Barefoot in White (Barefoot Bay Brides) (35 page)

“That’s what you do, Mom,” she shot back. “So, for all your rainbows and talk of the great beyond and promises to change, what’s the first thing you do? Drop a little photo bomb on my happiness.”

Ona just stared at her, a white-hot horror twisting through her. “How did that ruin your happiness?”

“He…I…we…” She kicked some sand and then let out a long, slow sigh. “I am so freaking tired of this. Why am I blaming you?”

Good question.

“I’m just using you and Nick as excuses, you know that? I’m trying to take control of my life, and I’m giving it all to you and Nick.” She shook her head and wiped her hands as if cleaning her personal slate. “No more. I’m done. Forget the picture. Forget the past. Forget everything.”

“You can’t do that, Willow.”

“I can try!” She whipped around and took off, getting a good five strides in before Ona shot forward and caught up with her, grabbing her elbow.

“And you will fail!”

“Look at me,” Willow demanded, opening her arms to invite a full-body inspection. “Do I look like a person who fails? One hundred and twenty pounds lost. Is that
failure
, Mom? But it isn’t enough, is it?” Her voice broke with tears.

“Enough for what?”

“To be loved,” she admitted on a shudder.

“Willow!” Ona threw her arms around her sobbing daughter and pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together. “How can you say that? I love you. Dad loves you. Your friends love you. And, whether you want to accept it or not, Nick loves you.”

The only answer was a shoulder shake with the next sob.

“And I left the picture with him because when he looked at it, that’s when I
knew
he loved you.” She eased Willow back so she could look in her eyes. “Do you know what he said when he saw it?”

She shook her head.

“He said, ‘Her fire is on. Her smile is real. Her heart is right there in her eyes.’ But it wasn’t just
what
he said, honey, it was
how
he said it. He sounded so much like your father when he’s writing a song for me.”

Willow blinked at her. “Really?”

“You don’t know how much he cares for you?”

She sniffed. “He tried to tell me.”

“But you refused to hear him.”

“I…I…”

“You can’t believe him even though he has given you absolutely no reason not to—and don’t you blame him for not telling you about me being here. He really did think he was helping the two of you by helping the two of us.”

Willow let out a soft grunt and looked skyward. “What a mess I’ve made.”

“Then fix it.”

“Spoken like a true manipulator.”

“Willow, there’s no manipulation involved. The man is in love with you. And I’m pretty sure that’s mutual. Take all that steel armor off your heart and give it to him.”

For the first time all day, something that looked like hope lit Willow’s eyes. “You think I can?”

“I know you can.”

“No, Mom. He’s gone, and I blew it. I walked out on him, and it would be impossible to get him back now.”

Ona laughed softly. “Nothing is impossible.” She put her hands on Willow’s cheeks and held her beautiful face very still. “That is the one thing I learned on my journey. Absolutely nothing is impossible.”

“Oh, Mom.” This time, the embrace was genuine, with Willow’s long, strong arms wrapping around Ona and holding her close. “Some things are impossible, but…but…”

“But what?”

Willow leaned back, her eyes red, her makeup streaked. “But I want to try. I
have
to try.” She touched her tear-stained face. “Am I a mess?”

“You’re beautiful, inside and out.”

Willow smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that.”

“Shame on me.”

“No.” Willow shook her head. “No more shame. Not on either one of us.” She grabbed Ona’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “I gotta go. I have something I have to do.” She started to step away, but then she stopped suddenly. And quite unexpectedly, she leaned forward and kissed Ona’s cheek. “Thanks. It shouldn’t sound weird to say this, but I’m afraid it does. But I’m going to say it anyway. I think I should. I want to.”

“Say what?”
Please, please. Say it.

“I love you, Mom.”

And with that, Willow took off across the beach, running full speed with her bare feet kicking up a wake of flying sand. Ona stayed firmly planted, her hand pressed to her burning cheek, her daughter’s words echoing in her heart.

She’d never ever heard anything so beautiful in this world or the next.

“I love you, too, baby girl,” she whispered.

As Willow disappeared around the resort, Ona lifted her hands to the sky and wept with gratitude.

* * *

As Willow ran the length of the beach, her mother’s heartfelt apology bounced around her heart and head, welcome in both places. But now, she had to see if there was any possibility Nick hadn’t left yet.

She had to tell him—

Hope soared when she saw the front door of Artemisia wide open. He was still there! He hadn’t left yet. She slipped through the gate, a dozen different opening lines bouncing around her head. Should she go for funny? Serious? Loving? Sarcastic?

But nothing really formed as she stepped into the sun-dappled living room and heard the sound of…a vacuum…sucking up any bits of Nick’s stay that he might have left.

“Hello?” she called.

The vacuum stopped immediately, and a woman Willow recognized as a housekeeping staff member stepped into the hall.

“Oh, hello,” the woman said. “I’m almost done. Do you have something to leave for the next guest?”

The next guest.

“Is he gone?” Willow made no attempt to hide the disappointment.

“Oh, yes, long gone.”

She felt like she’d been shoved off a cliff. “Are you sure?” She sounded desperate, but, then, she was. “He didn’t…”
Change his mind?

“Oh, you want that little thingy he left behind?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s unbelievable how people leave a villa or room and forget something every time. I must find a charger a week.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something electronic. Right there, on the counter.”

Willow walked to the stretch of gleaming granite that separated the kitchen from the living area. There was the tiny jump drive she’d handled dozens of times in the past month, his favorite way to deliver pages for her to read. Under it, the picture of Willow in Paris.

Of course, he left that behind.

“Is that what the guy’s looking for?” the maid asked.

“I…yeah.” Willow slipped the drive in her pocket and picked up the photo. “Did he leave anything else?”

“There was a little box next to the bed,” she said. “It had a few candles in it and what looked like a bag of rose petals, of all bizarre things. I put the candles on the dresser, but I have no idea what to do with the rose petals. Did he want those, too?”

For a second, Willow couldn’t breathe.

Rose petals and candles
. He really had them. She blinked against an unwanted burn in her eyes. “No, you can just toss them.”

“Seems a shame. Don’t we have a wedding this weekend? Would make a nice surprise for some newlyweds.”

A very nice surprise. She just lifted a shoulder, not trusting her voice right then. Wordlessly, she turned and left, reaching into her pocket to hold on to the only thing she had left of Nick.

As she walked out of the villa, she glanced down at the picture, her stomach clutching at how ugly she’d been. She certainly didn’t see fire or light or anything attractive. She flipped the photo to save herself from having to look at it and noticed some writing on the back. Nick’s writing. She knew his scribble from seeing it on manuscript pages.

Rewriting History by Nicholas S. Hershey.

With her other hand, she squeezed the jump drive so hard, she could have cracked the plastic case.

Where could she go? Where was the closest computer?

Her parents would be in the Barefoot Brides offices, but she had to read this. Right now.

Back in the resort lobby, she bypassed the management offices and slipped into the darkened business center that very few resort guests used while on vacation. Today was no different. The room was dim and empty, the lone computer set up for guests dark.

She fired it to life, stuck the jump drive in, and opened the folder. There was only one file—all of the drafts of his untitled manuscript had been deleted. But she opened the one called RH.

Rewriting History.

Immediately, the familiar double-spaced manuscript page appeared, in his favorite font.

Bracing herself for whatever she might find, she read the opening lines.

Rick Hanson put down his copy of
The Grapes of Wrath
and watched the co-ed walk through the dormitory lounge for the third time in an hour. This pass, she smiled at him, and he couldn’t help smiling back. She had a fire in her eyes that reminded him of a flickering gas flame. The wordless exchange made her stop and take a few steps closer, and something deep in his gut told him his life was about to change for the better…and forever.

She stared at the words, choking back a sob. She dropped her chin into her hands and leaned closer to the screen, enthralled by this piece of fiction as much as the man who rewrote history.

For the next hour, she read a short story that made her laugh, brought her to tears, turned her on, and, in the end, made her sigh with happiness. It wasn’t the truth, but it was the best piece of fiction she’d ever read.

She didn’t know where he was or if he would ever be back. But she did know that if she ever saw Nick Hershey again, her first words would be,
I love you
.

Chapter Twenty-nine

From the parking lot of the Casa Blanca Resort & Spa, Nick could hear the distinctive chords of
Piece of Me
, one of Z-Train’s best blaring from the beach. But that wasn’t a DJ spinning the tune, he thought as he reached the double glass doors and nodded to a valet.

That was the real deal.

Of course, the Donny and Ona “event” was in full swing. But that didn’t change a thing. He’d come to find Willow and tell her what he’d decided in the last few days while he was away. He could have waited until tomorrow morning, knowing that on a quiet Sunday morning, he’d find her in the office, listening to her classical music and getting caught up on work. But he couldn’t wait. His flight had landed an hour ago in Fort Myers, and without giving it much thought, he’d rented a car and come to Mimosa Key.

He’d found her apartment empty and decided she must have cracked her shell and come to the party. A swell of pride rolled through him. She’d made the right choice, after all. Would she make one more?

Time to find out.

He veered through the dimly lit lobby and made his way to the back doors that led to the sands of Barefoot Bay. Halfway there, he heard the final killer note of
Piece of Me
followed by a garbled speaker on a microphone. Then it grew quiet.

As he reached the door, one of the Casa Blanca employees suddenly appeared next to him.

“I’m so sorry, sir, but there’s a private party on the beach tonight, and you can’t go out there without an invitation.”

Like that would stop him. “I’m going—”

The door whipped open, and suddenly, he was face-to-face with Donny Zatarain.

For a split second, neither of them spoke. Then Donny’s face brightened. “Holy shit, am I glad to see you. I need a…a…what do you call the guy who’s on the lookout?”

“Guard duty.”

“Right. And you just pulled it.” Donny snagged Nick’s arm and yanked him outside, then ushered him away from a hundred flickering torches around a dance floor and bar and the happy chatter of a small, well-oiled party. Only when they were out of sight did the cigarette pack come out.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” Donny asked on his first long exhale.

Nick gave an awkward laugh. “Because I’m predictable?”

“Predictable is good,” Donny said. “Women love it. Makes them feel secure and in control.”

“Is that the secret to your happy marriage, Mr. Z?” Nick asked.

“Depends.” He narrowed one blue eye at Nick. “Are you here looking for marriage advice?”

Possibly. If everything went his way. “What I’m here for is a very specific mission, sir.”

He got a toothy grin around the cigarette. “I love when you go all macho military on me.”

“Then you might not like what I’m about to tell you.” Nick slid his hands in his pockets, still trying to get used to saying these words. “I’m leaving the military.”

“Really? I thought you were a lifer Navy SEAL type.”

“I am, I
was
,” he corrected. “My hearing has improved, but it’s still not up to the standards of the military, and I can’t get excited about pushing papers after what I trained to do. I think I’m taking a medical discharge and…” He looked out to the black horizon, formulating his thoughts. “I might like to try my hand at writing as a profession.” He waited for the expected scoffing.