Caribbean Paradise, Miracle Family

by Julie Danvers

  But Theo was right about one thing. She needed to get to know him better. He was clearly making a concerted effort to build a life for himself on St. Victoria. If she intended to give him a fair chance, then she’d need to see him more often.

  Maybe dinner wasn’t such a bad idea.

  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” she said.

  “I should hope not. Who knows? It might even be fun.”

  Dammit. His hazel eyes positively twinkled when he smiled like that. Despite herself, she smiled back, even as her mind continued to resonate with phrases like off-limits and totally inappropriate and probably not even interested, anyway. She told herself to listen to the wisdom of those words.

  “What time?” she heard herself say.

  * * *

  Four days later found Theo trying, desperately and unsuccessfully, to remove dog hair from his suit trousers.

  He didn’t have a dog, but he did have an unexpected guest. When he’d leased the house, a large, energetic dust mop that he suspected was a Labrador-poodle mix had been making itself comfortable on the porch. The real estate agent had explained that the Caribbean had a serious problem with strays, and had offered to call animal control. But Theo had a soft spot for dogs, and this one was friendly. And there was something about the dog’s thin frame that touched his heart. The dog needed to get its strength back, just like him. He’d taken to feeding it each morning, although he wouldn’t let it into the house. As much as Theo was determined to make his life on St. Victoria work, he didn’t want the dog to get too attached if he had to leave.

  The dog had no such reservations. His enthusiastic greetings had left Theo’s one good pair of trousers covered with fur.

  Theo wanted to look presentable for his dinner with Willow, but so far, his attempts were not going well. His once wavy hair still stuck out at odd angles around his head. Except, of course, for the persistent spray that seemed to insist on falling directly over his forehead and into his eyes, no matter what he tried to do with it.

  He told himself that there was no reason to be so nervous. It wasn’t as though he was getting ready for a date. He was glad he’d clarified that with Willow from the start, although he still cringed at the awkward way his words had come out.

  She’d lost no time in making certain that their dinner was not a date. He knew she’d been wise to do so, and he’d kicked himself for suggesting dinner in the first place. Why not lunch? Why not a coffee after work? Either of those would have accomplished his goal of getting to know Willow better, thereby bringing him that much closer to getting to know Maisie.

  But his words—What are the odds that you’ll have dinner with me?—had spilled out before he’d had time to think of something that might sound less like a date.

  His feelings, especially his unspoken attraction to Willow, had betrayed him. He couldn’t think of a worse idea than becoming romantically involved with Willow. His relationship with Maisie was completely at her discretion. After years of not knowing if he’d ever see his daughter, he couldn’t allow anything to put his chance to get to know her at risk. Which meant that he had to ignore what he might feel for Willow. He’d already spent the first years of his daughter’s life without her. If he and Willow were involved, and things became complicated, he couldn’t risk losing Maisie again.

  He wondered if things could have been different if he and Willow had met under more normal circumstances. He couldn’t deny that he was physically attracted to Willow. He was entranced by the way the waves of her dark brown hair fell against the curve of her neck. And she held herself with such presence: though she had a petite frame, she projected a quiet authority that he imagined she’d developed over her years as a nurse. But it was her warmth, more than anything, that had led him to feel more attracted to her than to anyone he’d met in years. Granted, he’d gone on a very scant handful of dates since his illness was diagnosed four years ago. But even before the diagnosis, he couldn’t remember being so struck by any woman’s warmth and gentleness. Even back in her kitchen, when she’d been in the middle of explaining that she wasn’t certain if he could see his own daughter, she’d expressed such genuine compassion. There was so much he wanted to know about Willow. He wanted to learn where that compassion came from, and who else in her life she might turn that compassion toward. From what he could tell so far, she shared it with everyone.

  He was afraid that the more he got to know Willow, the more certain he would be that he wanted her in his life. And no matter how much he wanted her, Maisie was the priority. Even if Willow felt something for him—and he didn’t think she did—but even if she was as interested in him as he was in her, he was certain she would agree that their daughter had to come first.

  He caught a glance of himself in the mirror as he threw on a crisp, white shirt and did up the buttons. He’d always been on the muscular side, but now his body looked positively gaunt, the missing muscle all too evident after years of treatment. Pale skin, uncontrollable hair. It felt like a cancer survivor’s body, but it didn’t feel like his body.

  He wished it didn’t feel as though there was so much riding on this dinner. He reminded himself, for what felt like the millionth time, that this wasn’t a date. And yet the nervous feelings he had were so similar to the worries he typically had before a date. What if he couldn’t think of anything to say? What if she hated the restaurant he’d picked? What if she decided she hated him, and he never got to know Maisie?

  Stop panicking, he told himself firmly. You got through cancer. You can get through this.

  * * *

  He still hadn’t returned his doctor’s message from when he’d first arrived on the island. He’d been too nervous thinking about his upcoming dinner with Willow to spare a thought for checking in with his doctor. And he wanted some time to enjoy being in remission, before getting into a routine with his follow-up appointments. He needed to live his life. Which, at this moment, meant screwing up his courage and heading to the French Indian fusion restaurant in Williamtown where he was meeting Willow.

  He took a deep breath and stepped out onto the veranda. The dog padded toward Theo with hopeful eyes, and leaned against his legs.

  “I suppose a little more fur can’t make a difference now,” said Theo, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Wish me luck, old fellow.”

  In response, the dog thumped his tail twice on the porch. Theo decided to interpret this as a good sign. He was going to need all the help he could get.

  * * *

  Willow couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so nervous. Her mouth was dry, and as she sat across from Theo and tried desperately to think of something to say, it was all she could do to keep her hands from shaking.

  Relax, it’s not a date, she tried to tell herself. But somehow, it had the feeling of one.

  Theo looked perfectly comfortable in his white, button-down shirt, while she’d simply thrown on an old sundress with a light shawl. But even on an un-date, as she referred to it in her mind, it was horribly awkward trying to think of something to say. She couldn’t imagine how they would begin to feel comfortable with each other.

  It didn’t help that his hair, once again, fell just over his forehead. Just try not to look at his hair, and control yourself, she thought. It might have been a while since she’d had an evening out with another adult, but she had a feeling running her fingers through Theo’s tousled hair in the middle of a crowded restaurant wouldn’t do anything to reduce the awkwardness she felt.

  When she’d first met Theo, his smile had caught her attention. Later, she’d found that she was quite taken with his eyes. But now, as she watched him peruse the menu, she realized that his hands were quite slender. Steady, careful hands.

  Dammit, she thought. Was there anything about him that wasn’t attractive?

  She racked her brain for something besides his appearance to talk about. Work. Ask him how work is going.<
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  It was difficult, because she felt as though her mouth was full of cotton, but she managed to squeak out, “How are you adjusting to the clinic?”

  He seized upon the question with an eagerness that made Willow suspect that he’d probably been searching for something to talk about, as well.

  “It’s fascinating. Although I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to working with celebrity patients. I have to admit that it’s not exactly the clientele I’d always imagined working with.”

  “Well, you’ve made quite an impression on Roni Santiago. Providing health care to the rich and famous might just be your calling.”

  “Perhaps. I suppose life is full of surprises. Speaking of which...sorry, again, for taking a job at your workplace. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t worry. It was a surprise at first, but I should have anticipated it. There aren’t too many options for oncologists on one small island.”

  He seemed to relax a bit at her words. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I think I might really like working at the Island Clinic. With so many unexpected changes, it hasn’t always been easy to move forward with my career.”

  She realized that he was referring to the cancer. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy to hold down a job consistently while you were ill.”

  “It wasn’t. It’s why I’ve mostly been in research positions, even though my passion is working directly with patients. One of the best things about the Island Clinic is that I get to do some clinical work on the side.”

  “You couldn’t find something like that in England?”

  “Oh, I could. But then, you see, I learned that my daughter had moved here. Finding her was the priority.”

  His jaw had that determined set to it again. Willow felt a twinge of guilt at having treated him with such suspicion at first. She didn’t trust him yet. But she found that she wanted to.

  “Is it hard to live so far from the rest of your family?” he asked.

  “There’s no other family. My parents died when I was very young, so I was raised by my grandmother, who passed away just after Maisie was born.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right.”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Now there’s a phrase I know all too well. Along with ‘It’s fine’ and ‘Don’t worry about it.’ That’s my set of typical stock phrases for when someone asks a big question without realizing it, and then tries to apologize.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  “Speaking as a cancer patient, it happens all the time. Sometimes all people can say is ‘I’m so sorry,’ and then all you can say back is ‘It’s all right.’”

  She thought about that for a moment. Her response to Theo’s question had been automatic. He was right; it was what she almost always said when people found out about her parents. And she was certain it was what he usually said when people learned he’d had cancer.

  “I suppose I’ve been an orphan for so long that it just doesn’t feel unusual to me,” she said. “My parents died in a car accident before I was even a year old. Growing up, I did often wonder what they were like. I was lucky that I at least had Gran to tell me about them. But then, I always felt lucky to have Gran.”

  “So she was there to fill their shoes.”

  “In a way. She didn’t replace them. She’d have been the first to admit that she never could have taken their place. But she made me feel loved enough that our tiny family felt much bigger than it actually was.”

  She hadn’t expected to open up this much to Theo. But she found that she enjoyed talking to him. No one had asked much about her family, or about Gran in particular, for years.

  She couldn’t help thinking about the parallels of her own life to Maisie’s. Her daughter had only one other person in the world to rely on, just as Willow had, growing up. As a child, Willow had missed having the presence, the advice, of a father at times. As a mother, she often wished she had the ability to give Maisie a large family. In addition to enriching Maisie’s life, it would have brought Willow peace of mind to know that Maisie would have other family if anything happened to Willow. She wondered if Maisie would begin to wish for more family as she grew older, just as Willow had.

  Willow was sure Theo couldn’t have known that her thoughts would turn in this direction when he’d asked about her family.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Do you have much family back in England?”

  “Four siblings, one of them a twin sister.” He launched into a detailed description of the advantages and drawbacks of having a large family. In addition to his siblings, he seemed to have an extensive network of aunts, uncles and cousins who were all very involved in one another’s lives. As they spoke, Willow realized that she was growing more comfortable. It had been so long since she’d spent an evening with another adult that she’d forgotten it could actually be fun.

  But just as she was starting to relax and enjoy herself, a crash came from a few tables away. An older man was at the center of the commotion, surrounded by concerned waitstaff and restaurant patrons. Willow heard a faint cry of “Is anyone a doctor?”

  “Looks like we’re on call tonight,” Theo said.

  They approached the man, who was heavyset and seemed to be in his late sixties. His skin was beet-red, and his breathing was shallow and rapid. His forehead was hot to the touch, and his heart rate was elevated. He was conscious, but his words weren’t making sense.

  “He could be having a stroke,” Theo muttered into her ear. A woman—presumably the man’s wife—fluttered frantically about him in tears. “Does he have any neurological issues?” he asked her.

  Willow turned to a waiter. “Get me a large pitcher of ice water,” she said, ignoring Theo’s quizzical look.

  The man was wearing a heavy wool sweater, far too thick for the weather. “Help me get this off him,” she said to Theo.

  “It was a birthday present,” the man’s wife said through her tears. “He wanted to wear it even though I told him it was far too hot.”

  “Has he had any heavy exertion today?” Willow asked.

  “We played tennis for a few hours, then I gave him the sweater and we came down here for a few drinks.”

  “How much alcohol has he had?”

  “Two, maybe three drinks.”

  Willow nodded. “He’s overheated. Don’t worry—heatstroke can make people crash hard, but recovery is quick if we act fast.” In fact, the man had already begun to come around as she rubbed his neck and forehead with ice.

  “Drink this,” she told him, lifting his head so he could sip a glass of cold water. “And no more alcohol for you today. Overexertion plus alcohol is a recipe for heatstroke.”

  Someone had called the paramedics, and the man was already sitting up on his own by the time they arrived on the scene.

  “Will he be all right?” his wife asked.

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” said Willow. “But he should go to the hospital to get checked out.”

  The woman thanked them profusely and proceeded to berate her husband. “I told you to take it easy,” she scolded as she packed herself into the back of the ambulance with him.

  “I’m impressed,” Theo said. “I never thought of something as simple as heatstroke. I was thinking it was some sort of neurological condition. But then, I tend to overthink things.”

  “As a good researcher should,” she said, smiling. “I’ve seen heatstroke a hundred times since moving to the island. Tourists aren’t prepared for the heat of the Caribbean and don’t realize how quickly they can overexert themselves.”

  As they headed back to their cold entrees, a waiter approached and let them know the cost of their meal had been compensated, to thank them for their help with the medical emergency. Willow thanked the waiter as Theo poked at his cold food.

&n
bsp; “It’s very kind of them, but I’m afraid this evening is a bit of a bust, isn’t it?” said Theo. “Why don’t we take a walk outside?”

  They headed out to the boardwalk along the beach, where the sun was just beginning to set, illuminating the beach in tones of red and gold.

  “I know this might sound strange, but I’m almost grateful for the medical emergency,” Willow said. “It was nice to feel competent for a moment, after getting so nervous about our dinner together.” She was careful to avoid the word date, even though, somehow, it was starting to feel like one.

  “You were nervous? I would never have guessed.”

  She laughed. “Come on, you must have noticed how hard it was for me to talk at first.”

  “Maybe I didn’t notice because I was nervous, too.”

  They stopped walking, and he gazed at her intently. She felt an unexpected wave of heat wash over her, a flush that had nothing to do with the warmth of the Caribbean air.

  It’s time to go home, she thought to herself. Time to wrap that shawl around your shoulders like a respectable woman, and go home to take care of your child.

  But then Theo traced her arm, lightly, and her shawl slipped even lower on her shoulders. And somehow, Willow found herself not moving to put it back where it belonged. He was standing close to her, and she took in just how very tall he was. Her head fit just under his chin.

  “How’s your arm?” he said. For a moment she didn’t know what he meant, but then she realized he was referring to when the reporter had grabbed her.

  “Oh,” she said distractedly. “It’s fine. It’s nothing...it barely left a mark.”

  The determined set to his jaw was starting to become familiar. She felt one of his arms circle her, protectively, and she didn’t resist as he pulled her close against his chest.