Roxanne Claire - Barefoot by the Sea

“Yeah. So, she had me and promptly returned to work, and her affair, which lasted for another sixteen years.”

“Seriously?” He lifted his head as if he hadn’t heard that right. “He was married the entire time?”

“Oh, yes. Married, with children.”

“Did you know he was your father?”

That was probably the thing that hurt the most. “No. When I was old enough to understand, my mother told me I was an accident, the result of a one-night stand whose name she didn’t know.”

“Did that other lawyer know you were his?”

“Uncle Ken? Of course he did.” Another aspect of her screwy life that always irked. “And I knew him quite well, only I never had any idea he was my father. When I was about five, they started their own firm, Donnelly & Galloway, and it was hugely successful. My mother was the quintessential workaholic, putting in long days and”—she gave a dry smile—“lots of out-of-town trials that she and her partner handled together.”

“Who raised you?”

“Nannies when I was little, then I pretty much learned to fend for myself.” She’d been the original latch-key kid.

“How did you find out he was your dad?”

“He died and she was…” She shook her head, remembering the dark, dark days of her mother’s grief. “Devastated would be an understatement. That’s when she told me, in the throes of her grief.” Damn it, her voice cracked.

Instantly, he was up on one elbow and his grip around her waist tightened. “That must have been rough.”

“I think the hardest part was I had a father and didn’t know it. No, no, the hardest part was I shared him with another family and my mother…” The lump in her throat made it hurt to swallow, even to get air. “No, it was all hard. Including the fact that my mother was willing to settle for second best and live a lie. And, of course, she kept that secret from me and from the world. To this day, his family doesn’t know.”

For a long time, John stayed quiet and still. She waited for a reaction, a question, some sympathy. But he didn’t say a word.

“Anyway, she’s fine,” Tessa said, as if he’d asked. “Still runs the law firm, still works long hours.”

“Only now she’s alone.”

So very much alone. “We talk, but not often. Mostly by e-mail. She came to see me when Billy left me, and it only made things worse.” She snorted softly. “Like she was a good role model for marriage.”

“And the fact that she didn’t tell you about your father is why you hate secrets,” he stated, as if he’d snapped the last piece of a puzzle into place.

True enough. But was that the reason she’d shared this one? So he knew that about her? Because something about this man, this night, this…possibility…had taken down a wall she’d always kept up.

If he was going to push this to the next step, then so was she.

“That’s why…” Her voice trailed off as she struggled with the admission. “I want a child so much. I think the worst way you can end up in the world is alone. And, honestly, I’m headed right there.”

“Your mother had a child and she’s still alone.”

“I’ll do better,” she said without hesitation. “I learned from her mistakes.”

He nodded, considering that.

“Aren’t you afraid of being alone, John?” she whispered, fighting the urge to touch his face to punctuate the question.

“No. I’ve been alone for a while—no.”

So he hadn’t always been alone. “You know what I think?” She lost the battle and grazed his whiskered cheek with her fingertips.

He didn’t answer, but slowly closed his eyes.

“I think”—she turned onto her side, facing him—“that there is much more to you than brawn and good looks.”

Still, silence.

“I saw it in your eyes the very first night we met. Something deep, something real, something…pained.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as if he couldn’t take the words. Or didn’t want her to see that pain.

“Will you share?”

His only response was to angle his head down, as if he couldn’t face her, even with his eyes closed.

She’d shared her deepest and darkest. Wouldn’t he?

He finally looked into her eyes. “No.”

There was more, and he didn’t deny it. But he wouldn’t share. And, really, that told her all she needed to know about how “real” this was.

He let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Can’t or won’t? Either way, it hurt.

This time, nothing would stop her. Tessa waited until late afternoon the next day, when it cooled down a bit, kneeling in the soil behind her tractor, threading the three-point hitch. The vines would be cut come hell or high water. Plus, a good long ride could clear the confusion of—

“Hey, Aunt Tessa! Whatchya doin’?”

Or not. With a nearly silent grunt of frustration, she turned, smiling at Ashley as the girl loped over a row of English peas, her long stride surprisingly easy and fast considering that her jeans had been sprayed on.

Tessa wouldn’t demand to know what was going on, but any opportunity to talk could only help Ashley. She hoped.

Standing straight, Tessa took a moment to watch the younger woman approach, a deep-seated love swelling inside her. Ashley hadn’t been the easiest child to raise—and still wasn’t—but Lacey, a single mother for every minute of the first fifteen years of her daughter’s life, had done a remarkable job.

“I’m harvesting sweet potatoes,” Tessa called back. “Want to help?”

Ashley made a face, then brightened. “I’ll drive the tractor!”

“Not a chance.” The soil was soft and, despite the fact that she used a fairly small gardening tractor, it was top-heavy and required a deft touch and experienced driver.

Ashley’s expression fell again. “Can we talk before you start?” she asked as she got closer.

“Of course,” Tessa answered without a second’s hesitation. She stood, yanking off her oversized gardening gloves. “I always have time for you.”

Ashley gave a dry smile. “Good thing, since Mom is MIA.”

“Ash, come on. She’s running a business.”

“She’s at the pediatrician.”

Tessa drew back. “Is Elijah sick?”

“No, he needs some shot thing. I don’t know. Clay’s with her and they left me a note on the kitchen counter. Not a soul in sight.” She sounded defeated, and Tessa immediately wanted to defend her friend, in spite of the age-old resentment that rose.

“Well, you’re seventeen, Ash. It’s not like you’re coming home from kindergarten to an empty house.” Though Tessa knew that feeling, too.

Ashley leaned against the tractor, looking over Tessa’s shoulder. “You know, I’m a little sick of it. It’s annoying to always come in second. Or third.”

“Did you come all the way out here to complain about your mom?” Tessa asked gently. “’Cause if you did, I will make you dig in the dirt.”

“No, I just want to talk to somebody.” Kicking the soil with a bright-green Converse sneaker, she kept her eyes cast down. “Did you decide what to do about, you know, telling my mom about Marc?”

“I’m still thinking about it,” she said, remembering John’s sage advice to keep the lines of communication open.

“What are you thinking about?” Ashley asked.

Nothing but myself and my own crush. “Well, are you still seeing him?”

“Uh, yeah.” She choked softly on the word. “Was with him all last night.”

“All last night?”

“No, but until one in the morning. We were out on the beach.”

So she hadn’t been the only one kissing under the stars last night. Except—had Ashley stopped things the same way Tessa had? How could she find out without prying too far into Ashley’s privacy?

“You were out until one on a school night?”

Ashley let out a sharp laugh. “Aunt Tessa, I’m almost in college.”

“You’re a junior in high school,” Tessa said quickly. “What did your mom say when you got home that late?”

She shrugged. “She was crashed. I guess Elijah had a feeding at midnight and Mom grabs every minute of sleep she can.”

“Clay didn’t hear you come in?”

Another shrug, then a guilty look. “I told him I was at my friend Kaylee’s house.”

Tessa closed her eyes. “Ashley, you can’t lie and sneak around. I won’t help you do that and you know it.”

“I know. I…” She let out a little moan and shivered. “Oh, God.”

Oh, God, what? “What does that mean?”

She hugged herself and gave up a rapturous look. “I really, really, really like him and it has me all crazy inside, you know?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tessa said with a dry laugh. “I know.”

“See?” Ashley nudged her. “Hard to say no to a little of the good thing.”

“The good thing?”

“That’s what Marcus calls it.”

Which said a lot about his feelings regarding sex. Tessa leaned on the hitch, trying to decide what to say. “Look, you’re not a child, and I know kids at seventeen have sex.”

“A lot of them do,” Ashley said. “Like, half my friends lost their virginity last year.”

Tessa cringed. “But is that the right thing to do? I mean, it feels like fun in the moment, but what about when he never calls again and you’ve given him that part of yourself? What about disease and pregnancy and self-respect?”

She expected an argument, but Ashley just looked at her. “I know, Aunt Tess. I’m careful.”

“I’m carefuling,” Tessa said with a smile.

“What?”

The memory teased. “When you were little, we were at the beach with you and your mom kept saying ‘Be careful, Ash’ when you went in too deep, and you turned around and said, ‘I’m carefuling.’ You know, you’re still that baby to me and your mom, Ash.”