Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)

chapter Eighteen

Pasha reached for Matthew, but just as her fingers closed over his narrow shoulder, he disappeared into the ground. Then he reappeared, but he was different this time. Instead of Matthew, it was Evan.

Behind him, a moonbow flickered in the sky.

True love will return.

The true love of a mother for her son?

“Miss Pasha, time to wake up, dear.”

She startled at the voice, then stayed very still on the bed, the room dim but for a small green light on something electronic in the distance. A machine hummed somewhere, a soft, lulling sound.

“I know it’s early and you’re probably foggy from the sedatives.”

The nurse’s voice pulled Pasha out of her reverie, but Wanda was so sweet and soft-spoken that she didn’t mind. Her strong hand landed on Pasha’s shoulder, comforting and sure.

“We need to do a bone scan now, love.”

“Mmm.” Pasha drifted away. What time was it? Morning? Evening? She had no idea anymore. It was all sleep and dreams. Dreams about Matthew.

And Evan. That sweet little boy who made her want to live again.

“The drugs make you groggy, don’t they?”

“Not really. I’m just…” What was this feeling? So unusual and unfamiliar. She was… “Happy.”

That was it. She was happy. How strange was that? She still didn’t open her eyes, for fear that the happiness would float away like a soap bubble.

“Drugs can do that, too,” Wanda said with a chuckle, making Pasha picture the nurse’s beautiful chocolate-colored face breaking into a glorious smile. She had lovely teeth and such a warm, natural smile. It made Pasha feel good. Everything made Pasha feel good.

“Very happy.” That had to be Evan’s influence. There was no other explanation.

“Well, that’s nice, Miss Pasha. Not too many people in this situation are happy.”

“Not too many get what I got.” A second chance…with Evan.

“The T-cell gene therapy? You can say that again. There are hundreds of patients trying to see Dr. Bradbury and Dr. Mahesh. Getting on the list for this procedure is like being handed a miracle.”

No, Evan was like being handed a miracle. An eight-year-old miracle and another opportunity to love a little boy.

She barely opened her eyes as she was taken down the hall to another room and put on a new table. Still that didn’t change how happy she felt.

“Don’t move, Pasha,” the nurse said, ever so slightly tightening her grip. “I need to have you right in the perfect place before I start the scan.”

Pasha tried to keep every muscle in her body completely motionless, but one of them refused to cooperate. “Is it okay if I smile, Wanda?”

Another soft chuckle. “I can’t say anyone’s ever asked me that going in for a scan. I think it’s fine if you smile.”

So she did.

“You know, Miss Pasha, you are such an inspiration to me.”

“I am?”

“Absolutely. A positive attitude is the most powerful thing you can bring to this party.” The nurse situated Pasha on the bed and patted her arm. “Is it all the gypsy hoo-hah stuff you were telling me about before? When you looked at the ice in your water and said those two cubes meant two people who were supposed to be together had found each other?”

Pasha nodded. “That’s right, Wanda. You have a good memory.”

“Not like I’d forget something like that. So that’s why you’re smiling? Here—I’m going to lift your head ever so slightly, dear.”

As Wanda’s strong hands slid under Pasha’s neck, a warm, trusting feeling rolled over her. She liked Wanda. She liked everyone right now; she really hadn’t been this happy in years.

And not because she was finally going to die and free her darling Zoe. But because—

“You’ll be having a full blood transfusion in the next few days and I hope you’ll be smiling through that, too.”

“Oh, you never know. I might be smiling.” Heck, she might be laughing by then. Laughing and loving and so happy to be alive. “I’m not afraid of anything anymore.”

The nurse tilted her head, and said, “Let me guess. You love Jesus?”

“Well…” She’d never been particularly religious, so no. Of course, she could lie. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time in her life. “He’s okay.”

“Because the people who are thinking about God are usually the ones who are calm during this part of the whole thing.”

“It’s not Jesus who’s making me happy,” Pasha replied.

“Family?”

“Not exactly. I mean my family, most of it, is gone.”

Wanda nodded knowingly. “So, you think the worst that could happen is Dr. Bradbury fails and you get to see someone you love again, don’t you, dear? Who’s up there? Your husband?”

She looked right into Wanda’s trusting eyes, the trance still carrying her on a cloud, the blood in her veins not boiling in fear for the first time in so, so long. Instead, she felt at peace and certain of everything. So calm and detached and, yet, so happy.

“My son,” she rasped. “My son, Matthew Hobarth, is up there.”

Wanda closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, my dear. Your son. The hardest thing in the world to lose a child, I say. God knows, I’ve seen some mighty miserable parents in here.”

“It hurts,” she agreed.

“I’m going to slide your shoulder a little to the left now. How old was your son when you lost him, Miss Pasha?”

“Seven and a half.”

Wanda gasped softly. “Oh, Lord. So young. I’m very, very sorry to hear that.” She patted Pasha’s shoulder gently. “Was it cancer?”

Pasha took a slow, deep breath, not answering.

“I hope you have lovely memories of him,” Wanda said quietly.

“I do. I think of him laughing, climbing a tree on our last day together, getting a chocolate-milk mustache as a reward, cheering a card game win, finishing a puzzle. No, no that’s not Matthew.” She felt her brows draw into a frown, but, honestly, that effort was more than she had in her right now. “That was Evan,” she finished.

“Evan? You mean Dr. Bradbury’s little boy? He’s something, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. He’s wonderful. He reminds me of Matthew.”

“That’s nice. Evan’s smart like his daddy and…” Wanda laughed softly. “Not really anything like his mother. Which is a good thing.”

Pasha might be in a little bit of a fog, but not so much that she couldn’t recognize an opportunity when it was presented to her. “So why did he marry her?”

Wanda looked surprised by the question. “I surely don’t know Dr. Bradbury’s business,” she said. “But his former wife’s father is a bigwig in the medical community. Now you didn’t hear that from me, Miss Pasha.”

Pasha smiled. “And you didn’t hear about my son from me,” she whispered. “I have secrets, you know.”

“I bet you do,” she replied with a soft laugh. “Now, I need you to hold very still, sweetheart, because this long metal arm is going to pass over your whole body and scan your bones. If you move, we have to do it all again.”

“Okay.”

“Anything you want to get out before we start?” Wanda asked. “You know, another smile, a quick prayer, more secrets?”

“One more secret,” she said, even groggier than when she’d first awakened. “One more,” she mumbled.

“Go right ahead. Your secret is safe with me, darling.”

The trance was starting again, the lulled-to-sleep feeling where there was no pain, no worry, no trouble, no secrets. No secrets. “My name’s not really Pasha,” she whispered.

“Oh?” Wanda had a little smile in her voice, as if she liked this secret. “What is it?”

“Patricia.”

That strong hand patted her again. “Pasha suits you much better. It’s a great nickname.”

“Not a nickname,” she said. Then something sort of broke off in her head, like a branch snapping from a dead tree, needing to be pruned. “And my little boy didn’t die of cancer.”

On her shoulder, Wanda’s hand stilled. “Oh, really.” She sounded like she might be searching for the right thing to say. But what can anyone say? “What happened to him?”

“He was killed.” She wanted that dried old branch gone, forever.

“That’s a—”

“Murdered.”

Wanda’s hand lifted as she let out a slight gasp. “Oh my God, Pasha. That’s awful. I’m so sorry for you.”

“It was awful.” But she had Evan now, and he was every bit as dear and precious as her son.

“Don’t think about that,” Wanda said. “Think about that little boy climbing trees and drinking chocolate milk. And hold still for me, dear. Here comes the arm.”

Pasha drifted off, vaguely aware of that humming again, in her head and in her heart.





When Zoe arrived at the clinic she was braced to see Oliver, but a much younger version greeted her when she walked into Pasha’s room.

“Hello, Evan,” she said when he looked up. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“My dad didn’t want to ask you to babysit since he figured you’d want to spend time here today.”

A little bit of guilt zinged. She had offered to watch him and then done her disappearing act. Although Oliver hadn’t called her all morning, either. So they were both on eggshells.

“Do you know where Pasha is?”

“The nurse said she’s getting tests, then coming back here.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “Wanna play Rat Screws while we wait?”

It was, actually, the last thing she wanted to do. “Sure. Where’s your dad?”

“Meetings, I think.”

She sat down opposite him at the tiny round table by the window, studying the face that was so much like the one that had haunted Zoe’s dreams all night. “Is he going to be here today?”

Evan nodded and started to shuffle, eyeing her as he did.

“What?” she asked after an uncomfortable moment.

“So you and my dad knew each other a long time ago, huh?”

Whoa. She hadn’t seen that one coming. “Very long time ago.”

“Before Mom.”

Actually, after. “More or less.” She gestured toward the cards. “You gonna split that deck, cowboy?”

“I’m counting the cards.”

“With your thumbs?”

He nodded, then split the deck and handed her half. “I can remember what order they come out in, too, so I know if you’ve been through your deck once what the next card will be.”

Her jaw unhinged. “You would be quite valuable in Vegas, you know.”

“That’s what your aunt Pasha said.”

Zoe snorted. “She would.”

“I like her. ’Cept when she calls me Matthew.”

“She does?” Zoe shook her head. “She likes to make up names for people. You can go first.”

He put a card down and Zoe responded with a king, then he slapped down three more cards and the last one was a jack, so Zoe had to put one down. A seven.

“Oh.” She made like she’d been shot. “You get the jack.”

“That’s how you win this game,” Evan announced as he scooped up the pile.

“Sure is.”

“Can I ask you a question, Zoe?” He looked up with eyes so big and deep her heart nearly folded.

What did he want to know? About his father? About their past? She took a deep breath, prepared at least to color the truth if not lie outright to protect this child. “Sure, what do you need to know?”

“It’s kind of, I don’t know, out of line for me to ask.”

“Out of line is my specialty. Fire away.”

He leaned forward. “Would you talk my dad into getting me a dog?”

“Is that Evan I hear?” Pasha’s voice came from the hall, sparing Zoe the answer.

“Hi, Pasha.” Evan popped up from the table, his face bright. When the nurse wheeled her in, Pasha’s expression matched.

An entirely unbidden thought popped into Zoe’s head: What if they really could work this thing out? If Pasha could live and be free, maybe Zoe really could stop running and Evan could stay with them and all four of them could live in a big house together. Forever. Maybe they could have another child, and that dog Evan wanted.

Inside her chest, a pain as palpable as the one Pasha complained of gripped Zoe so hard she couldn’t breathe. She had no right to have fantasies like that, like some kind of fairy—

“Zoe, are you all right, honey?” From her wheelchair, Pasha scowled. “You look worse than I feel.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” She stood quickly to give Pasha a kiss hello. “I’m just…” Dreaming like a fool. “So happy to see you looking bright and chipper.”

“I don’t know how bright I am, but they said all the tests are done for today and now I can rest.” She turned to Evan, putting a hand on his face. “How wonderful to see you, little one.”

He gave a shy smile. “Hi, Pasha.”

“Oh, I know, you’re not little,” she teased. “And I see you brought the cards for us.”

The nurse came around the front of the chair. “I don’t think you’re going to be playing cards, Miss Pasha. Dr. Bradbury has strict rest orders today since the treatment begins tomorrow and you need to sleep.”

Pasha’s shoulders slumped like a disappointed child. “Right away?”

“Well, let’s get you into bed and we’ll see.”

The nurse, Wanda, easily got Pasha into the bed and smoothed the covers. The two of them obviously shared a nice rapport. For the second time in a few minutes, Zoe let contentment and hope roll over her.

“Thank you,” Zoe said to the nurse when she’d finished. “I promise we won’t keep her up too long.”

Wanda cocked her head toward the hall and gave Zoe a look to come out and talk to her. Evan settled into the chair next to the bed, so Zoe gave her aunt another pat on the shoulder.

“One game,” she said sternly. “And no swearing. Either of you.”

They both gave her fake smiles, neither one willing to make a promise they knew they wouldn’t keep. She rolled her eyes and followed Wanda into the hall.

“She really does need to sleep,” the nurse said. “Tomorrow’s a full transfusion and that’s going to really exhaust her.”

“I promise we’ll cut out in a few minutes.” She glanced down the hall, unsure what she should do about Evan. “Is Dr. Bradbury here?”

“He’s looking at the bone-scan results,” she said. “And I can tell you that test gave us some excellent news.”

“Really?”

She nodded, her dark eyes dancing. “This is unofficial, but I can tell you that scan showed no cancer in the bone.”

“Was there a chance of that?”

“There’s always a chance of that. The reason it’s good in this case is because they can focus on the soft tissues. I know you have other oncologists giving outside opinions on the test results, but assuming they agree, there’s going to be a T-cell transfusion here tomorrow.” She reached for Zoe’s arm. “That’s historic and exciting for all of us. Thank you for giving us this chance.”

Zoe took the nurse’s hand. “Thank you for being so kind to her and making her comfortable. It’s made everything so much easier.”

“Oh, I haven’t done much,” Wanda said. “She really has a good attitude.”

Some laughter came from the room, reminding Zoe that Evan had a lot to do with Pasha’s change in attitude.

“You can’t underestimate how important that is,” the nurse continued. “Especially after what she’s been through, it’s understandable.”

Had Pasha told this nurse what she’d been through? Impossible. “You mean collapsing and going to the ER the other night?”

“She told me everything.”

“Everything?”

Wanda waved her hand. “Don’t be shocked. People tell me stuff all the time. I think it’s the combination of the dark test room and the lorazepam. That stuff’s like truth serum. No surprise she’d mention her son.”

“Her son?” Zoe had to be sure she’d heard that right.

“Well, I guess he’d be your uncle, if she’s your great-aunt.”

But she’s not my great-aunt. “My…uncle?”

“She said he died when he was seven, so obviously you never knew him but, oh, what a tragedy. It’s no wonder sometimes she wants to end it all and be with him, but today she seemed quite happy about being alive.”

Zoe had no idea what the nurse was talking about. “He died when he was seven?” she asked.

Wanda gave her big eyes. “And how awful that he was murdered.”

Murdered? For a second it felt like the world slipped away and left Zoe behind. All she could hear was the sheriff’s words.

But she was cleared of that murder.

He’d been talking about another Patricia Hobarth. Hadn’t he? Cold trickled through her veins.

“Don’t look so stricken, honey. The drugs bring out all the skeletons.” Wanda patted her arm. “Really, don’t worry. Secrets are safe with me. I won’t even remind her that she told me her real name is Patricia.”

All the happiness and hope started to seep out of the balloon that she’d dared let fill her chest.

“Zoe, there you are.”

She turned to see Oliver’s masculine silhouette moving down the hall, backlit by the window streaming morning light. Another wave of dizziness threatened, but this one was more primal and feminine, caused by the width of his shoulders, the certainty in his stride.

“Hey.” It was all she could manage in the face of the onslaught.

He reached her and gave a slight, secret smile. Had he forgiven her for disappearing last night? Hell, had she forgiven herself for the little temper tantrum? She’d certainly suffered for it overnight.

From the looks of his face, he hadn’t suffered at all.

“I bet Wanda told you the good news.”

Wanda laughed as she walked away. “I’m lousy with a secret.”

Then would she be spreading the news about…Pasha’s son?

“We’ll progress with the transfusion as soon as the oncologist reports are in.” Oliver reached to touch her shoulder. “You okay?”

“I am,” she finally said, forcing a smile. “I’m…I’m really sorry,” she said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have left.”

He angled his head, a rare look of uncertainty on his face—rare at least in these surroundings, where he never looked less than sure of everything.

“I freaked out,” she admitted before he could answer. “It was really intense and I—”

Evan stepped into the hallway, interrupting the conversation. “She’s asleep!” He announced, devastated.

“That’s what we want, son,” Oliver told him. “I’ve given her something to keep her resting today. Tomorrow’s going to be the biggest day of her life.” He turned to Zoe, a spark of warmth in his eyes. “First day of the rest of it, I hope.”

“What should I do, Dad?”

Zoe knew what she wanted to do. Internet searches for…the truth.

“Well, I guess you could hang around here or…” Oliver gave a beseeching look to Zoe.

She pulled herself together and looked down at the little boy. The one Pasha called Matthew. She had to know more about what that nurse had told her.

“You know what?” Oliver said suddenly. “I’ve put everything aside for Pasha today and we’re ready to roll tomorrow.” He put an arm around Zoe and reached for Evan’s hand. “Let’s do something together.”

Oh, the fantasy balloon was inflating again, damn it.

“Like what, Dad?”

“Anything you want,” Oliver replied.

Evan looked up at Zoe with a longing so clear she could practically hear him barking his plea to her: Tell him I want a dog!

Zoe inched back, shaking her head. “You two go off and have a father-and-son day. I’ve got…stuff to do.”

Disappointment flickered in Oliver’s eyes. Of course he thought she was running away, bailing before things got too stable and steady.

But that wasn’t true. Still, she couldn’t tell him. Not until she knew more.

“You go.” She eased away, toward the door. “I’m going to whisper good-bye to Pasha.” She escaped before either one could argue, slipping into the room where Pasha slept.

She hesitated for a second, then walked to the bed, taking in the peaceful countenance of a woman she thought she knew.

Pasha wasn’t capable of murder; Zoe would bet her life on that.

But then, hadn’t Zoe bet her life on everything Pasha said and did? Hadn’t she let this woman make every call and dictate every move and insist on a lifetime of lying?

Had Pasha given up everything for Zoe, or had Zoe given up everything for her? Everything.

The fairy tale. The family. The love of a good man. Everything.

What was she doing? Oliver was offering it to her again. And her answer? To run, of course. Maybe she thought she was running to smooth out this new wrinkle—whatever it was, however it affected them—but she was running nonetheless.

Damn it. When would she stop? When would she run to something wonderful instead of away?

With one last glance at Pasha, Zoe spun around and darted to the door, looking down the hall to catch that same silhouette and a much smaller one right next to it.

“Oliver! Evan!”

They both turned.

“Wait for me!”