Coming Home

by Lydia Michaels

  The air was thick with humidity. Evelyn’s hair curled against her neck in tight little sweaty coils. Luckily, the limo was cooled and there were bottles of water chilled and waiting for them inside.

  “Where are we going?” she asked once they were in the limo.

  “You’ll see. Here, I want you to put this on.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the black sash from her robe. Fun things always followed whenever Lucian blindfolded her, so she scooted close as he tied the sash over her hair.

  “Can you see?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.”

  The drive took only a few minutes. They were soon exiting the vehicle, and she was again breathing the liquid air of Florida. Lucian carefully guided her steps. Their path changed from pavement to planks.

  “I’m going to let go of you for a second. Stay still.”

  She heard the tinkling of bells and people talking in the distance. Then there was a strange licking sound. They were by water. She breathed deep, tasting the salt air on her lips. “When can I open my eyes?”

  “Not yet. Take my hand and step carefully.”

  She had the sense of falling for a split second, but then her feet found purchase. Lucian led her up a somewhat steep and shaky slope, and her body teetered.

  Another man greeted them, and Lucian made introductions. She couldn’t see whomever they were talking to, but she imagined him with tanned, sun-kissed skin. Moisture gathered in a slick tear that pooled between her breasts, and the sun heated her shoulders. She could sense each bit of cool shade they walked through.

  The man eventually excused himself, and Lucian’s arms wrapped around her. “I can smell it,” she whispered, as the weight of his chin rested on her shoulder.

  His voice was gravelly, relaxed, and she imagined him smiling. “What does it smell like?”

  Breathing deep, she said, “Nothing I’ve ever smelled before. It’s wide-open, massive. The air tastes crisp, briny.”

  His lips pressed to the sensitive curve of her neck. “So does your skin. Tell me what it sounds like.”

  Her ears tuned out the distant chatter and soft rocking of boats. They were definitely on a boat, she decided, which was also a new experience. “It sounds . . . like secrets, deep, dark, and whispered.”

  His fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, tracing soft swirls over the skin of her belly. He was arousing her with the slightest caress. His breath alone, as it echoed over the shell of her ear, was erotic. The balmy heat was moist, misting salt water over her sun-heated cheeks. She sighed and tilted her head back.

  Strong fingers guided her hands to a railing and held them in place. She jumped at the roar of an engine. She amended her image of a boat to a big boat. “Do you own this boat?”

  “I must insist you use the proper nautical terms so as not to offend my manhood. We’re on a yacht and yes, it’s mine.”

  “Another toy,” she commented.

  He nudged her backside with his hips. “I love my toys.”

  The yacht moved and she swayed, her fingers tightening over the rail. “How much further?”

  “Only a few minutes longer. Hold on tight.”

  Her body lurched into his broad form, but she didn’t panic as badly as she did on the jet. So long as she was in his arms she was fine. Her hair whipped back as the yacht picked up speed. Moisture tickled her lips, and the temperate breeze went from stagnant to refreshing. Excitement, bottled up inside of her, came rushing out in bubbles of laughter. She was speeding over the ocean.

  It was too overwhelming to speak. When the yacht slowed, there was more rocking, jostling, and eventually the motor was cut. A thrill of anticipation spiked up in her belly, tickling her smile with uncontainable joy.

  “We’re here,” he whispered, lifting her arms from the rail.

  Various voices called to Lucian, but he didn’t stop to talk to anyone for more than a second or two as she was blindly ushered away. His hand repetitively squeezed her fingers and she could tell he was excited too. They walked down a slope and onto another planked surface. It was quieter there than where they’d departed from.

  Soft ripples made delicate splashing sounds. Waves sloshed at a soothing pace. She wanted to borrow their rhythm. It was hypnotic. Her and Lucian’s footsteps clanked along the planked path.

  Lucian stopped and she halted. “Give me your foot.” He removed her sandal. “And the other one. Now step.”

  She gasped as her feet sunk into soft sand. It was hot. Why hadn’t she expected that? Chills raced up her spine, puckering her skin in strange places. Her entire body responded to the unique sensation beneath her feet. Her toes wiggled and she laughed.

  “It’s so soft.”

  “Come on. There’s more.”

  Treading through sand was different than walking over a smooth surface. Her leg muscles tingled with each step. He tugged her arm, cutting off the slack of his lead, and she abruptly stopped.

  “Ready?”

  She grinned. She could hear how close they were, feel the open breeze. “Ready.”

  He took both her hands in his. Her fingers squeezed and brushed over the coarse plaster of his casted wrist. He pulled her forward and she sucked in a deep breath.

  Cool water lapped at her toes, engulfing her bare feet, then licked at her ankles. He removed her blindfold, and light seeped through her lashes, causing a white glow. “Open your eyes, Evelyn.”

  Her lashes flickered. It was . . . incredible. There was no world on the other side of the horizon, only impressive sea and endless sky. The sun hung like a burning piece of fruit in the clouds. She’d never seen anything so impressive.

  “Oh, Lucian . . .” She shook her head. “It’s magnificent.”

  “Not nearly as magnificent as your expression right now.”

  They stood staring at the ocean for a long while. Eventually, they stripped off their clothes and waded into the surf. Lucian assured her their privacy was secure, as the crew had already departed the island on a smaller craft.

  White, salty kisses marked her skin. Tiny urchins raced under the glass surface. Lucian could only wade out so far because of his cast, but he laughed as she dove under the waves. Euphoria surrounded her as much as the weightless water. She was a mermaid, falling through the silky waves and piercing the surface, her body buoyant and free.

  Once she was sufficiently waterlogged, they lounged in the sand, the sun drying their skin. Imprints of broken shells and grit beveled her thighs. She leaned into Lucian and kissed him long and slow.

  “What was that for?” he asked.

  “Of all the things you’ve ever given me, I think this is my favorite.”

  He smiled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. As he looked out to the horizon, his eyes crinkled and she knew he was happy. So was she.

  ***

  The house was amazing. White cotton-covered windows waved gossamer sails rather than screens, and doors were never closed. They spent their days walking the private beach, making love wherever they pleased, and napping in hammocks under the shade of the tall palm trees. Lucian carved a coconut and she sipped the milk right from the fuzzy shell. It was a magical escape, better than the pages of any book read to her before. This fantasy was reality.

  On the morning it rained, they remained tucked away in the bungalow, wrapped in their own slice of heaven. She recollected tales of Robinson Crusoe and whispered remembered adventures to Lucian as the soft rain pelted the open sills. His fingers never left her.

  Languid days folded into unforgettable nights. The world was far away, and the untouchable sanctuary they’d found was catalogued in her mind as the sweetest fairy tale she’d ever known.

  One evening, after making love in the surf as the sun bowed brilliantly behind the horizon, they rested on the cool sand, wrapped only in a blanket of stars. U
ncountable white stars winked through the inky canopy of night, and she considered never returning to the city again.

  “We could live here?” she whispered in his ear, her fingers slowly combing through his sea-scented hair.

  “We could,” he agreed on a contented sigh.

  “Would you miss the city?”

  “So long as I was with you, there isn’t much I could miss.”

  She smiled softly. “Sweet talker.”

  They curled closer as the breeze chilled their skin. Soft ripples of the never-ending waves whispered over the sand beneath the hushed motion of the palms.

  “Lucian?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s going to happen with your deal? With Parker?”

  He sighed and she waited as his eyes took in the fathomless sky. “When life announces its fleeting presence, things are sometimes thrown into perspective.” His hand coasted over her shoulder, its weight a comforting presence. “I spoke to Parker the day after we found Pearl. He said, when you lost it after I fell, he realized the way you loved me would never equal anything he could make you feel for him. It was never about force with us, Evelyn. It was always about surrender.

  “There’s an old saying, that if you love something, you must let it go. He said he could never let you go completely, but he cares for you enough to let you be happy.”

  “You make me happy,” she whispered.

  His lips pressed into her temple. “I’m glad, because, for as much as I love you, I don’t believe I could ever let you go. My only choice is to keep you happy for the rest of your life so you never want to leave.”

  She remembered that horrible afternoon when she’d thought she lost it all. “He made me go with you. He said you needed me and I was so afraid, but he made me go.”

  “As brave as I pretend to be, Evelyn, I’m glad he did. Seeing you in that house before all hell broke loose, knowing your mother was gone, I was terrified. All I’ve ever known is how to lead. I’ve always protected those I loved, because my father never did. But when I fell, I was helpless. My last thought was you. Being helpless to protect you is my greatest fear. I can only protect you when you’re safely by my side. Not having you there is the worst torture I’ve ever known.

  “In my mind, when he insisted you go to me, he surrendered. Men are made of pride. That wasn’t easy for him, but it was the right thing to do and in doing so, he earned my respect. That’s something Parker Hughes never had before.”

  “But what about what he’s doing with the company you want?”

  He chuckled. “I have a hundred companies, Evelyn. There’s only one of you. He can have them all if that’s what it takes.”

  She sat up, her hair pooling over his chest as she looked into his eyes. “But you put a year into that deal.”

  “And it will be a great boon to your friend. He’ll get the security he’s been searching for, the confidence he never had, and I’ll get the rest of my life with you. Sometimes victory is won by surrendering something great. And in surrender, we unburden ourselves so clarity can come through. We’re all just men hiding behind curtains and impressive toys, Evelyn. He can have whatever trinket validates his struggles, but he’ll never have your heart. That’s mine. I’ll surrender everything, except for you.”

  She kissed him. Her heart overflowed with emotions there were no words for. As the chill of night subsided and their skin heated, he carried her to the bungalow and they made slow, sweet love. His proclamation that he’d sacrifice all in order to hold on to her heart was the most selfless vow she’d ever been given.

  Every doubt she’d ever harbored, every condition she’d ever entertained, it all fell away as he showed her how much she truly meant to him. She had no riches to give, no companies to sacrifice or grand gestures to measure how much he meant to her. All she ever had, the one coveted part of her soul she protected above all else, was her heart. But it no longer felt like hers. She’d given it to him long ago and she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he would protect it above all else. Always.

  They stayed on the island for seven days and seven nights. By the time they left they were both a warm shade of brown, toasted and freckled in a way she’d never been before. Her body and mind was so relaxed, the anxiety she suffered on the flight there was absent as she boarded the plane.

  “I’m sad to leave,” she said staring out at the runway just before takeoff.

  “We can come back whenever you’d like.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  He laughed. “Tomorrow I suspect you’ll be in love with our next destination.”

  Her mouth pulled into a smile. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Their second flight was much longer than the first. When they exited the plane, she had no idea where they were. It was chilly and the air smelled of fresh rain and wood; gone was the briny trace of ocean. When their new chauffeur greeted them, Evelyn couldn’t understand him. He spoke to her several times before she realized he was speaking a very heavily accented English, interspersed with expressions she’d never heard before.

  “I can barely understand him,” she whispered to Lucian.

  “You’ll get used to it. All Irishmen have thick accents, but your ears will adjust.”

  “We’re in Ireland?”

  “What better place to show you the breadth and scope of the mountains? Welcome to Carlingford.”

  Ireland was stunning. There were so many novel shades of green. The locals were lovely. They made new friends every night, laughing over pints at various local pubs. She laughed harder than she ever remembered laughing in her life. Lucian was at ease and she adored this freer side of him.

  There was never time to be hung over, because before she knew it she was drinking again. Beer did funny things to her. It made her fearless.

  One evening they were at a small pub, and the locals took turns singing. None were particularly good, but it was all in fun, until Lucian insisted she give it a shot, that is.

  “I am not going up there.”

  “Have you ever sung in public?” he asked, brow arched in challenge.

  “I’ve never sung, period.”

  “Well, this entire trip is about trying new things. What are you waiting for?”

  “I don’t know any songs.”

  “That’s not true,” he argued.

  She honestly didn’t know any songs well enough to sing. “Uh, yeah, it is.”

  He shook his head and stood, a devilish gleam in his eye. He approached the three-man band and whispered something to them. The men discussed and nodded in unison.

  Lucian went to the microphone and said, “I’m here with a beautiful woman tonight, but she’s being a little shy. You see, I promised her I’d help her experience everything she never tried before. It just so happens she’s never sung. She knows a song, but may need some help. Who’s up to helping her?”

  The rowdy patrons cheered and lifted their mugs in the air. There was no hiding from their enthusiastic calls. Slowly she rose, shooting him a glare that promised retribution, and went to the stage. When Lucian tried to step down, she dug her fingernails into his arm. “Oh, no. You’re not leaving me.”

  The man on the guitar began to play. She panicked when she didn’t recognize the song. She knew she wouldn’t!

  Suddenly a man with a strange drum joined, and twinges of familiar rhythms flickered in her brain. She recognized it . . . sort of.

  “Shall we start you off, lass?” the guitar player shouted. She nodded and he grinned. When he sang, it only took a moment for her to place the song. “Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip.”

  Her mind prickled with recognition as her shoulders began to bob slowly to the cheery beat. It was her favorite television show! She jumped in, belting out the line about the mighty sailing ma
te and the brave skipper from that three hour tour.

  The audience echoed back the chorus. “A three-hour tour!”

  The music picked up and so did her energy. It was a rush, singing like that. The next verse was sung with much more verve. By the time they were calling out the characters, everyone was shouting along.

  She grabbed the microphone and tugged on Lucian. “The millionaire . . .”

  He tugged her back, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he stared into her. “And his wife . . .”

  Heat pooled in her belly, full of excitement, at that look of promise in his gaze. A smile tugged at her lips, and her voice fell away as she stood suspended in his arms, paralyzed by his potent stare. The patrons finished the drunken rendition on their own. Slowly, he leaned down to press his warm lips to hers, and everyone else fell away.

  As the last verse was sung, she was dipped back and kissed properly, in front of the entire crowd. “Here on Gilligan’s Isle!” They burst into applause and she blushed furiously.

  After that night, Lucian never made mention of wives or marriage or anything else pertaining to wedding rings and the like. She was surprisingly disappointed, but still having the time of her life.

  On their last night in Ireland, she watched the sun set over the mountains of Carlingford. Blushing clouds settled over the peaks as the sky faded from vibrant shades of burnt sienna to deep violet. She’d miss the simplicity of Ireland, but was anxious to see where Lucian would take her next.

  As she suspected, life and work called on Lucian even as oceans separated him from the city of Folsom. He’d started using their quiet mornings to tend to business that couldn’t wait for their return. She didn’t mind, because he also set her up with an iPad that had an interesting program that let her videoconference with Jason.

  Their online lessons were not as long, but just enough to keep her mind sharp. Jason would go over some examples, holding a notepad in front of the screen, and then she would complete her assignment in the workbook she packed. Lucian looked over her work and was impressed with how quickly she was learning.