room for errors. It was all or nothing. Sink or swim. Fly or crash and burn.

The second he signed on the dotted line, his fate—and Becca’s—would be sealed forever.

Becca dropped the wine off in the kitchen, then joined them on the couch. Her skin was pale, her hands a nervous tangle in her lap.

Neil saw none of it. He was too busy pulling a stack of papers from his briefcase. “Everything you need to establish guardianship is right here.” He handed Zach the documents. “I’ve filled in all the particulars. Nothing left for you two to do but sign.”

Zach studied the forms, tension snaking through his limbs. Still, the overpowering desire to do right by his sister blasted away all his misgivings and had him anxiously grabbing the pen the attorney held out to him. Without a second’s hesitation, he scribbled his name at the bottom of the last page. Then he gave the pen to Becca.

Their fingers brushed as she took it from him. Her gaze met his, and he saw everything he felt, every question that tortured him, reflected in her eyes. She examined the documents for an unnervingly long time.

Zach sensed the lawyer’s impatience. “I assure you, Mrs. Ry—Ms. James, everything’s in order.”

She gave a weak nod. “I’m sure it is.” Then, with a burst of courage Zach couldn’t help but admire, she swallowed her doubts and signed the form.

“Wonderful. We’re all set then.” Neil Hopkins stood and retrieved the papers, then carefully placed them in his briefcase. “The next step is for me to file the documents. Once I do, a hearing will be scheduled. You’ll have to appear before a judge in a couple of weeks or so, but no worries. Like I said, it’s just a technicality.”

Zach and Rebecca quietly escorted him to the door. “Thank you, Mr. Hopkins,” she said. “For the wine and the house call.”

“My pleasure. Liam was like a son to me. Nothing I want more than to see his kids settled.”

Zach shook the man’s hand, then shut the door behind him. An unnatural hush hung over the house as he turned to Becca. “Are you really ready for this?”

The question seemed to take her by surprise. “Of course I am. I have no reservations as far as the children are concerned.”

A leaden ball carved a slow, burning path to his gut. “I guess any reservations you have are about me.” The implication cut deeper than he cared to admit, even to himself.

She turned and stalked back to the living room, where she stared long and hard at a framed photograph taken at their wedding. “Let’s be honest, Zach. Things are complicated between us. We’re divorced. We can’t exactly live together forever.”

Why not?
dangled on the tip of his tongue, but he refrained from voicing it. The truth was, he’d gotten used to having her around again. The thought of not seeing her face every night before he went to sleep and every morning when he awoke left him hollow and ashen inside.

“There are tons of divorced couples with kids. If they can make it work, so can we.”

She was quiet for a long time. Then, “You’re right. We owe it to those kids to at least try.”

Anger blistered beneath his skin. “Was it so awful, being married to me?” The question popped out before he could stop it. He knew he hadn’t done a great job comforting her when she’d needed it. He hadn’t known the right words to say, the right things to do to ease her pain. But he’d loved her with every inch of his soul. Didn’t that count for something?

She looked at him as though he’d just landed from Mars. “I think I should be asking you that question. I’m not the one who left, remember?”

So they were back to that again. “I left because I wasn’t what you needed.”

“Did you bother asking me?”

“No point. I knew you’d be better off if I ended things between us. The grief was killing you.”

She shook her head, made an exasperated mewling sound deep in her throat. “Do you ever stop to think that maybe you can’t fix everything, that some things just have to sort themselves out over time? There’s no on/off switch for grief. I don’t think you ever really got that.”

Irritation melted into defeat. “I get it now.”

Her expression softening, she reached out and took his hand in hers. “Sometimes it’s all right to do nothing. You don’t have to play hero all the time.”

Her heat sank into his flesh, thawed the ice in his blood and made longing throb in his veins. He would have easily surrendered right there and then, drawn her into his arms and let the past fall away and a new future rise to redefine them. But still he held back.

Damned if he knew why.

As if stung by the rejection, she briskly withdrew her hand and changed the subject. “I was thinking we could take the kids up to the summer house for a week or two.”

It had been years since he’d last stayed at his father’s beach house in Cape Cod. Ever since the divorce he’d steered clear of it with a passion.

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”

“Why not? Lindsay always said the kids had fun there.”

He fisted the hand she’d touched to keep from reaching for her again. “Too many memories.” That was where he’d first admitted to her—to himself—that he wanted her, where they’d made love for the first time.

Quiet understanding passed between them. Her eyes went molten as they rose to settle on his face. “For them or for you?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer. The phone rang, and he was spared the embarrassment of confessing how often he thought of that stormy night when he’d claimed her as his, despite his better judgment. He’d known even then what a mistake it was to touch her, and yet he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her.

He grabbed the cordless phone, which sat at the corner of the coffee table, and pressed the talk button. “Yeah?” He wasn’t in the mood to be formal today.

“Zach, it’s Martin.”

Great. Just what he needed. “What’s up?”

“The kids have been on my mind a lot lately, thought I’d call to check on them.”

“The kids are great,” he replied curtly.

Becca watched him curiously, and he silently mouthed the name
Martin
. A small smile fluttered over her lips. She knew he’d never had much use for Liam’s older brother, and she knew the reason why.

Zach had always suspected Martin had a thing for Becca. There was something in the way he looked at her, like a hungry coyote eyeing a chicken. What had transpired on their wedding day had only cemented his suspicions…and his resentment.

“You sure?” The doubt and accusation in Martin’s voice only served to heighten his aggravation.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

Becca gestured that he take it easy. Zach ignored her.

“It’s just…” Martin paused, searching for his words. “Do you know Mrs. O’Donnell?”

“Nope.”

“She’s one of my clients. Her son goes to day camp with Noah and Kristen. When she dropped by my office today, she happened to mention the kids were kicked out. She said Noah punched one of the other campers.”

Zach stifled a groan. “There was a slight disagreement. Becca decided it was best to pull the kids out.”

Martin’s heavy-hearted sigh hummed through the phone line. “I get the feeling Noah’s not coping too well.”

Perceptive bastard, wasn’t he? “There’s no on/off switch for grief.” He winked at Becca. “Some things just need to sort themselves out over time.”

“I know, but I can’t help but feel I should be doing more. I’d like to spend some time with the kids. Liam was my brother. I owe it to him to help.”

For eight years Martin had shown absolutely no interest in his brother’s children, and all of a sudden he couldn’t wait to play uncle. What was the deal with that?

“I was thinking I could take Noah and Kristen for a boat ride this weekend,” he added. “Spend some time at my place in Edgartown.”

A couple of years ago Martin had decided to spoil himself. He’d gone and bought himself a miniature yacht and a mansion on a bluff in Martha’s Vineyard.

Pretentious prick.

Zach’s first impulse was to say, “No chance in hell,” especially about the boat part, but he fought it. Martin had as much right to spend time with Kristen and Noah as he did. Still, he couldn’t picture the cocky playboy playing in the sand with a couple of rowdy kids. His clothing was too sleek, his shoes too shiny.

“That won’t be possible,” he told him. “Becca and I just decided to take the kids to my dad’s place down at the Cape. We leave tomorrow.”

Becca arched two puzzled brows. Zach shrugged.

“Oh.” Martin’s dissatisfaction was palpable. “I hope you guys enjoy yourselves. Another time then.”

“Sure, another time,” he muttered a little too smugly.

When he hung up, relief momentarily engulfed him. Then he caught the unbridled excitement on Becca’s face. “So we’re going to the summer house after all,” she said, beaming.

Zach cringed at the thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint her. “Guess so.”

The laptop sat on the kitchen table in silent invitation. Noah knew he probably shouldn’t mess with his aunt’s computer, but she was busy packing, and here it was, calling out his name. There was no telling when he’d get another chance like this one. So he made sure no one was around, then ran and flipped open the screen. Instantly, it came to life. She’d forgotten to turn it off, which made things a heck of a lot easier for him.

He logged on to Falcon World, played a quick game of Chess. No more Checkers for him. After a few minutes, when Night-Owl didn’t come on and join him, he decided to send him a note.

“Stupid computer crashed. G2 my grandpa’s place in Chatham tomorrow. Dunno how long I’ll be gone. I’ll try 2 log on from there. CWYL.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about going to the Cape. He loved it there, no question about that, but it would be weird to be there without his parents. That was the place they always went to spend time together, where his mom baked chocolate-chip cookies and his dad took him out in the canoe, all the way to the National Seashore sometimes, where they spent hours exploring the dunes.

They always had loads of fun there…or they used to. Now the place would be empty, dead like his parents. Part of him didn’t want to go, but another wanted to get out of this house, away from the black images in his head. Maybe if he went to the Cape, the memories would fade, and he’d stop hearing the popping sound the gun had made when it released the bullets that killed his mom and dad.

His eyes suddenly stung. He didn’t understand why tears burned so much when they were just water. But they did. They burned like fire. He wiped them away, swallowed the sour gumball in his throat and stood. The sound of footsteps on the stairs had him quickly logging off and folding the screen shut again.

Then, with a quietness he’d inherited from his mom, he slunk to the sink, poured himself a glass of water and headed for his room.

He met his aunt along the way. “I thought you were in bed,” she said.

“Just getting some water.” He showed her the glass, tried to look innocent.

She obviously bought it because she smiled that stiff smile of hers. “Are you excited about going to the Cape tomorrow?”

“Sure. Whatever.” And with that, he sped past her and disappeared in the safe circle of his room, where the scary images melted into the shadows and he almost remembered what it felt like to be safe.

Chapter Eighteen

Gentle swells rolled across the sand, frothing and melting, leaving a smattering of broken seashells and clams behind. The sun reflected off the water, a trembling beacon of light that cleaved the heavens and made the harbor’s glassy surface shimmer.

Rebecca stood barefoot on the small spit of beach that hemmed in the summer house, enjoying the way the wind spilled across her face and threaded through her hair. The day was unnaturally hot, so the cool breeze was a welcome relief. She’d applied handfuls of sunscreen to the whole family, herself included, but she could already feel her skin baking.

Beside her, Will splashed happily on the shore, while Kristen and Noah swam nearby. The water was cold, even in late July, thanks to the icy Labrador currents streaming in from the north. Still, the kids didn’t seem to mind.

An osprey had built a nest on one of the posts bracketing the beach house, and the hatchlings’ hungry cries punctuated the salt-laden air. Bolt stood vigil at the foot of the post, scratching at the wood, his excited barks forming a discordant chorus with the birds.

Rebecca smiled. She loved this place.

The yelps and barks and shrieks failed to crush the peaceful feeling that unfurled inside her. The beach was small, strewn with seaweed, littered with patches of grass and crabs that had been dismembered, then tossed onto the sandy shore by the forceful tide. The air was thick, peppered with must, the surrounding trees and rooftops carpeted by moss.

Still, to Rebecca, this was paradise. Life was slow and easy at the Cape, uncomplicated. Happiness didn’t seem as elusive here, where deer and cottontails roamed free in your backyard and cool, silky whitecaps tickled your toes. Even hope somehow lost its sharp edges.

She heard footsteps and glanced over her shoulder. The pale gray house with the cobalt-blue roof and shutters sat on a rocky ridge to protect it from erosion. A thin trail bordered by shrubs led to the beach below. It was on this path that Zach trekked, narrowing the distance between them, dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of jean cutoffs. His muscular legs glinted gold in the sunlight, reminded her of the old days when she’d watched him run with a snag in her heart and a lump the size of a grapefruit trapped in her windpipe. Shadows danced across the flat planes of his face, heightening the dramatic blue of his eyes and deepening the grooves on his cheeks. Everything about him was long and lean and hard. Her mouth went dry. For several pulse-pounding seconds, nothing existed but him.