Meet Me in Barefoot Bay

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Dad?”

  Nothing. Okay. A mistake. “Anyway, I designed a resort for her and it’s going to be—”

  This time the squeeze was real and one of the monitors kicked up in speed. Clay looked at the screens, pinpointing the one that had just changed its tune. The heart. His heart rate was up.

  “Dad, can you hear me?”

  Should he call someone? He inched closer, holding tight to his father’s hand.

  “So, this project,” he said, sticking with the subject because that was what got the reaction. “We’re calling it Casa Blanca, and I gave it a really strong Henri Post influence. You’d like it.”

  Another firm squeeze and the slightest flutter behind his lids. Dad was definitely awake, and reacting to the name of his favorite French architect.

  “Do you want me to get the doc?” he asked.

  Nothing.

  “Do you want me to keep talking?”

  Nothing.

  “Should I get Jayna? Are you waking up?” Frustration mounted when there was no reaction. “Is there something you want to say, Dad?”

  The beep jumped another notch and his hand constricted. Hard.

  Clay waited, his breathing as measured and slow as his father’s. “Dad?”

  Nothing.

  “Is it about the building?”

  A squeeze. Seriously? At a time like this he wanted to dole out architectural advice? He didn’t want to clear the air and put their messy past behind them?

  Clay leaned on the bed rail and threaded his fingers through his father’s hand.

  “The project,” he said, getting a squeeze in return. “Is a resort on the beach.” Another squeeze. “I’ll be perfectly honest: She was looking for you when she accidentally contacted me.”

  Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. Beeeeep.

  “Dad, are you familiar with this property?”

  Under closed lids, his father’s eyes flickered back and forth and Clay took it as a yes.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  More flickering, squeezing, and beeping.

  “Did you—”

  The door flew open. “Clay, what’s going on?” Behind Jayna a nurse ran in, pushing her aside, flying to the bed.

  “Out! Everyone out!”

  Clay dropped his father’s hand and stepped away from the bed. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s having another stroke. We need a doctor. Everyone out of here!”

  Jayna grabbed his arm and yanked him to the door, everything moving in slow motion. Clay’s head felt thick with grief and guilt. Had he brought the stroke on? By talking about architecture and resorts and—

  Then he knew. He knew exactly what had brought that on. Goddamn it, C-dub, why?

  From the other side of the glass he stared at the old man and hoped to God he’d get a chance to ask him that question.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lacey finished the last section of the presentation with her voice loud and clear so Zoe could hear it from the kitchen, where she was already opening a celebratory bottle of wine.

  “And that’s why the Mimosa Key Town Council should vote to amend the zoning restrictions in Barefoot Bay and welcome the potential of Casa Blanca.”

  Tessa clapped, Zoe hooted, but Lacey just shook her head.

  “What?” Tessa said. “You were awesome, confident, unstoppable.”

  “Thanks, but—”

  “It’s wine o’clock!” Zoe came in with a bottle and three glasses on a tray. “Well, four. But we can officially drink now.”

  “In a second,” Lacey said. “I need a new name for this place.”

  “For the resort?” The question was asked in unison, and with matching disbelief.

  “It’s bothering me here,” Lacey said, tapping her chest. “It’s our name, mine and Clay’s. And if…” It hurt to say it, but she had to be true to herself. “If he’s not there, then I don’t want to call it Casa Blanca. It’s too personal.”

  “But it’s perfect for the design.”

  “I know, Tessa, but…” She already had the eraser out and walked to the first easel to eliminate the words that were bothering her so much. “I’m just not going to call it anything. The right name will come to me.”

  Her cell phone jangled and she cursed the way her heart kicked up, forcing herself to act as if she wasn’t even thinking it could be Clay.

  Zoe snagged the phone from the end table and checked out the screen. “Sorry, it’s just Ashley.”

  Lacey rolled her eyes. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Brutally so,” Zoe said. “Here. Find out how the cave adventure is going. Maybe David drowned.”

  “Zoe.” Lacey laughed softly and took the phone. “Hey, honey. How’s it going?”

  “It’s David.”

  Something in his voice. Something bad. “What’s the matter?”

  “There’s been an accident, Lacey.” His voice cracked, and so did Lacey’s entire being.

  “What kind of accident?” She could barely hear him; her pulse beat a deafening thump in her head. “David, what happened?”

  Both of the girls were at her side instantly, squeezing her, trying to listen.

  “She hit her head.”

  “What? Is she okay?”

  “She’s in the hospital, Lacey.”

  Blood rushed, limbs weakened, and her chest exploded in an agonizing burst of disbelief. Not Ashley. Please, God, not Ashley. Anyone but Ashley. Please. “Please tell me she’s okay.” Please.

  “She’s unconscious, but alive.”

  Alive? There was a chance she wouldn’t be? “Oh my God, David.”

  Tessa grabbed the phone. “Where are you, David? Tell me exactly how to get there.”

  Words wouldn’t form. Nothing could come out of Lacey’s mouth except shuddering breaths while Zoe calmed her and Tessa got them all into the Jeep to drive wherever David had told Tessa to go.

  Zoe swore softly, putting Lacey’s seat belt on. “Wait. Your insurance forms. ID. You’re going to need that stuff at the hospital.”

  “My handbag’s on the kitchen table and the insurance card is in my wallet.”

  “Got it. Be right back.”

  She had started climbing out when Lacey grabbed her arm. “Wait, Zoe. In Ashley’s room. Get her unicorn.”

  “Good thinking, Mom.”

  “What else did he say?” she asked Tessa when Zoe jogged away.

  “Just that she’s unconscious. She hit her head on a low ceiling in the cave, and she’s breathing on her own, but unconscious.”

  Everything shook uncontrollably. Her body, her guts, her knees literally knocking as Zoe climbed back in and wrapped her arms around Lacey, cooing soft words to calm her.

  “I’ve got the hospital programmed into the GPS,” Tessa said. “Hang on, girls. We’ll be there in a couple hours.”

  “A couple of hours!” Lacey wailed. “What if she—”

  “Shhh.” Zoe squeezed her. “Just hold on and let’s get there.”

  She couldn’t do anything but pray and cry and curse herself for backing down on the cave diving issue. They drove in silence up the interstate.

  Tessa had barely reached the ER entrance when Lacey threw herself out of the Jeep and started running toward the doors. Zoe was next to her in a second, taking control, asking the questions Lacey couldn’t, calmly following the orders to get them to Ashley.

  She saw David first. He sat in a waiting room with his head in his hands, still wearing a bathing suit and a T-shirt and a look of red-eyed anguish, so miserable looking that the worst imaginable thought slammed into her head and she gave voice to it.

  “Ashley’s dead.”

  Before he answered a nurse whisked into the room. “Are you Ashley’s mother?”

  Blood thrummed and a low, guttural grunt of acknowledgment came from her chest.

  “Come with me,” the nurse said. “Are you related?” she asked Zoe, who shook her head. “Stay here with him, then.”

 
“I’m her father,” David said, coming with them.

  “Actually”—Lacey held up a hand to stop him—“I want to see her alone.”

  The nurse pushed her through double doors.

  “Please, tell me, is she—”

  “Oh, yes, she’s awake. Has been for a while. She hasn’t sustained brain damage, and that’s what we’ve been watching for. Definitely a concussion, though. She’s woozy and on some pain meds. It was quite a serious blow, but we think a monstrous headache will be the worst of it. Here she is.”

  Lacey took a deep breath as she entered the room, letting it out as a soft cry at the sight of Ashley, pale and thin and tiny in a hospital bed with tubes in her arms, a bandage on her head, her eyes closed.

  “Go easy, Mom,” the nurse warned.

  Lacey nodded, forcing herself to slow her steps as she approached the bed. She touched Ashley’s shoulder and her eyes opened.

  Thank you, God. Thank you.

  “Hey, Princess Pot-Pie.” Lacey managed not to sob, but the words were barely a whisper.

  “Mommy.”

  Lacy sucked back tears, willing herself to be strong.

  “Please don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad, honey. I’m just so grateful you’re alive. I won’t even say I told you so. How do you feel?” she asked as she tucked the uni into bed beside her beautiful daughter. Ashley smiled and pulled the uni closer.

  “I’m okay. My head hurts, but they told me I knew my name and my birthday and my favorite color.”

  “What is it?”

  “Lime green. Mommy, I’m sorry.” She started to cry.

  “Shhh.” Lacey stroked her cheek, her chin, her quivering lips. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

  “I shouldn’t have done it.”

  “I gave you permission to go, angel. It’s not like you sneaked away.”

  “But it’s my fault. God’s punishing me.”

  Lacey put her hand on Ashley’s head. She wasn’t making sense. Could there be damage they hadn’t diagnosed? “No, not now, baby. Save your strength. We have to get you home and get you all better.”

  Ashley closed her eyes. “I made Clay leave you.”

  Lacey leaned in, not at all sure she understood. “What are you talking about?”

  “I told Clay. That night he got me at the football field I didn’t tell you everything.” Tears streamed down her face.

  “You told him what, baby?”

  “That we’d be a family if he’d just leave.”

  Lacey stared at her, processing the words, trying to understand. “That’s not why he left, Ashley.”

  Jayna had texted him at two in the morning. He said he wanted to go back to North Carolina. Ashley couldn’t take the blame for that, no matter what she’d told him.

  “I basically told him to leave, and he was being so nice.” She squeezed her eyes. “He’s really nice, Mom.”

  “Whatever you did or said couldn’t make him leave or stay,” Lacey assured her. “All you need to worry about is getting better. That’s all.”

  “But I think he really loves you.”

  Lacey stroked her head, determined not to let Ashley’s innocent—and mistaken—ideas make her sicker. “Just close your eyes, Ash. We’ll talk later.”

  “I told Dad and he said…”

  Lacey waited, curious whether David was behind this confession. Maybe he was all too happy to get rid of the competition.

  “Dad said he should leave now and let you have your life.” Ashley’s voice cracked. “I don’t want him to leave, Mom, but I want you to be happy.”

  “I will be happy when the doctors say you are one hundred percent healed. Sleep.” Lacey kissed Ashley’s forehead, keeping her lips on her daughter’s silky hair. “This is no time to deal with the heavy stuff. Rest.” She curled her hands around Ashley’s much narrower fingers. “I love you so much, Ashley.”

  “I love you, too, Mom. I’m so sorry I screwed up.”

  “Honey, you didn’t screw up. Please, rest now.”

  Ashley closed her eyes and breathed the sigh of a child with a clear conscience. In a few minutes she slept, and Lacey returned to the waiting room to update Tessa and Zoe, then headed outside, where David was getting air.

  He stood braced against a waist-high brick wall, his face to the sun, his eyes closed.

  “Whatever you have to say, you’re right,” he said without looking at her. “I screwed up royally.”

  “This is not about you,” she said. “She’s going to be fine, and that’s all that matters. I let her go and you had an accident. I can’t hate you for that.”

  “But you hate me for other things.”

  She sighed. “David, I don’t hate you at all.”

  “I got in the way of you and Clay.”

  “No, and neither did Ashley. I appreciate how you and Ashley want to take the blame, but there’s none to go around.” At least not with these two.

  “What did the doctor tell you?” he asked.

  “I haven’t seen the doctor yet, but the nurse seems to think she’ll be fine. We’ll monitor her. And she’ll have an excuse for every C in math for the whole first semester of high school.”

  He smiled, hope in his eyes. “Listen, Lacey, I have to tell you something.”

  “Ashley said you’re leaving.”

  He angled his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll be on a flight to Papua, New Guinea, in four hours.”

  “Really? That’s so…” Far. Soon. “Not a surprise,” she said flatly.

  “A few weeks ago I would have taken that response as hope that we could have a future.”

  “We don’t. At least not like you first painted it when you got here.”

  “I’m trying to tell you I owe you an apology,” David said.

  She acknowledged his words with a nod. “Accepted, but I’m not going to hold this or the last fourteen years against you. Honestly.”

  “What I’m sorry for is not just the last fourteen years, because I’ve told you I regret them every minute I get to know Ashley more. And the way she’s accepted me, when any other kid would resent me…” He sighed heavily. “She’s amazing.”

  Lacey smiled, pride welling up in her chest. “Yes, she is, David, and I’m glad you finally know that.”

  He took a step closer, his eyes moist, struggling to swallow. “What I’m sorry for is how I reacted when you told me you were pregnant.”

  She didn’t respond, leaning against the sun-warmed bricks, the adrenaline and fear dumping out of her, leaving her muscles weak. Including her heart. That might be the weakest muscle of all.

  Because she’d never planned to forgive David for that. For not marrying her, for disappearing, even for showing up now and upsetting an already shaky apple cart, yes. Forgiven. But for pressing to terminate the pregnancy? That seemed unforgivable.

  He searched her face as if he could read her thoughts.

  “I have no excuse,” he finally said. “I mean, I was pretty young, but you were younger. I was restless and unsettled, but you hadn’t even graduated. I was scared to be a parent, and you were the one who had to carry and raise her.” His voice cracked. “Please, Lace. Forgive me.”

  She managed to blink without shedding the tears that welled. “It’s history.”

  His expression softened with relief. “Thank you.” He reached out for her hand, squeezing it. “Thank you.”

  All she could do was nod, and wait for the pressure on her chest to ease. Surprisingly, the weight lifted quickly. Forgiveness weighed less than blame.

  “You are always welcome in Ashley’s life, David,” she said.

  “Good,” he replied. “Because I have an idea how I can help you.”

  She frowned. “Help how?”

  “I’d like to invest in your resort. No ownership, no ties. Just an investment that you can pay back when the resort starts making money.”

  “I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you.”

  “And, Lacey, I don�
�t know who has this kind of pull, but I can’t find out who bought those properties, and God knows I’ve tried to grease some palms. But eventually the identity of the buyer will be revealed and you need to buy it back. That’ll be my investment; I’ll pay for those lots no matter what they ask.”

  “Oh, David, really. Thank you.” She accepted the embrace he offered, leaning on his shoulder for a moment. “Thank you.”

  “And one more thing.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve been a lousy father, but you are a remarkable mother.”

  “Thanks.” She leaned back to look at him. “Did Ashley tell you she said something to Clay? Something she thinks made him leave?”

  “She did, but—”

  “But what?”

  He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I think he’ll be back.”

  She cursed the hope that coiled through her. “I don’t.”

  “Well, I saw the way he looked at you, Lace. And that man might not know it, but he’s in love.”

  Maybe he was, but not with her. Still, when David left to say good-bye to Ashley, Lacey checked her phone messages, just in case David was right.

  Nothing.

  So the right guy didn’t get the girl, and neither did the wrong guy.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Mrs. Walker?”

  Clay looked up when the neurologist pushed open the waiting-room doors and scanned the small group on the other side, no doubt looking for an older woman. Sorry, doc. Meet the Dysfunctionals.

  Jayna stood. “I’m his wife.”

  To his credit, the doctor didn’t show any reaction. “And which one of you is Clay?”

  Clay lifted a hand but didn’t jump out of his seat. The doctor turned to him and gestured. “Your father would like to speak with you.”

  “He can talk?” Jayna exclaimed.

  “A bit. The second stroke, which wasn’t nearly as severe as the first, actually stimulated some activity and brought him out of the coma. I’m going to explain all that to you in a moment, ma’am, but your husband is quite forceful, even after two strokes. He was adamant about talking to Clay, and I see no reason to deny him that.”

  Clay finally stood. “I’ll talk to him.” Because the son of a bitch had a lot of explaining to do.