CHAPTER THIRTY

C HAPTER T HIRTY

Shannon, Trey, and Mac headed back home after the spaghetti fundraiser. Nobody said a word. Everyone except the Alcozars and the Leavitts had stayed to help clean and put everything away. Jason and Trey had worked as a team, taking the canopies down and putting away folding tables. Somebody had called a taxi to take Wesley to the hotel where he was staying. They never did get the chance to celebrate Holly raising a record amount of money for a good cause.

Once they were inside the house, Mac told them she was going upstairs to take a long, hot shower.

“Wine?” Trey asked Shannon. She nodded. He filled two glasses, and they carried their wine out to the back patio and took a seat overlooking a well-manicured lawn bordered by colorful flowers. It was only the second time she and Trey had sat in their backyard together. Shannon’s body ached. She felt as if she’d spent the day weeding.

Trey released a heavy sigh before saying, “I think it’s in our best interest to put the house up for sale and find somewhere else to live.”

Shannon shook her head.

“Don’t you?” Trey frowned. “Our daughter has been hanging out with a murderer.”

“Blake did not kill Rosella.”

“How do you know that?”

“I guess I don’t, but I feel it in my bones. I don’t think Ridley had anything to do with it, either.”

“Intuition can only take you so far.”

“I understand, but he’s a sweet, charming kid.”

“Didn’t someone say that about Jeffrey Dahmer, too?”

“Nobody ever called Dahmer sweet. Blake comes across as genuine. He reminds me a lot of our daughter.”

Trey shook his head. “Don’t do this, Shannon. I like the kid, too, but—”

“You’ve never met him. And besides, my fingerprints were also on the murder weapon. So were Holly’s, which is why they arrested her for a hot minute.”

“Okay. You’re right,” Trey said. “We’ll wait and see what happens. But you have to admit nobody on this block likes anyone else.”

Over the years, Shannon had tended to listen to Trey but keep quiet about stuff she thought might get her husband riled. That was on her, though, not him. It all needed to change. Since moving here and meeting Rosella and the other women on the block, including Peggy Chandler, who seemed at ease with speaking her mind, Shannon wasn’t in the mood to keep her thoughts to herself. It was way past time she started sharing her observations and opinions.

“I think you’re wrong about our neighbors. They have formed strong bonds and friendships over the years. I do believe the block as a whole is struggling right now, what with everything going on.” Shannon sipped her wine. “The residents seem to be acting more like squabbling siblings than neighbors, because they truly care about one another.”

He pointed in the direction of the front of their house, where the fundraiser had taken place. “That’s what you call caring? Everyone attacking each other, everyone happy about the death of Rosella Marlow?”

“What I saw out there was everyone coming together to support Holly and her fundraiser.” Shannon set her glass on the table. “And in case you didn’t know, our neighbors weren’t the only people who didn’t like Rosella. Google her name and you’ll find a large number of people who despised her.”

Trey said nothing, but she could tell he didn’t agree with a word she was saying.

“Did I ever tell you what Rosella said about all men, including you, being cheaters?”

“She didn’t know me. I never met Rosella.”

Shannon shrugged. “Rosella didn’t care. You were a good-looking doctor, so it was bound to happen.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think I’ve been holding in too much, and I need to get it all out.” Telling him that, letting him know she’d been suppressing her feelings, made her feel empowered. Her husband was someone she loved and trusted. She should have opened up to him a long time ago.

“Okay,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I’ve never cheated on you. Never would cheat on you because I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Anything else?” Trey asked. “You can tell me, Shannon. I’m here for you. I always have been.”

“Did you know that when I was twenty, I reached out to the Sierra Adoption Agency to see if my bio mom would be interested in meeting with me?”

“No. You never told me.”

“You’re right. I never did, and I should have. Opening up about my past has always made me uncomfortable and even ashamed.”

“I had no idea you’ve been struggling. Keeping it all bottled up inside can’t be good for you. What happened to you as a child was beyond your control. You didn’t choose to be given up for adoption, and it’s not your fault.”

“Thank you. I never wanted to burden you with my problems.”

“I want you to always feel comfortable enough to share anything at all with me.”

She nodded, her heart filling with gratitude.

“Did your bio mom ever respond?” Trey asked.

“Two weeks after I had gotten in touch, I received a letter from the agency letting me know she wasn’t interested in meeting me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled, but it was strained. “I’ll be okay. I feel better now that I’ve told you.”

“I’m glad.”

“I’ve never felt a connection to anyone other than you and Mac. But something strange happened when we moved here to the Fab Forties.” Shannon placed a hand over her heart. “Something clicked, and I felt an instant connection with this place and these women.”

“Don’t you think maybe you’re being naive?” Trey asked.

“Why do you say that?”

He sipped his wine, his gaze set on hers. “These people are not your friends. You can’t trust them because you don’t even know them.”

“Says the man who asked me to marry him within twenty-four hours of meeting me.” Effective communication took work, and in this moment, humor came easily. If she was going to open up to him, she knew she might not always get the reaction she desired.

“That was different.”

Shannon smiled. “Maybe. But these people have made me feel welcomed and accepted. I already feel a strong sense of community.” She reached over and touched his arm. “We have been married for twenty-two years, and yet sometimes I think you are the one who doesn’t know me.”

“Believe me,” Trey said. “I know you.”

“If you did, if you listened to the things I have shared with you in the past, then you might understand why I could feel a connection to these women, even in such a short time.”

“I get it. You didn’t have biological parents or siblings. But you had the Fergusons, and they loved you.”

“Mr. Ferguson wanted to get rid of me the minute his wife died. He became someone else altogether. I had to lock my door at night to keep him out of my room.” She tried not to think about Mr. Ferguson, but when she did, she felt a tightening in the muscles of her shoulders and neck.

“You said he never touched you.”

“I told you he never raped me.” She allowed the fear and shame to rise up from her chest and travel through her body before dissipating.

“You’re right,” Trey said. “I should have asked more questions. I do feel uncomfortable talking about your past at times because I can’t do anything to fix it.”

“I appreciate you telling me,” Shannon said, a weight lifting from her shoulders. “Mr. Ferguson wasn’t a good man. I never felt safe, but we don’t need to discuss it again.”

“No. I want you to be able to talk to me.”

A tremendous wave of hope swept over her. “I want that, too,” she said. “I know you’ve always worked hard to make a good life for our family. You continue to work long hours. But we have both made sacrifices. You know that, right?”

“Do you know how many women would give a limb to be you?” Trey asked. “To get to stay at home with their child? To live in a luxurious house in a fabulous area? I moved here because you asked me to. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

His words hit a nerve. They had been doing so well, too. She had a feeling his frustrations stemmed from being unable to make her past traumas disappear like a snowflake that evaporated the second it made contact with the ground. Either way, she couldn’t let it go without a response. If they were going to communicate at a deeper level, they needed to say how they felt.

“Do you know how many men would give a limb to be you?” she asked. “To have a wife who appreciates her husband and who was willing to give up a career to raise their daughter? A wife who works to make everything nice for when he comes home after a hard day’s work?”

“Come on,” Trey said. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well, I did. You’re a revisionist,” Shannon said, feeling good about getting everything out in the open. “When I first met Rosella, I asked you if you would be open to looking at properties in the area. You said no. It wasn’t until you got the job offer at Sutter Hospital that you agreed to move.”

“And your point being?”

“You didn’t move here solely for my benefit.”

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I don’t want to fight, either. I just want you to understand me. To know what it feels like to be missing that parental connection, to know you are loved unconditionally, no matter what.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him. “Hear me out. Please.”

He clamped his mouth shut, impatience scrawled all over his face.

“You have two parents who have loved and supported you since the day you were born,” Shannon reminded him. “The only thing they didn’t like about you ... was me . They thought you deserved better because they knew I was broken.”

He said nothing. Probably because he knew it was true.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to grow up alone ... completely alone? Some foster homes—at least I’ve heard—are wonderful, filled with kind and loving people who want to help children like me. But whether you want to believe it or not, there is a dark side to foster care. The foster homes I ended up in were operated by greedy people who were looking for a way to cash in each month. Some of them wanted a cook, a laundress, someone who could help keep the house tidy or keep an eye on their younger kids. Before I was adopted by the Fergusons, I spent the first thirteen years of my life being abused and neglected. I never felt safe. I certainly never felt loved. Not until I met you.”

He set his glass on the table, got to his feet, and held his hands out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t stop a lone tear from falling. “It’s not all your fault—the miscommunication. There were many times when I could have opened up to you but didn’t. I should have tried harder to communicate what I was feeling.”

“I wish I could wave a magic wand and make everything better for you,” Trey said, “but I can’t. You need to agree to tell me when you’re feeling abandoned or unseen. I also want to acknowledge your trauma.”

The tears were falling now. Talking about her past and knowing she had his support was overwhelmingly cathartic.

“I wish my parents hadn’t been so hard on you and that they saw what I saw and still see. I don’t want anyone but you. And you’re right. I’m the lucky one out of the two of us.” He held her close enough for her to feel the beat of his heart. “I’m also glad you feel a weird connection to this place and these women.”

“It’s not weird,” she said with a lighthearted laugh.

He chuckled. “Okay. You’re right. And no more talk about moving. Not unless Jason Abbott touches me again.”

She held him close, glad she’d found the courage to finally open up. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”