A Woman with Secrets

by Inglath Cooper

  He crossed the room, stopping just behind her. She could smell the soft lift of his cologne, an intoxicating blend of lime and some ingredient she couldn’t identify. She closed her eyes to bank its effect.

  But then she felt his breath on her neck. His lips brushed the lobe of her ear, settled at the base of her throat. “Cole—”

  “Okay,” he said, retreating, even as he tipped her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. “Here’s the offer. There’s somewhere I’d like you to go with me. Just for the day. If you still want to leave after we get back, I won’t try to convince you otherwise.”

  “Where?” she asked, curiosity weakening her resolve.

  “That part’s a surprise. But I promise. You won’t regret it.”

  She glanced at her open suitcase waiting on the bed. Then back to Cole’s hopeful face. What else could she say but yes?

  * * *

  MARGO HAD SOMEHOW let herself be talked into a picnic on the beach with Harry.

  Obviously, her platform of resistance needed a little fine-tuning. But she really had meant what she’d said last night. Harry had been more than clear with his intentions.

  They sat on the sand under a giant umbrella, a blanket spread out in front of them with an assortment of food that would easily feed a party of eight.

  “You actually talked the hotel restaurant into making fried chicken.”

  “Took some persuadin’,” Harry said, “but no picnic’s complete without it.”

  “That would be the Georgia boy in you,” she said, unable to resist teasing him.

  “Reckon so.” He reached for the bowl and passed it to her.

  She took out a piece, pulled off a small bite, the outer coat crispy and delicious. “Mmm.”

  “Glad you like it, ma’am,” he said with a nod.

  Along with the chicken, there were fluffy golden biscuits and mashed potatoes so good she could not resist a second helping. They washed it all down with a light white wine that tasted sharp and tangy and exactly right.

  She took another sip and looked at Harry. “That was wonderful.”

  “We’re not quite done yet,” he said and pulled out a tin of cookies.

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” she said, holding one hand to her stomach.

  He took the lid off and waved them in front of her. “White chocolate macadamia nut.”

  “This is wicked, you know,” she said, taking one.

  “I specifically ordered them without calories.”

  “Oh, well, that settles it then.” She took a bite of the cookie, closing her eyes and making a soft sound of approval. “That should be illegal.”

  “It probably is somewhere or other,” he said, laughing.

  She looked at him then, something warm and a little alarming unfurling in the center of her chest. “I have a feeling you should be as well,” she said with no idea how that note of flirtation had gotten in her voice.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He reached across, made a gentle swiping motion on her chin with his thumb. “You have just a bit of cookie right there.”

  “Is it gone?”

  “Almost,” he said, his voice changing to velvet. “There’s one more little piece,” he added, leaning in until his mouth was mere inches away, “just here.”

  With that he brushed his lips across hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she willed him not to pull back.

  And he didn’t.

  The kiss was as light as the landing of a butterfly, and still its effect on her completely devastating. She wondered how this was possible, and her mind veered off down the path of chemical explanation. Maybe that was what determined physical attraction, two similar makeups wandering around in search of each other until they eventually crossed paths and felt the pull like a magnet to steel. An old song with those exact words in the lyrics flitted through her head, and she thought maybe it didn’t take a degree in physics to have figured this out.

  He put one hand to the side of her face and deepened the kiss. There was sweetness there, not something she would have expected from a man who wasn’t interested in taking the obvious anywhere past the obvious. All the same, it was there. The protective barrier she’d put in place last night proved worthless under this particular kind of assault, and she realized in a moment of clarity that she was in over her head.

  “Margo.”

  Her father’s voice penetrated the haze of pleasure clouding her brain. She sat up quickly, knocking over the cup of iced tea sitting on the quilt next to her. It flowed forward to be absorbed by the leg of Harry’s swimming trunks. She jumped to her feet, grabbing a stack of napkins from the picnic basket and handing them to him. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s just tea,” Harry returned, looking up at her father with a charming grin that clearly failed to charm him.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” her father said, dismissing Harry with a look. “I have the rental Jeep waiting at the back of the hotel.”

  “I thought we were meeting at three,” she said, glancing at her watch to see that it was only one-thirty.

  “There’s a lot to see. I had hoped we could leave sooner than planned.”

  She glanced at Harry, then back at her father whose eyes snapped with disapproval. “All right,” she said, brushing sand from her shorts and slipping her feet into her sandals. “Thank you for the lunch, Harry.” This, she added without looking at him.

  “Oh, you’re quite welcome,” he said in a voice that dripped amusement. “It was all my pleasure.”

  She could actually feel her father bristle. She took his arm and steered him toward the hotel.

  “Margo, what are you doing with a man like that?” he asked in a stern voice.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Harry was still watching them. It was clear from the look on his face that he’d heard the question. And she wasn’t sure who she was angrier with. Her father for asking it. Or herself for not knowing the answer.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The eye never forgets what the heart has seen.

  —Bantu Proverb

  COLE RENTED A Jeep from the hotel, and he and Kate drove into town to buy a few things. By the time he’d filled two buggies with fresh fruits and vegetables, a couple dozen boxes of cereal, cases of canned beans and tomatoes, a half dozen gallons of milk and a dozen packs of Oreo cookies, Kate looked at him as if he’d gone over the edge.

  He wasn’t willing to enlighten her just yet, so he shrugged and said, “You’ll see,” by way of explanation.

  They drove away from town, up into the mountains. The road was narrow and curvy, the Jeep slowing to a crawl on a few of the hairpin turns. They’d left the top off, and the breeze caught Kate’s blond hair, whipping it high about her face. He remembered how it had felt like silk in his hands last night.

  They did very little talking throughout the drive, the silence between them comfortable, as if they’d known each other a long time. He couldn’t explain this any more than he could explain what was happening to him where she was concerned.

  Though he’d made this drive countless times in the past two years, he’d never taken anyone along with him. Actually, he’d never even told anyone that he’d been to this place. It was a secret of sorts, something he did to put himself in the middle of something that mattered.

  He wasn’t sure what it meant that he’d decided to bring Kate along today, although he would admit that it did mean something. More, he thought, than just a way to keep her from leaving. But if it did manage to accomplish that, he couldn’t deny that he would be glad.

  Thirty minutes or so after leaving town, he turned the vehicle onto a dirt road. Dust billowed up behind them. A couple of minutes later, the two-story stucco building appeared ahead. Groups of children played outside in the front yard, patches of grass interspersed with larger spots of dirt. One group appeared to be playing Red Rover, their dark skin glistening with the sweat of their enthusiasm, their smiles and laughter ringing out.


  A small sign by the entrance gate read, Santa Maria Home For Children.

  He cut the Jeep’s engine and only then risked a look at Kate.

  She stared at the children for a long time before she looked at him. “How do you know about this place?” she asked, her voice soft and low.

  “When I first started coming to the island, I came across a little boy down near the marina one morning. He was going through the garbage cans looking for food. I learned later that his mother had died a few weeks before, and he had no other relatives. Their house was confiscated to pay for her medical bills, so he had nowhere to go. I started asking around and found out about this place. Scott Dillon, an American, started it ten years ago. He operates on a shoestring, but he does a lot of good.”

  “Wow,” she said. “You do know how to surprise a girl.”

  “Come on,” he said, getting out of the Jeep. “I’ll introduce you.”

  She got out and followed him across the dirt parking lot to the area where the kids were playing. A couple of them spotted Cole and came running. Louis, now seven years old, launched himself at Cole, arms clamping around his neck, legs locking around his waist.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said. Several of the other children threw themselves at him as well, and he was filled with the same warmth and gratitude he always felt when he came here.

  “Will you give us piggyback rides, Cole?” Louis asked, pulling back to look at him with a wide grin on his face.

  “Absolutely. First, I need to speak with Mr. Dillon and unload a few things we brought along. Then we’ll get to the important stuff.”

  He let Louis slide to the ground, turning to find Kate lingering several yards away.

  They walked back to the Jeep, gathered up a few of the bags and headed inside the building. Scott’s office lay at the end of a short hallway. Cole set the bags down and knocked at the door.

  “Come in,” he called out.

  Cole stuck his head inside. Scott sat behind a seen-better-days desk, what looked like a pile of bills spread out before him. He smiled immediately. “Cole,” he said. “Come in, please.”

  “I’ve brought someone with me today,” he said, stepping aside to beckon Kate forward. She walked into the office and stuck out her hand.

  “I’m Kate Winthrop.”

  “Scott Dillon. I’m glad you could come with Cole.”

  Kate nodded once, her gaze taking in the small office, lingering on the photos covering the wall behind him. They were pictures of the children, playing, laughing, hugging, happy, sixty or more frames altogether. The first time Cole had seen them, he’d felt as if his eyes had been opened to something he’d never before been aware of. He could see from the look on Kate’s face that the same was true for her.

  “Please, sit,” Scott said, waving a hand at the two chairs in front of his desk.

  They sat down, and Scott began to ask about their trip.

  “We had a little trouble with the boat,” Cole said. “We’re staying at the Ocean Breeze.”

  “Very nice,” Scott said. “Is this your first trip to Tango Island, Kate?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

  “That it is. And impossible to forget once you’ve been here. I first came just over a decade ago and somehow never managed to leave.”

  “I can see why,” Kate said. “Cole said you started the orphanage?”

  He nodded and sat back in his chair, hands laced across his middle. “There was such a need,” he said. “The island really has no social safety net, and during my first trip here, I discovered there were six-year-old children living completely on their own. It’s amazing, actually, how well they managed to fend for themselves, but they needed a place to call home.”

  Kate glanced out the window where a group of children were playing tag. “How many children live here?”

  “About thirty right now.”

  “Are they ever adopted?”

  Scott sighed. “Rarely.”

  She nodded, obviously troubled by his answer. Cole wondered for a moment if he’d been wrong to bring her here. “We brought some supplies,” he said. “We’d better get them out of the car.”

  “Thanks, Cole,” Scott said. “I’ll help.”

  The three of them walked back to the Jeep and gathered up the rest of the bags, then carried them to the orphanage kitchen. Two older women with dark skin and lined faces smiled at them, nodding their thanks for the food, then put it away.

  They went back to the front of the building where Louis and the others greeted them with stored-up exuberance. They were immediately recruited into a game of dodgeball, and there was enough laughing and teasing to boost the most jaded of individuals.

  At one point, Kate and Scott both declared themselves in need of a break. They retired to the sidelines while Louis dragged Cole back out for more. And the truth was, he didn’t mind at all.

  * * *

  KATE AND SCOTT sat on the low rock wall that stretched across one side of the playground. They were silent for a good bit, watching as Cole carted a clinging trio of boys from one end of the yard to the other, their giggles more than adequate proof of their happiness.

  “How long have you known Cole?” Scott asked after a bit.

  She smiled. “Not very long.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re friends?”

  “I think so.” She realized how that must sound. But the truth was, right now, she wasn’t really sure what they were.

  He appeared to consider this, then said, “You must be good friends for him to bring you here. This place has been a comfort for him.”

  Keeping her gaze on Cole and the boys, she asked, “How so?”

  “Maybe he feels that here his efforts matter,” Scott said. “And they do.”

  “I can see that.” With these boys, Cole was a different man from the one she’d seen to this point. Here, he held nothing back. She wondered if he’d been like that with his daughter. This open and caring.

  “They are so pure, these children,” Scott said. “I guess that’s what drew me to them. They take what they are given with genuine gratitude and never expect or demand another thing.”

  “What did you do before you came here?” she asked.

  “Oh, I was this corporate guy. Finally made it to the top after twenty years of grabbing and clawing. One day, I woke up to the realization that I would just as soon die as put in one more hour of that relentless grind. I bought a sailboat and pretty much let it pick its own course. We ended up here.”

  “You and Cole seem to have a lot in common.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess that’s another one of our connections.”

  “Do you have a family?” she asked.

  Scott let his gaze sweep across the playground. “They are my family.”

  After a while, Scott rejoined Cole for a round of piggyback rides. Kate stayed where she was, thinking about what he’d said. Of how fulfilling it must be to get up every day knowing that what you did would truly matter in the life of others.

  Sitting there, she realized with a sudden wave of emptiness that this was missing in her own life. She got up every morning to the same meaningless beat, wandering through the day with nothing more monumental to think about than her own need to avenge her ex-husband’s betrayal.

  The uselessness of this left a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth. She knew with a blinding clarity that she wanted her life to matter. She wanted to reach the end of her walk on this earth able to see that she had somehow made a difference. That her time here was not a complete waste.

  She didn’t know why Cole had brought her here, but she was so glad that he had. It felt as if a light had been switched on inside her, the darkness of all her doubts illuminated so that she could see them for what they were.

  So she was not what her father wanted her to be. So she’d married a man who turned out to be a mistake. But she knew in the deepest part of her soul that from this day forward, she was going t
o take a different road. Find out what she had to offer. She’d once heard someone say the value of a life could be measured by whether a person had somehow made a difference in the world. If that was so, she had a lot of catching up to do.

  * * *

  THEY SPENT THE rest of the day playing with the children, even taking a group of six or seven of the older ones on a hike through the woods behind the orphanage. Cole was the engine, Kate the caboose. They wound their way through the dapples of sunlight that broke through the tall trees. By the time they reached the turnaround point where they sat in a circle and snacked on bananas and water, they were all sweaty and tired. They sat for a good while, telling stories and singing songs. Kate wanted to freeze their time there and keep it from slipping through her fingers.

  Every now and then, she felt Cole’s gaze on her. She was reluctant to look at him, maybe for fear that too much would show in her face. Things she wasn’t sure she could even put a label on. When she finally let herself look up, he smiled. She smiled back, and it was amazing how something this simple could make her feel as if an entire world were opening up before her, a world she’d never even thought to imagine.

  They were halfway back to the orphanage when Kate stumbled over a tree root and barely managed to catch herself before hitting the hard-packed dirt path.

  Cole grabbed her arm. “Whoa, there.”

  “Graceful, huh?” she said.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. New feet and all.”

  He smiled again. Offered her his hand. For a moment, she wondered if he was just being kind, but then decided that even if he were, she didn’t have it in her to decline his graciousness. She slipped her hand into his, and they walked the rest of the way back just like that.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  One meets his destiny often in the road he takes to avoid it.

  —French Proverb

  DRIVING AWAY FROM THE orphanage, Cole looked at Kate and said, “What did you think?”

  “Where should I start?”

  “Wherever you’d like,” he said, steering the Jeep around a narrow curve.