by B. J Daniels
Lately he’d fallen into a routine and had begun to feel safe. He answered to the name Joe and had begun to embrace island life. Hermon had offered to take him into town anytime he wanted to go, but he’d declined, saying he was happy in this little cove. He wore the hand-me-down clothing Marissa had found for him and was thankful just to have clothing. Hermon offered to buy him anything he needed in town, but he didn’t need anything more than the construction tools and wood the man delivered every few days.
“I will have guests coming soon,” Marissa had said when he’d thanked her for a new shirt, a pair of shorts and a pair of sneakers she’d had Hermon buy for him. “I need you to look respectable or you’ll scare away my guests.” She’d said it half-jokingly, but one look in the mirror and he could understand her fears. The scar on his cheek was healing, but he still looked rough.
Marissa gave him a pair of scissors and a razor to clean up, but he hadn’t used either more than to trim his beard a little. When he looked in the mirror, he felt as if he’d never had a beard or let his hair get this long before and for some reason, it made him feel safe, as if it was his old image he was running from and had to fear.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHEN THE WOMAN arrived at the reopened cottages that evening, Joe had been working late in one of the structures. He’d heard the vehicle coming but hadn’t worried because he’d recognized the sound of the engine as being Hermon’s taxi. Marissa’s nephew came to visit a few times a week. No one else had come—until last night.
The headlights of Hermon’s taxi blinded him at first when he’d stepped out of the shadows of the cottage. Marissa had asked if he would mind helping with the guests’ luggage until all the cottages were ready and she could hire staff. He’d been happy to accommodate her since she had been so kind to him. She’d fed him, nursed him back to health, given him a place to stay and paid him. She’d also trusted him.
But he hadn’t expected guests so soon. Only one of the cottages was finished. He’d thought Marissa would wait until he had more repairs completed before she allowed guests to stay at the resort.
So as the taxi had pulled in, he’d stepped out to say hello to Hermon. He’d taken a liking to the big islander. With a start, he’d realized that the man wasn’t alone. He’d quickly stepped back into the dark shadows along the side of the cottage, that deep-rooted fear suddenly alive inside him.
As the woman stepped out, he’d seen her silhouetted against the night, that slender body, and his heart began to pound. She’d triggered something in him. He’d stood against the building, fighting to breathe through the panic that filled him. For an instant, he’d almost turned and run.
His memory had been a blank slate for weeks and nothing had sparked even an inkling of concern. Until he’d seen her. He told himself that he didn’t know her and that it seemed impossible that she’d come here to harm him. And yet his initial response to seeing her had been surprise and alarm.
When Marissa had asked him to take her suitcase to the first cabin, he’d almost not responded. But he’d felt oddly drawn to the woman. Stepping forward from the shadowy darkness, he’d watched the young woman’s eyes widen when she’d noticed him, as if she too was surprised to see him.
Looking into her face, he hadn’t recognized her. He hadn’t been able to put a name to her or a place or even one single memory. But she’d made his heart pound and he’d felt vulnerable and afraid.
This morning, he remembered both of their reactions. Was it possible she hadn’t come looking for him? Hadn’t known he was here? He’d tried to convince himself that she’d been startled by him, especially given the way he looked. But the woman had appeared shocked to see him, as if...as if she knew him. He’d searched her eyes for a moment, but then quickly dropped his gaze to take her suitcase to cottage one. Once there, he’d quickly checked the luggage tag.
Ashley Jo Somerfield, Houston, Texas.
Ashley Jo. He repeated the name and felt something stir inside him, but quickly slip away. He’d left her cottage to rush to his own hut in the trees. He’d thought again about running, but where would he go, what would he do? He had no money except for the little Marissa had paid him on top of room and board. He wasn’t even sure where he was in relation to the rest of the world. Worse, as long as he didn’t know who he was, he had no way off the island—at least not legally. And there was that feeling that someone had tried to harm him and would again. Someone he wouldn’t even recognize.
Although still feeling off balance, he told himself that if there was any place he was safe, it was here. Well, as safe as he could be anywhere under the circumstances. He knew the area well. The small cove was sheltered on three sides by a mountain covered with dense vegetation. There was only one road in—he could hear a vehicle coming long before it came into sight. The only other way to get to the small resort was by sea but there was no place to land other than the beach. Not that it would stop anyone with a boat. If they knew he was here.
So he’d decided to stay and keep his distance from the woman and yet watch her and wait. He couldn’t understand her reaction to him. Or his to her. But if anyone knew who he was and what he was doing here, he thought it might be her.
And if she’d come here to kill him?
Well, then, she’d found him and the next move was hers. He wasn’t sure he could trust his instincts when it came to her. He was attracted to her at the same time he feared her. If she knew him and had answers, he desperately wanted them and yet he was terrified of what she might tell him.
And could he believe her?
Trust was something he was in very short supply of right now.
* * *
AFTER A RESTLESS, sleepless night, AJ rose, showered and headed up to the main cottage for breakfast. She was disappointed to find out that she was the only one eating. On the walk up to the dining room, she’d looked for the man she’d seen last night, but he didn’t seem to be around.
She took a seat by the open French doors with a view of the ocean and the beach—and one of the cottages being repaired. She worried that he might have taken off and that she would never find him again. If he’d even been Cyrus.
AJ had almost convinced herself that she’d imagined seeing him last night. In the light of day, she expected the man she’d seen to look nothing like Cyrus. She was thankful she hadn’t called Flint. It would be worse to give him false hope after everything he and the family had been through.
Marissa told her about the breakfast menu. “We’re still not completely back up to our usual fare.”
“That’s not a problem,” she assured the woman and said she would take coffee and whatever else Marissa had. The way she felt, she wasn’t sure she could get a bite down anyway. The woman returned a few minutes later with her coffee.
AJ had just picked up her cup and taken a sip when the man came into view. She slowly put down the cup with trembling fingers as she stared at him. His chest was bare and sun-browned, his strong shoulders looked even stronger as he carried a stack of two-by-fours from the parking area to the cottage he was working on. He wore a pair of shorts that were too large for him and hung low on his slim hips. On his feet were a pair of worn sneakers.
She stared, realizing that she’d never seen Cyrus in anything but jeans, boots and a Western shirt. As she sat there, she kept getting glimpses of his tanned sweat-glistening upper body as he worked. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“Nice view, isn’t it,” Marissa said as she put a plate in front of her.
“Beautiful.” She dragged her gaze away to see a plate of fresh fruit, a smoked fish spread and homemade bread with a slice of cheese. “You said there’s a map of the area?”
The woman nodded. “I could call my nephew to show you the way to the hot spring. You would like that. Very relaxing.”
“I can find it. Today though, I think I’ll go for a swim and spend some time on the beac
h.”
“Anytime you want to go up to the hot spring, let me know. I’ll make you a picnic lunch today and leave it in the refrigerator,” Marissa said. “I have to go into town. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?”
“I think I have everything I need,” she said and watched Cyrus out of the corner of her eye. She took a bite of her breakfast. “This is delicious.”
It wasn’t until Marissa went back into the kitchen that she turned her attention from the food on her plate. She knew she had to eat. But her gaze kept going to the man working down at the beach cottage.
* * *
SHE’D NEVER BEEN INDECISIVE. But she had no idea what to do next. Had she only imagined the fear in Cyrus’s eyes last night? She didn’t think so. She finished breakfast, eating what she could. The sun hung over the sea to the east, a huge ball of fire lighting up an already hot day. She walked back to her cottage. Cyrus was at work on cottage number three, two doors down. For a few moments, she stood on the portico of her cottage, letting the salty breeze lift her long hair.
Down the beach, a shirtless Cyrus swung a hammer, his muscled torso flexing with each blow. She watched him, aching with a need to go to him. Whatever had happened, it had changed him so much that she hardly recognized him. Physically, he looked as if he’d been wounded but had survived. But mentally... When she looked into those beautiful gray eyes, she didn’t see the Cyrus she knew. The warmth and humor had been replaced with suspicion and a wariness. He was like an animal that had been beaten, she thought with a sob rising in her throat. She yearned to take him in her arms and assure him that everything was going to be all right.
But was it?
He stopped hammering as if feeling her gaze on him and lifted his head to look in her direction. Their eyes locked for a moment before he quickly turned back to his work. What she’d seen in that instant broke her heart. He didn’t know her. Worse, he didn’t trust her.
But she knew she couldn’t put off the call any longer. Going inside her cottage, she rang the sheriff.
Flint answered on the second ring, “AJ? Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner,” she said. When she’d first arrived in the Caribbean, she’d called him, giving him updates as she went to one island after another. But it was always the same news. No sign of Cyrus. She hadn’t wanted to keep giving him that depressing news any more than she could keep saying it herself.
“What is it?” He must have heard something in her voice.
She swallowed. “I found Cyrus.”
He made a choked sound. “Is he...?”
“He’s alive, but—”
“But?”
She told him about seeing him come out of the dark and again this morning. “He looked right at me and didn’t recognize me. He’s going by the name Joe. He doesn’t appear to either know who he is or he’s hiding out here.”
“But you talked to him.”
“Not really. He seems...scared. When he saw me, his reaction was more wary and suspicious than anything else. I’m afraid if I move too fast he might run.”
“I’m coming down there.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said quickly. “He’s working here at a very small and secluded resort on the island. I think he needs time.”
Flint swore. “But he’s alive.”
“He is. He looks good, different. Whatever happened to him, going overboard, somehow surviving in the ocean against all odds...it did something to him. Let me try to gain his confidence.”
“But if he knew he had a family back in Montana—”
“I’m not sure he could handle that right now. He’s skittish. I’m afraid he’ll bolt. Flint, right now, he’s like an animal that’s been beaten.”
The sheriff cursed, sounding close to tears. She knew the feeling.
“All right. But I’m going to have to tell the others.”
“It’s best that you don’t know where I am. I know Lillie. Nothing could keep her from coming down here.”
“I know you’re right, but I want nothing more than to be on the next plane down there. What if he is more spooked than you think and takes off?”
She’d worried about that after his initial reaction to seeing her. A part of her had worried that he’d be gone this morning when she got up. “He’s broke, has no identification, he can’t go far.”
“I’m going to trust your judgment. All your instincts told you that he was alive. You’re the one who went looking for him and found him. It should have been me.”
“You have a wife and new baby, a job,” AJ said. “I had to do this, so even if you had come down here, I would have been here, as well.”
“Thank God, AJ, that you did. Otherwise, we would have gone on believing he was dead. Now I have to trust that you know what is best for Cyrus.”
Did she? She wasn’t a doctor—not even close. She had no idea how to deal with this kind of possible traumatic brain injury. But she had to try.
“Take care of yourself,” Flint said to her.
“I’m going to bring him home. I promise,” she said, her voice breaking. “He’s going to need a passport.”
“Could you send a photo? I believe you that it’s him, but—”
“I’ll try. I know you need to see him to believe it. I understand.”
* * *
AFTER FLINT DISCONNECTED, he took a moment to pull himself together. He was overwhelmed with relief and choked up with worry. Cyrus was alive. But the man AJ described was hurt and confused with no memory. What had happened to him from the last time he’d seen him? Something. He had to agree with AJ, something was definitely wrong with all of this. The man he’d known wouldn’t have married Juliette—not even drunk. Which meant, whatever had happened to Cyrus had started in Denver when he met Juliette.
He picked up the phone and called his sister. Lillie answered on the third ring sounding harried. He worried about her because Maggie had told him that she was pregnant again. Having a toddler who kept her on her toes was enough without everything else that had been happening.
“What’s happened now?” she said as if hearing something in his voice.
“AJ just called.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “She found Cyrus.”
Lillie screamed. “He’s alive?”
Tears filled his eyes. He made a swipe at them. “He is. He needs to recuperate a little before he can come home.”
“Recuperate?”
“He apparently got pretty beat up before ending up on a beach down there.”
“Beat up?”
“He’s going to be his old self but it could be a week or two before he comes home.”
“Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
He’d made the decision not to tell Lillie everything because he knew his sister. If he didn’t want everyone knowing about Cyrus’s mental state, then he had to keep it from her.
“Have you told Juliette?” she asked. “Oh, please let me.”
“I’m about to call her.”
His sister pretended to pout. “This means she can’t demand part of the ranch, right?”
“Not as Cyrus’s widow.” But as his wife, if she were to divorce him... No reason to bring that up now.
“I thought you could let the rest of the family know.” He got off the line, knowing that his phone would be ringing off the hook soon with more questions. He’d gotten off easy with Lillie but only because she hadn’t had time to think about it.
He placed the call to Juliette.
* * *
WHEN JULIETTE SAW that the sheriff was calling she smiled to herself. Maybe he was going to finally make her an offer. She was at the point that she would take any reasonable amount.
“Hello?”
“Juliette, it’s Flint.”
As if she c
ouldn’t see that. “Yes, Flint?” All she could think about was getting out of this town. It had snowed every day until she thought she would lose her mind.
“I just got a call. Cyrus is alive.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m serious. He apparently survived. AJ found him.”
AJ? She cursed under her breath. Hadn’t she known the bitch was going to be trouble? “How is that possible? They said he couldn’t have survived after the first twenty-four hours.”
“Clearly, you didn’t know my brother very well.”
This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t have survived. Flint was lying. She stood stock-still, heart racing. But what would be the point of lying? It had to be true. Cyrus was alive? She glanced toward the door, expecting the police to bust it down any moment.
If it was true... Cyrus would have talked. He would have confided in his brother the sheriff. He would have yelled bloody murder.
So why hadn’t he? Was he waiting until he got back to Montana?
Her gaze swept the room, lighting on her suitcase. Run! It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to. Still she hesitated, unable to shake the feeling that Cyrus’s brother the sheriff wasn’t telling her everything.
“Juliette? You still there?”
“If true, why haven’t we heard from him?” she demanded.
“He’s been recuperating.”
“All these weeks? He must not be in very good shape.”
“AJ said he’s in great shape. Apparently, there’s a reason he hasn’t contacted you.”
She felt as if she’d been slapped. “Or contacted you.”
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“Where is he?” she asked quickly before he could hang up. “I want to talk to my husband.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“You can’t keep him from me. He’s my husband.”
