by Tara Randel
The solitary man remained still. Zoe’s heart began to pound. She didn’t have it in her to stop, as if an invisible force shoved her closer to her destination.
The man turned around.
She slowed her steps, wary now.
When he removed his aviator-shaped sunglasses, she gasped, her knees nearly buckling beneath her.
“Hello, Zoe,” the stranger standing before her said.
She blinked. It couldn’t be, could it? How could it be?
“Mitch?” she whispered past the obstruction in her taut throat.
“Yes. It’s me.”
The husband she’d thought was dead stood before her, very much alive.
Chapter Two
MITCH HAD EXPECTED his wife’s surprise. After all, to her, he’d risen from the dead.
His hand gripped the cane that had become his lifeline. He wanted to heave it over the railing, but that meant lifting an arm that still needed rehab to function properly. Instead of cataloguing his injuries, he focused on his shell-shocked wife.
“I don’t understand. We were told... I thought you were...”
“Dead?”
She reached out to place her palms on the deck railing.
“The report was mistaken.”
“But... How... Why?”
“I was injured in a truck accident while leaving a refugee camp.”
She visibly pulled herself together. Took a step toward him, faltered and stopped. “Pretty soon I’m going to have a ton of questions, but right now...I don’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘welcome home’?”
He watched her struggle with this major surprise. “When did you get here?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
“How?” Her gaze took in his appearance and he knew what she saw. A guy who’d lost weight, whose complexion had turned pasty after weeks in the hospital. Not the image of the healthy husband who’d walked out of her life nearly two years ago.
“Wyatt. I called him to tell him I was heading home. He picked me up at the airport.”
A flush of red crept up her neck. “You didn’t think to call your wife?”
“I did, but considering how we ended our last conversation, I thought it would be better if I talked to you in person.”
She ran a hand through her shoulder-length black hair. What had happened to the long straight strands that had reached to her midback? In the hospital, he’d dreamed of running his fingers through it. Had dreamed of her easy smile, which was nowhere to be found right now. Had he expected her to jump into his arms when she saw him again despite the circumstances? Expect that old feelings would rush over her again? Disappointment swamped him. She looked like the same Zoe, yet there was something different about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“I’m sorry, you didn’t want to call me? Despite everything, didn’t you think I’d have wanted to know you were at least okay?”
He shifted as the weight on his weak leg grew uncomfortable. “I should have called, but after the accident and long recovery, I just wanted to get back to Cypress Pointe.”
She opened her mouth, then slammed it shut. His excuse probably echoed false, like so many of the ones he’d tossed her way in the past.
“Zoe, I realize this is a shock.”
“Really? A shock?” Her voice cracked. “We thought you were dead!”
“I get it—”
“Do you? We went for weeks not knowing where you were. I tried every number I could think of. Your assistant, Maria, got ahold of a few contacts who pointed us in the direction of Jordan. And then the only information she could find was that you were somewhere along the Syrian border. I hoped...prayed...”
He took a halting step forward to stand closer to his wife. Her familiar scent of vanilla mixed with a hint of floral enveloped him. All he wanted was to cup her sweet face and stare into her blue eyes. Instead, he met her gaze, which had finally moved from shock to anger.
The headache knocking at the back of his skull leaped to a full-blown hammer. He closed his eyes. Took measured breaths.
A soft touch landed on his tender arm and the muscles seized.
“Mitch. Are you okay?”
He slowly opened his eyes. “Pain. In my head.”
“Do you want to go inside? Get out of the sun?”
The old Mitch rebelled at her suggestion. He’d been cooped up for too long. Yeah, the bright light wasn’t helping the throbbing in his head, but he needed to feel the warmth on his skin, savor the earthy scent of sea and sand, listen to the waves rush upon the shore and ebb back into the blue water he’d dreamed of while gone.
“In a few minutes.”
The current Mitch tried to be more levelheaded, to take the advice of the doctors to not overdo. He hadn’t exactly been a model patient.
“At least sit down.”
He shook his head and immediately regretted it. “It feels good to stand.”
“Okay. Can I get you water?”
“Not right now. I just want to enjoy being here.”
A shadow crossed her face. He hadn’t known what to expect in terms of a homecoming. Confusion? No doubt. Awkwardness? Sure. Anger? Most definitely. Now that the conversation had stalled, he wasn’t sure which direction to steer it.
Zoe ran a shaky hand over her forehead. “So much has happened. Changed, since you’ve been gone.”
“I imagine. I know it’ll take a while to catch up.”
“Why did it take so long for you to contact...Wyatt?”
“I lost my memory after the crash. Only recently was I able to fit the pieces of my life together.”
The color washed out of her cheeks. “It was that bad?”
“Apparently. I remember driving down a dirt road, then waking up in the hospital. They told me I was unconscious for a week.”
“Why didn’t the hospital contact your family?”
“It was in a pretty remote area. I didn’t have my press credentials with me and my ID got lost in the confusion.”
Her brow wrinkled. “We got word that you were dead a year ago. What happened?”
“I kind of went rogue. After I left last time, with all that went down between us, I started traveling, working on my own and didn’t bother to report in to Maria. I don’t know how the rumor of my death started, other than I was near an explosion site early on, so I guess since I hadn’t spoken with anyone, they assumed the worst. The accident happened later.”
“But before, I tried to find you. I called different publications you’d worked with to see if you were on assignment and no one could get ahold of you.”
“I was off the grid.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It’s a long story. And since we’d decided to separate, I didn’t think it mattered.”
“This is overwhelming.” Zoe’s gaze swept over him again. Taking inventory of his shortcomings? He pushed himself to stand taller, even with the pain screaming in his leg. “I need to sit down.” She moved to a nearby wrough iron patio chair and dropped into the seat.
He followed, making sure she wasn’t looking before taking a bracing breath and lowering himself into a chair beside her. There was no way he’d admit how bad his injuries were. At least not until he got a handle on how things stood between them after his sudden reappearance. To his dismay, tears were rolling down Zoe’s cheeks. She brushed them away and said, after a bitter laugh, “When I got up this morning, I never expected to find out my husband is alive and back in Cypress Pointe.”
“I’m sorry, Zoe.”
She glanced at her clasped hands, then back at him. “You should have called me, Mitch. I would have come to get you. You are my husband.”
“Am I? Or was I?”
Her gaze slid away.
To be honest,
he hadn’t been sure she’d come to his rescue. Sure, he’d never stopped believing, hoping, that her love for him would be bigger than their problems. Enough to push her out of her comfort zone and into his arms. But as his career took off, her connection to the people of Cypress Pointe had grown. Her loyalty to a town had been one of the sticking points in their relationship, so he’d decided to take the easy way out and call his friend instead of his wife.
“I wasn’t too sure about the husband part.”
She’d threatened to file for a divorce before he left. Had she followed through? He hadn’t signed any papers, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t had them drawn up. Is that why she’d tried to find him? To end the marriage for good?
“Yes,” she said in a quiet voice. “We’re still married.”
Question answered.
“I had the papers, but when we thought you were dead, I put them aside.”
The abbreviated relief evaporated. She’d made good on her promise. He hadn’t thought she’d carry through, but he had been wrong. About a lot of things.
He stretched out his leg to relieve the cramp twisting his calf.
“Everyone will be happy to see you.”
“Are you?”
“How can you ask me that?” Indignation laced her tone. “Of course, I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Glad he was okay” and “happy to see him” were two different answers. They’d had their share of epic arguments in the past but at her core, Zoe wasn’t mean-spirited enough to wish he’d stayed dead and gone.
She glanced at his cane. “So you’ll need more recovery time?”
He’d been told as much. Physical therapy. Probably someone to talk to about his memory loss. Figure out if there was any way to get back the life he’d lived before the accident.
Traveling for two days had sapped his energy. Layovers. Uncomfortable seats on long flights. Not to mention the unsettling sensation of being watched when he’d flown out of Queen Alia International Airport in Jordan. Did he need to add paranoia to his list of injuries?
A cough sounded from the steps. Zoe jumped and looked over her shoulder.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, guilt washing over her features.
She hurried over to a guy dressed in a suit and they spoke in low tones. Who was he? Why was Zoe so concerned about this other guy? He sent Mitch an I’m-watching-you signal and backed away. Ah. A new guy in her life? The territorial scowl explained it. Mitch wasn’t sure he liked the idea of his wife seeing another guy but, under the circumstances, he had no right to object. He’d made the decision to check out of her life a long time ago.
Zoe returned but didn’t take a seat. “Sorry. I needed to...um...”
“Let me guess. Your date to the wedding?”
Her face flushed. “Yes. I’ve only—”
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain,” he said even with his mind crying, Of course, she does! “You didn’t think I was alive. You never would have dreamed I’d show up here today.”
“Mitch, we have a lot to talk about.”
Yeah. They did. He rubbed the jackhammer tempo pounding his temples. “Maybe later?”
She looked like she was going to argue, then thought better of it.
“Where are you staying?”
He’d thought with her. Guess not.
“I’ll bunk at Wyatt’s place.”
“I’ll drop by later. I’ve got to let Mom and—” she stopped abruptly “—others know you’re alive.”
He dropped his hand to his knee. “Fine.”
“Mitch?”
He squinted up at her.
“I am happy you’re alive.”
He merely nodded. Relieved that she still had some kind of feelings for him, he watched her turn on her heel and hurry off, taking the arm of the man who was waiting for her before disappearing into the hotel.
So. This was what jealously felt like. He’d never experienced it concerning Zoe before. Didn’t much care for it.
Spent now, he rose and made his way back to the view he’d been savoring before Zoe had arrived. Taking a deep breath of fresh Cypress Pointe air, he suddenly wondered why he’d ever left her at all. Then, just as quickly, memories bombarded him, reminding him exactly why.
He yanked the sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and clumsily placed them over his eyes.
The beach looked the same. The water, still a brilliant blue-green, drawing tourists to the quaint seaside town. So much the same, yet his entire life had been blasted to oblivion. Upended by a decision that had nearly cost him his life.
It seemed like yesterday that he’d started his career here. When Zoe’s mother had given him a camera as a way of channeling his boundless energy, he’d taken to it immediately. The natural surroundings of Cypress Pointe had been an inspiring subject. Samantha had taken one look at his shots and proclaimed he’d found his calling. Skeptical at first, he’d experimented by finding different places and techniques to take photos, pleased he’d latched onto something constructive to steer his life. He had been eighteen, rudderless, except for Zoe, and he’d had no idea what his future held.
Eventually, Samantha had begun showing his photos in her art gallery. The popularity of his work had grown and before long, local and then national publications began calling for freelance work. New opportunities opened up. At first, Zoe helped him book assignments, but eventually her causes took over.
When things started to go south in the marriage, he took whatever job he could find just to get away again. It wasn’t until he’d left the last time that the job to photograph conditions at the refugee camp had caught his attention. Zoe’s kicking him to the curb had probably been a major factor in his choice. But who knew he’d have ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time?
Heavy footsteps pounded over the wooden deck, announcing an arrival. Mitch shook off his thoughts and turned just as Wyatt joined him at the railing.
“You okay?” his friend asked.
“Been better.”
“Zoe gave me the evil eye just now.”
“You aren’t the only one.”
“So how did it go?”
“As you’d expect. She’s angry but doing a good job keeping a lid on it.” He looked over the water. “Said we need to talk.” He eyed his friend. “Never good when a woman says those words.”
Wyatt remained quiet.
“Something I should know?”
When Wyatt didn’t meet his gaze, a bad feeling curled in his gut.
“Better you have a conversation with Zoe,” Wyatt told him.
“Now I have all kinds of what-ifs running around my head.”
“Just sit down with Zoe when you get home. It’ll be okay.”
A motorboat zipped by in the distance. Mitch longed for freedom from his injuries and the past, but knew that jumping in a speeding boat would never solve his problems.
“About that. Seems I need a place to stay.”
Wyatt turned his head, his expression incredulous. “She didn’t ask you to come home?”
“I’m thinking maybe I don’t have a home to go to.”
Wyatt blew out a breath. “You can stay with me.”
Mitch made a fist and squeezed. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d rather we left here before the people inside find out I’m back. Talking with Zoe is about all I can handle right now.”
“You got it.” He yanked a set of keys from his pants pocket. “My truck is in the lot.”
Taking one last gaze at the boat, now far enough away to be only a speck on the tranquil waters, questions assailed him again. What would happen now? Old feelings for his wife, mixed with the conflicted emotions he’d stored away when he’d left Cypress Pointe for goo
d, betrayed him.
Mitch leaned heavily on his cane, following his buddy to the parking lot, wondering how long it would be before the hurricane that had managed to wreck his life hit again.
* * *
“MOM? WHERE ARE YOU?” Zoe called as she closed the front door behind her.
She tossed her clutch on the couch, then kicked off her shoes and fell back against the cushions, exhaling the pressure that had been working up inside her chest since she’d left the hotel.
Mitch was alive! She still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. So many emotions, so many questions. What did this mean? Did she carry through with the divorce? Did they try to fix their marriage, in light of Leo? And why hadn’t she told him he was a father?
Guilt and anger walloped her. Yes, she should have told Mitch right away. But after learning he hadn’t called her immediately to let her know he was safe and alive, a selfish part of her had held back. She’d tell him later when she went to Wyatt’s house to talk to him, but back there at the hotel? She couldn’t. Her pride had made her mute about their son, along with the residual hurt that produced reservations about revealing the truth.
“Mom?” she called again. When she didn’t receive an answer, she hauled herself up and walked to the back of the house, sure to find her mother holed up in her studio. The southern exposure of light was an artist’s dream. Perfect for when Samantha was creating a new piece.
“Hi, Mom.”
Samantha never took her gaze from the canvas as she dabbed paint on the project before her.
“Is Leo okay?”
“Of course.” Her mother paused to glance briefly at Zoe, then back to her piece. “Why are you home early?”
“We need to talk.”
Samantha went still. She didn’t like dealing with real-world problems, preferring to let Zoe or an assistant take care of her life. Dealing with critical issues, like Mitch returning from the dead, were not her forte.
“Can it wait?” her mother asked, already looking for a way to avoid the conversation.
“No.”
“Let me just get this last shade...”
While she finished her task, Zoe roamed the room, thinking of a way to break the earth-shattering news.
