Moon Over Montego Bay

by Jane Graves

  Randall narrowed his eyes. "Say it," he growled. "Then get the hell off this island."

  Nick slowly slid his hand away from Randall's neck, still pinning him in place with a threatening glare. "I've made mistakes. One hell of a lot of them. But I'm not the kid I used to be. No matter what you think, I'd never take Sarah away from you because of an old grudge, but I'd sure as hell do it if I thought she was making a mistake. She deserves a better man than you. A man who will love her more than you're remotely capable of."

  "Nobody asked for your fucking opin—"

  "Shut up. I'm not finished yet." He took a deep, shaky breath. "I think Sarah is making a terrible mistake, but if she wants you, that's the way it's going to be. But you're going to treat her right. Do you understand?"

  "So now you're going to lecture me on how to treat a woman?"

  "No. I'm going to lecture you on how to treat this woman."

  "I don't have to listen to—"

  "Yes, by God, you do." Nick inched closer, his eyes narrowed with intent. "You're going to remember the name of the agency she works for. You're going to sell that god-awful house in Chicago and buy something with actual warmth that our mother didn't decorate. If something big happens—you know, like maybe you're taking over an entire company—you're going to talk to her about it first. You're going to treat every single member of her family with the respect they deserve. You're going to turn off that damned phone once in a while and listen to her. And you're going to do everything in your power to stop putting your business first, remember you have a wife, and move heaven and earth to make her happy. And if you ever do anything to hurt her—ever—I will make you sorry you ever drew breath. Do you understand me?"

  Randall swallowed hard. "How could you possibly know what I do or don't do?"

  "Don't underestimate me, Randall. You've been doing it all your life. I swear to God, if you break her heart, I’ll break yours. And I’m not speaking metaphorically."

  Nick gave Randall a cold warning stare, telling him he meant what he said. Then he turned and walked to the elevator lobby. When the elevator came, he punched the button for the third floor and leaned his back against the wall, anger still eating away at him, his head swimming with despair.

  A minute later he opened the door to his room. He grabbed his suitcase and tossed it on the bed, unzipped it, and started stuffing things inside. He moved back and forth from the bathroom to the dresser drawers until the suitcase was full, then did a cursory check to make sure he'd grabbed everything. Just as he was heading to the room safe to retrieve his passport, he heard something outside.

  Music.

  He knew what it was, but he couldn't stop himself from turning back. He slid the balcony door open and stepped outside. In the distance he saw the gazebo. The aisle chairs were tied with bows of gauzy fabric that seemed to float in the sea breeze. Flowers were everywhere. Guests were arriving.

  Then he glanced down the boardwalk to see his mother herding the wedding party carefully around the pool as they headed for the boardwalk. The bridesmaids wore turquoise dresses, their hair upswept. Sarah's father walked along with them, and even at this distance, it was clear that no man had ever been more uncomfortable in a tuxedo. And Sarah…

  She looked beautiful. Angelic. The woman of his dreams.

  He took a long, wistful look at her, feeling like an empty shell with nothing to fill it but the pain of lost hopes and the ache of regret. Then he went back inside his room. He grabbed his passport, stuck it in the front pocket of his suitcase, and headed for the door. The ceremony would begin in eight minutes, and the last thing he wanted was to be there when it did.

  20

  Sarah stood on the boardwalk with her bridesmaids, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Mona had positioned the girls ahead of Sarah, spacing them with military precision. Sarah’s father stood off to one side, pulling at his collar and sweating. Her mother had already been seated for the ceremony, as had the rest of her family. Giselle the wedding planner stood helplessly nearby. With Mona around, what was there for her to do?

  Mona approached Sarah, speaking quietly. "It's almost time for me to take my seat," she said, smiling. "Are you excited?"

  "Yes. And a little nervous, I think."

  "Of course you are, darling. All brides are." To Sarah's surprise, Mona's eyes actually misted over. "I'm so glad this day has finally come."

  "Yes. So am I."

  "I have to say that in the beginning, I wasn't sure about your suitability for my son. But you're so beautiful and accomplished in spite of where you came from. Sometimes it's almost as if the stork dropped you down the wrong chimney, isn't it?"

  Mona smiled at her own attempt at humor, but it was a lefthanded compliment that really annoyed Sarah.

  "But I don't know why I had reservations," Mona went on. "If Randall chose you, of course you'll be the perfect wife. I can't wait for you move to Chicago. I just know we're going to be best friends."

  Best friends? With Mona? Just the thought of it depressed her. Best friends shared values. Interests. Opinions. She had none of that in common with Mona. But of course Mona would think she did. After all, hadn't Sarah spent the past year shoehorning herself into that role? Had there been a moment since she'd met them when she'd actually been herself?

  Still, there it was. That thing she'd wanted so desperately. Her stamp of approval to become a member of the Baxter family.

  Mona checked her watch and then gave Sarah a blissful smile. "Three minutes to go. I'd better take my seat. Good luck, darling. Good luck to both of you!"

  One of the groomsmen acting as an usher held out his arm to her and escorted Mona to her seat. Sarah had a vague thought that Randall's father was nowhere in sight, even now when the wedding was about to begin. How was it possible that he wasn't at his own son's wedding?

  Sarah's father came up beside her. "How are you doing, sweetie?"

  "Good. I'm good." She paused. "Dad? Can I talk to you about something?"

  "Sure. Shoot."

  "You took out a mortgage on the farm to pay my college tuition."

  "Funny time to be talking about that."

  "Maybe someday I can…I don't know. Help you pay it off."

  "Why would you do that?"

  "Because I know how much of a strain it puts on you and Mom."

  "Strain? It's not a strain. Your Mom and I have always gotten along just fine."

  "But I want you to do more than just get by, you know? If you had more money—"

  "Sweetie, money only solves the little problems, like mortgages."

  "Mortgages are little problems? Then what's a big one?"

  "There aren't any big ones, long as I got your Mom."

  Sarah couldn't remember her father ever saying anything like that, and she felt a shot of sentimentality that just about made her cry.

  "Now don't you go telling your mother I said something that sappy," Carl said. "Next thing you know she'll have me watching those chick movies and painting her toenails."

  Sarah told herself her father was just trying to make her feel better about the mortgage. After all, she was only seconds away from walking up the aisle, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. But in her heart she knew better. It was as if she'd been looking at life through the wrong lens all these years. What had made her believe her parents had a problem only Baxter money could solve?

  No matter what challenges they faced, the one thing she'd never questioned was that they loved each other. She'd always wanted a storybook wedding and a storybook life, where she wouldn't have a care in the world. But maybe she had it wrong.

  Security isn't about money. Security is knowing there's another human being on this planet who'll be there for you every day of your life, and if hard times come your way, you'll face them together…

  The words swirled around in her mind, trying to take hold. But all at once she felt lightheaded, as if her blood had slowed to a sluggish crawl, and her mind went blank. The officiant, Randall,
and his groomsmen entered the gazebo from the back and took their places. The officiant nodded to the musicians, and they began the attendants' processional. Liz and Kelsey made their way down the aisle and stood opposite the men, facing the crowd. Everything seemed unreal to Sarah, as if she was standing outside her body watching it happen.

  The music changed to the bride's processional. Everyone stood up and turned around to watch her entrance.

  "Ready to go?" her father said.

  Still in a daze, Sarah took his arm, and the wedding was underway.

  Nick made his way down the elevator and walked to the front desk, where a tall woman with long black dreadlocks stood behind the counter. Her name tag read "Kiki."

  "Yes sir," she said. "What can I do for you?"

  "Nick Baxter. Checking out."

  Kiki tilted her head. "Are you absolutely sure about that?"

  "Yes," Nick said. "I'd like to leave as quickly as possible."

  "But the wedding…aren't you the brother of the groom?"

  For a moment he wondered how she knew that, only to realize that everybody at a resort like this kept up with the special events and the people associated with them. It was part of the first class service he'd paid through the nose for. "Yes, I'm the brother of the groom. But I won't be staying for the wedding."

  "Ah. That's a shame." Kiki typed for a moment, and then her printer began to hum. "Even to keep a promise?"

  "Promise?" Nick said absentmindedly, as he double-checked his passport.

  The printer spit out the statement, and she handed it to Nick. "There you are," she said with a smile. "Have a nice trip home."

  Distracted by his thoughts, Nick just stuffed it into his suitcase and headed for the sliding glass doors leading to the front of the resort. He told the bell captain he was going to the airport and waited for him to bring a car around.

  Wait a minute…what had Kiki just said? Something about a promise?

  He looked back over his shoulder, something tickling his brain he couldn't put his finger on. He asked the bell captain to hold the car and went back inside the building. He strode toward the front desk to talk to Kiki, but he didn’t see her. He looked around, but she was nowhere in sight.

  He approached another clerk. "Where is Kiki?"

  "Kiki?"

  "The clerk who was here not two minutes ago."

  "Uh…I'm sorry, sir. I don't know who you're talking about."

  "Kiki," he said impatiently. "I just spoke to her. She was right there at that comput—"

  All at once he remembered.

  I'm not leaving this island until the end. That's a promise.

  Nick felt a strange little shiver. Was that what Kiki had been talking about?

  Even if you put on that dress, walk up that aisle, say those vows, I'll still be there. And I'll be praying you change your mind.

  No. No way. Kiki had no way of knowing about that. This place offered five-star service, but mental telepathy was pushing it. But now that she'd reminded him of it, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

  He checked his watch. Four minutes after eleven. His mother would be running things like a drill sergeant, which meant Sarah had already walked up the aisle. The wedding party was in place. The officiant had started the ceremony. It was too late.

  It's never too late. Until you say "I do," it's never too late.

  As those words echoed through his mind, a crazy thought shoved its way in. He turned to look across the lobby to the automatic doors leading from the atrium to the pool, his heart beating like mad. Beyond the pool was the boardwalk, which led to the gazebo.

  He told himself he was just a glutton for punishment, that he was just asking for more humiliation. Then he imagined Sarah standing at the front of that gazebo. What if she was having second thoughts? What if she remembered his promise, then looked over her shoulder to see if he was there?

  What if he wasn't?

  Nick had no idea how long the ceremony was going to last. It could end any minute, as far as he knew. Any second.

  It's never too late.

  He abandoned his suitcase and took off running.

  21

  "Do you, Randall Charles Baxter, take Sarah Lynn Renfro to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward..."

  Sarah heard the words, but they seemed odd and muffled, as if she was listening with her head under water.

  "…till death you do part?"

  "I do," Randall said.

  The officiant turned to Sarah, and she was hit with such a burst of anxiety she thought she was going to faint dead away.

  "Do you, Sarah Lynn Renfro, take Randall Charles Baxter…"

  The words seemed garbled, impossible to understand, mingling with the call of seagulls and the soft swish of waves washing onto the shore. Then she realized her fingers hurt, and it was because she was grasping her bouquet so tightly. The calla lilies were so fragile they were already wilting.

  Carnations…I just want carnations…perky little carnations…

  Then out of nowhere, she remembered something Nick had told her. At first it was just a faint memory, but slowly it grew stronger and clearer, filling her mind.

  Even if you put on that dress, walk up that aisle, say those vows, I'll still be there.

  No. He hadn't meant that. It had just been part of his plan, and his plan hadn't worked. He knew he was beaten, so he was probably gone by now. Maybe he was already on a plane back to the States, bidding good riddance to Montego Bay, the brother he hated, and the woman he'd lied to.

  "…till death you do part?"

  Sarah opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. It was as if she'd totally lost the ability to speak. But her brain wouldn't shut up, repeating the promise Nick had made.

  What if he had meant it?

  Randall stared at her impatiently, but the words still wouldn't come. She imagined friends and family giving each other questioning looks, wondering why she wasn't saying "I do." But all she could think about was the possibility that Randall had been wrong about Nick's motives. And if he had…

  Maybe every word Nick had spoken to her was the truth. Maybe he really did love her.

  Maybe he'd kept his promise and was there right now.

  Daring to hope, she looked over her shoulder. For a moment she thought she must be asleep, because only in dreams did things like this happen.

  Nick was standing at the back of the gazebo.

  Suddenly she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. With the officiant's question still hanging in the air, people turned around one by one to see what she was looking at. When they saw Nick, they began to murmur among themselves. Nick just stood there, watching and waiting, as if his future depended on whether she said those two little words.

  Both of their futures.

  "Sarah!" Randall whispered impatiently. "It's your turn. Say it!"

  He flicked his gaze to the back of the gazebo, and from the barely-concealed animosity on his face she could tell he'd spotted Nick. Randall wanted her to say the words. To wrap up this wedding before Nick could cause any more problems. To check Get married off his to-do list.

  But something was missing. Something that went to the very heart of the relationship between a man and a woman. Something that for all the times Randall had said it, she still couldn't bring herself to believe it.

  "Do you love me?" she whispered.

  He blinked. "What?"

  "I asked you if you love me."

  "Of course I do."

  "Why?"

  "Uh…what?"

  "It's a simple question. Why do you love me?"

  Randall flicked his gaze to the officiant, who he evidently hoped would intercede. No such luck.

  "That's not what you're supposed to say," Randall whispered.

  "I'm going off script."

  "Sarah. This is not the place for this."

  "Really? You don't think a wedding is a perfect place to tell your bride why you love her?"

  The
crowd's murmurs escalated. "Don't do this," Randall said in an angry whisper. "Not in the middle of our wedding."

  "Our wedding?" she whispered back. "Our wedding? Since when has it been our wedding? It's your mother's wedding!"

  Randall grabbed her arm and pulled her aside out of earshot of the guests. "Damn it, Sarah! Will you just say 'I do' and get this over with?"

  "Answer my question."

  Randall edged closer and whispered angrily. "I offer to take care of your parents' mortgage, and this is how you repay me?"

  "So it's a business deal, and I'm not following through?"

  Randall just glared at her, frustration running wild on his face, and that was when she knew for sure. He wasn’t marrying her. He was marrying a woman who’d look good on his arm, speak when spoken to, wouldn’t spend him into the poorhouse, and gave him sex whenever he wanted it. To be fair, when Nick had pressed her to answer the same question about Randall, she'd had nothing to say, either.

  How much more wrong could this possibly be?

  If she was going to get married, she wanted do it at the First Baptist Church of Big Fork, Texas, with Pastor Jenkins officiating instead of this guy she didn't even know. She wanted to be surrounded by all her friends and family, not just the few who had sacrificed thousands of dollars to be there. She wanted white linens. She wanted carnations.

  And she wanted the man who really loved her.

  Randall's face grew dark with anger. "This is because of Nick, isn't it? Somehow he got to you. You know you can't believe a word he says. Didn't I tell you he would ruin everything?"

  "He hasn't ruined anything. He just made me see something I should have seen a long time ago."

  "What?"

  "The boy on the beach had it right, Randall. You nah ah nice mon.”

  As Randall's jaw dropped halfway to the floor, Sarah walked back to where she'd stood before and faced the people present. "Sorry, y'all. There's not going to be a wedding here today."

  A collective gasp went up from the crowd.