When I Wake

by Rachel Lee

  Luis looked at her and spoke, and this time she read his lips without any trouble. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She didn’t know how to respond, and didn’t have time to, because just then the door opened and Dugan entered the room. He looked pale and fatigued, and was still wearing his wet suit. But he carried a bag with him, and without a word he opened it and pulled the mask of the Storm Mother from it.

  Then he put it in Veronica’s trembling hands. “For you,” he said simply. “For you.”

  She hardly looked at it. Instead she pushed it aside on the table and jumped to her feet. A moment later she was in Dugan’s arms, holding close the most important thing in her world: him.

  Chapter 23

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Veronica had spoken the words a dozen times since her father’s return from Tampa yesterday. Orin, who was still in remission, seemed to be growing stronger by the day and was even thinking about joining Dugan, Tam, and her on the Mandolin for the next trip, once the ketch was fully repaired, and once Tam was fully recovered.

  In the meantime, the tropical days hung heavily on Veronica’s hands. The mask, the cause of so much trouble, had been sent to the university in Tampa for safekeeping. Veronica hadn’t even tried it on, and Orin didn’t especially want to see it.

  He turned to her now and held out his arms to give her a hug.

  “It’s okay,” he said, smoothing her hair. “It’s okay. I understand what you were going through. And you were right that I made a big mistake by withholding the whole story. Sweetie, I understand.”

  But she still wasn’t prepared to fully forgive herself, and sometimes she thought what a fool she’d been, to have wasted so much precious time, time that could never be recovered, by being angry with her father. “You were trying to protect me,” she said. “I understand that now.”

  “Well, I don’t seem to have saved you any trouble at all,” he said ruefully.

  He said something else, too, but his head had turned away a little too much, and all she could hear was the cacophony of vowels. She didn’t feel angry about that, though. Not this time. Orin tried hard not to forget her deafness, but he was old and tired, and sometimes forgetful. She loved that in him as much as she loved everything else.

  He looked at her again. “Dugan’s here. I just saw his car. Have a good time.”

  She gave him a quick squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, then went out to meet Dugan, who was just getting out of his car.

  “I like that,” he said, smiling at her over the top of the car.

  “Like what?”

  “A woman who’s on time.”

  She laughed for no special reason, other than that she felt really good. The past week had been difficult and exhausting. She’d had to talk to many strangers to get the whole matter sorted out, most especially explaining the dead man on the deck of the Mandolin, but that was behind her now, and she felt free.

  “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked before pulling away from the curb.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  He was going to teach her to dive. Once she had realized that she could hear better when she was submerged in the water, it had occurred to her that in the water she was at no disadvantage at all. She might never be able to teach again at the university—although she was beginning to think about ways to get around her hearing problems—but she could at least participate fully in her archaeological work the way she would have on dry land. She was even envisioning focusing her entire career on salvaging ships from the past.

  Dugan took her to a quiet, deserted bay, where the voices and noises of other people wouldn’t make it difficult for her to hear him. After an hour of instruction, they took a break to picnic on the narrow strip of sandy beach.

  “We can go again next week,” he told her. “The Mandolin will be ready.”

  “Great.” She sighed and looked out over the water. “What if Emilio comes back?”

  He drew her attention back to him. “I don’t think he will. From what Luis said, there’s someone else in the mix now, someone who was willing to drive Emilio off.”

  “But what if that guy comes after us.”

  “Luis said all he wanted was the mask. The mask is safely in a museum. Honestly, honey, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

  He was calling her honey more and more often, and every time he did, her heart gave a little leap, only to crash in despair. No man would want her. She was deaf. And while Dugan seemed to handle it with grace and ease, she figured it had to annoy him at times. It certainly annoyed her, and it was her problem. Why would he want to take it on?

  Besides, he’d barely touched her since the rescue. Once or twice he’d touched her hand, but that was it.

  He touched her now, his fingertips lightly caressing the back of her hand as she leaned on it.

  “Are you sure you want to keep helping with the excavation?” she asked. “I know you have your business to worry about.”

  “Of course I want to keep helping. I haven’t had this much excitement in years. I’m not about to go back to being a mole.”

  She couldn’t resist. “But you hate to get wet.”

  He waved a dismissing hand. “The wet suit helps. Besides, after swimming all those hours in the dark water that night, I figure getting wet is a minor thing.”

  Then his fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged gently. Everything inside her seemed to go soft and weak as he drew her down to lie facing him.

  “Besides,” he said, looking right into her eyes. “I don’t want to be away from you.”

  Her heart seemed to stop, then it fluttered wildly as hope and disbelief filled her. “What?”

  “I don’t want to be away from you,” he repeated more firmly. “Look, I know I’m a quasi beach bum with a tiny diving business, and I know you’re a high-powered Ph.D. with a whole life back in Tampa but . . . well . . .” He sighed and closed his eyes a minute. When he opened them again, he sighed ruefully.

  “I swore I’d never do this again.”

  “Never do what?” Hope had her heart beating so painfully she thought it was going to burst from her chest.

  “I swore I’d never get involved again. Swore I’d never love again. Just goes to show, if you say you’ll never do something, life will make you eat your words.”

  “Dugan?” She was afraid to believe what she was hearing, and his name passed her lips sounding like a plea.

  “How about you?” he said. “Are you still resolved to avoid getting involved?”

  It was a straightforward question, one she felt she must answer. But the words were so difficult to find, so at last she said only, “No.” Because she was already involved, and she knew it.

  “Great. So if I hang around a while, there might be a remote possibility that you could come to love me? Just a little?”

  Her breathing had become rapid as her heart pounded madly with excitement and joy. “Umm . . .”

  “I know, I know, I’m asking a whole lot.” Some of the hope left his face, and he started to look away, but before he could, she caught his chin and kept him turned toward her.

  “I’m already involved,” she said, her voice trembling. “I already love you.”

  He looked almost skeptical, even as hope filled his eyes. “Really?”

  “Honestly. I didn’t want to but . . . I did. I fell in love with you.”

  He let out a whoop what was loud in her ears, then dragged her closer until he was holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. And she loved it. She loved every blessed second of it. It was like waking from a nightmare to a sunny morning. The past year slipped away like fog before the sunrise.

  Dugan was the light in her life, and the way he was holding her told her she was the light in his.

  And never had a morning been more beautiful.

  Epilogue

  Gold mask stolen

  TAMPA—A priceless gold mask, the only remaining artifact of
a lost Caribbean culture, was stolen over the weekend from the new Antiquities Museum at the University of South Florida. Police have no suspects at this time.

  The mask was the museum’s first acquisition. It was donated by Dr. Veronica Coleridge Gallagher, who discovered it and subsequently endowed the museum at the campus where she is a professor. . . .

  The news clipping, which had tumbled out of an envelope with a foreign postmark, fluttered to the table as Veronica dropped it. She had just gotten back from another week at sea excavating the Alcantara, and this was the first she had heard of the theft. Grabbing the envelope the article had come in, she pulled a sheet of folded notepaper out of it, fearing that she was going to find a mocking note from Emilio.

  Instead, she read, “The mask has returned to its rightful owners, the descendants of those who created it, those who know and cherish its power. We bless you, Daughter of the Storm, for helping to return it.”

  It should have mattered to her that she would never see it again, but somehow it didn’t. The mask seemed like the remnant of a nightmare, and it had lost its hold on her when she had awakened. She had other things to worry about, other discoveries to make and a whole new life to live with Dugan and a baby on the way.

  But for an instant she felt an overwhelming sense of completion and satisfaction. Turning, she tossed the article and the note in the trash.

  It was over.

  Dear Reader:

  Somewhere deep within me lies a frustrated fantasy writer. I have a strong attraction to stories of myth and legend that offer teasing glimpses beneath the veil of reality. But I also have the heart of a suspense writer. I like the grit and sinew of the real world, its pulse-pounding excitement and dangerous unpredictability.

  While writing WHEN I WAKE, I drew on my lifelong interest in Mesoamerican history to invent the Storm Goddess, her mask, and the woman who carries her legacy. Threading that alongside the real-world details of Veronica’s deafness and her relationship with Dugan Gallagher was just the kind of challenge that makes my artistic motor hum.

  So much so that I’ve decided to pull threads of suspense, romance and magic forward into my next Warner book, EYE OF THE JAGUAR, which will be released next summer. Set in the Museum of Antiquities that Veronica founded, the story concerns a stolen Mayan dagger that might very well be cursed, museum curator Anna Lundgren who’s determined to get it back, and a killer who can’t take his eyes off of her. Homicide detective Gil Garcia, whom you may remember from my earlier novel BEFORE I SLEEP, has more than a few reasons of his own to keep his eye on Anna. EYE OF THE JAGUAR is turning out to be my most suspenseful and surprising novel yet. I hope you will watch for it.

  I’m going back to my keyboard now.

  Best wishes,

  Rachel Lee

  RACHEL LEE, winner of numerous awards for her bestselling romantic fiction, is the author of Silhouette’s #1 miniseries, Conard County. She also writes lighthearted contemporary romances as Sue Civil-Brown. But suspense fiction that zings like a high-tension wire with excitement and passion has become her signature style—and has made her previous Warner book, Before I Sleep, one of the best romantic reads of the year! As Romantic Times says, Rachel Lee is “an author to treasure.”