by Traci Hall
Ronan glared at his brother. “This is your pep talk?”
Jaime spun the ball and started dribbling once they hit the uneven sidewalk outside the building. He passed the ball to Ronan. “Yeah. Is it working?”
“Asshole.” Ronan caught the ball, walking across the street to the family bar. Grandpa O’Neill had put up a basketball hoop and half court forty years ago off to the left of the parking lot. You had a bunch of kids, he said, you had to give ‘em something to do.
Hedges of sea grape separated the concrete from the sand, which led down to the beach. He and Jaime took their positions. The best part about playing ball against Jaime was that he couldn’t think. Jaime’s aggressive moves meant Ronan had to pay attention, or get an elbow in the nose.
An hour or so passed, and Graham joined them. Matthew, too. Nobody talked about Lucia, or the thwarted proposal. His brothers and his cousin worked his ass into a sweating puddle of sore muscles and spent adrenalin.
Next time he looked up, he saw that his mom, dad and sisters had set up a buffet on a picnic table. Some of the cousin’s kids ran around with his nephews, blowing bubbles. Shannon walked over and handed him an icy bottle of water.
“You look like shit,” she said. “Come sit down before you pass out.”
Ronan eyed his youngest sister, who had red hair like his dad and Jaime, but blue eyes like their mom. Shannon didn’t take any crap from anybody, and told it as she saw it. “Thanks.”
“Mom cut up some fruit.” She snuck a glance at him. “And the cake.”
Ronan finished the water, his mind digesting the day. “Better to eat it than toss it?”
“She saved a good portion for you to take over to Lucia later, if you wanted.” His sister arched a red brow. “Or you could rub her nose in it.”
“Shannon.”
“What?” She shrugged in defiance. “Lucia should have said yes, and told you no in private, later. She didn’t have to do that in front of us all.”
Ronan exhaled and sank onto the bench. “She told me she never wanted to get married. I didn’t listen.”
Shannon’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh.”
“I didn’t think she was serious.” Ronan grabbed a paper towel and wiped his sweaty face. “I figured she was like most women, and wanted what I wanted. A family.”
“She doesn’t want kids?”
Ronan didn’t blame his sister for sounding shocked. They’d been raised that family was everything. His older sister had a brood of four.
“I don’t think so. Her mom wasn’t like ours.”
“She never talks about her mom, but I asked her once. Lucia said she died a long time ago?”
Recalling Lucia’s painful story about how her mother had died caught Ronan in the gut and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Yeah.” In all his imagining of his adult life, Ronan saw a bunch of children, a laughing wife, and maybe one of those old houses on Ocean Street. Sunday dinners, church with family.
What was he without those things?
He tried envisioning his life without Lucia, but couldn’t. He’d been partial to blondes before meeting her–she’d changed his mind about that, with her dark curls and coffee brown eyes. She was lush curves and red lipstick, where before he’d dated thin, athletic women that now seemed like pale shadows of femininity.
Her husky laugh, slow to come but once it did, changed his world. She’d fit in, during the family get-togethers. Making a pie from scratch, buying a gift for his nephew. Sure, she’d been quiet at first but his family didn’t judge, and they knew how to love a person.
They’d loved her at first because he did, but then for her own sake. It was just last week that he’d overheard his mom asking about each of Lucia’s tattoos. And when Lucia offered to design one for his mother, instead of saying no, his mom said she’d think about it.
This from the woman who did not approve of permanent ink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at the cement crusted with broken seashells.
“Ronan. You’ve got a way with words. What are you going to do?” Shannon pushed him to the side of the bench so she could sit too.
“I don’t know.” He took a deep breath, his mind changing scenarios like Lucia changed shoes. “We are a family. She’s never had one.”
Shannon sighed, really looking at him, then she gave a firm nod. “Lucia needs us. You better go get her before she decides to leave town. She didn’t talk much, but each story she told took place in a different city.”
Ronan stood, clenching his fists. “She does that.” If she left, he’d be alone. She was his heart. “I have to go.”
Before he realized it, his family had surrounded him. His dad offered him a cold beer, which Ronan accepted, along with a ham and cheese sandwich from his mother.
“Eat,” Patricia said with a firm nod. “Drink.”
“I don’t-”
“And then go get your girl.” Liam O’Neill tossed a clean shirt at Ronan. “We’re lucky in love, son. I should have stressed that part, instead of the worry.”
“I might be moving,” he said, allowing the possibilities of life with Lucia to expand. If she couldn’t fit into his world, he’d make a place for himself in hers. Write, maybe.
“Travel. See the world.” Liam pointed to the bar behind them. “You don’t want any regrets, Ronan. At the end of the day, you know where your home is.”
Could he really leave Florida?
“It won’t kill you,” his mother said with a laugh, as if pulling the fear from his mind. “It might be good for you, for your poetry, to see a little bit more of what the world has to offer.”
“Our beach is the most beautiful place,” Jaime said, his eyes sad. “But it is just a place. It’s empty without the one you love by your side.”
Shannon slipped her hand into his. “You have to be happy. Just don’t forget about us, okay?”
Ronan shook his head. “Impossible.” He blinked to keep his family clear in his sight. “I might be right back. I might not.” He took stock of his feelings, of his great love for Lucia. “I have to convince her that I’m not a threat.”
Chapter Four
Lucia packed her final suitcase, and stared at the progress she’d made in the last three hours. Kitchen–done. Bathroom? She had a spare toothbrush and the rest didn’t matter. She was used to living on the edge. Who knew when you might need to run?
As she looked at her paltry belongings, Lucia winced. What would it be like to have something tangible to care about? It smacked of permanence, which wasn’t her style. It hadn’t been, anyway.
Her in-depth self-analysis had brought peace and acceptance surrounding her childhood, and her mother’s death. But all the understanding in the world didn’t bring experience. She had no idea how to live a life without moving. If something upset you, how did you handle the incident?
Logical argument, reason, debate. No fists, no binge drinking/drugging, no running away. Lucia found herself needing to learn how to argue, or defend her position, without running scared or becoming a doormat.
Truth was, she loved Ronan. Enough to stay, and take a chance?
What, exactly, did she have to lose?
Lucia sat on the window seat, her eyes on a pelican sunning on a dock piling. “A lot. I’ve built a name for myself here by the beach. The weather suits me, the people fit. Mostly, I love Ronan.”
Henry would tell her to pack up before dawn, and see what Georgia had in store. The advice suited her fine, but eventually, Lucia would run out of places to go. She didn’t have a passport [or a birth certificate, or a driver’s license] so she couldn’t, legally, leave the country.
A moot point.
She wanted Ronan. Damn it, she loved him and knew she was loved. His heart was a safe place for her to rest.
How had this happened?
Lucia was splayed open, vulnerable, and Ronan had no clue how she felt—she’d chased him away.
Courage. He’d called her strong.
/> She couldn’t just, well, never see him again. “Hmm,” Lucia said, sliding her feet into her heels. “I should say good-bye, at least.” It would be the right thing to do.
She slipped her small leather pouch, big enough for the apartment key and some cash, around her shoulder and headed for the door. Getting outside, she noticed the dusky shadows darkening the palm fronds as the sun lowered. Where she should go—his apartment? No, he’d need the beach.
“Ronan,” she whispered, heading for the bar. She could call, or text, but she felt this had to be done in person. Face to face.
If she was going to leave forever, she had to let him know the truth. She loved him, and the idea of leaving on bad terms didn’t sit well. Going on intuition, she went toward O’Neill’s. With each step she took on the crooked sidewalk, she pictured Ronan. His eyes, his smile, the way he held her as if she were the most precious gift.
“Am I a coward?” she muttered beneath her breath. “It’s for his own good, that I leave now, before I hurt him worse. Because I will.”
Why?
She slowed her pace, uncertain. I should go back to the apartment.
“That would be chicken-shit,” she told herself. “You have more guts than that.”
The memory of her mother, brought to the forefront of her mind because she’d shared her past with Ronan, became the belittling voice in her head.
“Stop sniveling,” her mom said, her mouth screwed in a purple pout. Cigarette smoke furled like dragon’s breath from her nostrils. “You ruin everything.”
I don’t want to ruin anything, Lucia thought back. What she’d shared with Ronan was the best she’d felt, ever. He’d trusted her, and how had she repaid him? She’d never forget the wounded expression on his face if she lived to be a hundred.
She turned back toward her place, scared.
Stopped.
Forced herself to walk a few more steps toward Ronan instead of away from the love he’d given her.
She deserved to be happy.
“Ain’t nobody happy,” her mother said, her eyes glassy and hard.
“I am happy!” Lucia said aloud.
“Lucia?” a man’s voice called from her right.
Lucia, drawing on experience, tucked her small bag beneath her arm–out of the way of a pickpocket. “Hey,” she said, relaxing as she took in Ronan’s broad shoulders in the dark blue tee, his basketball shorts and sneakers. Curls resting on his tanned forehead.
“What are you happy about?” he asked, joining her on the sidewalk.
She felt foolish. Excited at just being near him. Hopeful, yet sad. “I’m arguing with my mother.”
He nodded, then winked. “You realize that you will always win, don’t you?”
“She likes the last word,” she said. She loved Ronan’s sense of humor, his caring.
Ronan grinned. “Our moms have something in common.”
Her pulse leapt in denial at the comparison. Patricia O’Neill was the perfect mother. “My mom was a drunk. An addict.”
“Your mother had you, which I am grateful for,” he said, his voice lowering. “I’m sorry she hurt you.” He paused, standing close to her without touching her. His steady gaze held her in place. “I can’t change the past, and neither can you. Lucia Constantine, brilliant artist, extraordinary woman, compassionate lover, best friend–I am blessed to have you in my life. I don’t care if you were raised in an alley–what matters to me is your heart, which is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”
Lucia sniffed, the tears hot as they coursed down her cheeks. “Damn you. I was coming to say good-bye.”
“I don’t accept good-bye. How do you feel about an RV?”
She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “Huh?” A sea breeze gusted across the sea grass between the condos on the beach.
“You want to travel.” He stood so close their arms brushed. “I can write. I buy the wheels, you support us with your tattooing. Or I can find work as a barkeep anywhere we go.”
Unable to think clearly, Lucia stared at Ronan. “Writing?”
“Why not? I could be the next great American poet. But I should probably see something besides Florida. Maybe the mountains will be cool.”
“Your family-”
“I told them I might be leaving for a while.”
“You’re insane.” She really couldn’t think, couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“Unless we wait until after Christmas–the holidays here are awesome. Oh!” Ronan reached into the canvas shopping bag over his shoulder. “Mom packed us cake and Perrier.”
“They must hate me.” Her nerves tightened with apprehension.
“Nope.”
“But I,”
“You are someone they’ve grown to love.”
Impossible, to be accepted into their circle. “I hurt you. I don’t want the same things they want.”
“You don’t have to be a clone,” Ronan laughed. “It’s nice to be unique.”
“Ronan.” Was she dreaming?
“What?”
She was at a loss for words. The two of them stared at one another, caught in time as they stood on the sidewalk, face to face, the dusky sky turning to purple-blue.
“I love you, Lucia. Nothing has happened to change that. My expectations were just that–mine,” he said in tones that made her shiver. “I should have listened to you.”
Nobody had ever talked to her like this before, or respected her so deeply. “I love you too.” She swallowed, holding her hand out for the bottled water, something to soothe her dry throat.
“I know. It’s why I’m willing to risk everything.”
“I don’t want you to do that! I could hurt you.”
“And I could hurt you, too.”
He stared at her, gently binding her with the love in his eyes.
“I suppose I could stay until the first of the year,” she said, her body humming with nerves.
Ronan shrugged. “Whatever you want. Just know that I am going with you. You might not want a ring, but we’ve already exchanged hearts. The rest is a piece of paper–and if that paper freaks you out, we don’t need it. If staying in one place too long upsets you, let’s get our boogie shoes on and hit the road.”
Lucia’s heart pounded so hard it hurt her chest. She patted it, soothing her anxiety by taking in grounding breaths. She recalled something a therapist had told her once. “I am a tree,” she whispered. “I am a tree.”
“What?” Ronan uncapped the water and handed her the bottle.
“Thank you. Never mind.” Trees had roots, they swayed in a storm, but remained strong–bending without breaking. She drank.
“The beach is home, so I would like to come back and visit–maybe for long periods, if we can work up to it.”
“I, er,” she mumbled.
“Overcome with the brilliance of my plan?” He shrugged. “Sometimes I get these really great ideas. Proposing was one of them.”
“It ruined things!”
“No, it changed things.”
“Change.” She was good at change, was usually a damned chameleon, so why was she so reluctant to embrace Ronan’s new outlook on life? “You have a job here. Your friends. Family. You can’t just up and move.”
“Why not?” He guided her across the street to a bench in a park shaded by palm trees that overlooked the turquoise and tranquil ocean. “You make it sound fun, seeing new places.”
“It can be fun.” She took a deep breath and chewed her lower lip. “It can also be frightening, and lonely.”
“You and I have each other. No more being lonely.” He leaned across the bench and kissed her. “I would do anything for you. I should have told you that, instead of expecting you to want what I wanted–what I thought I wanted. When I imagined one of those old houses overlooking the water? You were there. The house meant nothing, without you sitting on a rocker on the porch, next to me.”
Lucia closed her eyes, her throat thick with
emotion. She whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”
“Lucia, love isn’t about deserving. Withdrawing love is cruel, it isn’t supposed to be a punishment.”
“I know. You keep telling me it’s a gift.” Her insides felt as warm and fuzzy as the best present ever. She took another drink of water and laughed, feeling hope in the fizzy bubbles of the water. Did she dare?
He smiled, and brushed her hair back from her cheek.
“If we–I mean, if we stay together for a while…”
“Forever.” He brought her fingers to his lips.
“A long while...” she squirmed, the warmth of his mouth shooting delicious feelings throughout her body. “You might want kids.”
He nodded, taking a nibble of the sensitive pad of her thumb.
“I might not.” Lucia feared repeating her mother’s mistakes. “Probably won’t.”
“We can start with a goldfish. See how you do.”
“I’m serious!” She pulled her hand away from his mouth.
“Me too. We won’t even talk kids until you keep one goldfish alive for six months. They aren’t supposed to live longer than that.”
She giggled. “Really?” Six months wasn’t that long. She’d been with Ronan for that same length of time, and it had whizzed by.
“Easy as pie. Then we can get a puppy.”
A puppy? Good heavens. “A rescue dog?”
“You have a heart of gold. I like the way you think.” He sat back, and stretched his legs out. “Maybe a bird?”
She shook her head. “A dog and a fish in a camper sound pretty tight. No bird.”
He turned serious. “So long as I’m with you, Lucia, we can work the details out. It’s you and me that matters. Not a ceremony. Not a ring.”
A huge wave of relief rained down on Lucia, and she lifted her face to the dusky sky. She loved this time of pre-night, when things seemed magical. Closing her eyes, she said a prayer to whoever might be listening, but mostly to Henry.
I want to be happy, Henry. I’m gonna take a chance.
She felt his blessing as surely as she felt Ronan slip his arm around her shoulders.
“You and me, Ronan.”
He pointed toward the ocean. “Look—a dolphin! Did you see that?”
