Sailing out of Darkness (Carolina Coast Book 4)

by Normandie Fischer

Once, Teo reached for her swinging hand, but she snatched it away. She didn’t want to be touched. She caught his puzzled frown and couldn’t even muster the energy to apologize.

  He suggested the beach and led the way to a bench at the sand’s edge. Sam leaned forward, bracing herself with her elbows on her knees.

  “He’ll be fine,” Teo said.

  She jerked up her head and glared. “How do you know? You can’t. No one knows. And for him to be in the hospital, it has to be very, very serious.”

  Teo flicked up sand with his cane. “Does he still mean that much to you?”

  “How can you ask? Yes, he means a lot. He always has.”

  “Not always. You didn’t even see him for more than half your life.”

  “What’s that got to do with it? I loved him when I was young, and I loved him when I was older. I don’t want him to hurt. Or die.”

  “Certainly not. Only, don’t we have something here, you and I, that can rise above your sympathy for him?”

  She wiped her palms down her blue-jeaned thighs once and then again. “I thought so.”

  “What do you mean, you thought so. You don’t know so?”

  “Right now?”

  He nodded.

  “To be honest,” she said, “no.”

  Teo stood up and sucked in a deep breath. “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do. Sit down, Teo. Please.”

  He looked back. Sam held out a hand. He didn’t take it, but he did sit.

  “Look. I’ve been thinking about this.” She waited, but he continued to stare at the sea. “The problem is, I can’t tell if we’ve imagined things, if this is all some fairy-tale romance I’ve dreamed up because I am such a mess. You’ve treated me like a princess, wined and dined me, taken me to Venice, given me gifts. You’ve been wonderful.”

  “I love you.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke. His cane rested between his knees, and he leaned both hands on it. “I know this is premature, that you’re not ready, but I need to tell you.”

  This was one of those moments when Rhea would have advised her to keep her mouth shut. Why couldn’t she? Words tumbled out, words that scared her as much as they obviously hurt Teo. “Would any of this—this thing between us—have happened if we hadn’t been here? If I’d just been running my shop, and you’d just been living in the States? It’s been so quick, you know?”

  “Not for me.”

  “For me, then.” She gazed at a gull plunging after something it imagined might be dinner, then watched it come up empty-billed and begin circling the area.

  “Are you going back?”

  The words startled her. She hadn’t actually formed the thought. “You knew I would someday.”

  “No. I thought we would go one day.”

  A sigh, a shrug, and she leaned forward on the bench, her hands clasping the edge of the seat. Sand had accumulated on the tops of her sneakers. She kicked up and shook first one foot and then the other.

  What could she say that would fit the mood and her purpose? After all, she’d begun to hope for the same thing. Sort of. Accidentally.

  How on earth had she become such a wimp that she let things happen to her, instead of making her own decisions? Where was the woman who’d opened two shops and made successes of them, even in a bad economy? The vibrant, go-to woman she’d imagined herself to be?

  Well, wimp-dom seemed to be glorified in her. Jack, Teo, Italy. Leap in the deep end, that was Samantha Ransom.

  Teo stood again and said quietly, “I think I’ll head back to my flat now. I’ve a lot of writing to do.”

  “Will I talk to you tomorrow?”

  “If I can find the time.”

  As she watched him limp away, the lump in her throat grew. If calling him back and unsaying her words would have helped, she’d be up and doing. But it wouldn’t, because then she’d just have to say them all over again.

  The night took a very long time to pass. Her eyes may have closed once or twice, but she remembered hours of watching green numbers flick forward very slowly. Around one, she decided she was a fool. She cared about Teo. Probably even loved him. Of course, she did.

  The clock advanced. One-thirty. Two. And then, suddenly, a knock sounded on her door.

  “Signora,” a voice called.

  “Sì?”

  “A man, he is calling on the telephone. From the United States. Does the Signora wish to take the call?”

  She flicked on the overhead light and pulled on her robe, then followed the tousled daughter of the house down the stairs. Her heart thudded as she imagined all sorts of horrid scenarios. Who could it be? Everyone had her cell number. Why hadn’t whoever this was used it to call her?

  When Daniel’s frantic voice said, “Mom, is that you?” panic blossomed.

  She swallowed it, tried to speak in a normal, non-croaky voice. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t you call my phone?”

  “It went to voicemail. Twice. Anyway, it’s Cindy, Mom. Cindy. They rushed her to the hospital. She’s having contractions. Big ones.”

  Sam calculated quickly. “She still has three months to go.”

  “Her doctor said it’s okay, she’ll be fine. They put her on a monitor, and they’ve given her stuff to stop everything.” Daniel’s voice sounded as if he didn’t believe a word of it.

  “Where is she? If she’s at Hopkins, you don’t have to worry. They’re the best.”

  “Can you come?”

  She paused.

  “Mom?”

  “Of course. I’ll see if I can get a flight out tomorrow. Everything will be okay.”

  “I appreciate it. Cindy will, too.”

  “Give her a big hug and tell her I’m on the way.” Sam hung up the receiver and slowly climbed back to her room. Well, she had her answer. She was going home.

  Teo’s attitude aped the stoic as he set about helping her book a flight. She’d called him early in the morning to give him the news, and he’d rallied, but she could feel the distance he’d carved out for himself.

  She hugged the Garibaldis. “Nonna says we light candles every week,” the daughter told her. “You will come back to visit, sì?”

  “I’ll try. You’ve been so good to me. Grazie, grazie.”

  Teo picked her up and drove her to the Milan airport in quasi silence, their random words mere pleasantries.

  “I forgot to call Martine,” she said as they passed an off ramp for a travel center. “Will you do that for me?”

  “I will.”

  “Tell her thank you, for everything?”

  “I’ll tell her to keep Belle ready.”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  “I’ll let her know.”

  He pulled into the parking area at the airport. “You don’t need to come in with me,” Sam said.

  “I want to.”

  He lifted out her bag and rolled it to the ticket counter. Boarding pass in hand, she followed him to the security line. She turned to say good-bye.

  “You’ll think about things, about us? And come back?” Only his eyes revealed emotion. If Sam hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he didn’t care.

  She nodded. “I’ll come back.”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll have to come fetch you.” His tone hardened on the words.

  A shiver shot through her. Sam studied the middle button on his leather coat, because that forceful note had jarred her back to the present. She didn’t know how to explain it: one minute she was walking in a fog, the next she was there, with him, remembering how he made her feel.

  He raised her chin and touched his lips to her cheek. She turned slightly so that their mouths met. His lips slipped into a feather kiss, increasing the pressure until she thought she’d swoon. How easily she swooned with him, so different, really, from the frantic heat of her response to Jack.

  A loudspeaker droned in Italian, interrupting the moment. “You’d better go,” Teo said.

  “I know.”

  “C
all me? Let me know where I can reach you?”

  “I will.”

  “Samantha...”

  She pressed a fingertip against his lips. “Don’t say anything.”

  He took her hand and brushed a kiss against her palm. “What I don’t say, I will think.”

  29

  Teo

  If I were a mockingbird, singing in a tree,

  I’d know the story’s endings, if we were meant to be.

  He left the sunroof open on the drive back to Reggio. Who cared if it rained? Or if he froze. Not he, considering.

  Considering what? He wasn’t sure, not about it or about much of anything. Oh, he’d been full of force and determination when he’d told Samantha he’d come get her if she didn’t return. But would he? Could he?

  She was an enigma, this woman he loved. She’d begun as one, certainly. As more than one. In Venice, she’d seemed to smooth out, her image and reality merging into flesh that felt real and a mind he understood.

  Ha.

  Either he was a fool or he was—all right, a fool. He couldn’t see any other options floating around.

  His foot pressed on the accelerator as the highway ahead cleared of traffic.

  Did his prayers avail anything?

  He wouldn’t go there. Fine, he’d keep up the conversations—no, the monologues—but a hint that they were being heard would be much appreciated.

  Was he asking too much?

  30

  Samantha

  I’ve skewed the F-stop on my lens,

  And darkness shutters all the light.

  Sam leaned over to kiss Cindy’s cheek. Her daughter-in-law looked so small and scared lying in that hospital bed, attached to the IV and monitor. Her straight dark hair was mussed and damp around her face.

  “How are you?” Sam asked.

  “Okay.” But Cindy began to cry as her fingers turned in Sam’s and held on tightly. “They say I’m going to have to stay in bed the whole three months!”

  Daniel pressed his lips to his wife’s forehead. “Shh, honey, you know it’ll be worth it. You’re my girl. You can do it.”

  Though Cindy nodded through her tears, she didn’t look convinced. Sam traced the girl’s knuckles with her thumb. “I remember when I was pregnant with the twins,” Sam said. “I was blimp-like and thought it was unreal. I knew two babies were in me, and I loved feeling them move, but when I had to rest so much of the time and still cope with all the responsibilities in my life, frankly, they often felt more like a huge, fat lump sticking out in front of me that was changing my life in not very pleasant ways.”

  “Mom.”

  “And then they were born.” Sam smiled at the memory. “Oh, my, what a difference holding them made. It was all worth it. Every stretch mark, every backache, every hard day was worth it, because they had given me the two most wonderful gifts of my life.”

  “I guess maybe—oh, I hope I’ll feel like that.” Cindy pulled her hand free to swipe at a stray tear.

  “You will.”

  “It’s just, I can’t finish the semester. I’ve only got a month and a half left, and I’ll lose it all.”

  Sam sat down on a free spot at Cindy’s hip and brushed the young woman’s hair off her forehead. “You won’t lose what you’ve learned. Sure, you’ll have to take the classes again, and that’s tough, but think how easy repeating them will be. Then, after the baby comes, you can finish your degree.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying. I’ll be working. It’ll be okay. A few extra semesters won’t matter.” He touched the round belly, smoothed his hands over it, and smiled down at Cindy. “They won’t, because we’ll be together, and we’ll have this little one.”

  Cindy sniffed. She looked at them with watery eyes and reached again for both their hands. “You guys make it seem possible.”

  “It is. I told you, it is,” Daniel said.

  When Cindy dozed off, Daniel suggested he and his mother grab a bite in the hospital cafeteria, where he insisted on paying. Sam thanked him as if this were an everyday occurrence and watched her barely twenty-two year old dole out funds with his head held high.

  “Thanks so much for coming, Mom.” Daniel set the cups and straws on the table. “I’m sorry you had to leave ahead of schedule. I know you were having fun.”

  “I was, but it was time to get back to real life. Your call just spurred me to action.”

  “Cindy’s mom said she’d come help later, but Cindy’s sister’s got the flu, and she’s miserable.” He wrinkled his brow. “I hope it’s not the really bad kind.”

  Sam lined up the sugar packets in a neat row and stacked them. “Cindy’s going to need a lot of help at home if she has to stay in bed. Have you thought about that?”

  “We’ll figure something out. We’ll have to.”

  He reminded her so much of the young Daniel, trying to keep from crying when one of the guys chucked an unexpected ball his way, doubling him over in pain. He’d bit his lip and shrugged when she’d asked if he were okay, but she’d seen the shock of it. Now he was an adult, scared and unwilling to let his mother see how badly.

  “You’re not going to have much time, not with work and school.”

  “I know, but I’ll figure it out. I have to.”

  Responding to his dejected look, she laid her hand on his. “Maybe I can help.”

  “How? Beaufort’s not exactly around the corner.”

  “Tootie seems to be doing a great job managing that shop, so why don’t I hang out here for a while?”

  His face paled. “The apartment’s only got one bedroom.”

  She couldn’t help the snort that was supposed to be a laugh. “Oh, not with you! I’ll rent a small place. Just until the baby’s born.”

  Daniel swallowed hard. She could almost hear him reigning in his emotions. “That…that would be great.”

  “It’ll be fun. I can come by for a few hours every day and still have time to visit Raleigh and Beaufort occasionally.”

  Her big, grown-up son choked on a sob and dashed renegade tears from his eyes. When he could talk, he said, “I love you, Mom. You’re the best.”

  Sam needed to find a motel where she could stay for a few days while she looked around for a cheap, furnished apartment. But first she had to call Teo. She hadn’t reactivated her stateside cell service, so she borrowed Daniel’s phone.

  “I wish I were there,” Teo said.

  Sam heard the wistful tone. “I do, too.”

  “How long do you think you’ll stay?”

  “Cindy’s going to need help at least until the baby comes.”

  “That’s three months.”

  “I know.”

  The line went silent. Sam waited. Finally, Teo came back with a very quiet, “I’ll miss you.”

  Still, she didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

  “You might be interested to know that my cleaning lady’s sister is now helping that little boy’s family, the child we took to the hospital.”

  “Oh, really? How nice for all of them.”

  “She needed the work.”

  “And they can afford her?”

  “Yes.”

  Or someone named Teo paid her wage. That would be just like him.

  “Is he doing well?”

  “Healing nicely.”

  “Tell him I asked about him.”

  “I will.”

  Good-byes came next, because what else could she say? They’d exhausted all the news.

  As she stood under florescent lights in a sterile American hospital, disconnected even from Teo’s voice, the Italian Riviera seemed a world away. This place, this was her new reality, for however long it took. With all the changes in the past year, she knew that things left behind soon became mirages, barely seen, hardly remembered except as glimpses in a mirror.

  The closeness she’d felt with Teo had grown too quickly. Their relationship was like the fairy story she’d called it—very pleasant, sure, but you knew all along it was fiction
.

  31

  Jack

  Twisted visions hide the truth,

  And spill their messes upside down.

  Jack angled his bristly cheek away when India leaned in for a kiss. Her smile slipped sideways. Like the drooping bird-of-paradise petal on the windowsill.

  Odd how it looked just like India’s expression this morning. He considered the resemblance while she fussed. Had she picked the gift because she recognized something in herself? Like a skinny person might buy a greyhound and a jowly fellow, a bulldog?

  She touched his shoulder, smoothed his hair back from his forehead, let her fingers caress his cheek. He stoically submitted to her caress but remained silent.

  “Hurry and get well enough, darling, so you can come home, where I’ll take good care of you.” She promised to return in the morning and then left.

  Man, he hurt. He almost considered praying, he hurt so much. This chelation stuff was supposed to clean him out, but it only seemed to be concentrating the aches. Or maybe the poison was so strong in him, it was taking gallons of anti-poison to get rid of it all. The doctor in charge here in Durham wanted him treated as an inpatient instead of giving him the stuff orally on an outpatient basis. That must mean he was sicker than most. Yep. He’d go with that diagnosis.

  Some incompetent painter had swished streaks of yellowish bile over a puke-gray on the ceiling. Jack’s insides felt like those colors, ready to heave or cramp or burn, sometimes all at the same time. He’d have fired that fool painter faster than the guy could spit if he’d been contracting the job.

  Maybe he was going to die in this bed, staring at bad paint and a television that only pulled in six channels. Either he was going to die, or he would go crazy from the toxins, or he’d end up a cripple. Then what? He’d lose his business and be stuck on disability, living check to check and barely able to scrape enough together for meals at the end of the month.

  He made two fists until he could feel what was left of his nails cutting into flesh. It refocused the pain momentarily.