Sarah never wanted to leave Whidbey; he knew that. Yet with a little time and some persuasion from him, he thought she’d be willing to move. The recruiter had said he could get stationed in Hawaii! Why wouldn’t Sarah want to join him there, to have Dottie run on hot sand instead of freezing wet grass most of the summer? “I’ll send you my paychecks as soon as I get them. My pilot training is going to be at Moffett Field, in California. I’ll be an aviation cadet, enlisted, because of my high school diploma. But I’ll become an officer if I can, Sarah.” He watched her long fingers hover over his freshly pressed undershirts, her lips wobbly as she tried not to cry.
Dear, sweet Sarah. She was tough as nails one minute, a complete cream puff the next. It was part of what he loved about her.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Sure it is. You can save it all, or use it to buy yourself a pretty dress.”
She threw down his one pair of pajamas and propped her hands on her hips as she faced him.
“I don’t need a pretty dress, Henry. And I can make enough off the farm and my library position to support Dottie and me just fine. But I don’t give a darn about any of it. I want you to come back safe, do you hear me?”
He stared into her green eyes and knew he’d come back. He didn’t have a choice; they were meant to be together.
She’d said “come back.” So she’d accepted that he needed to do this; he needed to go.
Unlike the reaction he’d expected, her capitulation didn’t make him feel jubilant. The reality of the months, possibly years, apart made his chest feel as it there was a huge weight on it.
“I’ll come back better than ever, Sarah Jean. You just watch me.”
He smiled at her, the way he did after he brought her to climax, the private smile that always made her blush. When her cheeks turned rosy he grabbed her hand.
“Is Dottie asleep by now, do you think?”
“She closed her eyes as soon as I turned out her light.”
“Come to bed with me, Sarah. Love me.”
“Oh, Henry.”
She trembled with her need and he knew he’d remember this night through all his days away. He unbuttoned the six tiny red buttons that ran in between her breasts and slid his hand over her breast, encased in a simple white cotton bra. He teased her nipple through the material and she bit his earlobe.
“Don’t torture me, Henry.” Her breath was sweet and her skin hot as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.
“There’s nothing here but pleasure, darling.” He hiked up her dress and pulled it over her arms, which she’d lifted to help him. Her dress and his pants hit the pine floor of the farmhouse at the same time, followed quickly by their underwear.
Sarah turned to clear the bed of his luggage.
“Wait.”
She turned back to him. “What?”
“Let me do this for you, before we go to the bed.”
He knelt down in front of her and she sighed, her hands massaging, then gripping, his shoulders. Henry had to have all of her tonight. As he breathed in her essence and used his mouth to make her cry out, he prayed it wouldn’t be the last time.
Whidbey Island Two days before Thanksgiving
SERENA LUGGED THE last of the attic boxes into the spanking new climate-controlled storage room she’d had built as an extension off the garage. Both were connected to the farmhouse by a small mudroom. It was the only structural change she’d made since she’d inherited Dottie’s house.
“It’s your house now,” she muttered under her breath. It took time to adjust to the fact that she was a homeowner, and not only that, the home was where the woman who’d given her and Pepé comfort and unconditional love had lived her entire life.
It was already more than six months since Dottie’s death and the house still felt lonely without her. As if somehow the house itself wasn’t finished mourning the woman who’d filled it with so much love for so many years.
Nevertheless, Serena and Pepé had made it their home and the rhythm of their life had settled into a comfortable, manageable zone.
Until Pepé’s doctor’s appointment last week.
Running into Jonas Scott at the clinic had been her roughest time on Whidbey so far. Not counting the day, of course, that Dottie had been murdered at the hands of a psycho.
It stung that she was attracted to Jonas—attracted with a capital A. Of course the first man to get her blood going since Phil’s death had to be the one person she had nothing in common with. Except for Dottie....
Besides, no matter who Jonas was to her, it was too soon to think about a new relationship. Her body was only starting to wake up after her grief.
Her back ached painfully, the muscles tight and weary after moving what felt like a ton of knickknacks. Aunt Dottie, and probably her mother before her, had had a penchant for collecting curios. Unable to fathom sorting the monstrous collection so soon after Dottie’s death this past summer, Serena thought her idea of placing the decades-old boxes in stackable plastic bins a stroke of genius. Until she realized each bin weighed a minimum of twenty-five pounds. And she’d had to purchase dozens of them.
“I am crazy.” The boxes were stacked neatly against the far wall of the storage room, but it was only a prelude to the inevitable chore.
Sorting.
“Mom! Mommmm!” Pepé’s cries grew louder as he zeroed in on her location. Like a bat, Pepé had his own kind of echolocation when it came to Serena.
Especially since Phil had died.
“Here, hijo.” She wiped her forehead and placed her hands on her hips. She’d gotten to know Dottie only in the last months of her life, and Serena’s appearance obviously came from her Hispanic mother. Dottie had been tiny and petite whereas Serena’s curves resembled her mother’s.
Mama. Juanita Rodriguez was her rock, to this day. Serena had been all but abandoned by her biological father but Juanita had made up for it, as had her abuela and her tias. She missed her mother and made a mental note to call her later. It was time to start building the bridge between them that the pursuit of her biological father’s family had severely tested.
“Mom, look!” Pepé ran into the room with an action-hero figure, his focus entirely on the red plastic toy clutched in his small fingers. “I can fly!”
“Wonderful, Pepé, just watch out for the— No!” She lunged forward to catch him as Pepé’s arms flew out, his toy launching through the air as he landed on the box she had yet to stack.
The plastic bin toppled over and its cover popped off, spilling piles of crushed newsprint onto the tile floor.
“Pepé, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Where’s my hero?” Pepé scrambled to his feet as quickly as he’d fallen, his gaze intent on the stacked boxes.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Joseph Peter Delgado. I’ll find it, but for now, help me put this box back together. Carefully.”
Pepé frowned as he bent down to help Serena. He knew she only invoked his full name when he’d pushed it. He was a sweet little boy, all boy. The dull ache of loss pounded in her rib cage, though it had faded from the life-changing pain that had engulfed her when the uniformed U.S. Marine