Page 22 of The Banned Books Club
Setting her phone aside, Gia drew a deep breath and turned her face back up to the sky. She’d battle the whole damn town if she had to, but she wouldn’t let something that happened seventeen years ago get the best of her now.
There she was! Cormac stood at his bedroom window, transfixed. Since learning that Gia was home, he’d looked out at her parents’ property again and again—mostly in agitation. He was irritated that she was so close and couldn’t help wondering what was going on in her mind. How it felt to be back. If she regretted the choices she’d made and the things she’d done when she lived in Wakefield.
And then, just as he was about to call it a night—the Rossi house was dark, so he’d assumed everyone there was already in bed—Gia had appeared in the yard and sat on a lounger near the pool and hot tub.
After racing down the stairs, he held Duke inside so the dog couldn’t give him away, let himself out and crept around to the back.
He realized almost immediately that he should’ve grabbed a jacket. It was freezing. But Gia didn’t seem to notice. Still in chinos, a button-up shirt and loafers from work, he was probably warmer than she was in her short-sleeved orange blouse and jeans, and yet she wasn’t even shivering.
He could take the cold if she could, he told himself and refrained from going back inside. He was too curious to see what he could, too afraid he’d miss something if he left for even a few minutes. What was she like these days? How was she approaching her return? Boldly and unapologetically? Filled with remorse? Older and wiser and, hopefully, kinder?
There was no way to tell. Although she had a cell phone in her hand, she wasn’t on it, so it wasn’t as if he was privy to any revealing bits of conversation. She seemed restless, troubled, and he could understand why. If it were anyone else, he would’ve had some compassion for what was happening in her family. But this wasn’t anyone else. This was the one person who’d damaged his own family beyond repair.
When she turned her face up toward the sky, he caught his first clear glimpse of what she looked like these days. He’d been hoping she wasn’t nearly as attractive as she’d been in high school. Then she’d have one less weapon to use against the unsuspecting men around her. His animal studies had taught him that certain predators employed aggressive mimicry—the use of signals or behaviors to draw their prey in close before pouncing.
When he’d first learned the term, he’d thought he finally had a way to describe what she’d done to his father, and felt sorry for any other men who might’ve been fooled by her since. So he was disappointed to see that she was more beautiful than ever with her long, strawberry blond hair, flawless skin and high cheekbones. She’d always had a particularly kissable mouth—even if she did have a sharp tongue when provoked. She definitely fit the feisty stereotype of a redhead. But her best feature was her clear green eyes rimmed with thick golden lashes. In high school, they’d held him spellbound whenever she looked at him...
But that was before he knew what she was really like, he reminded himself. Had she accused anyone else of improper conduct over the years? He wouldn’t doubt it. She’d probably filed a sexual harassment complaint at every place she worked.
She stood and began to pace for a few minutes but instead of going inside, where it was warm, she sat back down on the chaise and began to cry. Several tears rolled down her cheeks unheeded and fell off her chin. Then she buried her face in her hands.
Shit. That wasn’t what Cormac had wanted to see. That was thelastthing he’d wanted to see. There was no way he was going to allow himself to feel any sympathy for Gia.
Backing away, he slipped deeper into the shadows before making his way around to the front. In the past seventeen years, he’d only ever imagined her as she’d been right after she accused his father—stoic, tough, impervious to challenge. She’d stuck with her story in spite of all the pressure she’d been under to tell the truth—and some of that pressure had come from her own parents.
To tell a lie with that much resolve required nerves of steel.
Tonight, she was probably just grieving for her dying mother, he told himself. Someone would have to be a robot not to feel pain for a beloved parent suffering from cancer. But the vulnerable expression on her face had gotten to him, so much so that he spent the rest of the night trying to get that tragic image of her—a beautiful, forlorn woman weeping in the dark—out of his head.
When she pulled into her parents’ drive, Margot felt the same relief she used to feel—before the cancer struck. Her childhood home was a safe haven, a place where Sheldon was more careful than anywhere else to keep up appearances—although lately, he typically chose not to accompany her here. He claimed he was too busy. But he had plenty of time for his own parents. He just didn’t have any interest in hers, and she knew it.
She didn’t mind, though. She preferred to come alone, always enjoyed the reprieve. Today, she didn’t even have the boys with her, since they were both in school.
Although she had errands to run—some for Sheldon’s business, and he wouldn’t be happy if she didn’t get them done—she’d gotten up early to be sure she could fit everything in and still have time to stop over for breakfast. Gia and their parents had always struggled to get along. Gia was too much like their mother—opinionated and headstrong—which meant they often clashed, and their father seemed to believe it was his duty to support Ida whether she was right or wrong, so he clashed with Gia, too.
But these days Ida was so sick. She probably didn’t care about trying to keep her oldest daughter in line.
Margot hoped that meant she’d be satisfied letting Gia take care of her. It didn’t hurt to check, though. Margot couldn’t leave town if she felt her mother needed her to stay. And since she was dreading uprooting herself and her children and heading into the unknown almost as much as she was looking forward to it—even the thought of coming out in open opposition to Sheldon was frightening—she was sort of hoping for an excuse to stay.
“The devil you know...” she mumbled. There was undeniable comfort in the familiar.
As she got out of her Subaru and approached the house, Margot could see Gia through the window over the kitchen sink and felt a strange sort of nostalgia. As much as they’d bickered as children, they were family. She’d always secretly admired her courageous older sister—and often wondered why she didn’t feel the same level of passion and drive.
Her father was watching the news when she opened the slider, so he saw her first. He got up to welcome her as she walked in and followed her into the kitchen.
“Smells good in here,” she said.
Gia was frying potatoes in one pan and bacon in another, and there was a carton of eggs on the counter.
“Mom said she was craving eggs over easy.” Gia used her spatula to motion toward the toaster. “Can you put the bread in? The bacon and potatoes are almost done.”
Margot bent to pet Miss Marple, then washed her hands and did as Gia requested before crossing to the pink vinyl booth that had always served as their kitchen table. Their mother was sitting at one end of it in a purple sweat suit with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “How are you feeling today?”
Ida offered her a wan smile. “About the same.”
Margot leaned in to kiss the papery skin covering her mother’s cheek. “I’m sorry there’s been no improvement.”
“Everyone has problems,” Ida said with a shrug.
