After checking a dozen car seats, taking pictures of families posing in front of the fire trucks with King, and answering several questions, a familiar SUV rolled up to the station.
“Dad, Dad, Dad.” Sitting in the back seat, my son waved through the open window of his stepfather’s car.
I greeted Grant in the usual way—fist bump, elbow bump, spin around, hop. “How’s it going, buddy? What are you doing here?”
He gestured to his half brother in the car seat next to him. “Mom wants us to get Aiden’s car seat checked.”
“Yeah.” Aiden strained against the straps of his car seat.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” I shook hands with my ex-wife’s husband. Ford always shook my hand whenever we met. I supposed it was his way of saying, Despite stealing your wife, I come in peace. No hard feelings.
Honestly, I liked the guy. Yes, he’d impregnated my wife while I was still married to her. Yes, I’d been infuriated when I found out Scarlet was divorcing me to marry Ford. And yes, the rumors were true, all this happened while I was in rehab and desperately needed the support of a loving family.
Yet, apart from sleeping with my wife, Ford had always treated me with respect. Back in California, he even picked up my grandmother from the airport when I wasn’t able to get off work on time due to an emergency. Abuela had a few choice words to say about Ford’s overly cautious driving skills, but I couldn’t fault the guy for that.
Most importantly, Ford was a good stepfather to Grant. In the end, that was all that mattered.
Besides, in regard to my marriage, I’d gotten what I deserved. For years, I missed important events because I was too drunk or too hungover to get off the couch. Scarlet begged me to seek help. I’d try, and things would be better for a while. Then, I’d mess up and start drinking again.
Ultimately, I found the right rehab program, one that incorporated a heavy dose of talk therapy, where I was forced to explore every aspect of how the deaths of my parents and brother affected me.
Ford gestured to the empty parking lot. “I hope we’re not too late to get Aiden’s car seat checked. We meant to come earlier, but the afternoon got away from us.”
“We went to the slide park.” Grant beamed at me, completely oblivious to the fact that I wanted to be the first person to take him to Rose Island’s newest park. He hadn’t known that, of course, nor had Ford, but it still stung.
Forcing a smile, I asked my son, “How was it?”
“Awesome.”
“Yeah. Awesome,” little Aiden repeated, imitating his older brother.
My son patted my arm with his little hand. “Maybe you can come with us next time.”
“I’d like that.” I turned back to Ford. “It’s not too late for me to check the car seat, but you didn’t have to come all the way down to the station. I could’ve done it anytime I picked up Grant.”
He shrugged. “Scarlet’s working late tonight, so we were down here anyway.”
“We’re going to Henry’s for burgers and shakes,” Grant said. “Want to come with us?”
I smiled awkwardly. “Maybe another time, buddy. I’ve got to work.”
“Okay.”
Later, after the car seat had been approved and Grant and Aiden had climbed all over the fire engine and met everyone, Ford and the boys drove away. I acknowledged my pain and reminded myself it was okay to feel sad. Sometimes life was painful. Embrace the pain, but don’t let it control you.
Oscar wiped down the engine. “You okay?”
I shrugged off my melancholy. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”
“Just peachy.” He grinned and started to say something sarcastic, but tones dropped, causing us to forget about everything but responding to the call.
Chapter 22
Vicki
After breakfast on the beach, I spent the rest of my birthday at the bakery. Everyone kept telling me to take the day off, but I’d never been good at letting go of my responsibilities. Even though I had trustworthy employees and had left the bakery in their hands while going on several mission trips with our church, my employees’ standards weren’t always the same as mine.
Plus, I was hoping to discover through the island gossip why Seth was back. Someone had to know something.
It took a few hours, but eventually, Kate Tate came into the bakery to pick up a cake for her daughter’s soccer team. “I suppose you heard about Seth Watson,” she said, handing me her credit card.
Running her card, I shook my head. “No, what do you mean?”
“He’s back on the island.”
“Oh?” I flipped over the screen for her to sign the receipt.
“He’s divorced now, you know.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Yes, it’s a very sad story. Apparently, his wife married her new husband on the day her divorce to Seth was finalized. Six months later, she and her new husband welcomed a baby boy into the world.”
I knew exactly what Kate was implying, but I pretended to play dumb. “Oh, wow. A preemie. I didn’t know that. Poor Scarlet.”
Kate gave me a wry look before scoffing. “The baby wasn’t born premature, Vicki. Seth’s wife cheated on him. She got pregnant with another man’s baby while still married to Seth.”
I’d come to that conclusion on my own, of course, but Kate’s joy in the difficulties of others drove me crazy. I lifted my chin. “Wow, Kate, I didn’t realize you were such good friends with Seth and Scarlet.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, so this is all rumor and hearsay?”
Kate’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not spreading rumors, Vicki. What I told you was a fact.”
I nodded and let it go. Kate collected her credit card and cake before leaving. Oh, Lord. Give me more compassion for that woman. Help me love her like you do.
As I wiped down the counter, my thoughts returned to Seth. Although Seth’s marriage to Scarlet had nearly destroyed me, I was sad to hear about his divorce. Divorce was always painful, regardless of the circumstances.
That evening, Bianca and I walked over to the marina. Instead of having my birthday dinner at the family ranch as usual, Keith offered to take us out in his boat.
With all nine of us—my parents, Jillian, Keith, their kids, Bianca, and me—it was a tight fit on the boat. To make matters worse, Jillian’s baby fussed endlessly, and the food catered from the new restaurant was mediocre at best.
Yet, as we cruised along the shore, a sense of peace and contentment filled me. In the sky above us, the stars shone brightly. As a light breeze swept across the deck, keeping us cool, my oldest nephew, Matt, played his guitar, a soulful song about love and loss.
Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with my wonderful family. I know I’m incredibly fortunate. Help me to always be grateful and appreciate everything you’ve given me.
Sinking onto the seat beside me, Jillian gently rubbed her daughter’s back. “She’s finally sleeping. Will you hold her for a minute so I can run down to the galley and get your birthday cake?”
The familiar panic that came anytime someone asked me to hold a baby returned. I started to make up an excuse, but my mother rescued me.
“You sit and hold your daughter,” she told Jillian. “I’ll go down and get the cake.”
Jillian nestled into her baby’s chubby neck. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Of course.” My mother left, and for a moment, my sister and I sat in silence. The boat gently rocked back and forth, calming me down and lulling me into a state of almost peace.
I glanced at the baby, suddenly filled with a desire to hold her. Placing a tentative hand on her back, I felt the rise and fall of her chest.
“Here.” Jillian gathered her daughter in preparation to hand her to me.
I pulled away. “Oh, no, I don’t want to disturb her. She looks comfortable with you.”
“That’s what I thought.” Jillian settled back into the seat with the baby.
“What do you mean?”
> My sister gave an exasperated sigh. “When Matt and Drew were babies, you held them all the time. You talked about how much you loved babies and couldn’t wait to have one of your own. You even worked as a nanny while going to college. But, Vicki . . . you’ve never held Linda Faith. I know she can be cranky, but it feels horrible knowing you don’t like her.”
My heart fell. “Oh, Jillian. That’s not it.”
“No?”
“No, of course not. I like her. She’s my niece, and I love her. I just—” I pushed myself off the bench and shook my head. “It’s just—”
Oh, Lord. It’s been years. Why am I so haunted by what happened with Allie? Why can’t I get over it? Why am I so afraid?
“Happy birthday to you,” my mother sang, holding my cake as she climbed the narrow steps onto the deck.
Everyone joined in, and for the moment, I was spared having to explain myself.
*
On the walk home, Bianca seemed upset. As we climbed the steps to our apartments, I demanded she tell me what was wrong.
“It’s nothing,” she insisted.
“Yeah, right. You’ve been my sister for how long? That’s right, my whole life. I can totally read you, and I know something is wrong, so just tell me.”
She sighed. “Okay, but don’t laugh.”
“I won’t.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“I’m thinking about trying that online dating service you use. Do you think you could help me set up a profile?”
“Seriously? Yes.” My heart lifted at the thought of helping her with that. “I’d love to help you. Absolutely! Let’s set up your profile right now.”
She shook her head. “No, we don’t have to do it tonight. We can do it another time.”
“Oh, no.” I punched in the code to her apartment and let myself in. “This is a great idea. I’m not going to let the opportunity pass. It will take fifteen minutes, then you can spend the rest of the night scrolling through your possibilities.”
Bianca pushed out a breath. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe I should—”
“What? Wait for Daniel Serrano to wise up and notice you?”
Her face fell, making me feel guilty for being so blunt. “Bianca, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just saying that some guys are clueless. Maybe you’ll find he’s on there or maybe you’ll find someone even better. You deserve a great guy, and it’s okay to put yourself out there like this.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Yeah? That’s awesome.” I gave her a quick hug.
For the next hour, we sat on her couch side by side, setting up her account. After what felt like forever, we finally chose a picture, uploaded it, and answered all the suggested questions.
“What do I do now?” Bianca asked, sounding apprehensive.
“Just press submit, then you’ll be able to see your matches.”
A look of sheer panic overtook her. “Oh, Vicki. I don’t know about this. Maybe this is a mistake.”
“No, it’s a little scary, but it’s not a mistake. At the very least, you’ll get to meet a bunch of guys you’ve never met before. You’ll have fun.”
She tapped her foot. “Okay, but you’ll help me delete it if I change my mind?”
“Definitely.”
With one last deep breath, she pressed the button that would send her profile into the dating world. We waited with anticipation as the matches piled up. “Oh my goodness. Did all those guys match with me?”
“They did.” I had to admit I was both surprised and envious. How did Bianca have so many matches? Was that really possible?
I supposed it helped that my sister’s only requirement for a guy was that he went to church regularly and wanted kids. My expectations were a little higher than that, which in my opinion, wasn’t unreasonable.
Without explanation, Bianca walked into the kitchen and returned with a bag of chips. After popping a few in her mouth, she offered the bag to me. I shook my head, still determined to uphold my low-carb lifestyle as much as possible.
Shifting on the couch, she pressed a hand to her heart. “I’m so nervous I can barely stand it. Do you realize in just a few minutes I may be seeing my future husband?”
I patted her arm, feeling like the older, wiser sister rather than the younger one. “Don’t get too excited, okay? I’ve had an online dating profile forever, and I’m still waiting to meet the one.”
“That’s because you’re too picky.”
“I’m not too picky.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please, you’re so picky it’s ridiculous. If you didn’t have such high expectations, you could be married by next weekend.”
I shook my head. That wasn’t true. Bianca didn’t know what she was talking about. While my expectations were high, they weren’t too high.
As Bianca scrolled through her list of prospective dates, she squealed at every profile. “Oh, look at him, he’s adorable. And this one . . . what beautiful eyes. Oh, Vicki, this hunk of love is a doctor.” She squeezed my arm hard. “Can’t you just imagine me as a doctor’s wife?”
I smiled at her enthusiasm. Unfortunately, she’d soon learn what I’d learned long ago.
Judging a man based on his profile alone was impossible. A guy who looked great online could turn out to be a huge disappointment. Plus, there was the chemistry factor . . . that inexplicable spark between two people. Nothing could predict that.
The image of a certain firefighter who’d broken my heart one too many times popped into my head. No, I wouldn’t think about Seth right now even if he did still make me swoon. Instead, I’d just move on and forget about that whole mess.
Bianca’s squeal cracked through my musings. “Oh, Vicki. The doctor volunteers with Doctors Without Borders. Isn’t that amazing? Maybe I could travel with him and offer free haircuts. Of course, I’d have to find someone to run the salon while I was gone, but Jenny could probably do that. Or I could hire someone else.”
I smiled at my kind and optimistic sister. Then, I made a conscious decision not to tell her about the last doctor I’d met for dinner. Although his profile had been wonderful, Dr. Ibarra had spent the entire evening checking various sports games on his phone.
“Boring Bryan, seriously?” Bianca froze at a profile and burst into laughter. “Oh, no. Definitely not. I’m not dating Boring Bryan.”
I smiled, feeling a little sorry for Jillian’s ex-boyfriend. Boring Bryan, as Bianca had always called him, was in his early forties. Would I still be doing the online dating thing when I turned forty? Now that I was thirty-five, forty seemed very close.
Fearful of my future, I reached for the bag of chips and took a bite of the salty, crunchy, melt-in-your-mouth goodness. Oh, Lord. Please send me a man before I turn forty. Please. Thy will be done, of course.
Bianca continued scrolling down the page, giving each profile a yes, no, or definitely yes. Suddenly, she sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, Vicki.”
“What?”
Her voice held a tenderness I didn’t understand. “It’s Seth Watson.”
“It is?”
She nodded, then she threw her head back and roared with laughter. “That’s hilarious. Can you believe I matched with Seth Watson? Can you imagine?”
My heart beat in my throat as Bianca read Seth’s statistics aloud. “Seth Watson, age thirty, Rose Island, Texas. One hundred percent match. ‘Seven things about me: I love God, my son, AA, kayaking, reading, and chocolate. I’m looking for a woman who is ready for marriage, will love my son, and wants kids of our own through natural means or adoption.’”
“I can’t believe it.” Bianca squeezed my arm. “How precious is that?”
I swallowed hard. “Pretty precious.”
Of course, Seth wanted to find a woman interested in having kids. He told me that years ago. Three to six kids, he’d said.
Being with someone like me who didn’t want kids at all . . . we never would’ve
lasted.
“Should I send him a message? Maybe, ‘Hey, baby, wanna make some babies?’” Bianca laughed. “Maybe I’ll just accost him at church. Put a note for him in the collection basket or just sit next to him and see what he says.”
An image of Bianca and Seth sitting together in church, sharing a hymnal, filled me with sorrow and jealousy. I didn’t think she was serious about dating him, but just the thought of it upset me.
“Can you imagine?” She gave a sarcastic laugh, oblivious to my heartache. “I used to babysit Seth. No way am I going to date him.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” I said. “I imagine he’s still getting over his divorce.”
Bianca scoffed. “Maybe, but it sure didn’t take his ex-wife very long to get over the divorce. And if Seth is still trying to get over everything, why is he on this dating site?”
I shrugged. “He probably still wants a family.”
“That makes sense.” She glanced back at his profile. “It’s sweet that he’s open to adoption.”
I nodded, and we sat there in silence for a minute, me thinking about Seth and Bianca thinking about who knew what. Whatever it was, it caused her to suddenly change her mind about online dating.
“You know what?” She punched random keys on the computer. “I don’t think I want to do this. How do I get rid of this thing? How do I delete it?”
“Bianca, no.” I pulled the laptop away from her. “It took us forever to set up your profile. Don’t give up so soon. Maybe Daniel Serrano is on there.”
“No, he’s not. Or if he is, we didn’t match.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean anything.”
She reached for the computer again, but I held it at arm’s length. “Just give it a little time.”
“No. You said you’d help me delete my profile if I changed my mind. Well, I’ve changed my mind, so please get rid of it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I can’t do this right now.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.” Something I didn’t understand flashed across her face. “I have too much going on right now.”
“Like what?”
Vicki's Gift: Rose Island Book 4 Page 14
