Chapter Thirteen
Sara unpacked their suitcase while Hunter stepped onto the deck to make a call, his shoulders hunched against a brisk wind. Autumn could be chilly, but gorgeous nonetheless. Bright sunlight streamed through the glass doors, casting him in shadow. Beyond him she saw Haystack Rock just off the coast of Cannon Beach, jutting out from the glittering, dark-blue water. He’d planned this weekend getaway for their anniversary, yet he was on the phone with Bethany . . . again.
Leslie’s warnings resurfaced. Hunter had always admired his father and strove to emulate him in business. She couldn’t imagine he’d disrespect their marriage, but she suspected Jed had never foreseen himself falling out of love with Leslie, either.
She turned away from that thought. Hunter had agreed to the adoption and surprised her with this trip, which meant that she and this marriage still mattered despite their conflicting priorities.
They’d brought their bikes, fleece jackets, and hats. He’d even booked them a couple’s massage. The fireplace in their suite made it cozy and romantic. If she could get him to relax for the weekend, maybe he’d open up to her like he used to.
In her memories, she could still see the way his face had lit up with every thought he’d shared about books, workplace dramas, dreams, and whims. More recently he’d turned those thoughts inward. Not that he agreed with her assessment. If she prodded him, he’d brush it off as more of her complaining about his obsession with work. He didn’t see how those complaints were related yet distinct.
Hunter connected through physical contact, but she needed more and didn’t know how to make him understand, especially when he never wanted to discuss the changes in their relationship. She’d had to work hard to get him to show up for the foster care classes. He hadn’t even seemed all that interested in talking about A Man Called Ove with her the other night, but he used to love discussing books.
Through the glass door she saw her husband, his back still turned, head bowed, and, if she had to guess, brows pinched into a tight knot of concentration.
Once she closed the last drawer, she nestled among the pillows of the sumptuously made bed and called to check on Gentry.
“Is something wrong?” Gentry asked.
“No, I’m just checking on you.”
A long sigh preceded Gentry’s reply. “You’re celebrating your anniversary, right? Don’t think about me. I can take care of myself, Sara.”
She bristled. Knowing how Gentry had always felt neglected, she’d thought her attentions would’ve been welcomed, not scorned. “I know that house can feel empty when you’re alone.”
“Not to me. A little break from each other isn’t a bad thing. In fact, I’m going condo shopping today. It’s time I get out of your and my brother’s hair.”
“There’s no rush. I like your company.” Their idle chitchat had helped pass the time and reminded her of when she’d lived with her sisters. She also liked ensuring that Gentry stayed hydrated, ate well, slept well, and took those vitamins. “Is your mom going with you?”
“No. She’s still giving me the cold shoulder. Colby said she’d spare me a couple of hours.”
She shouldn’t be jealous of the sisters, yet she was. Her own sisters were hundreds of miles away, living their lives and raising their families together. She glanced out the sliding glass doors again and caught Hunter’s stern profile. “Well, good luck finding something.”
“Thanks. No more calls, Sara. Have a nice weekend.” Gentry clicked off before Sara could reply.
She sighed, gazing around the spacious room, with its beige-and-green decor. Home for the next two days. She shimmied off the bed and was plugging her phone into the charger when Hunter came into the room, letting a cold breeze follow him inside.
He closed the door, shivering. “It’s nippy.” After inspecting the fireplace, he flipped the gas switch. In an instant, golden-orange flames flickered behind the screen. “That’s better.”
He tossed his phone and glasses on the chair and steadily approached her, a lazy smile softening the hard planes of his face. “Cozy.”
“Very.” She reached for him, her hands twining through his hair, when he caught her by the waist and kissed her.
“You smell good,” he murmured against her neck.
“You’re easy to please.” Goose bumps trickled down to her shoulders, like they used to whenever he touched her.
“Most people wouldn’t agree.” He chuckled and began unbuttoning her shirt. It skimmed over her shoulders until it fell away, and then he looped his fingers beneath her bra straps. “I always loved this set.”
The pale-blue satin and cream-colored lace lingerie had been a Valentine’s Day gift one year. “I know.”
“But as much as I like it, I think I prefer you in nothing at all.” He unhooked her bra and removed it, cupping the weight of her breasts in his warm hands.
She arched into him and kissed him, making him moan. That sound in his throat boosted her confidence. It’d been too long since they’d had really great sex. Since she’d felt eager and free and hopeful and desirous. Playfully, she pushed him onto the bed and straddled his hips. His eyes lit with appreciation and surprise.
Her skin warmed as he ran his hands up her thighs and back.
“Come closer.” He tugged her down until his mouth found her neck, shoulders, and breasts.
Her blood heated, and a pleasant, urgent ache pulsed in her abdomen and between her legs.
The firelight danced around the room as they kissed, fondled, and murmured dirty words. His hot mouth trailed down her neck, his hands cupped her bottom. “Sara,” he moaned, squeezing.
Desire shot through her like it hadn’t in a long time. She closed her eyes, wrapping a leg around his hip and stroking his thigh and back. “Yes.”
His powerful body took control, muscles flexing as he worshiped her with each touch. He kissed her jaw, tongued her ear, and then crushed her mouth with his in a hungry kiss.
She opened her eyes to find his intent gaze on her as he slid inside her, filling her with his essence. Skin to sweat-soaked skin, tongue to tongue, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, until they cried out in exaltation. Exhausted, they lay in each other’s arms until their breathing settled.
She pillowed her head in the crook of his shoulder as he stroked her hair.
“It’s nice to be alone without fear of interruption.” He kissed the crown of her head.
“It is.” And then, hoping to convince him to leave the office behind for two days, she added, “Until the phone rings.”
He tensed. “I have to take calls this weekend. I’m working on something, and I can’t risk letting anything go unanswered.”
So, he’d come up with a plan. She should feel happy for him, but a growing part of her believed they’d be better off if CTC were sold. “What’s this super-secret solution?”
“Nothing you’d find interesting.” He continued to rhythmically stroke her hair and shoulder.
She stared at the ceiling, considering his meaning. “Don’t you trust me?”
A measure of silence passed between them.
“Why risk an accidental slip in front of Gentry?” He toyed with the pendant he’d bought her weeks ago. “Besides, you hate talking about CTC.”
She couldn’t deny having given him that impression. But the truth was she hated competing with CTC for his attention, which was a little different. “Bethany knows, though, right?”
“Of course.”
“Of course.” She recalled the way Bethany had leered at Hunter at his conference table and felt a frown form.
As if sensing her mood, Hunter rolled her onto her back and lay on top of her. “Sara, we’re here to celebrate our anniversary. To spend time together away from work and my family. To walk on the beach, laze around, indulge in good food.”
“I know. I just don’t like the idea that you confide in her instead of me.” Her petulance might not be fair, but her misgivings were sincere and deep-rooted.
“Don’t let my mom’s paranoia get in your head, babe.” He twirled her hair in his fingers, then used it like a paintbrush against her jaw. “You’ve been happy and busy with Gentry and the Angel House.” He paused for a fraction of a second there, but let it go. “Why do you care if I’m busy at work? You know what’s going on.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. I’m in the fight of my life. A fight you’ve made it clear that you’re sick of. I purposely planned to leave it behind and be with you, and now you want to talk about it?”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. This is a beautiful surprise, and I don’t mean to ruin it.” She trailed her fingers along his back. His gaze softened and spurred a well of tenderness to rise in her chest. “I just want us to share everything like we used to. No secrets or silences.” Now she could no longer blame only him for that widening gap. “Lately we’re shying away from tough conversations, while hardly discussing fun stuff, either.”
“I’m not shutting you out of anything that matters to us and our marriage.” He kissed her.
She didn’t agree, but then again, she wasn’t exactly giving him the blow-by-blows of her work at the Angel House.
“Let’s get dressed for dinner.” He kissed her shoulder. “I promise I’ll talk about anything else you want . . . politics, that book you just borrowed from Colby, even family gossip. What’s your crazy sister Lisa doing these days, anyway? Still having trouble with that composting toilet?”
Laughter bubbled up in her chest. Lisa, her baby sister, had recently bought a tiny house and parked it on Mimi’s farm. The whole contraption was less than two hundred square feet and didn’t even have a real stove. A tight space, especially when one factored in Lucas, her sister’s eighty-pound black Lab.
Hunter dragged her out of bed and into the shower. Forty minutes later, they dressed for the dinner show at EVOO and turned off the fireplace.
On a whim, she asked, “Can we leave our phones here during dinner? It would be rude to step out in the middle of their cooking lesson to take a call.”
He paused, nostrils slightly flared as he thought. “Sure.” He tossed it on the bed and reached for her hands, the corners of his eyes crinkling above a soft grin. “I love you in this red dress.”
“You’re not too shabby yourself.” She tugged at his freshly pressed collar. “Let’s go so we’re not late.”
“Tell the truth. Do you want to grab a pizza?” Sara’s face filled with good humor as they left EVOO and crossed the parking lot to their car. If he could somehow capture this moment and keep her locked in it, he would.
“Nope.” He hadn’t expected to like the food so well, given that EVOO was a foodie place Alec had recommended. But the chefs, Bob and Lenore, had been entertaining and educational, and the portions hadn’t left him hungry. “That chicken was amazing. I hope you were paying attention and can make that at home.”
“I was. Tonight was fun. If we come back to this town, let’s eat here again.” She kissed his cheek as he held her door open for her, then slipped into her seat.
Her buoyant mood boded well for the evening and tomorrow’s bike trip. And they’d made it through dinner without bringing up CTC or babies—a welcome change.
“Should we go out for a drink?” Her bright eyes glittered.
He started the engine. “I packed two of our favorite bottles of wine. Why don’t we go enjoy one on the deck? We can pull a blanket off the bed and watch the ocean for a bit. Talk without crowds.”
“It’s chilly.”
“I’ll keep you warm.” He glanced at her in time to see her blush.
“I bet.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Sure. Take me home, then take me to bed.” Sara stroked his thigh, and he thanked God he’d been struck with the inspiration for this getaway.
This was what they’d needed—an escape from the mundane. From the family and work and the future. A couple of days to unwind before they went back to reality.
She brushed her hair away from her face, her tone turning wistful. “Did I tell you Gentry was going to look at condos this afternoon?”
This night kept getting better. “Great. We’ll have a few months alone before the baby arrives.”
“True.” Sara turned and stared out her window, not nearly as enthused.
The car remained quiet for a minute or two. “You don’t sound as excited as I am about having time alone together.”
“I’ve enjoyed Gentry’s company. Like a surrogate for my own sisters, who I miss. Plus, with her right there, I could be part of the pregnancy. It’s been fun to eat with her and take walks and stuff. I’m sure it sounds silly, but it’s given me a little taste of what it would be like to be pregnant. Once she moves out, it’ll feel like I’m imposing if I ask to tag along.”
He stared at the road, absorbing the wistful sadness in her voice when she spoke about how she would never experience pregnancy. Her sorrow physically hurt his heart—he couldn’t stand being powerless to help. The best that he could do was redirect her thoughts.
“Babe, you’ll still be involved. And besides, we should probably do some more things like this before the baby comes.” He squeezed her hand, wanting her good mood to continue. Truthfully, Gentry’s moving out would be healthier for everyone, and his sister deserved to experience this pregnancy with some degree of freedom and privacy, too. “Let’s try to squeeze in that trip to visit your family soon, too.”
Sara perked up. “I’d love that. You’d come?”
“Yes.” He needed to go with her, no matter how poor the timing. “You’re always with my family. It’s been too long since I’ve made it down to see yours.”
She kissed his hand. “I’ll check with them for potential dates.”
They finally arrived at their room. He switched on the fire while Sara uncorked the wine. In the middle of the bed, he noticed his phone. His fingers itched to pick it up, but he’d been doing so well he didn’t want to blow it. Just as he was about to turn away, it lit up with an incoming text.
Sara noticed, too. She poured two glasses of wine and conceded. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks, babe.” He snatched the phone and scrolled to his texts, then frowned. A total of eighteen text messages from both sisters and Jenna, plus some voice mails. Dad. Coma. Hunter? Hospital. Tests. Where are you? “Jesus!”
“What?”
He sank onto the edge of the bed rather than stumbling on shaky legs. “I don’t know. I think my dad’s in a coma. I . . . I can’t tell.”
Sara’s face drained of color. He, meanwhile, froze. Just froze.
Sara set down the wineglasses, pried the phone from his hand, scrolled through the texts, and then called Colby. She stood beside him, stroking his hair while waiting for an answer. “Colby? What’s happening? Hunter and I just got these messages.”
Hunter willed himself to move, stretching his fingers while watching his wife’s face pinch with concern. Abruptly, he held out his hand and gestured for the phone.
“Here’s your brother.” Sara handed him the phone and immediately began packing their things.
“Sis?”
“Dad’s in the hospital.” Her voice cracked. “They’ve kept him from slipping into a coma, thank God, but they’re running all kinds of tests. They don’t know the extent of damage or have a real prognosis yet.”
“What the hell happened?” His wife winced at the volume of his voice.
“His brain is swollen. They think he has some rogue virus or something. They’re trying to control it. Can you guys come back tonight?”
“We’re leaving now. How’d this happen, and where the hell was Jenna?”
“You know he hasn’t been right for a while. He really felt sick yesterday evening and through the night—groggy, headache, feverish—so he stayed home today thinking he had the flu. By the time Jenna came home from work, he was sprawled out on the sofa totally out of it.”
Hunter shook that image away. “So we don’t really know how long he was in that state?”
“Not exactly, no. Look, the nurse is coming back. Just get home. We’ll be at the hospital until they kick us out.”
“Okay. Take notes.” He hit “End,” closed his eyes, and pinched the inside corners with his fingers to stop the burning.
An image of his dad prostrate on his sofa, mouth open, eyes wide and dazed, returned. His proud father had been alone and probably afraid—had recognized oncoming danger yet been unable to call anyone. Helpless. Nothing was more terrifying than helplessness.
“Hunter?” Sara crouched in front of him, placing her hands on his thighs. “Stay strong, honey. Your dad will be okay. The doctors are on it now.”
His swollen throat choked off any response. Stay strong, she said. How many times did he tell himself those very words, and how often had his strength failed to affect the outcome of things like this?
“Honey, hand me the keys.” She stood and rolled the suitcase toward him. “I’ll drive so you can make calls or research stuff on the ride home.”
He nodded toward the table, where he’d tossed the keys after they’d returned to the room. Mutely, he followed her to the lobby, dragging their suitcase along. No matter the ups and downs in his relationship with his father, he’d never stopped to consider life without him. They were both too young to have those thoughts, weren’t they? How did they end up here, with his dad getting this sick right under his nose?
“Go load the car.” She kissed his cheek and handed him the keys. “I’ll check us out and catch up in a minute.”
Her soft, confident tone settled him, although he didn’t register much else going on. Everything seemed darker now than it had twenty minutes earlier. Were people nearby, listening and watching? Had the weather changed?
He kept his head down during the first thirty minutes of the drive. He’d read at least six websites, including the Mayo Clinic’s page, to learn more about encephalitis. At this point, he still understood little to nothing, especially because he had no idea what had brought it on in his dad.
His dad had struggled with a series of colds this past spring and summer. Colby had raised bigger concerns about his health—the lethargy and aches—for months, but everyone, including their dad, had ignored her. Blamed it on stress and age. Not only had Hunter dismissed the warning signs, but he’d increased that stress by playing spiteful games at work.
Anger had clouded his observations and judgment, causing him to miss the truth. Regret bunched up in his chest as he watched the road signs blur as they passed, the low hum of the tires on the pavement playing like an ominous soundtrack.
“Is this my fault?” His voice—raw and cracked—sprang from a sore spot in his chest.
“No.” Sara firmly shook her head. “You’re not responsible for this.”
“We’ve been arguing.” He bent over in the seat, head in his hands. “There’s been so much tension at the office. That can’t have helped matters.”
She reached across the console and tugged on his forearm, forcing him upright. “Honey, you just read all about encephalitis. You know it’s not caused by workplace tension. He’s been lethargic for weeks and rubbing that knee all the time. He must’ve picked up a virus somewhere.”
“I feel sick.” He rocked forward, rubbing his pecs, but it didn’t help. It seemed as if the vents were sucking all the air out of the car. “My chest hurts.”
“Should I pull over? Do you need some fresh air?”
“No, keep going. I won’t throw up. No more delays.” Delays. His sisters had been calling for two hours. Guilt squeezed his chest, turning him hot with fear and bitterness. He played with the air vents. Were the fuckers even working? “If I’d had my phone with me at the restaurant, we’d be home already.”
Sara stared at the road in silence, possibly holding her breath. He knew this wasn’t her fault any more than it was his, but his anger needed a target, and she was the only one available at the moment.
His body betrayed him more with each minute, queasiness and heat spreading like a rash. Sara remained quiet, allowing his anger to consume the car without telling him how to feel or asking for an apology. Her stoicism enraged him. He wanted to scream or hit something to release the anxiety that had hijacked his sympathetic nervous system.
Miles later, Sara finally uttered, “I’m sorry. About the phone.”
Her dejected voice flooded his overwrought system with shame. Something inside snapped. He rolled down the window and puked over the side of the car.