Dirty Secrets

by Lush, Tamara

  But now, I wanted to avoid everything and everyone.

  My eyes scanned the crowd and landed on a familiar face: Jessica. She was staring at me, doe-eyed, imploring. And she was moving toward me.

  I watched as she wove her way past several people. She looked stunned, still, as she had back at the hotel. When she reached me, I her silently took her hand and squeezed, ignoring how my chest tightened with panic.

  Up on stage, the presenter squealed. "And the winner is...Leo Villeneuve from Sugar Rush Bakery! He did the beautiful sculpture of a mermaid. Everyone should check it out."

  I mustered a small smile as Jessica grabbed me. Hugged me. It was hard not to feel a rush of pleasure at any contact of our bodies.

  "You deserve this," she whispered, and I could see in her eyes she meant it. "Congratulations."

  She kissed me on the cheek, and my skin tingled. Her physical presence was as potent as ever, but I had to acknowledge our relationship would never recover. What was the point? I was about to go to prison, and she thought I was a piece of shit on top of that.

  I headed toward the podium, guilt crushing my chest. I should never have slept with Jessica, not when I knew this whole situation in New Orleans could blow up at any moment. Not when I knew I was a broken mess that might never recover from the war's wounds to my psyche. But I'd been unable to resist her, and all logic and reason fled my mind when she kissed me. And for one blissful night, my problems had disappeared.

  But those problems were back, and all painfully clear. We weren't meant to be. I was going to hurt her again. God, I was the biggest asshole of all time.

  Attempting to smile, I stepped up to the podium and accepted the gift certificate for a weekend trip to the Bahamas.

  "Do you have a special someone to take with you?" the actress teased, shoving her microphone into my face.

  I couldn't answer. I just nodded to shut her up, praying I'd maintain the strength not to breakdown or run. I'd done enough running in my life. It was time to step up and be a man.

  Jessica followed me to my motorcycle afterward, making everything worse.

  "Your sculpture really was the most beautiful. The mermaid was perfectly detailed, like something carved out of stone. You deserved to win."

  I turned to her in front of my bike, which was parked in a space near Sunset Brew, and avoided her eyes. "I have a bunch of meetings today, so I'm headed to the bakery."

  "Why won't you talk to me?"

  I sighed. "What is there to talk about? You're angry with me. I really messed up, Jessica. I've made some really bad decisions in my life, and not just about us. You don't know the half of it."

  She shook her head. "I forgive you. And I can't apologize enough for earlier. We were practically kids when we met. Like you said, you thought you were doing the right thing. It was me who reacted poorly. It was my fault and I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me too."

  I shrugged.

  Jessica's eyes narrowed. "Wait. You're not telling me something else. Does it have something to do with the war?"

  My eyes finally met hers. "Maybe."

  She bit her lip, nodding. I could tell it was killing her not to know what I was hiding, but she seemed to find her equilibrium.

  "There's a lot I don't know about you."

  We stared at each other as the Florida sun blazed down upon our faces.

  She reached out to stroke my arm. "But I want to get to know you. I'm trying to give us a chance. Please?"

  Chapter 37

  Growing Up

  JESSICA

  I stared at Leo, praying he'd take the olive branch I was offering. He exhaled long and leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead, which sent fresh sparks through my body. Then he pulled back, and I saw the darkness in his eyes.

  "Jess, you'll be happier with someone else, and I don't deserve to have a relationship. I only want what's best for you in the long run."

  "No, Leo. You don't get to act like that. You don't get to decide what's best for me."

  "We shouldn't have spent the night together."

  I reared back as if slapped. Don’t cry.

  "You didn't enjoy yourself?"

  "Jesus, Jessica, you know I did. But it's for the best that we're not together. You just don't want to get involved with me. Trust me. I made a mistake. And it's my fault, all my fault. Just like five years ago."

  He shook his head, then climbed onto his bike. I watched him fire up the ignition and roar away. I didn't understand.

  Brushing back tears, I walked home, opened the front door of the hotel, and locked eyes with my sister. And Nicole's words hit my ears like a bucket of cold water.

  "Happy Valentine's Day."

  Shit. Valentine's Day. How appropriate Leo and I would have this enormous fight today. And then I would lose the first sand-sculpting competition in years. Oh, and there was the appraiser for the hotel. He was supposed to be here later in the afternoon. Ughhh.

  I didn't want to go into that with Nicole, though.

  And yet...I remembered my sister's words from earlier. Poised to tell Nicole everything was fine, I stopped myself and decided not to hide my feelings. If I never gave my sister a chance to be there for me, how could I blame her for not being supportive? Wasn't I doing the very thing I'd accused Leo and Nicole and Mom of doing to me?

  "What's wrong? Well, for starters, Leo and I just had a fight."

  Nicole pursed her lips. "About what?"

  "I found Mom's old journals. And I read them."

  Nicole's eyebrows lifted toward her hairline. "Journals?"

  "Yeah, I'll share them with you when I'm done. Anyway, I found out Leo and Leo's dad all went along with Mom's plan to keep Leo and me apart when we were kids. They formed this brilliant scheme after I had the pregnancy scare, then continued it when it turned out I was fine. All because Mom and Adam had issues. They were being selfish and didn't want to deal with each other if Leo and I stayed together."

  Nicole inhaled. "Yep."

  I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Unreal. Who didn't know? "I wish all of you would have been upfront with me."

  "What would you have done?" Nicole asked softly. "Mom didn't trust you making a choice like that so young, and she didn't have any faith in Leo. She didn't have very good luck with guys and...well, we thought you needed to be protected. Mom and I always thought of you as a baby, Jessie-Bessie."

  My childhood name reminded me of all the times Nicole and Mom had cared for me, like when I broke my arm when I was nine and we'd watched all my favorite movies for two entire weekends, including four back-to-back viewings of Shrek.

  Or when I was bullied about my size in middle-school, and Mom and Nicole took us to Disney to get my mind off being teased. Tears pricked at my eyes. I also felt a rising anger, but then it evaporated. I didn't feel like fighting. Maybe I was just exhausted, emotionally spent, but this negativity didn't seem worth it anymore.

  "Well, I'm no longer a baby. Or a girl. And that means I'm going to be really clear about what I want."

  Nicole smiled. "Good. Good for you."

  "I don't want to sell the hotel. I want to continue to run it. I don't want more change in my life right now. There's been too much change, what with Mom gone. And with Leo returning. I want to hold on to this piece of our past, at least for now."

  Nicole froze, and all I could hear was the screech of Palmira's parrots flying into the palm tree in the front of the hotel.

  "Call the appraiser and cancel the appointment," I demanded. "Let's try things my way for a year, maybe two. Then we'll reevaluate. I'm not saying we'll never sell. I just don't want to sell anytime soon."

  "Jessica..." Nicole's voice was soft and garbled, like she was about to cry.

  "It's like you want to forget Mom."

  A tear slipped down Nicole's cheek. "No. Not at all."

  "Then what? Why are you so eager to sell? Why are you pushing me to move on? We're doing just fine, and we can do better if you let me do what I want and not stand
in my way. I have so many ideas. You have a life with your husband and daughter. Why can't I build something I've been working at building for years now? Actually, if you'd work with me, we'd be a good team here."

  Nicole sighed. "I miss Mom too. I just show it in a different way. I want to move on and have a fresh start."

  So Leo was right. Nicole was grieving in her own way. Still, that didn't make it okay to force everyone else to do what she wanted.

  Nicole shuddered in a breath. "But I guess you're right. You deserve a say in this. I just try to take charge to help out. I try to be adult, try to keep things moving, try to treat you the way I think Mom would have wanted me to treat you. But that's like a child, like how she thought of you. It's time I stop doing that. You're a grown woman who's accomplished a lot."

  I nodded, my cheeks wet from tears. "I just want to stay on the island for a while. With you. I need you, whether you know it or not. You're all I've got. I don't want any more change right now."

  Nicole walked out from behind the desk, and we hugged tight. It was the best hug I’d had from her in years.

  "Okay, Jessie-Bessie. I mean, Jessica. Okay. We'll try it your way. You've more than earned a shot."

  Chapter 38

  Forgiveness

  JESSICA

  The next evening, I found Leo had slipped his room key under my door with a note.

  I forgot to give you this earlier. Thank you for the room. - L

  He hadn't even knocked or wanted to talk with me.

  The blocky, black handwriting was stark against the paper. I sank onto the sofa, defeated.

  Earlier in the day, I'd made Leo a gift, hoping to give it to him that evening. I'd had an old photo of the two of us professionally printed and placed in an elegant silver frame. It had been taken by our parents early in that vacation five years ago. I flashed back to that moment as I sat on the sofa and held the photo in my hands.

  "You two, stand over there." Leo's dad had pointed and waved at Leo and me, indicating we should stand next to each other on the hotel terrace. "Closer. Closer. Leo, she's not going to bite you."

  Leo's shoulder pressed against mine, and I giggled. I didn't know how else to respond to his nearness.

  "This is called the golden hour," my mom chimed in. "Do you see the light? It's golden. Beautiful. You two will look back on this photo and thank us for taking it, because you both look young and perfect right now."

  Things were now as far from perfect as they could possibly be.

  I had to win him back. Had to get us back to that beautiful, perfect place where we were tangled up in each other. I choked back a sob. God, I was doing a lot of crying lately.

  What we'd had as teens was special, but what we could have as adults was sublime. More than ever, I knew the connection I felt for Leo was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and I wasn't going to give up on that easily. But what could I do?

  Maybe the best thing was to let him cool down for another night, and then I'd try apologizing again in the morning. I didn't want to chase him or put more pressure on him. He’d looked devastated. Maybe he just needed a bit of space.

  Frustrated, I opened Mom's journal and continued to read.

  JUNE 12: Jessica continues to be pissed at me over Leo. I didn't think it was possible for a teenage girl to hold a grudge this long. I thought prom and graduation would make her forget about Leo, but she didn't go to prom and spent all of graduation day moping. It's been months. I keep telling her all I want is for her to be her own woman before falling in love. To be self-sufficient and independent. I don't want her to rely on a man at such a young age. I don't want her to be like I was. Young and stupid.

  Tears stung my eyes again. Why hadn't Mom trusted me enough to share her past experiences, to share how Adam had broken her heart? Maybe if she had, I would have understood the whole situation more. Maybe we could have made a smart decision together.

  I kept reading. Mom's journal continued for several more years, but after that one entry, her words and thoughts about Leo and me disappeared. And as the years went on, Mom wrote less and less. The journal became something of a quick log of mundane events, then tapered off and left out entire seasons. I skimmed the remaining words, looking for something, anything that felt relevant.

  The last entry was from a couple months before Mom died.

  JAN. 23: Sometimes when I look at Jessica and Jacob, I feel some regret. I don't like him much, but I'm not going to interfere. She's a woman now, a college graduate, and I'm proud of her. She has to make her own decisions. Her own mistakes. I do wonder if I made a mistake with Leo, and I hope she someday forgives me for my decision about that. What if I kept her from her one true love? I worry about that. I wonder what happened to Leo, if he was sent to the Middle East with the Marines. I pray not.

  But the past is behind us, and we all have regrets to set aside. Regrets of the past are a waste of the spirit. We have to trust the ones we love will succeed, and we have to forgive them when they fail. It's the only way to go forward.

  I folded over, crumpling into a little ball. The tears came, hard and fast. Sadness poured out of me, and for the first time, I understood grief wasn't a linear process. After nearly a year, I finally grasped I'd never be able to ask Mom for advice on anything again. It hit me hard—how I missed her, and how I regretted not making the most of the time we'd had together.

  I shuffled into my bedroom, feeling lower and more depressed than ever. Life was too short, I thought as I drifted off. And everything was so damn complicated.

  That night, I dreamed of Mom. We were walking on the beach, and I was asking her all the questions I'd amassed in my brain. In the dream, Mom refused to answer. She smiled and walked next to me, looking on the ground and pointing at shells near the ocean's waves. In the dream, I felt myself getting frustrated by Mom's silence, and my questions soon turned to pleas, then desperate anger. Why wouldn't Mom answer?

  Mom stopped, her back to the surf, her blue eyes identical to mine.

  "Forgive and trust," she said. "It's the only way to go forward."

  I woke up with a start, my cheeks wet. I checked the time. It was one in the morning, but I knew what needed to be done.

  Chapter 39

  Finding Him

  JESSICA

  ”Leo?"

  This was odd. The bakery door was open. I came here out of desperation, just in case he decided to sleep here despite the asbestos.

  I called his name again, and the sound bounced off the big, industrial appliances. All the lights were on, so when I stepped into the bright bakery kitchen, I expected him to be inside, baking or cleaning. But he was gone.

  Hesitantly, I opened two doors—a bathroom, a storage closet—and then a third. There was a staircase, which must have led up to his apartment. Surely he was up there and had just forgotten to turn out the lights. But I really didn't want him sleeping here with all that toxic dust in the air.

  The hall light was on, and I walked carefully up the wooden steps, as if they would give out under my weight. At the top of the stairs, I knocked softly on the door. Then I knocked again harder. Nothing.

  I tried the doorknob, and it turned easily.

  "Leo?"

  Opening the door, I took in the sparse apartment beyond. One entire wall was ripped out from construction and sealed off with large, heavy sheets of plastic. I tried not to breathe deeply, because of the weird, dusty smell in the air, and felt a wave of annoyance at him and anger at myself. This was crazy. Leo was so damn stubborn, staying in a place with asbestos that might kill him. I'd do anything to convince him to return to the hotel once I found him.

  If only I hadn't been so harsh, he'd still be at the hotel.

  I tiptoed around, calling his name. When he wasn't in the living room, kitchen, or bathroom, that's when I began to move faster through the apartment. The knot in my stomach became tighter. Where was he?

  I paused in what I guessed was his bedroom. There was a futon on a frame with tangled white sh
eets atop the mattress, but no Leo. Heart pounding, I walked to a desk where a laptop was open. My hand shook as I tapped the mouse, making the screen flicker to life.

  The words on the screen made me scowl. It was a news article about an arson at a Marine recruiting center in New Orleans. An awful event I'd seen on CNN. That must have made him feel terrible, after having served his country, but where the hell was he?

  I walked quickly out of the bedroom, went straight outside, and looked for his truck and his Harley. He'd told me he parked both in the alley. There was the Harley, gleaming and still under the streetlight, but his silver F-150 was gone from its usual space. And Leo had left all the lights on and the door open, and it was close to two in the morning? My stomach felt like it was trying to digest shattered glass.

  Running to my VW and firing it up, I drove around the island. There weren't many places he could have logically gone, and I could easily hit all the possibilities because Palmira was so small. No bars were open at this time of night on the island. Had he gone over the bridge to Fort Myers? It wouldn't make sense if he did. Not such a long drive. Leo was too meticulous and careful to leave the bakery and his apartment open like that, wasn't he? What if something had happened to him?

  I swallowed back tears, gripping the steering wheel to stop the trembling in my hands, and turned down the street near the beach where the sand sculptures were. I slowed my car, and there, in a parking space, was his truck.

  I pulled in beside it, peering to see if he was in the cab. Nope. So there was only one place it seemed he could be.

  Practically sprinting to the sculpture, I saw him on the sand, kneeling. As if whispering to the beautiful, ethereal mermaid he'd carved.