Windswept

by Julie Carobini

  "I don't understand." Her mind raced with options. "Has Mr. Capra checked out?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I believe he has. Too bad. He was such a nice man. Maybe he'll come back sometime."

  She leaned her hand on the doorframe. Christian had checked out. Just like that. No text or call. Sophia glanced back at Thomas who was wheeling his cart toward her door. Though it took effort, she trailed into her room behind him.

  "Will there be anything else?"

  She shook her head. "No. Nothing. Thank you."

  He shut the door behind him and she surveyed the room. Though she longed for rest, the quiet was ... unnerving.

  Sophia opened her eyes to the telltale sign of a good time. Laughter poured in from somewhere beyond her deck. She ran a hand through her hair and put her feet on the ground, eager to chase away the grogginess of travel. More laughter reached her. She padded over to the slider door and peeked out to see two young girls shrieking and chasing each other around on the deck next to hers.

  Christian's deck.

  She let the curtain drop and curled back up in bed. Her phone rang and Jackson's name popped onto her screen.

  "Hi," she said.

  "Glad I didn't wake you."

  She sat up, punching pillows behind her back. "No, you didn't. A couple of girls next door did that."

  "Hmm."

  "What?"

  "Note to self: My sister is grumpy when she's awakened during a nap."

  She let out a half laugh. "Stop."

  "I really just called to check up on you. Sounds like you and Meg had a grand time without me."

  "Ha ha."

  "Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? I can have a car bring you over."

  "To the condo?"

  "Yes. I'm barbecuing ribs tonight and making my famous pasta salad. Convinced yet?"

  She smiled at this. In the few months that she'd known her brother, she had not often seen him away from the frenzy of work. "You had me at barbecue."

  A knock on the door pulled at her attention. Christian? She glanced at the door. "Somebody's here," she said. "I can be ready at five. Will that work?"

  "Perfect. Your driver will be waiting."

  Another knock on the door.

  "Just a minute." She ran her fingers through her hair and quickly walked to the door.

  Wade stood on the other side wearing a sharp gray overcoat and a black shirt, opened at the collar. He smelled amazing.

  "C'mere, gorgeous." He stepped into the room and pulled her into his arms.

  She laughed but turned her head. "I just woke up from a nap!"

  He nuzzled her ear. "You look like you just stepped out of a magazine."

  She pulled back. "You are ridiculous."

  "Here." He handed her a bouquet of white roses. "For you."

  She peered at him over the bouquet. "More flowers? These are beautiful. Thank you."

  "So proud of you, Sophia. You did it!"

  He was right. A few months ago she had found herself in that place where all creatives go at one time or another: despair. She lacked creativity and focus and wasn't sure if she still had a future in design. Until she'd come here. She didn't know exactly what had happened to change her course. Other than that photo that Liddy happened to snap ...

  "Listen, I have a meeting to get to, but I was hoping I could take you to dinner later. To celebrate."

  "Oh."

  "What's wrong?"

  "Well, I've promised Jackson I would have barbecue with him and Meg."

  "Tonight?"

  "Yes, sorry. Sometimes I don't use my head—I should've known you would want to get together to discuss everything."

  A smile broke out on his face.

  "What?"

  He pulled her into an embrace then held her at arm's length, his gaze brushing over her. "First, I hate that you make our time together sound like a business meeting."

  "That's not what I meant!"

  He laughed heartily now. "And second, I know about the barbecue. Actually, I'm the driver Jackson enlisted."

  "You are not." She leaned in closer. "Wait. Are you really?"

  "I'd rather have you all to myself, but if that's not possible, I can share. For at least one more day."

  "Well, then," she said, "I will take you up on your offer of a ride."

  He kissed her hand. "Tonight, then."

  Sophia clicked the door closed behind Wade and began to search the small suite for something she could use for a vase. She had to settle on one of the large mugs she used to hold her paint brushes, then opened the curtains to let light in and put the flowers on an end table.

  She looked away from the window and glanced around the room. For the first time since she had moved into the inn, she longed for home. Not the home she had come from, but one she could settle into for the rest of her life. Though her father had owned this place and gifted it to Jackson—and to her—she still looked around and saw ... a hotel room.

  The simplicity of the roses on her table caught her eye. Fresh. Delicate. Alive. In her mind she could picture a home with a garden full of flowers close to the sea. Maybe hardwood floors and children's toys strewn about.

  She passed by the sliding door that led to her deck and stopped. Whitecaps floated on the surface of the water out there, a sure sign of tumult on the sea. Would have inspired Christian, if he had chosen to stay at least a short while longer.

  She still could not believe that he had checked out without saying goodbye. Maybe Christian never had the wild idea of settling down, as she did. Maybe he truly was a restless wanderer who was destined to find home wherever he laid his head.

  Sophia slipped out onto the deck where Jackson held court over the barbecue. He wore an apron proclaiming him The Grillfather. "Smells delicious. Oh, and nice outfit, by the way."

  He kissed her on the cheek. "What can I say? Meg dresses me."

  "I'm so happy to see you in something other than a suit."

  "You don't like my work clothes?"

  "That is the problem. You work all the time."

  One of his eyebrows darted up. He turned over several links of kielbasa. "Not you too. Meg's on my case all the time about the workload. She actually threatened to hide my car keys."

  "I applaud her, but surely you could call one of your valets to pick you up. Right?"

  "Exactly what I told her. And then I pointed out that we would have to pay that person and give them mileage. So she gave me back my keys."

  "Smart girl."

  He gestured toward a bottle of champagne and a pitcher of orange juice. "Mimosa?"

  "That sounds perfect. Thank you."

  Meg and Jackson lived in his condo near the beach, a gated community with manicured lawns and shrubs and walkways that wove in and between hundreds of perfectly placed residences. All had decks or porches, but only a quarter of them had partial views of the ocean.

  Sophia gazed toward the horizon, the sun looming far to the west. "Is this why you live here? Because of that view?"

  Jackson glanced up from his basting. "Can't beat it." He pointed to a massive grassy area with a pair of tongs. "Park on one side, dunes on the other, and that ocean right in front."

  "Where did Meg live when you met?"

  "Meg? She leased a house. Bigger than this place, but since I own this one—"

  "And you are near the beach ..."

  He smiled and nodded. "Yes, because of all that, I convinced her to give up her lease and move here. So she moved in—with two closets-full of clothing."

  "So it's a cozy existence." Sophia tried not to laugh too hard.

  He pointed the tongs at her. "Because of people like you!"

  "Guilty." She laughed.

  "So, is Wade helping Meg in the kitchen?"

  She sipped her drink. "How did you know?"

  "I figured, since he likes to cook. How about you? Do you like to cook anything special?" He laughed nervously. "I feel like I'm on a date."

  "Yes, I know what you mean. We
went from being strangers to family without learning all those funny little nuances along the way."

  Wade appeared just then wearing an apron and carrying a platter of marinated steak. "What did I miss?"

  "Sophia and I were just getting caught up on, well, life."

  "And Meg was just filling me in as well." He grinned at Sophia. "You were more amazing at Fashion Week than you let on."

  "I do not recall saying that I was amazing at all."

  He moved behind her and rubbed her shoulders. "That's what I mean. Jackson, your wife told me that Sophia made several wardrobe changes per day and still managed to keep smiling."

  "I have no doubt."

  "Truly, I could not have done any of this week without Meg," Sophia said. "She showed tremendous spirit when I was feeling so very overwhelmed."

  Jackson was smiling and laughing and checking to see if the kielbasa was done when Meg joined them on the deck with a plate of raw, sliced vegetables: onions, zucchini, and mushrooms. "Lots of laughter out here." She set the plate down and poured herself a glass of juice. "Cheers."

  Sophia touched her on the arm. "Jackson told me all about your extensive wardrobe."

  "You mean he was complaining about it, right?"

  Sophia smiled. "I wouldn't call it complaining. I believe he was being quite complimentary."

  "Oh, right!" Meg laughed.

  "Speaking of complimentary," Wade said, "Sophia's been singing your praises out here as well."

  "It's true," Sophia said.

  Meg wrapped her arms about Jackson's waist and rested her chin on his shoulder blade. "Oh really?"

  "Hey, hey," he said, arms and grilling tool up in the air. "Don't mess with the cook."

  "Sheesh! Still pushing me away, even after all this time." Meg shook her head, but a knowing smile graced her mouth.

  Wade wrinkled his brow. "Should we even ask?"

  Meg rested a hand on her side. "Do you know that this man actually threatened to fire me?"

  Jackson lifted his chin and looked into the sky as if searching for answers. "Why me, Lord?"

  "Jackson," Sophia asked, "why did you want to fire Meg?"

  "That's where the error lies! I didn't want to fire Meg—I had to threaten to fire her." He swung around, those tongs stuck out like an officer's flashlight. "For her own good."

  Meg rolled her eyes and took another sip of juice.

  Sophia looked from Jackson to Wade and back again. "I don't understand."

  Meg patted her husband's back. "We joke about it now, but on second thought, this might not be a good thing to bring up so soon after ... well, you know ... all that stuff with Gia." She paused. "I'm on my way back to the kitchen. Need anything else?"

  With Meg out of earshot, Jackson took in both Wade and Sophia. "I threatened to fire her to keep her away from danger. But you know Meg—never afraid of a little adventure." He tilted his head when he smiled. "My delivery could have been better, I'll give you that. But at the time, I did the best I could."

  Wade nodded. "Yes, I remember hearing this story. You were trying to protect her, but she fought you every step."

  "Bingo."

  A million thoughts jostled like bumper cars in Sophia's mind. Why would Jackson think that hurting her heart would protect her? Why not just be straight with her? She shook off her questions as best she could as Wade poured her another smidge of champagne.

  "I told Meg I'd make the garlic bread," Wade said as he retreated to the kitchen. "Be back soon."

  Jackson tossed the veggies with oil in a grill pan as Sophia sipped her wine. "Can I ask you something? "Did ... did Christian tell you where he was going?"

  "Uh, no, not yet." He paused. "I'm sure he'll touch base at some point, though."

  She chewed her thumbnail. "I was just wondering."

  "I hope he wasn't too much of a distraction for you these past few months. My friend Christian is somewhat of a free spirit."

  "No, not at all. I consider him a ... friend. Well, I thought we were friends."

  Jackson frowned and shook his head. "I wish I would have thought more clearly about what room to book him into." He paused and pivoted to face her. "Christian and I have been friends for a long time. Did he do something to you that I should know about?"

  Sophia gaped at Jackson. "No. Nothing bad. I ... I just thought he'd say goodbye before checking out. That's all."

  Jackson looked over his shoulder toward the house. "Might not want to have Wade hear you say that."

  "Why? Wade and I aren't, you know, we're not ... dating."

  Jackson raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  "Not officially."

  "But you spend time together."

  She cracked a smile.

  "I'm not trying to pry ..."

  "But you are prying."

  "Look. All I am saying is that Wade is a great guy. He'd be good for you. Our father trusted him implicitly—and if only I would have consulted him before things had spiraled so."

  "We have talked about this before. You must stop blaming yourself."

  "Well, all I meant was ... maybe we would have found you sooner. And that would have been spectacular."

  A lump formed in her throat that she could not deny. She threw herself into her brother's arms and hugged him tight. "I love you, little brother."

  "Love you too, sis."

  Lovingly, he put her at arm's distance so he could speak directly to her. "I want to see you happy."

  She was wiping her tears away with the back of her hand when Wade and Meg marched back out bringing with them bread and eating utensils.

  Meg stopped. She began to blink rapidly. "What's happening?" She looked back and forth. "Are you both ... crying?"

  Wade began rubbing Sophia's shoulders again.

  Jackson put down the tongs and slid both arms around Meg. He pulled her close and smiled widely. "Maybe it's time we spill the beans, honey."

  Meg shot both arms up in the air. "I'm pregnant!"

  "What? Are you serious?" Sophia flew into Meg's arms. "I can't believe you kept this a secret during the entire trip!"

  Wade gave Jackson a man hug. "Congratulations! Beautiful news, you two."

  "Wait!" Sophia looked incredulous. "Was it even safe for you to be working so many hours in New York? Oh, Meg! You should've told me."

  "I made her check with her doctor first," Jackson said.

  "And don't you remember how I begged off going out every night?" Meg said. "That's because I went back to the room and slept!"

  Sophia hugged Meg again. "Is this why you cry so much all the time?"

  Jackson whooped a laugh. "I'm glad you're the one who said it." He laughed again. "Better you than me!"

  As the four of them sat around the dining table, passing plates of food, Sophia reveled in her brother and sister-in-law's good news. In this moment, the trials of the past few months culminating in a successful Fashion Week slipped farther into the past. She looked at Jackson and Meg and Wade. It was as if everyone had moved on.

  Move on. After this show, people will have moved on anyway ...

  Wade's words to her when she had called him from the stairwell struck her now in a way that caused the air to squeeze right out of her lungs.

  Is that what Christian would do once he finished his book? Move on? Where would he go? Was it even her question to ask?

  And would she ever see him again?

  Chapter 15

  She yawned three times in a row as Wade walked her from the parking lot to the door of her suite.

  "I bore you that much, huh?"

  "You could never bore me." Another yawn overtook her, and when it ended, she laughed. "I guess I'm still recovering from the week. From the past month, really."

  He left with a promise to call her the next day. After she'd taken a warm shower and slipped into her nightgown, Sophia pulled on a robe and stepped outside onto the deck. The neighboring room was dark; perhaps the family had gone to sleep.

  The waves, however,
had not. She recalled how surprised Christian had been her first morning here when she was trying to decide whether or not she could get used to the ferocious sound of cresting waves that crash landed on packed sand with regular precision. She allowed herself one rueful smile. He had suggested she might need medication for her reticence of the sea's roar.

  Out of habit, she glanced at the neighboring deck. She knew he had left, that others had taken his place, and yet she still half expected to find him threatening to hop over the railings. And then actually do it.

  Sophia chewed her lip. Christian was a restless guy, a wandering spirit. Jackson had told her so in a way that seemed designed to let her down easy. Maybe that's why Christian left as quickly as he did—so she wouldn't grow too attached.

  Only she feared she already had.

  She blinked away the onset of tears, sniffling. He could have called. Or texted. Or left her a note. Instead, he had disappeared with no word of where he had gone. Had he thought about her at all? Or did he think his brief mention in New York that he'd be leaving soon would be sufficient?

  She hung her head, the crush of waves filling her ears, the collision of myriad thoughts jostling tender emotions.

  A thought from earlier in the evening lingered. Had her brother truly threatened to fire Meg—and had she believed he would follow through? By the sound of things, both assertions were true. He was trying to keep her away from danger, he said. But what struck Sophia was that, as he put it, his "delivery could have been better" and that he "was doing the best" he could.

  Maybe she reminded him of what he had lost.

  Christian's theory about her stepfather reverberated in her head. But it did not answer why he would write her a hurtful letter, one that criticized her work and cast doubt upon her future as a designer. Unless ...

  She gripped the hand railing as if doing so would help her remember. Her stepfather was a kind man. Even when he drank too much, something that happened with regularity after her mother's death, he still cared for her. And for Gia. Filled their home with food. Attended their school functions. Took photos before dances, though she hardly participated in any.

  Maybe he wrote that letter to her out of fear. She had decided to move to New York with a couple of friends, and though she should have known he wouldn't want her to go, she never considered letting that slow her.