The scream again, but this time a man’s voice. The father of the child? Were they looking for that crying baby? It was louder, they were getting closer. A man and a woman, shrieking through the golden forest. They were looking for that sobbing child and he had to get rid of the blanket.
The man hollered. It was so familiar. He knew the voice, he recognized the voice.
“Marco! Marco!”
The child’s name must be Marco. Then the blanket lifted. Gone. Someone had finally taken it off. The pale yellow light was blinding him.
“Marco!”
That voice. That voice. Don’t go away, he wanted to scream, but the burn in his throat stopped him. I’ve got your child.
I am your child.
“Marco, wake up!”
Through the blinding light, he saw a face. Black, desperate eyes. Demanding. Pleading. Crying.
The father. The father.
His own father had come to the forest to find him.
19
T he group of six who’d clung together in their storm reluctantly parted at the American Airlines ticket counter in Trinidad’s airport. Dane watched as Maggie and Dominic bent down to kiss Marco in his wheelchair. Again and again. Then they gave Dane bear hugs too, Maggie kissing his cheek tenderly and holding his face in her hands.
“I’d tell you to take care of my babies, but you’ve already proven that you know how.”
He grinned into the smiling blue eyes and reached over to touch her cheek. It felt so natural. “I promise to do my best.”
“And we’ll see you again?” she asked hopefully. “You’ll come to Boston? For the wedding, maybe?”
He was painfully aware of Ava standing just a few feet away, by Dominic. The wedding.
“We’ll see, Maggie. We need to get Marco up and running, then we’ll send him up so he can dance with you at his wedding. And I’ve got a company to put back together.” He held Maggie’s gaze, knowing words were unspoken and wishing he could make a firmer commitment. He glanced at Ava. “I certainly hope to see you and Dominic again.”
“Come on, Mama.” Ava took her mother’s arm. “Your flight is leaving in fifteen minutes.” She turned her attention to Dane. “Cassie and I will make sure they get on board, then we’ll meet you and Marco at the Utopia plane.”
She would come back with them but hadn’t committed to how long she’d stay. It terrified him to let her out of his sight. She had a habit of disappearing. “Don’t get on the wrong plane, princess. You’re not going to Boston.”
She deliberately widened her eyes and her lips curled in a slight smile. “Not yet.”
The four of them disappeared toward the gate, leaving Dane to guide Marco’s wheelchair. Dane watched Ava’s dark curls bounce with each step. Marco shifted and looked up at Dane over his shoulder. His face had filled out a little in the past ten days, but he still looked gaunt and drawn from his weeks without solid food.
He said nothing, but his expressive eyes got his message across.
“What?” Dane said defensively. “What’s the matter?”
Marco shook his head. “Take a picture. It lasts longer.”
Dane gave the chair a little shove. “You’re ready to fly, bucko. You’re starting to get your attitude back.”
“You got that right, Erikson. Bigger and badder than ever.” Marco’s shoulders shook in a spurt of laughter, and it made Dane smile, something he’d done a lot of since Marco woke up. Except for the day that he had to go to St. John to attend a service for Genevieve and spend some time with the Gileses, the last week and a half had been rich with laughter and hope and an unbelievable amount of love.
The day that Marco regained consciousness and finally told his story of survival, Dane wallowed in the joy of having his friend back and marveled at the strength of the family unit. The Santoris insisted that it was Saint Anthony himself who had found Marco in the street and dragged him to the Sendall Tunnel, where St. George’s homeless had holed up during the storm. Whoever it was, he had saved Marco’s life because the tunnel turned out to be the safest place in the entire city. Protected from the fury of the storm, Marco only remembered the noise and described it like a moving train blasting in his ears for hours. The noise and the searing pain in his head were the last things he remembered. During the cleanup the next day, rescue workers must have found him and sent him to the temporary ICU.
He did remember the nightmare of escaping the ship. After the captain announced their course to the skeleton crew, Jacques Basille had turned into a madman. Jacques fought with Captain Stuart, screaming and threatening and then pulling a gun and shooting him in the face. Fleeing from the witnesses, Jacques disappeared into the galley, and Marco managed to break in and found him turning on every gas jet on every stove, apparently having set an oven timer so it would spark in a prescribed amount of time.
With a gun to Marco’s head, Jacques dragged him through the emergency exit of the galley to a Zodiac life raft. They struggled, but Jacques won the fight with the threat of his gun, paddling away with Marco and knapsacks full of what must have been drugs. In less than five minutes, the Paradisio exploded, burning and burying nineteen men. They battled their way into the harbor of St. George’s and Marco nearly escaped, but Jacques shot at him as he ran into an alley. Except for the noise, that was the last thing he remembered.
As Marco grew stronger, they told him their story. Ava embellished Dane’s role as a hero, so he, in turn, downplayed what he still considered her impetuous act of foolishness in trying to hunt down Arnot. He only let Marco see Ava’s determination to figure out what happened to her brother. The two of them may have old wounds that needed to be healed, but Dane could see the genuine love between them.
The Santori reconciliation allowed him to witness Ava’s capacity for love and the incredible foundation that her family gave her. Raw emotions ripped at him when, alone in their hotel room, she showered that same love on him. Over and over, she took him to a physical ecstasy he hadn’t known was possible, and washed him with her own vibrant, dynamic form of affection.
In the back of his mind, he knew something had to happen. It couldn’t go on this way forever. It simply wasn’t possible to stay in a permanent state of infatuation. And yet, he couldn’t see an end to his feelings for her. When they danced around the subject, she just closed up and used words like inevitable and affair. Words he hated in the context of his feelings for her.
He pushed Marco out into the sunshine, where the Utopia Piper sat waiting for them. A physical therapist that Dane had hired waited by the plane with Captain Galbraith, ready to begin his month of treatment for Marco. Although he occasionally stumbled a bit, Marco had already made great strides toward recovery. His equilibrium was still way off—as were his sailing days—but he could get across a room now, and with the constant personal therapy Dane had arranged, he really would dance at his own wedding.
Dane didn’t question the wisdom of Cassie and Marco’s decision to go to Boston once he was well enough to fly, and get married there. It was right, he knew. Long-term treatment would be better in the States, and Marco ached to finally go home. They promised to come back after the baby arrived, but Dane sincerely wondered if they would. If Marco couldn’t sail…
“What are you scheming about up there?” Marco asked, breaking his reverie.
“Just thinking things through. Got a lot to go back to, Marc. Our little company is in shambles.”
“You planning to replace Paradisio?”
“It’s a long way off, I’m afraid. We’ve got some shocked and battered people and a whole bunch of ticked-off customers and a big fat public relations nightmare. I think we’ll get the other ships sailing slowly and build up to it.” Dane put a hand on Marco’s shoulder. “And I need to get you back eventually. Valhalla will need a first mate in the not too distant future.”
Marco sighed. “I don’t know yet. Gimme some time.”
“All you want.”
With the help of the phys
ical therapist, Dane got Marco on board the Piper Apache. He took a seat next to Marco and peered through the window toward the terminal, nursing the little nag that she might not come back.
“Don’t worry,” Marco said quietly. “Cassie won’t let her bolt.”
Dane smiled and looked at his friend. “You never know with that girl. She’s unpredictable.”
Marco shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. She’s so different now.”
“Well, it’s been five years. What was she—twenty-four when you left? Wait till you’re thirty. A lot changes.”
Marco shook his head. “No. I don’t think these changes happened until recently. I talked about it with my mother.”
“How is she different?” Dane asked, hoping his effect on her was positive.
“She’s confident. Secure. A little cocky, even.” Marco looked out the window beyond Dane. “Look at her. She even walks like a babe now.”
Dane turned his head, letting out a small sigh of relief at the sight of her. “She is a babe,” he said with a smile. My babe.
Marco cleared his throat, forcing Dane’s attention back to him. “Listen, I know you’re pretty tight with her. I can see that.” Marco leaned forward, his old passion showing in eyes still dimmed by pain and injury, “But she’s my sister, Dane. She’s not some model or debutante that you picked up on a cruise who goes gaga over your blue eyes and big house. She’s my sister.”
“I know that,” he responded softly.
“You can’t just treat her like those other girls.”
Dane said nothing. He turned away from Marco to watch her approach the plane, her head tilted toward Cassie, a sudden laugh lighting up her pretty face. He knew every inch of her body intimately. He watched her breasts move with her sexy walk and thought of how much pleasure she gave him. And he gave her.
But it had gone so far beyond pleasure that he didn’t know how to describe what he felt. He was no Santori, raised in a loud, loving, lusty family. He was from the icy cold Erikson clan. He had no idea how to love as much as she did.
Maybe it was just an affair, with the inevitable outcome. Maybe not.
“Well?” Marco was waiting for his response. He deserved one.
“This is different,” Dane said seriously. “This is really different.”
But he had no idea what to do about it.
Dane’s kitchen was getting frighteningly familiar. Over the course of just a few weeks, Ava had identified her favorite pans and had reorganized a drawer next to the stove to hold key utensils. Then she enhanced his pathetic collection of spices and arranged them alphabetically from allspice to white pepper. As Dane struggled with the problems of his business, even agreeing to media interviews to assuage nervous customers, she made herself at home in his magnificent house and felt guiltier about it each day. She shouldn’t get so comfortable. She couldn’t stay forever.
Cassie had ceased her warnings. Marco just whispered “be careful,” and the Utopians seemed to adopt her as one of their own. Even Marj treated her like the lady of the house, asking permission before cleaning something in the kitchen, or mentioning things they needed so Ava could add them to her shopping list.
But I don’t live here. Tonight, she’d tell him. She placed a batch of lemon chicken in the oven and closed the door with a sense of finality. She had to go home.
Just after sunset, he came home while she sat on the veranda nursing a cold glass of chardonnay. She’d mentally rehearsed her speech, knowing he’d try to talk her out of it. He’d try to buy more time. How long would it be until she’d overstayed her welcome? Cassie and Marco were going back in a few weeks. She would fly back with them.
He bent down to greet her with a kiss.
“Hello, princess.”
Oh, this was getting far too good. Too comfortable, too right. Which meant it would hurt that much more when it was over. She clenched her jaw to keep from announcing her intention. If she’d learned anything from him, it was how to wait for the right moment.
He glanced at the wine. “Great idea.” He crouched down next to her chaise and kissed her again, with meaning and intention. As always, a tingling reaction shot straight through her. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he promised. “I have to talk to you about something. Something important.”
His blue-green eyes danced a little, making her shiver. What could it be, she wondered as he left. And should she tell him her decision first, or let him talk? She was still undecided when he returned.
“You look pensive,” he said as he dropped into a chair next to her and held a matching glass toward her for a quick toast. “You okay?”
She clinked his glass with her own. “Salud. Yes. I’m fine.”
He held the wine to his mouth but didn’t drink. “Liar.”
“What did you want to talk to me about?” She crossed her legs and tried to offer her most casual smile.
“Anything.” With his left hand, he reached over and took her fingers. “I could talk to you about anything and it would be fun. I never get bored.”
Her heart flipped a little and she took a shaky sip of wine. “But you said you had something to tell me. What’s it about?” A tingling sense of anticipation teased her tummy.
“Food. It’s about food.”
She coughed back a laugh. So much for secret fantasies. “Food? Well, I can probably help you there.”
“You can.” He leaned forward, a serious look on his face. He rubbed his hand across his stubble, grown from the long day but sure to be shaved before they got in bed together. “And I want you to consider this very seriously.”
Her heart started to knock her ribs. Where was he going?
“I want you to stay and take over Arnot’s job.” He broke into an expectant smile. “Isn’t it perfect? You’d be awesome, Ava. Head of Culinary Operations.”
A black wave of disappointment rolled over her and left her dumbstruck. Ava stared at him. He was serious. He wanted her to stay and work for him.
“Isn’t it a great idea? You’re so talented and you’d love the work…and…” His voice trailed off a bit as he studied her reaction. “And you could stay. Here. With me.”
“Until when?” she finally asked. “Until I get fired?”
“Ava. It’s not about the job,” he said. She could see the confusion and even a little fear in his eyes. “It’s just a…solution…for us to stay together.”
She slowly set her glass on the small table between them, certain he could see her hand shaking. She would not blow, she told herself. She would not have a temper tantrum or crying jag or otherwise mortify herself. She would leave with her dignity intact.
“We’re not a problem that requires a solution,” she said softly as she stood. “I’ve decided to go home. Tomorrow.” The word was out before she could swallow it back. Not waiting to see his reaction, she rose and walked toward the house.
Of course he would come to her. She knew he would. But he didn’t appear for over an hour. Enough time for the ache to turn into a black hole of pain and the tears that she’d fought for days to flow freely. By the time he stood silently in the doorway, she’d finished packing and washed her face.
He stayed there a long time, watching her zip the bag and flip it on a chair before he spoke.
“I really screwed that up, didn’t I?”
She smiled a little and shrugged. “I guess the tendency to speak before thinking is contagious. You’ll go back to your normal, deliberate self when I’m gone.”
He glanced at the suitcase on the chair. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Dane. I’m serious.” She pushed a wayward curl from her eyes and looked at him. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You know that I have to go home.”
He leaned against the doorjamb and ran both hands through his hair, a heavy sigh clearly communicating his frustration.
“I’m really sorry, Ava. You deserve moonlight and flowers and far more romantic words.”
“Romantic words?�
�� She laughed bitterly and turned to face the windows. “Not for a job offer, honey. I’m sure you lure your best employees with a fat paycheck and a no-fault contract.” She stared at the rising moon through the shutters. “One that you can get out of at a moment’s notice.”
A small grunt registered the hit. “I just want you to stay. I wanted a compelling reason to keep you from going back to the restaurant, back to your family, back to your life.”
Had he lost his mind? Didn’t he know that he was compelling enough?
“What happened to you?” She turned to him with fire in her eyes. “You were so smart. You got it. You got me. You understood exactly what made me tick, and how to make me happy. Deeply happy. Down-to-the-bone happy. Why would you even make a suggestion like that?”
As he closed the space between them, he reached for her, but she pulled her shoulders back and stepped farther away, as far back as she could go.
“I’m scared, Ava,” he whispered.
“Of what?”
“That I won’t know how to love you. The way you deserve to be loved. The way I want to love you.” His voice cracked a little, squeezing her heart. “I just have no idea how to promise what you…what you want.”
How could she convince him that it could last forever? She couldn’t. Maybe it just couldn’t last forever. Their inevitable parting scared her so much that she had to make it happen on her own terms.
She shook her head. “Well, I have no idea how to live that way. Temporary. As an employee. As a long-term guest. Never sure when the clock will run out on your affections.”
“Cassie and Marco lived together,” he said defensively. “That worked.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Cassie has a tattoo on her chest, Dane. We may get along great, but we’re different girls. I’m no free spirit tumbleweed who makes love during a job interview.” She stopped for a second and fought back a bitter laugh. “Well, maybe I did and didn’t realize it.”
Tropical Getaway Page 28
