Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)

  “He was killed.” She wanted that dried old branch gone, forever.

  “That’s a—”

  “Murdered.”

  Wanda’s hand lifted as she let out a slight gasp. “Oh my God, Pasha. That’s awful. I’m so sorry for you.”

  “It was awful.” But she had Evan now, and he was every bit as dear and precious as her son.

  “Don’t think about that,” Wanda said. “Think about that little boy climbing trees and drinking chocolate milk. And hold still for me, dear. Here comes the arm.”

  Pasha drifted off, vaguely aware of that humming again, in her head and in her heart.

  When Zoe arrived at the clinic she was braced to see Oliver, but a much younger version greeted her when she walked into Pasha’s room.

  “Hello, Evan,” she said when he looked up. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

  “My dad didn’t want to ask you to babysit since he figured you’d want to spend time here today.”

  A little bit of guilt zinged. She had offered to watch him and then done her disappearing act. Although Oliver hadn’t called her all morning, either. So they were both on eggshells.

  “Do you know where Pasha is?”

  “The nurse said she’s getting tests, then coming back here.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “Wanna play Rat Screws while we wait?”

  It was, actually, the last thing she wanted to do. “Sure. Where’s your dad?”

  “Meetings, I think.”

  She sat down opposite him at the tiny round table by the window, studying the face that was so much like the one that had haunted Zoe’s dreams all night. “Is he going to be here today?”

  Evan nodded and started to shuffle, eyeing her as he did.

  “What?” she asked after an uncomfortable moment.

  “So you and my dad knew each other a long time ago, huh?”

  Whoa. She hadn’t seen that one coming. “Very long time ago.”

  “Before Mom.”

  Actually, after. “More or less.” She gestured toward the cards. “You gonna split that deck, cowboy?”

  “I’m counting the cards.”

  “With your thumbs?”

  He nodded, then split the deck and handed her half. “I can remember what order they come out in, too, so I know if you’ve been through your deck once what the next card will be.”

  Her jaw unhinged. “You would be quite valuable in Vegas, you know.”

  “That’s what your aunt Pasha said.”

  Zoe snorted. “She would.”

  “I like her. ’Cept when she calls me Matthew.”

  “She does?” Zoe shook her head. “She likes to make up names for people. You can go first.”

  He put a card down and Zoe responded with a king, then he slapped down three more cards and the last one was a jack, so Zoe had to put one down. A seven.

  “Oh.” She made like she’d been shot. “You get the jack.”

  “That’s how you win this game,” Evan announced as he scooped up the pile.

  “Sure is.”

  “Can I ask you a question, Zoe?” He looked up with eyes so big and deep her heart nearly folded.

  What did he want to know? About his father? About their past? She took a deep breath, prepared at least to color the truth if not lie outright to protect this child. “Sure, what do you need to know?”

  “It’s kind of, I don’t know, out of line for me to ask.”

  “Out of line is my specialty. Fire away.”

  He leaned forward. “Would you talk my dad into getting me a dog?”

  “Is that Evan I hear?” Pasha’s voice came from the hall, sparing Zoe the answer.

  “Hi, Pasha.” Evan popped up from the table, his face bright. When the nurse wheeled her in, Pasha’s expression matched.

  An entirely unbidden thought popped into Zoe’s head: What if they really could work this thing out? If Pasha could live and be free, maybe Zoe really could stop running and Evan could stay with them and all four of them could live in a big house together. Forever. Maybe they could have another child, and that dog Evan wanted.

  Inside her chest, a pain as palpable as the one Pasha complained of gripped Zoe so hard she couldn’t breathe. She had no right to have fantasies like that, like some kind of fairy—

  “Zoe, are you all right, honey?” From her wheelchair, Pasha scowled. “You look worse than I feel.”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” She stood quickly to give Pasha a kiss hello. “I’m just…” Dreaming like a fool. “So happy to see you looking bright and chipper.”

  “I don’t know how bright I am, but they said all the tests are done for today and now I can rest.” She turned to Evan, putting a hand on his face. “How wonderful to see you, little one.”

  He gave a shy smile. “Hi, Pasha.”

  “Oh, I know, you’re not little,” she teased. “And I see you brought the cards for us.”

  The nurse came around the front of the chair. “I don’t think you’re going to be playing cards, Miss Pasha. Dr. Bradbury has strict rest orders today since the treatment begins tomorrow and you need to sleep.”

  Pasha’s shoulders slumped like a disappointed child. “Right away?”

  “Well, let’s get you into bed and we’ll see.”

  The nurse, Wanda, easily got Pasha into the bed and smoothed the covers. The two of them obviously shared a nice rapport. For the second time in a few minutes, Zoe let contentment and hope roll over her.

  “Thank you,” Zoe said to the nurse when she’d finished. “I promise we won’t keep her up too long.”

  Wanda cocked her head toward the hall and gave Zoe a look to come out and talk to her. Evan settled into the chair next to the bed, so Zoe gave her aunt another pat on the shoulder.

  “One game,” she said sternly. “And no swearing. Either of you.”

  They both gave her fake smiles, neither one willing to make a promise they knew they wouldn’t keep. She rolled her eyes and followed Wanda into the hall.

  “She really does need to sleep,” the nurse said. “Tomorrow’s a full transfusion and that’s going to really exhaust her.”

  “I promise we’ll cut out in a few minutes.” She glanced down the hall, unsure what she should do about Evan. “Is Dr. Bradbury here?”

  “He’s looking at the bone-scan results,” she said. “And I can tell you that test gave us some excellent news.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded, her dark eyes dancing. “This is unofficial, but I can tell you that scan showed no cancer in the bone.”

  “Was there a chance of that?”

  “There’s always a chance of that. The reason it’s good in this case is because they can focus on the soft tissues. I know you have other oncologists giving outside opinions on the test results, but assuming they agree, there’s going to be a T-cell transfusion here tomorrow.” She reached for Zoe’s arm. “That’s historic and exciting for all of us. Thank you for giving us this chance.”

  Zoe took the nurse’s hand. “Thank you for being so kind to her and making her comfortable. It’s made everything so much easier.”

  “Oh, I haven’t done much,” Wanda said. “She really has a good attitude.”

  Some laughter came from the room, reminding Zoe that Evan had a lot to do with Pasha’s change in attitude.

  “You can’t underestimate how important that is,” the nurse continued. “Especially after what she’s been through, it’s understandable.”

  Had Pasha told this nurse what she’d been through? Impossible. “You mean collapsing and going to the ER the other night?”

  “She told me everything.”

  “Everything?”

  Wanda waved her hand. “Don’t be shocked. People tell me stuff all the time. I think it’s the combination of the dark test room and the lorazepam. That stuff’s like truth serum. No surprise she’d mention her son.”

  “Her son?” Zoe had to be sure she’d heard that right.

  “We
ll, I guess he’d be your uncle, if she’s your great-aunt.”

  But she’s not my great-aunt. “My…uncle?”

  “She said he died when he was seven, so obviously you never knew him but, oh, what a tragedy. It’s no wonder sometimes she wants to end it all and be with him, but today she seemed quite happy about being alive.”

  Zoe had no idea what the nurse was talking about. “He died when he was seven?” she asked.

  Wanda gave her big eyes. “And how awful that he was murdered.”

  Murdered? For a second it felt like the world slipped away and left Zoe behind. All she could hear was the sheriff’s words.

  But she was cleared of that murder.

  He’d been talking about another Patricia Hobarth. Hadn’t he? Cold trickled through her veins.

  “Don’t look so stricken, honey. The drugs bring out all the skeletons.” Wanda patted her arm. “Really, don’t worry. Secrets are safe with me. I won’t even remind her that she told me her real name is Patricia.”

  All the happiness and hope started to seep out of the balloon that she’d dared let fill her chest.

  “Zoe, there you are.”

  She turned to see Oliver’s masculine silhouette moving down the hall, backlit by the window streaming morning light. Another wave of dizziness threatened, but this one was more primal and feminine, caused by the width of his shoulders, the certainty in his stride.

  “Hey.” It was all she could manage in the face of the onslaught.

  He reached her and gave a slight, secret smile. Had he forgiven her for disappearing last night? Hell, had she forgiven herself for the little temper tantrum? She’d certainly suffered for it overnight.

  From the looks of his face, he hadn’t suffered at all.

  “I bet Wanda told you the good news.”

  Wanda laughed as she walked away. “I’m lousy with a secret.”

  Then would she be spreading the news about…Pasha’s son?

  “We’ll progress with the transfusion as soon as the oncologist reports are in.” Oliver reached to touch her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I am,” she finally said, forcing a smile. “I’m…I’m really sorry,” she said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have left.”

  He angled his head, a rare look of uncertainty on his face—rare at least in these surroundings, where he never looked less than sure of everything.

  “I freaked out,” she admitted before he could answer. “It was really intense and I—”

  Evan stepped into the hallway, interrupting the conversation. “She’s asleep!” He announced, devastated.

  “That’s what we want, son,” Oliver told him. “I’ve given her something to keep her resting today. Tomorrow’s going to be the biggest day of her life.” He turned to Zoe, a spark of warmth in his eyes. “First day of the rest of it, I hope.”

  “What should I do, Dad?”

  Zoe knew what she wanted to do. Internet searches for…the truth.

  “Well, I guess you could hang around here or…” Oliver gave a beseeching look to Zoe.

  She pulled herself together and looked down at the little boy. The one Pasha called Matthew. She had to know more about what that nurse had told her.

  “You know what?” Oliver said suddenly. “I’ve put everything aside for Pasha today and we’re ready to roll tomorrow.” He put an arm around Zoe and reached for Evan’s hand. “Let’s do something together.”

  Oh, the fantasy balloon was inflating again, damn it.

  “Like what, Dad?”

  “Anything you want,” Oliver replied.

  Evan looked up at Zoe with a longing so clear she could practically hear him barking his plea to her: Tell him I want a dog!

  Zoe inched back, shaking her head. “You two go off and have a father-and-son day. I’ve got…stuff to do.”

  Disappointment flickered in Oliver’s eyes. Of course he thought she was running away, bailing before things got too stable and steady.

  But that wasn’t true. Still, she couldn’t tell him. Not until she knew more.

  “You go.” She eased away, toward the door. “I’m going to whisper good-bye to Pasha.” She escaped before either one could argue, slipping into the room where Pasha slept.

  She hesitated for a second, then walked to the bed, taking in the peaceful countenance of a woman she thought she knew.

  Pasha wasn’t capable of murder; Zoe would bet her life on that.

  But then, hadn’t Zoe bet her life on everything Pasha said and did? Hadn’t she let this woman make every call and dictate every move and insist on a lifetime of lying?

  Had Pasha given up everything for Zoe, or had Zoe given up everything for her? Everything.

  The fairy tale. The family. The love of a good man. Everything.

  What was she doing? Oliver was offering it to her again. And her answer? To run, of course. Maybe she thought she was running to smooth out this new wrinkle—whatever it was, however it affected them—but she was running nonetheless.

  Damn it. When would she stop? When would she run to something wonderful instead of away?

  With one last glance at Pasha, Zoe spun around and darted to the door, looking down the hall to catch that same silhouette and a much smaller one right next to it.

  “Oliver! Evan!”

  They both turned.

  “Wait for me!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Oliver actually heard his own breath hiss through his teeth when he turned and saw Zoe running down the clinic hall, her eyes shiny and sparkling.

  “Dog,” she said, a little breathless.

  “What?”

  “Yes! We’re getting a dog!” Evan jumped noisily.

  Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but when Zoe slipped her slender fingers into his hand and tugged him, any chance of saying no to anyone about anything disappeared.

  “We’re getting a dog?” He echoed Evan’s statement, only less enthusiastically.

  Zoe didn’t answer, but fished her keys out of her pocket. “We’ll take my Jeep so there’s room to get a crate and all the stuff and…” She looked at Evan. “A nice big pooch.”

  He jumped again and Oliver finally found his common sense. “Whoa, just one second.” He shook his head, hard. “Not so fast.”

  “Dad!”

  She looked from one to the other, settling on Oliver. “Okay, what exactly are your issues with a dog?”

  “Taking care of it.”

  “I will!” Evan said.

  Oliver rolled his eyes. “What about when you go back to Chicago in the fall?”

  “I’ll bring it with me.”

  Oh, that would go over big with Adele. “Uh, your mother is not a fan of dogs.”

  “She’ll love my dog.”

  “Not its pee on her white carpets.”

  Evan giggled. “We’ll house-train it before I go back.”

  “You think we can have a dog at the villa?” Oliver asked.

  “Yes, Miss Lacey already told me I could.” Evan looked downright smug.

  “Dogs are a responsibility, Evan. This isn’t a stuffed animal. It’s a living, breathing creature who needs attention and love and devotion…” His gaze shifted to Zoe, his chest suddenly tight. “That’s an awfully big commitment that some people can’t imagine making.”

  She barely flinched at the not-so-subtle dig.

  “I can do it, Dad.” Evan squeezed his other hand. “I promise I’ll take care of it, I’ll walk it, I’ll feed it, I’ll do everything, I’ll love it. And it can sleep in my room. I promise. Dad, please? Please?”

  Zoe smiled. “How can you say no to that face?”

  Knowing he had what he wanted, Evan slathered it on, grinning his most adorable smile.

  Shit. “You can’t change your mind, Ev,” he said. “You can’t take it back if it turns out to be more than you can handle.”

  He held up his right hand, the image of solemnity. “I swear, Dad. I swear to you.”

  Oliver let out a sigh and dug around
for anything at all that could counter that. Nothing showed up.

  “All right, then,” Zoe said, scrolling through her phone. “Let’s find the local rescue shelters.”

  This time Evan froze. “I want a puppy.”

  “Well, they have puppies. Sometimes.”

  He frowned, seeking support from Dad. “Don’t you want a puppy?”

  “I think I’ve made my feelings clear on the subject. And if it’s your dog, you can get whatever you want.”

  “Oliver!” Zoe’s eyes were wide. “There are rescue dogs who need homes.”

  But Evan stepped forward to make his own argument. “Zoe, I want a puppy. There’s a pet store in the mall about ten minutes from here. I already Googled it.”

  “Of course you did,” she said. “And you’re right. It’s your dog. Let’s go see what they’ve got.”

  Half an hour later the three of them stood in front of a glass partition, looking at about fifteen puppies of various shapes and breeds, sleeping, eating, and generally looking adorable in their little cages.

  Zoe leaned against the glass, watching as Evan walked back and forth, eyeing each critically, completely involved in the selection process. Oliver let his son go and stood next to her.

  “So what changed your mind?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Pasha was sleeping and I had nothing else to do.”

  “I meant last night, when you disappeared.”

  “You know…things got dicey.”

  He took her chin and tilted her face up to him, lost for a moment in inviting green eyes. “Things get dicey in life, Zoe. You can’t always—”

  “I can’t decide!” Evan popped in front of them. “I love the Yorkie, but that’s not a very big dog.”

  “Little is good,” Oliver said.

  “But there’s that fluffy white thing.”

  “American Eskimo.” Zoe nodded. “Pretty dog, too.”

  Evan sighed. “I also like him.” He pointed to a black-and-white rat terrier, sound asleep and looking far more peaceful than he probably was when awake.

  “Rat terrier? Sounds like he might bring home some unwanted friends,” Oliver mused. “But you pick the dog who speaks to you.”

  Still pondering, Evan walked back down the glass, leaving them alone again.