“Uncle R—”
“Stop, Gentry.” Cameron put a hand to her arm. “Let him have his say.”
Hard breaths hammered Rob’s chest. “Her life wasn’t yours to risk.”
Cameron nodded. “You’re right.”
“It was my decision.” Gentry’s voice pleaded, but there was an edge to it, an edge he knew too well. Her decision to stretch for that pinnacle, to leap that crevice, scale that face. It was in her to do what she’d done, but he’d waited helplessly while she did it.
For the first time he hadn’t been there at the other end of the rope. It wasn’t his encouragement making her strong. She was drawing from her own depths. And God’s.
“I’m sorry I frightened you, Uncle Rob, but I could not let someone else be hurt because of me.” Guilt spoke, but only faintly. When Gentry mapped her course, she held it. She had risked herself in place of a woman she hardly knew, but that was the spirit that would carry her forward while he fell farther and farther behind. That, not anger, was breaking his heart, and he wondered what—if anything—could ever make it whole again.
Allegra shook with disgust. Flimsy, narrow walls closed her in, the filthy curtain over the small aluminum window admitting a dingy moonlight. Packed into the tiny space, the smell of her brothers’ and sisters’ sweaty bodies filled the discarded air she breathed. Not enough to go around. Never enough.
Squalid. She’d learned that word and applied it.
Ignorant. That applied to the rest of them. Not her. No matter how many times they told her she was stupid. She knew things they couldn’t begin to grasp. Daddy said she was trash and she’d always be trash, but she knew better. She was different. She dared to dream.
Allegra shuddered into wakefulness out of the illusions of Allison Carter, with her cracker accent, her filth and rags. With everything she’d learned, studied, and perfected, every step she’d taken, every goal accomplished, she’d buried that girl and created Allegra Delaney.
Perfect, well-bred Allegra. But inside, she was still trash.
THIRTY-THREE
In the hall outside Rob’s hospital room, Cameron breathed in the antiseptic air and expelled his tension. He’d ridden the emotional roller coaster since waking with Gentry in his arms; Myra’s call, surfing, Bette. Then Malakua’s threats, the gut-aching fear for Nica and Gentry.
They needed normalcy, but what constituted normal for Gentry Fox? She might leave the island, but this wasn’t over. Malakua hadn’t acted on his own. He was more sure of that than ever. On the tarmac, he’d looked for signs of rage, fixation, or enmity. By all appearances, Gentry was nothing but a tool for his escape. Malakua was not the source of malice Okelani had sensed.
He took out his phone and called the chief of police. When they questioned Malakua, they needed to learn who hired him to cause the accident. Was it the same person who’d hired Bette Walden to make Gentry’s life miserable? Maybe Bette’s inability to dig up any real dirt had forced her client to more desperate measures.
Bette had said she. He didn’t think it was Troy’s mother. She’d get nothing with Gentry dead. So who stood to gain? Gentry’s friend and partner Helen Bastente? Envy could be a deadly incentive.
Gentry came out after a few minutes alone with her uncle. She looked as ragged at the edges as he felt. He took her into his arms, this woman Hollywood would make a star. But he had no expectations. Maybe years from now he’d watch her and remember when. The thought caused such an ache, he lowered his mouth to hers.
Sharp heels rapping the floor brought him up. Bette Walden stopped a few paces away. “It appears my client was mistaken about the photos. I came to tell you I’ve wiped them off my Palm Pilot and deleted the e-mail.”
Covering her backside.
Gentry drew herself up. “Do you still plan to follow me around looking for dirt?”
“There’s no reason for me to continue. I’ve confirmed Troy’s state of mind, and—whatever part your relationship played in his confusion—he’s changed his story.” She tugged her purse strap up her sloping shoulder, and added, with a hint of mockery, “It appears I was right about one thing, though.” She spun and walked away.
So he hadn’t been entirely professional. He also hadn’t been retained. Whatever work he’d done for Gentry, he’d done as a friend. He’d done it because she reached up inside and found the part of him that could still care.
Gentry released a breath. “That’s one less thing to worry about.”
“Bette might be stepping down, but not necessarily the one who hired her. And that person may also have hired Malakua.”
She closed her eyes with a sigh.
“I’m sorry. But I’m not convinced this is over.” He leaned against the wall. “Are they still transferring your uncle in the morning?”
“Yes. He needs to be fitted with a prosthesis and receive specialized therapy on the mainland. They’ll also have the appropriate psychological counseling.”
“He was understandably angry.”
“I know.” They started down the hall.
“How would you feel about flying back with Denny and me?”
She stopped walking, her expression puzzled and skeptical. “Why?”
“It might be safer for both of you. Until we know who’s out there.”
She flushed. “I could still endanger Uncle Rob?”
“Your plans are no secret.” She’d even told the press.
“I don’t believe this.” She clenched her jaw as belief sank in. “Then we have to go tonight, and we have to take Uncle Rob.”
“What?”
“If someone’s planned another accident, Uncle Rob can’t be on the plane either. No one can.”
“He’ll need a medical transport.”
She shook her head. “A medical professional.” She stopped abruptly. “Paul. He’s a nurse and therapist. He’s strong enough to lift and assist Uncle Rob. He’ll know what to bring; he’s worked with him almost exclusively.”
Cameron expelled a breath. She was indomitable—and probably right. “Okay. How do we find this nurse?”
She took out her phone, paged down, and said, “Here.”
“You have his phone number?”
“He gave it to me. In case I had questions.”
“Uh-huh.”
She called the man she seemed to think so highly of, explained the situation, and told him, “My uncle will compensate you for your time.” She laughed at whatever he said. “I’m sure we can do better than that.”
When she hung up, Cameron cocked his head and assessed her. “Better than what?”
She gave him a secret smile and slid her phone into her pocket. “Should you talk to Denny?”
He frowned. “Yeah, okay.” Then he hooked his hand behind her head and kissed her. Just so she knew.
He called Denny on the way to Nica’s, ran the request by him. “We’ll pay the charter fee.”
“Sure.” Denny said. “I’ll catch a nap and meet you at HPV at eight. Be about right for a clandestine takeoff, and an ETA after the five A.M. noise curfews.”
“Perfect.” He hung up. “We’re on.”
Nica’s spam musubi had to be one of the worst things she’d ever tasted. But looking across the table to TJ and Cameron, Gentry guessed they didn’t agree. TJ licked a smear of seaweed from his fingers and closed his eyes in blissful surfeit. “So how you going swipe da uncle from da hospital?”
Gentry smiled. “We’re not swiping him. Paul’s got the discharge papers. The transfer was already in the protocol; we’re just modifying the schedule.”
“And the transportation.” Cameron dabbed with his napkin. “Break da mout.”
TJ jutted his chin. “You grind so much you come momona.”
“Wouldn’t talk, brah.”
TJ patted his belly. “Dis pure beef.”
“I saw that pure beef lying on the pavement.”
“Watch da mout.” TJ slapped the back of Cameron’s head.
Cameron c
ame up laughing. “Like some da kine hot dog roast, the three of you—”
TJ shoved his chair back. “Going take you apart.”
Gentry shared a glance with Nica as the other two wrestled. Too much had happened for them to need words. She would miss her so much. Okelani carried a teapot to the table and ordered the boys to stop. They let go and straightened up.
Cameron nodded at the pot. “What’s in there, Tūtū? No kava kava, I hope.”
“Liliko‘i. Passion fruit blossom for celebrate hana aloha. Da love magic.”
His gaze came across the table, and Gentry met it. Once they left this island, she wasn’t sure any hana aloha could survive. But she’d have this moment, this place in her heart.
And now it was time to go. Cameron made TJ promise to call with whatever they learned from Malakua. He hugged his sister and his adopted grandma.
Gentry hugged TJ. “Thank you for risking so much.”
“No problem.”
She hugged Okelani, who put a hand-tied lei of leaves around her neck with a kiss. “Ti, for keep da evil spirit away.”
“Mahalo. For everything.” She knew the old woman could see what was in her heart, see it all with eyes of faith and love. “Aloha, Okelani.”
Next Nica squeezed her. “Promise you’ll come back.”
“I warned the police I might.”
Nica laughed and put a lei of white orchids around her neck. She kissed her cheek. “Aloha.”
Tears sprang to Gentry’s eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Though she would think of a way.
“Come see me soon. Make Kai bring you.”
They drove to the heliport in silence, her throat too thick to risk words. But as they crossed the tarmac to the jet, she found her voice. “Denny can fly in the dark?”
Cameron squeezed her hand. “Honey, Denny can fly in his sleep.”
The last time she’d climbed the stairs, Grover Malakua had a knife at her back. This time it was Cameron’s hand guiding her. The ambulance had delivered Uncle Rob, and he was set up in one of the central, front-facing recliners. Paul’s smile encouraged her. Things were going to be fine.
Cameron stowed their luggage in the interior bins, then ushered her to the recliner next to her uncle’s. “I think I’ll start the flight in the cockpit with Denny, if that’s okay.”
She nodded. “Sure. Of course.” She turned when he was halfway to the front. “But Denny’s flying, right?”
Cameron spread his hands. “I did okay.” When she didn’t answer, he rolled his head to the side. “Denny’s flying.”
“Good. I’m exhausted.” She settled in across the aisle beside her uncle.
He was watching her with what looked like pride and amusement.
She shrugged. “I’ve had enough adventure, okay?”
THIRTY-FOUR
At 4:30 A.M. to his body, 7:30 West Coast time, Cameron dragged into his house. Gentry and Paul had disembarked in San Jose and had gone with Rob by ambulance to the medical facility. Paul would fly back on his next charter, but a day or so on the mainland had him jazzed. After landing at the San Luis County Airport, Denny had gone home to his three parrots and one blue-and-gold macaw.
Cameron rubbed his face. Gentry, Rob, and Paul had slept all the way in, but he’d stayed up with Denny even though he hadn’t napped beforehand. Now his muscles ached, his head spun. He needed sleep.
But as he went inside, Myra stood up. She wore a miniskirt and Lycra top. Her face in the morning light looked intriguing and full of attitude, none of which he was prepared to deal with.
Not asking how she’d gotten in, he raised a hand. “Whatever you have to say, keep it. I’m too tired to be nice.” She couldn’t have known he’d been up all night, but she had a knack for choosing his weakest times. He turned for the stairs.
“Where is she?”
He climbed.
“It won’t work, you know.”
He paused.
“You’ll crush the life from her, the same as you did me.”
He closed his eyes. Dead on his feet, he didn’t risk speaking. He’d spent the last four years wondering what he’d done. Now she confirmed what he knew. He loved too hard.
He climbed the last five stairs, went in and closed the door to his bedroom. The bed had been violated. The covers tousled, the pillows indented and scented with Myra’s perfume. She’d slept there. How long she’d been in his house, he didn’t know and didn’t care. He gripped the sheets and yanked them from the mattress.
After shoving the bedding into his hamper, he brought his hands to his face and smelled her. He’d been awake twenty-four hours, but he didn’t drop into the stripped bed. He went in to shower. The hot flow washed away her scent, but not her words.
He hadn’t been obsessive or jealous. What she’d disdained was his desire to be together, his wanting to be one. He knew how easily people could be lost. If that meant he’d loved her too hard, crushed the life from her, then it couldn’t be helped. He didn’t know any other way to be.
With the water beating on his back, he almost fell asleep on his feet. He needed coffee. He shut off the water, toweled dry, and pulled on a clean pair of shorts. Then he went down to face Myra.
She followed him into the kitchen. As he ground beans and French-pressed a pot of Kona special reserve, he noted several mugs with soggy tea bags and a couple used plates.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since we talked.”
Roughly as long as he’d been awake. “Why?”
“I wanted to be here when you came back.”
“In case I brought Gentry?” He filled his cup.
“I saw your interview.”
He drew the coffee into his mouth and held it there to absorb.
“You lied.”
He eyed her over the rim.
“You’re not in love with her, or you wouldn’t be letting her go.”
“What makes you think I am?”
She smiled, the knowing glint in her stormy eyes. “I know you, Cameron. You want to settle in and batten down the hatches.” She clicked her nails on the table. “You don’t want anyone to know what you’ve got, or something might take it away. Just like the storm took your parents.”
In their five years together, he hadn’t known to keep his hopes and fears to himself.
“You can’t do that with Gentry Fox. She belongs to everyone, every fan who fantasizes.”
He looked away.
Myra stood and came to him. She covered his hands on the mug. “You know all this.” She slid the mug from his hands and set it on the counter. “You just don’t like to give up.”
Taking his hand, she walked him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He stood stupidly, while she took fresh sheets from the linen closet and made the bed. Two years older, she had on rare occasions mothered him. If his brain wasn’t mush, he’d order her out, but the things she’d said were wounding something inside, something he might have called hope.
She folded the navy blue coverlet back. “There. Climb in. Your eyes look like Frankenstein.”
No doubt. He got into the bed, prepared to roll out if she tried to join him.
She knew better. “Get some rest. I’ll be downstairs.”
Ordinarily that would have killed any chance of sleep. This time it didn’t.
Having settled Uncle Rob into the health facility where he’d rehabilitate over the next weeks, Gentry prepared to go home. Denny had offered to fly her to the San Luis County Regional airport, where he housed his jet and where Cameron would deplane. But she had needed to see her uncle settled.
Now she waited at the San Jose airport for a flight into LAX. On the flight from Kauai, she’d slept like a baby in the recliner next to Uncle Rob, but it would feel good to get home. She kept her head down as she waited, reading the novel she’d bought from the rack and hoping no one would gasp out her name and alert the crowd.
Unlike the locals on Kauai, Californians knew their celebr
ities. No place in the nation packed people into the theaters like the West Coast. Gentry understood her obligation to them, but still she hoped her overnight flight and surreptitious arrival had thrown off the press. She hadn’t intended to lie, but Cameron’s fears had altered her announced plans. They couldn’t hold that against her.
“Excuse me.”
With a sigh, she looked up to the woman standing over her.
“Is that your little girl?”
Gentry followed her finger to a crying toddler a few feet away and said, “No.” But then she worried until a young, harried woman rushed back and swiped up the child. Their eyes met and the woman stopped short.
“Oh. You’re—”
“Please. Don’t say it.”
The girl shoved the toddler to her hip and dug through the diaper bag. “Can you sign something?”
Now the other woman had sharpened her gaze. “Oh. Gentry—”
Gentry shot her a pleading glance.
“Sorry.”
The young mother thrust a disposable diaper and a Sharpie at her. “It’s permanent ink. I have to label all her stuff for daycare.” She jiggled the baby to make her stop crying. “Hush, Jillie. That’s Gentry Fox.”
Several heads came up. So much for the novel. The time before her flight would not be spent reading. Shortly before boarding, she escaped to the rest room. Though a couple diehards waited outside her stall, she took out her phone and called Cameron, just to make sure he and Denny had made it in all right.
She took the phone down and checked the number she’d dialed when a woman with a British accent answered. “Hello?”
“I’m … I was looking for Cameron Pierce.”
“He’s in bed. Can I help you?”
She hadn’t imagined him with a housekeeper. She had no housekeeper. “Is this…? Who is this?”
“It’s Myra, Gentry. I don’t know if he’s mentioned me.”
Right. The marriage that never happened. “I just wanted to make sure he got in all right.”
“He’s fine. A little ragged, but he’ll be fine.”
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