CHAPTER ONE

SARA

The water helped calm my mind—at least, as calm as it can be. I was always like that when it came to water, and I couldn’t exactly explain it. I let my arms guide my movements, sliding in the water stroke for stroke. That sound of being under water. If you can call it a sound? I let my feet follow as the gentle swimming motion encompassed me completely, erasing all my stress and worry that had been plaguing me for lord knows how long.

An hour ago, the worried thoughts were endless, making for a clouded mind and a headache that I really didn’t want to deal with. Swimming was my go to in times like these, and now I had to say it was the best decision I made for myself this morning as the chatter vanished, replaced by a peaceful feeling. It was still early in the morning, which meant I had plenty of time to spare before I got on with my day.

It was only when my arms were burning that I finally stopped, realizing I already had more than enough laps to last me a day. I got out of the swimming pool feeling refreshed. Most importantly, the headache was completely gone, making way for a clearer mind and better feelings.

I decided to do something fun next: cooking myself breakfast. I wasn’t a very adventurous cook to begin with, but I was hankering for some eggs and sausages, along with some buttered toast. We used to have a chef at home, but since my kids had all gone to college, I decided that I should cook for myself and not waste my money. My first few times cooking involved charred food, which set the smoke alarms to screaming and had me panicking more than was necessary.

I was a bit more accomplished now. A bit. The eggs were pretty much burnt and the sausages were just a tiny bit charred on the sides.

Fine. So I couldn’t really cook. I was still pretty proud of myself for trying.

I ate everything with gusto, sitting at the kitchen counter and looking at the view of the house’s back garden. Quiet mornings in this house were the best—at the same time, it was when loneliness crept in and settled in my bones: something that I tried to ignore as I determinedly sipped on my hot cup of coffee. Years ago, I had children running around here and creating chaos, as well as a husband I needed to take care of before I could have some me time. Now, the children were doing adulthood, and my husband was gone.

“Happy anniversary, Gary,” I whispered in the air.

Then I cleaned the kitchen up, went off to shower, and got out of the house to buy some flowers.

*****

It had been five years since Gary died of cancer. He had been my sweetheart when I was in college, and he had already been making his mark in his field, and we’d gotten married the moment I got pregnant at eighteen. It should have been the end of my studies, but it had made me more determined to make it. We prospered together and loved each other dearly, then had a second baby that was just as much a joy as the first one. Gary had been a good father to the kids, and a good husband to me, providing me with all my needs and generally being an all-around good man. Whatever passion we had from college had simmered down to respect and a tender kind of love, and I thought it would be that way until we grew old.

An image of Gary in the hospital, with tubes all around him and in deep pain, flashed in my mind. I shook it off and knelt down in front of his gravestone. The flowers were purple and red, his favorite colors.

Cancer had a way of wearing you down, even if you weren’t the one riddled with it. Even if the memory was now faint, I could still remember how painful it had been to watch Gary as he struggled at home, barely able to walk or do the most menial tasks by himself. I’d made sure to be strong for him, but I was human, too. The first time I broke down and cried in front of him, he’d cried, too, telling me how sorry he was for giving me this kind of life. It had made me feel so guilty that I’d never broken down in front of him again, keeping it to myself and only crying when I was alone. It helped because Gary needed a pillar who would be calm and strong for him, not a bumbling mess.

“Hey, Gary,” I said softly. “Five years today my Love. Crazy. I miss you so much. We miss you but we are okay. With the kids in college I have the house all to myself. I even cooked breakfast for myself and didn’t burn the house down. Yay, right?”

Gary had always teased me about my cooking skills. Then he’d hired a chef for us, and I never had to think about cooking again. He was a problem solver, but during the years he had cancer, he became the helpless one who couldn’t do anything but watch me take care of him. In the end I knew he just didn’t want to live like that anymore, and so it had been a relief when he took his last breath and he could finally rest in peace.

The kids had been heartbroken, we all were.

The thought of them had me missing them, and I decided to call my eldest kid while I was driving. Christopher was twenty one and one of the most intense people I knew, which was why law had been a good choice for him.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hey, Chris,” I greeted him warmly, the sound of his voice making me miss him even more. “Is this a good time to call? Do you have classes?”

“I don’t have class until later, but I need to go to the library to study. I do have time to spare, mom. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

At the moment, he was top of the class and striving hard to go even higher. He didn’t call often, but when he did, he usually had good things to say about his studies. It never failed to make me proud, and I was proud now as he detailed how his article for a defense case that was going to be printed out as a sample for future classes.

I eventually broached the topic of Thanksgiving, asking if he could come home. I wasn’t surprised when he said he couldn’t and needed to use the time for studying, but that didn’t stop the disappointment. Still, I kept it in and did my best to be supportive, knowing he just wanted to be a man his father would be proud of. We hung up on a positive note, and I promised him I would send over some food to keep him stocked up.

As I approached my driveway, I called my second child right away—my daughter Carla, who was studying at another university and taking a creative arts course. She answered on the third ring, and the sound of her bubbly, cheerful voice had me grinning already.

“Mom! I miss you, mom! Hold up, let me find a quiet place,” she said over the din of noises I could hear in the background. It died down after a few seconds, and she was back on the line. “Okay, I can hear you better now. How are you?”

While Christopher was the intense one, Carla was the happy-go-lucky child who never failed to amuse everyone with her antics. We all doted on her, and I remembered how hard it had been to see her break down and when Gary died. It had taken some of the sparkle from her eyes, but five years was a long time, and I had been so relieved to see it come back little by little as time went on. Now, she was back to her old cheerful self and had graduated a year early from high school. I was surprised when she decided to go to art school, but the girl always did have a creative streak inside her, and I guess that won over now.

Like Christopher, she couldn’t come home for Thanksgiving due to a project she had to finish, but she did promise she’d be here during Christmas. I held on to that promise and wished her luck. When she hung up, I stared at the front of my house, which was full of lush vegetation. While I got rid of the chef to cook on my own, I couldn’t tend to the huge gardens by myself so I kept my yard maintenance staff on.

I knew I should be in my home office, tending to business. While I was no longer a very active CEO and had a great team of staff and board members, I still did some of the managing myself and even visited the head office most days. But today, I didn’t want to enter either office.

There was one thing that made me feel a little less lonely once my husband had passed away—going to the race tracks and watching race car drivers compete. I’d watched it on television because Gary was always a fan. While I’d been nursing myself through one of my heavy grief bouts I had spontaneously decided to go and watch it live. It had been one of the most thrilling things I’d ever seen in my life and it literally pulled me out of my haze and back into life. Just recently, I’d gone from being a fan and avid supporter to being the manager of one of the best race car drivers in this generation: Gray Denton. I had money and was always looking how to make it grow. Gray seemed like a good bet. He had started off as a womanizer with an arrogant streak in him and a flair for being a daredevil, but discovering the love of his life had tamed him a little bit. He’d been mismanaged by his previous manager and car sponsor, but I’d decided to take the risk and ask him to be my race car driver. Now, months later, it all paid off as he went on to win race after race and raked in more money for me. But more than that, managing him had heightened my passion for the sport.

I was pretty sure he was at the race track today practicing. Realizing that my intention earlier had been to get to the track, I turned the ignition on again and headed out.