Missed: Rafael and Lisa (Cliffside Bay Book 6)

by Tess Thompson

  Pepper stepped closer and looked into her eyes. “But it’s so fast. Are you sure?”

  “You’re the one who’s always jumped into everything with both feet,” Lisa said. “Now it’s my turn.”

  “You’re not misreading the signals?”

  “He loves me,” Lisa said. “Just as I am.”

  “He obviously has good taste.” Pepper smiled as she splayed both hands over Lisa’s shoulders. “If he hurts you, I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”

  “I’m not going to hurt her.” They both jumped at the sound of Rafael’s voice.

  Pepper flushed. “Hi, Rafael. I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “He’s like that.” Lisa smiled up at him. “All of a sudden he’s just there. Before you know it, he comes before all else.”

  Pepper peered at Lisa. “He’s the one, then?”

  “He is,” Lisa said.

  Pepper turned to Rafael. “She’s been looking for you.”

  “She found me.” Rafael wrapped his arm around Lisa’s shoulders and held her close. “I understand it seems fast to you, but I can assure you I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life making sure she has everything she needs.”

  “She’s not like other people, you know,” Pepper said. “Lisa’s special.”

  “I’m quite aware of that,” Rafael said. “You should’ve seen her shine the last few weeks.”

  “And you’re not going to be a baby that she makes more money than you?” Pepper asked.

  “No ma’am.”

  “You won’t get jealous when the whole world’s fawning over her?” Pepper asked.

  “No, because I’ll know that at the end of the day, she always comes home to me,” Rafael said.

  “And this nonsense about eloping? You’ll be putting a stop to that?” Pepper’s eyes glittered in the last moments of sun.

  “You’ll have to take that up with her,” Rafael said. “She’s a strong woman who makes up her own mind about things.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” Pepper said. “And you’ve met her mother? You know what you’re getting yourself into there?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Rafael let out a long sigh. “I’ll do my best not to lose my temper when she does her passive-aggressive crap, but no promises.”

  Pepper laughed. “I’ve been doing the same for the last thirteen years.” She narrowed her eyes into slits. “You understand she wants fat babies.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “And you’re prepared to provide them?”

  “I cannot wait,” Rafael said.

  “One last thing. You’re all right with the fact she won’t eat in front of you?” Pepper asked.

  “She does eat in front of me,” he said. “All the time.”

  Pepper jerked her head toward Lisa. “Did I hear him correctly?”

  Lisa grinned at her friend. “I’m not sure it’s a thing any longer. My mom, you know, is the one who made me paranoid about it and I’m over it. Over her.”

  “Well, holy crap and halleluiah.” Pepper held her hand out to Rafael. “I guess I love you, too. Welcome to the family.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled as he shook her friend’s hand.

  “Let’s celebrate,” Pepper said.

  “Your wish is my command.” Rafael let Lisa go to pick up both suitcases. The ladies walked arm in arm around the corner of the building and up the stairs to the porch.

  Pepper said hello to Lavonne, who was too shy to meet her eyes. “Hi, Pepper,” Lavonne said. His narrow torso slouched as he bobbed his head in greeting.

  Trey stood and held out his hand. “Welcome back to town, neighbor.”

  Pepper shook his hand. “Don’t expect to borrow any eggs or sugar. I don’t cook.”

  “We’ve got Lisa for that,” Trey said.

  Nico came forward to introduce himself.

  “The grower of all things beautiful,” Pepper said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Nico said.

  Lisa looked for signs of attraction between them. All they needed in the building was a love triangle. But they simply exchanged friendly smiles.

  “And this is Mama Soto and Ria,” Lisa said.

  Mama, then Ria, hugged Pepper. “Lisa told us all about you this afternoon,” Mama said. “You’re just as pretty as she described.”

  “Did you really get arrested for hitting a man over the head with a candlestick?” Ria asked.

  Pepper laughed. “I did. But he deserved it.”

  “I bet he doesn’t lie to a woman again,” Mama said.

  “He’s not a good boy like Rafael,” Ria said.

  “We need a good boy for Pepper,” Mama said.

  Stone came out of the front doors carrying bottles of steak sauce and ketchup. He stopped abruptly at the sight of Pepper.

  “Hey, Pepper. Welcome home,” Stone said.

  “Hello, Stone.” Pepper lifted her chin and tossed him a haughty glare.

  Stone grinned down at her, looking larger than usual next to tiny Pepper. “It’s been dull without a little spice to heat things up around here.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.” Pepper did her trademark sassy toss of her black curls.

  “Only the ones named Pepper,” Stone said.

  At midnight, Lisa nestled in the crook of Rafael’s arm. Satiated for the moment, she rested her hand on his taut stomach. Through an open window, the scent of the sea drifted in with the breeze. A cricket chirped in the quiet of the night.

  “Rafael?”

  “Yeah?” he asked, sounding sleepy.

  “Did you ever think your life could be as good as it is right now?”

  “No, Stardust. I didn’t.” He played with her hair. “But my life isn’t good. It’s great. Every moment with you is the best one of my life.”

  She snuggled closer. “Every day I think I couldn’t love you more than the one before, but I do.”

  He shifted and moved her to her side. “I was going to do this the old-fashioned way, but now seems as good a time as any.” Rafael turned on the bedside lamp. She blinked as he sat up and opened the drawer of the bedside table.

  She straightened and clutched a stray pillow to her chest.

  He held a small box in his hand. “Ria took me aside tonight and gave me this.” He opened the lid. A ring with a small diamond sparkled up at her. “This was her mother’s engagement ring. She’d saved it for Paulo and wanted me to have it—to give to you.”

  She inhaled a sharp breath as she dropped the pillow onto her lap. “Oh, Rafael.”

  “It’s a starter ring,” he said. “Until I can afford to get you something better.”

  “I don’t care about the ring. I just want to be your wife.”

  His dark eyes were glassy in the dim light. “There was a time not long ago that I wouldn’t have thought that possible. Until I met you and realized that angels don’t care about something as mundane as a ring. Angels have more important work to do, like saving mortals from themselves.”

  “I’m not an angel. You know that, right?”

  “I don’t know that. I’m certain you were sent to save me.”

  “Isn’t it the other way around?” she asked.

  He smiled and lifted her hand. “If you’re going to be stubborn about it, we can agree that we saved each other, how’s that?”

  “That works.”

  “Lisa Perry, will you be my wife? Will you allow me the privilege of being Mr. Perry for the rest of my life?”

  “Yes, I will.” She met his eyes with her own. “Will you allow me to be Mrs. Soto for the rest of mine?”

  “Yes.” He slid the ring on her finger.

  “It fits perfectly. How is that possible?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Like I belong with you, the ring belongs to your hand. I’ll be grateful for the rest of eternity that God sent you to me. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. All I could ever hope for.”

  She placed her left hand on the side of his f
ace. His skin was dry and warm with a hint of roughness from his evening stubble. “I’d given up on finding you—stopped believing that love would ever come. Happiness with a man was for the lucky, not me. All this time, I believed the story my mother told me about myself. I was too damaged for anyone to love. When things with various men didn’t work out, I figured she was right. But then, there you were. You saw what no one else ever had.”

  “The story your mother told you was wrong. You’re not damaged. You’re the least unstable person I’ve ever met.”

  “Being with you makes me strong.”

  “No, you were strong all along. You just needed to get your mother’s voice out of your head.”

  “And let your voice in,” she whispered.

  “Can you hear how much I love you?”

  “Yes. Your voice echoes through every part of me.”

  They kissed. The cricket quieted. Even the breeze stilled. The only sound was the distant crash of waves as they hit the shore.

  For a few glorious seconds, the world ceased. There was no pain, no suffering, no recollections of the horrors or the hurts of the past. In the tranquil night, it was only the two of them and their swollen hearts that beat to the timeless, mighty rhythm of the sea.

  The end.

  21

  RIVERSNOW

  Prologue

  1996

  The hallway of Saint Ann Catholic School smelled of floor polish and hair spray. Clusters of girls in white shirts and plaid skirts huddled together near lockers, their chatter a collective rumble marked with an occasional high-pitched shriek. Outside the windows, the first snowfall of the year shed fat flakes. Genevieve Banks checked her appearance in her compact mirror. Big eyes, the color of dark tea and fringed with dark lashes, stared back at her. Her mother didn’t allow her to wear makeup, other than a little mascara and lip gloss. Her small bust seemed completely disinclined to grow. Her unfortunate figure, described by tactless adults as a string bean, made her look like a little girl, whereas some of her schoolmates looked like young women. Apparently, prayers about waking to a bigger chest weren’t heeded by God.

  The bell for sixth period buzzed. She hated to be late to anything, especially Sister Maria’s class. The tiny nun scared her. Gennie grabbed her books and zigzagged through girls on her way to Sister Maria’s class. She slid into her usual seat in the front row, gaze directed at the door. Where is Margaret? If she didn’t show soon, she’d be late, and Sister Maria would send her to the office after school for punishment, which, if the rumors were true, involved a ruler and the palm of one’s hand. Gennie wouldn’t know. She’d never gotten into trouble. The girls who had didn’t speak of it.

  Around her, girls opened books and settled into creaking chairs, the scent of their hairspray mingling with the particles of chalk floating from Sister Maria’s furious writing on the board. As the final bell rang, a breathless Margaret slid into the seat next to her, crossed her feet at the ankles, and grinned at Gennie. Margaret had a secret. A boy. After school for the past week, she’d kissed him behind the statue of Colonel Murphy in the park. Yesterday she’d let him feel under her bra.

  Gennie had shivered when Margaret had told her. They were only fifteen. Kissing a smelly boy was the last thing Gennie wanted. Margaret, though? She ran wild. This Catholic stuff’s for idiots, she’d said.

  “Good afternoon, girls,” Sister Maria said.

  “Good afternoon, Sister Maria,” chimed the girls in unison.

  Gennie tugged on her long socks to cover a patch of dry skin just under her knee. They all hated the scratchy wool socks that made their feet perspire inside their black loafers.

  “First, some announcements.” Sister Maria stood behind her desk, hands folded in front of her round middle, plump cheeks blazing pink. “Congratulations to Gennie Banks for winning the Wisconsin state essay contest.”

  What did she say? I won? She’d known the odds were against her going into the contest, but she’d decided to write what she knew and felt strongly about—her mother.

  The assignment had been to write about leadership. What qualities make a leader? What person in your life has demonstrated admirable leadership?

  She’d gone against the advice of Sister Maria to profile Sister Isabel, the school’s principal, and had written about her mother instead. Widowed when Gennie was ten, her mother had the responsibilities of single parenthood and a full-time managerial position at their local bank. Having sat under her mother’s desk while she worked, Gennie had observed how fair she was to her team, treating all as if they had a worthy contribution, no matter their position, from the janitors to the tellers to the loan officers.

  “Yes, Gennie, I just got the news. Isn’t that something, girls?”

  “Yes, Sister Maria,” they chimed in unison.

  “The prize is spending an afternoon with Senator Rick Murphy.” Sister Maria smiled, deep dimples appearing on both sides of her mouth, which made her seem less like a nun and more like a peer. When she’d arrived last year to teach English and history, the rumor had gone around that she’d been married before becoming a nun. “We’ll expect an article about him for the school paper, Gennie.”

  “Sure. I’d love to,” Gennie said.

  Margaret rolled her eyes and pretended to shudder. She hated writing.

  “Did you have something to share with the class, Margaret?” Sister Maria asked.

  “No, Sister,” Margaret said.

  “Now, open your books, so we can discuss your reading assignment from last night,” Sister Maria said.

  Gennie opened her English book to the Hemingway story Hills Like White Elephants. She’d read it last night but hadn’t understood how the precise sentences unfolded into a plot of any kind. There was no story. Two people waited for a train. They drank beer. They disagreed about a decision, but for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom what.

  “Who knows the origin of the expression ‘elephant in the room?’” Sister Maria asked.

  Gennie had no idea. She should have looked it up last night. Why didn’t I think of that? Sister Maria always asked questions that Gennie was incapable of discerning before class.

  “Yes, Rosemary?” Sister Maria asked.

  “Elephant in the room: that which is there, but not acknowledged,” Rosemary said.

  “Correct,” Sister Maria said.

  “And white elephant means something no one wants,” Rosemary said.

  Rosemary. She always knows the answers to everything. Rosemary the know-it-all. She probably knows what this silly story was about too.

  Sister Maria crossed the room, her heels clicking on the wood floor, and closed the door. The room fell quieter as if the girls were all holding their breaths. She perched on the edge of the desk, smoothing her skirt. The Sisters wore regular clothes at St. Ann. No habits or robes like in the movies. Sister Maria wore long skirts and turtleneck sweaters. “I’m going to tell you something that cannot go out of this room.”

  The girls leaned forward in their seats. All but Margaret. She pretended not to care, doodling in her notebook.

  “I’m not supposed to teach this story,” Sister Maria said.

  In her peripheral vision, Gennie saw Margaret’s head jerk up. The clandestine had interested Margaret since her father had left her mother for a local barmaid. Since then, she’d been suspicious of everyone. Everyone has a secret, Gennie.

  “Why?” Margaret asked. “Because it’s about abortion?”

  Several of the girls gasped. All thoughts of the contest evaporated from Gennie’s mind. Abortion? That’s what the story is about? Her heart beat fast in her chest, and her hands went numb as she waited for Sister Maria to continue.

  “That’s correct, Margaret. I take it you actually read this story?”

  “It was short.” Margaret shrugged. “Plus, the dude uses the shortest sentences ever. What’s up with that?”

  In a voice just above a whisper, Sister Maria said, “Girls, I struggle with certain sins. M
y love of Hemingway is one of them. God gave him a great gift.”

  “Not really,” Margaret said under her breath.

  If she’d heard, Sister Maria ignored Margaret. “His writing is from God, but not of God.” Gennie smiled behind her hand, amused. This was surely a subtle difference. It was as if Hemingway were a forbidden fruit Sister Maria could not resist, even though she believed it would poison her. “I admire him. He created art, but we mustn’t forget his ways—the drinking and suicide, the disregard for tradition.” Sister Maria’s eyes shone brightly in the dim room. “All that said, even though it’s forbidden to teach this story, I’m compelled to do so.”

  “Why?” Margaret asked without raising her hand.

  “It’s a conversation we must have, and this story is a way for me to have it with you. The woman in the story does not want to do it. Do you all agree with that statement?”

  No one, not even Rosemary, answered. Gennie had no idea, still reeling from the knowledge the story was about an abortion.

  “It’s a sin to kill a human life, no matter how small. This, girls, you must remember. Outside of these walls, you will hear differing opinions, but I want you to think about your own life. What if someone had decided to dispose of you? Think of it. No you in this world.”

  Gennie glanced over at Margaret. She stared down at the desk, a lone teardrop rolling down her cheek. What is wrong?

  “That’s all I’m going to say about this subject, but I hope in the years to come you will all remember this lesson. Do not put yourself in a position where you ever have to make a choice like this one. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sister Maria.”

  “Excellent. Then we will talk no more of this distasteful subject.”

  **

  Later, Gennie walked home from school with her backpack slung over her shoulders, warm in her long, down jacket, thick gloves, and snow boots. She never walked to and from home in her loafers this time of year; they were left behind in lockers, their duty done for the day. A white powdering covered the sidewalks, but the snow had stopped, leaving a dense cloud layer swollen with unshed flakes. Margaret sidled up beside her.