All I Ever Wanted (Of Love and Madness Book 3) Read online

  All I Ever Wanted

  Of Love and Madness, Book Three

  Karen Cimms

  Lone Sparrow Press

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Note to readers

  Not ready to say goodbye yet?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  All I Ever Wanted

  © 2017 by Karen Cimms

  Cover Designer: Garrett Cimms

  Cover Photographer: Garrett Cimms

  Cover Model: Olka Cimms

  Interior Designer: The Write Assistants

  Line editing: Lisa Poisso

  “Better Days.” Words and music by John Rzeznik. Copyright (c) 2005 Corner Of Clark And Kent. All Rights Administered by BMG Rights Management (US) LLC. All Rights Reserved Used by permission. Reprinted by permission of Hal Leonard LLC.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  ISBN: 978-0-9974867-5-9

  Foreword

  All I Ever Wanted is the final book in the Of Love and Madness series. It is not a standalone and it is strongly recommended that you read At This Moment and We All Fall Down before reading this book to fully understand and appreciate these characters.

  This series is not a typical romance, but it is a love story. It is at times dark, and it can be gritty. I hope you’ll trust me to see you through to the end.

  To the victims and the survivors and those who love them.

  She fought on

  Because fighting meant

  She hadn’t yet lost.

  — n.a. denmon

  Chapter One

  November 30, 2012

  The green ironwork bridge rose up before them, the only real color on this steel-gray day. It had been years since that bridge had carried Kate Donaldson over the Piscataqua River into Maine on her yearly summer vacations, but it looked exactly the same as it had then. A tiny shiver ran through her. Excitement? Perhaps. Or maybe it was fear.

  She was a 42-year-old woman running away from home.

  Tom’s Lexus rumbled over the bridge. Her attorney and friend—her only friend—seemed unaware she had woken, which was fine. He’d probably try to engage her in conversation, and she wasn’t up for that. She’d left her life, her children, her husband, everything but Charlie, her dog. It was time to make a new start. To heal. To somehow come to terms with the past six months, learn how to move forward and forge a new life for herself.

  This sudden move, this disappearing act, was rash, but having almost taken her own life, she needed to take control of it now. As crazy as it seemed, especially just a day after being released from the hospital, it made her feel determined, empowered. It was as if she’d completed the outline of a difficult jigsaw puzzle without the picture on the box to guide her. Fitting in the rest of the pieces wouldn’t be any easier, but if she wanted to put herself back together after the worst year of her life, she didn’t have a choice.

  The question was, would she still recognize herself once the puzzle was complete?

  “Hey, sleepyhead. You finally awake?”

  “Yeah. How much longer?” The muscles in her ass were cramped and she needed to stretch, but she didn’t want to ask him to stop. She didn’t want to be more of a burden than she’d already become.

  “Less than an hour, but I have to stop for gas. There’s a service plaza a few miles ahead. Hungry?”

  At the power of his suggestion, her stomach grumbled noisily. “I guess I am.” Must be the meds. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt hunger.

  “There’s a Burger King if you’re desperate, or we can get to the house, unload, and then head to Yarmouth or Freeport. Do you like lobster?”

  She made a face.

  “You love Maine but not lobster?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

  “Yes to Maine, no to lobster.” Thoughts of Joey filled her head. Her best friend, Tom’s secret love, tragically gone from them both. “Joey loved Maine just as much as I do.”

  “He did. That’s why he bought the house for you.” Despite the pain in his eyes, he smirked. “But unlike you, he loved lobster.”

  “Not when we were kids.” The overwhelming sadness she already carried grew heavier at the memory of all those summers in Maine when her parents had allowed her to bring her dearest friend. Now that Joey was dead, memories were all she had. Memories and a house he had bought her, but had never told her about. And then there was the corporation he’d left her as well.

  That she refused to think about. Thanks to Tom, at least for now, she didn’t have to.

  She leaned against the headrest and stared out the window as they sped past tall evergreens and a tidal creek until she could trust her voice not to crack.

  “My parents would buy lobsters a couple of times a week for themselves and a package of red snappers for me and Joey. I guess he eventually developed a taste for the real thing. Not me.”

  “Are snappers those bright red hot dogs?” Tom asked. “I can’t bring myself to eat a hot dog that color, but I love lobster. It was the only thing Joey ever cooked. Whenever we could get away together, I did all the cooking. But when we came up here, he’d buy a few lobsters and cook them himself.”

  Sadness tinged his voice. Joey’s death five months earlier had gutted him, but since his and Joey’s relationship had been a secret—even Kate hadn’t known unti
l the night Joey died—he hadn’t even been able to grieve properly.

  “But he still loved those red hot dogs.” He smiled, but she could see it took some effort.

  They pulled into a service plaza near Kennebunkport. While Tom filled up the Lexus and dashed into the service plaza in search of food, Kate took Charlie for a walk.

  “You’re a good boy,” she said, giving him a scratch behind his ear after he’d marked several tree trunks and the leg of a picnic table. She sat on a bench waiting for Tom as dusk settled in around her, Charlie’s head resting on her knee.

  “I just hope you aren’t disappointed that I’m dragging you away from your home, but I can’t do this by myself. I’m going to need someone to talk to, to help me feel safe. Like it or not buddy, you’re it.”

  It was dark by the time they got to Cumberland. There was little Kate could make out other than lights from the houses they passed. Now and then she’d catch a glimpse of an evergreen wreath hanging on a door or Christmas lights twinkling in a window. The weight in her chest grew heavier.

  Tom turned off the main road onto a narrow street lined with large homes of various styles. At the end of the street, he banked into a short driveway. A motion sensor light flickered on, displaying a charming, cedar-shingled cottage. A window box hung in front of a double window.

  Kate stepped from the car, and before she could stop him, Charlie bounded over the seat, ran to a large tree at the edge of the driveway, and promptly lifted his leg. When he had finished sniffing the trees and the bushes, he ran several laps around the car. Too bad she didn’t find the prospect of their arrival as exciting.

  The air, which held only the promise of a chill earlier, had grown colder. She shivered and filled her lungs.

  “I smell the ocean.”

  “You should. It’s right there.” Tom pointed to the right, where the nearly full moon threw a path across the water. “It looks even better in the daylight.” They each grabbed a suitcase, and she followed him up a brick walk to the front of the house. He unlocked the door, and Charlie bolted in ahead of them. He skidded along the hardwood floor and slid into a small table. A vase teetered dangerously but managed to right itself before it could crash onto the floor.

  “Charlie!” Grudgingly, he returned to her side, head down. He wasn’t used to her scolding him, and even when she did, he usually ignored her.

  She grabbed his collar. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize,” Tom said. “This is your house.”

  It was her house, but the circumstances were difficult to digest. She pressed her lips together and nodded, pushing away the weight of sadness and grief that she carried everywhere with her these days.

  Tom set down her suitcase and slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I know it’s a lot for you to take in, but Joey bought it for you. He loved it here as much as you did, and his memories of the two of you growing up were his fondest. He also wanted you to have a place you could call your own. Here it is.” He waved his hand like Vanna White introducing a new puzzle board. “Let me show you around.”

  He began the tour with the garage, leading her through the laundry room, which included a state-of-the-art washer and dryer and a large pantry.

  In the garage was an older model Saab convertible. “The keys are in the kitchen drawer. The car’s in excellent condition, but I’ll take it to a garage tomorrow and have it looked over. We’ll get snow tires put on as well.”

  She thought of her own red Saab, which had been riddled with bullets back in August when an irate landowner had burst into a township meeting she was covering for the newspaper and killed seven people, including her dear friend Eileen, before he was shot and killed by one of the officers responding to the scene. At some point during his rampage, while she’d been hiding in a bathroom stall, Sedge Stevens had also turned the gun on her car, a sign that she had been one of his targets.

  Icy fingers ran down her spine. She pressed her fingers against the wall, steadying herself, as she swallowed back the dizzying sense of panic that gripped her whenever she thought about that night. “I don’t plan on doing much driving.”

  “You can’t sit here and shut out the world, Kate. You promised to see the psychiatrist. That’s non-negotiable. We’ll also go pick up a new cell phone for you, and you’ll check in with me every day. Understand?”

  “Tom, I’m perfectly capab—”

  He raised his hand. “Stop right there. This is how it’s going to work. You check in with me every day and see the psychiatrist every week, or I tell Billy where you are.”

  “Tom!” She wasn’t a child to be scolded or threatened.

  “I told you, the only way I’m going along with this is if you give your recovery a hundred percent. Do I have your word, or do I have to drag you and your suitcases back to the car?”

  “Fine.” She shrugged. “You’re right. I promised you, and I promised Joey.”

  His jaw tightened at the mention of the dream in which she’d promised Joey she would seek help. Tom could believe it or not; it made no difference to her. That vision—or dream, as he called it—was what had convinced her not to take her own life.

  He assessed her expression carefully, and when he seemed satisfied, he continued the tour, although with much less forced enthusiasm.

  In the kitchen, she ran her hands along the cool granite countertops. The appliances were stainless steel, and the stove was a professional-grade model with five burners. Not that she would be doing much cooking or entertaining. She would have loved this kitchen at home.

  This is home, Kate. Right.

  Beyond the breakfast bar was the dining room, with a large wooden table that would have been perfect for hosting holiday dinners. Running the length of the dining room and adjacent living room, was an entire wall of windows, including patio doors that led to a deck. Tom flipped on the outdoor lights, and she could see that they were actually on the second floor, due to the slope of the property. There was an in-ground pool, and beyond that, a garden in hibernation.

  “I always wanted a pool,” she murmured.

  “Now you have one.”

  In the living room, two large white couches formed an L, with one facing a white brick fireplace. Atop the mantel were dozens of books and two elaborately framed oil paintings. On the wall opposite the windows were two massive bookcases.

  “I can’t get over all these books.” Her fingers traced the colorful spines.

  “Joey insisted the house be filled with bookshelves and books. He said you love to read.”

  If hearing his name didn’t hurt so much, she might have laughed. “How ironic. Joey wouldn’t have picked up a book unless it was in his way.”

  “True, but this is what he wanted for you.”

  Two large rattan chairs and a rattan coffee table snuggled in the corner, facing the wall of windows. On the table were a pair of binoculars and a field guide to northeastern birds. She picked up the book and thumbed through several pages.

  “There are bird feeders on the deck right outside the window. You can put food in them if you wish, and the birds will come to you.” He was beginning to sound like a Realtor desperate to make a sale.

  “It’s wonderful, really.” She put the book back where she’d found it, feeling very much as if she were in some stranger’s home. “I just don’t understand why he never told me. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “He would have, eventually. He only bought it two years ago. There were renovations to be completed, landscaping, decorating. Plus I don’t think he expected you to be too receptive to the idea that he bought this place for you. He was certain you would’ve tried to talk him out of it, if not downright refuse to accept it. He was going to tell you he bought it and have you visit a few times. And when you fell in love with it, as he was sure you would, he would’ve told you then. Look around, Kate. This place was designed for you. The books, the gourmet kitchen, the garden—it’s all you.”

  A fat tear rolled down her cheek, and she
wiped it away. If Tom noticed, he pretended not to.

  “C’mon.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “We aren’t even halfway finished.”

  “You’re kidding! I could be happy right here for the rest of my life.” She gave him the illusion of a smile, but it was a lie. She didn’t believe she’d ever be happy again.

  Tom led her down the hallway. The first door on the right led to a guest room with its own bathroom. It was cozy and decorated like the rest of the house, in a casual, Frank-Lloyd-Wright-meets-Pottery-Barn kind of way. Comfy quilts with matching pillow shams covered the bed.

  The windows here, like the others she’d seen, were uncovered.

  “How come there aren’t any curtains?” The sight of her reflection staring back at her made her feel exposed and vulnerable.

  “You don’t need them. You’ll see. There isn’t any traffic passing the house the way it’s situated. But it’s your house. If you want curtains, that’s up to you.”

  At the end of the hall was a large bathroom, a small dressing room, another guest room, and the master bedroom. The second guest room was larger than the first, although it didn’t have a bathroom. But it faced the driveway and would allow her to see anyone coming to the front door. This would be her room.

  When he opened the door to the master bedroom, she was even more certain of that. What she’d seen so far reflected her tastes, but the master bedroom was all Joey. It was sleek and modern, in cool tones of gray and plum. A king-sized bed with a black lacquered headboard was situated on the far wall, and over the bed was a stunning composite of black-and-white photographs in matching silver frames. The photos were close-ups of a man’s body.

  “That’s you, isn’t it?”

  Tom gave her a weak smile.

  “They’re beautiful.” She slipped her arm around his waist.

  “I still can’t believe he’s gone.” His voice broke on the last word, and he clamped a hand over his eyes as she guided him to the side of the bed. She rocked him gently, swallowing her own tears and the guilt she felt for allowing him to tend her needs when his own went unmet.