Island Promises (17 page)

“Deal,” she said.

Half an hour later, she had showered, again breaking the rule and using
Reprieve
’s water supply. She was sitting on the bunk, painting her nails and listening to Mitchell hum old Rock ‘n Roll songs in the galley while the smells of exotic spices and grilled fish filled the cabin. She had already sent an e-mail to Chef Jorgege’s people asking for a press pass for Mitchell. She’d fudged quite a lot in the text, never coming out and saying Mitchell was a reporter but putting his name out there, along with her name and the station’s. So what if at the last minute she couldn’t go and Mitchell went alone? Big names were used to promises of publicity that never came true.

When Mitchell called out he was leaving, she nestled back on the pillows, peering up through the open hatch at the Easter egg blue sky, and fell asleep.

Riley watched Joe stride down the dock, the duffel thrown over his shoulder, his lean, hard frame roiling effortlessly with the motion of the old, unsteady boards. The moon was high and clear tonight outlining him against the dark jungle. Joe walked with confidence and purpose, a man who knew what he was about the where he was headed.

Reaching
Reprieve
, he tossed the duffle into the cockpit and then hoisted one leg, the muscle strong and tense under the sun-faded knee-length canvas shorts, over the lifeline. As supple as a cat he boarded
Reprieve
and stood for a moment, his gaze going from stern to bow and up each halyard in his automatic check of equipment.

Only then did he bend to pick up the duffle and only then did he see her huddled in the back corner of the cockpit, wrapped in a blanket. In the dark, she watched a smile split his sunburned face. He let the duffle drop and stepped over it to sit next to her. She reached down to the wine bucket on the cockpit floor and handed him a beer in a bottle. After taking a long swig, he wiped his mouth, settled his feet on the opposite settee, and dropped his head against the cabin wall.

“All done?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“You do this every year?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like you’re trying out for a spaghetti Western.” He rubbed the cold, dripping bottle against her arm and she yelped.

“Don’t make fun,” he said.

“You must be hungry and exhausted,” she said. “I have dinner and fresh sheets on the bunk.”

He was so tired he didn’t react to the fact that she had cooked.

She studied him. His hair had grown longer, falling straight to the bottom of his ears where it curled slightly. A brown beard covered the lower part of his face, a concession to lack of time and protection against days in the hot sun. Even in the coolness of the evening, heat radiated from his skin where the sun had burned down on it hour after hour.

“Sounds good,” he said.

Hugging the blanket tightly, she rose. “I’ll just get the fish out of the oven and toss the salad.” She began to step over his outstretched legs when he stopped her, a hand on either hip, his legs firm against her thighs.

“The oven on warm?” he asked.

“Yes, I didn’t know exactly when you’d be back.”

“Let’s eat a little later.” He pulled her toward him until she stood inches from him, his legs open wide, his hands maneuvering her hips until they connected, sending electric shocks through her.

He put his hands on her shoulder blades and bent her forward, kissing her and ruffling her freshly washed hair. His hands slipped down her neck and under the blanket to her shoulders. His eyes opened in surprise and he laughed, low and eager.

“Aren’t you cold with no clothes on?”

“I’ve got this blanket.”

He laughed again, lying back on the cushions of the settee and lowering her on top of him, wrapping them both in the blanket, which had the musty old smell of the sea. If there were other cruisers docked, they paid no attention. If boats came and went, they never heard them. Sometime in the deepest part of the night, they moved inside. She paused long enough to turn off the oven and stick the fish in the cooling locker. She gave a silent apology to Mitchell. He had worked so hard on it, but right now there were more important things on her mind. Such as the beautiful man who made her heart race, her palms sweat, and her legs tremble. Mitchell would understand. Well, actually he’d probably be mad as hell. She’d find some way to make it up to him.

When the sun began to rise, they warmed the fish in the microwave while they ate the salad. They washed it all down with juice followed by strong coffee. Riley thought they might rise then and begin the never-ending list of chores on
Reprieve
—cleaning the decks, checking the stores, waxing the sides. But Joe stretched out on the bunk and motioned for her to join him.

Riley crawled into bed beside him, nestling her head in the crock of his arm, reveling in the feel and the smell of him. Only much later, when the sun was high in the sky and the day had taken on that lazy, drowsy feeling did they finally leave the bunk. They made half-hearted efforts at boat keeping, but it wasn’t long before they were in the cockpit, under the shade of the canvas awning, napping on opposite settees. Before she gave in to sleep, Riley looked across at Joe, his sandy hair brushing the top of his eyebrows, one strong, tanned arm hanging off the cushions and dragging on the floorboards, his chest rising slightly with his breath.

No matter what happened with the pirate story, no matter how competitive and ambitious she might be, she wouldn’t trade any of it for these last few hours she’d spent with Joe.

In such a short time she had come to truly care about him. Even more important, she respected him. He didn’t hide, didn’t play games, didn’t manipulate. He was the man people counted on when everyone else paid lip service and didn’t come through. She never realized how valuable that was until she saw those qualities in Joe. With him, she felt safe and loved and appreciated.

They didn’t always agree. In fact, they rarely agreed but she never felt he would walk away because she’d made him mad or because he didn’t like what she said. She’d thought she had that in Chicago with RK but that was a lie. Now that she saw the real thing she recognized that she’d constantly been on edge with RK, constantly afraid she would turn him off and he would walk.

Who knew where the pirate story might lead her? But wherever it was, she didn’t want to go if this man weren’t part of it.

“So, RK called me.” Millie was more sprawled than sitting in the chair. The patio of Rosalee’s was filled with tourists. No matter how old or what size, they wore pretty much the same style, almost a uniform consisting of light-colored pants or shorts, either khaki or white, outlandishly colored synthetic shirts, straw hats, and sunglasses. Many of them had money clips or fanny packs hanging around their waists creating bulk where they least needed it. Yet they always seemed surprised when islanders could pick them out as tourists.

Millie didn’t look like a tourist. As white as Riley’s hair had become, Millie’s had become dark. The pulled-back, no-nonsense style of Chicago was gone, replaced by rippling waves. The free-flowing cotton sundress showed off the color her skin was picking up from the sun. Her eyes were hidden behind chunky, dark glasses. She seemed calm, content, at peace. Her leg didn’t vibrate anymore; she didn’t click her teeth with a pencil. Even her words had slowed down.

“That’s nice.” Riley feigned indifference.

“Do you think maybe I should offer to help?” Mille gestured around the patio and to the restaurant inside the French doors. Every table was full and a half-dozen people waited at the bar, nursing their drinks, their stools turned around to face the diners as though their hungry gaze would hurry them along.

“They can handle it.” The staff was moving between the tables, efficiently and smoothly, but in that non-hurried island way. “So what did RK want?” Her curiosity was spilling over.

“It’s just I don’t want to not pull my weight since I’m living her pretty much rent-free.” Millie’s interest stayed with the lunch crowd.

“Millie, what did he want?” Riley was barely able to keep from grabbing her friend.

“Who?”

“RK.” Riley’s voice was rising. “What did RK want?”

“Thought you didn’t care.” A slow smile spread across Millie’s face.

“OK,” Riley conceded, realizing her friend had been deliberately dragging this out to gauge her interest. “I do want to know.”

“Professional or personal basis?”

“Professional, of course. Purely professional. Nothing but professional.” To cover her embarrassment, Riley sipped at her drink, letting her wavy hair fall forward, shielding her face.

“He wanted to make sure you saw this, for one.” Millie tossed her pages that appeared to have come from the Internet. It was the front page of the
Chicago Trumpeter
and the headline screamed, “Reporter Cleared in Love Scandal.”

As the words sank in, Riley thought her reaction strange. She would have expected to feel more, feel triumphant, vindicated, ready
to make plans to take the next plane out and resume her job at the TV station. But as she scanned the story, which basically said what she already knew—that the charges had been made up to get her off the trail of the congressman’s true wrongdoing—she felt strangely empty. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. As she looked up at Millie, Riley’s eyes must have mirrored her feelings.

“Things are good with Joe?” Even through the glasses, Riley could feel Millie’s stare. Her best friend hadn’t mentioned the fact she could now resume her career, forget this small island, and take back her life in the big time. It was as though Millie, too, was feeling that world fade from their consciousness.

“They are.”

“And the problem is?”

“Come on, Millie. This is a fantasy. Beautiful tropical island. Friendly people. Hunky guys. It has to end sometime. It can’t go on forever.”

For a moment Millie didn’t answer, just stared at her in that newfound calm, appraising way she had. It was downright disconcerting to see her without her usual jumpiness and panic attacks. “I believe,” Millie finally said. “That this can go on.” She gave a loud laugh. “Holy crap, now I sound like the soundtrack for a movie.”

They both laughed.

“Seriously.” Millie sipped on her drink, giving herself a moment. She shoved the sunglasses to the top of her head, letting Riley see the intensity and earnestness in her eyes. “Chicago, all that stuff about getting to the top, getting to the network, that’s what wasn’t real. That was the made-up fantasy world. Here . . .” She swept one arm, which while still pretty white by island standards was picking up hints of a tan, out toward the patio, the trees on the slope beyond and to the sea, which today was putting on a real show, sparkling for the tourists. “Here, people are real. They know what’s important. Hell, being on the 11:00 news every night, where does that get you? Maybe to a shot at anchor of the 6:00 news? In the end what difference does it make? It’s all about the people and the land. On this island I’ve found both. People I can really love and a land I can really care about.”

It was Riley’s turn to stare. She hoped her mouth wasn’t gaping open but she wouldn’t guarantee it wasn’t. A thousand questions went through her mind. How could such a change have come to Millie in so little time? Did she really mean this? Had she fallen that deep and that fast for Henri? The question she put a voice to was:
Where’s my friend Millie and what have you done with her? This replacement is pretty good but the real one must be circling above us in the mother ship, tapping her pencil, pacing, and demanding to be released right this instant.

Millie threw back her head, her long, dark hair rippling down her back and laughed again in a throaty way. Then she did something that confirmed for Riley she wasn’t who she pretended to be. She got up, came around, and hugged Riley. “You’ve been a good friend to me. The best. I want for you what I have now. A sense of who you are and where you belong. People to love who love you back. You’re worth it.” Riley felt her giggle against her hair. “Holy crap, now I sound like a damn hair color commercial. Maybe the sun’s getting me.” With that she straightened up and turned to leave, sliding the sunglasses back down to shield her eyes.

Riley was so astounded that she almost forgot to ask about RK until Millie was a few steps away.

“Millie, what about RK? What did he want?”

Millie turned and gave a small smile. “He said you’ve been avoiding him, won’t answer his calls.”

“Damn straight. The last time he was such a jerk.”

“He said to tell you to call. The network got the pirate story. Apparently you forwarded it using the station’s logos.”

“Yeah.” Riley was expecting to hear that she was in even more trouble for using the logos.

“They loved it. They want it. And they want you. Call him.” With that, Millie was gone and Riley was left alone, swirling the straw slowly in her drink, looking out toward the sea and wondering what the hell she would do now.

Chapter 9

Riley toyed with the thin, flat bread that resembled the bread sticks in Italian restaurants back home and resisted the urge to help herself to more tea. She was waiting for Millie, something she seemed to have devoted her life to since her friend from Chicago had marched onto the dock. When she’d first realized it was Millie who had hired
Reprieve
, she was overjoyed. But in the back of her mind she was leery of spending two weeks with her boss. She had even complained to Mitchell and explained to Joe that her time would be occupied with her old friend, who knew no one on the island and needed her.

But since they had wrapped the pirate story, she had barely seen Millie. They had crossed paths once or twice for a few moments. Henri was almost always there, waiting while Millie grabbed some clothes from her cabin on
Reprieve
or made vague plans with Riley to catch up. Those plans never materialized.

Millie and Henri had gone from barely disguised hate for each other to not being able to keep their hands off each other. When she joined him, Henri invariably slung a muscular, tanned arm around Millie, and she looked up at him, seeing only him. Riley had actually watched her giggle at something Henri said. Back in Chicago, she and Millie had shared cups of coffee, fueling their already jangled nerves, and made wise cracks about the cotton-candy-for-brains girls who giggled at everything a man said.

Riley blew out a breath. Maybe she was being too harsh. After all, she had found Joe on this island. But he had been out of sorts this week. He had planned on a charter and Millie’s insistence that
Reprieve
not leave the dock had ruined his plans. Not that Millie spent much time on
Reprieve
, but the boat was still hers. She had paid for the time.

Thinking about Joe, his sandy hair washed by the sun, his face so serious when it had anything to do with sailing or
Reprieve
, his long, hard body, made Riley warm. But, Riley consoled herself, Joe didn’t make her giggle. And whatever she had with Joe would be gone now that the mess in Chicago was cleared up and she was on the fast track again.

To Riley’s surprise, the thought of never seeing Joe again sparked a physical reaction. Her stomach dropped to her toes, her mouth went dry and she thought, to her embarrassment, that she might break into tears on the spot. The only other time she’d felt like this was when someone had died. Yes, she had fallen for Joe in a short time, but the depth of her feeling for him was scaring her. Maybe getting out would be a good thing. If she got in any deeper, she might not be able to walk away.

After Millie had shown her the headline and story saying she was in the clear and delivered the message about the network liking the pirate story, Riley had desperately wanted to talk to RK but Millie had said he was on assignment for the week, somewhere in New York. Riley could just imagine what kind of assignment that would be. Probably involved a lot of foreign correspondents with long legs and even longer hair he hadn’t seen in quite a while. Not that she thought about him sleeping with them. She couldn’t bring herself to face that possibility, couldn’t let it in. He was just a flirt and he attracted women like flies to honey. She should be happy that of all the women, she was the one he chose.

“You look troubled.” Rosa sat down beside her, arranging the flowered dress she wore over her stomach. She was not a pretty woman but Riley had come to love and respect the broad face with its bold features and the kindness that shone from her eyes.

“Ever hit one of those patches in life where nothing has gone the way you expected?” Riley stirred her drink and looked into it as though the answers were there.

“That is not a patch. That is life. The way it is. Plans are fine and grand and keep us thinking. But, ultimately, it is God who decides.”

“Well, I wish he’d hurry up and decide which way things are going.”

“You thought Millie would spend more time with you.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Does it show that much?”

“If you are worried Millie will notice and be hurt, don’t be. She and Henri only have time and thoughts for each other. It may be hurtful but I don’t believe she has even considered your feelings.”

“What about you? You’re his mother. You and Stanley must be on pins and needles about what will happen. How hurt will he be when Mildred, I mean Millie, goes back to Chicago?”

Rosa nodded to Stanley, who was wiping down the bar. Sensing her gaze, he smiled at her with a warmth Riley envied.

“Neither one of us believes that Millie will be returning to Chicago.” Rosa paused and patted Riley’s hand with her own, reading in her face her surprise. “No, not that Henri has said a thing to us. But we are, as you pointed out, his parents. We have watched and we have waited. It has become clear that he cares very much for this woman. And she for him.”

“Rosa, you can’t be serious. You really think the two of them will chuck everything they know and run off into the sunset together?” Riley could barely sit still. The idea made her nervous.

“You misunderstand. We, Stanley and I, do not believe they will throw everything away. We believe they will come to an understanding and a way of life that will be different for at least one of them.”

“You’re okay with that? They’ve barely known each other a couple of weeks.”

“I knew Stanley for only a very short time and yet I knew in my heart and in my soul that my life would be so much better, so much richer with him in it. I knew that long before I knew his parents’ names or what his favorite food was.” Rosa looked at her husband. He was the type of man few women would give a second glance to, skinny and quiet, pale skin and thinning hair. But in Rosa’s face there was admiration and love. “Once you get the big things right, the small things fall into place.”

Her comments made Riley think. So she didn’t know Joe’s favorite food, his favorite color or his grandparents’ names. There hadn’t been time for that; they’d only known each other a short while. What she did know, though, was that he would stand in front of her when she was attacked, he would steer a boat through a horrible storm and handle an air-lift of a sick passenger, he would put on a suit, one thing she knew he hated, and watch while one of his best friends married.

She also knew that when he loved, he committed deeply and completely. She could feel it in the way he held her at night, hear it in the before-sleep talk about future plans and future voyages, experience it in the way he was annoyingly concerned about where she went, what she did.

With all of her being she knew he loved her, even though he hadn’t said it. And, God help her, she was beginning to feel the same way about him.

The atmosphere in the room changed. It became lighter, happier, more layered. Riley could feel the difference. She looked across the dining room, where about a dozen tables were occupied and saw Henri and Millie entering.
Does love do that?
Does it send out a net that draws everyone around in?
And was this really love they felt for each other?

“Mama.” Henri bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. The two faces were so alike. Both strong, both peaceful. His was lighter, his eyes more evenly spaced, his nose smaller, more sculpted. Hers was bigger, darker, bolder, but there was no doubt they were mother and son.

He took Millie’s hand and shifted her under his arm. She had become someone Riley would not have recognized. The pale skin that never saw anything but fluorescent lights had gained color in the tropic sun. Pink dotted her cheeks and her forehead. Her hair was a loose mass of dark waves cascading down her back and framing her face. The body she spent time toning in a gym only to cover in black turtlenecks, long sweaters and pleated pants was on full view in light colored Capri pants, a skimpy top that showed her belly button and a tiny button shirt thrown over top.

“You got your belly button pierced,” Riley cried.

“Do you believe it? Henri suggested it. At first I said absolutely not. Too much chance for infection, or pain. But then I thought about it. Why not? You only live once,” Millie said.

“Can we go over to the bar?” Henri asked.

Rosa took her time hefting herself from the chair and making her way to the bar. Stanley reached across and gave his son an affectionate kiss on the forehead. Both parents beamed at him as though he were a baby taking his first steps.

“We have an announcement,” Henri said.

“One moment,” Rosa interrupted. “Any announcements call for champagne. Stanley, do we have some back there?”

They watched in silence as he brought out the bottle, wrapped it in a towel, and then they laughed as he popped the cork, letting it fly across the bar. Several diners laughed and applauded.

When the glasses were filled, they raised them and waited. Riley’s stomach was doing flip-flops. She had tried to leave, said this sounded like a family affair but Millie had stopped her, saying she was the nearest thing she had to family on this island.

“We’re getting married,” Henri shouted, raising his glass in one hand and Millie’s in the other where a ring was prominently displayed.

Riley began to choke and couldn’t stop. Stanley came around the bar and Henri got behind her. They bent her over, rubbed her back. Her eyes watered and spittle dribbled from the sides of her mouth. All through the room there was quiet concern and revulsion.

“The bubbles,” Riley gasped when she could finally get some air. “Up my nose.” They let her go but they stood close, watching her. She tried to tak
e a deep breath but her lungs rebelled and she coughed again. Before they could double her over for the second time, she waved them off and willed herself to settle down and let some air into her system.

“Riley, I had no idea this would choke you up so much.” Millie broke the ice and they laughed, although it was tinged with anxiety.

Riley forced the corners of her mouth up into a half-hearted smile, even as she used a bar napkin to dab at her shirt where the spittle had made a spray pattern.

“We will have an island wedding. All the traditions. It will be beautiful,” Rosa said.

Millie and Henri exchanged a glance and then Henri addressed his mother. “Millie and I”—he looked to his future bride for support, courage—“We want to get married right away. Next weekend.”

“We’re not expecting anything big or fancy,” Millie rushed in. “We don’t want you to put yourselves out or go to any trouble. It’s just that we’re so happy together and this feels so right we don’t want to wait.”

Rosa took Millie’s face between her hands and then kissed her future daughter-in-law’s cheek. “This is our only son.” She dropped her hands from Millie’s face and patted Henri’s back. “Nothing is too much trouble. This will be a joy to us. Nothing about this could be a burden.”

“One more thing, Mama.” Henri again looked toward Millie. “We would like to stay here, in my quarters, after we’re married. Millie loves this place, too. I will continue to work here and, perhaps, we can find a place for Millie to work as well. She’s so smart and she knows a lot about advertising and has some great ideas about guest relations.” He paused. “If that’s all right with you.”

Tears in her eyes, Rosa nestled her head into the crook of her husband’s arm for a moment and he rubbed the side of her arm, kissed the top of her head. Then she took Millie’s and Henri’s hands in each of her own. “Nothing could make us happier.”

While the family scene was playing out, Riley nodded at Stanley and slipped out into the bright sunlight. When she was enough of a distance away, she let the cough she had been suppressing go full steam. Choking and sputtering, she stumbled into a clearing under a palm tree and collapsed against the trunk, noisily breathing in the ocean air. It was all too much to take in. The transformation of her tough-talking, career-oriented friend. The sudden announcement of a wedding and the parents, rather than screeching about how there wasn’t enough time to plan, welcoming the celebration. There was also the bleak possibility of returning to Chicago without Millie. Who would she gossip with about the new anchorman and whether his hair was real? Who would pick up the pieces, yet again, when RK decided to pull one of his enormously selfish stunts and she was left in mental tatters?

The only thing she knew for sure was she had to get the hell off this island before whatever was in the water affected her and turned her brain to soap opera mush so that all she wanted was to find a strong, reliable man, settle down in a shack, and pop out babies. Pulling herself together, she headed for
Reprieve
and hoped no one was there. She needed to get on that computer, to finalize the details about the pirate story with the network, and get back to her old life.

By the time Riley reached
Reprieve
, she was pacing the deck, ranting at first Anthony and then Mitchell, who told her to “chill out” and “get a frigging grip” before they disappeared mumbling something about urgent business somewhere, anywhere, else. She zeroed in on Joe, who sat down heavily and watched her madwoman act until she could no longer stand it herself.

“How can you just sit there and let them make this terrible mistake?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.

“Who says it’s a mistake?” His brown eyes challenged her.

Damn, she hated the way his sandy hair slid down over one eye. It made him look so cute it was distracting. She looked away. Hard to think when those muscular legs, which could wrap around her and nearly lift her off the bunk, were only a foot away.

“Of course it’s a mistake. They barely know each other. I’ll bet Henri doesn’t know Millie has this thing about game shows. She’s absolutely addicted to the worst, the dumbest ones. She probably hasn’t told him she can’t eat fish if the eyes are still there and looking at her. Ten to one they haven’t talked about . . .”

Joe stood, then took both her hands and trapped them between his. “They know what they need to know,” he said as softly as the breeze. “They know they love each other. They know their souls have touched.” He let her hands drop and leaned in, rubbing and kneading the small of her back with his fists, gently nibbling her earlobe. “I’ll bet Henri knows the places and the points that drive her crazy. He knows how she looks in the moonlight. How she aches for beached dolphins and lost kittens.” He rocked her back and forth a little and edged her toward the companionway and what had become “their” cabin.

“My friend Henri knows what he has. Knows quality.” He kissed her, slowly, deeply, then backed down the companionway, leading her behind him. When they got to the bottom, he pulled her into him and ran his hands from her hairline slowly down her back making each vertebrae jump under the gentle pressure of his fingertips.