Or, maybe she didn’t even know all his lies yet. Maybe there were still things she hadn’t uncovered. More than the disastrous debt. The fact that he wasn’t working doing what he’d said he’d been doing. That three years earlier, he’d made a horrifically bad series of investments, compounded by risky day trading, that started driving them into a downward spiral of debt which he’d successfully concealed from Sarah.
That he’d told his family she was, in fact, the one who’d driven them into debt. That her mother-in-law didn’t believe her when she showed her the forms the credit card companies had faxed showing how he’d forged Sarah’s name on things.
The worst revelation of all, that her father had been right about Michael from day one, and she’d picked that slimeball over her family.
No, make that second-worst. The worst had been the fact that Jason had overheard Michael in a screaming match on the phone with someone, who turned out to be from the day trading company he was freelancing for part-time, and that argument had cost Michael his life and nearly killed Jason in the process.
Michael had told her he was a broker working at an investment firm. She’d been so busy raising Jason and running her own freelance graphic design business from home that she hadn’t had time or energy to figure out the truth.
That his company only rented office space at the legitimate investment firm’s building. And Michael was only a part-time independent contractor, not a full-time employee.
That the Mercedes, and the Volvo, had both been underwater and not paid off with cash like Michael had told her. At least the insurance paid off the Volvo.
And Jason’s medical bills, since the health insurance had been cancelled for non-payment three months earlier.
Another surprise piled on in her time of shock and grief.
When she’d dropped the Mercedes off at the dealership, along with the keys, she’d felt like throwing up.
That the house she thought they owned free and clear had not one, but two mortgages on it, taken out three and then two years earlier, respectively. Again, underwater.
That he’d barely been making the minimum payments on everything, while claiming they were doing fine and had plenty in savings.
That he’d been borrowing money from his mother and older brothers for years.
That he had stopped making payments on the life insurance policies over a year earlier, so she didn’t even have that money to make a dent in the debt she still had to sort through.
It had overwhelmed her then, and still overwhelmed her now. She’d had a few close friends, but two of them were friends with Michael and had basically disappeared when she asked them if they’d known about his mistress.
The others… Frankly, Sarah had felt so ashamed at being horribly taken in for so long that she’d withdrawn. They’d offered her moral support and one of them even offered to let her and Jason move into their spare bedroom, but she’d needed a clean break from New York.
The city she thought she’d escaped to to make something out of her life now felt like it was utterly mocking her. That she was worse off than she’d been when she’d arrived for college at the age of eighteen.
She also needed to put as much distance as she could between herself and Isabella and the rest of the d’Antonio clan.
Sarah’s only solace lay in returning to Florida. A place that, except for her wedding, was completely untainted by memories of Michael.
She sank below the water for a moment to wash the tears from her face. She wished she could purge the sound of Isabella’s accusing tone from her memory, basically blaming Sarah for the accident, saying Michael had been working hard to support her lazy self.
He hadn’t told them anything about her business, that she did work and made money. Which was a damn good thing, because she’d need every cent she earned from it and then some to even attempt to make a go of things.
She rested her head against the cool tile wall.
Despite Isabella demanding she and Jason move in with her, Sarah knew the only way she could make a new—and better—life for her and Jason was to go home.
New York was no longer “home.” It was a place full of lies and pain and bad memories. Well, good memories now tainted by rancid truths.
Move in with Isabella d’Antonio? The woman who not only helped Michael hide the extent of his lies from her, but enabled him, and then had the utter balls to invite Michael’s mistress—a mistress Sarah had no idea existed in the first place yet Michael had paraded around to his family—to the funeral?
Over my fucking dead body.
Now she sat geographically halfway between her old life…and her older life. What her new life would bring after returning to her childhood home had yet to be determined.
One thing she knew for certain—at least she knew what she was getting into by returning home. She would be in control of her destiny and not blindly rolling along in a little cloud of pleasant lies constructed by someone else.
Chapter Two
Sunday morning, Sarah had meant to awaken early and get Jason up and moving so they could be on the road by seven, but that didn’t happen. He was sitting up in bed and watching cartoons when she finally awoke a little before nine.
“I let you sleep, Mommy,” he said. “You looked tired.”
She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Thank you, kiddo.”
Sure enough, Isabella had left several texts and voice mails the day and night before. Sarah wanted to delete them, but her father had told her not to in case they needed them later.
She wasn’t sure why they might need them, but she listened to him. Unlike Michael, he’d never lied to her. And considering the way her father had immediately shown up after Michael’s accident, when she couldn’t even get in touch with Michael’s family, she knew she could count on him.
She damn sure wouldn’t ever question his rationales again.
Ever.
After sending her dad a quick text that they would be getting back on the road soon, she grabbed herself a shower to help loosen her stiff muscles before she got their stuff packed.
They made the free breakfast before it was shut down, meaning a few dollars she didn’t have to shell out, at least. She had to help Jase make his own waffles, but he was thrilled by the opportunity to stand watchdog over the waffle iron it while it cooked.
The smile on his face finally made her smile, for real this time.
After they checked out, she helped him up into the truck’s cab and spent a few minutes getting him situated so he was comfortable.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded before giving her a smile. “Will we get to Grandpa’s today?”
“Might be late tonight, but yes, we will.”
“Good.” He stared out the windshield. “I can’t wait to see his tractors.”
* * * *
They hit rain in South Carolina, a deluge so heavy that Sarah finally gave up and pulled over at an exit with a truck stop. While they sat in a booth at the restaurant and ate, she texted her father.
Rain. LOTS of rain. In SC. Stopped for lunch.
They’d agreed after he returned to Florida to keep the phone calls brief, especially when she was in front of Jason.
She wanted to burst into tears every time she heard his comforting voice.
Until she could get past that, texting was best. Because she rarely let Jason out of her sight.
A few minutes later, he texted her back, which was a miracle in and of itself. Not to mention when he did return her texts, they were usually very brief, one-word replies.
Not this one.
Please be careful. I want you both home in one piece. :)
Her hand flew to her mouth as she let out a laugh. She didn’t realize she’d started crying until Jason spoke up.
“Mommy, are you okay?”
She rubbed at her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, kiddo. Grandpa’s looking forward to us getting home.”
He cocked his head. “Are we liv
ing with Grandpa for good?”
She nodded. “I don’t plan on moving again anytime soon.” Not that I’d be able to afford it anyway.
But she didn’t say that part out loud. Jason was just a kid. A kid who’d lost his father, nearly died, and was being uprooted from the only home he’d ever known into a whole new world.
He damn sure didn’t need to know the sins of his father.
“Why didn’t we move in with Grandma Izzy?”
Sarah fought the way her stomach dangerously rolled. Then she forced another smile. “Because Grandpa is really lonely, kiddo. And he’s really worried about us.” She swallowed back another sob. “And,” she softly added, “I really miss Grandpa. I’m not so old that I won’t admit I need my daddy right now to help get us both through this.”
Jason looked solemn, wise, and aged beyond his years. At least the bruises on his face had healed. He nodded. “I just thought it was because you can’t stand Grandma Izzy.”
Her jaw must have dropped open as she stared at him. And here she thought she’d been extremely careful keeping her true opinion hidden.
Before she could stumble her way through some sort of a response, he cocked his head at her again. “Mom, she invited that lady to the funeral. That friend of Dad’s.” He let out a snort that also sounded years older than his little body. “I heard Uncle Roger talking about it on his phone. He thought I was asleep.”
Her mouth flapped open and closed again. She had no response.
That was all right, apparently, because Jason wasn’t done. “I didn’t like that lady. Dad let me meet her once a couple of months ago. At Grandma Izzy’s. Uncle Roger didn’t like her, either.”
Rage that her cheating husband had introduced their son to his mistress, at his own mother’s house, had to take a backseat until she could process it later. “Who was Uncle Roger talking to on the phone, do you know?”
“Aunt Barb.” He took a bite of his sandwich and slowly chewed before swallowing. “I think they were both mad at Grandma from the way he was talking.”
Well, isn’t that news?
Sarah wasn’t very close to any of Michael’s three older brothers, but Roger and his wife, Barb, had, at least, been the kindest to her during their marriage. And to her knowledge, Roger hadn’t loaned Michael any money.
The truth hit her between the eyes. Now she understood why Michael always seemed angry at Roger for something or another, even though he’d never outright tell her why.
I’ll have to call Roger when I get settled and have a heart-to-heart talk with him.
* * * *
Between lunch, topping off the hungry truck’s humongous gas tank, and buying Jason some souvenirs from South Carolina, they were down another $314 by the time they left the truck stop nearly an hour later once the rain eased up enough she felt comfortable driving.
And she’d received two more angry texts from Isabella.
Screw that witch. Sideways, with a rusty garden rake.
She owed Isabella d’Antonio nothing. Not a damn thing. Especially when Sarah had done nothing but try to be nice to the witch from day one while she was married to Michael.
And from day one, Isabella had made it perfectly clear to Sarah that she believed her son could not only do better, but that Sarah was barely one step up from trailer trash.
Hell, once Sarah got to Florida, she would change her phone number and not give it to the woman.
That’ll teach her. Although it wouldn’t stop the woman from calling her dad’s house because that number had been the same since she was a kid.
The rain plagued them from South Carolina through Georgia. By the time she reached Savannah, it was nearly four hours later and her nerves were shot.
Jason had, remarkably, stayed awake the entire time. He asked her questions about the landscape and unfamiliar species of trees. He’d never been on a road trip like this before.
Hell, he’d never been anywhere this rural before. Well, not counting when the three of them traveled to Florida for her mom’s funeral.
He’d barely been twelve months old then.
Another pang of remorse. She regretted letting Michael talk her into not visiting her parents as much as she wished she had. There was always an excuse. Too busy. Too expensive.
Isabella had already made plans for the family.
I can’t look back. She’d already spent enough time tripping over herself even though she hadn’t known it at the time.
She knew all she could do was look forward and do the best she could.
They stopped for gas and then pulled into a restaurant across the street to eat. A real, sit-down restaurant, with a real menu.
When she read the menu, she laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Jason asked.
“They have fried okra on the menu.” While she could buy okra in New York, the one and only time she’d tried to make it for Michael early in their relationship, he’d acted like she was trying to poison him.
Hence she’d never made it again.
“What’s that?”
“It’s really, really good.” She ordered herself a side dish of it, in addition to her food. If Jason liked it, she’d share it with him. If not…
I’ll finish it myself.
It surprised her how good it felt to actually order it.
How freeing.
How she could order what she wanted without feeling self-conscious about it, or without suffering little snarky comments from Michael, or his silent looks of derision even if he didn’t make a comment.
Holy crap.
The revelation stunned her. Had he really been that bad all these years? It was something she didn’t dare think about now. Not in front of Jason.
She’d file that tidbit away for later, once she was home and unpacked and could lock herself behind a bathroom door and cry while her dad kept an eye on Jason for her.
She knew she’d always struggled against that poor white trailer trash stereotype Isabella viewed her through—a view that was completely incorrect. Her mom and dad had raised her in an upper-middle-class home. In fact, the lakefront land her dad owned in Florida would make him a multimillionaire many times over in New York prices in equivalent real estate. He’d bought the twenty acres on a lake, and her parents had built a house there two years before her birth.
And he still owned it. Free and clear.
“Are you all right, Mom?”
She dragged herself out of her thoughts and stared at Jason. “I’m fine, sweetie.”
When their food arrived, she was pleasantly surprised to find the fried okra was homemade, not frozen, battered, pre-packaged fare.
Jason frowned. “Is that okra?”
She grabbed one and popped it into her mouth. Yep, it tasted great. “Yes. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”
He reached out with his good hand and took one. He stared at it for a moment before sniffing it. Then he tasted it. After slowly chewing, he smiled. “It’s good.”
The grin creasing her face felt real and easy. “That’s my boy.”
She actually ordered them a second helping of the okra, knowing they wouldn’t finish their other food. And she let him have dessert without finishing his cheeseburger.
Life was too short to grouse about things like that tonight. She could save those fights for later. For now, she wanted this trip to be if not fun for him, at least pleasant. Good memories.
She waited to text her dad until they returned to the truck and she had Jason situated. Despite it not being dark yet, she suspected with the full tummy he would soon fall asleep once they got underway.
Leaving Savannah now. Driving straight through.
Before she could put the phone back in her purse, he replied.
Swing over to I-10 at Jax and take I-75. I-95 closed north of Daytona for brush fire.
She smiled, fighting back happy tears again as she stared at the text. Her original plan had been to pick up I-4 and take it through Orlando and over
to Tampa. Daddy’s looking after us already.
She texted him back.
Txs Daddy.
Again, he quickly replied, as if sitting on the phone and awaiting her texts.
Love you.
Now these were texts she’d want to save for the rest of her life.
Love U 2 Daddy.
* * * *
As she’d predicted, despite it not being dark, Jason was asleep twenty minutes south of Savannah. She was glad he hadn’t needed any pain or anti-anxiety meds all day.
He seemed happier, as much as he could be under the circumstances. He hadn’t talked about Michael yet. His focus had been more on asking her questions about Florida and her father. Especially about the Gulf beaches and what Odessa, the small community just northwest of Tampa where she’d grown up, was like.
She didn’t stop again until just north of the Georgia-Florida border, where she knew gas would be less expensive. After waking Jason to get him out to stretch his legs and use the bathroom, and getting two cups of coffee for herself, they hit the road again.
She thought Jason might stay awake for a little while, but he was asleep well before she even hit the loop taking her to I-10 west, where she’d pick up I-75 for the final leg south.
The Welcome to Florida sign at the state line had been a comforting sight. She definitely didn’t plan to leave the state again anytime soon. Well, her dad had warned her she’d likely have to go back to New York for a probate hearing, but considering they really didn’t own anything of value any longer, it would just be a formality.
It was close to midnight when she took the SR 54 exit and headed west.
Almost home.
Twenty minutes later, she slowed to turn onto Gunn Highway before reaching the turnoff to the road to her dad’s house.
When she pulled up to the driveway, she had to stop and stare. While the gate, which he’d left open for her, and the fence looked nearly the same, neat rows of pine saplings nearly ten feet tall were growing in the front half of the pasture, illuminated by the headlights.
She remembered her mom talking about how they needed to get the trees, having them put in to ensure their property kept their agricultural exemption for the taxes following the loss of their orange grove due to citrus canker and freezes.