Accidental Shield: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Snow, Nicole

  We’d been so comfortable around each other before, when I thought we were married. but now...

  Now it just feels stifling. Neither of us knows what to say or how to be.

  “Fine,” I say, awkwardly second-guessing my choice of words. “I mean, sure.”

  He looks at me, and I can feel his sadness as well as my own.

  “I’m sorry for all this shit, Val. I wish I’d done better.”

  “Me, too, Flint. I get why you had your reasons.”

  I walk beside him to where he has a towel laid out on the sand.

  I sit down on it, digging my butt into the comforting warmth of the beach, and say, “You can go back in the water, too, if you want. I’ll just sit here and watch.”

  “Is that what you want?” he asks.

  Whatever else I’ve learned about him, I know he’ll do what I ask, if he thinks he’s helping me. “It’d be a shame for you and Bryce to waste such a beautiful afternoon. I just need some sun.”

  And some space, I almost add, but keep my mouth shut. There’re too many feelings to even try to process.

  “Okay. Be back soon.”

  He starts walking away and my gaze drifts out to sea. A few lazy white sailboats bob in the distance, probably tourist ships or rich locals out for sun and wind. In the island life, you’re never far from a beautiful sunset or a fortifying breeze.

  Normally, it’s enough to banish your worries, your fears, your defeats. I wish I was so lucky.

  Flint is almost out of earshot when I see Savanny, flicking his tail at the sand and licking one paw. “Flint?”

  He turns and looks at me.

  I point to the cat, who’s taken another step toward the water, watching Bryce intently. “Will you carry Savanny back to play?”

  He looks at the cat and smiles. “Gotcha. Never seen a cat who loves the water like a frigging monk seal, but this one sure does.”

  “He likes being with people,” I say. “He’s gone everywhere with me ever since I got him. I’m sure I took him out on boat rides many times.”

  A frown pulls at my lips as my mind flashes to orange flame, churning water, me screaming for Savanny through this dark, fierce chaos. It makes me cringe.

  “You okay?” Flint asks.

  I nod glumly, but then ask, “Do you know the men after me?”

  He shakes his head. “Not personally. They were wearing the symbols of a local group, though. Real shady assholes.”

  “Do you know why they’re after me? What they want?”

  He looks at me intently for a moment, then says, “You didn’t do anything. Let me carry Savanny out to Bryce, then I’ll come back and tell you what I do know.”

  I nod, watching him walk over to the cat. Flint shouts to Bryce, who turns his paddleboard around and moves closer to shore. Flint picks up Savanny and carries him into the water, and I notice his back then.

  Scars. Terrible ones, round and glinting in the sun, as if he’d laid on something scalding hot a long time ago.

  Only, they seem too deliberate, too orderly to be from an accident.

  God. Did...did someone do this to him?

  He sets Savanny on the front of Bryce’s board. The cat sprawls out and holds his head up like he’s turned into the figurehead on the bow of a boat.

  It’s so silly it makes me smile.

  Just for a second, I’m able to forget what I saw.

  Then my stomach churns again. King Heron Fishing.

  That’s why those men are after me. Something to do with my family’s company.

  Whatever it is, it’s bad. I place both palms on my temples and press down. Something has to help me remember.

  “Need another pain pill, Val?” Flint’s voice. He’s back.

  I blink, opening my eyes.

  I shake my head. “No, just trying to remember.”

  “Don’t.” He sits down beside me. “Cash warned you not to stress, and you’ve been through the wringer today no thanks to my lying ass.”

  I drop my hands.

  “Yeah, about that...can we stop being vague?” I instantly feel guilty about snapping at him. It’s not his fault. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just so maddening. Almost like I can sense how a memory made me feel, but I can’t hold on to the finer parts. I can’t remember it, not entirely. Does that make sense?”

  “Sure. Like when you get a whiff of something, cologne or bacon, say. You just know it reminds you of somebody or something, but you can’t always pin it down.”

  “Exactly.” I sigh. “That’s my brain on amnesia.”

  “Sounds fucking rough,” he growls, a sincerity in his tone that makes me feel weirdly appreciated.

  Sighing again, I prop my hands on the towel and lean back. “It’s my family, isn’t it? They have something these people want. It has to do with King Heron.”

  “That’s what I’ve gathered, yeah. You remember anything else?”

  “No. It’s just a hunch at this point.”

  “I’ve been looking into it. Trying to follow up on leads with Cash, but I haven’t uncovered much.” He puts his arms behind him and stretches, looking way too much like a regal lion in the sun.

  “Will you tell me when you do?”

  He hesitates. “You sure you want me to, or would you rather wait until you remember more?”

  “I’m not sure. I know it sounds crazy, but…I really don’t know. It’s like the answer scares me, and I don’t know why. Who wouldn’t want to know why their life is such a flaming mess?”

  He nods, brushing his hands together, wiping off sand. “Give it some time. I keep saying it, but knowing or not knowing won’t change shit right now. It might make you try to remember harder, something you shouldn’t be doing today.”

  Tired of talking about me, and somewhat afraid he’s going to stand up, I ask, “So where’s Bryce’s mother?”

  “She died.” It comes out of his mouth easy and point-blank.

  “Oh.” Empathy rises inside me and I try to hide my surprise. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He’s better off without her.”

  Wow, what? It’s so...cold. I’m frozen.

  Flint must see it on my face now since he grimaces slightly.

  “Yeah, I know. Makes me sound like a real asshole, but the woman cared more about her next high than she ever cared for him. He was nothing but a pawn. A bargaining chip to get what she wanted out of me. I got full custody of him before he was three, and thankfully, he doesn’t remember much about her.”

  My lip tucks into my teeth. My heart splinters, caving in a few more pieces.

  “I can’t imagine. This world is full of all kinds,” I say, fighting the urge to ask him if he’d loved her.

  None of my business, clearly, but I’m curious.

  “It’s hell sometimes,” he says. “But there are plenty of good people around too. I’ve always done my damnedest to make sure my boy turns out to be one more of them.”

  That warms my heart.

  Especially when I turn and see Bryce back on shore, running toward us, with Savanny close behind on his heels. “Hey, Dad, I’m getting hungry. Is there anything for a snack?”

  “Sure.” Flint stands up and then turns to me. “Sandwiches okay with you?”

  I shrug, and then grin. “I’m hardly in a position to have much input on anything. Wow me, chef.”

  “If you don’t like sandwiches, I’ll make you something else.” He holds out his hand to me.

  I grasp it and use his grip to help me get on my feet. “I like sandwiches just fine.”

  He releases my hand and picks up the towel.

  “Good. So does Bryce.” Smiling at his son, he shakes the stray sand out of the towel before rolling it up.

  “She’ll like ’em. Your sandwiches are the best, Dad.” Wrinkling his nose, Bryce adds, “Grandma’s, not so much. Her bread has those weird seeds in it.”

  Both Flint and I laugh.

  “Seriously,” Bryce says. “Real seeds. Big ones. Not the l
ittle kind on hamburger buns. It’s hard to even eat without a bird trying to steal it right out of my hand.”

  “We believe you,” Flint says as we walk to the house.

  Carrying his board, Bryce runs past. “Don’t ever buy that bread!”

  “Already in the cupboard with your name on it, little man!” Flint shouts in his wake. “Those seeds are good fiber.”

  He winks at me. I laugh at both of them, and giggle again when I see Savanny running after Bryce, kicking up the sand with his hind legs. At least one of us is happy today.

  The cat stays with Bryce while I help Flint chop up meat and veggies. He makes these big classic club-type sandwiches on steroids with sides of fresh fruit.

  We’re just sitting down to eat when Cash arrives out of the blue.

  He walks in and hands Flint a package, asking Bryce about his stay at the resort before he turns to me.

  “How are things today?” he asks, his green eyes serious.

  “Just fine,” I say, glancing at Flint. He’d probably called Cash and told him I found out the marriage was a lie.

  “Any pain or new issues I should know about?”

  I shake my head.

  He looks at Flint, who also shakes his head.

  “All righty, then, I’m heading back to my office.” He grabs one of the sandwiches still on the platter in the center of the table. “Thanks for lunch.”

  “Thanks for the delivery,” Flint says.

  Taking a huge bite off his sandwich, he leaves with a shrug, chewing loudly.

  We eat the rest in peace. Bryce steers most of the conversation, telling us about the scavenger hunt he and his grandmother ‘aced’ at the resort. After we’re done eating and the kitchen gets cleaned up, Bryce asks if he can play a video game.

  Flint gives him permission. As soon as he’s left the room, Flint picks up the package Cash left behind.

  “Special delivery. This is yours, Val.”

  “What is it?”

  “A new phone. A guy that used to work for me set it up for you. He was able to rig up the encryption and some kind of mobile VPN to keep your shit private. He went through and dredged up your usernames and passwords on a couple of your old social media sites. The only numbers on it are mine and Cash’s. We’re the only ones who have your number, too.”

  “Seriously?” I open the envelope and pull out the phone, then look up at him, not sure what to say. I’m not sure how I feel about it, either, knowing someone hacked my entire online footprint so easily.

  He shrugs. “Thought it might help you remember. Just be careful.”

  “Thanks.” A part of me wants to dive right into my accounts, see if anything helps jog my memory, while another part of me isn’t so sure.

  Maybe a little mystery right now is the safest bet.

  “You’re welcome.” He walks around the center island. “I’ll be with Bryce if you need anything.”

  I nod, watching him walk into the living room, and then hear him head upstairs to the second floor. Carrying the phone, I go back outside and sit on one of the lounge chairs.

  My mind goes a million places.

  He’s giving me free rein, trusting me with a key to my past.

  Taking a deep breath, I click on the blue Facebook icon. Scrolling through my newsfeed, it seems to be nothing but copied and pasted videos and memes. Then I click on the profile pics of a few people, but nothing really clicks in my mind.

  If I’d ever swapped chat messages with people, they appear to be wiped. Some faces look vaguely familiar, just not familiar enough to make me dig deeper. More like old friends I’d lost touch with and high school acquaintances.

  I click on my own profile and scroll down through my posts. There aren’t many.

  I wasn’t a heavy user, and honestly? They’re all recopied cooking videos and cat memes. Pretty much what social media was invented for. Lots with Savannah cats, no surprise.

  My photos are just as sparse between the different apps. A younger me, here and there, smiling on a beach with girls I feel like I haven’t seen since college. No family. No big events. No boyfriends.

  There’s a mashup of old, fancy-looking dinners on plates next to wine glasses, too. Some are tagged with famous restaurant names around Honolulu. Apparently, foodieness was my big escape from what looks like hidden misery.

  “This is pointless,” I mutter to myself, realizing how unsocial on social media I’ve been.

  Logging out, I click on the bird icon, which gives me even less than the first one. I never made a single tweet.

  So I go back and trawl my friends list again, hoping something will click, some hint of knowing someone so well I’d feel comfortable messaging them. One picture my finger flicks past makes my heart thud like a gavel. Ray.

  Rayman Gerard.

  My heart crawls up my throat. That’s him, all right. The same boy from the dream.

  The kid who ran around with my conch shell, acting like a little tyrant. But he’s all grown up now, a dusty, dark five o’clock shadow around his jaw.

  My brother.

  I go to his page and scroll through the posts. Not much there either, memes and rude jokes aside. Then I click on his about page.

  President. King Heron Fishing, Incorporated.

  A hard knot forms in my stomach. I press one hand against it and choke back the bile that suddenly scorches the back of my throat.

  Standing up, I walk out of the lanai’s shade and step onto the sand, into the warmth of the sun, hoping it’ll chase back the frozen chill sweeping through me.

  Needing affirmation, I click on the King Heron Fishing link and the phone number that pops up. Guilt hits me, but I can’t help it. I’m not in my right mind. It’s already ringing.

  “King Heron Fishing,” a female voice says.

  My throat locks up.

  “Hello?”

  Forcing the words out, I say, “Ray Gerard, please.”

  “Valerie?” she says my name.

  My heart pounds.

  “Is that you?”

  I take a deep breath, trying not to sputter. “Yeah, it’s...it’s me.”

  “Thank God! Ray told me to keep an ear out, he said he was worried, hadn’t heard from you for a few days. You sound funny. Are you okay?”

  Trying to sound as normal as possible, I say, “I’ve just...I’ve been sick. A cold or something. Nothing too serious.”

  “Oh, my, well, hope you feel better soon. I had a nasty one a couple of weeks ago. Still have a cough I can’t shake. I’m sorry, but Ray’s not in right now. You could try his cell?”

  Ugh. I don’t know his cell.

  I don’t know anyone’s number. I can’t tell her that, though.

  “Orrr, you know what? I could just patch it through for you. I know how it goes. When you’re sick, you don’t have the energy to even push an extra button. I sure didn’t. Missed three whole days of work, and you know how crazy that is for me.”

  I don’t but say I do, and ask her to patch me through.

  God, I’m going to regret this.

  Part of me wants to drop the phone and run, throw it out to sea, before Flint finds out how monumentally dumb I’m being. Playing with fire has nothing on calling my shady brother, who’s apparently been looking for me since...

  I know when. And I won’t let myself finish that thought.

  The line rings three times before it’s answered by a low, gravelly voice.

  “Gerard here.”

  I swallow hard. Images of him flash like lightning. Ray being angry. Demanding. Yelling at me.

  “Hello?”

  Afraid he may hang up, I say, “Ray?”

  The line goes so quiet, I’m sure he hung up, and I’m pulling the phone away when I hear him say my name. “Valerie?”

  Shut up, a voice screams in the back of my head over the dull roar of my own heartbeat. Just stop talking. Let it go before it’s too late.

  But my head and my heart are at total odds. And I know which one keeps
my mouth moving.

  “It’s me,” I say quietly.

  “Holy shit, you’re—you’re alive! Goddamn. I’ve been looking all over for you, scanning every spare inch of sand on Oahu. Hell, that’s what I’m out here doing right now.”

  Part of me wants to believe he’s happy to hear my voice, but a deeper part whispers he’s not. That I shouldn’t believe him. I’ve felt that sinister dishonesty before, like when he said the other boy stole the shell in my dream-memory.

  “Where are you?” he snaps.

  He’s not happy. He’s trying to conceal his anger, and not very well. I never should’ve called.

  But I had to know.

  I couldn’t resist when the answers were right in front of me.

  “What’s going on, Ray?” I ask, ignoring his question. “What’s happening with King Heron?”

  “Very funny.” He’s silent for several deathly seconds. “What, you’re serious? What the hell do you mean what’s going on?”

  “It’s something underhanded, isn’t it? Like an open sore. Just tell me, Ray, I need to know what it is.”

  “What the...” There’s a long pause and an exasperated sigh. “I told you, Val. I told you fucking everything. You really need me to go through this again?”

  A sob lodges in my throat. “Yeah, I...I don’t remember.”

  I pinch my lips together, muffling sheer anguish as it releases.

  “Don’t remember?” he repeats, growling it.

  “No. I have amnesia.”

  “What? You’re shitting me. Amnesia? That’s not even a real thing. Come on, Val, what the hell are you after?” His tone grows more bewildered with every word.

  There’s a long, frozen pause. My fingers dig into my palms so hard it hurts.

  “I’m not kidding. The doctor says—”

  “Doctor? What hospital are you at? I’m coming to get you right now.”

  “I-I’m not at a hospital.” My fingers pinch together, white-knuckling the phone.

  “Where do they have you, then? I told those fuckers...no, back up. I need to know where. Talk to me, Val, where did they take you?”

  They?

  Goosebumps rise on my arms. It’s like he has some very specific they in mind. But he can’t possibly mean Flint and Cash.

  He’s referring to the men I can’t remember. The ones who want me dead.