by Hart, Hanna
"Hey!" he laughed, spinning her around and pulling her close. "Nobody talks about my wife that way!"
"Come on, let me show you," he urged, taking her hand and leading her downstairs.
Today, he wanted to show Fiona all the important parts of his life. The influential moments that made him who he was now. If she could still accept him after the tour was over, he would ask her if she felt even a sliver of the way he felt about her. If she did, he would ask her to be his real wife. To stay with him and be his real partner.
If he was going to be taking the object of his affections on a tour of his life, it only seemed appropriate to start at Rendezvous. She had been there several times now since her three-week stay on the island, but he would make sure this time left an impression.
He brought her into the back room and gave her a proper tour of the pantry, walk-in freezer, and the new set of ranges they’d only recently installed.
“My dad taught me to crack an egg when I was four years old,” he said as he ran his hand over the silver countertops
“That’s impressive,” she teased, leaning into him. “I bet you were sizzling bacon by five.”
“You joke, but I made the best kindergarten breakfast a preschool could ask for.”
“You may have to prove it to me,” she said with a wink and watched as he began taking out various ingredients
“Rendezvous is a steak and seafood place, to go with the island theme. But I specialized in French food,” he explained.
He took out a thick cut of pink salmon, de-boned, and set it onto parchment paper on a bed of lemons and asparagus. He laid out a few fresh sprigs of fennel, a handful of capers, a spring onion, and a handful of cherry tomatoes. He topped it off with salt, pepper, and truffle oil. After sealing the parchment paper, he set it into the oven.
"Cooking was just something that was in me. I'd swear if it wasn't for my ability to cook, I might doubt whether or not my father and I were biologically related," he teased. "Have you ever realized you were just... really good at something?"
"Ping-pong," she nodded solemnly.
Beckett blinked in surprise and laughed out, "You're kidding?"
"I'm really good," she said, without missing a beat. "Like, legendary."
"Well, good! I'll have to see that sometime then."
"Are you challenging me?" she dared in the most seductive voice. It was so sultry, he couldn't believe it had come out of shy little Fiona's mouth.
"Yes," he said, swallowing hard. "This is an official ping-pong challenge from a husband to a wife. And let me tell you, I'm a quick learner, so I hope you aren't exaggerating your skills."
"You won't be disappointed," she smiled.
"Well, I knew I was really good at cooking. It was just something that I did. But when I was eighteen, I decided I wanted to go to school for it."
Fiona flipped her curled hair behind her shoulder and cocked her head to the side. "You weren't intimidated by your dad at all?" she asked.
"Nah. Not one bit. My dad was there to teach me, not intimidate me. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps," Beckett said evenly. "I was the reason we ended up opening two more restaurants. I think he wanted me to have something I could build. But I wasn't just handed it. I worked for it."
"That's a heck of a dad," she said.
Beckett shrugged. Maybe she was right. He had always considered his father to be hard on him and Magdalene. He was strict with them, and Twenty minutes had gone by, and when he unwrapped the salmon, it looked absolutely perfect. Warm pink, perfectly flaky, and bursting with flavor. Simple is best, he thought. That was always his motto when it came to fine dining.
"Salmon en papillote," he said. "Try it."
"Don't I feel spoiled," she said excitedly and took a heaping forkful of salmon before stabbing it further through a spear of asparagus.
"Okay. This is amazing," she said, practically rolling her eyes back with delight.
"I didn't want to be handed anything. I wanted my dad to trust me and my skills."
Fiona took another bite and then locked eyes with Beckett. "So, what happened? If you don't mind my asking? Why'd you lose favor with the king himself?"
He nodded knowingly. He knew he had to tell her everything, but he wanted to do it slowly.
"We'll get there," he said. "We'll get there."
After an early dinner, Beckett loaded Fiona into his Jeep, and they drove down past the marinas to a remote beach. He parked right on the sand, and the two of them proceeded out toward a hidden cove.
Palm trees shaded the sunny area, and Beckett took his wife deeper into the outcropping. They had to climb over a series of high rocks that made a sort of barrier before the water.
Part of the reason he loved this cove so much was that it was so private.
The two of them took a seat in the sand and wet their feet in the water.
Fiona leaned back on her arms, exhausted from the climb, and drew her face up to the sun like a flower looking for the light.
"So?" he said with excitement, setting his hand on top of hers in the sand.
"So?" she repeated, opening her eyes from the beaming sun and glancing at him. "We are at a cove."
"You are terribly perceptive," he said flirtatiously.
"I consider it one of my strong suits," she said and inhaled a stifled breath.
"Just wait," he said, holding a finger out to the water.
The waves rippled into the surf in slow, rhythmic bounces. The water was clear and blue and perfectly refreshing for a day like today.
"What are we waiting for?" Fiona whispered.
"There," he pointed.
He heard Fiona gasp as they both watched a pod of dolphins diving in and out of the water, seemingly racing toward the shallow end of the cove.
"Oh, my goodness!" Fiona said, erupting into a fit of giggles. She palmed her hand over her mouth and pointed to the dolphins in shock. Their skin was a shiny gray and they had babies among them.
"This pod of dolphins comes here every afternoon for the mackerel," he said, pointing down into the deeper waters at the slender, torpedo-shaped fish swimming together. "You know how I learned that?"
Fiona couldn't pull herself away to look at him as she asked, "How?"
"I almost drowned here," he said in a matter-of-fact tone that he hoped would get her attention.
Fiona's head snapped in his direction and both her brows shot up. "No, you didn't!" she yelled.
"I swear. I couldn't swim worth anything. I was fresh out of college. Moved here with my parents to work at the restaurant and came to this cove. I walked out to a sandbar and didn't realize it dropped right off," he said, pointing out to where the sandbar used to be, though he wouldn't dare go out and test to see if it had moved since then.
"Then what happened? The dolphins came and saved you?" she said with no small form of shock and then gasped, "No!"
He laughed and shook his head. "That would be the majestic re-telling of my adventure. Nah, it was more like, I did an idiot flail and grabbed onto one of the dolphins until I somehow managed to flap my way back onto the sandbar. Which I proceeded to live on for the three hours that followed."
Fiona stared at him, wide-eyed, until she burst into a heap of tearful laughter. She slapped the sand beneath them and when she could finally catch her breath, announced, "That's terrible!"
"Yeah, yuck it up," he chuckled.
"I'm sorry, but it's just... no, I'm sorry, that's awful!"
He smiled as she continued to giggle at his expense. If anything, he hoped this made her feel a little bit better about falling into the water at the ferry dock. Embarrassing things can happen to anyone, especially on this island.
"The thing was, one of them just stayed there with me the whole time. For hours. He just swam around in the shallow water, and every once in a while, he would look at me. It was like he was making sure I was alright," he mused as he looked out over the water. They were growing pink from the newly setting sun, and Becket
t knew that meant they should probably leave soon.
"That's amazing," she breathed as she watched the stunning creatures move effortlessly through the water. "It's like a weird pigeon or something."
Beckett blinked in surprise, and a bemused smile covered his lips. "It's like a weird pigeon?" he enunciated, turning his head slowly to her.
Fiona grabbed his hand and squeezed it, laughing almost hysterically now. "You know! Like, those pigeons people feed at a park, and then they keep coming back, and they get to know the old people who throw the bread crumbs!"
"I'm sorry, Fiona, I don't live in a children's cartoon where pigeons make friends with the elderly," he teased, tickling her side.
"No, you just have dolphins come to save you," she mocked.
He paused. "Touché. Nothing I can say to that!"
"And what was the dolphin’s significance to you?" she asked, now settling from her giggle-fit. "Why did this particular location make the grand tour?"
He felt his stomach drop out from his body then and his smile went so bitter he could practically taste it. "I'm glad you asked," he swallowed nervously. "That was the day I decided I wanted to be a father."
His words seemed to perk something up in her, and she immediately pulled her legs up so she could rest on her calves, now kneeling beside him.
"And?" she asked.
"And?" he repeated. "And then I became a father."
“You… you did?” Fiona repeated in shock. She scraped her mismatched teeth up her top lip and stared at him in confusion. “Well, tell me about your child! Boy or girl?”
“Boy,” he said.
“But you said…” she trailed off, cupping her brows at him.
Beckett nodded slowly and held up a hand in protest. “Let’s go to the last stop, and I’ll tell you everything.”
The sun had set by the time they reached the last stop. The radio played somber, country melodies that he kept at a low volume. Things went quiet between the two—Fiona apparently deciding that if she couldn’t ask Beckett about his child yet, then she wouldn’t be speaking at all.
She was lost in thought, and he couldn’t say he blamed her.
He drove down the beach and up toward a two-lane highway. It was completely empty and had no street lights overhead to help travelers on their way. No, in order to be successful down this small stretch of beach highway, you had to know the island.
Beckett pulled over and helped Fiona out the passenger side door. He grabbed her hand and took her to the far side of the road where it first started to curve. They stood on the shoulder, where it was safe, and Fiona piped up, “And what’s this? Your favorite rest-stop?” she jeered. “Did it teach you how to believe in yourself or inspire you to become a famous world traveler?”
“Nope,” he said.
Fiona must have sensed his reluctance to play along because she went eerily silent. The only sounds they could hear was the water rushing in the distance.
“This is where my wife and son died,” he said as evenly as he could.
"No," Fiona whispered out. She brought a hand to her mouth and looked out over the blackened road before looking back at him in shock. "I had no idea. Beckett, I'm so..."
He was partly surprised by her statement. Part of him wondered if she would have read about it before coming to Nani Makai or whether Maggs would have let it slip out. It wouldn't have been hard to find in old newspaper article online, but he supposed you had to know where to look.
"This highway leads right into town and turns into a city road. It leads right to Rendezvous," he said, feeling the emotion creep up his throat then. "She was coming to see me at work. I stayed late, and she was coming to..." he paused. "What? Surprise me? Yell at me? I have no idea."
He didn't know. He didn't know why she was coming to the restaurant.
And that was one of the worst parts of the goodbye. There wasn't one.
It wasn't as though he could look back at the night and remember how they had a horrible fight before he left, how she begged him to stay or scolded him for working too much—because neither of those things happened.
He couldn't remember their last words to each other. Could take no comfort in believing that their last exchange was her kissing him at the door and telling him she loved him, because he didn't remember. It wouldn't have surprised him, but it wouldn't have surprised him if their last exchange was her playing with Michael on the living room floor and giving him a simple wave goodbye as he headed in for the late shift.
Beckett couldn’t remember.
It had just been a regular, run-of-the-mill evening. They went out on the boat in the morning with Michael. He caught his first fish, with Beckett’s help, of course. They had dinner, though he couldn’t remember what. Then he went to work.
It was just another day. And then everything changed.
“That must make you crazy to think about, Beckett,” Fiona said quietly. “I know it would make me nuts.”
“See here?” he said, wandering down the roadway and pointing to the white striped line on the pavement. “See this fade in the road marker?”
He paused and took in a deep breath. "This is where she spun off the road. A transport came and hit her."
"I'm so sorry," she said, setting a hand over her heart. "That's awful."
"He was transporting goods to the docks. I guess he'd been working overtime and fell asleep at the wheel. My wife, Lynne, she was killed on impact. But Michael, my son..." he tapered off, feeling a catch in his throat that felt like an anchor, pulling his whole body down. "He was pronounced dead a few hours later at the hospital."
"Did you get to see him?" she asked, squeezing his hand.
He narrowed his brows and stared off into the direction of the water, though he couldn't see a think through the thick fog of darkness. He had come here so many nights after the accident, waiting for the same fate to overtake him. Sometimes he would park his car across both lanes and just wait—wait for a transport to hit him or for some car to come whipping past and send his car careening out of the way. But nothing ever happened. He wouldn't see so much as a squirrel out on this road. Just darkness.
"Yeah," he finally responded. "But it isn't as comforting as you'd think. Seeing your kid like that."
Fiona looked lost in her thoughts. She stared down into the light his Jeep's headlights cast out onto the road. She squeezed his hand again and said, "So that's why you don't want children."
"I don't want any replacements," he said quickly.
"I don't think it would be a replacement. It couldn't be. It's just... life."
"Life," he repeated bitterly. "Hm."
When they got back into the car, Fiona remained silent. He didn't know if he's scared her off or if she'd changed her mind about him or if she had ever liked him to start with, but he knew he had to finish his story.
“After they died, my life was over,” he said as they drove back in the direction of his home. “My mother did what she does best: freak out. She was a mess, like me. She had me move back in with them for a while,” he said quickly, not liking how it all sounded out loud. “And my father was no help. He decided the best medicine for losing your whole world was to work until you couldn’t think straight.”
“Not a good idea,” Fiona added.
“No. He sent me all over the place to manage the restaurants, and I mean, I tried my best,” he shrugged. “I tried. But I couldn’t even brush my teeth every day, let alone manage a restaurant. I ended up drunk every night, picking up girls and slandering my father’s name in public.”
“What did you say?” she asked as they finally pulled into his driveway. “To slander him?”
“I said my father was a righteous, pompous idiot who didn’t give a…” he paused and smiled sheepishly at Fiona. She raised her brow, and he shrugged. “Expletive,” he simplified, “about his family.”
“Wow,” she breathed.
“Yeah,” he said. “Not my best moment.”
“You weren�
��t yourself,” she said, quickly rising to his defense.
“No,” he said. “No, I certainly was not.”
“Thus, the PR rejuvenation,” she said.
Beckett nodded, and the car went silent again. Fiona was lost in thought once more. Neither of them moved to get out.
He didn’t know what she was thinking, but all he could focus on was her beauty. Fiona was so beautiful, and sweet, and demure, he didn’t know if he could hold back his feelings for one second longer.
But then she said, “And you never want children?” and he found himself annoyed once again.
“No, Fiona,” he spat out with irritation. “I don’t want kids, for the last time.”
He realized, too late, that his words came out harsher than he meant them to. He felt the tension in the air thicken, and he brushed his hand along her cheek, cupping it in his hand.
“But,” he began slowly and then all at once forced himself to say, “I do want you, Sunshine.”
Chapter Thirteen
Fiona
"But I do want you."
Beckett’s words had haunted Fiona since she had gone on what she was now referring to as Beckett's life tour five days earlier. She had so much to think about since then. She wanted Beckett; there was no question about that. But she didn't know if she could bring herself to be with him.
Not after everything he had told her.
Opening up about his wife had been devastating for him. She could see it in his face. Lynne sounded like a wonderful person who loved and supported Beckett. She also sounded like an amazing mother. Losing her had nearly killed Beckett.
So how could Fiona enter into a relationship with him with the secret she was keeping?
He was falling in love with her. She could feel it. How would she be able to tell him now that, not only did she have a child she'd lied to him about—a child he would under no circumstances want any part of—but she was also dying?
Fiona's days were numbered. She knew that now.
She was given two months to live by her doctor, and it had already been longer than a month that she'd been on Nani Makai. She was still strong, or so Dr. Thompson had told her. He was surprised at this since the symptoms of cardiomyopathy often included high blood pressure, lightheadedness, swelling in the body, and general fatigue or weakness. While she had symptoms like heart palpitations and fainting, she wasn't as weak as Dr. Thompson thought she might be at this stage.