Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3)

by Rissa Brahm

  But now she knew her mother’s transgressions. And she couldn’t allow herself to think on it. Champa’s words rang too true. What if she was just a selfish, aimless coward like her mother? Constantly taking the shortcut, missing her purpose altogether.

  And then there was Ben, who she’d thought was so damn different.

  But he rivaled her mother. Hiding behind the ever-selfless doctor shtick. The Good Samaritan, putting his wife out of her misery! Just another pretender. Freeing himself of burden like her mother had done. Just kill off the pain. Cut out the pain. Run from the pain.

  Yeah, that’s how to do it—Jesus, his own wife?

  She looked around the room. The walls felt miles away while squeezing in on her at the same time. And in the armchair by the window lay the purple sarong he’d given her, the one he’d removed from her body when they’d been together at the falls a week ago.

  And then his words. At the hospital. To Elaine James. Those words, his voice echoed in her head. The torture in his tone, in his expression. Of needing to be strong for “your loved one.” To really be there. Out-of-self be there.

  Then she recalled his other words. To Preeya. Concerning her sister. What if—or really, when—Prana runs down her clock here on earth, her sister’s poor body done with the fight. They’d said age fifteen, so Prana was already living on borrowed time. Just held up in that place. Waiting for her big sister to read and reread The Giving Tree to her. What kind of life?

  Then Preeya recalled those assholes—the SafeHaven doctors—detailing her baby sister’s demise. It had been four years ago. They hadn’t known Preeya was there behind the door waiting for Prana to come back from PT. And how fucking flippant and clinical they’d been. Disgust raged up her spine just hearing their dialogue replaying in her head. With their charts and files and X-rays in hand, they’d discussed how Prana’s body would fold in on itself from the inside out—her cells, her organs, everything.

  And she’d blocked it from her mind.

  She wouldn’t wish such an end on her worst enemy.

  And for her sweet Prana? Such a glowing, giving, tender girl. Preeya could think of no end worthy of such a soul.

  She’d stopped breathing some moments before, only known to her by the rush of air flooding her lungs like a hot, high-pressure back draft. She threw herself on the bed. Tears from forever fell in a torrent and, all alone and unraveling fast, she didn’t know how to stop them.

  *

  Ben went to Stacy’s to pack for the expedition. He knew Stacy could tell something was wrong—and that he wanted space. But what he wanted and what she thought he needed were often two different things.

  “Can I drive you tomorrow?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “Two weeks. Three tops,” he lied. He couldn’t deal with her worry, not now.

  “Any news from the attorney for the final hearing?”

  “Shit,” he said, then rummaged through his saddlebag for his phone. “Stanton said he’d email me the date and leave a voice mail.” He scrolled through messages and found nothing. “I guess I should call him tonight since I’ll be out of range.”

  “So, you really think it’s still a good idea to go? Crossing through those central states, Ben? It scares me.”

  He knew and felt badly for worrying her. But he couldn’t defeat the disappointment and anger fueling his decision. “I’m going, Stace. Doctors are needed there, and I’m a doctor. And I’ve delayed them a week. Anyway, I’m especially obliged since I’ve got no family to speak of.”

  “Oh, really? No family? You know, you can be a real prick sometimes, Ben Trainer. A real goddamn prick.”

  “You know what I meant.”

  “Doesn’t negate the fact that you’re continuously heading into dangerous territory and…” She got tearful then, “…and it would crush me if anything happened to you.”

  He left his packing for the moment and pulled his sister into him. “Shhh. It’s all gonna be fine.”

  “You don’t know that! No one knows—”

  “Exactly, Stace. But I need to do this. And”—he pulled away to gain eye contact—“that’s really not what I meant, about having no family,” he whispered, then hugged her tighter.

  CHAPTER 32

  Preeya woke up fully dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Had she really fallen asleep that way? She rubbed her eyes, her eyelashes stiff from dried tears. Sun spilling through the window forced her to adjust to the time, the morning, the—shit! She shot out of bed. No! She ran to her phone and pulled the crumpled ball of a napkin from her purse—because she’d deleted Ben’s number and text string out of rage and hurt.

  Ben.

  She’d explain. How she understood now, and hadn’t yesterday. How she’d been completely emotional and irrational. Because of who her mother turned out to be. And who her father had never been. And how horrendously sorry she felt for Ben for having to watch his wife, who he’d loved with an endless and absolute value, like Preeya’s love for Prana…and she dreaded the day…that her sister might wilt and shrivel and die.

  Damn it! It rang and rang. No answer.

  No. Please, no. The excursion. Early. God, no.

  She jumped in and out of the shower in under a minute, threw on a sundress then ran to the elevator, the lobby, the curb. A cab came on cue from the flock of them across the street. “Conchas Chinas, please. 434 Calle Adamo.”

  On the way she texted Gigi: How’s my remote-aura looking now? FYI, should be void-black. Me, making hell out of heaven. Call when you can. Please.

  *

  She rang Stacy’s doorbell like a crazy woman and when Ben’s sister finally came to the door, the woman looked almost pissed. But Stacy’s face softened immediately.

  “Preeya? Come in, come in.”

  “I’m so sorry for coming unannounced. I just never got your number and Ben didn’t answer and I was so scared that he’d—”

  “Already left? The bastard that he is…” She turned toward the kitchen, expecting Preeya to follow. “So dumb for such an intelligent man. So pigheaded. He just wouldn’t listen to reason.”

  “Wouldn’t? So he’s gone?” But with an irrational and childlike glimmer of hope, “Did he go back to Seattle? For the medical convention he was waiting to hear about?”

  “Convention…umm, no, Preeya. No convention. But my voice to God’s ears, don’t I wish he’d gone to Seattle. Oh, sweetheart, don’t I wish.” She pulled the tissue box closer to her, pulled a few out, and handed them to Preeya who didn’t even notice the tears diving from her eyes. Then Stacy slid the Doctors Without Borders info card across the counter.

  “Oh no, Stacy. Oh God…oh God. I did this. He wasn’t gonna go. But I…we…fought, and he changed his mind. To spite me. This is all my fault.” Preeya clenched her jaws to the point of pain. “How long ago did he leave?”

  “At the crack of dawn. Before the kids and I were even up.”

  “Stacy…I’m…I’m…gonna be sick,” she said and ran to the powder room at the far end of the kitchen.

  When she came out a minute later, Stacy had a glass of water waiting for her, then walked her out to the sofa, arm around Preeya like a good mom. Like Ben accused his sister of always being. And that Preeya couldn’t have needed more right then.

  *

  She left Stacy’s after an hour of much-needed comfort and cabbed it back to the hotel.

  But she didn’t go to her room. Sitting in the lobby, she zoned. She felt empty and aimless. She had a blank sheet of a day and it almost paralyzed her. Also in her rage, she’d arranged a flight out the next morning—back to her ever-glorious job. So now she had twenty hours to kill. Alone. Trying not to think about Ben.

  The Marietas. Not exactly the way to not think about Ben. But he’d said how he’d gone there on his own. And how centering it had been for him.

  She ran up to her room for her swimsuit and the sunscreen bottle he’d forced on her. She gr
abbed the sarong, slid her phone and some pesos into a plastic bag from the hotel’s empty ice bucket, and got back down to a cab. She was doing this. On her own. To center and to reflect and to goddamn be.

  *

  She sat at the pristine beach all day under the hovering crater hole and bright blue sky. No rocketing enigma or revelation hit her—no magic fairy dust or bandage found the fault line in her heart.

  But her mind mellowed. Became quieter. And as she walked the length of the shore’s silky white sand, her footsteps felt more grounded somehow.

  Then thoughts came, a slide show of the past whirlwind of a week. The way Ben had looked at her, spoken to her, almost bullied her at times about her future—his belief in her was so real, almost tangible. And the way he’d broken her preconceived notions about, God, so many things.

  Now back at the hotel staring out at the placid bay at low tide, she felt the great unknown at her feet, the next minute, hour, day, future she was so good at flying away from. But it didn’t scare her as it usually had. She almost felt like she could meet it, her blank slate of a tomorrow, and conquer it.

  Conquer it. Not run from it like her mother had, but face it head-on and attack.

  She just wished Ben were there with her to tell this to.

  She looked up at the gulls circling overhead, then back down and across the forever Bay of Banderas. She took a deep breath of the clean sea air, filling her lungs to capacity. Yeah. Flying away wasn’t the way anymore. It was time to stop flying and delaying and procrastinating. Get grounded, Pree. Time to get serious like Ben had said. Time to start living life.

  My life.

  It is goddamn time.

  She looked at her watch, the time still stuck on nine o’clock. Frozen. She unbuckled the strap, pulled it from her wrist, and chucked it as far as she could out into the bay. She could hardly see where it had landed among the white-tipped waves of sea-blue.

  Yeah, time to start.

  She looked at her naked wrist and laughed. And maybe time to consider getting this tattoo removed, too. Or covered up by something new.

  She got into the hotel’s elevator feeling better. And even slightly proud of herself for having made the choice to get out, have an adventure for herself, on her own. While she could’ve holed up in her hotel room all day dwelling on Ben. And she could’ve called Gigi and relied on her friend’s voice as a distraction for the day, too.

  But instead she’d ventured. And thought. And analyzed. And reflected.

  And it had been Ben, his influence. Even now that he was gone—possibly for good, and all because of her explosive and hurtful reaction to his admission—he was still affecting her. Still moving and motivating her. Inside and out and upside down shaking her up to be better. Because he had seen better in her.

  *

  She made it to her room. A strange feeling overcame her when she inserted her room key card into the door’s slot. From her toes up to her head, a sudden surge of joy. Ben would be in there. He’d turned back. For her. She knew it and felt it in her bones. He was inside the room waiting for her. Her pulse raced, her hands clenched and released then she shook them out at her sides.

  She drew in a deep breath to bring her excitement down a notch and pushed open the door.

  To an empty room.

  Her jackhammering heart plummeted to her feet. Now her exhaling breath, an attempt to slow the flood of disappointment, did nothing. She walked in, now robotic, stoic, and shut the door behind her.

  Her phone. Maybe that was the vibe she got floating in the air. She moved across the room like she’d been teleported. She grabbed her phone, powered it on, hit her messages icon.

  No Ben.

  Just a text from Evan. He’d been thinking about her, it said. Seven days ago? Wow, had it really been that long since she’d checked her texts? Yes, it had been a solid week. Why the surprise? Seven days of sweet, sensual, completely sumptuous life will make someone forget about, well, everything else.

  Jesus, Ben. Please, just at least call me.

  It was making her nauseous, the worry for him, and the lack of him.

  Her hand moved down to her stomach. She bent at the waist. “Oh God.” And she ran to the restroom.

  CHAPTER 33

  The days of traveling through the jungle, a blur. And when he’d gotten to base camp he’d been relieved that he’d made it. Strange, though. Relief for making it was never a usual thing for him. In the past he’d always felt disappointed somehow, that nature or man hadn’t snatched him up. But he couldn’t deny having wanted to arrive safely. Maybe it was the pending trial next month. That chapter coming to a close.

  Or maybe it was Preeya lingering in his mind. And in his goddamn heart. But that’s over, Ben. Over and done.

  *

  Two solid weeks of refugees streaming in by train from South and Central America through the corridor. He’d probably supplied thousands of vaccines during that time, to those souls seeking a better life. Desperate and brave, all with no other choice. He felt their yearning, children and adults alike. How could he not continue and strive on? Like these poor souls had. If not for him, then for Jamie, and for these nameless seekers.

  And with or without Preeya in his life, he’d push on for her, too.

  But God, he had so thought it would be with her.

  *

  By week three, he’d found one tiny café with a Wi-Fi hotspot. He’d called Stacy, left her a voice mail—“I’m alive and well”—even though he wasn’t exactly well, but trying like hell to be. Fighting to put Preeya out of his head. He’d also checked for and got an email from Stanton. The hearing date was set for the last week of June. He’d probably have to leave the project early, out of Mexico City instead of Vallarta, if that was the case. Either way, he was looking forward to finally being done with the medical review board, his former in-laws, and the guilt. He was ready to turn the page. Really ready.

  CHAPTER 34

  “Hey, Prana, sweetie.”

  Her sister’s eyes lit up and her hands began to clap and wave wildly.

  And then, from the corner of the room, a deep voice. “Preeya, bitay.”

  She spun around, breath halted. “Dad?”

  He never visited Prana. What the hell?

  Also so strange—the way he’d said bitay, “my sweet child” in Hindi. The soft lining around his utterance made her ears ring. Throughout her life, his use of bitay had always been unearned, unwelcome. He hadn’t deserved to call her his sweet child, or anything else for that matter.

  “It’s good to see you, bitay.”

  Again. She winced behind the fakest smile she could muster.

  Hands in his pockets with obvious uncertainty, he didn’t move to hug her—maybe he’d caught on to her radiating fury. Instead he offered a warm and intent look, so off-putting that her throat went dry and her palms got moist. She couldn’t remember him looking her in the face, in the eyes, since…forever. Or at least since she was seven.

  Prana yelped with excitement and impatience—her sister’s warning call before an all-out fit—and broke the strange…spell between Preeya and her dad. “Sorry, little sister.” Preeya turned from her dad to kiss Prana’s forehead. “I missed you, sweetie, so, so much.” A spring of fresh tears welled in Preeya’s eyes, but she wiped them away just as quickly. Not in front of her father.

  Prana pointed to their dad.

  “Yes, right.” For her sister’s benefit, Preeya made the move and went over to her father to kiss him on the cheek. Then Prana yelped and pointed toward the restroom door just opening.

  Ah. The real reason for Dad’s super-sweet act, no doubt.

  “Preeya, bitay…this is my wife, Sylvia. Sylvia, my beloved oldest daughter, Preeya.”

  Beloved? She wanted to vomit from the pseudo-daddy act. But as she studied her father’s eyes, the unwavering goddamn warmth, he wasn’t breaking his gaze.

  Was he kidding with this shit?

  Still with the soft smile to go with the slow
blinks over round, kind eyes.

  No. He wasn’t kidding. Not in the slightest.

  “I needed my love to meet my loves, Preeya. And here we are.” He reached for Sylvia and pulled her in to his left, and with his other hand, trembling, he invited Preeya to stand close, to stand near her father.

  Her heart thudded in her ears—replacing the high-pitched ringing—but she was sure that his voice had never sounded so tender. Had his pitch changed? His demeanor, too? Had this Sylvia changed him?

  Or…had Preeya’s hearing changed? Or her brain’s filter of his words, maybe?

  “It is so wonderful to finally meet you, Preeya.” Sylvia held out her hand, slow and gentle. Taking Preeya’s, Sylvia leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Babe,” she said to Preeya’s father, “you were right about her eyes: sharp and brilliant. More so in person than in the photos.”

  Huh. Preeya just couldn’t imagine her shallow, doctor-to-the-stars father having the time or inclination to show anyone photos of her.

  But thankfully her sister started clicking her tongue and moaning, wanting attention. A perfect out of this awkward interaction. Preeya smiled at Sylvia politely. “Thank you, and please excuse me. My Prana awaits.”

  At Prana’s side, Preeya’s brows lifted for effect. She slowly pulled from her purse the thing she knew Prana had waited for. Prana clapped as Preeya sat down on the chair next to her sister. Opening The Giving Tree to the first page, she began to read.

  *

  They strolled through the landscaped grounds in silence for some time, until her father cleared his throat. “I am glad for this coincidence, Preeya, bitay.”

  “Dad, you’ve always said there are no coincidences.”

  “Yes. True.” He chuckled. “I’m glad, then, that this timing has put us together. I missed you very much at the wedding. But, I can understand…”