"Yeah," he said, squinting at them.
Maureen winced. "Hi Greg."
"Maureen." Greg straightened up and looked her over. "Wow."
Maureen grinned and Colleen realized that through Greg's eyes she must look vastly different. Maureen had worked hard to lose weight and get fit after giving birth to the twins. She had gone harder at her fitness regime than ever. She had been determined to fit in with Tucker's mother and her country club set. She had also gotten a hairstyle to flatter her oval face and wore makeup that emphasized her dominant brown eyes.
Greg belatedly looked over at Colleen and his eyes widened. "Colleen? Wow, you both look different...sophisticated."
"Hi Greg." Colleen smiled. "Can I say it is nice to see you?" She went over and hugged him. "You look great…for a dead man."
"Thanks," Greg said and then looked at Maureen again. "Your mother filled me in. She said you want a divorce?"
"Yes," Maureen said apologetically, hunting in her bag for the divorce papers.
Greg looked past this stranger who was once Maureen and saw the car at the gate. It was a late model Mercedes. Obviously her new husband had money. There was a man in it. He wondered if that was her husband. Her mother had said she also had twins. He felt a pinch of nostalgia as she finally produced the papers and a pen.
"Surely you could come in and we could talk," Greg said. "How is Junior? Did you bring him?"
Maureen shook her head. "No, sorry, he has school today and then chess practice. He's the chess champion at his school."
"Yes. I know it's a school day but surely you could have made an exception..." His voice trailed away.
Maureen inhaled shakily; her hands were shaking on the papers. "He doesn't know you, Greg. Tucker adopted him years ago. I have told him about you but you can understand that this will take a lot of explaining for us to convince him of who you are. The situation is kind of weird..."
Greg staggered a bit from this harshly delivered truth.
"But...he's my son, regardless."
Tucker got out of the car and came toward them. Tucker was a tall guy, with long sideburns. He wore glasses that gave him a bookish air and had a patrician nose that flared out slightly at the tips. The best way to describe Tucker was that he was distinguished looking.
He was the opposite of Greg. Colleen looked from one to the other. In Maureen's eyes, Greg would not stand a chance.
Tucker introduced himself to Greg and shook his roughened hand with his manicured one and then stood beside Maureen.
Maureen held out the paper to Greg and he looked at it like it was going to eat him. Colleen felt sorry for him. He looked like he didn't want to sign but she could see that he was intimidated by Maureen's changed appearance and Tucker's imposing presence. Both of them standing there together like that looked like people who didn't interact with regular fishermen. He took the paper reluctantly, after staring at it, and then pressed it up on the wall and slowly signed it.
Maureen breathed a sigh of relief and took it from him.
"So, what about Junior?" Greg asked the two of them. "Will I get a chance to see him?"
Tucker looked at Maureen and then at Greg. "We could introduce you to him and then as things progress we’ll see where it leads. I must warn you, though, he is not a very easy little person when it comes to changes and he may not be as warm to the idea of meeting you."
Greg exhaled and nodded jerkily. "I don't mind, I just want to meet him. He must be big now. I mean, when I left he was two. Thank you, I guess."
"You are welcome," Tucker said formally. "Thank you for not prolonging this process."
"Well, bye then, Greg," Maureen said briskly. "When you get a telephone call me and leave your number." She took out a shiny business card and handed it to him.
"O…okay." Greg mumbled, looking lost as he clutched the business card in his hand. You could see that he had wanted to talk but Maureen was having no touchy-feely remembering moments. She just wanted to stick to the business of getting him out of her life.
When Maureen and Tucker walked away, Greg looked at Colleen. "Is this how you are going to blindside Isaiah too?"
Colleen looked surprised. She had never really thought about what she would do, but she would never treat Isaiah this way. They were friends first and foremost and she had no pressing reason to hurry him out of her life like Maureen did to Greg.
Well, no pressing reason except for Enrique. Even then she couldn't envision letting him go so easily.
"No," she said out loud to Greg.
"Good. Because how that guy adores you even after all this time, I think you should let him down gently. Since you are obviously way out of his league now."
Chapter Twelve
"Darn!" Enrique checked his emails as soon as he hit New York. They were in a Town Car and he was en route home to see his wife. He missed her. The Internet had been dodgy in the Maldives and the phone had been down because of a freak storm. It had been a semi-productive time for him because of the storm and because he had constantly thought of Colleen. Three days and no contact with her had distracted him a bit.
"What?" Jorge asked him, looking up from his computer. "New development in the bidding war for the island?"
"No," Enrique said to his colleague faintly. "My wife's husband is back from the dead."
"Ha." Jorge grinned. "Good one. Your wife's husband? Wouldn't that be you? I know Maldives seemed hellish with the storm, but jeez, you aren't exactly back from the dead."
Enrique ran his fingers through his hair. "Lia, check my schedule. Do I have anything important lined up?"
Lia nodded. He had really upbraided her about what she had implied to Colleen and she had been extremely subdued over the past couple of days. She had the potential to be a good realtor and people usually liked her. That lie had almost cost her her job and she realized that.
"You have an appointment with a royal, next week Monday."
"Middle East, European or what?" Enrique asked impatiently.
"European," Lia said tapping the screen.
"Take me back to the airport," Enrique said to the driver. He tapped the divider impatiently. He searched for available flights while the driver searched for a way to turn back to the airport. "I am going to Jamaica. I am going to have to personally reschedule with the royal or have Jorge handle it."
"Cool," Jorge said. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute. If your wife has a husband...does that mean you are in a group marriage?"
"Shut up," Enrique said, raking his finger through his hair. "This is no time for jokes, Jorge."
He looked at the email again. Colleen wrote the note two days ago. Which meant that she was in Jamaica, in a reunion with Isaiah, the love of her life. The idea made him feel nauseous.
He had lost already. It had always been Isaiah for Colleen. He wondered how Isaiah had managed to return from the dead.
He grabbed his laptop and searched the Jamaican local paper’s website and found the story on both of the major newspapers.
He read through it with panic building. He clenched his fingers and then straightened them out; it was doing nothing to relax him. Both Jorge and Lia were watching him with blatant concern.
"You really love her, don't you?" Lia asked.
"You think?" Enrique asked impatiently. "Why do you think I married her after a few days of seeing her again? Yes, I love her but unfortunately, that may not be enough right now."
He wished he could see exactly what was happening in Jamaica right now. He cursed the few hours he would have to endure on the flight and then the nearly two hours’ drive to Whitehouse.
He called his father and realized that his hand was trembling. His father greeted him urgently. "Where are you?"
"Still in New York," Enrique said. "I was in the Maldives. I guess you heard about the fishermen returning from the dead?"
"Yes," Franco said hoarsely. "Where is Colleen?"
"In Whitehouse." Enrique sighed. "I need a drive from the airpo
rt."
"I will personally come pick you up," Franco replied. "Oh son. If you had waited a few more months then you could save your self this heartache."
Enrique pressed his hand to his throbbing temple. "No Dad, I doubt that. I would still be feeling as if someone dropped a rock in my belly."
He closed his eyes and leaned back in the car seat. He hoped that the few months meant something to Colleen. He really hoped they made an impact. It was their few months against her detailed past with Isaiah.
He rubbed his chest absently to loosen the block of pain that was lodged there.
****
Tucker drew up to Isaiah’s house and Colleen got out. "Thanks guys," she said when she got out. "I'll take it from here."
"You better call me," Maureen said. She looked a little sad. "Tell Isaiah hi."
When they drove away, Colleen stood at the gate nervously. She thought that the next time she would come back here would be to clear out their place from the memories and set herself free. Back then she had been a widow. Now, she wasn’t.
She pushed the gate. It was early enough in the day; the children would be at school and Miss Lou would be at her shop. She walked the couple of steps to the door where she had lived with Isaiah and knocked.
She felt odd knocking on the door now. Her palms were damp. She nervously wiped her hands on her skirt and knocked again.
"Coming." It was Isaiah's voice, like smooth honey.
Colleen closed her eyes and savored it. She had never thought that she would hear his voice again.
The door opened a crack and then wider and wider, and they were both staring at each other. Colleen looked him over eagerly. It was the same old features, except more mature. Hs skin was still the same toffee color and his eyes deep, dark brown.
He was also bulkier, as Maureen had said. He had a long puckered scar, about ten inches long, on his hand. She wondered what that was about. He didn't have that when he left. And then she looked into shocked brown eyes.
"Colleen?" Isaiah whispered.
Colleen pushed through the door and into his arms. "I can't believe that you are here," she sobbed.
They hugged each other for what seemed like an eternity.
Colleen finally pulled away. "Sorry, I was never a pretty crier."
"You look gorgeous," Isaiah said huskily. He cupped her cheeks and slowly brushed away a tear. "Come on in."
She walked into their place and stopped at the door. "I kept your stuff."
"So I see," Isaiah sat on the bed and looked at her. "And that I don't understand."
"What?" Colleen walked to the bathroom and splashed her face with water. Her eyes were red and puffy.
"Why is it that you left everything the way it was and then I hear that you are married to another man?"
Isaiah's voice sounded closer than she thought it would be, and Colleen spun around. Isaiah was leaning at the doorjamb with a frown on his face.
"I had a hard time letting you go," Colleen said hoarsely. "Everybody thought I was stupid to be grieving for so long. Even I thought it was unhealthy after a while and then..."
"Then Enrique Lopez came to Jamaica and swept you off your feet?" he asked without emotion, but Colleen could see that his jaw was ticking as if he was not quite as controlled as he wanted to appear.
She nodded. "Yes, something like that."
"He always had the hots for you," Isaiah murmured. "He had this way of watching you when we were in high school. I used to watch you to see if you were aware of it, but you never seemed to notice."
Except for that one time, Colleen thought silently. That one electric time.
Isaiah moved from the door and said flatly, "So now he got his chance with you."
Colleen followed Isaiah into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. The windows were open and a breeze wafted through the room. She closed her eyes and inhaled. She didn't want to discuss her time with Enrique; it made her feel guilty. She was here with Isaiah.
Isaiah whom she loved and longed for, for five whole years, and yet now that she was here she realized how much she missed Enrique.
Just now when she hugged Isaiah it hadn't felt the same. There was no surge of lightning, no overwhelming chemistry. She wondered if Enrique had ruined her for any other man.
She shook off the thought and focused on Isaiah. "I am happy that you are alive. I want to hear everything."
Isaiah sat beside her and took up her hands, running his finger over the platinum gold ring that Enrique had bought for her.
She had forgotten that she was wearing it.
Isaiah glanced at her and then down at the ring. "I can't blame you for moving on and I realize that I have no right to be jealous or feel angry that you are with Enrique now but God, Colleen, this hurts."
He dropped her hand and closed his eyes.
Colleen touched his back. "Isaiah..."
"Don't touch me," Isaiah gritted out, "please. Not right now. I am not feeling very controlled right now. We are sitting on our bed, you are...were my wife..." He inhaled raggedly.
That's when Colleen realized that she was playing with fire. She moved away from him slightly.
"You asked me how it was?" Isaiah shrugged. "It wasn't that bad. They captured us one day and carried us to an island where we worked like slaves. Memories of you—of us—kept me going. I prayed and hoped that one day I’d come home to you. When we were freed I was nervous..."
"Why?" Colleen asked.
"Because I envisioned a scenario like Rip Van Winkle, where everything had changed when I got home. I was fearful that when I got here that everyone would have gotten on quite fine without me, and I was right. Mama is fine and thriving, the kids are okay. You..." he inhaled. "You are married to someone else. I am a stranger; I have to start all over."
"I kept your boat," Colleen said softly.
"I heard." Isaiah grimaced. "If they had just rescued us three months earlier. Just three months..."
"Then I wouldn't have married Enrique." Colleen sighed. "I would be here and this whole scenario would have played out differently."
"Do you love him?" Isaiah asked hoarsely. "I have to know, or is it a thing with money or you just wanted sex?"
"Oh Lord," Colleen said, getting up. "It's not money. I had money. I may not have been rich but I had a job. I was working over at Sea Breeze. I didn't pay rent, I ate at work. I basically helped out here."
"Dan told me," Isaiah said. "Thanks for helping out with them. You didn't have to do it."
"I wanted to do it," Colleen said, seizing on the change of conversation. "Dan wants to be a doctor."
"He passed his exams," Enrique said. "The kid is bright…I am proud of him. He won't be scrounging around like the rest of us. Trying to eke out a living from the sea."
"You are going back to fishing?" Colleen asked. "I can't believe it."
Isaiah shrugged. "It has its rewards. People like the Lopezes can't get to serve fish in their fancy restaurants if people like me don't go and get it for them. If I hadn't had this unforeseen five-year lull in my life, I would be much further along now. We could probably be living in that dream house by the land up the road. And have a child or two."
"Oh yes." Colleen nodded. Somehow that dream used to make her smile; it did nothing for her now. She was outgrowing Whitehouse; what was once the epitome of luxury in her mind was just ordinary. She had been introduced to more; she had dared to dream big.
"You never answered," Isaiah said sharply. "Do you love Enrique?"
Colleen looked at Isaiah, not really hearing his question. She was shaken by that insidious thought that popped out of nowhere. She didn't like this room anymore now that she had spent time in a much bigger space, in better surroundings. She had changed and she had not even realized it.
"Colleen?" Isaiah got up, too, and stood before her. "Look at me."
Colleen looked at him, a confused look in her eyes. "I don't know."
Isaiah exhaled.
"You are stil
l my wife, you know that, don't you?" Isaiah said, cupping her cheeks.
His hands felt rough and calloused on her skin.
Colleen forced herself to stand still. She knew Isaiah was going to kiss her; she could see it in his eyes. The thought made her uncomfortable. It would be cheating on Enrique.
"But I am married to Enrique too," she said, stepping away. "This whole situation is confusing."
Isaiah dropped his hand. "You can say that again."
He wanted to ask her if she liked having sex with Enrique, how often they did it, and if she ever thought of him, but he didn’t; that would be more information than his fragile mind could handle.
"So what are we going to do?" Isaiah asked.
"I don't know." Colleen removed the clip that was holding back her curls and allowed them to come cascading down her shoulders in a thick mass. She sat on the bed and massaged her scalp.
He jealously watched her fingers as they caressed her hair. "What is Maureen going to do?"
"She is doing an accelerated divorce from Greg and then remarrying Tucker."
"Oh," Isaiah twisted his mouth. "Greg is planning to go on a farm work program. He'll probably go to Canada soon. He'll survive."
"But you won't?" Colleen asked softly.
"I want you to be happy," Isaiah said, "that's all I've ever wanted."
Chapter Thirteen
Enrique's head throbbed when he entered the villa. He was running on adrenalin. He had been traveling non-stop for more than twenty-four hours. His father's driver had actually dropped him home because he had been practically cast-eyed when he landed. He dropped his bag in the hallway and headed to the master bedroom; there was no sign that Colleen had been there.
He slumped on the bed with his head in his hands and then laid back and looked in the coffered ceiling. He needed to sleep. He needed to stop thinking. He picked up his phone and dialed Colleen's number. She wasn't answering. This was his twenty-fifth time trying. He dropped the phone on the bed and pulled himself up, heading for the shower.
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