by Sally John
“Did you tell him where I lived?”
“Good grief, no. He told me the night before you and I met for dinner.” He glanced at a nearby table. “Lexi, let’s sit down, please.”
She noticed people were watching their exchange. She sat.
Nathan followed suit and slid the drink in front of her. “This may not help, but I’ll say it anyway: he was never violent. I don’t think he would have harmed you physically.”
He was right. Hearing that didn’t help.
“Lexi, I promise he will never hurt you again. I promise that I will never intentionally hurt you again. May I finish the story?”
She nodded, hands in her lap, head lowered.
“I began to wonder about Reid when he told me your address. And where you buy groceries.”
Nausea churned her stomach.
“He said Erik seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. So . . . he followed you. That’s when I got worried. I told him to leave you alone. He said he just needed to know if you saw him arguing with Erik. I said I would find out.”
She looked at him. His hands were gripped together on the table, his eyes down.
“I began to put two and two together. Why was it such a big deal to him? Did he have something to do with Erik getting to Felicia’s? With the toy gun, even?” He shook his head. “Something was seriously wrong. I talked to our mom after that. I said Reid needed professional help. She agreed.”
Lexi waited for him to continue.
“Then I met you for dinner.” He raised his eyes to her. “You don’t have to believe this, but I was going to tell you everything before our evening ended. I just didn’t want to ruin our moment together.” A sad smile crossed his lips. “It was a good moment. A connection. They don’t happen often. At least not to me.”
Warm fuzzies bubbled inside of her. There was no denying she’d felt the same, so much so she had opened up to him more than she ever had with anyone.
He said, “I guess that’s the end. Except—Lexi, I am so sorry for what he did to you. I am so sorry I didn’t run after you.”
Like Rosie and Bobby would have let that happen.
“I should tell you the beginning of the story. I noticed you that first night and I said to myself I really would like to know that woman. When I figured out you were the one that might, according to Reid, ease his mind, I jumped at the chance to meet you.”
“You went through Zak and made up a ruse about writing an article!”
“I’m sorry. I’m short on pickup lines. And I couldn’t fake it, pretending I didn’t know the first thing about you before we met. Lexi, short of a miracle, I know you can’t forgive me. But I wish with all my heart that at some point we could pick up where we left off.”
“I forgive you.” The words sprang straight from her heart to her tongue.
His entire body visibly relaxed. The tense lines on his face softened. He took a deep breath, let it out, and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well.” Her tone of absolution flip-flopped to harsh. Old reactions short-circuited the new attitude. “Danny says to forgive means to forget. And that part I’m not so sure about.”
“I understand.”
Lexi tried to avoid eye contact but the warmth of those tawny irises drew her back. She had told this guy everything. She was so gullible.
She said, “I just don’t want to be gullible anymore. Are you even writing that stupid article?”
“I sold it. Two versions actually. One to a firefighting magazine. Another—the personal one about you—to a Sunday supplement. Only with your approval, of course. You are a heroine, Lexi. People will love reading about you.”
“Don’t flatter me.”
“I’m not. I won’t. I’m just groveling for a second chance to see you again.”
A second chance. What if he trampled all over her trust again? Could she handle that?
She thought of her family, how their presence had become a safety net. The knowledge that Danny sat right outside the door held her in a comfort zone she could not have found on her own. Maybe if she knew the family was nearby watching over her, then maybe another meeting with Nathan wasn’t out of the question.
The wedding reception.
She stood up. “Saturday night. Hotel Del. Seven thirty. Black tie.”
“I’ll be there.”
She hesitated. The black-tie part was optional. But . . . if she had to wear a little black dress, then Mr. Casual in his Birkis could wear a tux. Besides, his second chance should come with extremely high standards.
Lexi picked up her venti iced caramel macchiato, extra shot, extra whipped cream, swiveled on her heel, and made what she considered quite a nice exit.
Seventy
On a Friday afternoon in early June, the day before she planned to renew her marriage vows, Claire sat outdoors on the railroad tie steps that led down to the hacienda’s parking area.
Only two cars sat on the new blacktop, hers and Max’s. More would arrive soon. Danny and Jenna were driving together from the city. Indio and Ben would most likely ride in his truck up the hill from their house. Lexi and Tuyen planned to hike that same hill; they were checking out the newly delivered RV. Erik was on his way, driving himself after getting a ride in from the desert to his own car.
There was much unfinished business.
Jenna languished over Kevin, not due home until next spring.
Lexi and Tuyen, both still hurting but healing, faced the thousand and one household details of moving. The RV required some furnishings. Lexi wasn’t crazy about the commute to work. Tuyen needed a job.
Ben talked to Tuyen, but not often and not directly and not with a smile.
And then there was Erik.
Which was the reason Claire waited alone on the steps for him.
The change in her eldest son was obvious when he parked his sporty car. No brakes squealed. No music blared. No gunned engine noise.
Erik climbed out, removing his sunglasses, a small smile on his lips, his right arm free from the sling. “Hey, Mom.”
Claire met him with a fierce hug. “Welcome.” She almost added “home,” but swallowed the word. It wasn’t his home.
“Thanks.”
She kissed his cheek. “Let me look at you.”
He twirled around for her, always the performer.
She smiled. “Seriously.”
He leaned over and pressed his forehead against hers. “Twenty-five days sober.”
Thank You, Lord. She whispered, “I don’t want us to interfere, to undo anything.”
He straightened. “Mom, how I react to people and situations is totally my choice. I’m in good shape. Trust me, this couple, Jillie and Greg, they would have strongly suggested I stay put if I weren’t ready.”
She stared at him. As always he was confident, but . . . where was the insolence? “Okay.”
He watched her closely. “Go ahead. Tell me what’s on your mind. I won’t break, I promise.”
“You’ve changed.”
“I have.”
“Your father has changed too.”
He cocked his head to one side.
“Erik, let him change.”
Slowly, understanding dawned in his eyes. His mouth curved into that signature half smile. “You mean not to react to the old Max. Not slip into my old way of relating to him. Like, um, snapping and barking like some rabid dog whenever he’s in the vicinity?”
She spread her hands. “Does it make sense?”
He laughed. “Got it covered, Mom. I’ve forgiven him.” He looked over her shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”
Claire glanced back and saw Max approaching the top of the steps.
Erik touched her shoulder as he walked past her. “I hope you gave him the same talk.”
Of course she had. Maybe it hadn’t been necessary, but when Max said he was going to the office about the time Erik was due to arrive, she recognized anxiety signals. The remedy seemed so simple. Let your son be cha
nged.
Erik’s long legs quickly bridged the distance between him and his dad.
Too far to hear the brief words they exchanged, she understood them in her heart. The clues were easy to follow. Especially the big bear hug.
Late that afternoon, the family roamed through the hacienda, checking out the refurbished rooms. They observed what needed to be done and anticipated the first guests to visit the Hacienda Hideaway ~ A Place of Retreat in a few months.
At every turn Claire’s heart overflowed with gratitude.
As a group, they sauntered into the sala. Lexi lingered behind in the courtyard.
Danny gestured at the walls. “I like what you’ve done in here with the lighter paneling, but it’s still kind of stark.”
“It is,” Max said. “I asked Lexi if we could hang some of her paintings. She said she wants to work on a new series for this room.”
“Yeah,” Danny said, “you wouldn’t want her last phase with all that on-the-verge-of-extinction. No offense, Lex—oh, I guess she’s not in here. Man, talk about stark.”
“I saw those,” Max said. “I prefer Gigi the giraffe. She’d go perfect on that far wall.”
Erik chuckled. “I do believe Gigi is spoken for by a certain policewoman.”
Claire smiled. She’d been trying to suppress her delight ever since she heard Rosie was accompanying Erik to Saturday’s festivities.
Ben stepped to a side wall and rapped his knuckles on it. “I miss the map. It went right here.”
Danny said, “Your grandfather drew it, right?”
“Yep. Can’t replace that one. It showed trees and hills and where the gold was.” He shook his head, clearly disturbed at the loss.
“You know what, Papa?” Danny placed an arm around his shoulders and gazed with him toward the undecorated wall. “You can find just about anything on the ’Net these days.”
“Can’t find originals by your ancestors.”
“That is true.” Danny moved to a nearby chair, squatted down, and fished a hand beneath it. “But you can punch information to the right people and come up with a pretty good facsimile.” He pulled out a long cardboard tube.
Claire stared in anticipation as he pulled a cap off one end. He reached inside, grinning the whole time, and slowly withdrew a rolled-up piece of what appeared to be parchment paper.
With a flourish he unrolled it. “Ta-da!”
They all gathered around him, Ben in the center.
“Not bad, huh, Papa? It’s even got the different clumps of boulders and the oldest oak.” He winced. “Which we think is growing back.”
Ben clapped Danny’s shoulder, clearly at a loss for words.
Indio wept. The rest of them oohed and aahed.
Erik said, “It’s perfect, Dan. Great idea.”
A high-pitched cry split the air. “Oh!” It was Lexi, from the courtyard.
Max was the first one through the door, Claire on his heels.
“Oh,” she yelled again. “Come see this!”
“Lexi!” he shouted.
“Here!”
They rushed toward her voice at the far end. There she knelt, in the dirt, covered with it, surrounded by a pile of dried-up stems and leaves.
“Look at this!” She grinned, gently brushing her fingertips through the earth. “Here and here. And over there. Rosemary. Oregano. Jasmine. Honeysuckle. African daisy. Aloe and cholla. And more.” She looked up, her eyes wide and glittery. “They didn’t die!”
The courtyard was last on their to-do list. The fire had ravaged it. All the rooms of the U-shaped house opened onto it, and that was where junk had accumulated as the rooms were cleared. And Lexi had lost interest in it. No one else cared for the plants quite like she did.
“They didn’t die!” Lexi exclaimed again. “There they were, sprouting under dead stuff and beneath the broken fountain pieces. Isn’t this wonderful?”
Claire pressed a hand to her mouth.
Just like herself and her family. They had been sprouting under dead stuff, beneath broken pieces. Life hidden from view now emerged.
Yes, it was wonderful, indeed.
Seventy-One
Rosie slid from her SUV, grateful for the high vehicle. It made the balancing act atop three-inch heels much easier to perform than if she’d climbed up and out of a low car.
“Hi.”
She spun on said heel, nose to Erik’s chest, an expanse of stiff white shirt outlined with silky black lapels.
She looked above the bow tie. “Hi.”
Nuts. How had she missed his approach? There were probably a number of reasons. Preoccupation with shoes. Skittishness about being Beaumont’s “date” at the Hotel Del with San Diego’s most elite. Admiration of the sweet little church before her, tucked back off a side road in the trees northeast of Santa Reina. Edginess over the plans, which included Erik riding with her back down into the city to the reception, about an hour’s worth of alone time. Like a real date.
“You look beautiful.”
Rosie let her immediate negative response fizzle away unspoken. Bobby and his wife had stopped by the house before she left, her own cheering squad. They said she was beautiful inside and out. Tall, blonde, and blue-eyed? No. But stunning in her own way. She should receive all like compliments with gracious dignity.
She smiled. “So do you.” So much for gracious dignity.
He grinned. His not-so-subtle glance took it all in. Her hair, falling in waves to her shoulders. The new black dress, simple, straight, made of some silky fabric with sequins. The heels, that vain concession to slimming linebacker calves.
“Did you bring your gun?”
“No.” She smiled.
“Good.” Erik dipped his head and kissed her cheek.
She laughed, pretending like her feet remained on the pavement. “Did you think I would you shoot you for that?”
“You never know.” The setting sun glittered in his eyes behind his dark lashes. He smiled and crooked his elbow, holding it out for her to grasp.
It helped with the balancing act.
Rosie sat in a pew.
And waited for the heartbeat to slow, for the brain to focus on something besides the image of Erik. Tuxedos were designed for guys who looked like him. And that kiss? Friend to friend, sure. But still.
She sighed to herself and studied the church. It was much smaller than hers and of a different persuasion, yet similar with its crucifixes, stained glass windows, and incense. The program in her hand included traditional liturgy. Candles were lit on the altar. Flowers lined the altar rail.
Only a handful of people were in attendance for this private event of Claire and Max’s special day. There was no organist, but off to one side a string quartet played soft classical music. She knew the musicians were close friends of Claire’s.
Tuyen sat beside Rosie, lovely and happy. The haunted expression in her eyes had faded.
Ben and Indio occupied the same pew on Tuyen’s other side. A thick bun at the nape of Indio’s neck replaced her usual braid. Ben kept tugging at the collar of his formal shirt.
The priest walked in from a door behind the altar. Gentle faced, silver haired, dressed in white vestments, he was a large man. Rosie likened him to a teddy bear.
Max came next, followed by Erik and then Danny, all handsome in black tuxedos and white shirts.
The music changed to the familiar tune for brides, and everyone stood, turning to the back of the church. Lexi started first down the aisle, followed by Jenna. They carried small bouquets of purple and white blossoms and wore black dresses. Claire wore a magnificently beaded ivory dress that reflected every light ray in the church. She carried a bouquet full of whites and off-whites.
Rosie sighed to herself. Wedding, re-wedding, blessing, renewal of vows. Whatever. It was all beautiful beyond words.
Seventy-Two
All those months of dreadful anticipation had been such a colossal waste of energy!
As it turned out, the only diffi
cult part of the church ceremony for Lexi had been resisting the urge to grab the photographer’s camera. From her bridesmaid’s perch up front, she had longed to record every nuance of the scene.
Unabashed tenderness shone in her father’s eyes as he gazed at her mother. The back of her mother’s hair glowed; the beads on her dress refracted candlelight into a thousand tiny rainbows. The pure white baby’s breath in the bouquet her sister held contrasted with the black of her dress, a study in stark beauty. An otherworldly peace settled Erik’s features. Danny stood statuelike, the rarest of rare sights.
Of course the tears in her own eyes might have botched her ability to focus the lens.
Now it was over. The ceremony part anyway. She stood with everyone outside the Hotel Del on Coronado Island. While the photographer snapped formal family shots, a new dread steadily chewed away at her earlier bliss. In just minutes she would have to go into the reception.
The unprecedented shindig held horrors for her.
It meant hundreds of strangers who would eye her as the youngest daughter, sister of the drop-dead gorgeous one.
It meant Nathan Warner. Or it didn’t mean Nathan Warner. Would he show up or not? She wasn’t sure which was worse.
It meant the countdown had started for her parents’ departure. Their honeymoon, a cruise down the Mexican Riviera, was to last a week. Seven days could be an incredibly long, long time.
And the reception meant an abundance of food, an easy escape from the panic associated with the whole scene.
Now the camera flashed on the last official Beaumont clan photo. It was an outdoor shot, the hotel’s exterior lights beaming on their faces, the sky and ocean invisible in the dark in the background.
Only Kevin was absent. She missed him. They all missed him. For one photo, they even posed around an empty area that Jenna would fill in with a picture of him. Jenna bawled, of course. She’d been doing a lot of that. Even Lexi was feeling sorry for her.
The photographer raised his head. “Lexi, you did not smile.”