CHAPTER FIVE
Brittany’s prayers to save her baby went unanswered. She left the hospital later that day, feeling empty and sad. One of the nurses had explained that a miscarriage this early on usually was caused by chromosomal anomalies, not by anything she did or could have done. It might be true, but she would never know for certain. Perhaps if she hadn’t gone for the run this morning? If she hadn’t gotten so emotionally upset over Jose’s betrayal, might things be different?
She looked the same, yet her life had changed drastically.
Her mother had spent hours in the waiting room, so she was there to bring her home. As always, Anna did what she did best—picked up the pieces of their broken lives and put them back together again.
Brittany cried when she saw her, and enveloped her small mother in a big embrace. They sobbed together for several agonizing minutes, then Anna pushed out of her arms. “Are you going to be all right, honey?”
“I don’t know.” Brittany answered honestly. “How can I be?”
A month ago she’d have been distraught at the idea of having a baby, especially without Jose’s full support. She loved the dance company, touring around the nation, living the high life. Even getting high. The dance world was not for the faint-hearted. There was a seediness that infiltrated many elements of the glamorous, exotic lifestyle.
It was expected that the women would be rail-thin beauties and they sometimes used illegal substances to stay that way. Drugs, alcohol, infidelity and treachery were part of the norm. Only the very young newbies raised a delicate brow when first confronted with this unpleasantness.
After two years in Miami, Brittany was a pro. She knew the ropes and accepted the good with the bad. She had stopped taking the pill because it caused weight gain. She had switched to a NuvaRing as it only needed to be inserted once a month, and was easy and convenient to use. There was only a one-to-three percent risk factor of becoming pregnant while using it correctly, and she’d been the unlucky one.
When the cab arrived, Brittany and her mother sat together in the back seat holding hands. The drive home from the hospital seemed longer than usual and they talked little. Anna helped her like an invalid from the cab to the door. “Go lay down and rest,” she said softly, “you’ve been through a terrible ordeal which only time will heal.”
“I will. Please tell everyone how sorry I am.”
“Oh, my dear girl. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. This is not your fault. Don’t ever blame yourself.”
“But I do,” she cried, running for the privacy of her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her and fell on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. Her mother was wise enough to leave her alone with her agony.
The pregnancy had been a mistake, plain and simple, but her unknown baby had paid the biggest price.
Guilt weighed heavily on her, and in the following days she stayed housebound. She didn’t want to socialize with their guests. She needed time to heal and time to grieve. Her sisters and Mom did everything they could to ease her mind and help mend her heart, but she hadn’t been prepared for the curve ball life had thrown her. Pregnant one minute. Then just as she got used to the idea—not.
“Brittany, I have brought you some lunch.” Juanita Hernandez pulled the curtains back allowing sunshine to fill the room.
Juanita was like a second mother to Brittany and her sisters. Her love and concern went far beyond that of an employee and none of them treated her or Miguel like they were. The family had come to Paradise Cove after a rescue at sea. They’d been fleeing Cuba for a better life, and Juanita had been seven months pregnant. Anna and the girls had sheltered the Hernandez family until baby Merica was born. After a year living with their relatives in Miami, they’d returned to Paradise Cove to work at the resort.
Juanita had the patience of a saint, but Brittany knew that she usually got what she wanted. Behind the gentle facade, Juanita hid an iron will, and a backbone of steel.
“I don’t want to eat.” Brittany turned her nose from the bowl of homemade chicken and rice soup still steaming from Taylor’s kitchen. “My stomach is too upset for food.” This was the third day since coming home from the hospital and she had no appetite.
“Nonsense.” Juanita clicked her teeth, determined to feed Brittany. “You must eat, my girl. Taylor made this delicious chicken soup from scratch. Just for you.” She brushed strands of hair from Brittany’s hot cheeks. “It is good. Try a little.”
“No, thank you, Juanita.” Brittany patted the woman’s hand. “I know you’re all worried about me, but I’m fine.” Not fine, but I won’t die from grief. “Really.”
“It is hot in here. You don’t even have the fan on. And your eyes are red and puffy from crying.” She used her knuckles to graze Brittany’s cheek. “Poor baby.”
“I don’t feel up to being myself right now. Tomorrow I’ll eat, and move around. I promise. But today I just want to lie here and sleep.” She felt a flash of temper, the first feeling she’d had besides sorrow in days. “Surely I can have another day or two?” Her voice rose. “Can’t you give me a break?”
Juanita dotted Brit’s face with a cool cloth. “You must take a shower even if you don’t feel up to it. You don’t want to get an infection. Let me help.”
“No.” Brittany pulled the sheet up higher, just under her chin. “Leave me alone. Please, Juanita?”
Juanita looked at her for a long minute, as if trying to make up her mind. “I will be back in a few hours. When I return, I want the soup in your belly, and you sitting up, fresh and clean, like the sweet young woman I know.”
“I’m not that girl anymore.” She felt listless. Used up and discarded. Couldn’t do anything right. Not even keep a baby.
“Yes, you are. And you always will be.” Juanita’s expression was fierce. “It’s here.” She touched Brittany’s chest, her finger pointing to her heart. “It’s right here. The beautiful person you are.”
“Oh, Juanita.” Hot, fresh tears coursed down her chapped cheeks. “I have got to stop crying, but I can’t. I can’t!”
“Then I will stay and cry with you.” And she did.
After Brittany had no tears left, Juanita hand-fed her, and then gave her a sponge-bath and changed her sheets. “There, there. Would you like to sit up?”
“Thanks, Juanita, but I’m exhausted and want to go back to sleep.” Her full tummy made her drowsy.
“Your mother will be home in a few hours. She’ll be glad to see that you ate.”
“Thank Taylor for the soup,” she said, subdued. No fight left. “But my stomach is still queasy.”
“I’ll tell her, but you can too—I’m sure she’ll drop in before she leaves today.” Juanita looked out the window. “Oh, oh. Here comes that man again. Mr. Chase. He asked about you yesterday, and again this morning.” She smiled at Brittany. “You want to see him? He’s very handsome.”
“No.” She had no energy for being polite. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Tell him I’m resting, trying to sleep.”
“I’ll do that.” Juanita left the bedroom and walked down the hall to open the front door of the cottage.
Brittany listened to the conversation, and couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m sorry, Mister Chase, but she is sleeping now. She hopes to be feeling better tomorrow. Perhaps you can try again then.”
“I will.” Brittany heard the concern in his voice, and felt bad for it. If he hadn’t been there to help her, what would she have done?
“I brought flowers,” he said in his soft drawl.
“That was very nice. I’ll put this vase next to her bed and she’ll see them when she wakes.”
“Thank you, Juanita.”
Brittany sat up as Juanita popped in with the dozen yellow roses. “They are lovely,” she said, with a catch in her voice. The bright yellow flowers did cheer her up. “It was very kind of him.”
“Yes. It was.” Juanita fiddled with the arrangement for a moment. “Did you want your mother to
let Jose know about the baby?”
Her head jerked up. “No!” She clasped the sheet with shaking fingers. “He made it clear that it was over and wasn’t interested in either the baby or me.” She sniffed. “He hasn’t called me, and I have no plans to speak with him ever again.”
Juanita squeezed her shoulder. “You are very much loved, and he is not worthy.”
“Amen to that.”
* * *
Ashley Jordon Chase returned to his cottage, glad he’d bought the flowers but disappointed he hadn’t been able to see Brittany. Having been the one to find her on the beach, holding on to her baby, gave him reason to feel protective of her now.
Yet it was more than that. He grieved for her too. It was all so personal, and had opened up old wounds that he’d fought hard to bury and overcome.
His ex-wife had been inconsolable every month when her period came. He’d cried with her, wanting a child as much as she had. After a few heartbreaking years when she’d been unable to conceive, he’d given her Max, the Corgi pup, hoping that might comfort her and be enough. But she’d never bonded with the dog, and had slowly turned away from him as well. They’d stayed together for six years, but eventually her love shriveled and died. The divorce had been inevitable, and the best thing for the two of them.
“Want a treat, Max?” The dog raced around the kitchen table as Chase tossed him a chewy rawhide. He hoped things would be different for Brittany, that she wouldn’t grow cold and bitter, losing her baby, and no man around. Whoever had knocked her up, well, he’d made himself scarce when she needed him the most. Couldn’t be easy for her.
Beautiful girl, too. Chase opened the fridge and took out a beer. They all were—mother and her three daughters. How had they ended up here? Paradise Cove was a small family-owned resort, but he gathered by a few things that the maid, Juanita, had said, that they’d only taken it over a few years back. Anna didn’t have a husband at her side either. Even though the resort was small, twelve cottages counting the one that Anna and Brittany lived in, they also had a restaurant, ran fishing charters, and chauffeured their guests around Islamorada, and offered airport pickups. They all worked very hard. It wasn’t an easy life, that’s for sure.
Miguel, Juanita’s husband, did all the outdoor work, including gardening and repairs. The afternoon that Brittany had lost her baby, Chase had been trying to get some work done on his new play, but he’d sat before the laptop for hours without a word being written. Juanita had stopped by to change his sheets and towels, giving him the bad news. While she worked, she told him about the family, the wild and crazy rescue at sea, and how they owed their lives to Kayla’s husband, Doctor Sean, and to the entire family. She called them “angels from heaven” and he could see that in her eyes they were all that and more.
Chase drank the dark brew and shook his head. Brittany didn’t look like an angel. She was pure temptress. Long shapely legs, curly dark hair down to her heart-shaped butt, tiny breasts that looked to be a mouthful, and flashing brown eyes that sparkled.
Or had, until a few days ago. Now, he’d bet that the sparkle had burned out. He took another drink of his beer, pulled down memory lane. His wife had always blamed him, believing he was the reason she couldn’t conceive. The doctor had finally told her differently, but by then their marriage was over. Too much pain and blame had killed any hope of recovering from this devastating news. Funny thing was—he’d wished it had been him. The grief in his wife’s eyes had cut him deep, and he’d have saved her that pain.
Chase opened the screen door and took Max outside with him. He sat in one of the Adirondack rocker chairs, the dog at his feet. Pelicans flew in formation overhead to land on the pilings next to the pier. No pelicans in New York City, or the pond on the family plantation. Weird-looking birds with their long curved beaks and pouches, perfect for fishing.
Max nudged his knee, so Chase leaned over to give the dog a good scratch behind the ears, then straightened up to watch the fishing boats return to the dock. A group of guys unloaded from one of the charters, dragging their prize fish with them in long coolers of ice.
He’d never cottoned to fishing. When was the last time he’d slowed down long enough to catch up with his own thoughts? When his mom passed? After his wife had left him, he’d run from deep thinking, pouring his hurt into work. It was just easier that way.
Chase pet Max’s furry head. The women in his life had always been important to him. His mother, his wife, his baby sister. And now Brittany. He sensed she needed a friend.
He was a loner by nature, but the past decade working for an ad agency had nullified that. He’d been forced to be aggressive, outgoing, to use his creativity to sell well-disguised garbage to the nation, like sugary cereals that he’d never give a dog, let alone kids. He’d sold out, wanting to make his wife happy. A home in the suburbs with lots of bedrooms and a nice backyard for the children they never had. He worked in the city, taking the train in and out every day, twelve-hour days at a job he had no taste for.
He’d told Brittany half the truth. After a horrendous year of backstabbing amongst his co-workers, he’d handed in his resignation. His boss refused to accept it, telling him to take a month’s vacation, get his head on straight, then come back to work.
He had one month to either write his play, become the professional he’d always hoped to be, or go back to the dog-eat-dog world he wanted desperately to leave behind. He didn’t like poverty. Not that he’d ever known it—but it was too late in his mid-thirties to do that whole starving artist routine. He needed a career that paid in hard cash, not pipe dreams.
“Enough!” Chase rose from the chair and headed back inside to the laptop, determined to push empathy for Brittany’s loss aside and find the words to create a fantasy that might make her smile.
CHAPTER SIX
One week after her miscarriage, Brittany decided to stop punishing herself with “what ifs”. She got out of bed early, dressed in her fitness clothes and went for a long walk on the beach. It felt good to be out in the fresh air and to stretch her legs once more.
Being a professional dancer, her body was toned and fit, and used to being pushed to the limit. After a half mile of walking, she picked up the pace and did a light jog toward the end of the beach, where a bridge gapped the distance from one Key to the next.
Stronger in body and spirit, it was time to start living again.
She passed Chase on her way back to the resort, out for his own run. His adorable dog ran two steps ahead, and then back again, as if to make sure Chase wasn’t falling behind.
All kinds of things flashed through her. Gratitude, embarrassment, wishing she could avoid this conversation altogether. None of those would work, so she smiled and stopped. “Hey! Who’s this cute fellow?” She bent over to pet the frisky dog, getting her emotions under control.
“That’s Max. He’s a Welsh Corgi, and is completely incorrigible.” Chase reached out to touch her forearm. “Good to see you out. Feeling better?”
“I am. Thank you.” She straightened and faced him. “The roses were beautiful. It was very kind of you.”
“Glad you liked them.” He took off his Bulldogs baseball cap and swiped his brow. “I’m real sorry about the miscarriage.”
She kicked at the sand. “Yeah. It sucked.” Glancing up, she looked into his beautiful emerald eyes. His finest feature in a most attractive face. His nose was long and lean, his chin strong. His light brown hair waved around his ears. He wasn’t jaw-dropping gorgeous like the black-haired, black-eyed Latin dancers she knew, but handsome in a less lethal way.
“It’s still hard, you know?” She stared out at the tranquil greenish-blue water. “I didn’t even know this baby, but I felt a connection unlike anything before. Probably because of my sisters and my mom. They wanted this baby so much, and then I did too.” She swallowed a lump in her throat, and took a sip from her water bottle.
“That’s understandable. It’s not just a physical loss, but emotional.�
�� He averted his gaze, rubbed a hand over his jaw, then said softly in his lazy drawl, “I know the hard way. I was married before. My wife wanted a baby more than she wanted me. Didn’t happen, and it broke her heart. Mine too.”
His words brought tears to her eyes. Her loss was fresh, while his had never gone away. “I’m sorry, Chase. That’s awful.”
“It was hard for both of us. She remarried, and adopted two children. A boy and a girl,” he said. “She’s happy now.”
“What about you?” Brittany kept herself from reaching for him to offer comfort as he had done for her. “Are you happy now?”
“Mostly. After she left I buried myself in my job. Got a lot of kudos. Good money in it. But the ad agency was not what I wanted. Never was. Never will be.”
She nodded, surprised that he’d opened up about something so deeply private. None of the men she knew would dare expose their feelings. Probably because they didn’t have any. Jerks!
Intrigued, she asked, “So what made you come here to write? It’s so hot this time of year I’d think you’d prefer a nice shaded deck somewhere, and a mountain stream. Like the Blue Ridge Mountains or something.”
He twisted the brim of his cap. “Right now, that does sound awfully good. But I’m a southern boy, use to the heat and humidity. Doesn’t bother me much. Especially since I sit in an air-conditioned room for hours on end.”
She cleared her throat. “That’s true, but Chase, I need to tell you something. It’s important.”
“What’s that?”
“Your dog is biting your foot.”
He laughed and looked down. “Max always does that when he wants me to get moving. Better than a personal trainer.” He flicked the small dog off, but undeterred, the Corgi went after his shoe laces.
“So, why have you written only one play?” If he wanted to ignore his dog, that was his problem.
PARADISE COVE - 3 BOOK SET: PARADISE COVE SERIES Page 50