The Family Gathering (Sullivan's Crossing #3)(46)

“When you reexamined it, did you realize he didn’t treat you like he loved you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’m sorry. But you won’t make that mistake again,” he said.

“And you? Did you learn some painful lessons from being in love?” she asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally said. “We’ll be okay, Sid. We’re going to enjoy life and be a little less alone. When it doesn’t work for you, tell me.”

“And you’ll just go away quietly?”

“How about we don’t talk about me going away so soon. But anything you want or need from me...”

“It’s taking a lot of willpower to get out of this bed,” she said.

“Yeah, me, too. But I’ll take you home because I don’t want you to have regrets, not even about leaving.”

“I’m really glad I met you, Cody.”

“Don’t call me that in front of people at the bar, okay? I don’t want anyone to pick it up, use it. I love it when you call me Cody. I don’t want anyone else to call me that.”

“Your brother and sisters...”

“That’s them,” he said. “That’s a whole other thing. But when you say it, it feels personal and I like it.”

“Then do me one more time, Cody. I love the way you touch me.”

“Good. Because I can’t get enough of you, Sid.”

*

It was 4:09 a.m. when Cal lounged in his favorite chair in the great room, his feet propped up on the ottoman. He had hoped to be wrong, but he heard a soft sound from upstairs and then the creaking of one stair. He had intended to do something about that creak—it was kind of loud. But as he heard Sedona sneaking down the stairs, heard her softly curse at the sound, then continue down, he made a decision. He would never fix that stair because he’d have a teenage daughter one day and the alarm could come in handy.

Sedona was carrying her shoes in one hand and her suitcase in the other. When she got to the bottom, she put down the suitcase, opened the purse that hung by a strap over her shoulder and began digging in it. He cleared his throat and she jumped in surprise. “Oh!” she gasped, dropping her shoes. She clutched her blazer over her heart in stunned surprise. After a few breaths, she said. “You scared me! What are you doing up so early?”

“I’ve been up,” he said. He dangled her car keys on one finger. “Looking for these?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“What were you going to do? Leave a note?”

“I checked with the airline last night and they had an earlier flight they could put me on. I really need to get home.”

“Why?” he asked. He sat up, pushed the ottoman out of the way and put his feet on the floor.

“I have things to do. The kids need me to be home. Work needs me. You know, just... This trip was very short notice...”

“I called Bob,” Cal said. “You know—your husband.”

“Why would you do that?” she asked. “When did you do that?”

“Just a little while ago. I didn’t wake him. He gets up before five. He likes to run before six, before it gets hot. But then, you know that, don’t you? Sit down, Sedona.”

“Look, I have a flight and Denver is a long drive.”

“Sit down, please,” Cal said. “He told me.”

“He doesn’t know anything,” she said. “He has no training whatsoever and he doesn’t know anything. He has opinions, that’s all. And it’s none of your business.”

“How long have you been fighting this, concealing this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Your marriage isn’t in trouble because you’re a perfectionist. You’ve been fighting mental illness by trying to maintain control of your surroundings and the people in your life, but it’s not working so well. Bob blames himself, you know. He’s been so busy and he hasn’t taken you to see someone—he trusted you to do it. And you like to excuse what’s going on as harmless habits, but he’s found you in trouble too often, hasn’t he? You don’t sleep, you talk to yourself—or are you talking to someone? Someone the rest of us can’t see?”

“No!” she insisted.

“He said sometimes you’re a little out of reality. You have manic episodes. Man, is your house perfect, right? You’re confused sometimes. Forgetful? Or is that compensating—just agreeing with someone even though you have no memory of what they’re telling you? Jesus, Sedona, after what we went through growing up with Jed, why would you accept denial?”

Her chin dropped. She slid onto the end of the couch. She spoke as if she’d lost her breath. “I can’t do this,” she said weakly.

“Do you know what’s wrong or are you just afraid of what could be wrong?” Cal asked. “Bob said his terms were that you see a doctor or he’s divorcing you and finding a way to get custody. That’s what he said. Are you afraid it’s schizophrenia? Are you just paralyzed?”

“I’m functional,” she said in a pleading voice. “I have it under control. I’m not like Jed at all. And I’m not self-medicating! Everyone gets a little absentminded sometimes. Lots of women are perfectionists—it’s how we manage to be professionals and mothers and wives and—”