“Ma’am.” Sergeant O’Brien gave her a short nod and unlocked the cuffs.
“This is so going in the town’s newspaper,” Fletcher Bradley laughed. “‘Do-No-Wrong Monty Bettencourt Almost Arrested for Kidnapping a Runaway Bride.’ I can see the headline now.”
“Sergeant O’Brien, why don’t you and your officer come back to the station with me?” Luke Saxon said. “We’ll get this straightened out paperwork-wise and you can have a break. I bet you’re needing one about now.”
“Wait a minute!” Richard lunged at Sienna and grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him.
Monty didn’t have time to move. A flash of green and yellow exploded off the boat as Duchess squawked and shrieked. The parrot swooped in and locked her talons on Richard’s shoulder, flapping her wings hard in his face.
“Grab the walnut!” the bird yelled as Richard let out what Monty could only describe as a cry for help. He released Sienna’s hand and tried to bat away the bird. The man spun in circles, tripping over his own feet as he frantically tried to escape the bird. Twirling along the dock, he inevitably lost his footing, and as Duchess finally flew off, Richard toppled into the water.
“Oh, no!” Sienna ran ahead, skidding to a stop just as Monty caught up to her. They and the officers looked down to where Richard struggled to dog-paddle.
“Ah, man.” Fletcher threw an irritated look at his boss when Luke gestured for him to help out Richard. Fletcher kicked off his shoes, dropped his belt and handed over his cell and wallet, then dived in in an attempt to save Richard and his dignity.
“That’s pathetic,” Monty muttered as Duchess returned to the boat, where she began humming to herself. Feeling partially caught up in an out-of-control Hollywood camp comedy, Monty let out a breath. “Sienna? You all right?”
“Fine.” She nodded stiffly without looking at him. “I’m so sorry for all this, Monty. I hope you know I had nothing to do with it.” She glared at her father, who seemed shocked.
“I do know that.” Monty reached out for her, but she stepped away. “Sienna?”
She offered a weak smile. “If you don’t need me for anything else, I’d like to go back to my room, Sheriff. Luke,” she added when he started to correct her.
“That’s fine. I know where to find you if I need any information.”
She nodded.
“Sienna—” Vincent Fairchild caught her arm as she passed. “We need to talk.”
Sienna looked down at his hand, then back up at him, and for the first time, Monty didn’t see any emotion on her face at all. “There’s nothing left to say, Dad.”
“Wait, Sienna—” Vincent started after her, but Monty put himself between them.
“Let her go, Mr. Fairchild.”
Now it was Monty’s turn to seem shocked. What he saw was the face of a man coming to terms with what he’d nearly done to his only daughter. A man who looked, for want of a better term, lost.
“All right...” Fletcher grunted as he sloshed up onto the dock and dragged a waterlogged Richard Somersby behind him. “What are we doing with him?”
“Bring him to the station. He can dry out in one of our cells,” Luke said. “We’ll check with Sienna in a few hours to see if she wants to file assault charges against him.”
“Assault? I didn’t—” Richard’s protests were cut off by a chest-deep coughing jag. He bent over, braced his hands on his knees and tried to breathe in and out slowly. “I want my ring back. And I want to call my lawyer.”
“Mr. Fairchild?” Monty wasn’t so sure he liked the older man’s pale color. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes, yes.” He wrapped his right hand around his upper left arm. “I’m sure I’m fine. Just need to get away from all this...excitement.” He winced but not before panic flashed in his eyes.
“Luke!” Monty yelled. “I need some help here.”
“No, it’s fine,” Mr. Fairchild wheezed. “I’ll be okay. This isn’t the first—”
“What’s wrong?” Luke took one look at Vincent and pulled out his phone, then dialed 911. “Sir? Mr. Fairchild?”
“It’ll pass. It always does. I just need to sit down for a moment,” Vincent insisted, and motioned to the nearby bench.
Monty helped him while Luke spoke to Dispatch. “Frankie’s coming. Ambulance will take longer. Budget cuts, remember,” he added at Monty’s wide-eyed stare. “It comes from the next town.
Monty looked back at Vincent. The man began to wheeze again and his complexion went grey. “I don’t think we can wait. You’ve got a siren in your cruiser. You drive.”
* * *
SIENNA DIDN’T DO as she’d said she was going to. She didn’t return to the Flutterby. Instead, she found herself wandering up the hills of Butterfly Harbor, wedding binder clutched against her chest as if she was a wayward schoolgirl.
How did she even process what had just happened? Her father and fiancé had chased her down, labeled her confused and needing their direction, still wanting to marry her off. How...why? Did her father hate her so much that he didn’t care she didn’t want to marry Richard? Had her running away not given him pause that the marriage wasn’t in the same stratosphere as a good idea?
What had she ever done to make her father dislike her so much?
She stopped to take a breath. The hill wasn’t steep, but it was long and she wasn’t exactly wearing walking shoes. To her left sat winding streets with those charming, unique houses, their yards exploding with spring colors and life. But the grove of thick eucalyptus and cypress trees to her right promised a forest of quiet.
It was all she could do not to dive into the trees. To hide. To try to come to terms with the lengths her father had been willing to go to get her out of his life, and into one he’d deemed suitable.
A sleek gray cat walked along the edge of the road. It stopped at the end of a wooden fence, hopped onto one of the posts and sat there, watching her. Welcoming the distraction, Sienna approached, slowly, so as not to spook her. She could hear the cat’s purr before she even slid a hand down the feline’s silky fur and in the distance, a soft tinkling of bells chimed in the air. “You’re stunning, aren’t you? What’s your name? You’re not a runaway.” Sienna moved closer and the cat bumped its head against the binder. “Oh, no. You’re well loved, aren’t you?”
“She is most certainly that.”
Sienna jumped.
“My apologies.” The woman beside her offered a small smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought perhaps Ophelia was coming to fetch someone, so I followed. You must be Sienna, Frankie’s wedding planner.”
“I, um, yes.” Sienna offered her hand and found hers clasped between warm, gentle ones. “Sienna Fairchild.” The woman’s smile widened. She was extraordinary to look at. Tall, and curvy, with hair the color of fire done up in curls and braids with tiny bells and shells woven through. Her dress reminded Sienna of the endless green mountains of Ireland, and how it twirled around her legs exposed bare feet adorned with delicate chains and braided twine. Sienna found herself grinning. “You must be Calliope Costas. Monty told me about you.”
Calliope inclined her head to confirm. “My sister, Stella, will be home from school soon and Xander is up at the construction site. I’d love the company.” She didn’t wait for Sienna to agree, but turned and wove her arm through Sienna’s, leading her up the rest of the hill. “You come from the ocean. I can feel it in you. In your soul.”
She...what? “I, well, I’ve been on Monty’s boat for a few days. His new boat. Nana’s Dream.”
“I cannot wait to see it.” The dense trees behind the fence gave way to an abundant farm. Rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables were growing among one another. “You’ve had a difficult day. A rest and some organic lemonade will help.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose.”
“New friends are never
an imposition.” Calliope motioned for her to enter and called for Ophelia to proceed them through the swinging gate. “My door is always open. I have some lovely hibiscus lemonade my sister and I made last night.”
Sienna had never stepped foot in a fairy world before now. The entire setting was picture-perfect. The stone cabin that sat at the end of the path was nestled among the fields, a beautiful herb garden and a neat yard filled with picnic tables and benches. Ribbons and lace tied to the posts of the front porch billowed in the breeze. Wind chimes rang, while crystals and bits of glass spun against the sunlight. The bright red door of Calliope’s home solidified Sienna’s suspicion about the woman’s Celtic ancestry.
No wonder Frankie had decided to hold her bridal shower here. It was the perfect setting.
“Let’s stay outside,” Calliope suggested, and gestured to a small black iron table along the side of the cabin. “Please, sit. I’ll be out in a moment.”
Ophelia let out a soft meow and pranced on.
“Does anyone ever say no to her, Ophelia?”
Ophelia meowed again, then looked up into the sky before darting off after a stray butterfly streaking through the air.
Sienna set down her purse and binder and sank into the padded chair. What had taken her so long, she wondered, to find the courage to stand up to her father? Doing so felt both exhilarating and exhausting, and left her with an almost hopeful buzz.
“Home is where you make it.” Calliope had come around the corner with a wooden tray in her hands. “In case you’re hungry. I have scones left from this morning. Rosemary and orange. And one of our first jars of honey.” She poured Sienna a glass of lemonade, then sat.
The tart drink made her mouth tingle, but there was that faint hint of hibiscus and the ever-so-light touch of sweetness. “It’s delicious.”
“Stella is experimenting with her flavors. Lemonades and teas. She’s hoping to sell lemonade this summer at our weekend market.”
“Is she? You know, I was talking with Jason Corwin this morning about the catering for Frankie’s wedding.” How nice to have a distraction after the chaos at the marina. “He still hasn’t decided on the drinks to serve beyond the open bar. Would you and Stella mind if I suggested this?” She drank more. “I know Frankie and Roman would like to include contributions from as many people as possible on their day.”
“What a lovely thought. You can ask her yourself in a few minutes. Stella is very fond of Frankie.”
“I assume the feeling is mutual since Stella is one of Frankie’s flower girls. Oh, that reminds me. You’re hosting Frankie’s bridal shower this weekend, aren’t you?”
“I am indeed. And I must admit, that was my real motive for seeking you out. I would very much appreciate your input on the event. And your help.”
“Oh?” Sienna’s eyebrows knitted. “But you don’t even know me. Why would you—?”
“I believe people always find the right path for themselves. Eventually.”
“Their path?” Sienna didn’t understand.
“It’s not always the one you expect to find, is it? Sometimes it simply presents itself.”
Sienna pondered that and drank more of her lemonade. After drizzling her scone with honey, she said, “You certainly have an interesting communication style. You make it sound as if I’ve always been on my way here.”
“Perhaps you have.” Calliope settled in her chair. “Butterfly Harbor is many things to many people, Sienna. But most of all, it’s given so many a home, a place to belong. We’re more than neighbors and patrons of businesses. We’re a family. And we recognize one of our own.” She frowned and touched a hand to her temple. “I’m sorry. Your difficult day is about to get more trying. Your phone.”
“I turned it off,” Sienna admitted. “After my bank hung up on me.” The bank. She supposed she was going to have to hire an attorney.
“Yes. You need to turn it back on.” Calliope sat forward and motioned to Sienna’s bag. “Please.”
“All right.” She pulled out her phone and did as Calliope said. It started ringing immediately. The number wasn’t familiar, but at Calliope’s silent urging, she answered. “Hello?”
“Sienna, it’s Frankie.”
“Oh, hey, Frankie. I’m not late, am I?” She glanced at her watch. “I thought we were meeting at the firehouse before you left for San Francisco.”
“Where are you? You need to get to the hospital.”
“I’m at Calliope’s. The hospital?” She didn’t like the tone in Frankie’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“It’s your father. Monty took him into the ER with chest pains.”
Sienna’s ears roared. She tried to speak, tried to ask questions, but the fear that descended robbed her of anything other than panic.
“Sienna?”
“Yes.” When she looked down at her shaking hand, she saw Calliope had taken hold and was squeezing tight. “How...?” She swallowed hard. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know. I just think you need to get over there fast. Now, Sienna.”
* * *
MONTY STOOD JUST outside the curtained partition in the ER of Butterfly Harbor Memorial Hospital. He listened as Vincent Fairchild answered all the questions posed to him by nurses and then the attending physician, and Monty found himself wondering if Sienna was aware of her father’s previous health issues.
He stepped back as they wheeled a cardiac monitor into the cubicle, then found himself shaking his head at Vincent’s vociferous protests that soon died when the beeping on the monitor began sounding.
Paige Bradley, Deputy Fletcher Bradley’s wife and the supervising nurse on duty, stepped out from behind the curtain and motioned for Monty to follow her to the desk.
“Is he going to be all right?”
Paige tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her blond ponytail behind her ear. “I don’t want to speak for the doctor, and you’re not family, Monty. I’m sorry.”
He understood. He didn’t like it, but he got it. “His daughter should be here soon.”
“Then if she wants, I can talk to the two of you together.” She picked up her clipboard and rested it against the slight swell of her belly, pen poised to scribble. “Did he lose consciousness at all during the drive here?”
“No. No, I kept him talking. I should have given him something, shouldn’t I? An aspirin. I have it on my boats for emergencies like this. I just didn’t think—”
“There’s nothing to blame yourself for, Monty.” Paige gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I recertified you myself for your CPR and first aid training. You did the right thing, getting him in here.”
“So what’s happening now?”
“We’re going to monitor him for the next few hours. Once we get those results and the lab work back, we’ll have more information for you.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” A young man in scrubs joined them. “Monty, Mr. Fairchild is asking to talk to you.”
“Me?” Monty couldn’t have hidden his surprise if he’d tried. “Is that okay?” he asked Paige.
She nodded. “Just try not to get him excited. We want those readings as clear as possible. Keep in mind, we have given him a shot to help him relax, so he might not be as coherent as you’d expect. You know where the coffee station is, right?”
“Oh, I know. Spent too much time there on Christmas Eve,” Monty said, recalling spending a good portion of his holiday in the hospital when Frankie had been injured in that fire. “Thanks, Paige.”
“You bet.”
Given one didn’t knock on a curtain, Monty pulled back on the edge and peered around. “Mr. Fairchild?”
“Ah, good. Mr. Bettencourt—”
“Monty, please. And stop trying to sit up.” He placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder and kept him in place. “They need you to relax so they can get
an accurate reading on what’s going on with your heart. You wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes.” He sagged back against the pillows, his skin still pale and blotchy. He tried to catch his breath. The beeps on the machine were erratic. Then, as he seemed to focus on his breathing, he finally calmed down. “This stupid heart of mine hates me. Always has.” He turned his head on the anemic pillow and offered a weak smile. “I bet, after spending some time with my daughter, you’re surprised to learn that I have a heart.”
Monty’s lips twitched. “I did wonder.” In truth, he was more surprised to discover Vincent Fairchild had a sense of humor. “You’ve hurt her. A lot.”
The man seemed to be aging in front of Monty’s eyes. “A lot of things go through a man’s mind when he thinks he’s about to die. None of them are good. I’ve been a selfish man my entire adult life. Building up the business, making something lasting that would continue on after my death—it’s all that’s been important to me for as long as I can remember.”
Monty bit the inside of his cheek.
“You disapprove,” Vincent said without looking away from him. “You think I’m a stupid fool who should have realized the only thing that mattered was Sienna.”
The old man got it in one. But rather than piling on, Monty shrugged. “It’s not my place—”
“It has to be someone’s place. After my wife died, it was my mother who tried, but since she’s been gone, I don’t know.” Vincent shook his head. “I don’t think Sienna was the only one to lose her tether. I know you’ll find this difficult to believe, but I do love my daughter, Monty.”
“All right.” Monty was willing to humor him. For now.
“I know it doesn’t seem so. All the damage I’ve done. I thought I was making her strong, making her a survivor. Someone who could take on anything life threw at her.”
“She is all those things, sir,” Monty replied, unable to resist pointing that out. “She’s an incredible woman, with a big heart and a thirst for adventure. She’s smart and funny and embraces life with her entire being.” She was, in Monty’s eyes at least, perfect. Perfect for him. “She’s amazing.”
Bride on the Run--A Clean Romance Page 19