Family Skeletons Read online

  She leaned forward to put her hand on his. “I tried calling Marcus, on Jonathan’s cell, but I got his voice mail. I didn’t want to leave a message like this one.”

  “Just as well. I’ll call. He’ll want to talk to me anyway.” He frowned, and then looked at the phone on the stand beside his bed. “My cell is probably still on the coffee table next to that empty bag of chips. But he’ll accept charges.”

  Sunny didn’t know where her cell was. Probably in her purse, which was...she didn’t have the slightest idea where that was either.

  Ryan shifted his head to look down at her bandaged leg. “And what happened to you? Dammit, Sunny, it’s not safe to let you out of my sight.”

  “I had an argument with a rock on my way down the cliff.”

  “One immovable object meets another?” He managed a smile, but it was strained. “I was right about the bullet, and lucky as hell. It went all the way through. They’re going to let me out of here tomorrow, and you’re going to have to put up with me for a while longer. I’m not ready to even think about sitting in a car for the couple of hours it’ll take to get home.”

  “Oh. Well.” She exaggerated her frown. “But I promised everyone I’d go home tomorrow. Can you manage out there at that big old house all by yourself?”

  “You’re funny, doll. Very funny. Now get out of here and let me get some sleep. I feel all dopey.”

  Unable to resist, she broke into a grin.

  His words must have taken an instant longer to reach his ears than hers. Belatedly he laughed, flinched at the pain the action caused, and then he pointed his forefinger at her in warning. “Shut up, Sunny. You say it and I’ll make you sorry. I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  As they stood atop the bluff overlooking the ocean, Sunny held on to Matthew’s arm for support while she lowered herself onto one knee. Then she settled on the ground with that leg crossed under her and the wounded one positioned with the knee bent. They’d remained at the top of the cliff instead of descending to the beach because she’d promised the doctor she’d stay out of the sandbox until her leg healed.

  She’d been living in sweats for three days. She’d been told to wear what she wanted to, as long as she kept the leg clean, but Jonathan was back in mother hen mode. He didn’t want her injury exposed to the tiniest chance of infection, which meant air, sun, light, sheets...

  At first she’d resisted, but by the third or fourth or fifth argument she’d concluded the only way to save her sanity was to humor him. Ryan had said nothing, simply watched and listened to them with a bland manner that Sunny had found irritating. Anyway, shorts were out, the legs of her jeans were too tight around the bandage, so...

  She was getting awfully tired of sweatpants. She even had to sleep in the stupid things.

  Once she was settled, Matthew sat next to her and wrapped his arms around his knees. His face was strained as he kept his gaze on the ocean. It had been like pulling teeth to get him to take this walk with her.

  Matthew and Jonathan had prepared a bedroom for Matthew at the old Victorian, getting everything the teenager needed from his residence behind the store in one trip. He’d been given the choice of upstairs or downstairs, and he’d chosen a room near the kitchen. He’d been doing some of the cooking, keeping the meals simple, but he managed it so effortlessly that Sunny suspected he was a better cook than she was. She wondered if the feel for cooking was a legacy from their father.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  He nodded without looking at her. His Adam’s apple was prominent.

  “If it’s agreeable with you,” she said, “I want to petition the court for legal guardianship.”

  He was silent. With the feeling she was fighting her way uphill while standing in place, she went on. “I have to look for another place, in San Francisco, and I’ll find one big enough for both of us that’s in a good school district. But that means you’d be starting all over again in a new school. What do you think about that?”

  His throat worked as he swallowed. “I don’t have any ties here. Not really. Maybe I’d be better off getting away from everything and starting all over.”

  She took in a long breath, hoping her relief that he’d finally spoken wasn’t too evident, and that her lack of confidence wasn’t overly obvious. She’d talked this over with everybody but Matthew, yet his concurrence was the most important. “Good. I’ll need time to set everything up. Mavis and Tom want you to stay with them until I get it rolling, and that will give you some transition time. Will that work for you?”

  His head bobbed as he kept his gaze on the horizon. “They’re good people.”

  “We’ll need help, all kinds of legal help, in dealing with the store and its inventory. That’s a biggie, but we can do it. And Roberta will help, if that’s all right with you. She’s got a good business mind.”

  Again he nodded, but said nothing.

  “Whatever gain is realized from the sale of the store, and that’s left after your mother’s legal expenses, should go toward your education. That’s what she wanted, too. She’d told me so.”

  Still he remained silent. His gaze hadn’t left the ocean, but she wondered if he really saw it.

  “College is right around the corner,” she continued. “But it shouldn’t be a problem, not financially. Corday Cove belongs to you as much as it does to me. Jonathan and I got in a couple minutes of discussion about this, and I think it’s going to be a three-way split, but the least you’ll have is half of mine. The only stipulation is that it goes toward your education first, then into a trust fund until you’re twenty-five.”

  He looked at the ground, then his eyes squinched shut. “Sunny, you don’t have to—”

  “I know I don’t. I’m doing it because I want to and because it’s right.”

  Sunny had been of two minds regarding the age stipulation. If she’d had any real money before she was twenty, she would’ve blown every cent of it, yet she suspected Matthew was smarter than that. Jonathan had leaned toward the age requirement, however, so she’d gone along with it.

  Matthew’s face turned away, to where she now saw more of the back of his head than his profile. Silence stretched. Then she said quietly, “We need to get to know each other. We need to find out what works and what doesn’t. And we need to be honest. If we can do that, everything else will fall into place. And the truth is that I want to make the familial bond between us legal. If that’s what you want also, that’s where we’ll start.”

  Matthew, help me out. Please. In a lot of ways you’re more mature than I am. I don’t just need your cooperation, I need your help.

  “Well?” she prompted. “Shall we get this ball rolling? Shall we go for it?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  * * *

  “Thanks, Sunny,” Mavis said as she accepted the can of beer. It was Sunday, a busy day in the real estate game, but she’d refused to work.

  “If I don’t deserve a day off today, I’ll never deserve one,” she’d said when climbing down from her husband’s four-wheeler. With one foot on the ground and the other one still on the truck’s runner, she’d given her hostess a pained look with some heavy aggravation in it. “‘We found the owner of the bloody bat.’ The mother of all messages.”

  Because it appeared a peace offering might be in order, Sunny had gone after the can of beer.

  Settling in the lawn chair, wearing khaki shorts that exposed slightly veined but still shapely legs, Mavis popped the top and took a long slug. “Umm. High society can have their champagne. I’ve got a weakness for beer. It’d be better with a cigarette, of course, but it’s still good.”

  Sunny stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles. Unable to endure the lackluster gray sweats a day longer, she’d bought a bright-red pair, and in response to the warm day she wore a skimpy white tank top over the pants. “By the way, thanks for taking Matthew to see Bev. He seems more at ease now.”

  “Good. When he told her
he was staying with you, she gave him a hard look and then directed it at me. But she didn’t argue.”

  They sat in the shade of the eucalyptus, watching the men work. The yard resembled a community car wash. The Reviler had been finished and returned to the front, and Tom had been invited to drive his truck around to the back. Matthew was hosing it down for him. Ryan stood on the sidelines, nursing his wound and enjoying his role of supervisor.

  “You missed a spot there, Tom.”

  “You’re missing more than that, Ryan.”

  Sunny giggled. “One can shy of a six-pack, maybe?”

  Executing an excellent parody of a slow burn, Ryan turned to look at Sunny. She held her soda pop can up.

  Mavis chuckled. “You seem to be holding up okay.”

  Sunny echoed the laugh. “I guess. I feel punchy, to tell the truth. And rummy. Like my head’s not on straight yet. Roberta is working on the legal end of things, I’m glad. She’s got the mind for that. I never did, even at the best of times.”

  “When are you heading for home?”

  “In another couple of days Ryan should be up to it. That’s why I want Matthew to go home with you today. Give him some time with you and Tom before I clear out. For his sake and yours.” She hesitated. “And mine. I just want to, well, make sure he’s okay? I don’t know how to explain it.”

  Mavis smiled her understanding.

  Then Sunny changed the subject. “I don’t know how he wrangled it, but Jonathan got this coming week off, too. It’s going to seem strange leaving him here on his own, instead of the other way around.”

  Mavis gave her a surprised sideways glance. “Jonathan only has one more week? I thought...” Then the surprise she must’ve seen on Sunny’s face induced Mavis into silence.

  “You thought what?” Sunny prompted.

  “Well, he told me he didn’t want to put the house on the market after all.” Mavis spoke slowly, as if feeling her way. “He’s been asking around about contractors, and...” She rolled her eyes and looked at the car washers. “Oh, hell. Me and my big mouth. When am I going to learn to keep it shut?”

  You and your big mouth, and him and his closed one.

  Sunny sat back and stared straight ahead.

  So, okay, Jonathan. What’s with the contractors, and how come I’m in the dark here?

  Sunny kept her cool for the rest of the day, not barging up to Jonathan like she wanted to and demanding answers. Not because of him, herself, or social niceties, but because of Matthew. She kept her misgivings to herself through dinner, maintaining an easy manner that even fooled Ryan. After seeing Tom and Mavis and Matthew off, Sunny sat out on the back porch by herself.

  This isn’t good, Sunny. When you keep things to yourself, you explode.

  Eventually Jonathan joined her. “I was wondering what happened to you.” Instead of sitting down, he crossed to the screen and watched the fast-disappearing sun. “It’s getting chilly out here. Are you ready to come inside?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He glanced at her. “Sounds like there’s more chill to you than there is in the air. What’s wrong?”

  “Is there something about not selling the house that you want to talk to me about?”

  “Oh.” He frowned. “I should’ve realized that—”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  “—Mavis might mention it. I hadn’t thought to tell her—”

  “To keep it to herself?”

  He gave her a level look. “Yes. Until I got a chance to talk to you.”

  Elaborately she looked around the porch. “It’s just you and me right now. Go for it, Jonathan.”

  After a long silence, he asked quietly, “Am I on trial, Sunny?”

  With her gaze fixed steadily on him, she enunciated precisely, “Let’s not...get off...the subject. What, exactly, are your plans regarding the house?”

  He waited another long moment, matching her stare, and then he crossed the porch and opened the door leading into the kitchen. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Maybe you’ll be more receptive and less contentious in the morning.”

  “Contentious, hell!” She jumped up and slammed the door closed. “We’ll damn well talk about it now.”

  “Don’t swear. I don’t like it when you—”

  “And I don’t like not being consulted about a major decision like this.”

  “I planned on consulting you. We’re equal partners, and I can’t do anything without you. I wanted facts and figures first, for myself as well as for you, and it’s been a little on the hectic side lately, too much so to bring up the subject. Even you must see that.”

  “Even me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He gave her a long stare. “Something tells me I’m not going to be able to say anything right tonight. All you’re capable of right now is an argument, and this is too important to discuss in the mood you’re in.”

  He opened the door again, and she closed it again.

  “It’s too important to put it off,” she snapped. “Too important not to have already discussed it. And it’s not my mood at fault here. It’s you and your lack of candor.”

  He frowned. “Lack of candor? What are you trying to say?”

  “Oh? Now you’re insulted? If I remember correctly, we talked once about my being used to taking care of myself. It looks like you’re used to that as well. Being equal partners with you evidently means that you do all the thinking and make all the decisions. Then when it suits you, you let me in on it.”

  He held his silence for a long while, then said, “You’ve got quite a temper in you. I’ve seen glimpses of it before, but never the full force of it.”

  “And you think you’re seeing it now? Not even close.” She forced herself to unclench her fists. “Do what you want with the damned house. Mail me the papers. I’ll either sign them or I won’t.”

  She opened the door and this time he closed it. “Oh, no, you don’t. You started this, Sunny, and now we’re going to finish it.”

  “Oh, really? You mean you’ve got a temper, too?” Just when she was wondering how much longer she could hold out before she smacked the wall with her fist, the kitchen light switched on. Their gazes—Jonathan’s now as hard and angry as she felt hers must be—remained locked on each other.

  “Sunny?” Ryan called curiously.

  “I’m out here, Ryan, on the porch.” She looked pointedly at Jonathan’s hand, which still gripped the doorknob. “The door’s stuck. I can’t get it open.”

  With his face taking on the appearance of a tight mask, Jonathan removed his hand. He also looked like he wanted to hit something.

  When she flung the door open, she almost hit Ryan with it. He backed up, looked at her and then beyond her at Jonathan’s back, then again at her. His face fell. “Oh, Sunny. No.”

  She passed him without a word.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Did you have to come on quite that strong, Sunny?

  She’d slept fitfully in her old bed in the back bedroom, her nagging inner voice giving her no mercy during the long night. She blinked into the dark room, wondering what time it was, ready to give up and get up regardless of the time.

  Sure, he should’ve talked to you, but you’ve made mistakes, too. Will you give him a chance to make amends?

  No.

  Why not?

  Because it’s over.

  The blankets and top sheet were tangled, the pillow lumpy. It was impossible to get comfortable. She wrestled her way onto her side, wondering again if it really had to be over. Then she swallowed, throat so tight that it felt sore, and slowly she nodded to herself.

  She had enough going on without having to deal with a romance and its complications. She was now responsible for a teenager. Talk about an instant, ready-made family. Life had become pretty heavy of late. Which was an understatement and a half.

  The ceiling didn’t appear as dark as it had the last time she’d noted it, and light was slowly becoming discernible behi
nd the frilly Priscilla curtains. She threw the covers back, dressed, and then quietly made her way downstairs, hoping she wouldn’t have company for a while.

  Sunny, wait. Maybe it doesn’t have to be over.

  Pressing her lips tightly together, she wondered precisely where and when this diehard sentimental side of hers had been born. But Jonathan had the same opportunity that she did right now to either patch it up or end it. Give him some time, and he might be grateful for the clean break. He was less volatile than she was, so he should see their incompatibility even more clearly than she did.

  As she drew water for the coffeepot, she turned the kitchen tap on to a mere dribble, trying for as little noise as possible. Yes, the relationship had been good, very good, while it lasted, but they both needed to move on. The house was the only thing they had in common, and even it had come between them. It was time to go home.

  When she reached for a coffee cup, movement at the hall doorway startled her. She jerked and bumped her hip against the corner edge of the counter hard enough that it’d probably leave a bruise. Then calmly she reached for a second cup.

  “Criminy, Ryan. You scared the hell out of me.”

  “What I’d like to do is scare some sense into you.”

  “Don’t start. Please.” She filled both cups, crossed the room and handed him one. He was barefoot and unshaven, hair uncombed, and he wore slacks and a pullover. His expression was closed.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. He accepted the cup but didn’t sip from it.

  “No.”

  “Okay. Will you talk about it?”

  “No.” She turned away. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “No.”

  She looked at the wall instead of at him. “I want to get out of here, Ryan. Correct that, I have to get out of here.” She sounded both pleading and belligerent and didn’t like either emotion.

  “Then go,” he said flatly. “I’ll drive myself when I’m ready.”

  She turned back. “But you said—”