California Homecoming (6 page)

Sarah laughed again, her spirits lightening with each chuckle. Mandy should come around more often.

“What’s so funny?” Mandy asked.

“There’s this guy — ”

“Oh, good! We need a guy.”

“We do NOT need a guy. I’m specifically going to search for a female plumber.”

“But what about the guy?”

Sarah smiled. “His family used to own the house.”

Mandy waved a hand. “Is he good looking?”

Sarah’s smile broadened. “Yeah.” She tamped her enthusiasm down. “But that’s not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point. You don’t want an old-guy plumber who has half his butt hanging out. A young plumber with a nice butt would be okay — eye candy would be good around here.”

“That’s what got me into this predicament in the first place — eye candy.”

Mandy studied Sarah’s belly. “True.” She chuckled.

Sarah’s grin turned to a laugh. Mandy’s laugh broadened.

They lost control and roared their release. Sarah’s heart lightened in a way it hadn’t since she told Rick she was pregnant.

Daisy barked as if she was joining in with the fun.

When they finally calmed down, Mandy patted Sarah’s hand. “It’ll be all right.”

The women sipped their tea.

“You know,” Mandy began, “I could help. I bet you know some other people who could pitch in.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because that’s what people do,” Mandy said. “They help each other.”

“Maybe those people who do barn-raising in the Midwest somewhere, but Santa Cruz? Get real.”

Sarah paused. When had she become so cynical?

“Seriously. Get a bunch of people together. I’ll pull together some food and wine — I can show off what I can do. We’ll take a Saturday or Sunday and clean the house from top to bottom. I bet your mom would help out.”

A warm glow began to fill Sarah. Maybe Mandy’s idea would work. John and Annie would be supportive — especially if they wanted to have their wedding in June. She smiled. “You could be on to something.”

“Of course I am. People like you, Sarah. They know how hard you and your mom work. They’d be happy to pitch in. Maybe that guy’ll show up. He could start the plumbing work in the kitchen.” Mandy took a slip of paper from her black and silver purse. “My list.” She presented it to Sarah.

Sarah scanned the list and groaned. “Do I really need all of this for
breakfast
?”

“Most of it. There are a lot of regulations about what you need and some of it makes sense to have in case you ever do want to cater a party. You don’t have to buy everything new. Owning a restaurant can be precarious. They go out of business all the time. You can pick up some cheap second-hand stuff.”

“Still … ” Sarah stared at the list and absently rubbed her stomach, the familiar fear returning. What if she blew it? Then she really would have nothing and she’d have to raise her baby at her mom’s.

That would be the total end of her life as she knew it.

Maybe she should reconsider Hunter’s proposal. Or allow Rick back into her life.

Her stomach churned.

Maybe not.

Mandy pulled her phone from her purse. “You don’t have to do a thing except invite some people.” A frown crossed her face. “And maybe pay for supplies. I’d do that for you except I don’t have much money at the moment. Slow season for tips. But I can take care of everything else. Let’s say two weeks from yesterday. We can get a crew, ladders, maybe even some paint if you want start redoing the walls.”

The freight train was back.

Sarah smiled and moved closer to Mandy to make plans for the work party. Having a new friend was almost enough to make her forget Rick’s phone call.

Almost.

“What were you doing in my office?” Hunter’s father snarled a greeting.

“Hello to you, too.” Hunter said and walked toward the living room. His sheetrock job had ended on the day before and he’d decided to drive to Sausalito on Friday to search again for the cabinets. His father should have been at work.

“I asked you a question.”

“I was trying to find something.” Hunter tossed the phrase over his shoulder before crossing the room to his mother’s recliner. “How are you, Mom?”

Her forehead wrinkled with concern. “How did you get into your father’s office? No one’s allowed in there.”

I bet.

“Nothing to worry about, Mom.” He patted her hand and turned to face his father who had followed him into the living room.

“What were you looking for? There’s nothing of yours in
my
office.”

“I didn’t know that was your office.” Hunter walked back to the hall. His mother didn’t need to overhear this. “Cheap lock.” He shrugged. “I learned some new skills while I was away.”

“Stay out. There are private things in there.”

“Things mom shouldn’t know about?”

His father’s eyes glanced away. “So what is it you’re so hell-bent on finding?”

“The cabinets I was working on before I went overseas.”

“Why?”

God. Why was everything with his father a production?
“I’m thinking of opening my own business.”

His father snorted. “What? Isn’t the government handout enough for you? Your generation is too soft. Your grandfather never took anything from the feds after Vietnam.”

Granddad drank himself to death. Not exactly a great role model.

“It’s not a handout,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s a disability payment. And it’s only good until I get back on my feet.” He cringed as he used the cliché. He’d never truly get back on his feet. “Which is what I’m trying to do.”

His father harrumphed. “If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t be in that predicament. There’s still a job at the firm for you. Good money. It would make your mother happy if you lived in civilization, not in that hippie town you love so much.”

Hunter’s fists clenched. “Thanks for the support, Dad. Have you seen the cabinets?”

“Check the back shed.” His father started toward the back stairs. “I’m going to call a locksmith for a decent lock. Stay away from things you don’t understand.”

Sure, Dad.

Hunter went through the kitchen to the back door, past the patio to what his mother called “the garden shed.”

Junk shed was more like it.

Hunter opened the door and cleared the cobwebs from the frame. After his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he scanned the piles of discards. Nothing appeared to be a cabinet, but there were so many piles he couldn’t know what was underneath.

Groaning, he began to shift the piles.

Two hours later, he found his cabinets.

Or what was left of them.

Someone had deliberately smashed the frames into the concrete floor and thrown cinderblocks on top of them. The cabinets hadn’t stood a chance.

Hunter stooped and picked up a shard of cherry wood. He stared at the broken piece, wondering if his life was even worth retrieving.

• • •

The gun was exactly where it had been before Hunter went to war, in a drawer in his father’s bedroom. The Smith & Wesson felt light in his hand, a toy compared to what he’d carried in the Middle East.

But it would do the job.

He slid the gun behind his back, lodged it in his waistband and pulled out his shirt to cover it. No need to have a discussion about the gun with his mother.

“Do you have to leave?” his mother asked.

“Yes, Mom.” He kissed her gently on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“But why can’t you stay here? Sausalito is a lovely place. You could meet some girl. Your father said he’d find you a job.”

Like all the other promises his father never kept, Hunter didn’t believe this one, either.

Hunter stifled his sigh. “I like what I’m doing, Mom. You know I’ve always liked Santa Cruz.”

“Yes, I see. It’s just … ” She gestured to his leg, but didn’t glance at it.

He forced a smile. “I can do anything I used to. No need to worry.” He couldn’t stand being here another minute, his mother’s pity washing over him. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Okay.”

He strode out of the living room to the hallway. After grabbing his jacket, he opened the front door and left.

Once he cleared the tight houses of San Francisco, Hunter took the Pacific Coast Highway, driving past sandy cliffs, his mind drifting with the tide. January was too early for migrating whales, but in a few months the gray behemoths would be making their way north again. Perhaps they’d float through the Monterey Bay like they’d done on that magical day when he was twelve.

Before everything changed.

Hunter hadn’t ever been able to figure out what had gone wrong. His father was a successful estate attorney. The money had flowed and his family had been comfortable.

Even his mother had been happy then.

In the midst of this easy life, a canker had appeared. His father spent more time in his office and his mother, when she was around, spent most of her days on the front porch, staring at the garden.

When his parents were together, which wasn’t often, they vacillated between stony silence and screaming matches. Whenever they started, Hunter jumped on his bike and rode to the beach, surfboard hooked in the rack on his bike.

At the end of his eighth grade year he’d been informed they were moving to Sausalito.

Hunter shook the memories from his mind and focused on the small shops leading the way to Half Moon Bay. He swung off the highway and headed toward Pillar Point.

Why was he putting himself through this? All his life he’d wanted to surf Maverick’s and now it was beyond his reach.

His father’s gun in the glove box mocked him.
Isn’t that why you brought me along?

Hunter began to sweat. He swung the Jeep into a parking lot and stopped. After he retrieved his father’s pistol and grabbed a pair of binoculars, he maneuvered his body to the ground. The salt air cleared his senses.

Maybe I’m making the wrong decision.

He walked the trail to the bluffs overlooking Half Moon Bay.

In the distance he could barely see the high waves of Maverick’s surf. The place had called some of the world’s best surfers to their death, but Hunter still craved a battle with the elements.

“You a soldier, mister?”

Hunter looked down at the scrawny boy with wind-strewn hair by his side.”Not anymore.”

“Is that how you lost your leg?”

“Yes, son. In the war.” Hunter made his voice gruffer than usual, hoping the kid would get the hint.

“It must have been scary.”

“Yep.” It had taken him almost a year to admit he’d been scared. His therapist had treated the statement like some kind of miracle. Hunter thought it added to the embarrassment of living.

“You must be brave.”

“Not really.”
What is it going to take for this kid to quit?

The boy shrugged toward the ocean. “You ever surf Maverick’s?”

Hunter took a deep breath. “Never got the chance. And now — ”

“Sorry. I didn’t think. My mom says I do that a lot. Not think.”

Hunter grinned in spite of himself. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Billy.”

“Well, Billy, it’s good to meet you.” Hunter held out his hand. The boy shook it.

“My mom says soldiers are heroes. She has to ’cause my dad’s in the army — just like you were. Weren’t you? Or were you somewhere else?”

Hunter’s shoulders straightened. “I was a Marine.”

“Wow. That’s hard-core.”

Hunter laughed and smiled at the boy. “You going to surf Maverick’s when you’re older?”

Billy shook his head. “No. I’m going to be a soldier like you and my dad. I want to be someone my mom can be proud of. My older brother’s a surfer.” Billy shrugged again as if the statement covered everything you needed to know about his brother.

Billy gazed up at him. “Thanks for talking to me, mister. I feel closer to my dad when I talk to a soldier. I can’t wait to tell my mom I met a real Marine. See ya.” He picked up a sand-covered bike from the ground, hopped on and peddled off.

Thanks for talking to me, son.

Hunter walked back to the Jeep, threw the gun in the glove box, and locked it. He rolled down the windows, cranked up the radio, and took off down the coast.

It was a good day to be alive.

• • •

“There’s got to be something else, Joe,” Hunter said to his friend the next morning in the little shop behind Joe’s house. Rain pounded the tin roof.

Joe shook his head. “Slow season. You know that. Some roofing jobs if the weather ever lets up, but … ” he gestured faintly to Hunter’s leg.

Damn it.
His injury was going to cost him everything. Correction. Already had cost him everything. A vision of Lauren’s face appeared in his mind.

“I’m sorry, Hunter,” Joe said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything that suits you.” He handed Hunter an envelope. “Here’s your paycheck.” Joe regarded him steadily. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Hunter stuffed the envelope in his jeans pocket and walked out of the house. If his best friend couldn’t see him as a complete man, who would?

He slid into the Jeep and glanced at the glove box.

No.
The voice seemed to come from a place deep within him.
You’re better than that.

I hope so.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, got back out of the car, and strode back to Joe’s office. “Can I use your workshop?”

“Sure.” Joe shrugged. “What are you thinking of doing?”

“Building cabinets.”

“Okay.” Joe handed him a key. “Come and go when you want.”

Hunter took the key. “Thanks.” He walked back out the door, got into the Jeep, and roared off to the lumber yard.

• • •

Sunday morning Hunter pressed a shirt and put it on, along with his best khakis. He thought about picking up a bunch of flowers on the way, but laughed at himself. He was trying to find a room, not a relationship.

“Oh, it’s you again,” Sarah said when she opened the door, the dog standing next to her. She was frowning.

Against all reason, something about her made him want to scoop her up in his arms and hug her. Because her T-shirt and jeans were dripping with dust, cobwebs, and streaks of soap, it was probably a bad idea, but her short height and big brown eyes gave her an appealing elfin look. He’d always been a sucker for Éowyn in
Lord of the Rings
.