Second Chance in Paradise

by Jennifer Peel

  Porter was taken aback by the gesture and the soft tones coming from his dad. The combination caused him to not reach for the photo immediately. But I swore it was like Mr. Clairborne’s eyes begged him to. Porter did take the picture and held it so both he and I could see it.

  “The first time I met you, you had both.” Natalie reminisced.

  Porter stared intently at his younger self. His thick hair was lighter, more of a sandy brown. He was sun-kissed and in swim trunks out on the beach. He clung to the tattered brown bear and the picture book with bears on the cover.

  “I don’t remember these,” he said to himself. But you could tell he longed to.

  “You insisted I read that book every night to you before you went to bed,” Mr. Clairborne smiled.

  Natalie moved next to him and brushed her hand through his hair. “I had to tape the pages together, it had become so worn.”

  Porter still continued to stare at the photo. “You said the first time you met me I had them. When was that?”

  Mr. and Mrs. Clairborne took the seats across from us, forgetting the delicious aroma that filled the room and that there was food to be eaten. They gave their full attention to their son.

  Natalie sighed. “You were upset and you had run away from your father.”

  Mr. Clairborne wore the look of panic he must have felt in that moment so long ago. “It was when we were living at the hotel, your . . . uh . . . mother . . .” A good dose of vitriol wove through his words when he referred to his ex-wife and Porter’s biological mother. “Anyway, it was only the two of us and I turned my back for one minute to answer a question and you were gone. I had every staff member looking for you. I don’t think I had ever been so scared in my life.”

  Natalie placed her hand over her husband’s hand on the table. “You had made your way to the spa. We were closing up and I heard this whimper under the check-in desk. There you were holding on to your teddy bear, crying. You refused to come out.” She smiled at the memory. “I recognized who you were so I sent one of my coworkers to find your dad while I crawled under the desk with you. Without a second thought, you snuggled right up next to me and asked me to read to you.”

  I glanced at Porter to gauge his reaction. He was looking thoughtfully at his parents, trying to remember. Mr. Clairborne looked at him as if he hoped he would remember.

  Natalie was all alight reminiscing. “Before I finished the book, your dad found us, but you refused to leave until I said the end.”

  Mr. Clairborne shook his head and even smiled. “From then on out I could hardly keep you from sneaking away to the spa to find your Natty.”

  “I think I remember calling you that now.” Porter grinned.

  “I was quite fond of the nickname.” Natalie returned her son’s smile. “And your visits. I started keeping cookies for you in one of the desk drawers.”

  Mr. Clairborne took his wife’s hand. “Well that explains it.”

  Porter cocked his head. “Were they Mexican wedding cookies?”

  “You remember.” Natalie was pleased. “I think I made a batch of those every week for three months. Especially when you started showing up every day.”

  “Yes, he became quite the escape artist,” Mr. Clairborne added. “After a while I didn’t mind though.” He held up his wife’s hand and kissed it. “It meant I got to see your beautiful face every day.”

  Natalie blushed.

  “I should’ve taken my son’s advice and asked you out earlier.”

  “My advice?” Porter questioned.

  “Every night before I would tuck you in you would tell me that you wanted Natty to be your new mommy.”

  Porter leaned back, astonished. I rested my hand on his thigh. His leg bounced nervously. This was obviously something he had forgotten.

  “And it still took you how many months to ask me out?” Natalie teased her husband.

  “As I remember, I think you were more keen on being with Porter than me.” Mr. Clairborne stated.

  “He made a much better first impression than you.” She tapped her husband’s nose.

  Mr. Clairborne’s cheeks reddened to my surprise. “Hey now, we promised to never discuss that.” He cleared his throat while his eyes implored his wife not to not say a word.

  Porter and I looked between each other wondering what the story was.

  Natalie gave her husband an impish grin. “Your secret is safe with me.” I guess we would never know. She focused back on Porter and gave him a wink. “You were and still are much cuter than your father was. Not to mention less brooding.”

  Porter smiled and placed his hand over mine. His thumb ran over my hand while he took this all in.

  “I don’t brood.” Mr. Clairborne defended himself.

  Natalie laughed at her husband while she playfully patted his cheeks. “Sure, you don’t.”

  Porter and I both laughed along with her.

  “Regardless,” Mr. Clairborne said, “marrying you was the best thing I ever did.”

  Natalie agreed with him and plucked another picture from the pile. She showed it to her husband, making him grin, before handing it over to Porter and me.

  This time Porter took the photo eagerly. We both stared at the loveliest couple ever getting married on the beach at sunset with the cutest little boy between them holding his new mommy’s hand.

  “Do you remember that day?” Natalie almost seemed afraid to ask.

  Porter touched his little self in the picture and nodded.

  Natalie choked up. “I don’t think you let go of my hand that entire night. You ended up going on our honeymoon with us.”

  “He did?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.

  Natalie nodded fondly while Mr. Clairborne half grimaced, half smiled. He obviously wasn’t a proponent of it.

  “I couldn’t bear to leave him.” Natalie spoke directly to Porter.

  I think what she really meant to say was, I can’t bear it if you leave again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “How much does Natalie know?” Porter’s lips landed on the hollow of my neck, making it hard to think.

  After all these years, we finally took a dip in his pool. We were hiding behind the cover of the waterfall and the dark of night. I drew myself closer against him in the water, taking in the feel of his wet, bare chest and the way my hands felt burying themselves in his thick hair. His kisses had me leaning my head back making sure he didn’t miss a spot on my neck.

  “Everything,” I whispered, hoping not to break the spell Porter had me under. The Clairborne men were silly to think she didn’t know exactly what was going on with the resort.

  Porter responded by ravishing my lips. His hungry kisses were making up for lost time until he groaned and pulled away. He took a deep breath and let it out. He buried himself in the water, popping up a moment later. His eyes still flared with desire. My body was singing with it.

  “It’s getting harder and harder to tear myself away from you.” He took my hand and kissed my fingertips.

  “Should I go to the other side of the pool?”

  He pulled me to him, keeping a small barrier between us. “Don’t you dare. I’ll behave. Mostly.”

  “I could tell you some fun facts about water if that would help. Did you know that thirty-one percent of our bones are made of water?”

  “I didn’t know that.” He laughed

  My fingers skimmed his lips. I loved seeing him smile. “You seem happier tonight.”

  “I’m with you, of course I’m happy.”

  My fingers moved in slow motion down his neck and traced his shoulders, leaving a trail of raised skin. “I think it’s more than that.”

  “You’re all I need.”

  “That’s not true. You need your family and they need you.”

  He looked toward the water cascading around us.

  “You had to see that tonight.” I drew his attention back to me.

  “I know, Holland, but I wonder if I will ever be able to mak
e it up to them, especially to my dad.”

  “You’re trying to make amends, and you are. And you’re not the only one that made mistakes.”

  “But I’m the one that left.”

  “I remember.”

  The back of his hand glided down my cheek. “I wish I wouldn’t have.”

  I took his hand, wishing I could make him feel better. “You know, in science we have what are called paradigm shifts. Paradigm shifts don’t only modify an existing scientific theory, they radically alter it. Take, for example, Newton’s theory. It states that time and space were the same everywhere for all observers, versus Einstein’s theory, which found that time and space are relative to the observer’s frame of reference. Einstein’s theory is more precise, or what we like to call elegant.”

  He arched his eyebrow, obviously curious about where I was going.

  “Your family is going through a paradigm shift. There are some anomalies that have occurred that can no longer be ignored, which will hopefully lead all of you to a radically new way of thinking and behaving.”

  “And how should we think, Holland Reeves?”

  I placed my hand over his heart. “Not that I do a good job of this, but you should think more with this. I think you might see your life and parents in a whole new light.”

  He placed his hand over mine and pressed it against his beating heart. “How about you? How do you see things?”

  I peered into his eyes and took my time basking in the glow of them. “I see me and you.”

  ~*~

  It appeared Porter and I weren’t the only ones thinking more with our heart. Mr. Clairborne asked Porter before he left for work on Friday if he wanted to participate in a beach volleyball tournament taking place the next day on the north shore. It was something they had done together while Porter was in high school. Porter didn’t hesitate to accept, and Natalie almost burst into tears over it.

  Not only that, I noticed Porter had taken all the pictures from the table and they were spread across the desk in his room. He was refusing to commit to whether or not he was using his parents’ story for the Clairborne campaign, but he wasn’t saying no either. Though he was still taking pictures of us together no matter what we were doing, even if it was going for frozen yogurt with Charlotte after school on Friday. We got to hear all about how her posters were a hit and that her biology teacher seemed pleased with her science project she had turned in that day. She wouldn’t know her grade for a couple of weeks. If I had to make an educated guess, I would say it was a solid A. If not, I would be having words with her teacher.

  Friday night, I had the pleasure of watching the Clairborne family play volleyball on the beach behind their home. It was the men versus the women. Porter and Mr. Clairborne wanted to get in some practice before the tournament. I got to keep score since my ankle was in no shape for playing and I hadn’t played since I was forced to take P.E. as a sophomore in high school. And if memory served me correctly, I was awful at it. Besides, keeping score meant I could admire Porter as much as I liked.

  I should also mention how unfair it was that one family had so many beautiful inherent gene traits. Not only were they gorgeous, but they had athletic ability to go with it. I had known Porter did. I had seen him play before, but the entire family could have played at the collegiate level by the looks of it. I had been afraid that the teams were unevenly matched, but Natalie and Charlotte held their own against the men in their family.

  Not surprisingly, Charlotte was the queen of smack talk. Especially when it was directed toward her brother. “If I’d wanted soft serve I would’ve gone to the ice cream shop,” she taunted him after what I considered an excellent serve. It went over the net. Wasn’t that good?

  “I was going easy on you. I’d hate for you to break a nail,” Porter threw back at her.

  “Are you upset I play like a girl? You could too if you tried a little harder.”

  Natalie liked that one and high-fived her daughter.

  Porter didn’t retaliate with words, but with a spike that earned them a point. It was the men’s turn to fist bump. It was so good to see father and son getting along. I especially loved the shouts of praise Mr. Clairborne lobbed his son’s way. That more than anything, I believe, had Porter playing well. They edged out Natalie and Charlotte two out of the three sets.

  The energy and camaraderie between father and son continued into the next day for the tournament. Natalie and I made sure to get as close as we could to the action. I was beginning to wonder if being gorgeous was a requirement to play beach volleyball. This was a mixed gender tournament and all the women and men deserved to grace the cover of a sports magazine. Their golden bodies glimmered in the bright sun. And there was plenty of body showing. How some of the women kept their breasts inside their bikini tops almost defied the laws of physics.

  The tournament was a blind draw, single elimination. Twenty-seven teams had signed up. Porter and Mr. Clairborne would have to win five rounds to make it to the championship. We had no idea how long we would be there, but Natalie came prepared with snacks, drinks, and plenty of sunscreen for me, the only pale person within a hundred-mile radius.

  Natalie and I sat side-by-side on portable beach chairs. Charlotte had better things to do, as she put it. Prom was two weeks away and it took a lot of preparation, apparently. Natalie and I compared notes.

  “I told Beau I knew he asked Porter to come and why.”

  “How did that go?”

  “I don’t think he was too surprised by it. It’s hard to keep things from me. He acted like it was no big deal and he had everything under control. He has every confidence that things will turn around. But I reminded him that Porter being his son came first, that he needed to separate work and family.”

  “That was good advice. He seems to have taken it.”

  “What’s Porter saying?”

  “He’s cautious. On one hand, he’s happy. He mentioned last night after your family volleyball game that it made him feel like he had come home. But . . .” I hated to burst her happy bubble. “I know there’s some head butting still going on in regard to the marketing campaign Porter has come up with. The way Porter puts it is, Mr. Clairborne likes to stay in the box, and we both know Porter feels like the box suffocates him.”

  Natalie blew out a deep breath. “What can we do? One thing Beau is not good at is letting go. The Clairborne is his pride and joy. When he took it over from his parents, he breathed a lot of life into it, making it more successful than it had ever been. I remember how hard that was on his own father. Now history has repeated itself. I’ll give him a gentle reminder.” She didn’t sound like it would be gentle at all. “You tell my son not to give up.”

  I nodded before we both turned our attention to the men we were conspiring for. What a sight it was. Porter’s agile, sinewy body only covered by swim trunks and sunglasses walked its way over to me. The beach looked good on him. No matter how good he had looked in the snow with the mountains for his backdrop, it wasn’t him. This place was him. And when he bent down to kiss me for good luck, he made me feel like my place was with him.

  Now to see if the two places could become one.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Porter and his dad wore their first-place medals everywhere, even to church on Sunday. It was nowhere near as obnoxious as the four-foot trophy with a gold volleyball that was proudly displayed on the kitchen table. I caught Porter and his dad kissing it. Natalie didn’t mind one bit that it didn’t match the decor. That trophy represented hope. Hope that the fences would be mended and that Porter would stay.

  I watched Natalie throughout the Easter services. Her head was bowed often. There was no doubt in my mind what she was praying for.

  Porter too seemed to be contemplating life as he held my hand. I couldn’t remember the last time I went to church. It was probably with Jaycee and her family. And Jaycee happened to be there with her new husband, George, recently returned from their honeymoon cruise. She looked
beautiful with flowers braided in her blonde hair and the tan she’d earned on her honeymoon. She waved to me before the service started with wide eyes. I’m sure she was shocked to see me there, even more surprised with who I was with. She called out that she would come find me after the service had ended. I look forward to talking to her, but my focus was on Porter.

  Porter whispered in my ear, “Do you believe in God?”

  He’d been asking more of those questions from that list we never got through during our dinner at Kouzina Anatolia’s. Last night he had asked me if I wanted children and how we should handle conflict and money. Big questions. Meaningful questions. The kind of questions you asked somebody you want to spend the rest of your life with. I told him I wasn’t sure about children. I was afraid of what kind of mother I would be, given the way I had grown up. The thought frightened me, to be quite honest, and I definitely wanted to finish my doctorate before I considered it.

  Though Porter wanted children eventually, he too was afraid of what kind of father he would be. We both decided it was a subject we would have to discuss more as our relationship progressed.

  As far as conflict and money went, we were on the same page. We felt like honest communication was important. No passive-aggressive behavior, ignoring, or belittling the other person. We both had excellent credit scores and believed that you should only go into debt for houses and cars, or a really fine education.

  Now here he was, asking me one of life’s biggest questions. Did I believe in God?

  I leaned into him so that I could whisper in his ear. “As a scientist, I’ve never been able to prove his existence one way or the other. But the night I was caught in that house fire, I felt like there was someone beside me, helping me, almost guiding me to that bathroom window.” I was finding it hard to choke back tears. I hated remembering those days. Days where I felt so helpless and small. Where books were my only friends. “And when I was younger and frightened with no one, there was this voice inside that always calmed me. Sometimes I felt it beckoned me on, telling me things wouldn’t always be this way. I don’t know if that was God or if I should get a CAT scan.” I tried to end on a lighthearted note.