ON SUNDAY NIGHT Edward took Monica to dinner at the Harborage in Key Largo. He picked the best restaurant in town, one on the fourth floor of a luxury resort hotel. An important event deserved the finest venue. He hadn’t yet purchased a ring, but he and Monica could pick one out later. He would enjoy having her come to Miami, where the choices would be great and the glittering town would smile upon their future.
Despite the sling still on her arm and the remaining puffiness in her cheek and lip, Monica looked lovely in a coral dress with a matching sweater. The dress fit her perfectly and showed off the magnificent curves that were all hers, whether she was in a dress or a police uniform.
He ordered a bottle of wine, and they enjoyed a glass while looking out over the water on a beautiful, star-streaked night. Edward told her that he had come to terms with losing his father, and she said she might be ready to make amends with her brother. And they talked of Emilio and Rosa and Edward’s sisters. It seemed the perfect night to suggest a joining of their families.
Edward poured a second glass of wine when their entrées arrived. He smiled to himself when he admitted he had a rare attack of nerves preceding what he was just about to do. This was the first time he had ever considered proposing marriage. He had no doubts about his decision, and accepted the small tremors of fear were all part of the excitement of the moment. What man’s hands hadn’t shaken when he was so close to taking the hand of the woman he loved?
“This is just the right night, the right place,” he said. “And you are the right woman.”
She smiled. “What are you talking about?”
“I love you, Monica. I think I loved you even when I was grieving, even when you and I differed on how my father might have died.”
“It was so difficult for me to tell you that the investigation could go no further. I wanted to help you, to make your father’s death easier to handle. I’m sorry how it all unfolded, that we found out the way that we did.”
“It’s over. It’s time to move forward. I’ve donated most of my dad’s possessions. And made up my mind about the marina. As of tomorrow, it’s officially closed. I’ll list the property with a Realtor soon.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” she asked him.
“The marina was my father’s dream, not mine.”
“Of course. You have to do what you think is right.”
“You are what’s right,” he said. “You are my dream. You and Emilio and a life together.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, smiled at her. “Will you marry me, Monica? I want you and Emilio to live with me in Miami. Rosa, too, of course. We can buy a house and she’ll live with us or have a place of her own.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s the future I want, Monica, and I hope it’s the future you want also.”
She swallowed, stared down at their joined hands. When she looked up after a full minute, her eyes were misty. Her voice cracked as she said, “My feelings for you are as strong, Edward. I do love you, and I wish I could say yes.”
He felt his mouth quirk up at the corner, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t. “You wish?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MONICA DIDN’T TRUST herself to speak. Edward’s words were the ones she had longed to hear since that fateful day she’d met him. In the weeks that followed, she had sympathized with him, admired his determination, appreciated all his kindnesses and fallen in love with a man who loved her for who she was. And now he had asked her to marry him and share his dream. Only his dream was not the one she had committed to when her father died.
She withdrew her hand from his. She knew her future was not the one he hoped for. She could not share his dream or his vision for their life. The look she gave him was one of regret and sorrow and acceptance. “Edward...” she began. “I can’t marry you and live in Miami.”
His eyes widened, making it much easier to see the hurt, the shock in their deep blue depths. “Why not? You just said you love me.”
“I do, so much, but I have to stay here in Sweet Pine.”
“Is it your job?” he asked. “Because I understand that. Obviously, I support your wanting to stay in the police force. I know how hard you’ve worked. There must be openings in Miami.”
“I do love my job,” she said. “Being a police officer is important to me. I like helping people, coming to their assistance. I’d probably find the same satisfaction in Miami, though the job would involve some getting used to after working in Sweet Pine Key.”
“Then what is it? Is it your house? It’s a loving home, but any place you lived would be like that.” He blinked hard. “I will do whatever I can to make you happy, Monica.”
Once again she was disappointing him, once again her heart was breaking. “I have come to love my little house on Lantana Lane, but that’s not the issue. I can’t leave Sweet Pine Key because of a promise I made to my father.”
He leaned across the table, his gaze searching hers, trying to understand. “What promise?”
“Before my father died, my mother was quite ill. Papa nursed her back to health, and she recovered. But she was never the confident woman she’d been before. When she came to America, she was brave and full of hope for a life here. After the illness she was frightened and unsure. For a long time, she didn’t go out. She stayed home and looked after all of us. Eventually, she became content again, even happy, but she was happy within the context of the life she knew. Her life here is simple, her love for her family strong.
“She likes it in the Keys. Her roots are deep. I would never want to unsettle or undo what she and my father built for us, our family. It would feel, I don’t know, disrespectful somehow. Mama isn’t interested in living anywhere else, especially a big city.”
Edward rubbed his nape, shook his head slowly. “I had no idea,” he said. “I’ve always moved around quite a lot. Started over for good when the judge took me in. I guess I just didn’t think... What you’re telling me is that moving to Miami would be a difficult adjustment for her.”
“Yes, I’m telling you that, but it’s even more than what you think. Mama thinks Miguel would still be with us if he hadn’t gone to Miami, gotten in with the wrong crowd. I understand if you don’t believe that, but Mama does. She sees Sweet Pine as a haven.”
“But we can find a community in Miami where she’d feel comfortable and fit in.”
Monica frowned. How to make him understand that the promise she made to her father was a covenant, a solemn pledge to the man who counted on her to hold them all together. She had already failed Papa with Miguel. She would not fail him by taking Rosa from her home, her family, her security.
“Edward, I am so sorry.” Those words did not express her sadness, her grief. “As Papa lay dying, he made me promise to take care of Mama, to keep her safe, to understand her and make sure she was happy in Sweet Pine with her family. I pledged I would always do that.”
“But we could come back often to see Lucy and Horatio.”
He said the words as if he knew they were only a salve to the confusion between them. They were not a cure. Monica’s honor was at stake here, and her word was important. Edward knew that, and Monica hoped that this was one of the reasons he loved her.
“I will not go back on my word,” she said, the ache in her chest proof of the difficulty of this decision.
Edward remained silent, then said, “Would she stay here with Lucy or another family member? And you and I and Emilio would come often—”
“You still don’t understand,” Monica said. “Emilio and I are her sense of belonging to a family. Miguel has broken her heart. Perhaps his latest decision has helped the healing process. We’ll see, but I can’t do the same thing to her.”
Again, Edward did not speak for a long time. His eyes were cast down as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
“Edward, please say something,” she urged. “I can’t stand this
silence. I have to know what you’re thinking.”
He gave her a straightforward look, holding her gaze. “Monica, do you love me?” he asked.
Her answer came out as a choked whisper. “I do. You know I do.”
“I’m trying to figure this out,” he said. “I really am. But I’m struggling here. These ties you all have... I’ve never experienced anything like them exactly. You’re all connected in ways I haven’t experienced in my lifetime. I...can’t believe there isn’t a solution for this somehow.”
One tear fell to her cheek. “Not if I have to take Mama from Sweet Pine.” She grasped his hand, holding it tightly. “Remember your father’s service when you thought you were alone with him at the funeral home?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“I was there, standing in the doorway. You were saying private words to your father, and I felt like a trespasser, but I heard your promise to him.”
He swallowed. “I promised to avenge his death. Then you know I kept that promise.”
“I do. You promised you wouldn’t stop until you found the truth about what happened to him. Even when I couldn’t go on believing your theory, you persevered. You kept looking, searching for clues. I’m ashamed to say that I abandoned you for a time.”
“But you didn’t, Monica. You were the one who finally tracked down the clue that brought us to the guilty party. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Perhaps that’s true,” she said. “But the important thing to know is that I never stopped believing in you, in your determination, your loyalty to your father. I never thought you would give up on your promise. And now...” She wiped the tear from her cheek. “Our situations are not so different. I have a promise I must keep.”
“I wish the consequences of what you’re saying were different, Monica. But I have to accept your loyalty to your father.”
She released a deep breath. “Thank you, Edward.”
“But Monica, a life apart, living hours from each other. My job is in Miami. Yours is almost three hours away. I don’t know that I could do that. I miss you even when we’re apart for a day. What kind of a marriage would that be?”
“I don’t have an answer,” she said. “We’ll have to think about it. It wouldn’t be easy, but Edward, don’t you think that now is the time for us both to believe in something together? Maybe this is the thing.”
The waiter came to their table and delivered the check. Edward pulled a credit card from his wallet and placed it on top. Until the waiter returned with the card, neither Edward nor Monica spoke. They were lost in their own thoughts, their own priorities.
Monica knew that Edward needed time to sort this out. How much time, she didn’t know. What his decision would be, she could only speculate. But his answer could break her heart.
* * *
EDWARD SPOKE VERY little on the drive back to Lantana Lane. When he pulled onto the gravel entrance, he viewed the house in a different way. It was a fortress for Rosa, a place of calm and acceptance. To Edward, it was an obstacle to the life he wanted.
But he couldn’t deny what Monica had said in the restaurant. They had both made promises to their fathers. They both believed that a promise made should be a promise kept. But perhaps Monica’s was the deepest, most profound of the two. She made her father’s dying moments comforting because he heard her words and believed her.
Edward made a promise to a man who was already gone. He could have gone back on his word, and his father would have never even known about the pledge. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. But Monica had made a solemn promise to a man who took her words into the afterlife knowing his daughter would make everything okay when he was gone. How could Edward tell her now that she should forget the moments when her father was dying and think only of herself now? He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
And the truly sad thing was what would Edward think of her if she did that? He and Monica were from two different worlds. They lived different lives—hers full of family and togetherness. His was, even now with Cammie and Brooke, mostly a solitary life Or it had been, until he’d met Monica. Yes, he loved her. He’d never loved anyone as much as he loved her. But could they make it work? Could they be weekend partners and sometime lovers?
Edward reached across the console of his car, drew Monica close. “I love you,” he said. “And since I can’t stop loving you, we will find a way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE NEXT DAY Edward rescheduled an appointment with the Realtor. At the time his father died, he wasn’t ready to sell the house that had meant so much to his dad, but now he was. His life wasn’t about this old Keys place. Nor was it about the marina his father had purchased.
For Edward, the property only brought sad memories. This was where his father had died. It was where Monica had almost died. It was where Edward spent many lonely nights mourning what he had lost and what he might still lose. It was the place that had housed the many mementos of his dad’s life—mementos that Edward had given away, mementos that proved his father had a life Edward had never known about.
Yes, it was time to let go of the past, to look to the future—a future that he hoped included him and Monica and Emilio. And maybe more children. If he could just figure out a plan.
The Realtor arrived at noon. Edward showed her around the home, with special emphasis on the large living room, the “parlor,” as his father had called it, where Edward and he had spent many nights in front of the stone fireplace. He showed the Realtor the library, which had housed so much of his father’s past, the ample kitchen with its many cupboards and large pantry. They toured the five bedrooms, including the master, where the judge had slept, and the light and airy room with a wonderful view of the ocean and large open windows, where Edward slept.
The Realtor commented on the endurance of the rich pine with which the house had been constructed and that had withstood hurricanes and punishing salt air. “You don’t find homes of this quality and character any longer,” the Realtor said. “Now all new construction is made of cinder block and brick. But nothing will outlast this structure.”
When they walked onto the porch to examine the hardy wood planks and newly refinished roof, Edward drew a long, deep breath. “Is there always a breeze like this?” the Realtor asked.
Edward thought a moment. “Yes, I suppose there is, especially on this porch. Even in the hottest temperatures, one can still experience fresh Gulf air.”
They sat. The Realtor took paperwork from her briefcase. “I really don’t have any comparables to show you,” she said. “This home is unique. I’m sure I can sell it quickly. With that in mind, we should look for a cash buyer. Once we find a buyer you can close immediately and get the payment right away.”
She told him the price she had in mind.
Edward inhaled a gulp of air. “You’re not serious?”
The Realtor smiled. “Obviously you’re not aware of home values in the Keys these days. And this house, with its unique history, is highly desirable. I get calls every day from people wanting a home with a unique Keys perspective. I don’t doubt we can get this price and perhaps even have a bidding war.” She handed him a pen and a contract. “I can have this listed by tomorrow, and as I said, I believe it will be a quick sale.”
He stared at the amount on the contract, double what his dad had paid for the place. A small fortune. And as he read the details of the contract, his hand began to shake. He tightened his grip on the pen.
“Is something wrong?” the Realtor asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Suddenly I’m not so sure...”
In his mind, he replayed the last half hour of his life. The rooms he had visited on the second floor, the ones on the first, the parlor, the kitchen, the library. And he remembered the words he had uttered as he showed the Realtor around. They had been words of affection, of fond remembrances, of connection. They had not be
en words of grieving and sadness. All at once, sitting on the porch with the Gulf breeze fanning his face, he realized what he had overlooked until now. This house was not a problem. It was a solution.
He handed the contract and pen to the Realtor. “I’m sorry, Belinda. I think I’ve changed my mind about selling at this time.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “I thought you were sure.”
“I was. Or at least I thought I was. But now I’m going to keep the house.”
Her expression went from one of triumph to confusion and disappointment. “The time is right for listing this home, Edward,” she said.
“I realize that, but I need to talk to someone first. Again, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll list the house now. If things change, I’ll let you know.”
Belinda packed up her papers and stood. “I hope I hear from you. You’re making a mistake to wait.” She went down the steps and to her car.
Edward took his cell phone from his pocket and called Monica’s number. “Are you busy?” he asked when she answered. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“No. Is something wrong?”
“Something might be very right. I’ll be at your house in a few minutes.”
* * *
WHEN EDWARD PULLED into Monica’s drive, she was waiting for him on the front steps. His heart swelled with love. She was beautiful in a yellow sleeveless blouse with tiny ruffles on the shoulders and a pair of plaid yellow shorts. She was always beautiful, and she was Edward’s heart and soul.
She came to his car. “Do you want to come in?” she asked. “Mama is grocery shopping with Aunt Lucy, and Emilio is at camp.”
He reached over and opened the door from the inside. “Take a short ride with me.”
She climbed in. “You have me worried. I know you said nothing was wrong, but your voice sounded anxious.”
He reversed onto the street and drove the same way he’d just come. “Hang on to that thought,” he said. “If, in a moment, you still think something is wrong, then we’ll start over with another plan.”
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