Casper had no taste for the celebration. In fact, he should be home playing Monopoly with his family, eating his sister’s homemade pizza.
He dug a fistful of lempiras from his pocket, left the bills on the bar. “Thanks.”
The barkeep nodded.
Doug stopped Casper with a hand to his arm. “Fitz was looking for you today. Said he needed to know if you were going to stick around after the new recruits join us in a couple weeks.”
Six months ago—maybe even six weeks ago—a quick yes would have shot to Casper’s lips, his hurt fresh and volatile. But a man didn’t spend Christmas away from his family without feeling the wounds reopen, without taking a good look at them.
Without realizing that perhaps a few of them had been self-inflicted. And today’s debacle only told him the truth.
He couldn’t find a treasure if it washed up onshore in front of him.
Maybe answers—healing—could be found not in running but in returning home. Diving into a different life. “I dunno.”
“Well, if not, he needs you to train someone else,” Doug was saying, glancing now and again at the girls by the bar.
“How hard can it be to slop out the boat?”
“Hey, you got to work on the last cannon lift—”
“I got to hold the line and shout, ‘Ready, bring it up!’”
“No one said archaeology was glamorous work, Casper.”
“I don’t need glamorous. But I do need to be . . . I don’t know . . . actually needed.” He shook himself out of Doug’s grip and headed out of the bar, into the night.
“Casper, are you leaving so soon?”
He turned at the voice and knew Doug had sicced pretty Martha Queen on him. Half-Trinidadian, half-Asian, the petite diver could steal a man’s breath away with her amazingly smooth coffee-brown skin, those chocolate eyes. If he didn’t already have Raina occupying too much of his brain, he would have let sweet, smart, beautiful Martha get a foothold inside.
“Hey, Martha.”
She’d caught her curly black hair back in a tie-dye hair band, but it flowed out in thick, tantalizing corkscrews. She wore a pair of Army fatigues and a pink T-shirt, the smell of coconut oil lifting off her skin. “Stay,” she said, her voice light. “It’ll be fun.”
Maybe. Yeah. Right now, he could appreciate a little distraction. Even just a walk down the beach with a pretty girl.
Or . . .
Casper blew out a breath. No. He wasn’t Owen, and the memory of his brother’s indiscretions and the destruction he left in his wake sent a chill into his smile. Besides, until he got Raina out of his head, any late-night romantic stroll would only be wasted on him. “Nah, I’m headed home.”
Martha caught up with him, tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Then I’ll walk with you.”
He glanced at Doug, who lifted his glass to him. Oh, brother. But short of being rude—
Besides, she lived only two doors down from him, in the grouping of tiny houses Fitz rented for the staff, and on a night like this, maybe she could use some protection. “Okay.”
He headed out to the beach, kicking his toes through the cool sand. Stars littered the sky, fell into the black ocean. He could make out the Mayan, Fitz’s ship, docked at the wharf, the lights in the portholes like eyes.
Martha walked beside him. “Doug says you found a treasure chest.”
“Nice. By morning, the entire village will know.”
“I think they already do.” She had taken off her sandals; they dangled from her fingers. “I heard it was empty.”
“Yeah. Of course it was.” He watched as a couple ran into the surf, laughing, hands entwined. They fell into each other’s arms.
“Are you going home after the New Year?”
He didn’t answer. The scent of the bonfire seasoned the air, the beat of drums and Bob Marley on the breeze. Waves whispered against the sand.
“I think you should stay.” She touched his hand then and stopped him, stepped in front of him. The wind caught her fragrance and twined it around him. She pointed to the necklace he wore. “That’s a good idea—to put one of the copper coins Fitz gave us on a lanyard.”
He’d really made the necklace for Grace. Or . . . okay, yes, Raina. But she’d probably think the trinket silly.
Now Martha touched his cheek, smiled. “Casper, I don’t know why, but there are shadows around you, darkness. You’re in the most beautiful place in the world, on the night of new beginnings. Isn’t it time to cast them off and start over?”
He stared at her, his chest a little hollow.
Then she rose up on her toes and kissed him. Sweetly, softly. He closed his eyes, letting her, tasting pineapple juice on her lips, a hint of her lure in the air. He slid his hand to her shoulder, and the urge to surrender, to lose himself in her affection, even for a moment, stirred inside him.
Yes. Maybe he should let it go, move on—
His cell phone vibrated in his shirt pocket and he jerked away.
Martha startled.
“Sorry. Uh—” Casper fished out the phone, looked at the screen. “It’s my sister. She wants to video-call me.”
“Answer it,” she said, smiling as if undeterred by the distraction.
Oh, boy. He tucked his heart back into place, then answered the call.
Grace’s face appeared on the screen. “Casper! Happy New Year.” She wore a Deep Haven sweatshirt, her hair pulled back, her face scrubbed clean, her blue eyes warm, and homesickness nearly knocked him over.
“Sis.” He glanced at Martha, but she seemed content to stand there and grin at him. “I expected you to be out with Max tonight.”
“Actually, I catered a wedding for another one of the Blue Ox players. And I wanted to call and tell you because . . . well, okay, I miss you.”
He swallowed the crazy boulder lodged in his throat. Aside from a few e-mails to his mother back in Deep Haven, he hadn’t done more than text his sisters since his escape to Central America last fall.
His voice nearly cut out, but he dragged it up, tried to right himself into something casual, easy. “Me too.”
“I’m so jealous. You’re standing on a beach in paradise, and I’m here, dressed in my sweatpants and wool socks.”
“Where, exactly, are you?”
“It’s my new apartment. Wait; I’ll show you around.” She got up, held her phone away, and gave him a tour of the apartment. He made out a small kitchen, the quilt that used to cover her bed folded over a chair, a flat-screen TV on a flea-market table.
Grace appeared back on the screen. “I know—humble digs. But I have my own catering company, with three more gigs coming up in the next three months, and I’m working at a bar and grill in St. Paul. I’m doing it, Casp. I’m really catering for a living.”
“That’s awesome, Grace.”
“So. How do you like Roatán?”
“It’s . . .”
“It’s gorgeous and he nearly found a treasure today!” Martha leaned into the conversation, Skype-bombing. She looked at him and winked.
He managed a return smile.
“Who’s that?” Grace asked, almost too brightly.
“Uh . . . my friend Martha.”
“We’re celebrating the New Year!” Martha said, and he wondered just how many pineapple drinks she had consumed. In fact, he should walk her straight home.
“Yes, you are,” Grace said, laughing. “What’s this about a treasure? I always knew you’d strike it rich someday.”
“No—I didn’t—”
A cry on the other end made him stop. Grace turned away. “Raina, are you okay?”
Raina?
Casper’s heart skipped and stopped in his chest.
Grace was living with Raina? And then, as if he needed a reminder of exactly how much he missed her, Grace moved out of the camera’s view.
And from the shadows, across the room, he saw her. Or part of her—most of her was covered by the sofa back. But the lamplight illuminated her enoug
h for him to see her beautiful, long, silky black hair.
He longed for a glimpse at her amber-brown eyes, but he got instead a very inspiring view of the ceiling as Grace set the phone down.
Raina’s voice came again, high and panicked.
His own panic sparked, right behind it. “What’s going on? Grace?”
“Don’t worry, Raina. Everything will be fine—just stay calm.” This from Grace before she picked up the phone. “Sorry, Casp; I gotta run. Uh—Happy New Year. Love ya.”
Then Raina’s voice filled the background, calling Grace’s name as she clicked off.
Raina?
“Is she all right?” Martha made a face. “That didn’t sound good. Maybe she had a little too much fun tonight.”
“She’s fine. I’m sure she’s fine.” Casper pocketed the phone. Just stay calm.
It wasn’t Grace’s words so much as her tone.
No one up there in snowy Minnesota was staying calm.
Martha laced her fingers into his, stepped up to him. “Now, where were we?”
“We were going home,” he said.
Apparently, denial had her number and decided that tonight Raina had to face the truth.
She was having a baby.
Not this moment, thankfully, but soon—very soon if the terbutaline didn’t work its magic, calm her uterine muscles, and stop her body from laboring.
She lay in a quiet semiprivate room, the predawn silver grays streaming through the window of the birthing ward at Methodist Hospital. An IV dripped fluids into her body—as if she didn’t feel bloated enough. And exposed. And cold. And . . . alone.
Grace, it seemed, had left her sometime in the last hour. Raina had awoken from her catnap to find the orange vinyl recliner empty.
Not that she blamed her best friend/roommate/labor coach for wanting some real shut-eye. Grace had stepped in like she’d promised, bundled Raina into the car, and hustled her to the medical center. She’d filled out the forms, updated the staff on Raina’s medical history, held Raina’s hand, and kept Raina’s emotions in a tight, coiled ball instead of exploding into a messy, ugly debris field of panic.
Except now Grace had vanished, and the panic threatened to edge its way out of Raina’s chest, into her throat.
She put a hand to her mouth, leaned her head back against the pillow. Closed her eyes.
Then, instead of the words of the doctor, reassuring her that they’d stopped the contractions, or even Grace’s voice, reminding her that she wasn’t alone . . . she heard laughter.
The high, ebullient voice of Casper’s new girlfriend leaching out through the phone. It’s gorgeous and he nearly found a treasure today!
Yeah, she bet he did. Probably in the form of some tall, thin, blonde beach bunny who—
No, that wasn’t fair. Casper wasn’t his brother Owen, and he deserved to be happy. Deserved to start over.
Deserved to forget her.
Raina’s eyes burned, and she ran her hand across her cheek, catching the tear.
Footsteps, then the curtain rolled back. She opened her eyes to the sight of her OB doctor, Natasha Mortensen, her auburn hair in a ponytail, her hazel eyes bearing the night shift hours. “Good morning, Raina,” she said, keeping her voice low.
The woman in the opposite bed had delivered sometime in the early hours, right before Raina arrived, and—lucky her—had slept the night through, her husband perched in the recliner beside her bed.
A sweet, normal, perfect family.
Natasha set down a file, then unwound her stethoscope, placing it on Raina’s belly. “Good heart tones.” She stepped over to the monitor and read the printout of the baby’s heartbeat. “The baby seems to be free of any distress. And you haven’t had a contraction for two hours. That’s good.”
She examined Raina, then pulled up a chair. “Okay, here’s the news. I’m going to keep you here a little longer, just to make sure the contractions don’t start back up, and then I’m sending you home to rest. You’re at thirty-four weeks, so the baby is nearly full-term, but I’d like to see if you can hang on at least another week, maybe two.” She patted Raina’s arm. “Two weeks to catch up on all your Netflix shows before this little bundle arrives. But you’d better start picking out names.”
Natasha stood, squeezed her arm. “I’ll see you back here in two weeks. No sooner—got that?”
Raina managed a nod as Grace walked in with an answer. “Aye, aye, Doc.”
Grace set a bag down on the bedside table. “I had to run out and score you some breakfast and a cup of decaf joe. What did I miss?”
Raina just stared at her. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for Grace’s calm under pressure. The way she could look at life and pull out the silver lining, believe that everything would work out. She clearly hadn’t lived Raina’s dark life.
“Bed rest for two weeks.” Raina lifted her shoulder. “Then I have to figure out what I’m doing.”
Grace opened the bag of food. “I found a Panera down the street. One broccoli quiche just for you.” She pulled out the quiche, a napkin, and a fork. “And two weeks of forced bed rest? Think of all the books you can read.”
Raina stared at the quiche without an appetite. “I’m so stupid.”
“Huh?” Grace sank down into the recliner.
“I . . . I can’t get it out of my head. That girl last night—Casper.”
“Oh.” Grace stared at her coffee, took a sip, then looked out the window. “Yeah, he did seem to be . . . okay.”
“More than okay. He’s moving on, and frankly, I don’t blame him. I mean, it’s not every day you get your heart broken by finding out the woman you like—”
“I think he was in love with you.”
“Which makes it even worse—although I think we can both agree it was just a summer romance.”
“Casper takes things pretty seriously, Raina. I mean, yeah, he was the family troublemaker when we were kids, but he’s also the guy who shows up when you need him.”
“And I hurt him. No, I destroyed him.”
Grace leaned forward. “You didn’t lead him on. You didn’t know you were pregnant—”
“With his brother’s kid! From a stupid, brainless mistake. Why did I—?” She pressed her hands over her eyes. Swallowed. Found her breath. “With everything inside me, I wish I could go back to that night, to that girl sitting on the pier with Owen, and warn her. Tell her to use her head instead of being charmed by the romance of the stars and the fact that your youngest brother is very handsome.”
“And charming. And broken. I’m so sorry for the way he behaved.”
“We behaved. And look what it caused—your brothers brawling over me at your sister’s wedding, Owen vanishing, Casper taking off like Indiana Jones in search of lost treasure, and you having to babysit me.”
“I’m hardly babysitting you, Raina. In fact, I fear I worked you too hard tonight . . .” A wry expression washed across her face. “I’m sorry.”
“No. I have to work. I mean, I can’t freeload . . .” She paused, took a breath. “And I have to face the truth. I am having a baby I can’t take care of, bringing it into a world without a father, without a family. I know I would make a terrible mother—”
“Raina—”
She held up her hand to stop Grace’s words. “My own mother died when I was nine, and even before that, she wasn’t around much, with fighting the cancer. The thought of being a mom is . . . Well, I can’t wrap my brain around it. Really, how could I take care of a baby? My child deserves a better life—a bigger life. Something stable and safe.”
“What if Owen—?”
“No.” Raina tried not to interject emotion into her answer, but it still came out fast, hard. Final.
Grace seemed nonplussed. “Right. Okay. But what about Casper? He doesn’t even know you’re pregnant. Maybe if he knew . . .”
“No.” This time the word emerged softer. “Imagine that conversation. You thought Casper lost it when he realized that O
wen and I had . . . I mean, yes, it happened before I met Casper, but I don’t think that made it hurt any less. Now imagine his face when I tell him I’m having his brother’s baby. Even if he could look past that to a future with me, I highly doubt he’s going to want to raise Owen’s child. Or that he should.”
Grace’s mouth tightened into a grim line, truth—or agreement—in her expression. “What if you stayed with me?”
“Grace, be serious. You have a life to build with Max.” Raina shook her head. “I think I have my answer.” She ran her hands over her belly, finding a foot, an elbow. “I keep thinking of Gina. And her mom. And her life. I think I’ve been holding on to the wild, impossible hope that Casper might show up, forgive me, and . . . I don’t know—figure out a way for us to be together. But . . .” She swallowed again, her eyes watery. “I am a fool.”
“Raina . . .” Grace reached for her hand, but Raina drew it away.
“Even you would agree that it’s better for Casper to move on.”
Grace sighed.
Raina nodded despite the dagger in her chest. “Which means that I need to also. I don’t know how, but I have to give this baby a better life than I had.”
Grace frowned and began to shake her head.
“You know this is the best thing for everyone, especially the baby. She needs a home with two parents who love her and can provide for her and . . . No more denial or hope of the perfect happy ending. At least for me. But I can give it to my baby.”
She ran her hands over her face again. Yes, this was the right decision. “You need to go home, Grace, and get some sleep. When you come back, would you bring the adoption file with you? The one the agency sent over? I need to pick the perfect parents for my child.”
CASPER KNEW HE HAD the tendency to gamble big, to throw himself into the hope of finding something priceless, but this time he might really get hurt.
He stared out the window as the plane touched down between the grimy snowdrifts that edged the tarmac. The sky hovered low, a chilly pewter gray, the early afternoon sunshine imprisoned beyond a wall of clouds. When a few of his fellow passengers began reaching for their parkas, he realized he’d packed his jacket in his checked bag. Not thinking clearly as he boarded the puddle jumper off the island fourteen hours ago in ninety-degree weather.
Always on My Mind Page 3