Chain of Title (26 page)

His mouth devoured hers,
their bodies and moans melding together as he pressed her hungrily to him. 
Sean quickly stripped her of the flimsy nightgown, sucking her breast into his
mouth, licking, squeezing, and biting until Shayna felt like a firecracker with
a short fuse.  In the frenzy of hot mouths and greedy hands, Sean managed to
pull off his t-shirt, and Shayna had his jeans undone, his thick length
grinding in and out of her hand.

She felt dizzy with lust, as  his
fingers scissored her engorged clit.  She screamed his name as the powerful release
crashed over her in hard, unrelenting waves.  Sliding up and forward she pulled
her flimsy panties to the side and dropped down onto him, her slick heat,
clenching and pulling him deeper inside her hungry core.  They groaned, kissed,
and writhed as she rode him feverishly.

“No, no, no!” Sean growled as
he pulled Shayna up and off him.  He quickly stood taking her with him.  He
gripped her face, pulling her up to him and pressing his forehead to hers, his
face a mask of agony.  “You don’t know, Shayna.  You don’t know what I’ve
done.”

Her heart raced and her
stomach churned at what she suspected he meant.  “Whatever you’ve done, you did
for me, Sean.  That’s all I need to know.  You did it for
me
and now I
have my daughter back.”  She framed his face in her hands and forced him to
look at her.  “If you need my forgiveness, you have it.  You don’t even need to
ask.  It’s already yours.  Everything I have is already yours.”

She agilely dropped down, taking
his jeans and briefs with her to the floor.  Before he could stop her, she had
him in her mouth, gripping him and sucking him deep into her throat.  His hands
in her hair and his guttural moans excited her even more; spurring her on until
he tensed in what she thought would be his release.  Instead, he pulled her off
and tossed her on the bed, landing on top of her, holding her head in his hands
and searching her eyes in the dim moonlight.  She could see desire tangled with
regret on his face, and her heart ached.

“You don’t know what you’re
saying, Shay.  You really don’t,” he warned sorrowfully.

Breathing in as deeply as she
could with his weight on top of her, she braced herself for the words she was
about to admit out loud.  Speaking steadily and with confidence, she said, “I
know he’s not coming back.”  She paused deliberately, not wanting to break
under his scrutiny.  “And I’m pretty sure I know why.”  She swallowed hard, not
daring to flinch or look away from him.

Sean stared, slack-jawed,
eventually closing his eyes and resting his forehead to hers, rolling it gently
back and forth.  “Fuck,” he whispered shamefully.

“I love you, Sean Parker.  I
refuse to judge you on this.  Don’t force me to.  Please,” she pleaded quietly,
hoping he wouldn’t hear the tears in her voice.

He cocooned his body around
hers and she felt him quake against her.  She held him tightly.  He surprised
her, then, by quickly slipping off her and yanking her bottom to the edge of
the bed.  In one clean swipe, her panties flew away and she lay spread wide, his
bites and suction along her inner thighs making her pant and beg for more.  She
knew there would be marks in the morning, and only wished they could last
forever.  She wanted him to leave his mark on her body, as he already had on
her heart.

Shayna’s back arched and she
clawed at the bedding as his lips and talented tongue gorged on her, made a
meal out of her.  She bucked and thrashed, pleaded and moaned, as he held her
in place and did exactly what he wanted to do to her.  And then, as she lay
lifeless, almost fearful of another orgasm and how her brain might implode, he
was mercifully on her, in her, thrusting deep and kissing her wildly as her
legs wrapped greedily around his narrow waist.  She kissed her sweet, salty
flavor from his lips, pulling at his hair and clawing at his back as he sank
into the end of her.  She held him jealously with every part of her body,
inside and out, determined never to let him go.

****

Gingerly
opening and flattening the crumpled paper on top of the dresser, Shayna traced
her finger over the sharp stroke of each letter that he had written.  Breathing
in sharply, allowing a tear to drop onto the note, she shook her head in
disbelief, anger, and loss.  Shayna had known this was exactly where she would
end up the moment she wadded the note and threw it across the room.  She had foreseen
fishing it out from under her dresser to stand staring at it like some lovesick
girl.  She huffed at the thought.

She was sick.

Sick of losing the men she
loved.

Waking up to a note on Sean’s
pillow when she reached for his warm body this morning was not the way she had
planned to start the day.

Now his sweet words from last
night, the plans they had made while wrapped sweaty and naked in bed, came into
painful focus.  They had agreed to leave Mt. Pleasant, sell Gaetano’s, his
loft, and her house.  Maybe they would find a place to settle in the future,
but for now, they had decided to travel wherever the winds took them.  Live each
day as if it were the last, moment by moment, together.

A ragged breath pushed from
her lungs.  She understood now that Sean wanted to soothe her last night and
allow them both to indulge in the fantasy, in the dream of their future, before
reality slammed into them, upending everything.  They had lived happily in that
bubble and that was all they would get.  She would never see him again.  She
knew that now.

The reasons were many and
complicated.  The Morales mission was suicide and doomed to fail.  If by some
miracle Sean made it out alive, Shayna knew he still wouldn’t come back.  He
didn’t really believe she could forgive what he had done, or maybe he couldn’t
forgive himself.

She dropped to her knees,
staring at his words, wishing desperately that they could fill the chilling
emptiness hollowing her out.  If she stared at them long enough, maybe he would
reappear, or maybe she could disappear.

Words had never meant much to
her before, but now, they were everything, all she had left of him.  Sean
followed through on his words with actions, and now was no different.  The truth
in the words he spoke to her the first night they made love caused her head to hurt
and her heart to break.  He was right, true to his word once again.

She would never get him out
of her system.

The
icy January air sliced across Shayna’s face and she tugged her wool scarf up
around her mouth and nose for protection, breathing in deeply before releasing
a powdery gossamer cloud in front of her.  The canvas tarp whipped and snapped
in the unforgiving wind and then she felt Jack slide his arm around her,
tugging her into him and warming her immediately.  She wanted to look up at him,
but couldn’t.  She hadn’t been able to make eye contact with anyone.  She shared
responsibility for this gathering and the circumstances that led to it.

Closing her eyes, she tried
once again to push away the image of Frank’s mangled, decaying body from her
mind.  Jack and Dani had begged her not to do it and with dental records, it hadn’t
even been necessary.  There was no doubt whose body had washed ashore. 
However, punishment was required for her complicity, and she knew the monstrous
sight of the man she had once loved would haunt her forever, punish her forever,
awake or asleep.

The ripples from seemingly
harmless choices, when measured against the reality of the present, had
abandoned her in purgatory.  She hadn’t understood how her decision to see him
that day, made in anger and haste, would ultimately impact so many people’s
lives.  She would always regret having gone to his house, upset over a piece of
land.  She sniffed and blinked back the tears, glancing down and mindlessly scraping
at the thin layer of snow beneath her shoe, trying to make sense of it all.  If
she hadn’t gone that day, maybe Frank would still be alive.  Maybe Sean would
have spared him.

Maybe.

However, at the end of the
day, Sean was responsible for his actions, just as Frank was for his.  With all
that had happened between them, she had never wished him dead, never wished him
harm, just wanted him out of her life.  She squeezed her eyes tightly at the unforgiving
finality of that wish, now come true—
careful what you wish for
.  Tears
pushed at the back of her lids.

Now Danielle’s father was
dead.

Shayna knew how that felt,
and she had never wanted that for Dani, not this early in her young life.  Not
only did Danielle have to deal with the link between her kidnapping and Frank’s
gambling, but also with his death.  Shayna knew who was responsible for that,
but she was good at keeping secrets.  Of course, the FBI concluded it was a hit
by Morales’ people, made to look like an accident or suicide.  Either Frank
hadn’t been able to come up with the full amount, or he had and they killed him
anyway.

She remembered Agent Kepler
explaining the coroner’s report in excruciating detail.  Even with all of the
damage to Frank’s body from the fall, sea life and exposure to the elements, the
examiner ruled out suicide based on evidence she had found of a stabbing—distinctive
scoring on underlying bone from a blade.  Shayna closed her eyes and choked
back a sob.  Maybe it was for the best that Sean had left.

Maybe.

The amens and shuffling
brought her eyes up, and she caught sight of Frank’s portrait, his sapphire
eyes seemingly locked on her alone, judging her, beseeching her, causing her to
gasp and her guilt to spread like fire through her veins.  Dani leaned against her,
and handed off a single rose.  Shayna intentionally pushed the thorns through
her gloves and into her skin, the pain; both punishment and confirmation that
she existed, bringing her focus back to the present.

“Come with me, Mom,” Dani
whispered, linking her hand with Shayna’s.

Shayna nodded numbly, and
approached the sleek ebony casket with its shiny silver adornments.  They
placed their roses on the glossy surface and waited a few moments before stepping
away as others began to approach and leave their offerings.  She wanted to run,
hide, go home, and never leave again.

With the service concluded,
Shayna started walking down the gentle slope and into the full force of the
winter storm threatening above them with its gray clouds heavy with snow.  She
could feel others following her, but she didn’t want to talk.  She just wanted
to leave, to be left alone to wallow in her misery.  She deserved it.

“Mom,” Danielle called behind
her.  “Wait up.”

She slowed and eventually
stopped.  Danielle and Harper came to stand in front of her while Jackson and
his family huddled off to the side, braving the blustery elements.

“We’re going to Uncle
Jack’s.  Why don’t you come too, Mom.  Please?”

Shayna shook her head.  “No. 
I want to go home, sweetheart.  Another time, okay?” she asked weakly.

“Mom you need to be with
people.  You’ve been shut up in that house since...” Danielle trailed off and
looked at the ground.

Shayna’s eyes flicked to
Harper.  “Have you two made a decision yet?” she asked glancing between the
young couple, noting Dani’s perturbation at the abrupt change in subject.

Danielle frowned at her
mother and then she looked up at Harper.  Her sapphire eyes immediately
softened and a smile won out.  She turned her father’s eyes back to Shayna. 
“We’re going to elope, Mom.  We’ll have a reception or something when we get
back.”

Shayna was relieved.  “I
think that sounds perfect, love.  Still thinking about touring Europe?”  They
nodded and wrapped their arms around one another.  Shayna’s heart clenched. 
The news was welcome.  The idea of a wedding without Frank to walk Danielle
down the aisle was too much to bear right now.  “When do you leave?”

“Next week.  I’m getting you
out of that house before we leave, Mom,” Danielle warned with her head tilted,
raising her brow and tightening her lips.

“It’s a deal, sweetheart.” 
Shayna hugged them both and then waved to Jackson and his family as she walked
away, pulling her coat tighter.  He scowled and shook his head.  Clearly
disappointed that not even Danielle could convince her to join them.  She
understood their concerns.  They were valid.  She had become a bit of a recluse
since Sean left, and everything else that followed only compounded matters.

Split up.

Broken up.

God, she hated telling people
that was why Sean was absent.  It was so far from the truth.  Torn apart was
more accurate.  Not what she had ever wanted, but she wasn’t given a choice. 
Sean took it from her.

The drive home had become
treacherous with the drifts and blowing snow, especially on her side of Lake
Indigo.  Kicking off her shoes and dropping her coat on the floor of the
mudroom, Shayna made her way to the kitchen and tossed her purse and keys on
the counter.  She pulled a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and poured
herself a glass.  She had repealed her prohibition on alcohol.  It somehow made
her feel closer to Sean.  He always liked a glass of wine in the evening.  Now she
did to.

Stepping into the great room
and turning on the fireplace, she weaved around the piles of boxes and items
pulled from the attic:  Dani’s keepsakes, pictures, photo albums and paper work
strewn about.  The place looked ransacked, but there really was a method to her
madness.  There were so many decisions to make.  Shayna was ready to clean
house, to start letting go of things, especially the past.

She picked up Frank’s Last
Will and Testament.  The man had not changed a thing since the divorce.  She
shook her head in disbelief.  Now she would have to administer his estate. 
Shayna let out a loud sigh.  More punishment.  Fortunately, his substantial
life insurance would go a long way to paying off his debts, along with the key-man
policy that CCL had on him.  In the end it would work out, and the mess he had created
would be resolved.

A pile of framed photos
caught her attention.  Reaching over, she picked one off the top.  It was a
picture of her and of Frank in happier times—younger, smiling, arms draped
easily around one another.  They looked like the perfect couple, contented and
settled with each other.  She bit back the sting of tears and placed it back on
the pile, looking around at what was left of Frank Chastain’s life.  She’d had his
personal effects from his house brought here last week—now a mish mash with her
stuff.  Danielle didn’t want to go through anything yet.  She wasn’t ready.  Shayna
planned to sort, organize and box everything up and store it for Danielle,
until she was ready to face it someday.

After adjusting the flames in
the fireplace, Shayna shifted over to the windows and watched as the snow piled
up on the deck.  From the looks of it, she wouldn’t be going anywhere for a few
days.  That was just fine with her.

Sipping wine and examining
her reflection, she tortured herself with the question that gnawed relentlessly
at her.  The question that kept her up at night.

Why had she been able to
forgive Sean so easily and not Frank?

Why Sean?

In the reflection of the window,
she noticed the glint of a metal box near the fireplace.  Pivoting and ambling
toward it, she stared for a moment and then felt her heart begin to race as her
fingers threaded through the handle.  Putting the wine glass down, she sat with
the metal box on her lap, gliding her hands all along the smooth oblong
container.  There was no reason to open it.  She already knew what was
inside—her mother’s letters.

She shook her head softly. 
Ben Montgomery had never stopped loving Abigail.  That fact had always angered
her, defied all logic.  Why didn’t he ever let her go?  Why didn’t he ever move
on?  How could he have possibly loved her until the day he died after
everything she had done?  How could he have forgiven her?

Shayna’s breathing picked up
as comprehension began swirling around her and then sucker punched her.  The
air all but left her lungs at the sudden clarity.  She finally understood her father
after all these years, because she now knew she was no different.  The acute
understanding thundered in her head until it ached.

Sean was
her
Abigail. 
She had forgiven him for something that others—friends, family—never would. 
And they certainly would never understand her ability to do so.  She didn’t
completely understand it herself.

She thought back to her
parent’s story.  Abigail was sixteen when she became pregnant with Jackson. 
Ben was nineteen.  They married immediately and went on to have two more
children.  Abigail felt trapped, but Ben never did.  However, knowing her
father, Shayna imagined he felt guilty, complicit, for Abigail’s ultimate
unhappiness and eventual abandonment.  He had said as much.

Before Alzheimer’s completely
robbed him, Ben had made a comment for which there was no context.  It didn’t
belong in the discussion they were having that day and now it resonated deeply. 
That moment played with vivid clarity in Shayna’s mind.  How he had looked her
directly in the eyes and said with utter sincerity and lucidity,
it wasn’t
all her fault, squirt.  Don’t hate her forever
.  Shayna shuddered.  Clearly,
he had forgiven Abigail.  But had he ever forgiven himself?

Could she ever forgive
herself?

Shayna exhaled sharply in
unexpected relief, as so many years of anger seemed to fade and melt away.  She
understood now, really understood her father—understood herself.

A silent stream of tears ran
down her cheeks as memories played in her head.  Withholding forgiveness and hanging
on to so much anger over the years about Abigail, Wes, and Frank, had become
suffocating, unhealthy.  The chains from the past that she still carried had
grown too heavy.  She needed to cut herself loose to have any hope of
continuing to put one foot in front of the other, any hope of putting her life
back together.

With a deep sigh of
contemplation and burgeoning hope, Shayna hesitated to think she might even get
a few consecutive hours of sleep tonight.  Maybe these recent revelations would
quiet the usual cacophony in her head now that she was finally willing to face
them and deal with the stifling overgrowth in her life—thanks in no small part
to Sean.  Because of him, she had finally learned that she was capable of
forgiveness, even when others wouldn’t understand how she possibly could.

“I understand now, Dad,” she
whispered to his memory.

Now, she needed to learn how
to extend that forgiveness to others.

Maybe even to herself.

****

“That’s
not the way I remember it,
Jackson
,” Shayna teased, emphasizing his name
in just the way she knew made him nuts.  She loved the easy banter and teasing
that had finally returned between them.  She giggled and shrugged at her big
bear of a brother, who rolled his eyes and waved her off as she put the
casserole in the oven while he continued massaging the steaks with his special
seasonings.  Her brother loved to cook out—even in the dead of winter.  He was
officially nuts. 

“I can’t believe I still have
to put this crap next to real meat,” he scoffed, grabbing a package of hot dogs
with a look of disgust.

“Oh, they’ll come around
eventually.  It’s only your youngest that still want that mystery meat.  And
they won’t be young that much longer,” Shayna said with a pang of nostalgia.

“Hey, when does that niece of
mine get back anyway?”