For Better, for Worse, Forever (2 page)

“Yes. It’s a nice morning.”

Her father lowered the fax he’d been reading from his office in Manhattan. April couldn’t get used to him in Bermuda shorts and flowered shirts; she’d rarely seen him in anything but a suit, back home. “Hi, princess.” A smile split his face. “Hungry? Mango and papaya?” He gestured toward a platter of cut-up tropical fruit.

“Maybe later. I’ll be in my room.”

As her parents exchanged glances, her mother said, “You should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She wasn’t in her room for five minutes before her mother knocked, came in, and eased onto the bed, where April sat staring out the window at the sea. “Honey, we should talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“We’re concerned about you. It’s been months since Mark—”

“I know how long it’s been. I don’t need you to remind me.”

Her mother sighed. “We thought that coming to St. Croix would help.”

April bit back her irritation. It wasn’t her parents’ fault. In fact, they’d tried everything to help her feel better. “Coming here has helped,” she said earnestly. “If I’d had to stay in New York, I’d have gone crazy.”

“But to us it doesn’t seem to have helped. You barely eat. You keep to yourself day in and day out. You never want to go anywhere with us. It’s a wonderful island, April. We thought we’d go into town tonight and eat at
a Danish restaurant in Christiansted. Fine food.”

“You and Daddy go. I really don’t want to.” Why couldn’t her mother leave her alone?

“April, it’s not only your depression that worries us. We’re fearful about your health too. You are feeling all right physically, aren’t you? I mean, you aren’t experiencing headaches and not telling us, are you?”

April hardly ever thought about her health these days. It seemed as if the headaches, dizzy spells, blackouts, and six weeks of radiation treatments that she’d had to endure because of the brain tumor had never happened. Or at least, hadn’t happened to her. She’d been so focused on Mark, so consumed with his hospitalization and, in spite of his imminent death, her commitment to having a wedding that she’d shoved her own problems aside. “Dr. Sorenson told us the tumor was dormant, and I’ve no reason to think it isn’t,” April answered truthfully.

“I know what he
said
, but what matters is how you
feel.”

“I feel fine,” April insisted through gritted
teeth. “I mean as fine as a person can feel who watched her fiancé die.”

“Oh, honey …” Her mother reached for her.

April turned away. “Don’t. Please. I don’t think I can stand one more tear.”

That evening her parents went into town for dinner and April moped around the sprawling house. Far out to sea, she saw a storm brewing, the clouds on the horizon gray and angry looking. She fell asleep on the sofa and in her dreams relived the terrible night at the racetrack. In slow motion, she saw Mark’s car strike the bumper of the car in front of him. She saw his car spin out of control, hit the retaining wall, and catch fire. She tried to run onto the track, but in her dream, her feet had taken root in the grandstand and all she could do was watch helplessly.

A roar like flames split the night and she screamed Mark’s name. Then she bolted upright, and rain was pelting her face. Wind had toppled a lamp and it had broken on the tile floor. Gasping, sobbing, she stumbled off the sofa and struggled against the wind to shut the French doors. By the time she’d closed them, she was soaked, and rainwater had
puddled on the floor and stained nearby furniture.

The tropical squall had moved like quicksilver, sending shards of lightning from the sky to the ground, furious in its intensity. She leaned against the door, watching trees and bushes whip in the dark, watching delicate flowers rip from branches and smear on the glass. And she felt a kinship with the flowers. She knew what it was like to be torn apart and sacrificed to the winds of cruel fate.

B
randon paced about his room like a caged animal. His father was out of town on business. Not that Brandon cared. They didn’t have much to say to each other these days. Brandon flopped on his bed, his hands clasped behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. It had been a lousy week at school. He’d all but slept through his classes, he’d been so bored. And even though he’d taken on extra hours at his job, he wasn’t tired enough to fall into bed so totally exhausted that he could check out. And forget.

He thought about calling his best friend, Kenny, but remembered that Kenny was out with Pam, his red-hot romance of the past few months. Mentally Brandon skimmed his
list of other friends and rejected the idea of calling any of them. Truth was, he’d been in such a dark mood for the past five months that nobody wanted to be with him. Even Flo, the girl he’d dated since the previous summer, had dumped him.

“You’ve got to get over it,” she’d said with a toss of her blond head. “Life goes on, Brandon. You can’t crawl in the grave with your mother, you know.” She’d told him she was sorry, but that she wanted to have fun her senior year, not be tied down to a guy who was so moody.

Brandon sat upright and wandered out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. The place was spotless. His father saw to that. Not at all like the mess his mother had barely maintained when she was alive. He searched through the refrigerator, now well stocked by the housekeeper who came every day, but nothing appealed to him. He slammed the door and hurried out of the room and into the den, where his father kept a bar.

He pawed through the array of bottles. He could have anything he wanted and there was nobody there to police him. He could get stinking drunk. And pass out. Except that
was the course his mother had chosen, and look where it had gotten her. He felt like jumping out of his skin. The house was so quiet. So lonely. He missed his mother. Despite the depression that had ruled her life for the previous three years, he missed her and wanted her back.
People don’t come back from the dead
.

Brandon knew he had to get out. Go somewhere. Maybe getting lost in a crowd would help. Maybe it wouldn’t. All he knew was that he couldn’t hang around this house with its ghosts and memories. He grabbed his car keys and bolted out the side door.

The sound of the doorbell startled April. Her parents were out for the evening and they had no friends in St. Croix that she knew of who would drop by. Maybe it was someone up to no good. It occurred to her that she had opened up the house after the storm. Cool tropical air stirred through the French doors, which led to the garden. Anyone could walk in. No need to ring the bell. In New York doors were locked and bolted, and their house in Long Island had an elaborate security system.

The bell chimed again and she went to the door, flipped on the light switch, and saw Brandon Benedict through the clear glass panes of the front door. He waved and smiled. “Remember me?”

“Yes. What do you want?”

He leaned against the doorjamb. “Company.”

The way he stood came across as loneliness. His smile was more bravado than happiness. “Um—my parents—” She stopped. Should she admit that she was alone? Yet, if he’d meant to harm her, he could have done so when they were on the hill. Deciding against sending him away, she unlocked the door and opened it. “My parents are out to dinner, but they’ll be back soon. You can come in.”

“Thanks.” He stepped over the threshold, his hands jammed in his pockets. “I know I shouldn’t have just popped in on you. You made it clear that you weren’t interested in seeing me again, but I was hoping you might change your mind.”

She gestured to the sofa in the living room. The two of them sat, and she curled her legs up under her and turned to him. “I didn’t
mean to be rude. I just haven’t been in the mood to meet new people.”

“Being nice can be a pain when you’d rather be alone.”

“Sounds like the voice of experience speaking. Don’t you have friends? I mean from school?”

“My best friend’s got a girl who eats up his free time. No time for hanging anymore.”

“My best friend, Kelli, is in college out in Oregon. It’s a long way off and I miss her. No girl in your life?”

“We broke up. You out of school?”

“I graduated from high school last June; went to New York University for a couple of months, but had to drop out.”

Brandon saw shadows in her eyes again. It looked like the raw pain he knew. Something had happened, but he knew better than to ask. He hated it when people prodded him for explanations of his own moodiness. If she wanted to discuss it with him, she would. “I’ll graduate this June,” he said. It was now mid-February. “Four more months of utter boredom.”

“And then?”

He shrugged. “No plans yet.”

She was surprised. He reminded her of guys from her high school, and they’d all been planning on college. The guy she’d dated before Mark had even gotten a soccer scholarship. Brandon looked athletic and she told him so.

“I used to play basketball but don’t anymore,” he said, and she realized there would be no further explanation.

“I guess it is hard to get motivated in a place like St. Croix,” she offered. “It’s so beautiful all the time. I can’t get very enthusiastic about the future myself.” She saw no reason to mention Mark and all her reasons for feeling at such loose ends.

“Even though St. Croix is part of the U.S. Virgin Islands, it doesn’t feel much like the mainland down here,” Brandon said. “We used to visit Miami, but it wasn’t much different there than it is down here. Where you’re from, there’s winter and snow.”

“There’s snow, all right.” Facing the winter after Mark’s death had been unbearable. The night breeze brought the perfumed scent of flowers through the open doors, and from far away, she heard the sound of a ship’s horn. “The ocean is awesome and I never
grow tired of sitting and watching it. Did you know this house has stairs leading down to a cove and its own private beach?”

“I didn’t know.” Brandon enjoyed looking at April. She was certainly one of the most strikingly pretty girls he’d ever seen. In the lamp’s light, her abundant red hair gleamed in a halo around the top of her head. “Have you gone snorkeling yet?”

“Why, no.”

He saw interest in her eyes and seized on it. “Then you’re missing some of the best that the Caribbean has to offer. Under the sea there’s a whole other world. Because the sand bottom’s so white, the sun shines down to great depths, where there are coral reefs big as a jungle, and fish the colors of rainbows.”

“I’ve seen pictures taken under the sea in brochures.”

“I, um, I could take you sometime. If you’d like to go, that is. I mean, there are plenty of tourist guides that can do the same thing, but because I’ve grown up here I know underwater areas they’ve never dreamed about.” He paused, seeing the battle wage in her expression between wanting
to have such an adventure and keeping to herself. “If you want to.”

Her eyes sparkled expectantly for a moment; then the light went out and she dropped her gaze. “Thanks. But I don’t think so.”

Her standoffishness was maddening, making Brandon itch—all the more determined to know what made her tick. “Well, the offer’s open anytime.”

She glanced toward the open French doors, looked distracted, then turned back toward him. “You know, maybe it would be better if you weren’t here when my folks get home. It will mean hours of explanation if they find you here, and I’m just not up to it.”

He stood. “Sure. I know what you mean. But thanks for letting me stop by and talk. It helped.”

She puckered her brow. Could just a few friendly words have made a difference for him? Yet he did appear calmer, less agitated than when he’d arrived. “I’m glad. I enjoyed talking to you too.”

She followed him to the front door, where he paused. “Remember, on Saturdays I work at the Buccaneer, which is a pretty cool place
in itself. If you ever want to drop by for a tour of the place, ask for me at the pro shop.”

She agreed, although she believed she never would, and told him good night.

Once Brandon was gone, April couldn’t concentrate on the book she’d been reading before his arrival. There was something about him … something lonely and full of longing that she couldn’t get out of her thoughts. She’d seen it in his eyes. She’d been made aware of such things through her association with Mark. His CF had isolated him and set him apart from his peers all his life. She remembered his telling her about being ostracized and longing to be a part of “regular” life. Her own illness had set her apart too. Except for Kelli, her friends couldn’t relate to a girl with a brain tumor. Not that anyone could see it! It was just that once they knew, everything was different. Guys hadn’t been able to handle it either. Not that it had mattered in the long run, because it had opened the door for her relationship with Mark. Still, she knew firsthand what loneliness felt like.