Read Online Barefoot in the Sun by Roxanne St. Claire - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roxanne St. Claire
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Mount Mercy Hospital’s CEO, and broken up with her.
But obviously not for good.
You left him!
What else could she do after he insisted they turn Pasha in? Pasha had had that panic bag packed and in the car in a flash. She’d given Zoe the choice to stay, but, really, there was no choice. She loved Pasha. And Oliver? Well, how would she know romantic love if it bit her in the nose? She’d never lived with a happily married couple. She didn’t know the rules and regs, or where the lines were drawn with people who were in love—don’t you tell your true love everything?
Zoe had, and look how that turned out. Oliver had practically jumped out of the balloon that day. So she ran. Honestly, both she and Oliver had to be accountable for the demise of that romance.
A trickle of sweat meandered down her back, the midday sun brutal already. She went inside to dress in the only suitable clothes for a day this hot: a bikini and thin cotton cover-up, which was good enough for finding Pasha, wherever she was.
A tendril of worry wrapped around her throat. Where was Pasha?
She hadn’t even mentioned the visit to Oliver’s office to her aunt because, well, she wasn’t ready to leave Barefoot Bay and she knew what Pasha’s response to Zoe’s idea would be. Exit stage right.
And Zoe would go because she and Pasha were a team, partners, together forever.
She rinsed her cup and looked out into the gardens again.
There was no such thing as forever. Pasha was sick and this team would inevitably end. And the funny thing was, when that happened, Zoe would finally be free. There’d be no need to live “off the grid” once Pasha was gone.
So why was she fighting so hard to keep her alive? Because the only “love” Zoe had ever known, other than her three closest girlfriends, was given and taken by Pasha. Zoe might not have had normal parents to be role models of how good couples acted, but she had had Pasha to shower her with attention and affection for almost all of her life, ever since Bridget Lessington disappeared and Zoe Tamarin was born.
We’ll call you Zoe. …Zoe means “new life.”
And twenty-four years later, she was still Zoe and they were still running. God, she was so, so tired of running. Of keeping everyone in the dark and at a distance. Of building walls made of sarcasm and apathy. Of skimming the surface with men because anything more would mean repeating what had happened with Oliver.
Tired, but scared of losing the only person who’d ever truly loved her, Zoe headed outside again to find Pasha.
She wandered through the gardens, marveling at Tessa’s pungent herbs, sniffing tangy basil and sweet tomatoes as she made her way to the greenhouse where her friend spent every waking hour.
But the greenhouse was locked.
Worry ratcheted up a notch as Zoe scanned the grounds, her eyes landing on the barrel-tile roof of Clay and Lacey’s home, perched on a rise of land between the gardens and the Gulf.
But where was Pasha? Had she collapsed somewhere? Out in the west field, hidden in the cornstalks? Zoe froze, torn between common sense and her wild imagination. Maybe—
“Hey, Aunt Zoe! Come and see my new brother!” Lacey’s teenage daughter, Ashley, stood on the upstairs balcony, waving. “They just brought him home from the hospital! Everyone’s here!”
“Pasha, too?”
“She’s reading his little palm right this minute!”
Zoe puffed out a prayer of thanks and made her way to the house, not surprised that relief washed her skin with a chill despite the heat. She paused in a cluster of sea grass to gather her wits and push away all those thoughts of staying and regretting and running. Pasha was safe and, right now, that was all that mattered.
Although, damn it, she really didn’t want to leave this time. “Look at this place,” she mumbled to herself. Why did they always have to leave ?
Because Pasha freaked the minute people asked questions or became too close or needed some official
But obviously not for good.
You left him!
What else could she do after he insisted they turn Pasha in? Pasha had had that panic bag packed and in the car in a flash. She’d given Zoe the choice to stay, but, really, there was no choice. She loved Pasha. And Oliver? Well, how would she know romantic love if it bit her in the nose? She’d never lived with a happily married couple. She didn’t know the rules and regs, or where the lines were drawn with people who were in love—don’t you tell your true love everything?
Zoe had, and look how that turned out. Oliver had practically jumped out of the balloon that day. So she ran. Honestly, both she and Oliver had to be accountable for the demise of that romance.
A trickle of sweat meandered down her back, the midday sun brutal already. She went inside to dress in the only suitable clothes for a day this hot: a bikini and thin cotton cover-up, which was good enough for finding Pasha, wherever she was.
A tendril of worry wrapped around her throat. Where was Pasha?
She hadn’t even mentioned the visit to Oliver’s office to her aunt because, well, she wasn’t ready to leave Barefoot Bay and she knew what Pasha’s response to Zoe’s idea would be. Exit stage right.
And Zoe would go because she and Pasha were a team, partners, together forever.
She rinsed her cup and looked out into the gardens again.
There was no such thing as forever. Pasha was sick and this team would inevitably end. And the funny thing was, when that happened, Zoe would finally be free. There’d be no need to live “off the grid” once Pasha was gone.
So why was she fighting so hard to keep her alive? Because the only “love” Zoe had ever known, other than her three closest girlfriends, was given and taken by Pasha. Zoe might not have had normal parents to be role models of how good couples acted, but she had had Pasha to shower her with attention and affection for almost all of her life, ever since Bridget Lessington disappeared and Zoe Tamarin was born.
We’ll call you Zoe. …Zoe means “new life.”
And twenty-four years later, she was still Zoe and they were still running. God, she was so, so tired of running. Of keeping everyone in the dark and at a distance. Of building walls made of sarcasm and apathy. Of skimming the surface with men because anything more would mean repeating what had happened with Oliver.
Tired, but scared of losing the only person who’d ever truly loved her, Zoe headed outside again to find Pasha.
She wandered through the gardens, marveling at Tessa’s pungent herbs, sniffing tangy basil and sweet tomatoes as she made her way to the greenhouse where her friend spent every waking hour.
But the greenhouse was locked.
Worry ratcheted up a notch as Zoe scanned the grounds, her eyes landing on the barrel-tile roof of Clay and Lacey’s home, perched on a rise of land between the gardens and the Gulf.
But where was Pasha? Had she collapsed somewhere? Out in the west field, hidden in the cornstalks? Zoe froze, torn between common sense and her wild imagination. Maybe—
“Hey, Aunt Zoe! Come and see my new brother!” Lacey’s teenage daughter, Ashley, stood on the upstairs balcony, waving. “They just brought him home from the hospital! Everyone’s here!”
“Pasha, too?”
“She’s reading his little palm right this minute!”
Zoe puffed out a prayer of thanks and made her way to the house, not surprised that relief washed her skin with a chill despite the heat. She paused in a cluster of sea grass to gather her wits and push away all those thoughts of staying and regretting and running. Pasha was safe and, right now, that was all that mattered.
Although, damn it, she really didn’t want to leave this time. “Look at this place,” she mumbled to herself. Why did they always have to leave ?
Because Pasha freaked the minute people asked questions or became too close or needed some official
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