Not Since You (11 page)

"Dad. Please. What is it between you two? She won't tell me, you won't tell me—but there's more to you guys than you're letting on. I know it. She shows up and you're already half in love with her, and I've never even heard of her. What is it?"

Zack shook his head. "I have to go to work."

He hurried out of the kitchen, grabbed the keys to the pickup and started off to the station. As he drove, he turned her question over and over in his mind. How could he tell his daughter that he'd never loved her mother? Never mind keeping the cause of her existence a secret. What was he going to do?

He had an obligation to Sarah to keep her secret. Even if Carrie said he'd done everything he could for her, marrying her and giving her daughter a father and a family… She'd been a great mother and—in the end—his best friend. They may not have had a traditional marriage, but she had been his wife. A good one. He couldn't betray her trust.

If Carrie hadn't shown up, none of this would have happened. He never should have pursued her. If only she had stayed in Texas, stayed away. If not for that dog…

              He had to tell Carrie they couldn't be intimate anymore. Not for a while. Maybe never. They'd stay friends—of course they would. But he wouldn't touch her, wouldn't kiss her, and definitely wouldn't sleep with her. Not for a while, anyway.

              Maybe she'd need to go back to Texas to tie up loose ends. If she did that, they could spend time getting to know each other again. With the Internet, it was easy to keep in touch with someone. And then, by the time Samantha went to college, Carrie could return to Rhode Island and they could resume their relationship.

              So by Thanksgiving, they'd be more of a couple and Samantha wouldn't speculate. Of course, he wouldn't allow Carrie to sleep over again. Maybe he could sneak to her house—

              And what? Climb the trellis to her room?

             
Oh, Becks. What am I going to do?
He leaned his head against the seat rest.

Zack's cell phone began warbling on the seat beside him. Carrie. He reached to answer it, then paused, his hand wavering over the device. He'd never been so glad to see someone in his life when she first showed up, but now…

He checked his rearview mirror before pulling over and picked up the phone. "Carrie," he answered, and winced at the stern tone in his voice.

"Zack! I need to talk to you. Right now."

"Wait—wait." He pulled air into his lungs. He couldn't believe he was about to do what he was going to do, send Carrie back to Texas and out of his life. A sudden thought struck him. What if she never came back? He pulled his sunglasses off and set them on the seat beside him. "Wait. Before you tell me anything, I need to tell you something." He steeled himself to break both their hearts.

Chapter Ten

              Carrie heard the determination in Zack's voice and bit her tongue. Just because Samantha had put in an application with Mike didn't mean that she was going to work for him—or even interview with him—immediately. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. "What's up?"

              "I love you, Carrie," he said, with a catch in his voice. He sounded strange, as if he were strangling, and with a sinking heart, she realized there was a "but" attached to his declaration of love.

             
Oh, no. Not again.
"Who is it this time, Zack? Who do you have to save now?" She couldn't stop the bitterness from leaching into her tone. She didn't want to.

              "Save…?" He sounded confused. "Listen, I…I was just thinking that maybe we're rushing into this."

              "Rushing into it?
Rushing
? Zack, it's been eighteen freaking years!" She gripped the phone in her fingers, wishing it were his throat.

              "I know. But it's been a long time since—"

              "Since what? Since you married Sarah?" Her anger boiled over now. How could he? How could he do this to her, not once, but
twice
? How could she let him? She
knew
she should have stayed away from him. They weren't meant to be together. It was a mistake to think that they could put everything to right and carry on as if eighteen years had never lapsed.

              "It's just that Samantha was asking a lot of questions this morning, Carrie. Questions that I can't answer. I promised Sarah I wouldn't—"

              "What about the promises you made to
me
?" Carrie wiped at the tears clouding her eyes.
"What about those?"

              "I meant them, Carrie—"

              "Meant it? Yet here you are, gouging the heart out of my body and tossing it away, all over again." She couldn't breathe.

              Ellie appeared from somewhere else in the house, as if from nowhere, pressing against her leg and resting her chin on Carrie's knee. She reached out to rest her hand on the dog's back, pulling strength and comfort from her. The tears trickled down her face, but the burning in her throat eased. "Zack Mahoney. I am sick and tired of always taking second place to your hero complex."

              "Hero complex? What the hell are you talking about?"

              "It doesn't matter, Zack. The only thing that does matter is—we're finished."

              "What? No, Carrie. It doesn't have to be like this. Samantha's leaving for college soon, and—"

              "And then what? We sleep together until she comes home for Thanksgiving and starts asking questions, again? What then? You make me disappear until she goes back? How long will it go on? When will it end? You have to tell her the truth if you want our relationship to succeed." She thought about Mike. "She
needs
to know."

              "She doesn't need to know anything, Carrie. I won't do it. I won't kill her by telling her the truth of her birth."

              "Then
I
will. She's going to get hurt. She needs to know. There are so many reasons to tell her, and only one reason why she shouldn't know. And that's because of your promise to Sarah."

              She could practically feel his anger radiating through the phone. His voice grew hard, flat. Authoritative. Cop-like. "You. Will. Not. Tell."

              Carrie fell silent. There was nothing more to say.

              Ellie shifted beside her and whined, a long, drawn-out cry. She leapt onto the couch beside her, huddling close and leaning into her as if trying to wrap around her, like a furry hug. Carrie put her arm around the dog and held tight. She closed her eyes, but she could still feel the splintering of her heart and soul. It hurt, so much. Fire, ice, darkness and pain.

She couldn't go through this again. It was better to get away from Zack, as quickly as possible. She thought about Samantha, interviewing with Mike, maybe working for him. What if he tried something with her? What if he accosted her—what if he raped her—as he did Sarah? His own daughter.

What if Samantha then became pregnant?

Carrie felt sick. As much as she wanted to, it wasn't her responsibility to tell Samantha. It wasn't her right. She had no place in Samantha and Zack's family, and she knew she never would. "Tell her, Zack. You have to tell her."

Carrie clicked her phone shut. The muffled sound was as final as the latch of a coffin.

*****

              "That's the last of it," Leo, the estate purchaser, told Carrie as his workers carried Nana's favorite brocade chair past and out the front door. It was like a stab in the heart, the worst kind of betrayal. She wished she could keep more of her grandmother's things, but there was no room in her small apartment. Carrie felt even worse when she noticed Ellie following along behind the movers, her head and tail down.

Leo handed her the check. "Some nice pieces here."

              "Thanks." Carrie folded the check, tucking it into her pocket. It burned against her hip. Not exactly thirty pieces of silver, but close. All those memories, all the things Nana had collected, cherished and cared for.
Gone to the highest bidder
.

             
Traitor,
Carrie thought. Nana had wanted her to stay here. She'd said it and even written it, not only in letters and e-mails to Carrie, but in her personal journals. Just the night before, while packing up the few things of Nana's she wished to keep, Carrie had read:

I wish Carrie would come home. She sounds so lonely in Texas. There's no family there, and though she has friends, I worry. She's got no love.

I saw Zack Mahoney in the market today. He's grown into quite a man, solid and dependable. He was with that girl of his, and you could see that he absolutely dotes on her. All I could think of was how wonderful it would be if Carrie came home and things were put right between them…how happy we'd all be. I wish she'd come home and stay. I suppose losing Zack was as hard a blow as losing her parents. Maybe worse. I just don't know how to make it better. If I could, I'd do anything to put things to right…

Sorry, Nana
. Carrie watched the men loading the chair onto the truck with the rest of the furniture and household goods she'd grown up with. When they were done and Ellie came back to stand beside her, she closed the door, turned, and leaned back against it.

Ellie sat down. "Aaoow?" she said, in a tone that sounded like,
What now?

"I don't know," Carrie said. "I called the realtor last night. She's setting up an open house for this weekend. I figured I'd spend the rest of the week repainting the cupboards." She started to the kitchen, her sandaled feet making a soft thump echo through the empty house. Ellie followed, her nails clicking loudly on the hardwood floor.

"I'm sorry I sold your bed," she told the dog. "I mean, it was Nana's bed, but it was where you slept. You're welcome to sleep with me—though I'm not sure we'll both fit on the air mattress."

Ellie sighed and lay down at the threshold to the kitchen. Carrie turned a slow circle, surveying the empty room. Without the chrome and Formica table, or the clutter on the counter—the old cookie jar that still smelled of oatmeal raisin, the ancient blender with two missing buttons, the breadbox that never quite kept the bread mold-free more than a few days—the kitchen felt huge, and the olive-green appliances less outdated.
Empty
. As if devoid of its soul.

"Pshw," Ellie sneezed from the doorway.

"You don't feel it, Ellie? I do. Nana was always in this kitchen. Now…I think…she's finally gone."

"Pshw!" Ellie sneezed again, more forcefully, and shook her head until her ears flapped.

"Dust," Carrie agreed, picking up a sheet of sandpaper from the counter. She'd already taken the hardware from the doors and drawers. Now all she needed to do was rough up the surface.

As she worked, sweat dripped into her eyes, and dust from the sanded cupboards brushed her cheeks. The house was so silent, except for the echoes. The worst part, Carrie realized, was that the task didn't stop her mind from wandering back to that final conversation with Zack two days before, or stop the ache from settling back into her heart the moment she was alone again.

Alone. That was the key word. She was now alone in the world—except for Ellie. Still, she didn't think she'd made the wrong decision, breaking up with Zack. If "breaking up" were the right words. "Nipping it in the bud" might be closer to the truth. Whatever they had between them, she knew, it wouldn't have had a chance with the truth of why Zack married Sarah instead of her between them and Sarah's daughter.

Ellie stood up then, stretching. She turned and disappeared, her claws click-clicking on the floor. Moments later, Carrie heard the doorbell ring. She took off the dust-mask, wiped her hands over her jean-clad legs and went into the foyer.

Through the sheer-curtained glass door, she could see a figure. A girl's figure.

Samantha.

Her heart dropped to her stomach.
I hope she's not here to try to talk to me about her dad,
she thought, and opened the door.

"Carrie! Thank God you're home," Samantha announced cheerfully and pushed into the house, grabbing Carrie in a bear hug. The scent of strawberry shampoo swirled around them. "I have something to tell you!"

Carrie broke free of the girl's embrace, surprised by how much it warmed her. She really loved Samantha, though she'd hardly known of her existence until only a few weeks ago. She would miss her, nearly as much as Zack.
Oh, Samantha
, she thought, and blinked back tears. "What's up?"

"I'm in love," Samantha gushed. "Oh, he's amazing, Carrie. You have to meet him." She grabbed Carrie's hand, turning to pull her into the living room, and stopped. "Where's your furniture?"

"Gone. I sold it."

"It was old," Samantha admitted. "What are you going to get now? Do you think you'll go modern?" She reached out to pat Ellie, who beamed up at the girl with her usual canine adoration.

Samantha doesn't know.
Zack hadn't even told the girl that they'd broken up—or whatever they'd done. He'd sheltered Samantha even from this. She shook her head. "No. I'm selling the house. I live in Texas, you know."

"Texas? You're going back to Texas? But I thought…" Samantha turned back to face her. "I thought you and Dad were…I don't know. Going to hook up."

Hook up
. Carrie smiled at the term. So easy, when you're seventeen, to treat love so casually and think it's forever. She shook her head and led Samantha to sit on the stairs climbing the foyer wall. "I did, too," she admitted. "But then we realized…well…sometimes these things don't work out."

Samantha's face fell. "I know. I feel so bad, talking about Mike when—"

"Mike?" Carrie sat up, a feeling of dread clutching at her stomach. "You don't mean Mike O'Hare, do you?"

"Yes! You know him!" Samantha stood up then, swirling about the empty foyer with the exuberance of a Disney princess. "He's wonderful, wonderful, wonderful…oh, Carrie." She hugged herself and beamed. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me."

The best sperm, maybe.
Carrie clenched her fists.
Take a deep breath, try not to freak out. Go easy…don't upset her.
"Samantha, we need to talk."

Samantha rolled her eyes. "But I met him the other day for an interview and he hired me. Then he took me to lunch and
then
, when he kissed me—"

"I know just what you're going to say. He's too old for me,
blahblahblah,
he's old enough to be your father—"

"Samantha!" Carrie took a deep breath, closed her eyes and spoke. "He
is
your father."