Meant-to-Be Mum

Chapter Two

Her underwear dumped into the top drawer of her old dresser, Sabrina shoved it closed and sighed, missing Mom—who would have been right there with her, if not tucking things into drawers and hanging up stuff in the closet, at least sitting on the foot of the bed, listening, eyes soft with sympathy or bright with anger. Honestly—Sabrina zipped up the empty case and rammed it underneath the twin bed—more and more, her life felt like some artsy foreign film where bizarre crap kept happening but you had no idea why. And a happy ending was not a given. Chad used to drag her to those. And she’d go and pretend to enjoy them for his sake, but mostly she was just Huh?

Take the past twenty-four hours, for instance. As if having her future ripped from her in the space of a single conversation wasn’t bad enough, then to run into Cole Rayburn, of all people. After which they’d had this perfectly normal, totally weird conversation, as though nothing had happened.

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. There’d definitely been some heavy-duty skirting of the truth going on. Some people might call that civilized and mature. Because it was ancient history and all that. Except...this was Cole and her.

For whatever that was worth.

Which would be not a whole lot, Sabrina thought, starting downstairs. Dude obviously had his hands full. And, yes, that was her heart squeezing inside her chest, especially when she thought about his kids...

She released another breath. Only so much multitasking her poor brain could handle right now.

Through the open patio door, the scent of charbroiled meat floated in from the deck where Pop was grilling. Stalling, she got a diet soda out of the French-door fridge in the recently remodeled kitchen, all stainless steel and sparkly white quartz and cherrywood cabinets. Very pretty. Still, she missed the homeyness of the old seventies decor, the knotty pine and faux brick, the old gouged table where they’d eaten, done homework, spilled their guts to Mom. Even the kids who’d only been passing through.

The family room, however, she thought, popping the can’s tab as she peeked in the room, still bore the scars of having been a family room in every sense of the word. Probably one reason why the house was still on the market. The kitchen showed well, sure, but the rest of the house...not so much. Especially to buyers with no desire to take on a fixer-upper, even if most of the work was cosmetic. True, Pop had impulsively donated Mom’s vast, and eclectic, book collection to the library some months before. But since he hadn’t moved any further in that direction, Sabrina could only assume—since they’d never discussed it—that the action had paralyzed him instead of propelling him forward.

She tilted the can to her lips, remembering the beehive of activity this house had once been, of noisy meals and fights for the bathroom and never-ending chore lists, usually overseen by the man currently grilling their dinner. Now only an eerie stillness remained, a thousand memories whispering like ghosts every time Sabrina returned. For all she’d chomped at the bit to escape more than a decade before, seeing it this way—like a dying person halfway between this world and the next—made her very sad.

Sadder, anyway.

The can clutched to her chest, she finally went outside, smiling for her father.

“Smells great.”

Standing at the grill, Pop glanced over, then said, “All unpacked?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Good,” he said, not looking at her, and her eyes filled. Because all she wanted, she realized, was a hug.

Dumb.

She’d wondered sometimes, how, with their polar opposite natures, her parents had ever gotten together. Let alone enjoyed the kind of marriage that textbooks could point to and say, This. Mom had been the one who’d wrap Sabrina in her warm embrace, doing all the talking for both of them during those first few weeks after she and Matt had arrived and Sabrina wouldn’t, or couldn’t, find her words. The Colonel, however, hadn’t seemed to know what to do with the frightened little girl clinging to her grief like a tattered teddy bear. Oh, Sabrina eventually figured out that, despite his more reserved nature, Pop cared fiercely about every child in his care, that fostering had been his idea. There was no better man on earth. But sometimes Sabrina felt as if their initial interaction—or lack of one—had set the tone for their entire relationship.

That even after all these years, she still had no idea how to close the gap between them.

“Got some vegetable kebabs from the store to go with the burgers,” he said. “That okay?”

“Sure.”

Fragrant smoke billowed out when he lifted the lid to the grill, frowning again in her direction. “Sorry to spring Cole and the kids on you like that. If I’d known you were coming—”

“No, it’s okay. I should’ve warned you.”

Pop had known, of course, that things had fallen apart between her and Cole their senior year. Just not why. God willing, he never would.

“Always did like that boy,” Pop now said, flipping the burgers. “Missed him hanging around.”

“So you ran into him and invited him over.”

Shooting her another curious look, Pop closed the lid to the grill again. “For more than five years that kid was over here more than he was at his own house. Seemed like it, anyway. Invitation was out of my mouth before I even knew it was there.” He crossed his arms. “Couple of smart kids he’s got there.”

“So Cole said,” Sabrina said, walking to the edge of the deck jutting out into the large yard off the porch. Shards of dying, early evening sun sliced through the pine trees on one side of the yard, gilding the new grass and her mother’s prodigiously blooming rosebushes. A robin darted, stopped, darted again across the lawn, ignoring the chattering of an unseen squirrel nearby. Images flashed, of badminton and croquet games, of running through the sprinklers. That old Slip ’N Slide. Fireflies. Of lying in the grass on summer evenings, her and Cole and Kelly...

“You gonna go see the baby tonight?”

Releasing a breath, Sabrina turned, bracing her hands on the deck railing behind her and refusing to feel sorry for herself, that Matt was married and her younger brother, Tyler, was going to be in a week, that even her oldest brother, Ethan, had found love again after losing his wife three years ago. That things seemed to be working out fine for everyone but her.

Not that she hadn’t tried—

Okay, maybe that not-feeling-sorry-for-herself thing wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped.

“Tomorrow, maybe. It’ll be too late after dinner. They’ll be wanting to get the little one down, I imagine.”

Her father shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “So you gonna tell me what happened, or are we playing twenty questions?”

Sabrina smirked. “Wondered when you were going to ask.”

“Didn’t want to push.”

She held up her left hand, naked except for the imprint of the ring that had been there only yesterday. “Not that you haven’t already figured it out.”

“It was his boy, wasn’t it?”

Her vision blurred, Sabrina nodded. Chad didn’t have his six-year-old son very often—his ex had moved to the West Coast for work, and Robbie went with her—meaning the child wanted Daddy to himself when he did see him. Not that Sabrina blamed him.

“I couldn’t stand seeing the kid so miserable, Pop.”

“So you broke it off.”

“It was a mutual decision.”

“And the child was six. He would have gotten over it.”

From anyone else, her father’s words might have sounded callous. Uncaring. Except Sabrina knew the remark came from a place of deep love for kids. All kids. Which only made it harder to hear.

“You think I gave up.”

She nearly choked when her father walked over, wrapped her in his arms. For maybe two seconds, but still. Holy crap.

He let her go to return to the grill, scraping burgers on to a nearby plate before giving her a hard stare. “I wasn’t there, I have no idea what went on between you. But I know you,” he said, jabbing the spatula in her direction. “I know how good you are with kids. How crazy they are about you. So whatever was going on...” He lowered the lid again. “Not your fault.”

“Yeah, well, you also never liked Chad.”

“Only because I never felt he was worthy of you.”

“What? You never said that—”

“Didn’t have to, did I?”

“Chad’s a good man, Pop. Jeez, give me some credit.” He slanted a look in her direction, and her face warmed. “My point is, this wasn’t about me and Chad, it was about me and his little boy—”

“And that was his father’s issue to address, not yours. And if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do that...” His eyes narrowed. “Did he even try to fix the problem?”

“To be honest...” Her mouth twisted. “He looked...relieved.”

He jabbed the spatula at her again. Point made. “Sounds to me like he’s the one who gave up. You also have no idea what the kid’s mother was putting in his head about you.”

Actually, considering some of the things the child had said to her, she had a pretty good idea. But no need to add fuel to that fire.

Pop’s gaze softened. Marginally. “All I want is for you to be happy. Trust me, wouldn’t have happened for you with that guy. Not in the long run. Because eventually you would have lost out to the kid. Which you obviously knew, or you wouldn’t have ended it. Right?”

You know, there was a reason she’d left home. And not only because small-town Jersey was suffocating her. That the man spoke the truth—yet again—was beside the point.

Pop plated the kebabs, setting both them and the burgers on the table. “So I take it you’re staying for a while?”

“A few weeks, maybe,” Sabrina said, sitting across from him and spearing the smallest burger. “Until I...get my bearings again. That okay?”

“Like you have to ask. As long as I still have the house, anyway.” He glanced over again. “No bun?”

“Carbs, Pop.”

Shaking his head, he took a bite of his own burger, his gaze drifting out to the yard. Sabrina could probably guess what he was thinking. Or rather, who he was thinking about. Not looking at Pop, she slowly pulled off a piece of pineapple from her skewer and asked, “You ever think about dating again?”

After a long moment, she looked up to meet his glare. Bingo.

“And what would be the point of that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How’s about going to a movie or out to dinner with someone not related to you? Might be fun. You should try it.”

One side of his mouth pulled up. Sort of. “This you not wanting to whine about your own problems?”

“You bet. So?”

Her father took another bite of his burger. “Seems like it’d be more trouble than it’s worth. Especially at my age.”

“So what’re you going to do with the next twenty or thirty years, Methuselah? Watch TV all day?”

“And maybe after all those years of taking care of everybody else, all I want to do is watch TV.”

“Not buying it. Sorry.”

“I’m good with things the way they are, thank you. Once I get out of this house...”

His voice once more trailing off, Pop glanced around, almost as if he didn’t recognize the place, before facing Sabrina again...and she saw in his eyes the depth of his loss in a way she never had before, prompting her to lean over to lay her hand on his wrist. Pushing out a sigh, Pop covered her hand with his own.

“You know, I lost track of how many times we moved, when I was on active duty. The number of places we lived. Far as I was concerned they were only places to sleep, way stations between assignments. But this...” He looked around again. “This was home. Where we raised all you kids. I know I don’t need it anymore. Have known for some time. And I plunked down my deposit on a one-bedroom unit at Sunridge last month—”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Nobody does. Didn’t want you all hounding me.”

“Pop. You decided to sell. Months ago—”

“And at the time, I thought I was good with that decision. And in here,” he said, tapping his head, “I still am.” Then he palmed his heart. “In here is another story.”

“Which is why, I assume, you’re dragging your heels about giving the place a face-lift.”

“Jeannie picked out every paint color, every stick of furniture in the place. What somebody does with it after I’m gone is none of my concern. But as long as I’m still here, it’s my home. And damned if I’m going to spend whatever time I have left in the house feeling like I’m in somebody else’s.”

“So why’d you redo the kitchen?”

He huffed a breath through his nose. “Because even I had to admit it was falling apart. Half the drawers didn’t even close anymore. And the old range was down to two functioning burners. So I caved, let some kitchen designer convince me that an upgrade would add value to the house.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“Except I hate it. Looks like a damn showroom. Or a commercial kitchen. Not like someplace a family wants to hang out. Frankly, I’d change it all back if I could. Except they tell me you can’t even get those green appliances anymore.”

“And thank God for that,” Sabrina said, and her father humphed. “Pop...you need to make a decision here. A real one, I mean, not this half-assed thing. Otherwise you’re wasting both the Realtor’s time and yours. If you don’t want to sell, then don’t. I mean it,” she said at her father’s startled look. “Take the place off the market, tell Sunridge you changed your mind—”

“And forfeit my deposit?”

“If it comes down to that, yes. For heaven’s sake—for once in your life, go with your gut, not only your head. If it doesn’t feel right to leave, don’t. It’s your house, your life. Your right to reverse course. But don’t move forward with something only to save face, or because that’s what everyone’s expecting—”

Her gaze lowered, her uneaten food a blur. She felt her father’s touch on her wrist, as gentle-rough as his words. “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about me anymore?”

She jerked her hand away, even as she laughed. Hyenaesque though it may have been. Because she had seen the writing on the wall with Chad. Like neon-hued graffiti, actually. But in spite of the troubles with Robbie, she’d clung to the relationship for far longer than she should have. Because she was so, so tired of...

Of failing.

“Hey,” she said, smiling. “You’re the one who can’t decide whether to sell his house or not.”

But after she’d retreated once more to the room that still bore the scars of her youth—a hundred tiny pushpin pricks from long-gone posters, a red stain on the windowsill where a candle had melted and overflowed—the cold, hard truth came right with her, that she’d fallen into the very trap she’d sworn to avoid.

Of letting desperation make a fool of her.

Exactly like she had with Cole, all those years ago.

She hurled her old teddy bear across the room, where it bounced off the closet door with a pathetic little squeak.

* * *

“So Sabrina’s back?” Cole’s sister said, stretching plastic wrap over the leftover salad.

Yeah, he wondered how long it’d take before she brought up that particular subject. Figuring it best to jump the gun before the kids said something at dinner, he’d casually mentioned she’d been at the Colonel’s.

“Yep,” Cole said, warring with himself about having a second piece of chocolate cake. With caramel filling. Sitting there on the counter, taunting him like some barely clad sex kitten in an X-rated dream. Squelching a sigh, he looked back at Diana, while in the family room beyond, her youngest and Cole’s two were watching some zombie flick, the expressions on their faces not a whole lot different than the characters on the screen. “Visiting, or something. Had no idea she was going to be there. Or she, us. What’re the odds, right?”

“How is she?” Diana asked stiffly, and Cole smiled, even as he silently cussed out his brother-in-law for abandoning him to the she-wolf that was his sister. Some flimsy excuse about a crisis at his restaurant.

“Down, sis. That was a long time ago.”

Her eyes cut to his, then away again when she turned to grab the cake cover and rattle it over the plate, hiding temptation. “Just asking.”

Even though she’d been married and a mother already when it became obvious Bree was no longer a part of Cole’s life—having been the center of it for so long—it was Diana who’d seen through his lousy attempt at stoicism and realized her baby brother was hurting. Never mind that he’d brought most of the pain on himself.

“We talked, Di. Watched the kids play with the Colonel. That’s pretty much it. Hey,” he said to the mother of all skeptical looks, “you remember that dude you dated your senior year? What was his name?”

Di frowned for a minute, then said, “You mean Stuart? Gosh—I haven’t thought of him in years.”

“But back then you two were pretty tight, as I recall.”

He couldn’t tell if Di was more shocked or amused. “You were seven, for pity’s sake. How would you...?”

“I might’ve heard Mom and Dad talking. Sounding worried.” He shrugged, enjoying his sister’s blush. “So tell me—if you were to run into Stuart now, would you still feel anything?”

“What? No! Why would I?” Cole lifted an eyebrow, and his sister sighed. “One word—Andy. Who wiped all thoughts of other guys out of my head the minute I met him. Also, Stuart didn’t break my heart.”

“Bree didn’t—”

“Cole. Please. Memory like a steel trap.”

“Then how come you’re not remembering that I broke it off?”

“Damage control doesn’t count. And besides...” Her gaze gentled. “Then there was Erin.”

She stopped there. Thank God. Although there would have been a time when she wouldn’t have.

“Look,” he said, “we ran into each other, we talked, she’ll go back to New York and I’m here. With my kids.” He glanced into the family room. “Speaking of damage control.”

His sister leaned over to kiss him on top of his head. Like he was five, for God’s sake. Then she looked into the family room, her mouth curved down at the corners.

“How are they doing?” She turned back to him. “And before you answer, I’ve survived three teenagers. My BS detector is top-of-the-line.”

“You tell me. Since you watched them like a hawk all during dinner.”

“This can’t be easy on them, leaving Philly, their friends...”

“They’re cool with it, you guys are three houses away and it’s only for the summer.”

“And then?”

“Haven’t gotten that far.”

“So you’re not going back to Philly.”

Not if I can help it, he thought, then smiled for his concerned sister. “Keeping our options open for now. Di—it’s been a week. Give us a second, okay? Although I am thinking—if we stay here—of putting them in Sedgefield.”