Scarred Read online

  His shame had become bitterness and had changed him. This change had kept him from Autumn. His morphing into a creature who crept in silent apology had kept him from his mother and sister. Without even realizing it, he’d become apologetic for his very existence.

  Now this wild young woman stared them all down with a fierceness that he could not quite fathom. She did not cower or apologize. She came at them with her teeth bared.

  “None of you have any idea of the man Bradley is. You don’t appreciate him. You’ve all left him in one form or another. But I didn’t. I was there for him when none of you could be bothered.”

  The three of them stood there stunned and stung, as if she’d slapped them. At the end of a terrible three seconds, Autumn stepped forward, slicing the air between them, a shield between the turbulent girl and what remained of his family.

  “I’m sorry for you,” Autumn said, low and quiet. “When you’re older and you’ve lost someone or something dear to you, or when someone has betrayed you and left you to bleed alone, only then will you truly understand what it is you’ve done here. You can justify this to yourself as much as you want. The heart wants what it wants and all that. But no misguided justification changes the fact that you took a person who was not free for the taking. You’ve gobbled a meal not set at your table. You don’t know this now, but a man who leaves will always be a man who leaves. Coming here as you’ve done was cruel. Yet you don’t see it. You see only what you wanted, what you believe is your right to have. Someday, it will be you. In the end, we all reap what we sow.”

  Trinity backed up a few inches. Her voice became falsetto as words rushed from her chapped mouth. “No, that’s not how it works. People like me aren’t afraid to go for what they want. I don’t swallow the conventional bullshit, believing in some false, made-up rules about how to live. It’s only stupid, weak people who won’t grab what they want.”

  “Good luck to you,” Autumn said. She turned back to them and offered her arm to Jamie. “Let’s go home and have pie.”

  Pie?

  As if she’d heard his question, she smiled over at him. “Pie makes everything just a little better.”

  With his mother’s arm tucked next to him, and Autumn and Jamie entwined in a similar fashion, the four of them walked out of the lobby.

  When they were at the elevator, Mom turned to Autumn. “You, my dear, have quite the way with words.”

  For the second time that day, they laughed. This time, Autumn joined them.

  Later, he sat with Autumn and Jamie on the patio under the shade of an umbrella. His mother had gone upstairs to nap.

  His gaze swept the patio and pool area. This house was not the one he’d grown up in and still seemed strange to him. They’d moved to the spacious home in the hills of Del Mar after he’d left for college. His sister, however, had lived in this house since she was eight. He could tell it felt like home to her by the easy way she opened drawers and tossed her sweater on the countertop.

  Jamie pushed her hair behind one shoulder and sat forward, placing her elbows on the table. “What do we do about Mom?”

  Trey shook his head. “I was thinking I should bring her home with me. Just for a while. Dad’s probably going to send someone to get his crap, which she won’t want to be here for.”

  “I’d love to take it all to the beach and burn it in a bonfire,” Jamie said.

  Autumn chuckled. “I like that idea.”

  “Do you think Mom would be open to staying with me for a while?” he asked his sister before explaining that Stone and Pepper were moving out. “She could even have her own bedroom.”

  Jamie nodded. “I think it’s a great idea. Nothing like a change of scenery to get your head on straight.”

  He excused himself and went upstairs to use the bathroom. As he passed by his mother’s room, he heard her crying. He stopped at the door, unsure if he should go inside or not. Had he wanted comfort when his marriage had blown up? Those days were fuzzy, but he recalled long phone conversations with both his mother and Jamie. For a time, he’d come to stay here at the house before he moved to Cliffside Bay. Jamie had dropped in frequently, even though she was finishing her last year at college. They’d helped him come up with the plan to move to Cliffside Bay.

  He knocked softly on the door to his mother’s bedroom. “Mom? Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

  The sounds of sobs abruptly stopped. “I’m all right.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  He pushed the door open a few inches. Mom was perched on the side of the bed, still in her clothes and shoes from their hospital visit. She clutched a wad of tissues in her hands.

  He crossed over to her and sat next to her. “What can I do, Mom?”

  “Nothing, really. Your being here is very sweet.” She patted his leg. “I miss you. Your father was often away, and this house felt so big.” She sniffed and dabbed under her eyes. “I know now that it wasn’t work.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “I don’t know why I’m surprised. I should have seen it coming. I’m not the first of my friends to have this happen.”

  “Do you know what you want to do? Have you thought about it?”

  “Besides divorcing him, not really. I’ve been fixated suddenly on selling this house. It’s too big.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “And too full of your father,” she said.

  His presence was certainly reflected in the decor. The bedroom was all dark greens and mahogany furniture. Very masculine and imposing, like him. Downstairs, a large painting of him hung over the fireplace.

  “I’ll put it on the market and maybe find a place of my own.”

  “I thought you loved this house,” he said.

  “I’ve been asking your father to downsize for some time now. I thought he’d retire soon, and we’d travel together. Enjoy life. He’s always worked so much, which gave us this lifestyle, but he never took time to enjoy it. From the moment I met him, he was always so ambitious. I would’ve been happy for a quieter, less grandiose lifestyle. Especially if it meant I would’ve had more time with him.” She took in a jagged breath. “The truth is, he’s been checked out of this marriage for a long time. I was just too stupid to see it.”

  “Not stupid, Mom. You trusted him. We all did.” He hesitated, playing with his watch. “When it all came out about Malia and her affair, she made it seem like I’d practically forced her into cheating by being inadequate. I took that to heart, and I’ve let it affect me. I’ve allowed her judgments to dictate too many things.”

  “I’ve seen that,” she said. “You were so bitter and angry. You seem better now.”

  “It’s been over three years. A lot of great things have happened for me since then.”

  “I’m proud of you—the way you’ve started over. I hope I can do the same.”

  “You could come home with me,” he said, gently, as if he’d just thought of it. “Stay for a while. Just until you figure out your plan.”

  “No, I’d be in the way.”

  “Stone and Pepper are moving out next week. I’ve been dreading it, to tell you the truth. I’d love the company.”

  “What about Autumn? Will I be in the way of that?”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Is that right?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

  “Mom.”

  “Don’t try to fool me. I can see the way you look at her. What’s the problem?”

  “It’s complicated.” If she only knew how complex or the mess he’d gotten himself into pretending to be someone else. “But seriously, Mom. Come back with me. You can put the house up for sale from there. Let the Realtor take care of things.” Everything was in perfect order and clean. No staging required for his mother’s house.

  “It would be good to get away.”

  “Let’s plan on leaving tomorrow. You can decide later about the house.”

  “What about your father? I can�
��t just leave him in the hospital. Someone will need to look after him when he gets out.”

  He stared at her, unsure he’d heard her correctly.

  She laughed, a bitter, abrupt croak from the back of her throat. “Right. Force of habit. He has someone else for that now.” Tears swam in her eyes. She dabbed at them, then sighed. “Oh, Trey. This just seems too much. I’m so old. How do I start over?”

  “One day at a time. And you have Jamie and me. Lean on us.”

  “I feel like such a fool,” she said.

  “Betrayal has a way of making you feel that way, Mom. But this isn’t your fault.”

  She rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I’m so tired. I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “Take a little rest,” he said. “I’ll wake you up before dinner.”

  Mom slipped her shoes from her feet as he tossed a few pillows aside. She lay back, curled slightly with her hands under her cheek. He knelt by the side of the bed and looked into her eyes. “Do you remember what you told me when I came home after Malia and I split?”

  “No,” she said, smiling. “I hope it was something helpful.”

  “It was. You said, think of this as the beginning of a whole new life. A second chance.”

  “That wasn’t bad advice, I guess.”

  “No, it’s not.” He looked down at the hunter-green comforter, smoothing it with his hand. In his mind’s eye, he traveled the rooms of the house. Dark grays, greens, and reds were the colors of choice. He looked back at Mom. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Yellow.”

  “There’s no yellow in this house.”

  “Your father likes dark colors. And big, imposing houses. Everything big.”

  “We can find you a small house and decorate it in shades of yellow.”

  “And light blue, maybe?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  She closed her eyes. “That’s a good idea. Maybe it’ll be a home in Cliffside Bay, near you.”

  He kissed his mom’s cheek. Her skin was soft and warm. “We’d have fun together. Like the old days. Do you remember how we used to go the beach and art museums?”

  “We had good times, didn’t we? My whole life hasn’t been a lie, right?”

  “Of course not, Mom. He did this, not you. It’s too soon for you to know this, but his cheating has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.”

  “I could see it in his eyes this morning. A panic about his own mortality.”

  The clinging to a sense of youth. A hot rush of anger washed over him. His father had made a promise to grow old with his wife all those years ago. But now, when it came down to it and when youth with her supple skin and tight body had presented herself, he’d jumped. Not for the first time—and this time for very different reasons—he vowed to never be his father.

  “How long did you know?” Trey asked. “About Trinity.”

  “For the last six months.” She stared back at him with her pretty blue eyes. “It’s odd, I know, that I didn’t do anything—didn’t confront him or take steps to sort out all the details of what was next.”

  “Why didn’t you? Do you know?”

  “I think I needed time to adjust to the idea—to process the fact that my life as I knew it was over.” She closed her eyes. “But now I’m just so tired.”

  He kissed her soft cheek. “Take a rest. I’ll check on you later.”

  He stood and walked from the room, closing the door softly behind him. At the landing, he stopped and looked down into the formal sitting room where his father’s portrait hung above the fireplace. For a few minutes, he stared at his father’s face, the firm, determined mouth and hard jawline. The glint in his intelligent eyes that the artist had captured in tiny brush strokes. However, the artist had failed to identify the streak of selfishness and narcissism under the classically handsome features. Perhaps, like inner beauty, cruelty could not always be detected by the human eye. One had to look carefully to see such qualities.

  10

  Autumn

  * * *

  From the doorway to the kitchen, Autumn watched Trey standing on the landing. She noted the squaring of his shoulders and the way his eyes hardened into dull stone as he looked at the portrait of his father. It didn’t take much imagination to guess his thoughts of disappointment in equal measurement to resignation. Trey had already known the level of loyalty Bradley Wattson had toward his family. When his children hadn’t done exactly as he wished, they were cut off financially. This wasn’t much different, really. Bradley Wattson wanted what he wanted, and no one would stop him from taking it. Except death, of course. Which was Bradley Wattson’s true fear. She suspected he would soon find out that entanglement with the girl would only make him feel older in the end. Instead of the woman upstairs who’d given him the best years of her life and expected that they would melt into the twilight years as one, he’d chosen betrayal as the answer to his fear.

  Ainsley Wattson had seemed to have everything. Autumn imagined what her own mother would see if she saw this house and cars and the photographs of vacation homes. She would think: this woman has it all. In the end, wealth mattered little when the one you loved loved someone else.

  What was it about love and leaving that seemed to reside so closely together? For her and Trey, it seemed the ones they loved the most were the ones who left or had never shown up at all. Her parents, then Kyle. Trey’s wife, now his father. The risk was so great. Love and betrayal, like twins born from the same mother. One marked with grace and the other with darkness.

  Standing here, she would give anything to snatch Trey’s pain away from him. If she could, she would do anything to make him happy.

  A startling thought hit her in the middle of the chest. Was it Trey she wanted? Was he the one she loved? Was she unable to admit it to herself because she was afraid to risk rejection?

  She closed her eyes and gave herself strict instructions.

  No, don’t go there. Do not set yourself up that way.

  She stumbled into the kitchen. Jamie was at the cooktop, stirring a red sauce that smelled of basil, garlic, and tomato.

  “You hungry?” Jamie asked.

  “Starving.” She smiled, trying to get herself together.

  “You look strange, like you saw a ghost,” Jamie said. Trey’s sister was like an open-faced sandwich. Nothing hidden. Everything delicious right out for the world to see. She seemed to expect the same from others.

  “I’m fine,” Autumn said in response to Jamie’s question. “Maybe a little hungry.” Her stomach growled, as if to back her up. “That smells delicious.” Autumn sat on one of the tall stools at the island across from Jamie. The kitchen had dark wood cabinets and black granite, everything dark and classic and austere. Quite the opposite of Autumn’s cozy light-filled cottage. Funny, she would have thought Mrs. Wattson would favor lighter colors. Trey certainly did. His aesthetic matched the beach and landscape of Cliffside Bay.

  “This is my secret recipe for pasta sauce,” Jamie said. “Someday, when I have my own restaurant, I’m going to serve it as my main course.”

  “You want to open a restaurant?”

  Jamie looked away, as if embarrassed. Why did women always apologize for wanting something? “My father thinks it’s ridiculous.”

  “People open restaurants all the time.”

  “Yes, but how many are successful?” Jamie asked. “Dear Father loves to say that restaurants are only successful at failing.”

  “Some people love to tell others they’ll fail. It’s a great way to feel better about all the dreams they were too afraid to pursue.”

  Jamie looked up from her pot of sauce and tilted her head slightly. “It’s hard to imagine my father having any dreams other than making money.” She lifted the wooden spoon from the pot and held it midair as if the next thought suddenly occurred to her. “But maybe his dream was to find a woman half his age.” She set the spoon aside and moved from the cooktop to place bot
h hands on the counter. “My poor mom.”

  “I’m sorry,” Autumn said, unable to think of anything else to say.

  “She’s tougher than she looks, though.”

  “Women mostly are.”

  They exchanged a knowing smile.

  “Anyway, it’s not really a restaurant I want. I’d like to create entire experiences for people. I want to open a small inn with only six or so rooms. I’d serve a light breakfast of pastries and scones or whatever. Then, for dinner, I’d have four courses. One of those long dinners where people eat leisurely and don’t care how much butter is in the dishes. I’d have a little library full of books, and guests could hang out in front of the fire and read or chat. Everyone would bring one of their favorite books to leave behind and take one from the library. Oh, and I’d have wine-and-cheese hour at four every day. People would come for the weekend and fall in love or come after they were already in love to spend time together. Or, maybe, coming to my inn would restore relationships or bond families or aid in healing past hurts.” She let out a happy sigh. “Couples could get married in my inn. Or have honeymoons.”

  Autumn found herself mesmerized by this open-faced girl and her dream. “Do you have a location in mind?”

  “Not exactly. I just know I want it to be by the ocean, away from noise and city life. I’d love a Victorian or an old lodge that needs renovation.” She went back to her pot and brought a spoonful of sauce to her mouth for a taste. “Should we open wine?”

  Autumn blinked, surprised by the swift change of subject. “Sure.”

  Jamie went to the wine refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Chablis and used a server’s corkscrew to open it with what looked like a practiced flick of her wrist. The cork slipped from the bottle without making a sound.

  “It’s going to take me forever to make my dream come true. Waitressing barely covers my rent and expenses. The way I’m going, I’ll be eighty by the time I have enough to buy anything.” She poured wine into both glasses.

  “Don’t give up,” Autumn said. “I’ve found that once a person knows what they want, it comes to them. Eventually.”