Heart's Paradise (16 page)

Jonathon wanted it to be true as he traced the photo with his finger. He wanted to be a father, he wanted to be the young girl’s dad. His sisters were popping out kids one after another, and each time he held a new little addition to the family, he’d felt a longing to be grounded to something greater than good times and women. He wanted to see what his own genes could create. To experience the birth of his own child and to have his own newborn grip his finger.

He
had
to remember Phoebe, because somewhere, somehow, at some time he’d met her. He’d slept with her, Jesus, why couldn’t he remember? Twelve years ago he was in college. He ran through his girlfriends, his female friends, acquaintances, but none fit Phoebe’s description.

Then he found a murky memory of a frat party buried in the dusty recesses of his mind. He’d had a bunch of beers, several shots of something or another, and a blonde had caught his eye. A shy woman who’d told him she was a biology major. And a virgin. They’d found a room upstairs… Things grew hazy afterward. Flashes of her sweet face, her lips, her big brown eyes. They’d had sex, he knew that much. She’d told him her name, but his brain refused to reveal what it was. Jonathon knew who it had to be.

He cupped Phoebe’s face and stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. “Why wouldn’t you tell me, angel?”

God, he had a kid he’d never known about. He was a father. He knew he should be angry with Phoebe’s deception, or afraid of the idea of being a little girl’s dad. Maybe he was in shock, because all he felt was heartache with failing Phoebe in such a monumental way. Had he been cruel to her that night? Had he been a jerk which had made it impossible for her to come to him with the truth?

He’d left for London a few weeks after the party. How would she have found him in London? Had she even looked?

The day wore on. Phoebe awoke, and Jonathon offered her a drink from a bottle, keeping his hundred questions to himself. After she swallowed a bit, he took a sip, just enough to dampen his parched throat. He’d drink sparingly, she’d need it more.

“My leg hurts,” Phoebe mumbled. She tried to shift, but gasped in pain.

He cradled her head in his lap. “Don’t move, angel, you’ll do more damage.”

“I’m uncomfortable and cold.” Her eyes held a distant look as she peered at the blue sky above. “We need a fire.”

He frowned. Without wood or the flint still in her bag on the ground above, they couldn’t have a fire. She should know that. Chills raced over his skin, and his chest squeezed in worry.

“Phoebe, do you know where you are?” he asked. His heart beat an erratic rhythm, she looked pale and her lips were bluish. Internal injuries? He hadn’t thought to check. A cold sweat broke out on his brow.

“I-I’m not sure.” She squinted, seeing his face. “Jonathon?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re in the Maldives, remember? We fell down a sinkhole.”

He placed his hand on the flat of her stomach. It felt soft and yielded beneath his pressing fingers. His required first aid course said internal injuries would’ve made someone’s stomach hard due to blood pooling. He sagged, hoping he remembered the little tidbit right. He hadn’t paid a huge amount of attention to the boring class.

“That’s right, I fell. I remember now.” She winced. “I’m thirsty.”

He offered her more water.
Why didn’t you tell me? The moment we met on the island you could’ve told me about Sarah.
He held his tongue—now wasn’t the time.

“How will we get out of here?” she asked. “Can we climb out?”

He chewed his lip and stared at the blue sky above, thinking how close the phones would be. “No way to climb out. I haven’t figured out how to escape, but we’ll find a way.”

Because come hell or high water he’d make sure Phoebe returned to her daughter.
His
daughter.

She let out a shuddering sigh of pain. He stroked her hair, wishing so much to take the injury within himself. Jonathon would do it in an instant because he was stronger, and Phoebe looked so fragile.

She gave him a small grin, but her face was drawn. “Jonathon, I have something important to tell you. About Sarah.”

“Shh, you’ll see her again soon.” Jonathon cut her off, her voice sounded too shaky to have the coming conversation.
I already know.
“We’ll talk about her later, okay?”

“But…” Her eyelids drooped down. “I need to tell you something…”

Phoebe let out a soft breath then was out. The cavern loomed around them. A cage, a crypt—he shuddered at the last.

“I’ll get us out of here,” he promised, sliding from beneath Phoebe’s head.

He explored the walls, searching and testing every inch he could reach. By the time afternoon threw the hole into deep shadow he’d made the circle more times than he could count. Their escape didn’t lie in climbing out.
So what then?
He reached up and scratched his forehead underneath the headband with the camera. The producers would be able to upload the whole thing. Would they still televise it if the worst happened?

Jonathon scowled. Yes, it’d be worth a fortune in ratings.

A lightbulb went off. He yanked the camera off his head, then went over and pulled Phoebe’s free as well. He grabbed their machetes, laying one flat on the ground. He gripped the other and placed the first camera on the flat blade. He brought the machete down. The camera cracked, and another couple of whacks assured Jonathon he’d destroyed it. He did the same with the other camera. Once the GPS vanished, the producers might get concerned and send out a search party.

It seemed the one chance they had, and he could only pray it’d work.

Chapter 16

Phoebe drifted in and out of consciousness. She fought the dark sea in her mind each time it pulled her under. Fought with everything she had, but her reserves of strength were waning. A chill had settled deep in her bones, the pain in her leg had seeped into every nerve in her body. But she was grateful for it, because as long as the pain thrummed it kept her restless. Sleep only came in snatches before she’d shift this way or that, and wake in agony.

Jonathon’s eyes glowed in the darkness. He clutched her hand and kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation. About each of his sisters, each niece and nephew. Soon she knew everything about them. Favorite colors, husbands, birthdays, holiday gifts, even a secret about his favorite sister Maggie he’d promised not to share with the rest of their family.

A flood of sentences pouring from his mouth until he grew hoarse. Ceaseless chatter to fill the void—he seemed frightened whenever silence settled between them. She tried to offer him comfort, but talking left her exhausted.
I need to tell him about Sarah.
Each time she mentioned Sarah’s name, he’d interrupt and talk about something else. But like the pain, the sound of his voice gave her something to grasp onto. Light when the dark threatened to consume her.

He already knows about Sarah, he’s figured it out from the photo in my bag.
The idea nagged her but did little to put her concerns to rest. She rubbed her fingertip over her lucky bracelet before hugging the picture frame close.
I love you, Sarah. I promised I’d never leave you the day they laid you on my stomach.
Her daughter had been so small yet so full of life. Even her reluctant grandmother Cybil had been instantly smitten when she’d finally arrived at the hospital the morning after Sarah’s birth. She wrote a popular song afterward and dedicated it to Sarah.

Her mother didn’t even know Sarah’s father was Jonathon Breck. Phoebe had shared a half-truth—a random drunken college fling, but she’d lied about not knowing the guy’s name.

What if she died and Sarah never learned the truth? She’d protected her from the imagined monster she’d made Jonathon into, but had she been fair? I should’ve given him a chance, she thought. An opportunity to prove himself, after all he wasn’t some burned out pothead like her own father had been.

“She’s yours.” The words were a whisper. Jonathon didn’t respond, perhaps he hadn’t heard her. She tried to force the words out louder, but the effort was too much and only came out as a groan.

He’d slumped over her, but suddenly straightened. “I dozed off. Are you awake?”

She managed to nod.

“I destroyed the cameras,” Jonathon said. “They’ll notice the GPS down and come looking for us. They’ll be able to see the last place we were. Help will be here soon.”

Phoebe wanted to believe him. She tried to nod. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. “I don’t think I can keep awake much longer, angel,” he said. “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.”

He’d said that once to her, and she’d slipped away as soon as he’d fallen asleep. This time, though, she wouldn’t leave him. She forced her eyes open, staring through the gaping hole above. Starlight twinkled, hinting at a beautiful night. She and Jonathon could’ve been above, huddled around a campfire. Her giving him the cold shoulder while he tried to draw her into conversation. Why was she mad at him? She couldn’t recall at the moment, which made her feel petty. Their issues above had been silly.

Tears slipped from her eyes and she blinked. The darkness returned, tugging her forward, but she shoved the tide back. Jonathon’s soft breaths of sleep sounded peaceful. She squeezed his hand, needing the connection with him to stay awake. The sounds of nocturnal birds and frogs filled the night, carrying on while their two human island mates faced life or death.

I wish we could’ve made love one more time.
To let herself go in his embrace. Feel alive in ways she never allowed herself to be. Jonathon made her…feel.

He shifted. “Angel, are you awake?”

She nodded. “I’m here,” she whispered.

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good.”

Night turned into morning then shifted into night once more. Her leg had swollen to her toes. She alternated between shivering with cold and burning up with heat. Fever had taken hold, and with fever she knew there would be an infection.

Jonathon had tried again to find a way to climb out. A sad attempt which only brought down more dirt and sand. He was a caged lion, pacing the confines of its walls. She was useless, clinging to each of her heartbeats, each breath of the damp air. Rescue seemed hopeless as the night wore on.

Jonathon sat next to her and sipped water before offering her the rest in the bottle. The only bottle they had left, and he’d barely had any.

“Drink,” she whispered, her own throat raw from dehydration.

“I’m okay.” He was hoarse and trembling.

Night faded then the sun was up again. Weak orange light leaked into the hole. Phoebe fell into sleep, only to wake and fall asleep again. It’d grown difficult to fight the drowsiness. Jonathon drifted off nearly as much as her. Lack of water and food had worn him down too. Their chances were slim now, and Phoebe had almost made peace with the fact she’d die in paradise. Almost, but not quite, because she’d made a promise to her daughter.
I’ll never leave you, Sarah.

She stroked her bracelet and said a prayer.
Keep her safe. Let her know I loved her more than anything. My silver lining when everything had gone dark. The magic in my life I’m not sure I ever truly deserved.
If only she’d said those exact same words to her out loud.

She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She didn’t want to go, she wanted to stay, here, in Jonathon’s arms. Phoebe wanted to hold her daughter one more time. Wanted to hear her giggles, her crankiness, and her melodic singing voice.

“Please, Jonathon.”

Her voice was so weak she barely heard it, but she needed him to help her ward off the darkness closing in. His eyes were shut, the hollowed shadows beneath them reminding her how he clung to life. He’d given her almost all of the water, and there was none left. A human could only last three days without water.

Her daughter’s face suddenly filled her vision. She heard her giggling while her teenie bopper rocker played on the radio. “Sarah.” Phoebe smiled, despite knowing it was a hallucination.

Sounds registered beyond the gloom, the radio grew louder.
Doesn’t sound like music, it sounds like shouting.

Jonathon stirred, setting her head off his lap. She heard him rise then stumble.

“Hey!” he called in a raw voice. “Hey! Down here! Hey!”

It seemed like a dream. The desperate dream of a dying mind seeking solace.

Jonathon was near her again. She couldn’t find the strength to open her eyes.

“Phoebe, I hear voices. People are here for us. Phoebe? Angel?”

His hands covered her shoulders, she felt the pressure, but she was drifting from his grasp. The tide of a dark sea swept her farther from shore and there was absolutely nothing left in her to keep swimming.

“No. Angel, wake up. Phoebe. Phoebe!”

But she couldn’t go, not yet, and found the last reserve of strength left in her failing body. Her eyelids floated open, and she met Jonathon’s shimmering eyes.
He’s crying.
“Take care of Sarah,” she whispered.

Then the dark sea swept her under…

Chapter 17

Never had he felt such a mix of relief and terror. Jonathon gripped the bench as the boat sped toward the capitol. He stared at Phoebe’s ashen face, her closed, sunken eyes. She looked near death. His heart thudded behind his ribs.
She’ll be okay.
It’d become a mantra he repeated to himself as they raced over the ocean. If only they could’ve gotten a helicopter to get there quicker. Another bad storm had gathered, throwing down lightning bolts as they tried to beat it. A fluke system of bad weather for the dry season, which had grounded all air travel.

Thank God the producers had worried about the loss of their GPS signal, and the fact no one answered when they’d called the emergency cellphones. Breaking the cameras had worked. They’d used the last signal to pinpoint where to find Jonathon and Phoebe. A miracle to be grateful for, and he sent up a prayer of thanks.

Phoebe had lost a lot of weight and appeared nearly skeletal beneath her blankets. He’d give his entire fortune to see her open her eyes again.