Chapter 31
After questioning everyone in the resort, they found Carol in the infirmary. The so-called doctor was nowhere in sight, so Jones knocked on her door and let himself in with an, “It’s me,” by way of introduction.
Carol lay in the lone bed, the sheet pulled over her head.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied, subdued and standoffish.
“You disappeared,” he said, with more than a hint of accusation.
“It seemed like everything was well-handled.”
“You’re in the infirmary,” he pointed out.
“I was a little queasy. It’s fine. You can go.”
“You want me to go?” he asked.
She paused. It was a tiny pause, but it gave him hope. “Yes.”
Was there a question in there or was it his imagination. “Yes?”
“Um…yes.”
“So you’re going back home, back to America, and we’re never going to talk,” he clarified.
Again with the pause. “I think it’s probably for the best.”
“Why?”
She shrugged, the sheet on her head hunching up and down. “Obviously it’s been a blip.”
Jones stared at her, or at the sheet-clad version of her. “Carol, can you take the sheet off? I feel like we’re wrapping up an episode of Scooby Doo here.”
“No,” she said, now sounding like the Gum Lady of his first acquaintance. And that was how Jones knew she was hiding something from him. He went forward and perched on the bed. She shrank back, holding the sheet against her like a security blanket. He reached around her and tugged it off with a swift yank, the breath rushing out of him in a gasp when he caught sight of her face, bright red, blistered, and swollen to three times its usual size.
“Oh, Carol,” he breathed.
“I told you I don’t do well with the sun,” she said, tears leaking slowly down her swollen cheeks. “And now I’m going to freckle.”
“I like freckles,” he said. Now that he understood the problem, he felt mellow, almost cheerful. Despite her apparent misery, he thought things might be okay. Or, he realized with sudden understanding, maybe it was simply being with Carol that made him feel that way, a key turning in a lock, a feeling of rightness, like somehow everything was as it should be, regardless of outside forces. He picked up the bottle of aloe gel beside the bed, squirted a dollop into his palm, and began using his finger to smooth over her nose and forehead.
“You would,” Carol said sullenly. “This is horrible. I’m hideous.”
“I’m sorry you’re miserable, but you are not hideous.”
She tried to quirk an eyebrow at him, but her face was too puffy to allow it.
“Okay, it’s not great,” he amended. “But it’s temporary, and I’m a pretty big fan of the before. And after.”
Her lashes fluttered, causing her red-rimmed eyes to water. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. He smiled. She tried to in return, but her face was too taut. His look turned sympathetic. “This island has not been kind to you.”
“It hasn’t been all bad,” she said. Her fingers inched forward, resting on his leg. He picked up her hand and kissed it, holding it gently in his.
“Yeah?”
She nodded.
“Tell me the good parts,” he commanded.
“I ate some good food. I met some nice people.”
“Nice, ugh,” he wrinkled his nose.
“I was talking about Ribs,” she amended.
“Don’t forget Victoria,” he urged.
“Would that I could,” she said, and he laughed.
“Anyone else?”
“The staff needs some tweaking, but there’s this one guy…”
“I hope it’s not Manny because he’s fired,” Jones inserted.
She blinked. “Already? But I haven’t even turned in my report.”
“He was part of the smuggling ring,” Jones said. “Which brings me back to you. How are you doing? We had an intense morning.”
“I live for intense,” she said sincerely. Jones believed her. No one who looked at her would guess how adventurous she was, at heart. Just like no one looking at him would guess the same, from his farm boy image.
“I know you do,” he said. “I have something for you.”
“You do?” she asked, sounding pleased and surprised.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little stack of papers. Carol watched while he unfolded them and smoothed the crinkles with his hand.
“Once upon a time there was this man who hadn’t a clue.” He handed her the first paper, the drawing he made when he was trying to strategize, the word “Gun?” along with a banana and mango.
“He moved to a tropical island and met a woman.” He handed Carol the drawing he’d done of her from the first day they met, her hair matted with gum. He wasn’t a gifted artist, but he was adequate enough to make a fair representation of her. Except he kept getting her expression wrong. No matter how hard he’d tried to make her angry, she kept turning out adorable, eyes oversized, nose tipped cartoonishly, lips overly full. It was basically a caricature, and it made her smile.
“He couldn’t understand all the feelings she made him feel.” The next picture was a collection of emojis he’d drawn.
“But the feeling he kept coming back to was sameness, rightness, belonging .” The next picture was a key in a lock.
“She traveled the whole world.” He gave her a picture of the globe. “And the man thought maybe she was looking for the same thing he was looking for.” He gave her a picture of a home. Unknown to her, he’d drawn his grandparents’ farmhouse in Nebraska. He hadn’t had time to draw more pictures; he’d have to wing it from here.
“Here’s the deal, Carol.”
“Not the deal again, David,” she said, but she was smiling.
“I’m finally going to get it out.” He took a bracing breath. “I think I love you, and I think you love me, too. I know it’s crazy, but think of it as another adventure, one we’ll plunge into together. As for the boyfriend…” He couldn’t seem to keep the tension out of his tone at the mention of the other man, the worst fly in the ointment, as far as he was concerned.
“Brody and I broke up.”
His heart kicked and turned over. “You did?”
She nodded, still staring at the handful of pictures he’d given her.
“When?”
“Days ago, when I realized I was feeling things for you, things I shouldn’t be feeling. It was confusing, and I called him to tell him. We decided it would be better if we took a break.”
“A break doesn’t sound very permanent,” Jones said.
“My head was muddled. I needed to think. Everything has been so crazy—the gang, the storm, the rescue, the swim. We’re basically strangers. I barely know you. Moving here, quitting my job, giving up everything for a man I just met would be the most insane thing I could possibly think of.”
His heart sank until she closed her hand around the pictures and offered him a smile, as much as she was able.
“Which is why I think it absolutely must be done.”
It was what he wanted, and yet he was so surprised when she agreed that he thought he heard her wrong. “What?”
“You gave me stories,” she said, clutching them over her heart with both hands.
He blinked, confused by the sudden topic change. “Yes. You deserve all the stories, Carol, all the adventure.” His hand stroked her hair. “All the love.”
Her lashes fluttered, flicking away the tears. “Yes, David. Yes to everything, yes to you, yes to a new adventure, yes to moving here. Yes to an unknown future in an unknown place. Just yes, so much yes.” She clutched his shirt and pulled him to her, wincing when their lips touched. Jones moved lower, bestowing a kiss on her pale neck, seemingly the only part of her that wasn’t crispy.
“You’re going to make me eat disgusting things, aren’t you?” he asked, lips moving against her throat.
“Every day,” she replied. “What are the chances the hotel will hire me as its new manager? Because I’m kind of unemployed after this.”
“I think I have some sway,” he said, pulling back. He pushed some hairs away from her aloe-slicked cheeks. “This is going to be good.”
“I think so,” she agreed.
“It’s crazy how normal this feels,” he mused.
“Crazy how crazy it’s not,” she agreed. Her finger brushed his nose. “By the way, I do love your freckles. And your abs are better than Ribs’s. Don’t tell him.”
“I’ll let him continue to linger in his delusions. He needs them,” Jones said, fully aware that Ribs was eavesdropping on them.
Outside the door Ribs smiled and pushed away from the wall, glad Jones could get his happily ever after. It gave him hope. Maybe someday…
His phone buzzed with a text. Jordan had copied him on a picture of Nash she sent to Shimmer, a bowl of spaghetti upended on top of his head. He could just make out her hand in the edge of the picture and realized he was staring at it instead of the messy baby.
He shook his head and shoved the phone in his pocket, forcing his thoughts to work and all he needed to do when he returned home. Work was life, work was safe. It wouldn’t always be enough, but for now it was all he had.
Maybe someday, he thought, and headed toward home.
T hank you for reading The Guest and The Guard, the twelfth book in the Spies Like Us series.