by Kim Pritekel
* * *
“Hey, Den, you need some help?” Foster Phelps asked, sitting at the counter of the new espresso shop that had opened in Lone Pine.
“Yeah, Foster. That’d be great,” the brunette said, almost breathless a she tried to keep up with the orders coming in. The kids from one of the Bishop high schools were in town to play against the local high school, and Bishop, being a larger town with more to offer, brought in the business. A lot of the locals wasn’t sure about the new coffee, or about that espresso stuff. The shop’s business depended mainly on the tourists passing through, or high school athletic events.
Denny had made Lone Pine home for the past two months, and for the most part had enjoyed it. No, it wasn’t where she wanted to stay. A closed, conservative town with more churches than taverns, and more pairs of eyes watching Denny’s every move than if she’d been a rat in a cage. She wasn’t trusted, an outsider, come to invade their number. What had finally made the decision for her was when her van officially died, coughing its last breath, three days after Denny had arrived in town.
She had decided to get a job and stay just long enough to raise the money to buy another car and move on. She was thinking perhaps of heading to the northern part of the state, maybe near San Francisco or maybe southern Oregon. Hell, maybe even Seattle. Wherever she went, she needed a bigger place, and perhaps somewhere she could settle down, buy a house and start a new career.
Lone Pine had jumped at her extensive knowledge of the coffee industry, and against the local opinion, had hired her on at the espresso shop. Denny knew that coffee and food wasn’t in her future career plans, but for the time being, it got her a quick job with a few bucks to save.
Denny flopped down on her bed, the same room she’d rented the night she arrived in town. Her cell phone was placed beside the lamp, 1 NEW VOICE MESSAGE blinked in the window. Picking up the small device, dark brows drawn as she rarely got calls. Listening to the message left, Denny felt her heart begin to pound.
* * *
Rachel sat in the chair, trying to be as still as possible as the girl put the last touches on her face, the blonde’s hair already coiffed to perfection. The young makeup artist took a step back, admiring her handy work.
“Are you ready, Miss Holt?” the production assistant asked, clipboard in hand.
The author nodded, feeling her palms beginning to sweat. “I’m ready.”
PART 19
“WELCOME BACK, AND thanks for joining me on Conifer Talks. I’m sitting here next to one of the hottest young authors of her generation, Rachel Holt.” The talk show hostess turned to look at her guest. “Now, Rachel, before the break, you mentioned that you’d recently bought a house.”
“Yeah. I bought a place in the north west.”
“You had disappeared for quite some time,” Maureen Conifer said, chin resting on a loose fist. “Where did you go?”
Rachel tried not to squirm in the armchair, as always, hating the intense scrutiny on her. She had initially wanted to turn down Maureen’s invite to the show to promote her new book, but her publisher wouldn’t hear of it. They insisted.
“Well, I need some time by myself. Things were pretty crazy when we got back,” Rachel explained, crossing one leg over the other, hand absently straightening her skirt as she did.
“So where did you go? Your editor, Reenie Bazilton is out of New York. And you gals are pretty good friend, right?”
“Yes,’ Rachel hedged, wondering where the line of questioning was going. One thing she hated most about interviews were all the personal questions. Rachel was a very private person, and hated having to stay on her toes for an hour. Even so, Maureen Conifer was the only journalist she’d ever allowed to interview her, trusting her ethics, and a sense of mutual respect.
“Well, I wondered if perhaps you had escaped to the Big Apple to throw off the hounds for a bit.” The talk show hostess smiled. Rachel chuckled, shaking her head.
“No. I actually rented a small cottage in Colorado for awhile. It gave me a chance to write in peace.”
“Speaking of,” Maureen took Rachel’s book from the small table placed between their armchairs. “Lost In Paradise, the name of your newest novel, which will be out on shelves Tuesday.” The hostess turned to the audience. “And everyone will be getting a signed copy today.” She waited until the crowed died down before continuing. “This novel, in my opinion, is your best work to date, Rachel.”
“Thank you.” The blonde couldn’t help but feel shy and a little overwhelmed by all the attention.
“Now, the two year anniversary of the crash is today. What are your thoughts, all this time later? I mean, this time last year, you and the other Island Six were still lost at sea.”
Rachel nodded, sipping from the glass of water provided by the props man. “It’s very strange. It’s funny you mentioned, that, because I was actually thinking about this very same thing this morning when I arrived in LA. So much has changed since I boarded that plane. My life has certainly changed,” she said, placing a hand to her upper chest, mindful of the microphone clipped to her shirt there. It’s been a time of growth and healing for me.”
“Well, I certainly think that shines through in your writing, Rachel. This novel, I’m assuming, is a fictitious account of your time with, what you’ve been quoted as calling, your ‘island family’. So tell me,” Maureen said, a twinkle shining in her blue eyes, “what parts are true?”
“Oh, no, no, no!” Rachel laughed, sitting back in her seat. “I am not going to tell you that.”
“Oh, come on!” the talk show hostess baited. “The kite made with fig leaves? The masher? What is real and what came from your imagination?”
“My lips are sealed.” Rachel grinned.
“Okay, okay. I see I’m not going to get anywhere with that. Tell me a little about your time there, Rachel. Was it paradise, or more like hell?”
“Which day?” A round of chuckles arose through the crowd. “We had our days where it was amazing, the most beautiful place in the world. And,” she shrugged, “we had our days where it was really hard. The day you got a skull-splitting headache and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it. Or days when you missed your family so bad you could taste it. Especially those with us who had children back home, thinking their parent was dead. It was really hard on them.”
“No doubt. Why the title, why Lost In Paradise?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel’s voice turned somewhat wistful, thinking back to her state of mind during the writing of the novel. “I guess because I felt like I did lose parts of myself those fourteen months. When I got back, I just wasn’t quite sure who I was anymore.”
“And it must have had a harsh effect on your life. Not long after you returned, you and your husband, Matt Frazier.”
Rachel cleared her throat. “I refuse to talk about that, Maureen. That part of my life is over, and it’s a private matter.”
“Fair enough. Alright, well, let me ask you one thing,”
Rachel nodded, a little nervous at what the talk show hostess would ask. She tried to steel herself.
“What do you miss most about the island? If anything.”
The blonde smiled, her answer automatic, no thought required. “The Island Six. I miss my island family.”
“We miss you, too, darlin’.”
Rachel’s eyes widened, the deep twang resonating through the studio over a loud speaker. She turned in her chair, looking desperately for the owner of the voice. The crowd’s uproar finally made Rachel turn to her right, her hand going to her mouth. Michael walked out onto the stage, a grin on his face and single red rose in his hand. Dressed in Wranglers, flannel shirt and Stetson, the handsome Texan opened his arms wide, the blonde flying into them.
“Oh my god, I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed, voice muffled against his chest, which she swore had gotten bigger. She started, feeling a tap on her shoulder. Pulling slightly away from Michael’s embrace, Rachel’s eyes filled even more
when Mia, grinning, handed her a second rose. Engulfed by the girl, Rachel became overwhelmed as Dean sauntered onto the stage, rose between his perfect teeth. The author laughed through her tears, taking the flower from him, and accepting a kiss and hug. Pam walked out, arms already opened wide, ready to accept one of her other children into her arms. Rachel cried against her shoulder, unable to get herself under control.
“Hello, sweetheart,” the veterinarian said into her ear, the blonde barely able to hear above the cheers from the audience. Rachel pulled away, trying to clear the tears from her eyes as she sobbed. Her breath caught as she spotted her over Pam’s shoulder.
“Denny,”
Denny couldn’t take her eyes off the author, her own rose twisting between her thumb and forefinger. She watched as Rachel hurried over to her, almost knocking the breath out of her with the force of her embrace.
“Oh, god, Denny,” Rachel whispered, burying her face in the brunette’s neck. Denny held her, feeling her world righted for the first time since the day she’d watched Rachel climb into that plane and fly out of her world. The rest of the word disappeared, only Denny’s warmth against her existing, for five straight minutes. Finally the blonde pulled away, looking up into Denny’s own tear-streaked face. She reached up, briefly touching her cheek, dimly aware that Maureen was sending them to a commercial break.
“And, we’re clear!” a crew member announced.
Rachel turned on the hostess. “I can’t believe you did this to me!” she accused, tears still flowing down her face. Maureen’s face couldn’t have been more alive with her smile, having to hold her own emotion back. It had been a gamble, not entirely certainly how Rachel would react, but it couldn’t have been better. Ratings were going to be through the roof!
Rachel found herself surrounded by her family as prop people quickly took away the two armchairs, replacing them with a long couch and five more glasses of water, microphones waiting for them.
“Hey, baby girl,” Dean said, taking Rachel in another hug, careful to not smash the roses she held. She hugged Dean back, then looked at everyone, her face about to split wide open with the grin. She noticed that everyone had been crying, too. It took everything she had to not bat the makeup girl away as she touched up her artwork.
“I can’t believe you guys are all here. My god, I’m so stunned.” Rachel found herself the middle of an Island Six sandwich, the group hug lasting until they were told to take their places.
Everyone was fitted with a microphone, Rachel flanked by Dean and Mia, Dean immediately taking the blonde’s hand. He squeezed it, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You look beautiful.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then wrapped his other hand around Denny’s who sat on the other side of him. She grinned, ever grateful to get that call from him on a lonely May night.
The Island Six stayed for the rest of the show, telling amusing stories about their time on the island, as well as sharing details of their current lives. Rachel couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. Denny was on the other side of Dean, and she swore she could feel her presence there, and had to fight against leaning forward to look at her. But all in all, she felt giddy.
Dean smiled out at Will, who had been planted out in the audience, along with everyone else’s families. He was thrilled to be amongst his faux family again. He loved every single one of them, and though his life was a happy one, nothing made him feel so completely happy as to have Will and the Island Six all in the same room. He couldn’t wait to introduce them all.
Mia could feel fresh emotion in her throat, ready to burst the first moment she was allowed. It felt so amazingly right sitting there next to Rachel and Michael, the big Texan’s arm around her shoulders, Rachel’s hand wrapped around her own. She was nervous to be on national TV, but it just didn’t seem to matter.
Michael felt like a proud father all over again. Beautiful Mia sitting next to him, his protective nature immediately kicking in. He kept glancing down the line, seeing all the familiar faces, yet everyone looked so different. Even still, the camaraderie and bond was still there, still as strong as ever.
Pam, sitting on the other end of the couch, rested her hand on Denny’s shoulder, feeling the warm strength beneath the gorgeous brunette’s shirt. Their thighs were touching along their length, and Pam couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. She couldn’t wait to introduce Tracy and Luke to everyone, and vice versa.
Denny sighed in contentment for about the third time. Everything she’d been searching for clicked into place the moment everyone began to file into the Green Room, put through makeup and hair. It had been emotional for all of them, not much said, just tight hugs and meaningful kisses. Denny had been so excited to see the blonde for the first time, yet nervous. She was afraid she’d feel the same way, and afraid she wouldn’t. Not having any clue what to expect, Denny had held onto the rose she’d been given and had awaited her cue. She had actually been slated to go on after Michael, but Dean had insisted she trade places with him and bump Mia up. He said she should make a ‘dramatic entrance’. So, she had.
When she’d felt Rachel against her, their bodies melding together, Denny had wanted to cry just from the sheer bliss of it all. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, never knowing anything to wonderful or right in her life.
The show was brought to the end, and as the audience members milled about, talking to the Island Six, and swarmed Rachel, Michael walked over to Dean, who stood with a tall man with a handsome face and sandy-colored hair. He put a large hand to the attorney’s shoulder.
“Hey, Dean, come with me fer a minute. I want y’all ta meet my kids.” Dean followed the mechanic to a group of three, still sitting in their seats. Dean smiled at all of them- a very pretty teenaged girl, a young boy and good-looking twenty-something. “Dean, this here is my eldest boy, Alan, my little angel, Jennifer, and my youngest, Conrad.”
“I’ve heard so much about you three,” Dean said, giving them his biggest smile.
“Kids, this here is Dean.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Dean,” Alan said, taking the attorney’s proffered hand. Jennifer smiled and gave him a quick hug, remembering how fondly her father had talked about the handsome man. Conrad, somewhat shy, shook his hand, nodding acknowledgment.
Will, who had followed behind, was quickly introduced to the big man, then his kids.
“It is an absolute pleasure, Will,” Michael said, taking the architect’s hand in both of his. “Dean sure loves you an awful lot.”
Will smiled. “It’s very mutual. I’m so sorry about your wife.”
“Thank you.” Michael tipped his hat.
“Hey, we’re all talking about getting together for dinner,” Mia said, walking up to the small group. Dean put his arm around the girl’s shoulders, pulling her into his side. Her arm automatically went around his waist.
“Hell, yeah!” Michael said, nodding.
Denny stood off to the side, watching as the studio began to clear, the Island Six standing in a small group, Rachel cornered by the producer of Maureen Conifer’s show. The blonde glanced up, nodding at the something the man was saying, her gaze meeting that of Denny’s. They shared a smile, then the author gave her full attention back to the man.
“So we’re talking about dinner, everyone catching up. You in?”
Denny turned to see Pam standing next to her. The brunette gave Rachel one last look, then nodded. “Yeah. That would be good.”
“It’s so good to see you, Denny. I’ve really missed everyone.”
Denny gave the veterinarian her full attention, giving the her a tight hug. “I’ve missed everyone, too. It’s been a helluva year.” She grinned, the older woman nodding in agreement.
“Amen to that!” Suddenly Pam squeezed Denny’s shoulder then walked away. Confused, the brunette realized that Rachel was walking toward her. Taking a deep breath, she turned toward her.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” Rachel looked up into th
e blue eyes that had haunted her for so long. She reached out, briefly touching the brunette’s arm. She wanted to hug her again so badly, but dozens of eyes were on her, and she didn’t feel comfortable.
“We’re all talking about going out for dinner, catching up. You interested?”
“Definitely.” Rachel looked into Denny’s face. She looked good, her eyes bright and alive. Skin smooth and much softer than the deeply tanned, almost leathery appearance the last time she’d seen her. She looked casual in jeans and a capped sleeved tee shirt. “You look good.”
Denny smiled, making her face all the more beautiful in the blonde’s eyes. “Thank you, Denny.”
“Congratulations on your book. I’m so proud of you.” Denny gave the blonde a quick hug, knowing they had to be careful. What she really wanted to do was take Rachel in her arms and never let her go again.
“Listen, I’ve got a better idea. I’ve got a suite downtown. Why don’t you all come over?”
Denny smiled with a nod. “Sounds great. I’ll tell everyone.”
* * *
The Ambassador Suite on the fourteenth floor at the Regent Beverly Wilshire was more than any of the remaining Island Three could take in one look. Rachel was used to it, as her publisher had put her up there many times over the years. All eyes were open wide as they took in the 1800 sq. ft. space, the rich, luxurious appointments and huge marble bathroom. Will and Dean were also used to such luxuries.
“Good god almighty,” Michael breathed, “And I thought the Blue Room was nice!”
“That’s the Green Room, there, Red,” Dean smirked.
“Well, them walls was painted blue.”
Rachel chuckled, walking over to the phone. “Who’s hungry?” A round of agreement, she ordered ten large pizzas to accommodate the six islanders, as well as Will and Gloria. She remembered the appetite Michael had. “Make yourselves comfortable, guys. Please, enjoy all this opulence, cause I know I certainly won’t.”
