Whiskey Creek: Take Me Home For Christmas Part 36

"Then don't let that change!"

She frowned. "I have to do what I can. She's no good for you."

"Then let me learn the hard way. Is that too much to ask? If you're right, you'll be able to say 'I told you so' later."

"That won't heal your broken heart."

"If I lose her, my heart's going to be broken anyway."

"She said she's leaving."

"She's planning to. As soon as she gets a car and earns enough money, she wants to put this place in her rearview mirror, and I can't blame her-"

"She hasn't been perfect, Ted."

"And she knows that. But how much longer do you think she should suffer for the mistakes she made when she was a teenager? Another decade and a half? Would that be enough?"

"She was suffering when she had everything money could buy?"

"With the way Skip treated her? Yes!"

"That's hard to believe. She was so cold and remote, always acting better than everyone else."

"It was a defense mechanism, a way to cover for the fact that she was miserable and hanging on the best she could."

His mother folded her arms. "So you're hoping to convince her to stay."

"I am. And I'm hoping you'll accept her, for as long as she's part of my life."

"How can she be happy here? With the way so many people in town feel toward her."

"If she has me and you and my friends and Alexa, she won't need anyone else."

"There's a lot stacked against you."

"Mom, do you need to hear me say it? I'm in love with her."

With a sigh, she propped her chin on her fist. "I guess I'd better add her to my gift list, then."

That broke the tension enough that he almost laughed. "Now you're talking." It wasn't exactly an apology, but coming from his mother it was darn close. He walked over to ma.s.sage her shoulders. "Having someone else to care for can't be so bad, can it? Think of this-she comes with a ready-made granddaughter."

She perked up immediately. "That's true...."

"And before you ask, she's the sweetest thing ever."

"I know Alexa. She went to my elementary school."

"There you go."

"We didn't have much interaction, but she seemed like a nice girl. A pretty one, too."

He could tell she was sifting through all the possibilities. "She's both," he agreed.

"But...if Sophia doesn't have any money, Alexa can't be getting much for Christmas."

Ted purposely didn't mention that he intended to take care of that. His mother needed to be needed, and he was glad to let her focus on someone else for a change, someone who would enjoy the attention far more. "That's true. And there's not much time. Christmas is only four days away."

"I'll go back to the mall tomorrow," she said, suddenly energized as she collected her purse. "What kinds of things does she like?"

Chuckling, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. "You're leaving?"

"I know when I'm beat." She managed a wry smile. "Go after your girl."

"You're not going to apologize to her?"

"I'll have to work up to that," she said.

When headlights crested the hill behind her, Sophia ducked into the weeds at the side of the road, so whoever was driving wouldn't see her. It was cold out-windy and dark, too-but she needed to get off by herself so she could think. And since she hadn't been able to buy a car earlier, she had no choice except to walk.

Ted's mother pa.s.sed her once. Ted pa.s.sed her twice. She recognized the Lexus. He'd tried phoning her several times, too.

When his calls and texts came in, she'd stare down at her cell phone, think about what they'd shared in his living room tonight and wish her life was less complicated. But she wasn't ready to talk to him. His last text said he was worried about her, so she texted him back that she was fine. Then she shoved the phone in her pocket and kept trudging toward town.

When she spotted the Gas-N-Go, with its Christmas lights and plastic sleigh on the roof, complete with waving Santa, she thought of the liquor store only a block away, but she didn't turn in that direction. She circled wide to avoid even getting close and trudged up the hill to her old house.

It'd taken over an hour to walk this far, but the solitude helped her focus. She had to come to grips with all the sudden reversals in her life. During the past few weeks, she'd felt like a phoenix, rising out of the ashes. She'd begun to feel stronger, to feel some pride in her accomplishments and some hope for the future, which was why she was so afraid of what she'd done tonight. Getting involved with Ted might just destroy her again.

Once she reached the top, she kicked a pebble as she walked. Even from a distance, the house looked empty, soulless. She'd never particularly appreciated Skip's taste in architecture or furnis.h.i.+ngs. He'd insisted on overdoing everything, making it too big or lavish or ornate. She preferred design that was cla.s.sic, understated. But seeing the state of the house made her sad all the same. Since she'd moved out, the yard had become overrun by weeds, several more windows had been broken and graffiti covered the porch.

"Look what you caused," she muttered to Skip. She was still angry with him, didn't know how long it would take to get over that. Maybe she never would. He'd stolen so much from her-fourteen years of her life, her sense of security, her self-esteem, even her front tooth.

But he was gone now. Their daughter was hers alone. And the future could be anything she had the courage to create.

So what did she want it to be? What risks was she willing to take?

Was Ted one of them?

She wanted him to be. Just looking at him made her happy. She couldn't imagine loving any man more than she loved him. But that meant putting her heart on the line and risking her daughter's heart, too. It also meant facing down the people of Whiskey Creek and his mother, easily the sternest school administrator she'd ever encountered. Could she do all of that while she was trying so hard just to survive?

Wouldn't she be crazy to make the attempt?

Restless, she wandered around the property. She didn't want to go inside. The utilities had been turned off, so she wouldn't be able to see anything, and she didn't know what she might find. The bank hadn't taken it back yet. That process took several months, leaving the house vulnerable while it sat empty. Some homeless person might've moved in. At least if she stayed outside, she could run if she needed to.

She meandered down the drive, kicking that pebble again, and opened the mailbox as she had so many times over the years. She hadn't really expected to find anything inside, but there was a stack of mail. The dates indicated that these letters had arrived after Skip's business had been "frozen" by the government and before she'd moved to Ted's. When they packed up, she hadn't even thought to check the box. All she got were bills anyway and she didn't have the money to pay them.

Sure enough. These were bills, too. And turn-off notices. There was a letter from the IRS that looked ominous. No telling what Skip had done with his income taxes. She didn't dare open it. Making a mental note to bring it to her bankruptcy attorney, she continued to sort through the envelopes. She was about to stuff all of it in her purse when she came across a letter that seemed different. According to the return address, it came from S. Hoover Fine Jewelry in Sacramento.

"What's this?"

She opened it and as she read, she felt her jaw sag.

Dear Mr. DeBussi, Enclosed, please find the appraisal of your ring. The diamond is nearly flawless, one of the most perfect I've ever examined, especially for a stone its size.

As you requested, I have been in touch with several of my contacts and have found someone who is interested in purchasing it. They are coming in with an offer $30,000 below appraisal, but you mentioned you were in a hurry and they have cash.

Please let me know if you would like to pick up the ring or proceed with the sale.

Sincerely, Sam Hoover Numb with shock, Sophia stumbled back to the porch and sank down on the step. Her wedding ring. Skip hadn't absconded with the money. She had no doubt he would have, given the opportunity, but this letter suggested he hadn't been able to liquidate it fast enough.

Had Sam Hoover, the man who'd signed this letter, seen the news and recognized Skip's name? Did he know about the probe? Had he contacted the FBI?

Or did he still have the ring-and the buyer?

31.

Ted was relieved when he found Sophia. She looked like a lost little girl sitting on the front steps of her old home. The jagged edges of the broken windows winked in the moonlight, the yard was filled with weeds and frost-covered gra.s.s, and the word b.i.t.c.h was spray-painted behind her. The picture she made spoke volumes about the destruction Skip had wrought.

It was tragic-but as far as Ted was concerned, Skip had done him a favor. If things had gone any differently, if Skip and Sophia had merely divorced, maybe he and Sophia wouldn't have discovered each other again. Sophia's desperate circ.u.mstances were what had brought her back into his life, stripped away her pretenses and erased his resentment. Now he liked her even more than when they'd dated in the past. There was a humility born of struggle about her. The excitement she showed over her improved typing speed, for instance, made him smile every time he thought of it-especially when he remembered how badly she'd bombed on her first test. She'd used her improvement on a keyboard to prove her value to his mother, which showed that she was taking real pride in it. He was proud of her for trying and for planning to continue her progress.

Simply put, he loved her. Probably too much. He was willing to dive back into the relations.h.i.+p despite what lay ahead. He just hoped he wasn't making his move too soon. Things were happening fast, but he didn't know how to slow them down. It didn't feel as if they were starting over; it felt as if they were picking up where they'd left off.

As he drove down the street, he saw her drop something in her purse. Then she got up and walked out to the car, as though she'd been waiting for him to pick her up.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?" she replied.

"That paper you stuck in your purse. A notice posted by the bank?"

"No, just some mail that was left in the box. More bills, of course."

"Don't tell me you walked all the way over here to get the mail."

"No, I needed time to myself, needed to meditate on some things."

He slung his arm over the steering wheel and bent lower, so that it was easier to see her. "Before you meditate too much, I'm sorry about what happened at the house."

"It was your mother, not you."

"Still, I feel like I set you up."

"You did sort of set me up," she agreed, but she was smiling when she said it. He knew she was teasing.

"But I didn't mean to! That's the part you have to remember. Anyway, she's going to apologize."

"What'd you threaten her with?"

"Just the fact that I'll never speak to her again if she doesn't."

"You pulled out the big guns, huh?"

He shrugged. "I was willing to use whatever I had to. I wasn't going to lose that fight. Shall we drive over to her place now-drag her out of bed? Would that be sufficient revenge?"

"No way," she said. "We're not even going over there during the day. She doesn't need to apologize. That would be as agonizing for me as it would be for her."

"Then what else can she do to get back in your good graces? Because I'm insisting she do something."

"We can forget it ever happened."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"She'll be grateful for that option. By the way, it was nice of you to text and let me know you're okay. Most people who are really upset don't bother to do that."

"I didn't want to be rude."

There was more of that humility. He chuckled at her response. Even when she had the right to be angry, she was trying to be nice.

"What?" She'd been sincere in her response, hadn't expected him to laugh.

"Nothing," he said. "I'm just glad to find you here and not at the bar."

"I considered going to the liquor store."

"What made you decide not to do it?"

"I don't ever want to feel the way I felt about myself on Thanksgiving. Never again."

That strengthened his confidence in her ability to avoid alcohol in the future. "Good answer. I'm sure Madge and your AA group would be proud. I know I am. But I'm also tired. And I'm dying to curl up in bed with you. Please tell me you're ready to come home."

"My bed or yours?"

"I'm not picky. You choose."

"Okay. Count me in."

After she got her seat belt buckled, he reached over to examine her hands. She'd been digging at her cuticles again.

"Are you ever going to stop this?" he asked.