“While I was showering, I tried to revisit the place in my mind where I first met Birdie. She wasn’t there, but that gave me a chance to look around.”
And she saw a motor home identical to the one their disappearing preacher drove. He didn’t know if he believed that or not. Maybe she simply had a very fertile imagination.
Did it matter? Not really, he decided. He shifted his thoughts to Leonard. The guy was the real deal. Jonas trusted him. He didn’t know which of the two approaches—the mystical or hard science—would be the one to find Birdie, but he honestly didn’t care. As long as one of them did.
He was nearly asleep, the drugs doing their magic on his brain chemistry, when she said, “Do you remember that night in high school when we slept together?”
“I must have been the dumbest high school kid in the world. I convinced myself that spending the night together chastely would prove we really loved each other—unlike all our dopey friends who called it love but only wanted to have sex. That was without a doubt the most grueling night of my life.” His breath caught. “At the time.”
“Don’t think you were alone, my friend. Girls have hormones, too. You have no idea how much I wanted to do it.”
He opened one eye to look at her. “Why didn’t you say so? I was being good because you were being good.”
“I was being good because Jessie bet me twenty bucks I couldn’t spend the whole night in the same bed with you without having sex. I had to prove her wrong.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I do hate your sister.” Then he turned his head to take advantage of the sudden cessation of pain and stopped thinking. Destination: oblivion.
Remy studied Jonas in repose. He looked tired and defeated, but still as handsome as the boy she hadn’t slept with all those years ago.
A short toot let her know the light had changed. She waved and stepped on the gas. His car was an absolute dream to drive. She loved the new-car smell, the responsiveness and, above all, the lovely English voice on the speaker that told her when to turn.
Tampa was a big, bustling, busy city, but once she was on the freeway and headed in the right direction, she could let her mind roam a bit. Like past the image of a box of condoms in the sack with the water bottles.
He’d bought them last night, even though he’d made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested in having sex with her. Granted they were still awaiting the results of the DNA test, but his mother’s confession seemed to clearly reject the possibility that her mother had had an affair with Jonas’s dad.
Did that explain the condoms?
She didn’t ask because he was in such obvious pain, but she planned to find out tonight. They’d booked one room again and had direct orders from the P.I. to relax. Did relaxation therapy include sex? she wondered.
If it did, how did she feel about the idea? She wanted him. That was a no-brainer, but sex without a commitment—emotional or verbal—was so Mama. Could she risk the inevitable hurt? How many trips did she and Jessie make to the market for boxes of tissues after Mama’s current Mr. Perfect went back to his wife? Too many.
Remy didn’t believe Jonas would do that—reunite with Cheryl. But the woman had some sort of hold on him. Remy could sense it. Guilt? Grief? She couldn’t say, but Jonas was an emotional quagmire—plus, as Leonard pointed out, he was the father of a little girl who had been dragged through something scary and potentially devastating.
She glanced at him once more, then touched the Bluetooth receiver she’d put in her ear the moment she got behind the wheel. She had only one number programmed: Jessie.
“Hey, Rem,” Jessie answered. “I was just going to call you. Did you meet with the P.I. already?”
“Uh-huh. He’s top-notch. And a big fan of Jess deLeon.”
Jessie let out a small sigh. “I hope he won’t be too disappointed if Jess deLeon quietly disappears from sight.”
Remy gaped in silent surprise. “Seriously? You’ve decided to stop doing Parkour and free-running?”
“My body has. I just got back from the orthopedist. He wants to operate later this summer. He says it will take at least six months before I can start limited physical therapy. I’ll be able to lead a—” she coughed meaningfully “—normal life, but extreme sports are history.”
“Oh, Jessie. I’m so sorry. You must be completely bummed.”
Jessie didn’t answer right away. When she did, she made a strange sound. A giggle? “Thanks, Rem. I probably should be more upset than I am, but, honestly, I’m too happy to worry about it. Not happy about the surgery, but happy every other way. Love will do that to you.”
If you’re lucky.
“I’m glad. Really glad.”
Jessie babbled on a few minutes, telling Remy about her first meeting of the Wine, Women and Words Book Club the night before. Cade’s sister, Kat, was a founding member and she’d dragged the road-weary Jessie to the meeting. “Luckily, Cade and I rented the book on tape while we were on the road and listened to it all the way home. Very cool. I didn’t feel dumb at all.”
“You’re not dumb.”
“I know, but I’m not a brainiac like you, either. It was fun. I think I finally understand why Mama always had all those ladies hanging around. They were her support group. You and I had each other, and the Bullies were sort of off by themselves. Mama needed those ladies, didn’t she?”
The insight made Remy smile. Just like I need you and now you’re not only going to be miles and miles away but you’re going to be married. The thought made her mouth go dry.
She reached behind the seat for a bottle of water. Her fingers grazed a small box first. The one she’d spotted earlier.
“Jessie, is there any reason I couldn’t have sex with Jonas?”
She asked the question softly, but the man in question was a few inches to her right. Fortunately, his smooth, even breathing didn’t change pitch.
“Are you asking me for permission?”
“We don’t have the test back, but that seems to be a moot point if you believe his mother.”
“And we do believe her, don’t we?”
Yes.
“Well, Rem, I certainly can’t say as I blame you. He’s still a great-looking guy, and you’ve always had a thing for him. But…”
“But, what?”
Jessie sighed. “Well, I’ll come right out and say it. He’s as emotionally unattainable as any of the men Mama used to date. He married a crazy woman. He’s got a kid who will probably need some serious counseling, the poor dear. And if what his mother said was true, then Miss Charlotte is to blame for breaking you two up, not Mama. That’s a lot of heavy old baggage, Remy. Short of having a flashing warning light over his head, you couldn’t ask for more red flags.” The navigation system warned that her exit approached.
“I have to go, Jess. I’m glad things are falling into place for you. I mean that.”
“Thanks, sweetie. Oh, wait, I almost forgot. I asked Cade to look into finding our Bible-thumping daddy. He emailed you everything he found. It’s a lot. It’s kinda freaky, actually. I’m not sure how I feel about the idea that this guy is our dad. Call me after you’ve had a chance to look it over, okay?”
Remy put her blinker on. “I will. Is he still alive?”
“Oh, hell, no. Dead as a doornail. Which is probably a good thing. You’ll see. Drive safe. You’re gonna love the Tradewinds. Order a golden margarita for me. Bye.”
Remy ended the call and hit the brake with a tad more force than necessary. Her slumbering passenger shifted position, slowly rousing. “Are we there, yet?” he asked with a yawn.
“Just about.”
“Reminds me of Mexico,” he said, stretching to look around.
She’d never been south of the border, but the scent of the ocean combined with all the palm trees and flowering plants, along with the high-rise hotels that displayed an interesting blend of architecture—part resort, part Disney World—made her wonder if she was still in the United States.
Following the directions, she pulled to a stop beneath their hotel’s wide portcullis. Two doormen hurried to greet them. Remy was happy to hand over the keys. At the moment, the idea of a frosty cocktail sounded very inviting—even if it was several hours before her mother’s rule about what was socially acceptable.
She had a decision to make. Did she give in, accept the fact that she was her mother’s daughter and seduce Jonas? Or not?
BIRDIE LIKED ANTS.
Most people hated them. Her mother dumped a bucket of soapy water on top of this very anthill not ten minutes earlier, flooding them, probably killing hundreds of ants, but they weren’t all dead.
She poked her stick at the opening to let more of the water flow off. A few dead bodies were carried away by the wave, but the survivors ignored her, intently getting to work.
Her daddy had a word for people who carried on even when things got bad. She couldn’t remember it, and that made her sad. Run-away-and-cry sad, but she didn’t dare.
Brother Thom had warned her. “I’m watching you, girl. If you ever touch another phone or do anything bad, I will put the fear of God in you.”
Which proved he wasn’t as smart as Mommy said. Birdie was already afraid of God. It was pretty clear He didn’t like her. When He sent her daddy off to war, it was like dumping dirty water on her and her mother. Poor Mommy was like one of the wet ants, running around, lost, trying to find a place to fit in.
She looked at the stick in her hand and without stopping to think she jabbed it into the hole of the anthill as hard as she could. Then she jumped to her feet and stomped in the soft mud furiously. She wanted them to die. She hated the ants. She hated God and her mother and Brother Thom and the GoodFriends. She hated everything and everybody. She wanted to go home. Now.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“THIS HAS GOT TO BE wrong on so many levels,” Jonas said five hours after checking into the hotel.
The economy room Remy had reserved, the clerk at the registration desk told them, would not have been available until the regular check-in time of three-thirty, so Jonas had handed over his gold card and traded up for a ground-floor suite with a charming lanai and a great view of the beach.
The lush, tropical grounds of the hotel made Remy squeal with delight. The trek to their room included crossing an arched bridge under which passed two very large, very elegant swans. “Look, Jonas, look,” she’d cried. “Wouldn’t Birdie love this place?”
The innocent question had thrown a damper on her joy, but she seemed to recover some of her good spirits after she investigated every inch of their room. “This might well be the nicest place I’ve ever stayed,” she told him, using her phone to take a picture of the living area with its bright floral-print cushions and white wicker furniture. “I could see this style in Mama’s house.”
He couldn’t, but he kept his opinion to himself.
After changing into shorts and flip-flops, they grabbed a quick bite at the hotel’s beach bar, then went exploring. Remy was right, Birdie would have loved this place. From the giant waterslide on the beach to the kids-only pool and paddleboats that navigated the waterways where big, colorful koi swam, along with the swans.
He’d invited Remy to join him for a jog on the beach, but she’d laughed off his suggestion. “No, thank you. I’m going to sit here on my lovely padded chaise, sip this delicious margarita and catch up on email.”
When he spotted the swimsuit she pulled out of her bag, he’d been tempted to join her poolside, but his libido vetoed the idea. A run had been the smart choice. Plus, he’d worked off a little extra stress by swimming to the buoy and back. That hadn’t left time for anything besides showering and dressing for dinner.
He took another bite of his meal. “As God is my witness, this is the best sea bass I’ve ever eaten. Rem, you have to try this.”
She put up her hands. “And risk burning in environmental hell? I don’t think so. My chicken is fine, thank you very much.” She stabbed a piece, twirled it in the creamy white sauce rife with capers, and said with a distinct air of superiority, “And it’s organic, sustainably raised, free range.” She chewed it thoughtfully. “In fact, I’m pretty sure this chicken practiced yoga.”
He threw back his head and laughed. It felt good to pretend for a few precious moments that his life was normal. Here he was an ordinary guy out on a date with a gorgeous, smart, witty woman at a fabulous restaurant on a beautiful moonlit night.
Almost.
He took a sip of wine. They’d ordered two glasses, rather than a bottle. In case Leonard called. Not because Jonas didn’t trust himself to let down his guard where Remy was concerned.
“Cade emailed me while you were running,” she said, her tone casual.
Why, he wondered, did he get the feeling she had something weighty to tell him? He took another bite but the flavor wasn’t quite as good.
“He did an extensive search using the name your mother gave us. He’s a smart guy. Instead of looking at all the Thomas Goodsons in the world, he went to the Baylorville community archives and found that, yes, indeed, a minister named Thomas Goodson lived in town from 1974 through 1976. Remember the Covenant Church? That little white building on the west side of town? It burned down ten or so years ago.”
“Vaguely.”
“Apparently, he was married. One child.”
Jonas wiped his mouth on his napkin and pushed his plate to one side. “Where did he go after he left Baylorville?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Cade thinks the obit I found is of the same guy. The seminary school he graduated from and the date he graduated is the same.”
He touched her hand. “I’m sorry, Remy. That bites. But the fact he was a preacher probably explains why your mother kept his name a secret. He was a man of God. He might have been human and had an affair with one of his parishioners, but at least he wasn’t a serial philanderer, like my dad.”
Neither spoke for a minute or so, then she sighed. “This revelation makes me feel sorta upside down.”
“I bet. Is there anything I can do?”
“You could take me for a walk on the beach.”
He’d already signed the bill to their room, so leaving was simple; they stepped off the patio and onto the warm white sand of the beach. Remy paused to remove her sandals then she took his hand and followed.
The beach had quieted a great deal since his run. The outline of dozens of wooden cabanas were visible in the lights from the silvery moon and stars. The steady whoosh of the waves invited him to return to the water’s edge, but they stayed on the dry sand, which retained some of the heat from the day.
The air temperature was mild, but the breeze—more powerful than he’d expected—felt both balmy and exhilarating. Every nerve in his body tingled, alive and aware of this moment in time.
“Have you ever wondered what our lives would have been like if we hadn’t fallen in love in high school?” she asked, her tone somber. “Our mothers wouldn’t have felt the need to fabricate a lie. Maybe my mother might have broken down and told Jessie and me who our father was before he died.” Her tone was wistful, sad.
“I’m really sorry for all of this.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“My mother—”
“Our mothers collaborated to deceive us, Jonas. And at this point, there’s really no one left to blame. I only meant that our lives might have been entirely different if we’d gone to college and bumped into each other at a reunion five years later.”
“Does that really happen?”
“Sure. Remember Suzie? Our waitress at Catfish Haven? She married some guy from Chicago, lived up north for ten years, and had two kids before he ran off with his secretary. After their divorce, she came home for the all-school reunion and ran into a guy she dated in high school. They’d broken up over something trivial. They started dating and got married as soon as her divorce was final.”
“Wow. Of course, they didn’t spend all those years ap
art thinking they were related.”
She knocked her head against his shoulder. “Well, there’s that, and,” she added with a rueful chuckle, “her current hubby is no great prize, either. But she claims he’s the love of her life.”
The love of her life.
He tightened his grip on her hand. “Remy, I need to tell you something. I’ve been back in Baylorville a thousand times since graduation. Even after my divorce, I could have come and found you, asked you out. The idea that we were related was partly why I never attempted to talk to you, but there was another reason, too.”
“What?”
“Remember when you asked me why I married Cheryl and I showed you her picture? Well, you’re not the only one who saw a certain resemblance. One day we were visiting Mom, and Cheryl ran across our high school yearbook. She saw the pictures of you and me together.”
“She was jealous?”
“Oh, more than jealous. She flew into a rage. She yelled and swore and broke things. Luckily, Mom had taken Birdie to visit friends.”
He was glad Birdie didn’t have to see that outburst. There had never been anything like it before or since then, at least in his presence.
“You became a sort of demon obsession for Cheryl. She couldn’t let it go. There came a point where, if Mom needed my help, I’d lie and tell my wife I was going out of town on business rather than get into an argument over my real reason for visiting Baylorville.” He’d told himself he was lying for Birdie’s sake. So she didn’t have to witness the arguments, threats and name-calling that accompanied one of Cheryl’s paranoid outburts. But maybe his need to avoid confrontation ran deeper—all the way back to his childhood.
“I’m so sorry.”
He dropped his head to his chest, ashamed and slightly sick. “I lied. I was desperate. I told her we broke up because you cheated on me, and that’s why I hated you. I was attracted to blondes but I would cross the street rather than have to face you again.” He’d felt like the most despicable liar and fraud on the planet, but his lies had worked.
“I knew our marriage was doomed. But Cheryl figured out a way to use my worst nightmare against me. And as much as it kills me to admit this, she still has power over me—through Birdie. It’s pure manipulation. Unfair and awful, but effective.”
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