Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)

chapter Thirteen



Doctor Bradbury was a godsend in a crisis. During the blur that was the next hour—two?—Oliver handled everything. Everything. With calm, unquestioned authority, not the least bit ruffled by a life-and-death situation.

He took the phone and talked to the sheriff, helped Zoe dress, called Tessa to come and stay with Evan, talked to a doctor in the ER at North Naples Hospital, and, through it all, he stayed completely calm as he drove them over the causeway.

Zoe, on the other hand, was a wreck, with two words echoing through her head the whole time Oliver dealt with one thing after another: She left. She left. She left.

Pasha had packed the f*cking panic bag and left, only to collapse in the parking lot of the Super Min and be found by the night clerk, Gloria Vail, who happened to work during the day at the Casa Blanca salon and also happened to be dating Deputy Garrison.

Gloria recognized Pasha and called Tessa and got Zoe’s cell number.

Otherwise, Zoe might never have learned where Pasha was until she got home and discovered her missing and then called every hospital and law-enforcement agency in the county.

She had to remember to thank Gloria for calling the sheriff.

Now if that wasn’t irony, what was? Thanking someone for doing what Pasha and Zoe had been actively avoiding for twenty-five years.

At the hospital they wouldn’t let Zoe see Pasha. When the desk clerk had asked for insurance, identification, and other normal information that abnormal Zoe didn’t have, Oliver had swooped in once again, promising to handle it—how?—and demanding that Zoe sit in a waiting room to wait.

And there she stayed, in a blue leather chair that stuck to her bare legs, staring at a TV with no sound and vaguely aware that people walked by while her world crumbled into a million pieces.

“Hey.”

Zoe jumped at the greeting, yanked from her miserable meditation to see Tessa and Jocelyn hustling down the hall toward her. Even in T-shirt and jeans, Jocelyn looked completely collected, her dark hair pulled back in a smooth ponytail. Tessa didn’t look quite so together, but they had gotten her up from a sound sleep to stay with Oliver’s son.

“Where’s Evan?” Zoe asked, standing up to meet them.

“He woke up and I took him to Lacey and Clay’s house. She was up anyway with the baby, and we wanted to come and be with you.” Tessa handed her a plastic supermarket bag. “I happened to notice you were next to naked and thought you might want something to wear.”

Zoe nodded thanks and gave them both quick hugs.

“You okay?” Jocelyn asked, a gentle hand on Zoe’s face. “ ’Cause you look like hell on a stick.”

“I am hell on a stick. She ran away!” The words tumbled out on a sob.

“Why would she do that? Was she trying to find you?” Tessa asked.

“My father has run away,” Jocelyn said.

“But he has dementia,” Tessa replied. “Pasha has…”

All three of them were quiet, almost refusing to say the word.

“Cancer,” Jocelyn finally said. “She has cancer and now she’s going to get help. She can’t fight you on it, no matter what her reasons.”

Tessa looked hard at Zoe, the silent question all over her face. What are her reasons? “Why do you think she ran away, Zoe?” she asked instead.

Zoe fell back into her chair, the leather still warm. The girls bookended her in the chairs on either side, both instantly grabbing Zoe’s hands.

Zoe gave them both a death grip. “I don’t…” She swallowed the standard response—also known as a lie. “She ran away because she doesn’t want…” No, that was another lie. She hadn’t run from doctors and the opportunity to be cured; she’d run from reality. She ran away… “So I can have a normal life.”

They both stared at her.

Zoe closed her eyes, the lids burning with exhaustion and stress and fear. And probably some tears.

Her friends were going to be so hurt. So mad. So insulted that they hadn’t been close enough to be trusted. Especially secret-averse Tessa.

“What are you talking about, Zoe?” Tessa asked.

“I haven’t told you…everything.” Zoe couldn’t take her gaze from Tessa’s, hoping the depth and sincerity of her apology was coming through. But, judging from the look of abject misery on Tessa’s face, Zoe was failing.

“Zoe,” Jocelyn said again, adding a squeeze.

Zoe ignored her, still looking at Tessa. It wasn’t Jocelyn who worried her, frankly. She’d hid enough of her own past from them that she’d be the most understanding of the friends. But Tessa, oh, Tessa. She’d only asked for honesty and Zoe had withheld it for all these years.

It was time.

“Zoe, look.” Jocelyn yanked her hand, and finally Zoe turned, her gaze snagged by a man in forest green walking toward them. With a big bad mother-effer of a gun on his hip and a Lee County sheriff’s badge on a sizable chest. “I think Deputy Garrison wants to see you.”

Zoe instantly recognized the buff build and sandy hair of the young deputy sheriff who was such a presence around Mimosa Key.

“Ms. Tamarin.” He nodded.

Slowly Zoe stood, her heart walloping her ribs. So this was it—the moment she’d dreaded for as long as she could remember.

“Deputy Garrison.” She reached out her hand to shake his. “Thank you very much for taking care of my…of Pasha.”

“I’m wondering if you could help me with some paperwork, ma’am. She didn’t have any identification and I have to fill out some forms. Did you bring her license?”

“She doesn’t drive.” Or have a shred of legitimate identification.

“Can you give me her social and permanent address?”

“Actually, I don’t know them.” Because they don’t exist.

“How about a birthday and place of birth so we can plug that into our system?”

And find nothing? Zoe shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t, Deputy.”

He frowned a little. “Then we do have a problem because—”

“What exactly is the problem, Sheriff?”

Zoe whipped around at the velvety, powerful sound of Oliver’s voice, her heart vaulting to her throat at the sight of him in scrubs. Had he operated on Pasha? Treated her?

“How is she?” Zoe asked, the sheriff momentarily forgotten.

He nodded, reaching out a hand to her. “I’ll tell you in a minute. I’m Dr. Oliver Bradbury,” he said to the sheriff. “Pasha Tamarin is a patient of my private practice. I’m on staff at this hospital. We’ll get the paperwork to you tomorrow, Sheriff. Ms. Tamarin needs to see her aunt now.”

Slade nodded. “I understand that, but I need to get something into the system as far as identification. Can you tell me her full, legal name?”

For a long moment no one said a word. Zoe was aware of Jocelyn and Tessa just a few feet away, frozen in uncertainty. And Oliver, clearly waiting for her to…stop running.

“Her name is…” Zoe swallowed and looked at Oliver, seeing the silent plea in his eyes but hearing another in her head.

Don’t do it, Zoe. Run. Lie. Keep that pillow over your head and imagine. Float away from this moment.

Not this time.

“Her name is Patricia Hobarth,” she said softly. “And as soon as I know she’s going to survive this, I’ll tell you everything else you need to know.”

Slade looked satisfied with that, stepping aside to let her get to Oliver, who reached out and pulled her into his chest with a full-body embrace. “That’s my girl.”

Was she his girl? Well, they were certainly a step closer to that, weren’t they? “How is Pasha?”

“Come on. I’ll take you to her.”





Zoe stood in the doorway of Pasha’s room for a few minutes, holding on to Oliver’s arm as she watched a nurse change an IV bag. Pasha looked as tiny as a child, pale and frighteningly close to death.

“What exactly happened?” she asked Oliver.

“Extremely high fever, severe fatigue, and indigestion. We’ve got those symptoms under control, but now we have to treat the cause.”

“Cancer?”

“Tests will confirm what I already know but, yes. Esophageal cancer, advanced.” He put his hand on her back, strong and sure. “We should do the gene therapy, and fast, Zoe.”

Hope. She dug deep into her heart and grabbed it with two hands. But it felt so damn slippery. “Okay.”

The nurse finished and gave Zoe a nod. “She’s awake,” she said, “but there’s some antianxiety and a sedative in that IV so she’ll crash soon. She might not be completely lucid or remember this conversation, but you can talk to her.”

“Thanks.” Zoe headed to Pasha’s bedside, aching to reach out and hold her. “Hey, Auntie,” she whispered, putting a hand on her narrow shoulder. “You in there, sweetie?”

Her wrinkly eyelids fluttered.

“It’s me, your little one,” Zoe said, using the age-old nickname.

Pasha smiled just enough to give Zoe’s heart a joyride. “How is my little one?” Pasha asked.

“I’m fine.”

Her eyes opened, foggy and distant, but open. “No, my little boy. Matthew.”

“Evan,” she corrected. “He’s fine, too.” Zoe leaned closer, trying not to reprimand and scold the old woman for running. “You’re going to be fine, too, Aunt Pasha.”

Brown eyes slid to capture Zoe’s gaze. “I was arrested,” she whispered.

“No, you weren’t. You collapsed in a convenience-store parking lot, which, by the way, you shouldn’t have been in”—she couldn’t resist a little reprimand—“and the sheriff got you to the hospital.”

“I told him I was innocent.”

“Don’t worry about it now, Pasha. Oliver’s here and he’s going to take care of you. As soon as you’re stronger, we’ll move you to his clinic and start the treatment to get you on the road to recovery.”

“Zoe…” She struggled for a breath. “Don’t believe what they say.”

What who say? “I don’t believe anything,” she said, placating her. “Just get better, okay?”

“I mean it.” Her eyes cleared for a moment, like the fog had lifted, then it descended again. “They’re going to tell you things and, I swear, Zoe, I swear to you, I didn’t do anything to hurt anyone.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Pasha really was foggy, and since she was sedated and wouldn’t remember the conversation, Zoe added, “And I started the process of making sure you can live the rest of your life in the open and free.”

Pasha’s dark eyes flashed. “What?”

“Don’t worry.” The words sounded hollow, but she did her best to infuse them with hope. Oliver was right. This was the right thing to do. “I promise you, Pasha. No judge or jury is going to put you behind bars for saving a little girl and getting her away from a dangerous situation. I’ll fight to the end for you.” She squeezed Pasha’s shoulder, trying to transmit the fire in her own veins to Pasha’s.

“They might try, though,” Pasha said. “They did before.”

“No, no.” She was confused. “No one did before.”

“The mistrial was right, Zoe,” she rasped.

The what? “Miss who?”

She closed her eyes. “I’m innocent, little one. I’m innocent.”

“I know you are, Aunt Pasha. You did what you thought was right and it was right. You saved me. Please. Now isn’t the time—”

“If only I could prove that.”

“I can prove it,” Zoe said. “I remember what happened and what he did.”

“So does he.”

“Pasha, that man is dead.”

But Pasha shook her head and then let out a long, slow breath. Her eyes closed as if they weighed too much for her to battle any longer.

Zoe sensed Oliver approaching. “I think she’s asleep now,” she whispered.

“I’m not asleep.”

Zoe startled, turning back to Pasha. “You should be,” she said. “You need sleep.”

Pasha’s eyes opened and her gaze shifted to Oliver. “I always liked you,” she said softly.

He smiled. “I like you, too, Pasha.”

“Because you loved Zoe. I could tell.”

He nodded.

“She’s really not lucid,” Zoe said quickly.

“If I weren’t here…” Pasha tried to lift her shoulder.

“Shhh.” Zoe hushed her by moving closer. “You are here and you are going to be here for a long time. Oliver’s going to see to that.”

“I will,” he promised.

Pasha made a small groan. “I tried to leave.”

“You failed, thank God,” Zoe said.

“No, I mean I tried to leave back in Corpus Christi.”

“You succeeded in that.” Zoe leaned over and kissed her cheek. “And I’m eternally grateful. Go to sleep.”

Pasha closed her eyes and they waited a moment, and then stepped away from the bed. As they reached the door, Pasha called out, “Zoe?”

“I’m going to go out in the hall now, Aunt Pasha. You go to sleep.”

“You believe I’m innocent, don’t you? No matter what they say?”

She gave a look to Oliver, who mouthed, “Strong sedative.”

Zoe nodded. “I believe you, sweetie. Go to sleep.”

“Because it was a mis…”

Zoe waited for her to finish, but the drugs hit home, and Pasha fell asleep.