Long-Lost Bride

by Day Leclaire

  The ladder trembled rather violently. “There’s a subfloor,” she explained. “It’s not likely anyone will fall through that.”

  “No, they’ll just trip and break something.”

  “You know...” Strands of ivy fluttered from her hands, snaking affectionately around his boots. “It’s funny you should mention the holes. Jumbo will have them taken care of by the end of the day.”

  “Would you care to tell me how Jumbo will take care of it?”

  She cleared her throat. “I think I’ll leave that as a surprise.”

  He frowned. Reaching up, he plucked her off the ladder before she fell off and set her in front of him. She stood there, her expression so full of hope, he found it painful to witness. “And will it be as much of a surprise as your un-Christmas decorations?”

  “Count on it.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” He leaned down and carefully untwined the strands of ivy from around his ankles before he found himself nose-down in one of Shayne’s holes. As tempted as he was to rip the garland apart, he didn’t think he could face her expression if he accidentally damaged it. Winding the garland into a neat coil, he set it aside. Then he eyed the twinkling fairy lights—the tea rose blush pink twinkling fairy lights—the puce-purple bows and blue ivy that looked amazingly green to his eyes. “Honey, I hate to tell you this, but it’s all got to go.”

  Her soft mouth quivered in a way he longed to ease with a kiss so hard and time-consuming it would wipe every other thought from her head. “But... why?”

  Before he could explain even one of his objections, a knock sounded at the front door. No doubt sensing a reprieve, Shayne darted around him and tugged it open. Doña Isabella filled the doorway. And hovering at her side, her tiny hand clinging to the Doña’s, stood his daughter. She gazed at them with huge, apprehensive eyes, shrinking closer to her great-grandmother.

  Shayne greeted them with a huge grin. “Doña Isabella. What a pleasant surprise.” She stooped to the little girl’s level. “And this must be Sarita. Hello, sweetie.”

  Sarita buried her face against the old woman’s skirts, then peeked at them, the prettiest smile Chaz had ever seen slipping free.

  The Doña looked around inquisitively. “I hope we haven’t arrived at an inconvenient time.”

  “How can it be inconvenient since I’m sure you planned it that way?” Chaz asked dryly.

  Shayne chuckled. “You just ignore him. It’s not inconvenient at all.” She threw the door wide and gestured for them to enter. “Now don’t trip on the holes in the floor. We’ll have those covered up before the end of the day.”

  The cane paused mid-tap. “Holes in the floor?”

  “You know... That’s just what Chaz said when he first saw them. Of course, he said it a bit louder.”

  “Shayne!”

  “Just like that, as a matter of fact.”

  Sarita tugged on her great-grandmother’s hand and pointed to Shayne’s latest “cosmetic” contributions to his house. “Abuelita, mira! Qué bonita.”

  Abuelita? Chaz fought to suppress a grin, with only limited success. Somehow he’d never pictured anyone having the nerve to call the austere Doña Isabella “little grandmother.” But apparently his baby girl was an exception. One look at his nemesis, however, killed his grin dead.

  Once she deemed him appropriately cut down to size by her razor-sharp glare, she turned her attention to their surroundings. “What beautiful Christmas decorations,” she commented with admirable sincerity. “You have done a lovely job.”

  Shayne shot Chaz an uneasy glance before addressing their guest. “Oh, they’re not for Christmas. Goodness, no. I just thought they looked pretty. But if you notice, I didn’t use any Christmas colors, which means they’re not...”

  She trailed off dispiritedly and Chaz felt like an utter heel. She’d worked so hard to get the place spruced up and ready. And all for his daughter, all so he’d be granted custody by the black vulture hovering beside Sarita. He gave in to the inevitable. “Glad you like it. Shayne deserves all the credit. She’s worked hard on making the place perfect for the holidays. I assume you’re here for the grand tour?”

  “If it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

  “Now why would you think that?” he asked dryly.

  “How about if I show you around?” Shayne hastened to suggest. “That way you can make suggestions for any changes that occur to you.”

  Doña Isabella graciously inclined her head. “That would be acceptable.”

  “Great! Where would you like to start?”

  “Have you prepared a bedroom for Sarita?”

  “That was my first project. Come this way.” She stuck her hand behind her back and waved Chaz off. Then she held out that same hand to Sarita. His daughter spared him a brief, wistful glance, before slipping her fingers into Shayne’s and trotting down the hall with the two women. To his dismay, that single look squeezed something he thought long dead. Chaz closed his eyes. He really needed to do something about opening up that cussin’ bar. Right now he had the overwhelming urge to cuss up a storm while swigging down a gulp or two of rotgut—anything to ease the unexpected pain centered in a forgotten place deep in his chest.

  “Keep in mind that we can change the colors of the walls if you don’t care for them,” Shayne offered as she led the way deeper into the far recesses of the house. “And the furniture can be replaced, too.”

  “You are very accommodating,” Doña Isabella murmured.

  Something in the woman’s tone caught Shayne’s attention and a small frown etched a path across her brow. “You make that sound like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It could be, if it’s not sincere.”

  Shayne pushed open the door to the room she’d prepared for Sarita and waited until the little girl was preoccupied exploring her surrounds before turning to the Doña. “I’ll make you a promise, Isabella,” she stated with quiet conviction. “I’ll never lie to you. And I’ll never pretend to feel something I don’t. I’ll also treat that little girl as if I’d brought her into this world myself. She’ll never have a moment’s doubt that she’s both loved and wanted. And she’ll never, ever be made to think she’s a burden.”

  “A burden?” Doña Isabella’s eyebrows drew together over her hooked nose. “What an odd suggestion. Explain where it comes from.”

  Shayne didn’t want to answer, but gaining this woman’s trust and understanding was paramount. Reluctantly, she opened a small part of her soul that she’d rather have kept far from prying eyes. “I lost my parents when I was three. My aunt raised me.”

  “It was not a successful relationship?” Doña Isabella asked delicately.

  It took a full minute before Shayne could reply. “My brother, Rafe, rescued me when I was thirteen.”

  “I see.” No doubt she did, too. Doña Isabella hadn’t lived so many years without witnessing what life had to offer, both for good and ill. “And you will see to it that my Sarita does not share your fate?”

  “You have my word.”

  For a long moment, hard black eyes held her, boring straight through to her heart. And then the Doña inclined her head. “I believe you.” Turning her attention to the bedroom, she sighed with pleasure. “This is quite lovely.”

  Shayne had worked hard on the room, trying to turn it into a safe retreat for a little girl. Feeling safe when you’re torn from the only family you’d ever known was important. Even after all these years, she still remembered that. She’d chosen creamy white furniture to match the soft wool carpet. The walls were a sunny yellow with the bedding in yellow and white pinstripes trimmed in Swiss lace. She’d also gone out of her way to provide lidded boxes in bright colors and secret cubbyholes for storing private treasures. But what had instantly captured Sarita’s attention was the doll propped up on the window seat. She’d not dared to touch, but instead had knelt beside the box, staring with great dark, hungry eyes.

  Shayne joined her on the window seat. “Your daddy bo
ught that for you. Would you like to open it?”

  With an excited nod, Sarita picked up the box and carefully pried open the lid. The packaging defeated her, so Shayne gave her a hand. From that point on, the doll never left Sarita’s arms, the object of periodic hugs and whispered conversations.

  Shayne indicated a door on the far side of the room. “There’s a bathroom that opens onto an adjoining bedroom,” she explained to the Doña, before pointing out the huge walk-in closet to Sarita. “If you go in there, you’ll find a secret tunnel hidden in the far back. Why don’t you crawl through and we’ll meet you on the other side?”

  Doña Isabella lifted an eyebrow in question. “We will take another route, I trust?”

  “We’ll go through the bathroom,” Shayne reassured with an understanding smile. “You can make sure the fixtures are acceptable.”

  The Doña’s keen gaze didn’t miss a thing about the way the plumbing had been set up. And though she lifted an eyebrow in question at some of the features Shayne had chosen, she contained her curiosity. Tapping her way into the second bedroom, she looked around, wordless.

  Facing south, the room embraced the sunlight, glowing with vibrant gemstone colors. Although Shayne had wanted to use a thick, luxurious carpet that could be difficult for people with canes, so she’d settled for a short, tight weave that wouldn’t catch at unwary feet. But she’d compensated for the loss with the accessories, making them rich in texture and restful to the eye. The bed and dresser only took up a small portion of the room. Against one wall, she’d set a cozy love seat, perfect for snuggling with a little girl and in another section, a roomy “play area” with comfortable chairs, an inlaid wooden card table and a small entertainment center.

  Shayne shot Dona Isabella a quick, nervous glance, before erupting into speech. “There’s a private phone line and your own TV with a satellite hookup—the cable companies refuse to run their lines this far—so you can watch Oprah or the soaps or one of the Spanish channels. Since this room is larger than Sarita’s, I’ve put an itty-bitty kitchenette in one corner, in case you don’t care for Mojo’s cooking. Though, my goodness, he’s quite a wonder with a skillet. Just don’t let his face scare you the first time you see it. He’s a little sensitive.” She pointed to a long, blank wall, begging for some pictures and chattered on. “Maybe this spring I can convince Chaz to poke a hole in the wall over there for a door and build you a small outdoor patio. He’s sort of funny about poking holes in the walls, but don’t let that worry you. We can also add on a private bath, if you’d rather not share. Now, there is a third spare bedroom which has its own, but that’s further away from Sarita and right next to our bedroom. It’s more of a nursery, if you catch my drift. So, I thought... I thought this room would be best.”

  Doña Isabella waited until she’d run out of air before asking, “You designed this for me?”

  Shayne twisted her hands together. “I understand you probably have relatives clamoring for you to live with them back in Mexico. But I also know how it is to lose the one person you love most in the world. It would make Sarita happy if you stayed.” She couldn’t tell how the Doña was taking the offer. “Or if you must go, we can keep this room for whenever you visit.”

  Sarita poked her head out of the walk-in closet. Seeing them, she beamed. “Abuelita! I came through the tunnel.”

  Doña Isabella stared at a point just above the wrought-iron headboard of the bed. “What is this tunnel?”

  “Oh, that.” Shayne looped a strand of hand behind her ear. “You see, the closets were back-to-back, so I had a passageway knocked through so they’d connect. That way Sarita could slip in for a visit whenever she wanted.”

  Tears filled Dona Isabella’s eyes. “You did this for me?” she whispered. “You truly wish me to stay?”

  Shayne didn’t hesitate. “Yes, please. I think family’s important and you’re all Sarita has left of her mother.”

  The old woman fought for composure. “McIntyre will not approve.”

  “Oh, well. We’ll just tell him it’s temporary until he gets used to the idea.”

  “That may take quite a while.”

  “He’ll come around. He pretends he’s heartless, but his heart’s in there somewhere.” It had to be. “We’ll root around until we find it. What do you say? Want to help?”

  A single tear followed the network of lines down Doña Isabella’s face, though a fierce, innate pride kept her from breaking down completely. “It may be interesting to remain, if for its amusement factor, alone.”

  Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. “Perhaps you won’t mind if I break the news to him?”

  A hint of laughter replaced Isabella’s tears. “I would like to be a fly in the wall for that conversation.”

  Shayne grinned. “Somehow I suspect I’m the one who’ll be in the wall.”

  Gnarled fingers reached out to touch Shayne’s cheek and the Doña murmured softly in Spanish, “Are you very certain you want to do this, child?”

  “Quite certain,” she replied in the same language, wondering how the Dona knew she was fluent. Perhaps Rafe wasn’t the only one capable of hiring a private investigator. Considering how protective the Doña was of Sarita’s well-being, Shayne could see her taking every possible precaution. “I’m in charge of creating a home. I wouldn’t be doing a proper job, if that home didn’t include you. Please stay with us. Chaz doesn’t realize it, yet, but we need you.”

  “Walk me to the front door, if you will.” Doña Isabella tucked her hand into the crook of Shayne’s arm and signaled to Sarita who obediently followed, whispering secrets to her new doll. “You may tell Senor McIntyre I have agreed to let him have custody of his daughter. Perhaps that will ease his anger a trifle when he learns the rest. Tell him also that until I’m satisfied that my great-granddaughter is properly settled, I will stay for a visit.”

  “An indefinite visit.”

  “Yes.” Isabella broke down and smiled—a smile of unexpected beauty. “Most definitely indefinite.”

  They found Jumbo in the hallway, carefully filling one of the holes in the floor with the first of the mosaic squares she’d had shipped from Costa Rica. It was from a set of twelve, each a depiction of one of the months of the year. Beside her, Isabella drew an astonished breath. “Where did you get this piece?” she asked, still speaking in Spanish.

  “I made it.”

  Isabella stilled. “You are an artisan?”

  “In my spare time.”

  “And your name before you married?”

  “Shayne Beaumont.”

  “I have seen your work, Shayne Beaumont. There was a mosaic piece I viewed quite recently...” Her brow drew together and she rapped her cane sharply against the floor. “But of course. On loan to the museum in San Francisco. It was quite striking. A man, half in darkness, half in light.”

  “It took me quite a while to create that one. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever finish it. But, I have to admit, it’s my very favorite.”

  “Does your husband know?”

  Shayne shook her head. “And I’d rather it stayed that way, if you don’t mind.”

  Isabella shrugged without offering any promises. “I remember thinking at the time that the man reminded me of someone. Now I realize who. The resemblance to McIntyre is quite striking.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I was a foolish old woman not to see it before.” Dona Isabella’s eyes narrowed, as something else occurred to her. “You said this work took you a while to create. How long a while might that be?”

  “I worked on it sporadically over an eight-year period. At one point I gave up on it altogether. But my sister-in-law helped me through some tough times and encouraged me to finish what I’d started.”

  “Then...” Isabella released her breath in a gusty sigh. “You knew McIntyre long ago. Before my Madalena came into his life.”

  “We were briefly married,” Shayne confessed, wondering how the Dona would receive the news. �
�But my brother thought I was too young and had it annulled.”

  “This explains much that I did not understand.”

  Apprehension filled her. “Has it changed your mind about coming to live with us?”

  “No, my dear.” To Shayne’s delight, Doña Isabella leaned forward and embraced her. “It has proven to me that I made the right decision. But you should tell your husband about this artwork and allow him to judge it for himself.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Because it is too revealing,” Doña Isabella guessed shrewdly. “It is sad to see two people so much in love and so afraid to show it.”

  “You’re wrong! Chaz doesn’t love me.”

  Isabella regarded her with open amusement. “When you are as old as I, you will see the folly of your words, as well as this decision regarding your artwork. And when you do, you will either laugh with your husband over your foolishness. Or...”

  “Or?” Shayne prompted, dreading the response.

  “Or you will cry in your lonely bed, filled with regrets that come far too late.” And with that, she took Sarita’s hand in hers and tapped her way to the front door.

  “What do you mean she’s left? Where’s Sarita?” Chaz shot from behind his desk, ready to chase them down. Dammit all, he’d drag the old crow back by her hooked nose, if necessary. In fact, he half hoped it would be. “I...I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.”

  “It’s all right,” Shayne attempted to soothe. “She’ll be back.”

  “What did the witch tell you? Will she let us have Sarita?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Pretty much? What the hell does that mean?” He thrust a hand through his hair, his gut twisting at his wife’s sudden nervousness. “Let me guess. More conditions?”