A flood of sentences pouring from his mouth until he grew hoarse. Ceaseless chatter to fill the void—he seemed frightened whenever silence settled between them. She tried to offer him comfort, but talking left her exhausted. I need to tell him about Sarah. Each time she mentioned Sarah’s name, he’d interrupt and talk about something else. But like the pain, the sound of his voice gave her something to grasp onto. Light when the dark threatened to consume her.
He already knows about Sarah, he’s figured it out from the photo in my bag. The idea nagged her but did little to put her concerns to rest. She rubbed her fingertip over her lucky bracelet before hugging the picture frame close. I love you, Sarah. I promised I’d never leave you the day they laid you on my stomach. Her daughter had been so small yet so full of life. Even her reluctant grandmother Cybil had been instantly smitten when she’d finally arrived at the hospital the morning after Sarah’s birth. She wrote a popular song afterward and dedicated it to Sarah.
Her mother didn’t even know Sarah’s father was Jonathon Breck. Phoebe had shared a half-truth—a random drunken college fling, but she’d lied about not knowing the guy’s name.
What if she died and Sarah never learned the truth? She’d protected her from the imagined monster she’d made Jonathon into, but had she been fair? I should’ve given him a chance, she thought. An opportunity to prove himself, after all he wasn’t some burned out pothead like her own father had been.
“She’s yours.” The words were a whisper. Jonathon didn’t respond, perhaps he hadn’t heard her. She tried to force the words out louder, but the effort was too much and only came out as a groan.
He’d slumped over her, but suddenly straightened. “I dozed off. Are you awake?”
She managed to nod.
“I destroyed the cameras,” Jonathon said. “They’ll notice the GPS down and come looking for us. They’ll be able to see the last place we were. Help will be here soon.”
Phoebe wanted to believe him. She tried to nod. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “I don’t think I can keep awake much longer, angel,” he said. “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.”
He’d said that once to her, and she’d slipped away as soon as he’d fallen asleep. This time, though, she wouldn’t leave him. She forced her eyes open, staring through the gaping hole above. Starlight twinkled, hinting at a beautiful night. She and Jonathon could’ve been above, huddled around a campfire. Her giving him the cold shoulder while he tried to draw her into conversation. Why was she mad at him? She couldn’t recall at the moment, which made her feel petty. Their issues above had been silly.
Tears slipped from her eyes and she blinked. The darkness returned, tugging her forward, but she shoved the tide back. Jonathon’s soft breaths of sleep sounded peaceful. She squeezed his hand, needing the connection with him to stay awake. The sounds of nocturnal birds and frogs filled the night, carrying on while their two human island mates faced life or death.
I wish we could’ve made love one more time. To let herself go in his embrace. Feel alive in ways she never allowed herself to be. Jonathon made her…feel.
He shifted. “Angel, are you awake?”
She nodded. “I’m here,” she whispered.
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good.”
Night turned into morning then shifted into night once more. Her leg had swollen to her toes. She alternated between shivering with cold and burning up with heat. Fever had taken hold, and with fever she knew there would be an infection.
Jonathon had tried again to find a way to climb out. A sad attempt which only brought down more dirt and sand. He was a caged lion, pacing the confines of its walls. She was useless, clinging to each of her heartbeats, each breath of the damp air. Rescue seemed hopeless as the night wore on.
Jonathon sat next to her and sipped water before offering her the rest in the bottle. The only bottle they had left, and he’d barely had any.
“Drink,” she whispered, her own throat raw from dehydration.
“I’m okay.” He was hoarse and trembling.
Night faded then the sun was up again. Weak orange light leaked into the hole. Phoebe fell into sleep, only to wake and fall asleep again. It’d grown difficult to fight the drowsiness. Jonathon drifted off nearly as much as her. Lack of water and food had worn him down too. Their chances were slim now, and Phoebe had almost made peace with the fact she’d die in paradise. Almost, but not quite, because she’d made a promise to her daughter. I’ll never leave you, Sarah.
She stroked her bracelet and said a prayer. Keep her safe. Let her know I loved her more than anything. My silver lining when everything had gone dark. The magic in my life I’m not sure I ever truly deserved. If only she’d said those exact same words to her out loud.
She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She didn’t want to go, she wanted to stay, here, in Jonathon’s arms. Phoebe wanted to hold her daughter one more time. Wanted to hear her giggles, her crankiness, and her melodic singing voice.
“Please, Jonathon.”
Her voice was so weak she barely heard it, but she needed him to help her ward off the darkness closing in. His eyes were shut, the hollowed shadows beneath them reminding her how he clung to life. He’d given her almost all of the water, and there was none left. A human could only last three days without water.
Her daughter’s face suddenly filled her vision. She heard her giggling while her teenie bopper rocker played on the radio. “Sarah.” Phoebe smiled, despite knowing it was a hallucination.
Sounds registered beyond the gloom, the radio grew louder. Doesn’t sound like music, it sounds like shouting.
Jonathon stirred, setting her head off his lap. She heard him rise then stumble.
“Hey!” he called in a raw voice. “Hey! Down here! Hey!”
It seemed like a dream. The desperate dream of a dying mind seeking solace.
Jonathon was near her again. She couldn’t find the strength to open her eyes.
“Phoebe, I hear voices. People are here for us. Phoebe? Angel?”
His hands covered her shoulders, she felt the pressure, but she was drifting from his grasp. The tide of a dark sea swept her farther from shore and there was absolutely nothing left in her to keep swimming.
“No. Angel, wake up. Phoebe. Phoebe!”
But she couldn’t go, not yet, and found the last reserve of strength left in her failing body. Her eyelids floated open, and she met Jonathon’s shimmering eyes. He’s crying. “Take care of Sarah,” she whispered.
Then the dark sea swept her under…
Chapter 17
Never had he felt such a mix of relief and terror. Jonathon gripped the bench as the boat sped toward the capitol. He stared at Phoebe’s ashen face, her closed, sunken eyes. She looked near death. His heart thudded behind his ribs. She’ll be okay. It’d become a mantra he repeated to himself as they raced over the ocean. If only they could’ve gotten a helicopter to get there quicker. Another bad storm had gathered, throwing down lightning bolts as they tried to beat it. A fluke system of bad weather for the dry season, which had grounded all air travel.
Thank God the producers had worried about the loss of their GPS signal, and the fact no one answered when they’d called the emergency cellphones. Breaking the cameras had worked. They’d used the last signal to pinpoint where to find Jonathon and Phoebe. A miracle to be grateful for, and he sent up a prayer of thanks.
Phoebe had lost a lot of weight and appeared nearly skeletal beneath her blankets. He’d give his entire fortune to see her open her eyes again.
“Your daughter needs you, Phoebe,” he said aloud.
He’d brought along the bag with the photo, the only one that had mattered, and placed the picture frame beneath her folded hands. Once rescuers had pulled her from the sinkhole, they’d done their best to temporarily stabilize the unconscious woman, giving her fluids and a huge dose of antibiotics before loading her onto the boat. He had an IV stuck in his arm too
. An annoyance, but already he felt stronger with the needed fluids. Another day and dehydration would’ve killed him, but his own close call with death didn’t hit him nearly as hard as seeing Phoebe clinging to life.
Phoebe let out a soft moan. She blinked sleepily then looked at him. He met her tired eyes and his heart turned over. “We’re on our way to a hospital,” he told her. She tried to move, but he placed his hand on her shoulder. “No, stay still.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Phoebe’s eyelashes fluttered closed.
“It was a nice vacation while it lasted, eh? Well, except for the falling down a sinkhole part. I could’ve done without that.”
He stroked her hair. Her lips twitched upward as if to smile.
“We have a pizza date once we get to the US I think,” he continued, feeling the need to fill the quiet between them. “Extra pepperoni, extra green peppers, extra olives.”
He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them before dropping a light kiss to her lips. How much longer would she have lasted in the sinkhole? Days? Hours? Minutes? A chill settled inside him, he knew the answer. Jonathon couldn’t imagine life without Phoebe. Once he returned to Dallas, and she to her home in northern California, he’d figure out a way to keep them connected. Sarah? If the girl was his, he’d have the right to visitation, but would he have to force the issue with Phoebe?
“You’re safe now, angel,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers, needing to redirect his thoughts. “You’ll be on your feet soon.”
They finally docked. Phoebe was rushed to a waiting ambulance, and despite his arguing, they insisted on transporting him separately. He didn’t need an exam, but at the hospital they checked him head to toe, telling him he’d suffered exposure, dehydration, and malnutrition. All things he already knew.
Afterward, he had to wait until doctors cleared Phoebe for a visitor then lied, telling them he was her fiancé so they’d let him into her room. He found her in a bed, her leg in a huge cast extending around her pelvis. Tubes carrying different fluids ran into her arms, an oxygen tube ran to her nose, a feeding tube to her stomach. He’d been told she had been heavily medicated for pain.
Jonathon took a chair next to the bed and, with nothing else to do, waited, feeling helpless. Hours wore on, and he tried to talk, but his energy lagged. A nurse brought him a tray of hospital food he nearly choked on while wolfing it down. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
After he finished eating, he stood next to Phoebe and took her fingers, careful not to disturb her IVs. “I think I’ve fallen a bit in love with you, Phoebe Heart.” He’d kept it bottled up inside for nearly a week since realizing the depth of his emotion. Saying it out loud lifted a weight off his shoulders. “I know it’s too early to have those feelings, but I can’t help it. You’re special. No, that’s not the right word. You’re incredible, you’re everything, angel. Everything.”
He lapsed into silence, and Phoebe slept on, oblivious. Jonathon dozed in the chair and dreamed he and Phoebe were still trapped inside the sinkhole. It was raining and lightning split the sky again and again like the first night on the island. But this time she wasn’t broken, and she straddled his lap, riding him to ecstasy.
He awoke with her cries still echoing in his ears and a terrible crick in his neck. Lightning flashed around the blinds and thunder filtered through the window. He rubbed the sore spot on the back of his neck, curious how long he’d slept, when he noticed Phoebe was awake. She leveled a druggy gaze on Jonathon.
“Hey, angel,” he said. He stood next to the bed and took her fingers again.
“Hi,” she returned. She licked her lips. He reached over and grabbed a pitcher filled with melting ice. He reached inside, took out a piece of ice, and wet her lips with it. She licked off the water. “Thank you. I feel funny.”
He chuckled. “I hear you’ve got some pretty great drugs pumping in your veins. I say enjoy it while it lasts.”
“What about my leg?” She sounded so tired.
“They had to do surgery to set the break. It’ll take a long time to heal, and you may have a limp.” He stared over her cast. “As soon as you’re stable, we’ll be shipped back to the States.”
She studied his face with heavy-lidded eyes before she smiled. “You don’t have to stay with me. Go home.”
How could he leave her after everything they’d been through? Jonathon squeezed her fingers. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
He reached out and stroked her hair back from her forehead. She closed her eyes, let out a soft sigh…and fell fast asleep. He pulled his chair close to the bed, keeping hold of her hand. Wanting to keep this connection with her. On the nightstand sat the photo of her daughter. The little girl with the uncanny resemblance to his sister. And to him. He chewed on his bottom lip. Twelve years ago he’d had a one-night stand, and that girl had been born to this amazing woman.
He rubbed his free hand over his hair. His eyes were gritty from poor sleep, and he had the beginnings of a serious headache. He could go home and forget this whole expedition to the island. Forget about his feelings for Phoebe, and the mystery he’d solved about her daughter. What did he know about kids? Playing the doting uncle was one thing, he loved the role. But being a dad would require a whole set of skills he certainly didn’t possess.
His gaze moved back to Sarah’s picture. Maggie had been such a precocious child, always finding some adventure to get the two of them in trouble with. Did Sarah share some of these traits? Or was she more introverted like her beautiful mother?
He forced his gaze away from the frame and stared at Phoebe’s legs, buried beneath the sheets and thin blanket. The room was a bit hot, but she needed the extra warmth. The doctors feared pneumonia, and even Jonathon had developed a hacking cough.
* * * *
The ride wasn’t an unpleasant one as he kicked back, listening to the hum of the plane engines. His father had hired a private jet to bring both him and Phoebe home to Texas. She would stay at a hospital in Austin another week until she was strong enough to make the trip back to California. Jonathon stretched out on the sofa, relaxing for the first time since before Phoebe’s accident. He’d had a decent meal on the plane, and Phoebe slept in a hospital bed nearby.
He thought of his wild life of parties, women, and more parties with women. What kind of role model would he be for an eleven-year-old girl? For Uncle Jon it was fine, but for Daddy Jon? He rubbed his freshly shaven face then sipped a cold bottle of water.
And who knew, perhaps she already had a father figure in her life. If so, he certainly wouldn’t want to upend this girl’s life so he could play the half-assed Dad role. They’d live across the country from one another for God’s sake. If he had a kid, he’d want to be a bigger part of their life than emails, online chats, and a few yearly visits. Not to mention, what if Phoebe wasn’t open to the idea of letting him waltz into Sarah’s life? After all, he himself had doubts about his parenting ability.
He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned before standing up and heading to the bar. He poured himself a shot of whisky, gulped it down, and poured another and made short work of it as well. His third glass, he took back to the sofa. He turned on the TV, letting a movie play in the background, though he left the sound off so it wouldn’t disturb Phoebe.
Her color had returned, and she no longer held an aura of death. A woman with so many secrets—secrets that had changed his life forever.
Chapter 18
It seemed she’d slept for a year when Phoebe finally forced her puffy eyelids open. The glare of light made her eyes tear up and she blinked, focusing on the stark white walls of the hospital room. She’d resisted any more of the heavy pain killers that’d left her drugged up, but they’d kept an IV in her arm available, leaving it up to her to hit the button to dose herself. The pain crashed into her moments after she woke up, and her thumb wavered over the button. I gave birth to a nine-pound baby without an epidural, so I can do this.
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She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, trying the Lamaze technique that had done little to help her during labor. It did little to dull her pain now, and she silently cursed her old Lamaze coach. Cold sweat broke out on her brow, and she grew sick to her stomach.
“Oh, thank God you’re okay, baby.”
Phoebe opened her eyes to find a hazel gaze framed by pale blonde hair hovering over her. The pain waned a bit with the happiness she felt seeing those familiar eyes with too much eyeliner. “Mom.”
Cybil stroked her hair. “Yes, I canceled the rest of my tour as soon as I heard.” She leaned down and kissed Phoebe’s forehead. The sweet aroma of her pricey perfume overwhelmed Phoebe’s nose. She barely suppressed a gag.
“You’ve traded up again,” Phoebe said with a smile. Cybil’s huge boobs were barely contained by her wrap top. Every few years she got new ones, and it’d become a running joke between them.
Cybil giggled like Sarah. “Yeah, they distract from my crow’s feet.”
Like her mother would allow even one line to mar the creamy complexion she’d paid so much money for.
Several nurses milled outside the door, talking in hushed voices, eyeing Cybil. “I think you have some fans,” Phoebe said.
Cybil looked over her shoulder.
“Go on, Mom, your public awaits.” Her perfume was becoming more than she could handle.
“I’ll be back soon.” Cybil patted her cheek then disappeared into the growing group outside the door.
Phoebe noticed a big bouquet of flowers had been left in her room alongside a giant teddy bear. They were new. Since arriving at the hospital, she’d spent days in and out of consciousness. The whole time she’d thought Jonathon had been with her, but since refusing the painkillers, he’d disappeared. He’d only been a dream.
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