Chapter 2
TWO
Doyle might never forget the terror written on Tia’s face when he’d opened the door to the harbormaster’s office.
For two nights that image had filled his mind before he fell asleep. And of course, in his dreams, he marched inside, grabbed Sebold by his skinny throat and?—
And then he usually woke up, shaking, because the fury in his veins couldn’t live there. He’d worked so hard to expel it from his body...
It helped that Tia seemed unfazed by the incident. They’d spent the past three days installing the X-ray machine, and Dr. Julia had even used it to check Aliyah’s arm after a collision with Lionel on the soccer pitch.
Doyle had asked Keon to add a night guard to the building, and so far no issues, but he’d seen the look on Sebold’s face.
Trouble. Doyle had been lucky to only lose his watch.
Now he wished for said watch as he entered one of the classrooms, clearly already late. Taj sat with a few of the boys—Jaden, Elias, and Rohan, along with Kemar and Jamal, who were waging a brotherly thumb war.
Pictures hung on the walls—self-portraits done in what he’d call cubism style—along with a multiplication chart, an alphabet, including diphthongs, and the periodic table. So yes, a mishmash of ages. Maybe Tia was right about upping their education.
The kids seemed pretty smart, however. Jaden had walloped him in a game of chess, and they devoured the books in the library. So this was what a life without e-devices looked like.
Jaden grinned at him, wearing a clean white dress shirt and black pants. “Heya, Mr. D. You like us now?”
“I always liked you, JJ.” Doyle grabbed a chair and turned it around, leaning his arms on the back. The cute Parnell twins looked up at him from where they sat on the floor driving cars around a road mat. With their gap-toothed six-year-old smiles and bright eyes, he dared anyone not to fall in love with them.
The girls had come in too, Aliyah, with her arm in a sling, wearing a dress that she’d picked out from the clothing sent by his mother’s church. Cottage style, he thought they called it in the States—gingham with a ruffle. A few other girls also wore that style, a number in pants and blouses.
A hint of hope hung in the air. And he didn’t want to pop it, but...
“Okay, ladies and gents, it’s a big night. These people are... well, they care about Hope House. And we’re going to be on our best behavior just in case God nudges some of them to?—”
“Adopt us!” This from Lionel, who turned and pumped his fist.
“Yes.” Doyle let out a sigh, nodded. “I know you heard the rumors that a few of the donors have inquired about adoption. Do not ask them. And remember, you are already loved, by the staff here and by your Father in heaven. Maybe some of you will go to new homes. But others might stay, and that is exactly where you’re supposed to be. And to be fair, I’d miss you all terribly.”
He got a smile from Gabriella, who stood back, one arm clutched to her elbow, a wary expression in her eyes.
Tia’s words about sending some of the older teens to university pinged inside him. She might be exactly?—
“What if they want one of us and not the other?” Kemar asked, his arm around Jamal’s neck, his eyes hard on Doyle’s.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves?—”
“Ain’t nobody taking Jamal.” Kemar found his feet.
Doyle held up a hand. “Nobody is taking anyone. This is your choice too, Kemar. You say no and it’s done. But...” He drew in a breath. “You might consider that families matter?—”
“We have a family!” This from Jaden, who glanced at Kemar.
“Yes. But some of these people need a child like... well, like you, Elias, to love.”
Elias lifted a shoulder, looked away.
“Let’s just go to the party, and please—be on your best behavior, okay?” Doyle stood up and set the chair back at the table.
“Like you were down at the docks?” Again, Kemar, and Doyle frowned.
Kemar surveyed the group. “I heard that Mr. D went all beast mode against the S-7 crew. Grabbed the X-ray machine right out of their hands, bam! Took them down!” He’d stood up, made a few hand gestures.
Aw. Doyle held up a hand. “I did not take anyone down , Kemar. I...” All eyes were on him. “I... um, persuaded them to work with me.”
Shoot. Sort of a lie. Sort of not.
“That’s the way to do it. ‘ Persuade .’” Kemar finger quoted the words. He grinned at Doyle, held up his fist. “That’s savage, Mr. D. Don’t let nobody tell you what you can’t do. C’mon, Jamal. Let’s go eat something.”
Jamal scooted off the desk he sat on and followed Kemar out the door.
Taj came up to Doyle. “Sorry, man. I should have shut that down. I heard one of the guards talking to Kemar and Jaden a couple days ago. Clearly the story got bigger.”
Not much, but Doyle nodded. “It was more God’s providence than anything.”
“Heard you traded your sweet wrist candy to liberate Mr. X-ray. Tragic.”
“It’s okay, Taj.” He had liked the watch—his sister Austen had given it to him last Christmas. “I had to think of something.”
“Betcha Miss Tia was happy.” Taj winked, walked out the door.
Not that he could tell. Seemed like she wanted to wallop him. At least, five minutes after the look of terror.
He followed Taj out of the room into the glittery evening. A local band played soca music, a blend of soul and calypso, the energy smooth and infectious as it lifted around the courtyard. Twinkle lights hung along the upper-floor balustrades, and in the center of the yard, food tables held the best of Hope House’s kitchen—roti, flatbread filled with curried vegetables; callaloo, leaves filled with coconut milk and crab patties; baked pasta shells with spicy seasoned meat; and of course, conch fritters. And the nuns had crafted a batch of nonalcoholic rum punch.
Fire blazed in floating containers in the fountain, and guests strolled through the front gate, greeted by Andre and the female residence director, a twenty-something woman named Anita.
Most of the guests wore flip-flops or sandals, some in bright island colors, others in fancy summer dresses, most of them talking in their own groups. Doyle had the sense that many of them already knew each other before they walked in the doors.
His gaze found Tia and stuck there. She wore her dark brown hair down in a loose braid, the wind twining a few fallen tendrils through its fingers. Her white cottage-style dress showed off her tan, and she wore it off the shoulder, with puffy sleeves and hem ruffles that fell just above her toes, which poked out from the bottom.
One of the little girls came up and gave her a side hug. Tia grinned down at her, said something that made the little girl laugh.
He shouldn’t be so hard on her. Tia cared about their well-being. She simply did it in a different way.
By the time he made it downstairs, she stood by the hors d’oeuvres table with a tiny square plate, adding conch fritters and grilled shrimp on a skewer.
“Impressive spread,” he said.
“Thanks.” She picked up a napkin, blew out a breath. “Most of it was Rosa, but it was my idea to do the floating fire in the fountain. Did that once for an EmPowerPlay event.”
He chose a conch. “That’s right—you ran your family’s charitable organization.”
Her eyebrow quirked. “You know that?”
Now his eyebrow rose. “My brother is dating your sister.”
She popped the conch into her mouth, nodding, then choked, covering her mouth.
“Hey, you okay?” He stepped back, and she managed to swallow, took a drink.
“Yes.” She coughed again. “Sorry.”
“I have Heimlich skills, and I know how to use them.”
Was that a hint of a smile?
“We should mingle,” she said, setting down her plate at a discard table. “When does the program start?”
“Program?”
She stared at him, her eyes wide. “I thought you... Aren’t the kids going to sing?”
Oh... “Aw, you were serious?”
“Of course I was serious. I thought...” She turned away, shook her head. Turned back. “Okay. No problem. Maybe I could interview a couple of them.”
“Sure. I’ll ask Aliyah and... maybe Jamal.” Get them in front of the audience. And he had it on his list to meet Elise and Hunter Jameson, who’d asked him about adopting Jamal... and hopefully Kemar.
“I see Declan.” She raised her hand, and he turned.
Not only Declan Stone, who walked through the crowd wearing a linen shirt, dress pants, and loafers, but beside him, similarly dressed, although probably hiding an armory, Doyle’s brother Stein.
Stein had cut his dark-blond hair shorter, shaved, and wore a hint of a tan. No smile, though, so he hadn’t changed that much. Doyle followed Tia over to the pair.
Tia gave Declan a hug. “Thanks for bringing in so many potential donors.”
“Aw, Tia, you’re the brains behind this. I knew I could count on you.” He turned to Doyle. “And there’s my other director. Thanks for whipping this place into shape. Rumor in town is that you’re training up a coed soccer team to compete in the tri-island competition this fall.”
“We have some great kids, sir.” Doyle shook his hand, then nodded to his brother, who gestured to him to step away for a private chat. “How are you doing?”
“Me?” Stein asked. “I don’t have a BOLO out with my face on it from a local gang.”
Oh.
Stein’s mouth pinched. “If you needed backup, you should have called me.”
“I didn’t need—” Doyle sighed. “I had it under control.”
“Bro—”
“Stein. Listen. Small altercation. It’ll blow over.”
“Doyle. These S-7 guys are dangerous. Yes, they mostly live on the other side of the island, but they’ve been creeping over into Esperanza, and we think they’re trying to gain control of the port. And if they do that, they get control of the fishing, and then local businesses are affected and...” He ran a hand across his mouth. “Just watch your back. This Sebold character is... There are stories.”
“What kind of stories?”
The voice came from behind them, and even Stein jolted, turning.
Doyle had no words at the sight of his big sister Austen standing in the glow of the firelight. Her hair had grown since Boo’s wedding last winter, and brightened under the sun, the red in it sparkling against the flicker of light. With her deep green-blue eyes and slim build, she always reminded him a little of a mermaid, given her love of the sea.
Now, she wore a black sundress and sandals and held a rum punch. “Hey, bros. ’Sup?”
“Austen, what the—” Stein started.
Doyle leaned in for a hug.
She one-arm hugged him, then Stein. “Declan brought me for some tourist dive he’s putting together. They need a guide down to the Trident .”
“Which is?” Doyle said.
“A pirate ship that went down in the late seventeen hundreds. The thing is, they had just looted a Dutch ship, so apparently she was full of gold bullion and all sorts of riches.” She leaned in. “There’s lore that the gold is somewhere at the bottom of the sea.”
“And you’re going to find it?”
“No, I’m going to find myself with some good tips after I bring Declan’s guests sixty feet down and back up again, safely.” She lifted her glass. “Please tell me you’re both coming with me. I can’t remember the last time we went diving, Stein.”
“Me either.”
“I went with Doyle two years ago—remember when you came down to visit me?”
He did, and made a grim nod.
She sighed.
“I’ll do what I can, Tennie,” Doyle said. “I get pretty busy with the kids. Speaking of...” He’d spotted Kemar filling up a plate with patties. “Excuse me.” He walked over to the kid and Jamal, who held a handful of olives plucked from a bowl on the table.
He took the plate from Kemar’s hand.
“What?”
“You had dinner. This is for the guests.”
“C’mon—that’s not fair. I’m a guest.” He picked up the plate, grabbed a patty, and shoved it into his mouth.
The sauce spilled down his shirt.
“Nice, Kemar.” Doyle looked down at Jamal. He’d finished the last of his olives and wiped his hand on his pants.
Perfect. “Would you like to meet some nice people?” He held out his hand.
Jamal took it, glanced at Kemar.
“We’re having baked plantain and custard for dessert. I’ll make sure you get some.” Doyle addressed his words to Jamal, then looked at Kemar. “Please. We are trying to make a good impression here. Try to... just...” He drew in a breath. “Would you like to?—”
“No. I’m outta here.” Kemar turned to Jamal. “You with him or me?”
Jamal’s eyes widened.
“Give me five minutes, Kemar,” Doyle said. “Please.”
Kemar shrugged and walked away. Maybe he was a lost cause. Kemar was eight years older than Jamal. But Jamal still needed a father, a mother, a chance.
He recognized Elise and Hunter Jameson from the photos they’d sent—both from North Carolina. She was petite and pretty, dark hair down to her shoulders. He had darker skin, dark hair and eyes, a warm smile. They both wore pink shirts and white pants and held rum punch.
They talked with a couple—the woman shorter, blonde, fit, and possessing a hint of a trophy-wife vibe as she stood next to an older man, tall, white hair, tanned.
Doyle came up to the group. “Everybody having fun?”
“This is groovy music,” said the blonde, swaying a little.
“It’s called soca. It’s local. You must be Elise and Hunter.” He stuck his hand out to the couple, and they shook it.
“I’m Dr. Scott, and this is my wife, Heather,” said the older man as he crouched down to Jamal’s level. “And who is this?” He looked at Jamal.
“I’m Jamal.” He held out his hand, smiled.
“Glad to meet you, Jamal. I’m a dentist. You know what dentists do?”
“Sure. They fix teeph.”
Dr. Scott ruffled his hair, grinned. Stood up. “I heard that Declan got a new orphanage manager,” he said. “Last time we came, the place was in a little disarray.”
Heather put her hand to the side of her mouth. “Riffraff.”
Right. Doyle turned to Elise and Hunter. “Would you like a tour? Jamal and the other kids have painted murals in the chapel.”
“Really? I’d love to see them.” Elise held out her hand to Jamal.
He hesitated and Doyle grabbed his hand instead. “We’ll walk with you.”
Elise nodded, kept her smile, and he wove through the crowd.
Oh good, Anita and Aliyah were chatting with the Roses, a couple from Tennessee, and Taj had introduced Lionel to the Stuckeys, from Texas.
Maybe this would work. At least for a few of the kids.
They headed to the chapel. The place had been a wreck when Doyle arrived, the ceiling beams caved in, the floor chipped, the windows broken, the altar in shambles. He’d debated rebuilding it as a church, but the nuns had long ago rebuilt the monastery church, with the stained-glass windows and domed nave, and the priest from town came up to hold Mass every Sunday.
So this he’d made into an escape. When he’d restored the altar, he’d found a small room behind the gated area of the altar, down a stairway in the back, filled with wine. The priests’ secret wine room.
He’d repaired the stairs, then restored the altar, but he’d removed the crucifix and hung a cross. Then he’d installed leaded windows, created at a shop in town, and whitewashed the walls. Retiled the floor in stone. Added simple prayer pews. Started taking his morning coffee in here, reading his Bible, praying.
And now, murals from the children painted the walls—waves and shorelines dotted with palm trees, the dark volcano. In one rendition, it erupted, with yellow lava flowing down its slopes. Coconut trees and pictures of the sugar-cane plantation and a flowing sea with octopuses and dolphins and crabs and sharks... The chapel had come alive with color.
As he stepped inside the room, lit with flickering candles, the place felt nearly magical. A few other donors followed them in.
“These are amazing,” said Elise. “Which one is yours, Jamal?”
He pointed to a whale floating on the sea.
“That’s a big whale,” said Hunter.
“I can see them sometimes, from my window!” Jamal squeezed Doyle’s hand.
“Wow.” Elise crouched in front of him. “I’ve never seen a whale.”
Doyle leaned over. “My guess is that they’re dolphins.”
Elise looked up at him, her face alight. Back to Jamal. “What else can you see from your window?”
“The ocean. Big waves. Sometimes Kemar is outside, riding his motorbike.”
Kemar had a motorbike?
Doyle said nothing, and Jamal let go of his hand.
“Want to see my elephant?” He grabbed Elise’s hand.
“Absolutely.”
She walked away with Jamal, toward his depiction of the jungle. Okay, so Jamal had a wild imagination.
But Kemar, outside the orphanage?
It didn’t feel made up.
Doyle walked out of the chapel, passing a few of the other guests, then stood in the courtyard, scanning for Kemar.
His gaze landed on Tia. She stood holding a cup of rum punch, listening, nodding, something sparking in her beautiful eyes.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Eyes. Just eyes.
But she seemed mesmerized by the conversation. Or maybe just by the man.
Doyle didn’t know him. Blond, tall, built. A Hemsworth-style guy with round glasses, wearing a suitcoat and jeans, loafers.
And then she laughed, and a spear went through him.
C’mon, Doyle.
He turned away, not caring.
Not caring at all.
This night had all the earmarks of success. Unless... He turned away and headed up to the boys’ dorm, a fist in his gut.
* * *
This was not some sort of competition. So what that Doyle had hugged some beautiful, tanned—and had Tia mentioned beautiful?—donor with long blondish hair and reddish highlights. Not that she was looking! And of course he’d laughed with her and the man who’d walked in with Declan. Tia guessed that might be his former SEAL brother, given the dark and intense once-over he’d given the orphanage compound, and then the tight-lipped nod to Doyle’s story about the altercation at the harbor.
She had to stop thinking about the way Doyle had popped his head into the office and saved her.
From what, she didn’t want to guess, but she knew it in her bones.
Doyle Kingston had used his stupid, annoying charm, not to mention his fancy watch, to get her that X-ray machine and get her to safety, and she owed him.
She hated owing people.
More, she’d been stuck here for the better part of fifteen minutes talking with Ethan Pine, who, albeit handsome, had spun some crazy story about a sunken treasure, and all the while, her stupid gaze kept drifting over to Doyle, sweetly holding Jamal’s hand, then walking into the chapel and?—
Just. stop .
“So, if there’s a way I could spend some time in your library, I might be able to uncover the story.”
Aw. “Um. Remind me again—the story?”
Ethan took a sip of punch, then lowered his voice. “The one about the pirate.”
The pirate.
“I wanna hear about the pirate.”
She glanced over and spotted Jaden standing nearby, dressed in his best shirt, a splotch of curry on the front. Elias stood with him. “Tell us about the pirate.”
Ethan smiled. He walked over to the edge of the fountain, sat.
Please don’t get burned . She wanted to say it, but he moved away from the flame as Elias sat down.
Little Soraya sat on Elias’s lap, and his arms went around her. Sweet. Next to them sat Lani, so young when she’d come to the orphanage that she didn’t remember her parents. Doyle wasn’t wrong to find them homes, but they needed so much in the meantime. And what about those who didn’t find families? Didn’t get the happy ending that others got?
She stepped back, a chill brushing through her, something in the wind, and she looked up, hoping a rain gust wasn’t moving in. The air hung thick with the scent of the sea, and the glow of the flames rippled on the water. The soca players had taken a break, leaving just the murmur of conversation.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Ethan asked, grinning.
“Tell uth!” This from Lando, one of the seven-year-olds. He had gotten his cleft lip corrected a year ago, during a Mercy Ships docking.
“This is the tale of Raging Rodrigo and the Dutch merchantman.” He looked at Tia and winked.
She should find Doyle, see how it was going. Her gaze went to the chapel, but it seemed that it had emptied, the children joining the rest of the listeners.
“It was a night much like this, dark as a crow’s feather, and windy enough to sweep the devil off his course.”
Giggles, and even she smiled.
“Raging Rodrigo was a fearsome pirate, notorious across the Caribbean for his cunning and greed. It was the golden age of piracy, and he aimed to carve his name alongside the likes of Blackbeard and Calico Jack. But that night, his eyes were bigger than his belly, you might say. He set his sights on a Dutch ship, heavy-laden and slow from its long voyage, just entering the harbor...”
“And filled with gold, right?” This from Jaden.
“Yes. Gold and spices, enough to make any man’s heart quicken. Rodrigo took it all, but his greed was his undoing. He loaded his ship with the Dutchman’s gold, hoping to escape, but as soon as he sailed out of the harbor, the gale hit. He tried to make off with the gold in the chaos of the storm. His ship, the Trident, didn’t stand a chance against those rocks.” He pointed northwest, toward the cliffs. “Dashed against the rocks, it went down, into the depths.” He lowered his voice. “To Davy Jones’s locker.”
Tia laughed and looked across the crowd that had formed. Declan Stone stood with the woman Doyle had greeted. He leaned over, said something to her. She smiled.
So maybe... Aw, what was her problem? She’d been so very blind for years, maybe now she’d overcorrected. It didn't matter—Doyle was her coworker. Er, codirector, rather...
Aw, whatever. Dating a co director could only get complicated. She was over complicated, thank you .
“What happened to Rodrigo?” one of the donors, a blonde, asked Ethan.
“They say he washed overboard, swallowed by the sea. Never found his body, nor the gold. But”—he held up his hand—“someone did survive.”
A beat.
“Who?” Lionel, now, standing in the back. “Who lived?”
“The only soul who made it to shore was a young Dutch sailor, name of Henry van der Meer. The monks found him half dead on the beach come morning, clutching a piece of the wreck.”
“What about the gold?”
Tia looked up, tried to find the source of the question. Ethan did too. He looked around, then leaned back toward the children.
“Henry never spoke a word about the gold. Claimed he knew nothing. But folks around here? They say he found it and hid it away, fearing Rodrigo’s ghost and greedy eyes alike.”
“On the island?” Jaden whispered.
Tia rolled her eyes. Great. Just super. Now she’d have children sneaking out to find lost gold.
Ethan shrugged. “Many have looked. But this island’s got secrets as deep as the ocean.”
“I’d hide something in the crypt under the chapel. No one goes there,” Rohan said.
What crypt? She gave him a look, shook her head. They didn’t need treasure hunters, or even the kids trying to find a secret passageway under the monastery.
Rohan shrugged. “Just saying. I heard bootleggers used to hide whiskey in caskets.”
“That’s enough, Ro.”
He grinned at her.
“Yes, maybe it’s just waiting for someone brave enough to look for it,” said Ethan. “Or maybe it’s cursed, just like Rodrigo and his ill-fated plunder.”
“Nothing is cursed,” Tia said, giving him a look. “There’s no such thing as curses.”
Ethan pushed his glasses up his nose. “Curses or no, it’s a good pirate story. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll find it, eh, kids?”
A few clapped, and oh, see, that’s why he wanted to visit the library.
Ethan Pine was a treasure hunter.
The musicians came back, and the music revived, and in a minute she’d have to host the program, although the kids had already seemed to make friends with the adults. Gabriella and Fiona had started to dance with little Soraya, and a couple women joined in. Andre had found a female donor in her mid-fifties to dance with, and Anita danced with another donor, a man.
So, maybe... relax.
Ethan came back to her. “What do you say? Let me into the library?”
She pressed a hand against her growling stomach. “Why do you think you’ll find any information there?”
“Because our boy Henry was rescued by these very monks and lived here for ten years before he went back to Holland.” He raised an eyebrow. “My research tells me that the library has books dating all the way back to before the shipwreck. And Henry was a journaler.” He touched his chest. “Give a guy a break?”
She sighed. “Who are you again?”
He held out his hand. “Ethan Pine. Stellartech.”
“Wait. You design satellites.”
“Yes. And we launch them into orbit. Our grid is nearly worldwide. We’re setting up Declan Stone’s new communications system. And in the meantime—” He held out his hands. “It’s just for fun.”
“Okay. Sure. But you also have to let me give you a tour of our medical clinic so I can show you what we’re hoping to accomplish.”
“Absolutely.” He lifted his now-empty rum-punch glass.
“Declan mentioned your clinic.” This from a taller, older man, attached to a blonde woman. “Do you have any dentistry?”
“Not yet, but we’d love that. We just got an X-ray machine, and a few weeks ago, a portable ultrasound machine. The clinic in town was destroyed by the hurricane, so we’re the only place people can go for care. Our resident physician is a local, and she makes house calls and works out of our clinic. The ultrasound machine has been a game changer. I don’t know that we’ve met—” She held out her hand.
“Dr. Greg Scott, and my wife, Heather.” He gripped her hand. “We’re old friends of the family, back when the Stones had property in Miami.” He gestured to Declan’s house on the hill in the distance, all lit up and white. “He’s upgraded.” He laughed at his own joke.
She smiled. “Would you like to see the clinic?”
“Tomorrow, maybe. We’re jet-lagged.” He put his arm around his wife. “Besides, I promised my wife a view of the stars from the hot tub in our room.”
Tia raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Um...”
“Great party, though. Love the seafood.” He grabbed his wife’s hand, did a Travolta move to pull her onto the dance floor.
As Tia finished her drink she spotted movement on the second story.
Doyle, coming out of one of the boys’ rooms. Weird. She set her glass on a tray, then headed toward the stairs. She met him at the top of the staircase. “Everything okay?”
He looked drawn. “I think so. Jamal said that he saw Kemar with a motorbike outside the orphanage and... I don’t know. The way Kemar left earlier?—”
“He left?”
“Got mad at me. I told him to stop eating all the patties.”
She folded her arms against the wind. Why she’d worn this flimsy dress, she had no idea. It felt practically see-through. “We have plenty of food left. Some of the guests are already leaving.” As she spoke, the dentist and his wife walked out of the gate. Beyond the gate, a driver with a golf cart waited to ferry them back to Declan’s house.
Some of the others were staying in town, at a hotel Declan owned, the Stone Harbor.
“It’s okay, Tia. They’re here for a week. We’ll get our chance.”
And now the man read minds?
“We just have so much riding on this.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets, as if trying to force himself not to reach out to her, and nodded.
And for a second, she had to try not to step closer.
Aw , what was wrong with her? Now she needed a hug ?
“It’s too late to give our little talk.” She sighed.
“It’s fine. The kids met the right people. The donors saw the artwork, and they had a good time. And, most important, nothing tragic happened, right?”
She took a step away because he smelled good, too, and the firelight was picking up the blue-gold in his eyes. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Listen, glass-half-empty woman. We have an entire week to impress these people. I promise you that by the end of the week, we’ll be so far into the black you’ll be able to buy a fleet of X-ray machines.”
She laughed. “I don’t need a fleet.”
“You need a fleet. An armada.” His eyes twinkled.
Trouble. She headed back down the stairs. “I think I’ll go help clean up.”
“I’m drying.”
“What?”
“Oh, in our home growing up, whenever someone said it was time for dishes, someone always called dryer. No one liked washing.”
He lifted a hand to someone, and her gaze followed the gesture to the... Oh, the woman. She grinned up at him, warmth in her expression.
See. Calm. down. The guy was taken. And frankly, she’d been there, done that. Had no desire to be the second choice.
She headed over to the tables, where the nuns had already started packing up the food. So much callaloo left. Maybe that had been a bad choice. The patties had vanished, as had the conch fritters and the flatbread. But the cou-cou and flying fish had hardly been touched, along with the curried goat stew.
Even though she’d omitted the word goat from the placard.
Oh well.
“We can clean up, Miss Tia,” said Rosa, putting plastic over the rice-and-pea dish—rice, coconut milk, allspice, peppers, and pigeon peas.
“Sorry no one ate your delicious food.”
“Oh, honey, more for the children. And now I don’t have to cook tomorrow.” She grinned, her eyes shiny. “You go on now.”
Fine.
Doyle was walking the woman, along with Declan and Stein, out the front gate. The music played, and a few of the girls twirled on the dance floor. Some of the boys threw twigs into the fires, still alive in the fountain. That hadn’t been a terrible idea.
Still, they shouldn’t play with the fire—oil filled the floating containers, and it could splash on them?—
“Stop. Lionel, Jaden—” She headed over to the two. They ignored her, and she stepped up to them, hands out. “Stop!”
Jaden held a skewer from the olives and tried to flick it past her, into the flames. She reached out to grab it?—
Tripped.
Her hand splashed into the water, upset the container, and of course, it spilled onto the water. She bit back a scream as the oily flame touched the arm of her dress. She yanked her arm from the water.
Flame licked it and she shook it.
Oil and flame spat out from her arm, and now she did scream, dancing around. “Off, off!”
“Hold still!” A napkin landed on her burned sleeve, snuffed out the flames, but the heat sat on her skin. She reached up and ripped the napkin and charred sleeve away from her, yanking them down, pulling her arm free.
She stared at the burn, breathing hard. The sleeve had offered some protection, but the burn had already seared the skin, and her violence had skidded off the top layer of epidermis.
“You need water!”
She looked up just as Doyle grabbed a water pitcher and doused her entire arm, her body, and— perfect —now she stood in the courtyard in a see-through dress.
Sopping, dripping, and bearing a second-degree burn.
She met Doyle’s eyes.
He breathed hard, swallowed, glanced over her. “It’s not that bad.”
“Which part?” She turned to Jaden. “I told you to stop!”
He stood, his mouth tight, eyes filling.
Doyle set a hand on her shoulder. “I got this.”
“Great. Because I’m going to the medical clinic.”
“Wait—let me look at the burn?—”
But she ignored him, turned, and did a super job of not running, not crying, as she stalked to the clinic. Out the side gate and into the two-story building attached to the monastery. Stone walls, arched doors, and tile roof, it was once the refectory, with an expansive garden out back. Now, the main floor included the reception area and the exam and treatment rooms, with the upper rooms used as a birthing center, including the ultrasound suite, an X-ray room (thank you, Doyle), and a surgical suite for minor issues.
The small pharmacy sat in the back of the building on the main floor. She punched in the code and let herself in, her arm pulsing.
Maybe she’d overreacted. Fifteen-year-old boys hardly had impulse control. Still.
She flicked on a light, and it illuminated the hallway.
A crash and she stilled. What ? —
And maybe she should have turned around. Definitely should have turned around, maybe fled from the building. But her arm hurt, and the idea of someone stealing from them just ignited her. “Who’s there?” She started down the hallway.
Quiet.
“I know you’re there.”
“No. I’m here .” Someone’s hand clamped onto her mouth, jerked her up against his body, and a voice said. “Miss me?”