Barefoot in the Rain

by Roxanne St Claire

  “But she died when she was really, really young.” Guy reached toward William. “That’s why you’re everything to me, son. Everything.”

  “ ’Kay, Guy. Let’s call it a night then, buddy.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Guy felt the waterworks, but he didn’t care as he reached out to hug Will. “I love you, son. I love you so much.”

  Will didn’t hug him back, but that was okay. He was here. His son was here.

  Jocelyn managed to snag a ride back to Barefoot Bay with Lacey and Clay, even if Will wasn’t happy about that. He walked her to the car and promised to talk to her tomorrow, but she’d had enough revelations, enough emotion, enough Guy, enough close calls, enough of everything.

  Solitude screamed for her.

  She rode in the back cab of Clay’s truck with Ashley, who, while texting, sent wayward glances at Jocelyn.

  “Yes, Ash, the thing with my father is a tough situation,” Jocelyn finally said. “You can ask me about it, honey.”

  Lacey looked over her shoulder to give Jocelyn a grateful smile.

  “I was really wondering why you came home all wet.”

  “We got caught in the rain.”

  She leaned close and whispered, “Aunt Zoe said you totally don’t have your bra on.”

  Jocelyn’s jaw dropped but, damn it, Clay heard and laughed.

  “Listen to your iPod until we get home,” Lacey said sternly, fighting a smile. “But if you want to talk about your dad, Joss, I’ll come up to your villa and Clay can take Ashley home.”

  “Thanks,” Jocelyn said. Solitude might be calling, but she really needed to talk to Lacey, too. For a minute. “I’d like that.”

  Ashley gave her another sideways look and Jocelyn gave her thigh a friendly punch.

  “Hey, what’s that for?” Ashley asked.

  “For Zoe. Give it to her next time you see her.”

  When Jocelyn and Lacey stepped into the dimly lit villa, Lacey was the one to drop onto the sofa with a huge sigh. “Well, you missed all the drama.”

  “I got enough, thank you very much.” She turned on the softest light in the living area and looked down at her shirt. “Why does Zoe have to notice everything?”

  “Where is it?” Lacey asked, curling a long stawberry-blonde strand and giving a sheepish, teasing smile.

  “Somewhere in right field.”

  “At Mimosa High?” She practically choked.

  “Don’t be scandalized. I’m sure it’s not the first bra to be left at that field. Hell, there’s probably an entire Victoria’s Secret catalog buried under the bleachers.” Jocelyn headed to the back. “I’m going to change. Help yourself to some water or… milk.”

  After she changed into sleep pants and a tank top, brushed the rain out of her hair, and clipped it up, Jocelyn returned to the living room to find Lacey flat out on the couch, sound asleep.

  “Whoa, mama. Somebody’s tired.”

  Lacey blinked, sighed, and rolled over, grabbing a pillow with a soft moan. “Oh, I’m so glad I went for the expensive fabric on these pillows.”

  “So your drool won’t stain?”

  She smiled, eyes closed. “This babymaking job is tiring.”

  “ ’Specially when you’re building a resort in your spare time, raising a teenager, and attending family drama performances.”

  She opened her eyes. “He’s really messed up, isn’t he?”

  “Confused, I believe, is the proper term.” Jocelyn opened a water bottle. “I kinda wish this were wine.”

  “There’s some in there,” Lacey said. “I stocked your fridge.”

  “No wonder you’re exhausted.”

  “So…” Lacey dragged herself up. “You want to tell me what happened with Will or would you like to hear how Tessa took the news?”

  Jocelyn slammed the bottle on the table hard enough to spill a little water. “You told her?”

  “We told everyone. Well, we told Ashley at home first. Then we told the gang tonight.”

  Guilt squeezed. “Damn, what was I doing? I should have been there for Tessa.”

  “Zoe was there. You were leaving underwear on the baseball field. Did you do it?”

  “No.” She rolled her eyes. “Nothing is sacred, is it?”

  “Is it?” Lacey sat up a little higher. “Is sex with Will Palmer sacred?”

  What a damn good question. “It’s not… meaningless, let’s put it that way.” The need to share her fears rose up a little, but she tamped it down. She shared judiciously. And so, so rarely. And this subject? Totally off limits. “How did Tessa take the news?”

  “She was fine. I think she already knew.”

  “Really?” Wouldn’t she have said something to Jocelyn? They’d talked so much about infertility in the past eight or ten years. “God, I hate how we’re always keeping things from each other.”

  “From the Queen Secret Keeper.”

  Jocelyn shrugged. “My secrets are out,” she said. “My dad’s mean and badly…”

  “Confused.”

  “Yes. And I came home from a walk with my old next-door neighbor missing some clothes. I have no secrets left.” Just one.

  “Coco Kirkman.”

  Okay, two. “No word from those reporters?” she asked.

  “Clay talked to Slade Garrison and he said some are sniffing around asking questions. Don’t take this personally, but most of the people on this island barely remember you. Of course Slade knows who your dad is, since he was the former sheriff, but he retired so early, even before your mom died. But since then, Guy’s been off the radar, and really, those reporters are getting nowhere. Charity is your only real danger.”

  Charity was no danger. “I need to go see her tomorrow.”

  “You’re safe up here,” Lacey said.

  “I know.” A rush of affection rolled through her, making Jocelyn reach over and give Lacey’s ankles a squeeze. “Thank you for this sanctuary. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  Lacey smiled. “You can pay me back.”

  “Anything. Name it.”

  “Take the job.”

  Jocelyn laughed softly. “I walked right into that one.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Lacey… I don’t know.”

  Lacey sat up completely, awake and alert. And, oh God, on a mission. “You could be close to Will.”

  “What makes you think that’s a plus?”

  “The bra in the outfield.”

  She’d never live that down. “A little trip around the bases does not a relationship make.”

  Lacey looked skyward. “You are so into him, why are you lying to yourself? And he’s like… wow. He adores you. It’s all over his face. He couldn’t even string a noun and a verb together to make a sentence in the sub meeting yesterday.”

  “That’s not because of me.” That was because of what Guy did.

  “Bull.”

  “It’s not, but listen, taking your job offer is not about Will. Or any man. Not that there really is any other man to consider, but—”

  “Of course there is.”

  “No.” She gave Lacey a serious look. “I’m not seeing anyone in L.A. Not even clients,” she added with a rueful laugh.

  “That’s not the man I meant. I meant your father.”

  “Oh. Him. I’m putting him in a home.” Wasn’t she?

  Lacey’s look was sheer compassion and possibly a little mind reading. “Are you certain about that?”

  Maybe she should go get the pictures hidden in her bureau and put the whole conversation to bed. “Relatively certain.”

  “Because Zoe said…”

  “What?”

  She shrugged, sliding her feet to the floor and slipping them into flip-flops. “Nothing. She was mistaken.”

  “What did Zoe say, Lace?”

  “She thought you might be changing your mind, is all. I think she’s developing a soft spot for the old guy.” Lacey stood, smoothed her wrinkled top, and pulled out her phone to
glance at a text. “Clay’s going to meet me and walk home with me,” she said.

  “Okay.” Jocelyn stood to hug her friend, holding her tighter and longer than she held most people. “I’m honored that you think I have this job in me.”

  “Are you kidding? The place would be run like a German U-boat. But it’s more than that,” she said, reaching up to cup Jocelyn’s face. “You need to take risks, Joss. You need to take chances. If you don’t, you’re always going to be protected.”

  “And you think this new job is the risk I need to take?”

  “This new job and…” Lacey pulled her closer to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Will Palmer.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she promised. Then, after a second, she smiled. “I’ll make some lists.”

  Lacey laughed. “Excellent sign.” Her phone vibrated. “There’s my man. See you tomorrow.”

  Jocelyn let her out the front door and waved to Clay, who walked down the path with a tiny flashlight beam bouncing with each step. She watched them greet each other with a kiss, then waved good night.

  When she closed the door, she stood for a long time leaning against it, her hands pressed on the gleaming wood, imagining the hands that had made that wood.

  On her.

  Yes, if she took the job, she’d be near Will. And Guy.

  She’d certainly never expected this when she came here for refuge. She might have been safer staying in L.A. and dodging the media.

  Still hungry for air, she opened the front door again, frowning when she saw that little light moving down toward the beach. She stepped outside and peered toward the moving light, seeing Clay and Lacey’s silhouettes in the cloud-covered moonlight, strolling the beach, stopping to kiss.

  That was love and yet there was no fear, no impending doom, no sense that love was a lie. Couldn’t Jocelyn look to her best friend as an example instead of her own parents?

  Longing squeezed her, stinging her eyes, burning her stomach. Envy, flat out and so real, grabbed hold and took complete ownership.

  What would it be like to trust a man like that? What would it be like to believe in that kind of love? What would it be like… with Will?

  Good God, she never wanted anything so much in her life. What was stopping her, except Guy?

  On every level, it was her father who had stolen that kind of happiness from her. Would putting him away in one of those places free her? Would taking him out of the picture open her heart to possibilities?

  No. She’d have to forgive and forget. One she couldn’t and the other she wouldn’t.

  The soft ring of Lacey’s laughter floated over the sand, like music in the moonlight, a reminder of what Jocelyn could never, ever have but wanted more than she’d ever realized.

  Chapter 24

  Jocelyn had risen at 4:00 a.m. and launched into the mother of all lists, feeling a little less burdened by the time the sun came up. Sitting on the front patio watching the water and sky change from the deep violet of night to shades of morning peach, she smoothed her hands over the pages, satisfied with every action item, priority rating, deadline, and the lovely little boxes reserved for check marks.

  She had a plan. Several of them, as a matter of fact, with various strategies dependent on the rollout of different tactics for every one of her pending issues.

  She closed her eyes, dropped her head against the cushion, and smiled.

  In other words, anything could happen, but she would be ready for whatever it was. Maybe the first thing that should happen was some sleep. Or at least coffee.

  “Hey. Wake up.”

  She popped up with a soft gasp, the sight of Tessa holding two large paper cups as welcome as just about anything she could have imagined.

  “My supreme sacrifice for you,” Tessa said, climbing the two steps to join Jocelyn and hand her a cup. “I’m drinking nonorganic Lipton from the Super Min instead of my usual Nepalese black tea brewed exclusively in the Himalayas. You, however, get Charity Grambling’s finest.”

  “You could be carrying motor oil and I’d drink it right now,” Jocelyn said, scooting over to make room on the patio seat. “Bless you, child. There’s a coffeemaker in there, but I think I need to grind beans.” She sipped, closing her eyes in pleasure. “Call me crazy, but I like Charity’s coffee. This is early even for you organic farmers, isn’t it?”

  “Mmm. I didn’t sleep well.”

  “That makes two of us,” Jocelyn said, but added a gentle pat on Tessa’s leg, so tanned and toned under her work shorts. “I make lists when I can’t sleep.” She angled her head toward the stack of paper she’d placed on the end table.

  “I know that,” Tessa said. “I was your roommate in college, remember?”

  “What do you do when you can’t sleep?” Jocelyn frowned. “Not that I remember you ever having a problem with that.”

  Tessa shrugged. “I go dig in the dirt, of course, which is where I am headed. Want to come and help me plant the next cycle of bok choy and kale or just take a walk on the beach?”

  Jocelyn heard the subtext: I need to talk to a friend. “I’ll walk the beach with you.”

  Taking their cups, they crossed the path and maneuvered through the sea oats. The tide was low, leaving a huge expanse of untouched cool, cream-colored sand peppered with a colorful array of shells.

  “Good day for collecting shells,” Tessa mused.

  “Perfect.” The coral reef and sandbar hidden under the calm waters of Barefoot Bay offered up plentiful and exquisite shells with each high tide, and when the waters receded, collectors could score.

  “I bet every single person who stays here takes home a few as souvenirs.”

  “Can’t blame them.” The thought left a little impression on Jocelyn’s heart, the slightest longing to be here when those guests discovered all the secrets of Barefoot Bay.

  “I’m so grateful Lacey got to keep all this land and do the right thing with it,” Tessa mused. “I mean, I know development was inevitable after that hurricane, but at least Casa Blanca is going to be natural and built to respect the environment, not destroy it.”

  “It’s going to be a great place,” Jocelyn agreed. “One of a kind.”

  Tessa gave her a sideways look. “Great enough to lure you here?”

  Jocelyn laughed softly. “It seems Lacey’s suggestion has turned into the talk of the town.”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell Charity or it would be. Are you even tempted to consider it, Joss?”

  Why lie? “A little.” A lot. “It’s complicated.”

  “Moving from L.A., leaving your business, and starting a whole new job?” Tessa asked. “Complicated would be an understatement. But I’m so happy to hear you’re considering it.”

  “I wouldn’t go as far as ‘considering,’ but, well, let’s put it this way, it merited a few lines on my morning lists.”

  “Cool.” Tess waited a few beats, then gave Jocelyn a sideways look. “Who’s going to bring this up first?”

  “About Lacey?”

  Tessa nodded. “I’m only a little mad that she told you first.”

  Jocelyn sipped her coffee with one hand and put her free arm around Tessa. “She didn’t tell me. It kind of slipped out.”

  Tessa didn’t answer, looking down as though she were interested in the shells and letting her hair cover her face. Jocelyn dipped a little so she could get a good look at her friend. “Is that all you’re mad about?”

  Tessa paused, sipping her tea and making a face when the offensive taste hit her tongue. “God, I’m not mad. I’m just, you know…”

  “I do know,” Jocelyn assured her. “You feel like crap and, worse, you feel guilty about it. You know you should be all kinds of happy for Lacey—and you are—but you hear the clock ticking and you’re not quite ready to accept the fact that you may never have your own baby.”

  Tessa slid her a look. “Do you have to be so raw and honest?”

  “Am I right?”

  No answer.
<
br />   “You want euphemisms and platitudes?” Jocelyn asked. “You want me to dance around the truth? Or do you want to solve your problems?”

  “Just my luck to pick the hard-ass control-freak life coach to talk to in my time of need.”

  “It’s not like this is the first time we’ve talked about it, Tess. And I’m not a hard ass.”

  “You’re tough.”

  Was she? “I don’t feel so tough right now, but I am a life coach, so making someone look at the truth is usually my default mode. And a list,” she added with a smile.

  “What would be on my list?”

  “Your problems.”

  Tessa shook her head, a soft breeze lifting one of her golden-oak colored waves. “I don’t have any problems, Joss. I love my new job, I love living here on Mimosa Key.”

  “Your ex-husband is a baby-making machine and you want one more than you want your next breath and your closest friend and co-worker just announced she’s pregnant at thirty-six.”

  “Seven. Which should give me hope; Lacey’s a few years older than we are.”

  “You don’t need hope, honey—you need an action plan.”

  “I need a new uterus.”

  Jocelyn puffed out some air, not quite sure how to respond to that, because Tessa was so dead set on having her own baby, not someone else’s.

  “And I could use a husband.”

  “So traditional for an organic tea-drinking hippie like you.”

  “I’m not a hippie!” Tessa leaned her shoulder into Jocelyn to nudge her hard. “My parents were, but I’m just…”

  Jocelyn waited, knowing the next word would be the closest thing to the truth.

  “Desperate,” Tessa admitted on a sigh.

  “Aw, Tess.” Desperation was the worst. “You know you have options.”

  “I don’t want to do it alone, and honestly, I had a husband, remember? I can’t get pregnant for love or money. We tried both.”

  “Seriously, Tess, why won’t you consider adoption?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not what I want.” She stopped, looking down at a grouping of shells, then she bent over to pick one up. “Look at this. Pure perfection.”

  “Throw it away,” Jocelyn said.

  “Why?”

  “Just toss it as far as you can.”