Island Haven

by Amy Knupp

  Mercedes’s head snapped up in shock. “He doesn’t feel the same, Gram. I asked him to stay and he left anyway.”

  Her grandma nodded and frowned. “That’s unfortunate and I’m very sorry about it. Nothing quite compares to the agony of having one’s heart broken.”

  Agony. That was a good word.

  “Why did you say ‘thank goodness’ then?”

  Gram breathed in deeply, lifted her chin and stared Mercedes down. “I’ve been worried about you, Sadie. For some time now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re such a dear, caring girl to devote so much of your time to this old woman. I was afraid you were using that as an excuse not to have your own life.”

  “I have a life.” She sniffed and took the tissue from the front pocket of her shorts to dry her face once again.

  “You have a good life. Friends, job. But Sadie, you’ve not had a serious boyfriend once since you moved in.”

  “I’ve never had a serious boyfriend, Gram. It’s not because of you. Although…yeah. I have some things I’m trying to work through. To not be so scared.”

  “As I suspected.”

  “Asking him to stay was a huge thing for me.” She studied Gram’s bony, veiny hand on her leg, running her fingers over the back of it. “And look where it got me.” The lump in her throat swelled up again, and she closed her eyes. She was so tired of feeling this way. It had been less than twenty-four hours, but crying was getting so old.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. It hurts. May have been a century ago, but I’ve been there.”

  The thought of Gram young and in love made Mercedes smile. “Surely no man left you hanging.”

  “There was one,” Gram said, her voice distant as she seemed to go back in time, remembering. “I would’ve done anything for him. Thought the world revolved around him. He broke my heart.”

  “Really? So what’d you do?”

  “I waited for him to get his head screwed on straight.”

  “Did he?”

  “He came back and asked me to marry him in 1947.”

  Mercedes let that sink in. “Grandpa?” she asked, astonished to discover the marriage that had lasted for so many years until her grandpa’s death had such a precarious start.

  Gram grinned. “Men can be slow. Maybe Scott will get his head screwed on straight and realize you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

  “I don’t think so, Gram. But I do know one thing. I’m tired of crying. I think Charlie’s afraid to be alone in a room with me.” She managed an embarrassed laugh. “I’ll be okay.”

  Her grandma took her hand. “Cry if you need to, Sadie. No matter what, I’m proud of you. I know going to Scott took courage.”

  Mercedes nodded, but her heart wasn’t really into it. Working up the nerve to ask Scott to stay had been monumental. But what good was courage and risk when she only ended up feeling like this?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  SCOTT HAD ALWAYS THOUGHT he was emotionally wrung out after a twenty-four-hour shift of nonstop EMS calls. Turned out being a paramedic had nothing on real life some days.

  As he took the elevator up from the lower-level hospital cafeteria, his hands filled with pretzels, mini donuts and a highly caffeinated, full-of-sugar soda, he amended that thought. If today had been a work shift, then all the calls had had happy endings. Even if getting to those endings had been draining and stressful.

  The elevator doors opened on the main floor and a large man with his hands full got on and quickly took up more than his share of space.

  “Sorry, man.” The guy was barely visible behind a large bouquet of roses, three gift bags with tissue poking out and a gigantic white teddy bear. He shuffled the bear under his elbow and Scott got a better view of him.

  He looked as if he could be a professional wrestler. He had a good three inches and a hundred pounds of muscle and broadness on Scott. His arms were heavily tattooed, a humorous contrast with the fluffy bear. A small hoop hung from one ear, and he wore a thick silver chain around his neck.

  The beefy guy glanced around the flowers to check which elevator buttons were lit up. He nodded in satisfaction. “You going to Labor and Delivery, too?”

  “Yep.” Scott couldn’t take his eyes off all the loot.

  “You stocking up on junk food for your wife?”

  “This is all for me. Going to visit my…sister.” It was the first time Scott had called her that out loud. He was surprised at how okay it felt to say it.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” the guy said contritely. “I went overboard.”

  “I don’t know,” Scott said, grinning. “Did you bring something for everyone in the wing?”

  The guy laughed. “It’s all for my wife. Well, the bear is technically for my brand-new daughter, but she’ll have to grow into it.”

  The elevator seemed to move at a snail’s pace. Scott tuned in to make sure it was, in fact, still moving.

  “I’m not going to apologize to anyone, man,” Beefy Guy continued.

  “No,” Scott said, hiding his amusement.

  “It’s just that…” The guy shrugged with one shoulder. “I’ve got the best woman in the world. And now the best baby girl. I feel like I’ve got everything a guy could ever want.” He lifted the hand that held the gift bags. “Even if that little package there is going to put me in the poorhouse for the next five years.”

  “You got her some bling?”

  “A ring. Diamonds and sapphires. Her favorites.”

  “Nice.”

  “Call me whipped or whatever, man.” The beefy guy’s voice was lower, conspiratorial. “I can own that. When you’ve got an amazing woman, you can’t take her for granted. You’ve got to do whatever you can to keep her.”

  Something about his words made Scott uneasy, and he checked to see which floor was lit up. One more floor to go. He tapped his fingers against the elevator wall, itching to get out. At last the doors slid open and he did his best to exit at a normal pace.

  “Take it easy,” the guy said.

  “Have a good one.”

  When Scott reached Gemma’s closed door, he paused. The man’s words seemed to hang in the air. Taunt him. He shook his head, as if to get rid of them, and opened the donuts. Instead of heading into her room, he wandered down the hallway with no particular destination in mind.

  When you have an amazing woman…

  Mercedes was an amazing woman. As Gemma had pointed out, she was lightness and caring to Scott’s dark selfishness. She was always giving, without questioning. Her mind automatically jumped to the positive side of everything but not in a can’t-handle-the-bad-stuff way. She was the strength of her little family, he’d figured that out even in the short time he’d spent with each of them.

  Scott had spent half a lifetime holding on to all the bad stuff. He hadn’t always been like that. The kid version of him, the one who spun tales with happy endings at the harbor park, had been happy. Focused on the bright side of everything.

  It wasn’t tough to figure out when he’d changed. When his family had fallen apart, he’d lost himself. He’d let anger and a grudge the size of the Gulf of Mexico rule him. That blackness he’d let grow had colored everything—his relationships with others, or lack thereof, his job…

  Though emergency medicine included a lot of death, there were countless stories where he and his colleagues had been able to turn things around for a patient. Greg Wolf, the newlywed dad-to-be popped into his head. He hadn’t even recognized Greg, still couldn’t remember a thing about the call that had saved Greg’s life. How many other calls like that were there, that Scott had buried in order to focus on the ones with tragic ends?

  Then there were the less obvious ones, like Brad Gilbert’s son. Though Scott hadn’t been able to save Elliott’s life, according to Brad, Scott’s best efforts had helped him find peace. Whether Scott agreed with or understood Brad’s assessment or not, he’d apparently had a positive effect. But all he’d
seen was the negative.

  Day after day.

  His job had been intense, and losing a patient would never be easy to swallow, but maybe Rafe was on to something with his talk about perspective.

  It was easier to see the negative, but the positive had been staring him right in the face.

  When he’d confessed his failure at abstaining from alcohol the other night, Mercedes hadn’t thought twice about it. Hadn’t backed away. All she’d done was encourage him. Offer him hope.

  And he’d walked away.

  Idiot.

  Gemma had accused him of running away from those who needed him, just like his dad. Well, it was time to stop running. It appeared his dad had kicked the habit and Scott was going to, as well. Mercedes didn’t need him, but she’d said she wanted him. He hoped his stupidity and stubbornness, his inability to recognize the best thing in his life, hadn’t blown his chances with her.

  If she’d let him, he was going to spend a lifetime doing whatever he could to keep her. But first he had to go get her.

  * * *

  MERCEDES WAS PUSHING her horse and she knew it.

  They’d been out for almost two hours, and she hadn’t had much use for a relaxed walk or a gentle trot. It seemed they couldn’t gallop enough, though, for Mercedes to work out her anger.

  She’d spent a good twenty-four hours wallowing and sniffling around. When she’d woken up this morning, she’d transitioned to mad. Ticked that Scott was too chicken to give them a chance. Pissed that he’d fallen off the wagon. Irate that she’d finally, for the first time in her life, gotten up the nerve to love somebody—let alone tell him she loved him—and he’d walked away.

  Charlie had suggested something about the various steps of grieving. Mercedes didn’t know the steps or their order and didn’t care. She just wanted to burn off all the emotions and get back to her even-keeled life.

  How could you grieve someone who’d never been yours in the first place?

  Winded, she slowed Nutmeg as they reached the end of a meadow. “You are so getting an extra treat when we get back to the stables,” Mercedes said, rubbing the horse’s neck.

  As her breathing slowed, she thought she heard another horse coming toward them through the woods. Exactly what she didn’t want. She’d come out here on a Sunday morning to be alone. Without waiting around to see if she was right, she turned Nutmeg around and ordered her to gallop back across the meadow.

  She and Nutmeg were three-quarters of the way across the meadow, nearly to the trees on the other side, when she thought she heard a yell. Without turning around, she urged Nutmeg to go faster, to no avail. The horse instead slowed, going against Mercedes’s commands for the first time ever in all the years she’d ridden her. Proof that she had indeed pushed Nutmeg too hard. “Sorry, girl.”

  “Mercedes!”

  She blinked. Frowned.

  She knew that voice.

  It took more courage than it should have to turn around and verify that it was, indeed, Scott.

  He was really there, sitting atop Serrano, slowing to a trot thirty feet away. She stared, her voice failing her, her emotions such a wild conglomeration she couldn’t decide how seeing him made her feel. Mad, because she had been all morning and it was tough to put the brakes on it—and seeing his face wasn’t enough to assuage her. Hopeful because, well, he was here. Concerned because he was supposed to be getting ready to be on a ship the next day, sailing away. Afraid that this was going to end even more painfully than the last time they’d parted.

  He dismounted and walked toward her and Nutmeg with long, purposeful strides, his face unreadable. He wore jeans, a black T-shirt and a pair of new-looking black boots. And a black cowboy hat.

  “Nice hat,” she finally said as she swung her leg over Nutmeg and slid down to the ground.

  He broke out into a slow smile, as if he knew his dimples were her biggest weakness. “It’s not a Stetson, but it’ll do. You’re a tough one to track down.”

  “Gram basically forced me out of the house. What are you doing here?”

  He stepped closer. “I thought maybe you’d want to see this.” He dug in his pocket and took out his phone.

  When she realized it was a picture of Gemma’s baby, she pulled it close. Gemma had texted her photos, but Mercedes couldn’t get enough. This one was of Scott holding Sam in the crook of his arm. The juxtaposition of the hard-living tough guy with the tiny, brand-new boy brought tears to her eyes.

  She wiped them brusquely away, repeating to herself yet again the promise she’d made to herself. No more tears.

  “Beautiful picture,” she said, handing it back. “I hope to drive up to see them next weekend,” Mercedes said. “Aren’t you supposed to be heading for a ship somewhere?”

  “I made a mistake.”

  A mistake. Wrong start date? Wrong city? She looked at him in confusion.

  “I turned down the job on the cruise ship.”

  “You turned it down.”

  “Because I’m an idiot.”

  “You turned it down because you’re an idiot?”

  “I came back because I’m an idiot. Mercedes…” He shoved his hands into his front pockets, shook his head.

  She closed her eyes, tried to close out any hope his words awakened. Her heart felt bruised, raw. It wouldn’t take much to make it ache again.

  “You left, Scott.” Mercedes looked to the side, out over the miles of land that stretched below them. “You walked away.”

  “I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life, but that one’s at the top of my list.”

  She battled the hope trying to surge inside her with everything she had. “That was less than two days ago. What could possibly change in two days?” She swallowed, fighting to keep her voice steady.

  Scott took her hand in his, weaving their fingers together. “Let’s see. In the past twelve hours, I made peace with my dad, made up with Gemma, met my brand-new nephew, quit my job before starting it and drove all night because even with all that, something still isn’t right.”

  She met his gaze, trying to absorb what he’d told her. “You and your dad?”

  “I forgave him.”

  “That’s great, Scott. Gemma said she’s getting along okay with him, as well.”

  Scott nodded. “It’s not a big happy family yet. Might never be. But at least we’re all talking. Trying.”

  “You drove all night?” she asked as she sorted through what he’d said.

  “Haven’t slept since Friday night. So if I botch this up, I’ll try to blame it on exhaustion.”

  “Botch what?”

  He brushed his knuckle along her jaw. “Telling you what I came to tell you.”

  “Okay…?” Her heart thundered in anticipation.

  “I came back because of you.”

  God, that sounded good, but…

  “You quit your paramedic job, Scott. You left because you needed to escape.”

  “It wasn’t the place I needed to escape from. It was my frame of mind. The anger I’ve been harboring for so long. I’ve let that go.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that after more than ten years.” He brushed her hair back and looked earnestly into her eyes. He was more unguarded than ever before. Open. Vulnerable.

  “Have you really thought this through? You’re okay with staying here? Because I’m kind of committed to the island.”

  “I thought it through for six and a half hours in the car. I’m committed to being where you are…if I’m welcome.”

  “You are, but…”

  “But?”

  “What are you going to do for a career? I don’t want you to feel forced to go back to the job you hated.”

  “I made some calls this morning. Nothing official, but it looks like I’ll be able to get some part-time hours teaching paramedics classes.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  His lips curved upward, faintly displaying his dimples. “When I got here, I talk
ed to Maria and her husband. Apparently they liked my idea of opening another stable on the island. They’ve been researching things like land, regulations, potential market. We’re just in the beginning stages of talks, but I might manage the stables on the island for them.”

  “That sounds good, Scott. Really good.” She was losing the battle. Hope was bubbling up twice as fast as she could find reasons to crush it. “All this in twelve hours, huh?”

  “All this because of you. Because I love you, Mercedes.”

  Forget the battle. Hope had pretty much washed away everything else inside her now. Blood rushed out of her head and into her chest. She wasn’t sure, but she might have actually swayed on her feet. She closed her eyes and let herself relish the moment. The tears were back, but this time she didn’t wipe them away. Because they were good tears.

  “I love you, too.”

  Mercedes slid her arms up his chest and around his neck, then planted a slow, expressive kiss on his lips because she couldn’t think of a better way to tell him how she felt. He pulled her closer and the kiss went on for so long that her horse snorted, making both of them laugh.

  “I’d invite you to my place to celebrate, but I don’t have a place,” Scott said in a sexy, gravelly voice.

  “You can come to my place, but our midday celebration will have to consist of tea and cookies with Gram. A rousing round or two of Scrabble. And maybe if I’m lucky—” she leaned close to his ear, whispering “—you can rescue me later, Mr. Paramedic.”

  “If that means what I’m thinking, I’ll be happy to rescue you every day. For the rest of my life.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Unraveling the Past by Beth Andrews!

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