When he knelt down in front of her and gently tried to tell her what it all meant, she’d shook her head and cried, unable to process it.
Over the next couple of days she’d ignored everything except her bodily needs, Jason, and her father as she processed things and he walked her through whatever he thought had to be done.
The morning of the night her father was to fly home six days earlier, he’d gone to the bank with her so she could sign over the quit-claim deed on the house to the first mortgager.
She’d followed her father’s advice to drain the joint checking account immediately, before any creditors could freeze it.
There was only $807 in it.
It turned out the only entity she wasn’t in debt to was the IRS. Michael had religiously filed and paid their taxes.
Her father had rented the moving truck for her, putting the deposit on his credit card and buying the boxes and packing supplies for her. He’d never asked if she wanted to leave New York.
It had been a silent, loving command, a given that she and Jason would be moving in with him in Florida. He’d only asked if she thought she could drive the truck, or if she’d need him to fly back up to take care of it for her.
It had been a long time since she’d driven her dad’s pick-up truck, but she knew it wasn’t fair to keep him from his life. She’d manage, somehow.
And it was something she needed to do for closure. To leave New York with at least a little of her dignity intact.
She only took a couple of pieces of furniture, and Jason’s bedroom furniture. Some friends helped her pack everything she was going to take into the truck. Then she held an estate sale for everything else, and they left Long Island behind them for good.
She got out, dried off, and threw on a T-shirt to sleep in. As she turned off the bathroom light and headed toward her bedroom, a sense of peace settled over her. For the first time since this nightmare began, she began to truly relax as her body recognized and remembered the peace, love, and security of where she now lived…again.
Home.
Chapter Four
Sarah awoke sore and disoriented Monday morning. From the sunlight working its way through the slanted blinds, she knew it was at least eight o’clock.
Am I late for school?
As sleep fled her system and she got her bearings, she actually managed a laugh.
Nope, no school. Not for her anymore, at least.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Yep, the clock on the bedside table read 8:12, and she heard voices somewhere out in the house.
She’d slept in a T-shirt. Pulling on shorts, she used the bathroom before walking out to the kitchen. The heavenly aroma of coffee filled the room. Jason sat at the breakfast counter, while her dad regaled him with a fish story.
Her son smiled when he saw her. “Mom! Guess what Grandpa was telling me?”
Smiling finally felt easy and natural again. “I can only guess it’s a whale of a tale.” She walked around the counter and kissed the top of his head. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.” He pointed at her dad. “Grandpa was about to make French toast for us.”
She walked over and hugged her dad, lingering for a moment. “Thank you, Dad,” she whispered against his chest. “For everything.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Hey, sweetheart, we’re a family, aren’t we?” He tipped her chin so she had to look up at him. He wore a solemn expression. “Heckmans first—”
“To heck with the rest,” she completed with a laugh.
He grinned and hugged her again before releasing her. “And don’t you forget it, little girl.”
“I won’t. Never again.”
She helped her dad make breakfast. When she opened the fridge to get milk and eggs, she noticed several cartons of eggs in the bottom of the fridge.
“Use the ones in the door,” he said. She was going to ask him about all the eggs, but then Jason distracted her with a question and she forgot about it.
As they were cooking, Jason also said, “You didn’t tell me Grandpa had a big pool, Mom.”
She laughed as she turned to look at him. He’d almost had an accusatory tone in his voice, like she’d been holding out on him. “Sorry, sweetie. I didn’t realize that was important. I did tell you he had a pool.”
“I thought you meant one of those little dinky ones like Grandma Izzy has.” Sarah tried not to bristle at the mention of Isabella’s name. He continued, undaunted and full of more energy than she’d seen him possess since he’d left the hospital. “When can we unload my stuff?”
“Uh, Grandpa and I will unload the truck. You will keep your butt parked in front of the TV.” She pointed at his blue cast. “You don’t need to be trying to lift stuff.”
“But I want to help.”
“You can help once we get the stuff off the truck and inside. You can tell us where you want your furniture, and I’ll let you unpack your toys and clothes from the boxes. But you don’t want to pull your stitches, either.”
He frowned, but nodded. “Okay.” Like a Florida sunshower, his face immediately brightened. “Grandpa said I have cousins down here. When can I meet them?”
She looked at her dad. “How long has he been up that you two talked so much?”
“I got up a little after six, and he got up around seven.”
“I already know where I want my stuff, Mom. You didn’t tell me my room would be bigger here, either. Grandpa’s whole house is bigger than hers.”
Her dad grinned and bumped her with his hip. When she met his gaze, he winked.
She winked back. She didn’t need to be able to read his mind to know he was likely thinking the same thing she was.
Grandma Izzy can suck it.
* * * *
With a delicious breakfast inside them, Sarah and her dad headed out to the truck. She’d finally relented and said Jason could stay outside with them as long as he promised to keep out of the way and not lift any boxes.
Her dad moved his truck out of the carport, then took the U-Haul keys and backed the box truck up to the carport for them to unload. She’d loaded all of Jason’s stuff last, except for her computers, monitor, and peripherals, which she’d already moved into her room to keep out of harm’s way.
She wanted Jason’s room put together as soon as possible so his life could get back to normal.
“Hey, buddy?” her dad said to him. “Go deflate that air mattress for me, okay? The plug is up by the head of it, where your pillows are. And fold the sheets.”
“Okay.” He raced to go do it.
“He’s not going to be able to fold the sheets with a cast, Dad.”
He shrugged. “He can try. And it’ll keep him busy.” He cleared his throat. “I have your phone, by the way. You’d left it on the counter last night. I put it on a charger in my den.”
Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted to ask. “How many?”
“Only two texts from her so far this morning. No calls as of yet.” He let out a deep breath. “I’m going to get you a new phone, and no arguing. And you are not allowed to give her, or anyone else who might give it to her, your new number. She can call the house and I’ll talk to her. All right?”
“Thank you.” She hugged him. “No arguing. I promise.”
When she had to take a break, she headed to the bathroom and wasn’t sure what was different at first.
Then she realized what she hadn’t noticed when she first got up. The counter had been tidied up. Apparently her dad had put everything away for her. Her heart pounded until she opened the cabinet under the sink and saw the box of tampons. With a smile, she reached in and grabbed it, letting out a scream when she opened it.
The money was gone.
“Dad!” she went running into the hallway. “Dad!”
He stepped into the hall. “What?”
She held up the box.
He laughed. “Don’t panic. I put it in the gun safe.”
She leaned against the wall as a wave of
relief washed over her.
He walked down the hall to her, a smile on his face. “Sorry, honey, but no matter how good a hiding spot that was, it’s not a bank or a safe.”
“Why did you even look inside the box?”
“Oh, please. I bought tampons for your momma all the time before she hit menopause. It’s no big deal. It was an opened box. When I was putting stuff away, I noticed it felt a lot heavier than it should have. I looked. So shoot me.” He patted the top of her head like she was a kid. “But that was smart thinking, little girl.”
“Gee, thanks.” Still, she smiled.
* * * *
By the time they were ready to break for lunch, they had the entire contents of the truck unloaded into the carport, with Jason’s furniture placed where he wanted it in his room and half of his boxes either in his room or lining the hallway walls. When she’d packed in New York, Sarah had taken the time to weed through clothes that didn’t fit him anymore, or wouldn’t fit him by the time he needed to wear them next—like heavy winter clothes—and had sold them in the estate sale.
He’d proudly helped her go through his toys, too, sorting through ones he didn’t want or play with anymore, and donated them to the sales effort.
She refused to make him part with anything he didn’t want to, or that he wasn’t sure about. The truck was large enough she could take everything in his room, if he wanted, with plenty of room to spare.
Lucky for her, he hadn’t wanted everything.
But after Jason had lunch and his antibiotics, which he’d still be on for several days, he lay down on the couch and fell asleep.
She stared at him, watching him sleep and feeling lucky she got the chance to do just that.
“Want to walk down the driveway with me and get the paper? I never did go get it this morning. Mail’s probably here, too.”
“Sure. I could use a break.”
* * * *
Sarah followed him out the front door and down the driveway. Then her feet came to a halt all on their own as she stared out into the southern pasture. “Since when do you have a cow?”
“Oh, that’s Big Mac.”
“Big Mac?”
“Yeah.”
As she stared, the huge, golden brown beast realized she was looking at him and began slowly ambling their way, slobbery nose and all.
Horns over a foot long gracefully curved away from its skull on either side.
Stuck on the tip of the left one was a yellow tennis ball.
“You’re not going to…butcher him or anything, will you?” she nervously asked. She desperately didn’t want Jason to grow attached to it, and he would, just to have to break it to him that it was going in the freezer.
He let out a snort. “Hell, no. He’s old. Nearly nine. He was your momma’s pet. I’d started out thinking we were going to fatten him up and have him butchered, but I just couldn’t do it.”
“Because he was Mom’s pet…cow?” Her mother had never mentioned having a pet cow that she could remember. She also didn’t remember seeing it when she’d come down for the…
She cut off that thinking.
“No, because she went and named the damn thing. How am I supposed to eat something she named?”
“But…” Her brain hurt. “But she named it after a fast-food sandwich?”
“Yeah. Your mother had a really mean, twisted sense of humor sometimes. She was trying to get me to cut back on my burgers.”
She gave up trying to process that. “Okay, that’s all good, but he still has a tennis ball stuck on his horn.”
“It’s not stuck.”
Sarah blinked a few times before looking at her father. He wore a totally deadpan expression.
“What?”
“I said, it’s not stuck.”
“What do you mean it’s not stuck? I’m looking right at it, Dad. It’s stuck on his horn.”
“It’s not stuck. He’s missing one.”
More time needed to process that tidbit. She turned back to him. “What?”
“I said, he’s missing one.”
She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples and forehead. “Okay, Dad. Let’s start over. Why do you put tennis balls on the cow’s horns?”
“Well, just one would look silly now, wouldn’t it?”
She stared at him. “What?”
“I put two on. Matched set. I stick them on with Gorilla Glue. He usually manages to rub one or both off after a while. I have more in the shed. I go over and buy them in bulk from a guy at the flea market. I have all different colors. Sometimes, I would put two different colors on him, just to aggravate your momma.”
He sadly smiled as he reached through the fence and scratched the cow between the eyes. “So now I always make sure the colors match.”
Maybe he had Alzheimer’s and she’d somehow missed that. It had been a long time since they’d spent time together. And she was so out of it while he was in New York that he could have been walking around naked with a tin foil hat and she might not have noticed it.
“Dad. Focus. Why do you put tennis balls on the cow’s horns?”
“To keep him from poking the crap out of me or anything else. You don’t chop off a cow’s horns. It’s like ripping off your damn toe. And he’s not a cow, he’s a steer. You’re going to hurt his feelings.”
“I’ve got a hot news flash for you. If he can tolerate you sticking tennis balls on his horns for the past nine years, then he doesn’t have any feelings.”
“Well now, that’s just a plain mean thing to say, isn’t it?” The beast tipped his head toward her father and closed his eyes as he scratched his muzzle.
She closed her eyes and counted to ten again before opening them. “Why didn’t I see him when I was here the…last time?” She couldn’t bring herself to say “for Mom’s funeral” out loud.
“He was next door, at the Hopes’ place. They borrow him and the goats from time to time to graze.”
“Goat?”
“Goats. Plural.” He started to walk away and she turned to follow him.
“Goats, as in more than one?” She scurried behind him.
“Well, plural is how you normally refer to more than one goat, isn’t it?”
“Why do you have goats?”
“To keep the pigs company. And Big Mac. He likes them. Plus they’re great for keeping the weeds down in the pasture.”
He kept walking while she came to a standstill again. He realized she wasn’t following him and turned. “What?” he asked.
“Pigs?”
“Pigs.”
She finally started toward him again. “Anything else I need to know about?”
“Well, there’s the chickens.”
She felt like she’d stepped into a bad SNL skit. “Chickens?”
“Chickens. Didn’t you notice all the fresh eggs in the fridge?”
“Well, I did notice you had a lot of eggs in the fridge.”
“I give them away, mostly. Man can only eat so many eggs.”
“Oh. Well, of course.”
He smiled. “You look stunned.”
“Are we eating the pigs?”
“No. Bacon and Hammy were—”
“Mom’s pets,” she finished for him.
He smiled. “Yep. We’d just got them a few weeks earlier when she…”
His smile faded and he jammed his hands in his pockets. “We were going to raise a new pair every year. She wasn’t as attached to them as she was Big Mac. But I just couldn’t do it.” He shrugged. “She’d named them.”
“So why didn’t I see the pigs when I was here?”
“They were out in the pen behind the barn. I don’t think you went out there.”
No, she hadn’t. “And the chickens? Not eating them, are we?”
“Oh, those are new. I just got them about a year and a half ago. And no, only the eggs.”
“I didn’t hear a rooster crowing this morning.”
“I kept everyone penned up last night so
he wouldn’t crow and wake you and Jason this morning.”
“You’ve been busy.”
He shrugged. “They keep me company.”
They continued their walk down to the front gate. When they reached it, she looked to the north, to their neighbor’s driveway. An older woman, maybe her dad’s age, emerged from the driveway and checked her mailbox.
He held up a hand and cackled. “Afternoon, you old bitch!”
She straightened and flipped him a bird. “Good afternoon, you fucking old bastard!” she hollered back.
Sarah wasn’t sure, but it sounded like the woman laughed. She was too far away to tell.
Mortified, Sarah stared at her dad. “Dad! What the hell are you doing?”
He grinned and flipped his neighbor off in return. “Eggs?”
She changed her bird to the V of two fingers.
He flashed her an okay signal in return. Like obnoxious senior citizen gang signs.
“Two dozen. I’ll bring ’em over shortly,” he called.
She waved and trudged back up her driveway.
He looked at Sarah. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. She likes it.”
“Who is that?”
“Betty Lazarra. Our neighbor. Nice broad.”
She’d never heard her dad call any woman a “broad.” “How long has she lived there?”
“Four years now, I guess it is. Widowed and retired. I give her eggs.” He grabbed his newspaper, checked the mailbox, and started up the driveway toward the house after closing the gate, leaving Sarah staring at his back.
What the everlovin’ hell?
Things certainly had changed a lot since she last lived at home.
After a slow shake of her head, she followed her father up the driveway.
Chapter Five
By two o’clock, Jason was still asleep on the couch and they’d emptied the carport. Fortunately, they didn’t have to return the truck until tomorrow.
She didn’t bother trying to unpack all her clothes. She simply shoved most of the boxes into the corner and into the closet. The three boxes of shorts, jeans, T-shirts, underwear, and bras that she’d need immediately in Florida she unpacked into the dresser she knew well.