Just the Way You Are Barbara Freethy Read Online Free

Prologue

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"
A
re you ready to go for a sail?" John MacGuire asked his married woman. A young, handsome man, he stood on the edge of a wide sandy beach, wearing summertime shorts and his favorite T-shirt. He pointed toward the water behind him, to the sailboat that bobbed gently in the quiet bay. "It'south the perfect day."

"I tin't sail. I'm sick. I don't know what happened, simply I can't seem to open up my eyes." Phoebe MacGuire took a quick jiff every bit panic filled her soul. "I'm seventy-half dozen years old at present, John. How did I get to be and then old? I'm scared."

"No need to exist scared, my darling, not when I'm here."

"But you're not actually here."

"I miss you, Phoebe," he said softly, his vocalisation as gentle as the morning time cakewalk.

"I miss you, too. Zip has been the aforementioned since you died. You were the i who kept the family together. It was you, your forcefulness, your vision. Without you, we fell autonomously. Alli and Tessa are strangers now, and I don't know how to bring them dorsum together."

"Do you still accept the pearls, Phoebe?"

"Of form I exercise."

"Exercise yous remember the 1 we found on our get-go ceremony? That'due south when we discovered you were significant. And so nosotros had a son, and later on granddaughters, and nosotros taught them to honey the body of water, to cherish the family, and to treasure the pearls for the force that they gave united states each year to go on, to live life to its fullest, to complete the circle."

"But we didn't complete information technology," she said in despair. "Because yous died. You left me."

"It was my time, Phoebe, but you must cease the necklace now. The pearls weren't meant to just exist a symbol of our honey, but of our family unit, our force, our unity. The pearls are nothing on their ain. Merely together in a strand, they are everything. It is the lesson we must teach Alli and Tessa." He paused, his expression as tender as a sweet blooming rose. "I wish for our girls a honey as deep and every bit satisfying as the ane nosotros share."

"I want the same matter." But as his prototype faded away, Phoebe wondered if even the perfect pearl could salve Alli and Tessa from themselves.

Chapter 1

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"
D
addy, did y'all always love Mommy?"

Allison Tucker caught her breath at the simple, heartfelt question that had come from her eight-year-erstwhile girl's lips. She took a pace back from the doorway and leaned against the wall, her heart racing in apprehension of the answer. She'd thought she'd explained the separation to her daughter, simply Megan nonetheless had questions, and this time information technology was up to Sam to answer.

Sam cleared his throat, apparently stalling for fourth dimension. For the life of her, Alli couldn't move away. She hadn't intended to eavesdrop, merely when she'd arrived to pick up Megan afterward her weekend with her male parent, she had been defenseless past the cozy scene in the family unit room.

Sam sat in the brown leather reclining chair looking endearingly handsome in his faded blue jeans and navy-bluish rugby shirt. Megan was on his lap, her blond pilus a mess in mismatched braids, her clothes virtually exactly the same as Sam'south, faded blue jeans and a navy-blueish T-shirt. Megan adored dressing like her father.

"Did I show you the moving-picture show of Mommy when she dressed up like a giant pumpkin for the Halloween dance?" Sam asked, obviously trying to alter the subject.

They were looking at a yearbook, Alli realized with dismay. There weren't just pictures of Sam and Alli in the yearbook, there were other people in there, too.

"Did yous, Daddy? Did y'all ever love Mommy?" Megan persisted.

Answer the question, Sam. Tell her yous never really loved me, that you only married me because I was pregnant, that your heart still belongs to—my sister.

Alli held her breath, waiting for Sam'due south answer, knowing the bitter truth merely wondering, hopelessly, impossibly wondering…

"I love your mother very much—for giving me you lot," Sam replied.

Alli closed her eyes against a rush of emotion. It wasn't an answer, but an evasion. She didn't know why she felt fifty-fifty the tiniest bit of surprise. Sam would never admit to loving her. She couldn't remember ever hearing those three elementary words cross his lips, not even after Megan's birth. Or later on, in the days and weeks and years that followed, not even when they made love, when they shared a passion that was perhaps the simply honest function of their relationship. Sam always held a part of himself back, a portion of his heart and his soul that he would never give to her.

Alli clenched her fists, wanting to feel anger, not pain. She'd spent more half of her 20-seven years in honey with Sam Tucker, only he didn't beloved her, and he never would.

She'd lived in a dream, ignoring all the signs of disinterest, Sam's long hours running his family's charter gunkhole business, and his want to limit their family to the one kid who bound them together.

Alli had told herself lie after lie—that Sam would modify, that he would of a sudden see her for who she was, that he would desire another baby. Even now, a deep ache echoed through her soul at the thought of never having another child with the man she loved, but she could no longer live in a fantasy world.

The terminal straw came three months ago when it had become startlingly articulate that Sam nevertheless held hopes of being with her sister. The realization that, despite years of trying to be the best married woman, the best female parent, the best woman she could be, Sam still loved Tessa had driven Alli to do the unthinkable—to enquire for a separation.

Sam had been shocked, and no wonder. She'd chased after him forever. But no more than. She couldn't keep loving someone who didn't love her dorsum. Could she?

The fiddling incertitude ran through Alli's listen, her center all the same contesting her brain. She'd ever acted on her emotions, forgetting about logic. Fifty-fifty her seduction of Sam all those years agone hadn't come from a main plan. It had been more than like a criminal offense of opportunity. And she'd paid for it a g times over.

Alli let out a sigh. She'd done and then many things wrong, taking forever to grow up, equally her grandmother was fond of telling her. Her biggest guilt came from putting Megan in the eye of her battle with Sam, but in that location was no way to avoid it. Megan had always been in the eye. And she e'er would be.

"Damn," Alli muttered as tears filled her eyes. She ruthlessly rubbed them abroad. She had to let go of the past and focus on the future. Making sure her daughter had a wonderful loving relationship with her begetter was her primary business organisation. In the long run, Alli could only promise that it would exist better for Megan to grow upwardly in two peaceful homes than in one unhappy one.

Taking a deep breath, Alli smoothed down the sides of her brusque-sleeve emerald-green dress, the first new outfit she'd bought in years. It was tighter than she would have liked, but married life and childbirth had only encouraged her naturally curvy tendencies. She took solace in the fact that she still looked better than she had in ages, and at that place was a small-scale part of her, make that a large role of her, that couldn't help hoping Sam would be floored by her new look.

Clearing her throat with purpose and determination, she entered the family room and said, "Howdy."

Sam looked at her, his lite blue eyes filled with badgerer. "You're early," he said. "You said seven-xxx, and it'southward merely half-dozen. Megan and I were planning to have a pizza."

"I'm sorry." She knew his frustration covered pain. Sam might not miss her at all, but he did miss his daughter.

"This is
our
time together," Sam reminded her.

"I know." Alli tried not to experience anything for the man, but his physical presence had always overwhelmed her. A rugged, outdoor human being, Sam had sun-streaked chocolate-brown hair that was always windswept, never styled. His face up was perpetually sunburned. His body was lean and fit, his fingers and palms callused from working his boats. She could still remember the manner his fingers felt globe-trotting down the side of her cheeks, her breasts…

She drew in a quick breath and looked out the window at the storm clouds about to descend on Tucker's Landing, 1 of the small seaside towns along the southern Oregon declension. Although information technology was belatedly June, the weather was still unpredictable, and on days similar today, summer seemed far away.

"It'due south starting to rain," she said. "The forecast said maybe an inch or more. I didn't want to get caught in the storm. You know I hate to drive in the rain."

Sam tightened his concord on Megan, equally if Alli were attempting to steal his dearest possession. But she wasn't a thief; she was Megan's female parent. Turning her attending to Megan, Alli could meet that her daughter felt torn between them. Megan's blueish eyes were worried, her rima oris slightly pouty as she chewed nervously on the end of her braid. The last thing Alli wanted to do was make Megan feel like a wishbone, merely sometimes it seemed impossible to avoid. They both loved Megan so very much.

"I'll bring her home at seven-xxx," Sam said.

"That's in an hour and a half."

"Exactly. And it's my 60 minutes and a one-half."

She sighed. "Come on, Sam. It's been a long day."

"Mayhap Mommy could have pizza with us," Megan suggested. She put her minor easily on Sam's face up and then he couldn't look away from her and gazed at him with brilliant, eager blue eyes. "Please."

Sam's rima oris prepare into a hard line. "I suppose. If she wants to."

Megan looked at Alli, drilling her with the same relentless gaze.

Alli hesitated, knowing the terminal thing Sam wanted her to do was stick around. Merely she hated to disappoint Megan over something so small.

"I could stay, I approximate." She glanced at Sam. "Are you sure it'south all correct with you lot?"

"Does information technology matter?" He didn't expect her in the eye. Sometimes she thought he went out of his fashion to avoid looking at her. Maybe she did the same thing. It was easier to keep the distance between them.

Sam gently urged Megan out of his lap and rose to his feet. "I'll phone call Nina's. The usual?"

Why was information technology always the elementary words, the familiar memories that injure the most? "The usual," she agreed.

Sam walked over to the desk and picked up the phone. While he dialed the number for the pizza parlor, Megan handed Alli the high school yearbook.

"Daddy showed me your picture," Megan said. "You
were really pretty, Mommy."

Alli stared downward at her sophomore photograph. She'd been trying to abound her pilus out, to exist more similar Tessa. But where her sister'due south thick, wavy blond pilus grew like a weed, Alli's own copper-colored cap never quite made information technology by her shoulders, and was so thin and fine it almost seemed to disappear. One time, a very long fourth dimension ago, Sam had told her that her pilus was similar silk, and she'd thought, foolishly of course, that he'd found something nearly her that he liked better than Tessa.

Alli slammed the book close. Megan looked at her in surprise.

"What's wrong, Mommy?"

"Cypher." She forced a smile on her face. "What did y'all practice today?"

"We waxed the hot rod."

"Of course," Alli said. Considering side by side to his business concern, waxing his 1955 red Thunderbird was Sam's favorite pastime. She wouldn't have minded so much if the damn machine hadn't been just another reminder of Sam and Tessa. In her mind's center she could still come across the two of them tooling effectually town in it.

"Practice yous want to run across it?" Megan asked.

"The motorcar?" Alli asked in defoliation.

"No, the affair I made yous. Weren't you listening, Mommy?"

"I'd dear to, honey."

"I'll become it." Megan ran out of the room, and Alli walked over to the bookcase and stuck the yearbook in a dark corner where she hoped it wouldn't be discovered for another decade.

As her gaze traveled effectually the familiar room, she realized that Sam had done some cleaning, made some changes since he'd moved back into his family home and his parents had retired to Arizona. His father'south pipe no longer saturday in the ashtray on the desk-bound. The iii-foot-high pile of fishing magazines had been tossed in a big open box along with some other knickknacks—obviously destined for storage.

The changes made her experience uncomfortable. The thought that Sam was finally accepting that this was his dwelling house bothered her more she cared to admit. That he was changing the house to fit him equally a man instead of a child was odd, too. This house had been a role of her own childhood, because she'd grown up side by side door.

When she was nine, and Tessa xi, they'd lost their parents in a car crash and come up to live with their grandmother, Phoebe MacGuire. They'd traveled between houses as kids practise, and Alli had come to know this one well-nigh also as her own. Although she had normally been the one tagging behind, trying to catch up to Sam and Tessa, and somehow the door always seemed to slam in her face.

Sam hung up the phone. "The pizza volition be here in fifteen minutes."

She nodded. "Groovy. So, how did the weekend become?"

"Fine."

"Megan starts summer school tomorrow. We'll have to redo our visitation schedule."

"I detest that word," he said with a fierceness that startled her. "Megan is my daughter. We should all be living together, non visiting each other."

Alli didn't know what to say. So much for thinking that Sam had accepted things. "I'm sorry; that was the wrong word to utilize. Yous know you can run into Megan as often as you desire, Sam. I would never go on you apart."

"Then why inquire for a divorce? Why break up our family? Why the hell practice you have to be and then selfish, Alli?"

His words hit her like bullets, each one hurting more than than the last, and her only defense was to hit dorsum.

"Don't arraign it all on me, Sam. I wasn't the only i who wanted out, just the 1 who had the guts to inquire."

"You don't know what you lot're talking most."

"The hell I don't," she said sharply. "When I found that box of clippings and photographs of Tessa, I felt like I'd just stumbled upon yous in bed with another woman."

"I was never unfaithful to y'all."

"Possibly not in body, but in listen you certainly were. How do yous think it feels to know the human being who is touching you is thinking almost someone else?" Her voice shook with the depth of her pain. She could still see herself sneaking into Sam's office to surprise him with an intimate ceremony dinner, only to find a box of Tessa's photos subconscious abroad in the bottom drawer of his desk. She'd been looking for the corkscrew he kept there and so she could open up the wine she'd brought to gloat nine years together. What a fool she'd been.

"It was never like that," Sam said.

"It was always similar that."

"Alli—"

"And it wasn't merely the box of photos. It's been and then much more than, and you know information technology. I wanted more children, Sam, and you lot refused over and over again. Because having another kid with me, making a deliberate choice to add together to the family unit, would mean y'all were planning to stay with me. But you couldn't brand that commitment, could you? You couldn't cross that line, because you weren't planning to stay forever. Well, I only cut the time short."

Before Sam could reply, Megan returned to the room.

"Look, Mommy, I made you a candleholder out of a wine bottle, see?" Megan held upwards the papier-mâché-covered bottle with a proud smile. "Daddy helped me. Can nosotros light a candle for dinner?"

"I estimate."

"No," Sam said abruptly. "Nosotros don't need a candle."

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