The Sweetheart Bargain (A Sweetheart Sisters Novel) (37 page)

On the day of your fourth birthday, I hired a private detective to find you. For a while, I had thought maybe I could contact your adoptive parents, and have a relationship with you.

But then I received the first picture of you that the detective took. You and your parents were at the park. They were pushing you on a swing and you looked so happy, my sweet baby. I knew that my presence would only muddle things, so I let it go. I had my work, and I poured myself into that because I could tell the dogs about the day I walked away from my own baby and they didn’t judge or curse or hate me. I know poor Diana suffered from my absences, and I pray that you and she will build a bond that helps fill those gaps I left behind.

Over the years, I had the detective keep tabs on you. Just a once-a-year update, to make sure you were okay. Then I got sick again, and as the clock of my life ticked away, I wanted to do something to make up for what I had done that day in the hospital. But how does a mother ever make walking away okay? How does a mother ever make up for leaving her child crying in a nursery?

So I gave you the only thing I had that was worth anything. The only thing that got me through those years of regret and recrimination. This house and the animal shelter. I know Diana was probably shocked and hurt that I didn’t leave it to her, but please make her understand I never meant to hurt her. In my dreams, I imagined the two of you running this place together. Diana with her amazing veterinary skill and you with your intuitive touch with animals.

Please know that I always loved you. Every second of every minute of every day. I may have walked out of that hospital, but you never left my heart. Not for a single moment. I am proud, so, so proud, of the woman you have become, and will be eternally grateful to Anna and Dan for raising you and helping you become someone who has surpassed every dream I ever had for you. I love you, Olivia, and pray that you forgive me someday.

Love,

Mom

Tears clouded Olivia’s sight. The letter slipped out of her trembling fingers and tumbled onto the table. “She . . . she said she always loved me. That’s all I really ever wanted to know. That she loved me.” The last came out in a choked sob, part grief, part joy.

Diana slid out of her chair and gathered her sister into a tight, true hug. Olivia’s tears fell on Diana’s shoulder, but Diana held on tight, and the two of them mourned the woman who had given them life, then given them a new future as a family.

“Let’s see what else is in here, okay?” Diana said, drawing back, swiping at the tears in her eyes. “Hopefully nothing else in that box is going to make us cry. I don’t know if I have enough tissues for an ugly cry.”

The moment of lightness made them both laugh. The merry sound filled the kitchen as together, they started sifting through the box. They laughed over school pictures and newspaper articles about soccer goals. They oohed over prom pictures and first-day-of-school milestones. They compared their eyes, their heights, their style disasters. In this container, at least, the two sisters had grown up together.

The sun streamed in through the window, the dogs snoozed at their feet, and the clock on the wall ticked away the day. A little after four, Olivia’s cell phone started ringing. She almost let it go to voice mail, then saw Kris’s name bannered across the screen. “Hello?”

“Liv, you gotta come back. You have to see Millie.”

“Why?” Olivia put a class picture of Diana in fifth grade back into the box, then turned her attention to the call. “What happened?”

“You have to see it for yourself. And bring Miss Sadie.”

Olivia pressed Kris, but she wouldn’t say anything else. After Olivia hung up the phone, she turned to Diana. “Sorry. I have to go. Something came up with a patient at work.”

“Believe me, I understand. Kittens and puppies are usually born at the most inconvenient time.” Diana fastened the lid on top of the box. “Why don’t I put this in your car, and you can take your time to go through it?”

“If it’s okay with you, I’d love to do that with you. Just in these past few hours, I’ve learned more about our mother than I ever realized.”

Diana hesitated, then nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Me too.” Olivia drew Diana into a hug and thanked her again. The two words weren’t enough for all that they had gone through in the past couple of hours, or how grateful she was that Diana had not opened just the box, but also her heart.

At the door, Olivia turned back. “You never told me what your letter said.”

“She finally gave me the one answer I’ve wanted all my life, too.”

“What’s that?”

Diana bit her lip, then exhaled a long breath. “Who my father was.”

* * *

After his father left, Luke cleaned out the coffeepot, then headed for the leather recliner in the living room. The rest of the day stretched before him, as empty as every one of the days since the accident. His gaze went to Olivia’s house. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, which meant she was probably at work. He missed her, more than he wanted to admit. A part of him wanted to go over there and apologize and make it all better.

But once he did, where would he be? Right back in the same spot, having to decide between taking what they had another step forward or telling her the truth about what happened that night in the cold Bering Sea. What woman would want a man who had done what he had done?

Yes, he’d made some strides in the conversation with his father. But that was a far cry from telling the woman he cared about that he had killed his best friend. When those words slipped out, Luke had seen the light dim in Olivia’s eyes, the way she recoiled.

Like he was poison.

In a way, Luke supposed he was. He sure as shit wasn’t the bona fide hero Lois had called him.

The phone rang and instinctively, Luke picked up the cordless extension on the table and answered it. The second he heard the first skittish syllables, Luke knew who was calling. Damn.

“I don’t know if you remember me,” the woman on the other end said, “but this is Emma, Joe’s sister.”

She sounded older than the last time he’d seen her. Sadder. Guilt rocketed through Luke, and he cursed himself for sending the letter. But more, cursed himself for not calling her back. He’d taken the coward’s way out, and that wasn’t the kind of man he’d been before. “I remember you.”

“I . . . I got the letter and I wanted to talk to you about Joe. If this isn’t a good time . . .”

There’d never be a good time to talk about Joe. Luke sank farther into the chair, pressed one hand to his temple, and let out a long breath. “This is a good time.”

“I appreciate you sending me the letter. It was heartbreaking and wonderful, all at the same time, if that makes sense. Joe was so typical-Joe in the letter. Joking one minute, serious the next.”

Luke could hear Emma’s smile filling the distance between them. “That was him. He could make me laugh and get me back on track, all in one sentence.”

“Yeah. I miss that about him.”

“Me too.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and willed himself to keep breathing, keep talking.

“You know, he came home on leave a couple months before the accident. Just before he left, he wanted a hug, and I gave him a quick one, because I was heading out to meet my friends. I mean, he was my big brother. To me, he was always going to be there, you know? But if I had known . . .” A breath whistled out of her. “If I had known that would be the last time, I’d have given Joe a bigger hug.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. So he muttered something that sounded like “Yeah,” then let silence hum across the connection.

“Can you tell me about the day he died?” she asked. “The Coast Guard gave us some information, but . . . it’s never enough, you know? And I keep thinking if I have more, then maybe it’ll make this easier.”

It wouldn’t
, he wanted to say. He knew the whole story and that had made it more painful, rather than less.

Promise me.

But it was a promise he couldn’t keep. No matter how much he wanted to. “I’m sorry, Emma. I . . . I can’t.” Then he pressed the button, ended the call, and told himself he had done the right thing.

He sat there for a long time in the recliner, the phone in one hand, knowing he should call her back. His fingers seemed frozen, unable to press a single button.

A wet nose, then a soft head bounced under his opposite palm. Chance’s tail thwapped against the chair’s side,
tap-tap-tap
. Luke turned, looked at the dog, and saw nothing but compassion staring back at him from the golden’s big brown eyes. This dog, a dog he hadn’t wanted or asked for, but who had latched on to him all the same, and refused to give up.

Luke rubbed Chance’s ears. “I wish you could tell me what happened to you, buddy.”

Tap-tap-tap.

“Whatever it was, I bet it sucked, huh?”

Tap-tap-tap.

“Same here. You, at least, seem to have figured out where you’re going, even if you’re crazy enough to make that place here with me, you furry glutton for punishment.” He chuckled, then sighed. “Got any ideas for me? Like what the hell I am going to do with my life?” The dog didn’t answer him. And Luke didn’t have any answers either. Mike had said Luke could go back to the Coast Guard and work a desk job or do training—hell, vets from Iraq went back with missing limbs—but the appeal of the military had always been flying. Without that component, Luke didn’t have the same passion as before.

It doesn’t mean you stopped being a man
, Olivia had said.

Luke’s grandmother and Mike had been saying essentially the same thing. He needed to find a new normal, instead of mourning a past that was behind him. He’d spent too much damned time in the dark. Literally. Figuratively. Every way.

He clutched the phone and realized his darkness also shrouded others. Kept them from moving on, too. Emma had called him for answers, and instead of giving her what she wanted—no,
needed
—he’d taken the coward’s way out.

He was a different man, and it was time he accepted that fact and made a different life, instead of cursing the hand he’d been dealt. He looked at the dog, still healing, though the bandage was gone and fur had begun to cover the wound, and realized Chance had done the same thing. Wherever the dog had lived before was gone, and whatever he did from here forward would be different.

The dog nudged at him again, then let out a bark.
Tap-tap-tap
went his tail.

Luke spied a coil of brown on the floor, reached over, and picked it up. Chance’s leash. So that was why the dog had come over to Luke. He grinned. “Is that a hint?”

The dog barked again.

“You’re smarter than you look. Probably smarter than me, too.” Luke looked down at the dog, who just looked back at him, waiting, eager. Finally, Luke nodded. “Okay, but you have to promise to go easy on me, boy.”

Chance barked some more, then plopped his butt on the floor and waited, patient as a monk, while Luke changed into running clothes, laced up his sneakers, and clipped the leash onto Chance’s collar. He left the phone on the counter, then headed outside. When he hit the sidewalk, the sneakers felt odd, then perfect, molding more to his feet with each stride.

Luke and the dog started out walking, but then the familiar streets, the warmth of the sun, and the feel of the shoes worked their magic and before Luke knew it, he was jogging, then running. Chance kept pace at Luke’s knee, never leaving Luke’s side.

A quarter mile turned into a half, then a full mile. Another mile passed in a blur. The air rushed over his skin, and he drew in a deep breath, letting the sensation of speed fill him, ripple under his shirt, through his veins. As Luke closed in on the end of the third mile, his heart was hammering in his chest and Chance was starting to pant. Luke turned down his driveway and slowed to a walk.

At the door, Luke dropped to his knees, spent, grateful, overwhelmed. One simple event—a run with an animal as scarred by life as Luke was—and the raw, agonizing emotional wounds deep inside Luke had finally begun to scab over. He reached out and gathered the dog to him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Chance didn’t bark or wag or make a sound. He just stayed there, his warm body pressed against the chest of the man who had found him and given him a second chance at happiness and life.

And now, finally, the dog had returned the favor.

Twenty-three