“Fuck!” she cries out, her voice pained.
Maddie bursts into laughter.
“Why are you laughing, you little imp?” shrieks Kayla as she sits up.
“That was funny!”
Red-hot with rage, Kayla makes a scathing face at the little girl. “No, it’s not!” Then, she examines her outfit, frantically brushing off the patches of dirt and dry bits of foliage that pepper her slacks and sweater. “Oh my God! My brand new Armani pants are totally trashed.”
Lifting Maddie off his shoulders and setting her down next to me, Finn hurries to Kayla’s aid. The two of us follow him.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
A dart of jealousy stabs me as Kayla massages her ankle. “Do you really have to ask?”
“Let me help you up.” He grabs Kayla’s hand and lifts her to her feet. She grimaces, her right foot unsteady.
“Can you walk?”
Holding onto Finn, she takes a step and, with a groan, almost crumples to the ground.
“Shit! I think I’ve broken my ankle. I can’t put any pressure on it. I need to get medical attention immediately!”
Despair washes over Finn. “Guys, I think we need to end this day early. We’ve got to get Kayla to an emergency room.”
Disappointment sweeps over Maddie. Her lips quiver and tears brim in her eyes. “But Daddy, you promised I could pet the animals and ride in the tractor.”
“Sunshine, I’m sorry.” His voice sounds so sincere, so remorseful.
A fat tear rolls down Maddie’s cheek as she starts to cry. Her sobs pain me.
“What are you crying about, you little brat!” barks Kayla. “This is all your fault!”
“No, it’s not!” I bite back, lifting the sniffling, runny-nose little girl into my arms. “It was an accident.”
Kayla sneers at me and then turns to Finn. “You need to carry me to the car. Let’s get the hell out of this dump!”
The vision of Finn gallantly carrying his beautiful wounded princess in his arms sickens me. Before he can lift her into his arms, a cute elderly couple that was picking apples alongside us approaches him. They’re each carrying a bag full of fruit.
“Is everything all right?” asks the concerned, white-haired wife.
His face tense, Finn sucks in a breath. “My fiancée just tripped and hurt her ankle. We have to cut our apple-picking trip short so we can take her to an emergency room.”
The wife’s gaze moves to me, taking in the still wailing Maddie.
“I bet your little girl wants to stay.”
Finn’s voice softens. “She does. And it’s her birthday.”
“Aww!” sighs the lovely woman. “Happy Birthday, sweetie!”
“Thank you!” sniffles my little one, turning her head, her politeness filling me with pride.
With a warm, appreciative smile, the woman shifts her attention again to Finn. “I have an idea. My husband and I are about to leave. We’re driving back to Santa Monica. Is that by any chance close to where you live?”
Still massaging her foot and grimacing, Kayla cuts in before Finn can respond. “Jesus, Phineas, this is not the time to start up a conversation with some lowlife octogenarians you don’t know! I’m in pain! Let’s go!”
Finn ignores the whiny bitch. His face brightens as he answers the woman’s question. “Yes! I live in Malibu.”
“Perfect! We can drop your fiancée off at St. John’s,” says the kindly, bespeckled husband.
St. John’s is one of LA’s top hospitals. Located near the beach, it’s not too far from either Kayla’s apartment or Finn’s house.
“Really?” asks a wide-eyed Finn.
“Not a problem.”
“I’ll help my fiancée to your car.”
“Stay put. We’ll talk to the people at the information center, explain the situation, and get permission to drive our pickup here. Then, we’ll take her with us.”
Kayla’s face burns red with rage. I swear if she could walk she would physically assault one of us.
“Are you fucking serious, Phineas? You’re going to leave me alone with two derelict strangers who could possibly abduct me? And make me travel in a truck?”
I bite down on my bottom lip to refrain from laughing and admire the thick skin of the lovely couple. They have a sense of humor! A half-hour later, despite a tantrum, Kayla is out of sight. Out of mind.
And Maddie is having the time of her life on the tractor ride. Make that . . . we are having the time of our lives. The three of us. Finn, Maddie, and me.
Minus Kayla, we go from one activity to another. Maddie can’t get enough of the petting zoo and begs her father for a baby goat. Then, we press our own cider. It’s a sensuous experience, the three of us pressing the stubborn pump together. Me behind Maddie, Finn behind me, his muscular arms wrapped around both of us, his buff body pressed against mine. His manhood thrusts against my backside with each pump of the cider press, his grunts filling my ears as he exerts himself to squeeze the juice out of the apples. As his warm breath dusts the back of my neck, a sweet juice of my own gathers between my legs. Soft, sexually charged moans clog my throat. It’s totally erotic.
Fifteen epic minutes later, we have a gallon of cider.
“That was hard, Daddy!” says Maddie.
“Yeah, it was hard,” replies Finn, shooting me a fiendish look.
I feel my cheeks flushing, my body heating. Tingling from head to toe. It was hard. Rock hard. I catch a glimpse of the bulge in his jeans. My eyes quickly jump off it and meet his. The devilish smirk on his face sends my temperature soaring.
“Who’s hungry?” he asks.
“Me!” shouts Maddie, raising her hand.
I’m ravenous too. The vigorous cider-making has worked up my appetite. In more ways than one. I’m hungering for this man. My delicious husband.
Holding our jug of fresh cider and the bag of apples, Finn offers to go back to the car to get our picnic stuff, including the gourmet lunch Rosita packed for us.
“Scarlet, why don’t you take Maddie to the gift store and then meet me in the picnic area?”
“Sure,” I say as he sets down the heavy bag and dips his hand into his jeans pocket. He hands me his platinum Visa.
“Maddie can pick out anything she wants.”
“Daddy, I want a baby goat!”
Finn laughs. “Sunshine, if you find one, you can have it.”
My heart warms; my skin prickles. He is simply the most wonderful father in the world.
His eyes pan to me. “And, Scarlet, you can have anything you want too.”
My gaze meets his. There’s only one thing I want.
My husband.
But with Kayla engaged to him, he’s still out of reach.
As he strides off, Maddie takes my hand. Her touch keeps my heart from sinking.
CHAPTER 39
The grassy picnic area near the entrance of the apple farm is filled with families and kids. While some have managed to snag one of the scattered planked tables, most like us are seated on blankets spread out on the ground.
Next to the jug of cider is a big wicker basket. We’ve devoured almost everything Rosita packed for us. The scrumptious Mexican lunch included fresh guacamole and chips, tacos de carnitas, and esquites, a tasty grilled corn salad. Plus the yummy apple donuts I bought at the village bakery.
The early afternoon weather is divine. The clean, fragrant air is crisp, and the sun shines brightly in the clear blue sky. Everything is picture postcard perfect. Nearby, two aging musicians are playing oldies but goodies. Harmonizing, the shaggy-haired men, one paunchy, the other wiry, strum their amped up guitars. Despite their years, they’re actually really good, and probably in their heyday in the early eighties, they were a popular duo that got lots of gigs. Children of all ages are frolicking on the grass to the classic songs, including Maddie. Leaving me alone with Finn.
After I stash everything in the picnic basket and move it out of the wa
y, Finn sprawls out on the plaid blanket, propped up on his elbows, his tattooed biceps flexing as he holds his head between his fists. Admiring his long lean, muscular body, I reposition myself so I’m lying next to him. Both of us have our eyes on barefooted Maddie, who’s uninhibitedly swirling and whirling to the rockabilly music. It’s hard to believe that this joyous, robust little girl almost died of an asthma attack a few weeks ago.
At the sight of her, joy surges inside me. “She’s such a free spirit,” I say, adjusting the sunglasses I’ve put on.
Finn doesn’t take his eyes off her either, but I can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, she is. Sometimes I wish her mother could see her.”
At his unexpected words, my breath hitches. “Maybe she can.”
“What do you mean?”
We turn to face each other. His eyes search mine, waiting for me to elaborate.
Keeping my gaze on him, I falter for words. “I mean, maybe her presence is here.”
“Like an angel?”
“Yes. In a spiritual way.”
His tone grows serious. “Do you believe in life after death, Scarlet?”
“Yes. I do.” How could I not? I’m a living example. I died and came back. I was given a second chance like none other. “What about you?”
“I’m not sure though I’d like to believe we come back in other forms.”
His response makes my skin bristle. “Do you think about your wife a lot?”
“All the time. I can’t help it. Maddie is the spitting image of her.” He pauses. “And not just physically. She inherited a lot of her mother’s personality. Her inquisitiveness, spunk, and courage.” A wistful smile lifts his lips. “They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Your wife sounds like she is . . . I mean, was an amazing woman.”
“Yes, she was.” His voice is melancholic, like he’s drifting back in time. “Perhaps, you know her.”
The back of my throat feels like it’s going to implode. I want to scream out I know her well. So well. I. Am. Her. Instead, with all the willpower I can muster, I cock my head and ask softly, innocently, “What do you mean?”
“She was a well-known reporter for Conquest Broadcasting. Skye Collins.”
“Skye Collins.” I repeat back my name slowly, reflectively. It’s the first time I’ve spoken it in ages. It feels so natural on my lips yet so alien. “Yes, I remember her. She died in a car accident, right?”
“Yes, a terrible accident. Her car went over Mulholland.” His jaw ticks, hesitance etched on his face. “The police believe she was murdered.”
I jolt at his words, then compose myself. “Oh my God! How horrible!” I act like this is news to me, but now I know somebody must have told him what he needed to believe. “Does Maddie know that?”
“No, not at all. I don’t want to frighten her. But that’s one of the reasons I’ve been super-protective of her. Whoever did this to my wife is still out there. My daughter’s life could be in danger.”
At this reminder, I inwardly shudder. Yet, despite my unease, my inquiring mind is at work. What exactly does Finn know about the accident? Perhaps, he can shed some light on what happened that fateful night. He’s in a talkative mood. The investigative reporter in me probes further. I need to know the truth. Dig deep, then dig deeper.
“Do the police have any clue as to who may have cost your wife her life?”
Finn shakes his head. “Believe it or not, the police initially suspected me.”
His words rattle me. A chill runs down my spine. There’s no way this beautiful, loving man could be a killer. “That’s insane! What made them think that?”
He chews on his lip. “Because she had a substantial life insurance policy. Plus, they suspected she was having an affair. Put two and two together and you’ve got a classic Criminal Justice story: Jealous husband kills cheating wife and inherits her money.”
A sick feeling washes over me. The thought of infidelity is unfathomable. “Do you think she was cheating on you?”
“The night of the accident she went out by herself. She was all dressed up in this hot little outfit . . . a black mini-dress along with some strappy high heels I’d never seen before. Not the kind of things she usually wore. Plus, she had on a ton of makeup and her hair was swept up. She told me she was working on a story. She was rushed and nervous.” He fidgets with his watch. “To be honest, I didn’t believe her.”
My heart clenches at this revelation and my stomach churns. I try hard to remember, but nothing comes to mind. Not even a glimmer of that night. Flustered, I sputter, “Why didn’t you believe her?”
“It wasn’t the first time. She did the same thing earlier in the week and was very secretive about the story she was working on. She said she couldn’t talk about it.”
What story? What was I working on? I painfully, frantically try to recall that night. Think, Skye, think! My mind does somersaults. Nothing. I have no recollection. Not even of the dress I was wearing. My forehead scrunches as I squeeze my eyes shut in a desperate search for answers. Rubbing my temples, all I see behind my eyelids is a whirl of darkness. Why can’t I remember?
“Are you okay?” Finn’s concerned voice brings me back to the moment. My eyes snap open.
The possibility of having an affair has unraveled me. Did I? An acid blend of guilt and sorrow surges inside me. I swallow past the burn in my throat, then nod, “Yes.”
“Scarlet, do you think I could be a cold-blooded murderer?”
“Of course not!” My voice is sharp. Definitive. I turn the tables. “Do you really think your wife was having an affair?”
He lowers his eyes, absent-mindedly picking at a tuft of grass. “It’s very possible and with just cause.”
Pausing, he tosses the green blades as my stomach clenches with dread. “What do you mean?”
“Though I loved her with all I had, I don’t think I was good enough for her. I was a struggling artist. Never could make enough money. She was a huge success; I was a huge failure. Maybe, she wanted someone who could give her more than I could.”
His words pain me. The ache in the pit of my stomach coils through me. “How can you say that? You’re an incredible man! An incredible father! She had to love you!”
His gaze meets mine again. “You act like you know her.”
I do! I am her! I love you, Finn, with all I have. My heart, my body, my soul. Every molecule of my being wants to shout out the reality of who I am. The words burn on my tongue, pleading to come out. Sucking in a lungful of air, I collect myself and swallow hard. My voice grows watery. “Finn, I understand her. I left my husband. But I never stopped loving him. Ever.”
“And I’ve never stopped loving my late wife. She still lives in my heart and always will.” A faint smile plays on his face. “You remind me a lot of her.”
“How?”
My heart pounds as he lowers my sunglasses to the blanket and looks straight into my eyes.
“Your eyes. There’s something about your eyes. The shape of them. Their intensity. The way you look at me.” He plucks a dandelion from the grass and dusts the flower under my chin. My hypersensitive spot. The spot which when touched sends fiery sparks to my core, lighting me up like a volcano. At the sensation of the saffron petals on my flesh, my neck arches and a soft moan escapes my lips.
“Stop,” I mutter, fighting my arousal.
He doesn’t. “It’s weird. My late wife had a very sensitive spot on her neck too.”
Memories of him licking this spot and sometimes testing a new paintbrush along it dance in my head. Goosebumps pop along my arms as a flare of desire shoots up my legs. I bite down on my trembling lips, hoping they won’t betray me. Taking no chances, I turn away.
“Look at me, Scarlet.” The love of my life’s voice is soft but assertive.
Slowly, I do as he asks and face him again. His heated gaze penetrates my depths.
He leans in closer to me, still sweeping the flower across my sensitive
flesh in little circles. Figure eights. His head lowers, his lips part, his breath warms mine, my eyelids lower, and then . . .
A song drifts into my ears. A song that will stay in my heart forever.
Elvis’s “Love Me Tender.” Love me true. The song the Vegas preacher serenaded us with after he married us. At the memory, a rush of emotion wells up inside me. Tears seep from my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Finn asks, brushing the tears away with the flower. They salt the glistening petals.
“This song . . . it reminds me of my husband.”
Does he remember? Silently, Finn stands up, then helps me to my feet. Facing each other, our hands laced, his soulful gaze burns a hole in my heart.
“It’s special to me too.”
While one of the musicians keeps singing, his baritone voice quite good, the other makes an announcement. “Okay, all you lovebirds, let’s show these youngsters how to really dance.”
One by one, couples of all ages flock to the grassy dance area, all wrapping themselves in each other in a slow, amorous dance. Neither Finn nor I move.
The nostalgic Elvis lyrics tug at my heartstrings. A breath away from Finn, my hands in his, every organ, every cell, every particle of my being quivers with need. I’m about to implode with love waiting for him to say something. Then, finally, he says softly, cupping his hands on my shoulders . . .
“Scarlet, dance with me.”
CHAPTER 40
I’ve been to heaven. Literally. At least for a few moments.
Now, I’m literally in heaven again. Heaven on earth.
A beautiful eternity.
As the old rockers croon the song that united us, Finn sways me in his brawny arms. Just like he did twelve years ago in that tacky chapel off the Vegas strip. His arms looped around my waist, mine around his neck, my head resting on his chest. The heat of his taut body radiates through his T-shirt as his heart beats rhythmically in my ear like a muted drum. Over a dozen couples are dancing, but I’m oblivious to all of them. In my fairy-tale world, there’s no one but the two of us.
Remember Me Page 18
