Chapter 9 #3
He’d finished his gelato. “She told me that she loved the ocean. I don’t know why, but I put it in my head right then that I wanted a boat.”
“Sad that she never saw the yacht. It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. I used to keep it at a dock near my place north of Miami. But I’ve been spending more and more time in Mariposa, so I transferred her down to the island, taking her back and forth when I can.”
“You have a place in Miami? How many places do you have?”
“Four,” he said. “I do a lot of travel, and it’s nice to have my own landing pad.
I have a condo in Minneapolis, a lake house out near Duck Lake, where your family lives, the house in Boca—north of Miami—and of course, the estate down in Mariposa.
And a number of rental units around the US, like in Key West and New York City. ”
He said it casually, like it was normal to own so many locations, but maybe for him, it was. Maybe it was simply about getting used to a different normal. Could she get used to this normal? Right now, it felt simple. Easy.
But tonight she was in the middle of a fairy tale.
“When we get back to Miami, I’ll check on the search for your boat,” he said. “Someone’s got to have seen it.”
“I hope so. Unlike you, I have only one residence—and that’s it.” She finished off her gelato. “But I do get around in it. So, in a way, I also have many homes.”
“I like how you think.” He got up to throw their cups in a nearby trash bin. “So, did you always want to be a diver?” He helped her out of her chair and took her hand again.
“Oh, no. That was after my parents took us on a trip to SeaWorld. Of course, I grew up around lakes in Minnesota, but there’s something about diving in the ocean. They let me take a beginner diving class at the resort in the pool, and I absolutely fell in love with it. It’s like flying underwater.”
“Yes,” he said. “I agree—it’s very freeing. Although I had to get over the idea of claustrophobia the first time I did it.” He’d laced his fingers through hers, intimate, his hand encompassing and strong.
“Oh, that’s normal. One of the biggest things we tell people is that you can breathe, so stay calm.”
“I just didn’t love the idea of not having any options. I only have that air, and if it fails me, then I die.”
“Yeah, that’s not a great way to look at it.” She laughed. “But you’re right, you have to learn to trust your equipment.” She looked at him. “You don’t seem a man easily frightened. Is there anything you’re afraid of?”
He considered her a moment, and her question seemed to play in his eyes.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I fear getting it wrong, and getting into a mess that I can’t untangle myself from.
” He stopped and turned to her, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I fear other people getting hurt because I made a bad decision.”
She wanted to kiss him again, especially when his gaze roamed her face. She could get lost in those eyes, in the sense of him holding her.
“I fear freezing. Or running. Mostly because I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“Like when Boo went missing and then Grandma collapsed in the kitchen. I thought Grandma was going to die and that it would be all my fault. Thankfully, my brother Conrad came into the house, saw what had happened, and ran to get Grandfather. But I was just paralyzed—useless—and I hated that about myself.”
He was watching her, and she looked away, started to walk again. But he said nothing, his presence easy, quiet. Freeing.
“I ran after Margo died. I couldn’t stay in the Keys.
Everything there reminded me of her. Her brother Mo has a memorial for her every year—a big party to celebrate her life.
” She shook her head. “I’ve never gone. I think that’s why Steinbeck came down to Key West—because he knew that the anniversary of her death was coming up and he really wanted me to go. ”
“Really wanted you to go?”
“He thinks I need to face it and forgive myself, but it’s too easy to go back to that moment when I’m watching her fast ascend and I’m paralyzed. I can’t bear the memory of it, so I just don’t go.”
He made a sound like understanding, a deep hum in his chest that somehow rumbled into her too.
“What’s funny is that I always tell people when they’re shark diving to not panic, to stay still. Don’t run, because it only alerts the shark to follow. I froze with Grandma, but with Margo, I ran. And now I just... I run.”
“And the shark is always on your tail.”
She looked up, nodded.
He stopped and took her other hand. “Whatever business problem I have, I have two choices. I can either ignore it or I can face it. Facing it helps me figure out how to fix it.”
“I don’t know how to fix grief.” She sighed. “And I didn’t know that grief would feel so much like fear.”
She felt a little naked standing there, but he just smiled, softness in his gaze.
“I guess the truth is that I don’t like being scared. And I don’t like being helpless either.”
He studied her and then gave a nod. “Join the rest of the world.”
Right.
And then he shrugged. “We’re not so different.”
Oh, she only wished that were true. Because at any moment, the clock would strike midnight and the fairytale would end.
They walked along a shaded corridor and stopped at the entrance to a restaurant. Tables crowded with patrons flowed from the interior into the outdoor area, covered in umbrellas and lit by candlelight. Timba music played from inside.
But Austen’s gaze landed on a woman seated at a table at the edge of the crowd. She sat alone, nursing a glass of something dark, and wore a faraway look, as if she were out to sea.
That’s when it clicked. “Is that Captain Teresa?” He looked, and she jerked him back. “Don’t look!”
“My mistake. I’ll use the eyes on the back of my head.”
She pulled him away from the restaurant, toward a pillar, and moved him around it, putting her back to the pillar. “Okay, stand here, pretend we’re talking, but now look.”
His mouth hitched up as he placed his hand over her shoulder against the pillar, as if he was going to lean in to kiss her, but at the last moment angled his face so he could see the woman. “That’s her,” he said, his mouth tightening into a grim line.
“Which means your boat is here.”
“Hmm.” His gaze returned to hers. “I think we need to go back to the hotel. I suddenly have a bad feeling about all of this.”
“Do you think she followed us?”
“I don’t know how she could have, but it does feel suspicious that she’s here. And I don’t like it.” He sighed. “I hate to say good night, but I need to make some calls.” He leaned away from her, took her hand again. “I think it’s time to get off this island.”
“Are we in danger?”
“I don’t know yet. My gut says yes.” Then he leveled his gaze at her, put his hand on her cheek. “But I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Austen. No matter what.”
She met his eyes, barely visible in the darkness, the nearness of him sweeping over her.
And then she couldn’t stop herself. She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
She thought he might keep it short, given the impending danger, but he tightened his hold around her—his arms around her shoulders, hers circling his waist—and kissed her back.
He was safety and strength and decisiveness, and somehow, in his embrace, she was braver.
Not at all wanting to run.
An hour later, in her hotel room, she opened the windows to the small balcony on the third floor.
The harbor glittered against the starlight in the distance, a few ships’ lights waxing out against the dark water.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about Steinbeck.
But mostly, she thought about Declan, asleep in the adjoining room.
It was too soon to say that she was in love with him, but she could— was falling for this man.
Falling for his charm, his kindness, his ability to stay calm and make decisions—the sense of confidence that he exuded.
A partner. The problem with having a partner was that they could let you down and make decisions that broke your heart.
She changed into a pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt she’d picked up at the market. The wind collected the summer night smells and stirred them into her bedroom. With them came a verse, a memory from her grandmother. “The Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the one who trusts in him.”
Maybe Austen didn’t have to have all the answers. She just needed to trust. Trust God, and maybe trust Declan.
She climbed into the king-size four-poster bed, watched the fan stir the air, and sank into sleep.
A movement startled her, and she rose a second before a hand clamped over her mouth. She jerked and nearly screamed?—
“Shh. It’s me—Phoenix. We gotta move.”
The light flicked on. Sure enough, the woman who had leaped off the edge of a boat stood beside the bed, dressed in all black, her dark hair tousled, probably from the sea, her gray-green eyes fierce. “Now. There are people coming for you.”
“What?” Austen scrambled up, reaching for her clothes.
“No time. Get your shoes on.”
“Seriously? I’m leaving in my pajamas?” But maybe it didn’t matter, because Phoenix had lit a fire under her with her tone.
“Where’s Steinbeck?” The night pressed in around her windows, and she guessed it was well into the wee hours.
“He’s fine. He’s safe. Come on.” Phoenix opened the door and looked out, gesturing for her to follow.
“What about Declan? Are you going to get him?”
“No,” Phoenix said, grabbing her hand as they edged out into the hall. “He’s already gone.”