Suited (St. Martin Family Saga) (6 page)

7

I
sa exited the
shower. She’d gone for a run to clear her head, but she’d had to cut it short; her breasts were bothering her. She thought maybe her period was ready to start, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Plus, her breasts didn’t usually get sore. They actually hadn’t been this tender since that time she’d been pregnant. She cupped them. They seemed full. And definitely sensitive.

She gazed down at her body and shivered. Then a thought landed in her mind. She rejected it right away. But when she felt the heaviness in her breasts, the thought jumped at her again.

No! It couldn’t happen again. It couldn’t. She started counting the weeks on her fingers. “Shit!” She dressed and grabbed her purse. She was on her way to the nearest drugstore.

Once she was back at home, Isa stood at the bathroom sink with one hand covering her mouth. She’d taken five tests, all in a row—boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. All the same. All positive.

She was pregnant with Cash’s child. Again. And he had abandoned her. Again.

She called her doctor and when she was insistent, she was told to come in, that they’d work her into the schedule so she wouldn’t have to wait until Monday.

In the waiting room she was surrounded by happy mothers with big round bellies and by memories. Memories of her belly swollen with Cash’s child. Memories of the birth. Memories of the moment they’d told her the boy was stillborn. Tears streamed down her face and neck. She’d done all that alone. She’d had no one.

She’d been so happy at the thought of having a bond with someone, even an infant. She was ecstatic, and so she’d powered through alone. Then she’d found out there would be no child. No infant to hold. No toddler to run after. No schoolboy to delight in.

After the birth she’d had to confide in someone and so she asked Camp for help. She’d sworn him to secrecy, and he’d promised he’d tell no one. To this day he had kept his promise.

The woman sitting next to Isa pulled a tissue from her purse and offered it to Isa.

“Thank you.”

The woman nodded. She probably thought Isa was suffering from wacky hormones. And maybe she was. But she was also suffering from the memories of what had happened and what would never be.

She had to wait almost an hour, but she was happy that her doctor had a half day on Saturday and could see her. Once she got in, the doctor told her she was eight to ten weeks along. Isa knew it had to be eight.

Knowing the history of the stillbirth, her doctor told her she would need to avoid stress. Her blood pressure had already increased from its normal rate, though Isa guessed part of that was due to her discovery that she was pregnant. The doctor suggested she eliminate all stressors if she wanted to have a shot at having a healthy baby. Isa tried to concentrate, but she missed half of what the doctor said.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” she told Isa. “We’ll go over this all again.”

Driving home, Isa kept replaying the doctor’s suggestion—
get rid of stressors
. Once she got home, she didn’t get out of the car. Sitting in front of her rental home, she rubbed at her stomach. A handful of companies had headhunted her, and she still had their contacts. She could get away, find a new job. Find a job in a different town where no one knew her. Where she knew no one.

She wasn’t ashamed of being pregnant outside of marriage; she was worried that living in Whiskey Cove would harm her child. And if not that, would break what was left of her heart.

As she thought of the life growing inside her, she made a decision. A life-changing decision.

Isa called her mentor, who had a consulting business in Hattiesburg. She asked him if he had any positions. He had nothing permanent, but for her he would find something. He told her to come and she’d have work.

She went to bed that night amazed by everything that had transpired in the last day. She cradled her belly with her fingers and tried to silence her mind.

On Sunday morning, after she’d been packing for several hours, her phone vibrated again and again. It had been going off nonstop, alerting her to incoming calls, texts, and email, so she’d set it to vibrate. It was Cash. She knew it was. She also knew that if she spoke with him, she wouldn’t do the thing she was about to do. She needed a fresh start, untainted by past sadness. No matter what he had to say, she had to leave. She was glad he hadn’t gone years without calling her this time, but she had more than herself to worry about. She didn’t know why he didn’t just come by the house, but she hoped that he wouldn’t. She focused on packing and loading her car. She guessed it would be smart to keep the rental home for a while, in case things didn’t work out in Mississippi.

After she loaded the last of her bags in her car, she looked around her little house. She had written Cash a letter and dropped it in the mail. She couldn’t bear the thought of hearing his low, raspy voice, so she couldn’t call him. Wouldn’t call him.

She loved Louisiana. And more than that, she loved the St. Martins. She would miss all of them, but there was something she would miss even more.

In a second letter she would tell Camp to let Cash know about their son so at least someone would visit their child’s grave. So he wouldn’t be alone. So he wouldn’t feel abandoned.

Tears flowing unchecked, she set out for Hattiesburg.

8

W
here is she?”
Cash pounded on the table in the temporary office in Whiskey Cove. He was worried about Isa. Where had she gone? He’d been searching for her for several days, but had faced a brick wall of failure.

“Mail.”

The runner who worked on the building site dropped a few envelopes, picked up the outgoing mail, grabbed a doughnut, and was off again.

Camp started going through the letters. “Hey, Cash, it’s a letter from Isa.”

Cash jumped up and grabbed the envelope. He opened it with shaky hands and unfolded the paper inside.

Dear Cash,

When you read this, I’ll be gone. It’s my intent to stay away. I can’t go through this anymore with you. We were together for three years and it almost killed me the last time you walked out. I realize your leaving has nothing to do with me. And that’s the part that hurts the most, that you can just ignore me and leave. I could never do that to you. If it isn’t worth it to you to stay and fight or at the very least to include me so that I can go with you, then we have nothing. Please tell Camp to take you to 4045 North Street and tell him thanks for being a wonderful, discreet, and loyal friend. I will always love you.

Isa

“Shit! I have to find her.” Cash’s hand fisted in his hair. “Camp, what’s at forty forty-five North Street?”

Camp frowned and then his eyes widened. He turned anguished eyes on Cash.

“Camp?”

“What did she say?”

“For you to take me to North Street.”

“We need to take a ride.”

They loaded up in Camp’s truck and he drove quietly, somberly, and refused to speak.

When he drove into a cemetery, Cash thought he was making a stop related to the business. He turned back to the letter crushed tight in his hand, and he kept seeing the words,
it’s my intent to stay away
.

They drove deeper into the beautifully wooded cemetery with its pink azaleas and canopy of trees.

“Camp, what the fuck?” Cash pushed his hands to his face, trying to understand what Camp was doing. What Isa was doing.

Camp parked the truck and got out, still saying nothing. Cash watched him, finally noticing how stiffly his brother was moving. He walked up to a stone adorned with fresh flowers and a plush animal and pointed.

Cash got out and followed him. He bent down toward the headstone.

Our baby boy

Born to eternal life

We will always love you.

June 11, 2005

CGSM & IP

Cash lost his breath, then fell to his knees. He read the inscription over and over, silently and then aloud. He must have read it twenty times. Then he went gravely still and quiet. He didn’t know how long he was there, but he welcomed the pain that throbbed in his knees. Finally he said, “How could you not tell me?” He started to cry and yelled, “How could you not tell me?”

Camp stepped closer. “She was pregnant when you left. No one knew but her. She didn’t plan on telling anyone. She was going to have the child and raise him on her own, but he was stillborn. She had gone through the pregnancy and the birth alone but when she called me, she said she needed my help with something she couldn’t do alone. She swore me to secrecy. I was worried about what she had to tell me, so I agreed. I didn’t know how to process what she was telling me. I just looked to her. She was so strong. She didn’t need me like she thought she did.” Camp swallowed audibly. “There was a ceremony. I stood by her side and bawled, but she never faltered. She did what she had to. That was when I realized women are far stronger than men.”

He closed his eyes.

“After that she and I became close friends. She’s loved you all these years. As she’s loved your son. She comes out and tends the grave weekly. Sometimes I come with her.”

Cash ran his shaking hand over the stone and then looked to his brother. “At least she had you. How can I ever repay you for what you’ve done?” Cash looked into Camp’s eyes and saw love. Simple, pure, and true love. Unconditional and forever love.

“Cash, you’re my twin. When you’re in pain, I’m in pain. Just take care of yourself. That’s all I want from you. It’s what I want for you.”

“I need to find her.” Cash would use everything at his disposal to get Isa back. Hell he’d kill if need be. He’d already hired an investigator. Had done that the moment he realized she’d left Whiskey Cove.

They drove back to the office in silence. When Dan Archer entered the office later that afternoon, Cash’s eyes went wide. “Please tell me you have a lead.”

“I’ve stumbled upon a promising connection in Hattiesburg.”

“Hattiesburg,” Cash echoed.

Cash wasn’t crazy about Dan but if he could help him find Isa, he’d send him a fucking yearly holiday card. Cash took the piece of paper that Dan offered.
HSI Foundation Testing and Consulting
. Cash stood and kissed Dan square on the mouth, and then he rushed out the door leaving a dumbfounded Mr. Archer asking Camp what the hell had just happened.

Cash drove the two and a half hours to Hattiesburg uncommonly clear-headed. When he reached the outskirts of town, he put HSI’s address into his GPS. He didn’t really have a plan, just to connect with Isa and convince her to come back. He thought that sounded too easy, but he had to start with something.

Cash drove to the building that housed HSI. His luck was holding—Isa’s black Camaro was parked in the lot.

He walked through the door, and a scrawny receptionist with a high-pitched voice greeted him.

“May I get you coffee or water?” she added.

“No. I have a meeting with Isabela Petrovich.”

After doing the standard rove of his body from head to toe, she smiled and said, “Right this way.”

The offices were made of glass. He spotted Isa before she saw him.

Two men were seated at her desk. The receptionist stuck her head into the doorway and said, “Miss Petrovich? Mr. uh…” She looked back to Cash.

“She knows.”

The receptionist shrugged and bounced away, popping her gum. Cash would bet money Isa couldn’t stand the girl. He stood in the hallway while Isa finished up her meeting. Occasionally she would eye him nervously.

When the men exited her office, Isa stood. Cash walked inside. “Isa.” He bent and kissed her chastely on the cheek.

“Did you read my letter?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Her eyes searched his. He didn’t mind. He wanted her to see, to know, what he was feeling.

Cash sat in a chair and motioned for her to take the other one. “God, Isa.” He choked back a sob. “I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.” Tears flooded his eyes but he kept them in check. “You gave birth to our son.”

She took her purse out of her desk drawer and tugged his arm. “Let’s go.” Cash didn’t argue. He stood and let her lead him out. She put him in her car and drove to an apartment building.

Cash followed her up the steps. Once inside her apartment, she set him at the combined breakfast-dining table and started the kettle for tea. He relaxed a bit, not quite smiling—trust Isa to heat water the old-fashioned way rather than using the microwave.

She dropped peppermint teabags into mugs and fussed around while she waited for the water to heat. She carried their tea to the table and joined him. Then Isa put her hands over his.

“Cash, you saw the grave.”

He heard her say something, but he couldn’t get his body to respond.

“Talk to me please.”

She wanted him to talk, but he couldn’t. The pain was too new. Too fresh. Too big.

“If you won’t talk, then I’ll talk to you.” She squeezed his fingers. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was completely freaked out. I had just graduated and had my first job. You had left. I was frantic. But then I started to think about what it meant to have a child, and I became so unbelievably happy. I would finally have someone I could love who’d love me back. We’d be a family of two. We’d have that bond, that connection, the one where no matter what happens, no matter what you do, if you can just get back home, everything will be fine.”

She inhaled a ragged breath, and Cash lifted his head. Searched her face.

“But I didn’t get any of that.” Huge tears spilled from her eyes. She wiped them away with her fingertips.

Silence hung between them. Each breath was torture. Then she said, “I painted his room blue.”

The harsh whisper of her last words brought him around. The haunting pain in her eyes had Cash flinching.

“I painted it blue.”

The tears fell nonstop, and she just sat there, not blinking.

“Isa?”

She didn’t move. Cash lifted her from the chair and took her to the bedroom. He stripped them both bare, and they climbed into bed.

“You painted his room blue?”

“I used a choo choo train theme.”

Cash knew from Camp that she hadn’t spoken about this to anyone. Nothing about their son. Nothing about his death. But all the restrained emotion was now pouring out. Isa’s voice was scratchy, her cheeks pale, her body quivering. He held her tight.

“I bought a rug shaped like a caboose and a lamp that had a train that went around on a track.”

Cash kissed her lips. “Did you give him a name?”

Isa blinked. “I did, but I couldn’t use it on the headstone.” She grabbed his hand. “I couldn’t do that, Cash.”

He kissed her again. “Why not?” he whispered. He guessed he wouldn’t have been able to stand seeing a name on the stone either.

“Because I named him Markos, after my father, and the thought of so much loss around me…” Her voice strained as she swallowed down a sob. “… I couldn’t bear it. So on the stone I wrote
baby boy
.”

Cash kissed her shoulder, offering comfort. Seeking it. “I like
baby boy
. I like the message on the stone too.”

Isa nodded and more tears fell. Cash kissed them away. He kissed down her neck and to her breast, taking the taut nipple into his mouth and grazing lightly with his teeth. He moved over to the other nipple and suckled tenderly. Then he nuzzled between her breasts, just holding her. They listened to the sounds outside the apartment, the cars driving along the street and the faint murmurs of voices. He caught the sound of a clock ticking somewhere in the apartment, but he also heard, or maybe felt, Isa’s heart beating.

She’d been through so much alone. He closed his eyes. And he’d missed so much, the good and the bad. He needed…

Would she understand what he needed? That he needed to touch her, to love her? To celebrate life with her at the same time he mourned their child?

He kissed his way down her body, dipping his tongue into her navel. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, Cash spread her legs, pinning her hips back and into the mattress. He rubbed his whiskers and his tongue along her seam, using a thrusting motion. Isa cried out his name. He nipped at her clit with his teeth and rolled the bud between his lips. Isa moaned. He spread her pussy lips with his fingers and drove his tongue as deep as it would go. Isa’s hips came up, and she squeezed his head between her legs. Cash pushed her legs open with his hands and held her knees back as he lapped up her juices.

“Cash, please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Please… I need you inside me.”

He set her legs down and used his knees to push between her thighs.

He sensed her need, knew she needed to feel alive, that she needed him to hold her, to touch her inside and out—knew that’s what
he
needed—and so he grasped her waist and pulled her down aggressively so that her ass and sex slammed into his groin. “How do you want it?”

“Hard. Rough. Make the pain go away.”

Cash’s breath caught and he had to bite back a cry. He tipped his head against hers until he could breathe again, and then he pushed a pillow under Isa’s ass so her entrance was angled up toward his waiting cock. He grasped her hips tight, aligned the tip of his dick with her entrance, and slammed into her hard. Isa screamed his name.

“Harder, baby?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

He pulled out and rammed her again with force. “Again?”

“Yes.” Isa cried through the tears.

Cash pulled all the way out and pressed in again. Isa was weeping, and he couldn’t take it. He leaned forward and, sliding his hands around her back, he cradled her and pulled her up to straddle his legs. He pumped into her with moderate force and held her close to his chest. He whispered into her ear, “Isa, I love you. I want you to marry me.” Tears fell from his eyes, from hers, and rolled down their bodies and to the sheets. He needed to know that he could spend the rest of his life giving back everything she’d given to him. It would take him a lifetime. “Please marry me.”

No other words were spoken. They made love long into the night and fell asleep entangled with one another.