Royally Lost (19 page)

32

The
next day, Becca walked into the tiny village store.

“
Hola
, Becca. How are you today?” asked Juan, a wrinkly-skinned Costa Rican man, who sat behind the counter of the market. His store provided everything from flashlight batteries and chewing gum, to suntan oil and flip-flops.

“
Hola
, Juan. I’m great. Another gorgeous day in paradise.”

“
Pura vida
.” Juan smiled, his crooked grin contagious.

“Live the pure life, indeed.
Pura vida
, Juan.” She placed her Diet Pepsi on the scratched narrow counter.

“You’re later than usual today,” he said.

“I overslept. There was a turtle sighting just as my shift was ending at four a.m., and I couldn’t possibly go to bed as that giant mama turtle laid her eggs in the sand. It’s such a miracle.”

“
Sí
. It is.”

Becca glanced at the magazines and newspapers. A photo on the front page of an international paper caught her eye. She picked up the publication. There, in her hands, was a picture of Nikolai and his family at some sort of ribbon cutting. Her heart skipped a beat.

“I’ll take this newspaper, too, please.”

“I thought you didn’t speak Spanish,” Juan said.

“I don’t, but I might as well start learning. Can you tell me what this headline says?” She pointed to the caption above Nikolai’s photo.

“
Sí
. It says, ‘Mondovia’s Royal Family Donates Estate for Senior Living Residence.’”

“That’s nice.” Becca traced Nikolai’s handsome silhouette. He looked so happy. It had been little more than a month, and he appeared to have moved on. She was trying, too, but Nikolai was never far from her thoughts.

“Who is this family? You know them?”

“They are from a tiny country called Mondovia. I met the son once. He was a very good person.” Her heart lurched. Would it ever get easier to see Nikolai’s photo, but know he was thousands of miles away?

Juan smiled, his eyes gentle and seeing into her heart. “Perhaps you will meet him again one day.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, and paid for her purchases. “You have a great day.”

“See you tomorrow, Becca.
Pura vida!
”

“
Pura vida
,” she called to him.

Becca loved Costa Rica, the people were so happy, and their lives were simple. The narrow roads were peppered with potholes and confusing street signs, but the weather was always warm and sunny.

The Las Baulas preserve where she volunteered was staffed by wonderful people, and she loved being a part of saving the giant leatherback turtles. The experience was even better, knowing her mother had spent time on this same stretch of beach many years before.

Becca opened her soda and took a cool drink as she headed back to her tiny beachside room. Ahead at the intersection, she noticed a tall guy wearing sandals and cargo shorts looking at a map. His back was to her, but still, he reminded her so much of Nikolai it hurt.

She glanced at the newspaper in her hand. One more picture to save. Her only way to hang on to Nikolai was through the photos she found.

As she approached the stranger, she noticed the familiar way his shorts hung on his hips and the fit of his T-shirt across broad shoulders.

Becca stopped in her tracks. He wore a blue baseball cap.

Her body went numb. Could it possibly be? The guy glanced at his map and up at the street signs. The familiar tilt of his head was a dead giveaway, unless her eyes were playing terrible tricks on her.

She approached him, recognizing his earthy scent. A grin spread across her face. She stepped closer and said, “Excuse me, are you lost?”

He froze for a second, then slowly turned.

Their eyes locked and the disbelief on his face was palpable.

“Becca!”

She couldn’t believe it. This was impossible. Nikolai’s face broke into a huge grin. He pulled her into his arms, and held her close, crushing the map in the process.

“I’m not lost anymore,” he murmured in her ear.

Becca savored the touch of his strong arms, the feel of his hands on her back, a sensation she never expected to know again.

“Oh, Nikolai!” Her eyes welled with tears of joy. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

He held her shoulders and gazed at her. “You have no idea how hard I’ve been trying to find you.”

She saw such relief in his eyes. He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her over and over. She laughed and hoped it would never end.

“I can’t believe you’re here. How did you know?”

He smiled and shook his head as if still not believing she stood before him.

“It’s a long story.”

“Let’s get out of the middle of the road,” she said. Nikolai led Becca to the side of the road, his hand a warm comfort at the small of her back. She pointed to a bench by a small park where kids kicked around a soccer ball. They sat facing each other.

“It’s so good to see you.” He cupped her cheek with his hand and kissed her again.

Becca felt she’d burst with joy. “How did you know I was in Costa Rica?” she asked, still in disbelief that Nikolai had found her.

“A guy at Northwestern.”

“You were at Northwestern?”

“It was all I had to go on. I didn’t have your last name. And I thought you lived in Chicago. I’ve turned into quite the detective. First I tried to get your info from the hostel in Prague, but all their records had mysteriously disappeared. Then I tried the riverboat company, but they refused to help, and then I even tried the Prague police department and the U.S. Embassy.”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe you did all that!”

“I told you I’d find you.” He gazed at her with so much love. She still couldn’t believe this was really happening.

She took his hand in hers. “I tried to find you, too. I guess, not find you, but reach you. You weren’t kidding when you said Mondovia is behind the times. There isn’t even an email address on the website for the royal family.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Trust me, they have email, but it’s not made public.”

“And I wrote you a letter.”

“Seriously? I never got it.”

“I wondered if that’s what happened. I got a reply back on formal notepaper from a Greta Vogel.”

“Ah yes, she fields all unofficial mail. I’m so sorry I didn’t get your letter. That would have been the simplest way to find each other.” Nikolai caressed her hand with the pad of his thumb. Everything about him felt so perfect.

“But you’re here now. And you still didn’t tell me how you knew I’d be here.”

“Sorry, I’m just so happy to see you, I can’t keep my thoughts straight. Well, after all those other outlets failed, the only thing I could think of was to go to Northwestern University and try to find you.”

Becca giggled. “You just showed up on campus and started looking for me?”

“More or less, yes. I hung outside the freshman-only dorms, the dining halls, and a couple of buildings that hold a lot of the required freshman classes.”

Becca shook her head. She couldn’t imagine the Prince of Mondovia lurking about a U.S. college campus. She linked her fingers with his. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Nikolai raised her hand and kissed it. “I did. On the third day, when I was about to give up, I made one more try and thank goodness I did. Some guy recognized your picture.”

“Who would possibly recognize me?”

“His name was Marcus. Apparently, he’s a friend of Dylan’s.”

“Oh my God, yes. Marcus goes to Northwestern.”

“He told me you weren’t on campus and gave me your home phone number. Of course, I was shocked to hear that you weren’t at university, but let me tell you, I never made a call so fast in my life. Your stepmother answered.”

“You talked to Vicky? I can’t believe she didn’t call and tell me.” They’d become close these past weeks.

“I asked her not to. Vicky and I had a lovely chat, and she told me she knew about Prague and everything that happened. She told me you were down here for the next couple of months and that you wouldn’t mind if I dropped in. Except I got this close and then couldn’t for the life of me figure out where to go next.”

Becca laughed. “Well, you did good. You dropped right into my path. But I can’t believe your parents let you come. Why aren’t you in the military?”

“We had a bit of a power struggle, but with my sister Alexi’s help, my parents finally saw the light. It was a huge compromise on their part, and I’ll always be grateful. I get to take the next year to travel and do whatever I want, and then I’ll apply to university somewhere and start next fall.”

She was so relieved for him. “So you’re still in line for the throne?”

“Yes, but someday when it’s time for me to become king, I’ll do things very differently from my father.”

“That sounds really great. I’m so happy for you.” She squeezed his hand.

“And you’re in Costa Rica. What happened?”

“Well, as I mentioned when we were in Europe, I just wasn’t feeling the college thing. I’d resigned myself to go, but after I returned home from Prague, I dreaded it even more. Vicky was really nice and we had a great talk. She told me that my mom took a year off after high school, too. She totally convinced my dad, which couldn’t have been easy. I feel really bad about how difficult I was for her the last couple of years.”

Nikolai brushed a lock of her hair over her shoulder. “I think she understands.”

“I hope so. I’ll make it up to her someday.”

“I just remembered. I brought you a gift.” He rifled deep into his backpack.

She wondered what he’d think when she confessed she had his old backpack and was using it here in Costa Rica.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” he said, with a mischievous grin.

She obeyed, her stomach tingling with excitement.

He placed something heavy into her palm. She closed her hand around a small paper bag.

“Okay, you can look.”

She peered at the crumpled paper bag. “Any chance you bought this at a hardware store?”

He laughed. “How did you know?”

She reached in and pulled out a brass padlock. She locked eyes with Nikolai and fell in love with him all over again.

“Since we both have some time to travel, I thought maybe you’d like to find another bridge and add a lock.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d love better.”

Acknowledgments

It takes a village to write and publish a book. I’d like my village to be set on a quaint hillside somewhere along the Danube River in Europe.

With me on that hillside I’d like to bring along my amazing critique partner, Linda Schmalz; beta readers, Kris Hebel, Amanda Hensen, and Kristi Tyler; research helper Ursula Vogel; the witty Killian McRae; and my lovely agent, Jane Dystel.

To Nichole Chase, who was writing
Suddenly Royal
as I was writing
Royally Lost
. What a royal coincidence. Thanks for all your help.

And to all the other people who contributed to this book who I’ve forgotten to thank, there’s plenty of room in our village for you too.

Thank you to Rosemary Brosnan, Karen Chaplin, and my entire team at HarperTeen for embracing my books. I truly appreciate all that you do.

Here’s to all the parents who take their sullen teenagers on amazing vacations, and to all the sullen teenagers who look back on those trips years later and only remember the good stuff.

And finally, no village would be complete without family. Thanks to my amazing husband and kids. Now my house in the village will have someone to mow the lawn and empty the dishwasher while I’m writing.

Excerpt from
Rock and a Hard Place

Don’t miss the first book in the

JAMIESON BROTHERS TRILOGY!

Libby
watched the cars zip by on the highway, longing for her dad’s SUV with out-of-state plates to drive up and put her life back together. From her spot under an ancient oak, she spied a red SUV exiting the interstate and turning the opposite direction.

She sighed and tried to refocus on the sketch pad in her lap and the wildflowers she’d stuffed in a soda can. But instead, she traced the scars on her palm with the tip of her drawing pencil. If only she could wash the marks away along with the memories of that tragic day. She wiped her palm against her jeans, but only the pencil marks disappeared.

She focused on her drawing and rubbed the side of her pencil on the page, shading a leaf. A rumble caught her

attention, and she glanced up; a large, gleaming bus turned off the exit and onto the county road toward her. The shiny silver-and-black exterior and darkened windows of the vehicle made it look like some sort of VIP ride or maybe a tour bus.

The bus approached the nature preserve and turned in. In all the months she’d come to Parfrey’s Glen, cars rarely pulled in, and she liked it that way. She thought of Parfrey’s Glen as her own secret place where she could get lost in her thoughts.

The rumble grew louder as the enormous bus turned and pulled to a stop in the gravel parking lot on the far side of the clearing. She waited for the door to open and reveal the famous person within. Maybe it would be some country singer. Her mom loved country music and had always dreamt of going to a big concert. But it never happened.

A moment later the door opened, and Libby’s hopes were dashed. Her quiet nature preserve had been invaded. By teenage boys.

A trio of noisy guys poured out. The first leapt from the top step and landed several feet out on the dirt, followed closely by another. The last twirled a Frisbee on his finger as he descended.

She watched them undetected from her spot under the tree, an eavesdropper on this group of loud, young strangers.

The Frisbee sailed through the warm September air as one of the guys raced to catch it. A man and woman exited the bus, their arms loaded with picnic supplies. The woman walked to a sunny spot of grass, set down her load, and spread out a couple of colorful blankets.

They were just a family; okay, a rich family. But no one famous.

Libby enjoyed a perfect view of the group. Their interaction and happy banter reminded her of her own family and made her heartsick.

Her drawing forgotten, she soaked in their every move.

One of the boys turned around, providing her with a clean line of view. He tilted his head to the side and pushed away a lock of sun-kissed hair. A tiny thrill flipped in her stomach. He held an iPod and mini speakers, and loud music filled the air.

“Peter, turn it down,” the man hollered as he set up lawn chairs.

“Dad, come on, you never let me play it loud.” Peter grinned. He adjusted the volume and set the speakers down.

“Real funny. Now get out of here before I put you to work.”

Peter darted through the long grass toward the other two boys, his movements swift and athletic. Libby’s eyes trailed his every move.

“Garrett, over here,” he yelled.

The Frisbee flew smoothly through the air. Peter leapt high and caught it. “Oh yeah, baby,” he bragged, dancing as if it were a touchdown.

He flung it back, his body grace in motion, this time to the boy first out of the bus. This one appeared younger. His hair was a mop of loose dark curls and he wore a constant grin. They continued to torpedo the disk at one another and trash talk in the hot sun of early fall. Occasionally, Peter would do some crazy move to the music playing in the background. Libby stifled a giggle.

Peter suddenly glanced her way.

Uh-oh
.

“Heads up,” the grinning boy yelled as the Frisbee sped toward the unsuspecting Peter.

Peter ducked as it whistled by and landed not far from Libby. He looked straight at her. Every emotion she wore felt exposed. He jogged over and grabbed the Frisbee from the grass, and he whipped the disc back. He turned around and grinned as he sauntered to where she sat against the giant oak. He plopped down in the unmowed grass, his chest rising heavily.

“Hey.” He looked at her with curiosity. “Whatcha doing?”

Libby’s mouth went dry as this great-looking guy stretched out before her. Apparently, he expected her to respond. Her tongue felt numb.

A year ago, she would have been comfortable with him. Now, that confidence was a distant memory. These days, guys—anyone really—rarely talked to her anymore. Libby was an outsider to the kids in Rockville, which was fine with her. She had been left in this crummy town and preferred to be alone. It was easier. She’d grown comfortable with solitude, except for now. She prayed for her former confidence to come back.

Libby held the sketch pad as a shield. “Uh, drawing,” she uttered.

“Oh.” He lay in the grass propped up on a muscular arm. He watched her with casual interest, as his breath came back. He was clearly nothing like the guys at Rockville High School.

“Are you drawing those?” He pointed at the wildflowers sticking haphazardly out of a diet soda can.

“Yeah,” she answered softly. “It’s really dumb, though,” she added, trying to sound normal and not like the insecure girl she’d become. She pulled back and forth at the pendant around her neck.

“Why’s it dumb?” His deep blue eyes gazed at her.

She shrugged. “It just is. It doesn’t mean anything—it’s just something to do.” She pressed the pencil hard against the pad and broke the lead.

“Can I see it?” Peter reached for the pad.

Libby’s face heated. “I don’t know. It’s really nothing to look at.” She pulled the bound papers close; her fist gripped the pencil tight.

When she didn’t offer him the drawing, he moved next to her. He leaned close and took the pad, and his fingers brushed against hers. He sat so near, their legs bumped. She wanted to reach out and touch him. His blond hair was still streaked by summer sun and hung past his eyebrows and over his eyes. He smelled good. Like shampoo and dryer sheets.

He studied the drawing, then wrinkled his brow as if it wasn’t what he expected. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and looked sideways at her. She noticed a touch of razor stubble on his jaw.

“It’s not of me,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“Why would it be?”

“Well, you’ve been sitting here watching us, so I figured you must be drawing one of us, too.” He handed back the drawing, a bit sheepish.

“Wow. Kind of full of yourself, aren’t you?” she teased, feeling brave for a moment. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just a bunch of wildflowers.”

Libby couldn’t get over this guy sitting so close. He moved right into her space as if it was no big deal, but it was. She struggled to sit still and not stare at him as her pulse raced.

He studied her, then shook his head.

“Well, it’s not very good,” he declared, but the corner of his mouth turned up as he fought back a grin. His eyes sparkled.

“Now you’re just being mean,” she teased again, surprising herself.

She scooted a few inches away to recover from the awkwardness of being so close. Plus, this way she could sit and look straight at him. He had great eyes.

“Sorry, that’s the best I could come up with. You’re right. I was mean,” he said. “Not a good start here. Let’s begin again.” He laughed, then leaned forward and held out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Peter.”

She looked from his outstretched hand to his friendly face. Happiness wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun, and this guy, Peter, with his careless good looks and confident attitude, made her stomach flip.

“Hi, Peter. I’m Libby.”

They shook hands and smiled. His hand felt warm and strong.

“So, Libby, do you come here often?”

She rolled her eyes at the lame question. “Yeah, pretty often. Mostly on the weekends.” Every chance she got was more like it. Anything to get away from the confines of the house.

“So you must live around here.” He looked around for nearby homes.

Libby didn’t want him to notice the run-down farmhouse in the distance, so she just nodded. She didn’t associate herself with the house, its owner, or even the town.

“What’s with the über bus? You on vacation?” She twisted her pendant on its thin leather cord.

“Not really. We live in it when we’re on tour.” He raised an eyebrow, aware of her not-so-smooth change of topic.

“What do you mean ‘tour’? Like a vacation tour of the country?”

He laughed. “No, actually, we’re on tour promoting our album,
Triple Threat
,” he said with pride in his voice.

“Your family is in a band?”

“It’s not my whole family, just my two brothers and me.”

His demeanor changed, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She looked across the way to his brothers and furrowed her brow. “You are not. You’re making it up.” She could tell he was trying to impress her.

“No, really, we’ve had the band for over two years now.”

“Sure you have.” She eyed him, not believing a word. They were too young. They must all still be in high school. Plus, they looked nothing like members of a band. She didn’t know exactly what guys in a band would look like, but certainly not like these guys.

“I’m telling the truth.” He sat back and laughed again.

“So where do you play?” She pierced him with a stare. She’d catch him in his own lie. “You look too young for the bar scene. Do you play weddings?”

A coy expression covered Peter’s face. “Uh, no, nothing like that. It’s more public places.”

“Like parks or fairs?” That she might believe.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Okay, if you say so.” She shrugged. “Then you get to drive around and see lots of different places? I’d do that in an instant, if I could.” Anything to escape life here.

“The sights are great, but it can get claustrophobic with five people crammed in one giant tin can for days at a time. You’d hate it.”

“Maybe, but I’d be willing to make the sacrifice to get outta here.” A tightness in her chest occurred whenever she thought of her trapped existence.

“What’s wrong with here?” He twirled a long blade of grass between his fingers.

Where to begin? Nothing about this place fit. It was all wrong. She didn’t belong here and never would. But she wasn’t about to explain her screwed-up life to Peter. “Just . . . everything.”

“Okay, that tells me a lot.” He smiled, gazing straight into her eyes. Her stomach turned upside down. “You want to elaborate?”

“No.” She swallowed and looked away. “So what’s the name of your band?”

“You like to change the subject.” He grinned.

She noticed how his eyes sparkled each time he smiled. “So?”

“Jamieson. Our band is called Jamieson.” He watched her closely, then asked, “Ever heard of us?”

“Should I have? It doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Really?” He wore a look of disbelief. “You’ve never heard of us?”

“No, do you play around here? We have a park pavilion that has groups sometimes. Is that why you stopped in Rockville?”

“No, we haven’t played around here.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “Don’t you listen to the radio or watch TV?”

She sighed. She didn’t want him to think she was an idiot. “Of course. Mostly country music, though. I don’t recall ever hearing of a band called Jamieson.”

“We’re not country. Not even close.” He shook his head. “And TV?” he asked.

Libby shook her head no. “I don’t watch TV too often. Let’s just say I get really good grades. And I love nature. That’s why I come here so often. What’s your reason for stopping?” She could tell that now he was the one having trouble believing her story.

“Whenever we drive through Wisconsin, we stop here because my mom likes how private it is. You know how moms are. Anytime she can find a spot that’s surrounded by nature and not all highway, she puts it on the schedule.”

Libby glossed over the mom comment. She didn’t want to think of her mom. She missed her so much, her heart hurt. “You’ve been here before?”

“Quite a few times, actually.”

Of the dozens of times she’d come to Parfrey’s, she’d never seen them. How odd that today they would meet. This news warmed her insides. She wondered how many times in this last lonely year they’d just missed each other coming and going.

“Hey, Petey, who’s your girlfriend?” one of Peter’s brothers yelled as he moved toward them with a cocky walk and hooded eyes. He appeared older, a little shorter than Peter, and not nearly as good-looking. He stared at her.

“That’s Garrett,” he said under his breath. “Ignore him. He can be a jerk.”

“Lover boy, Mom said it’s time to eat.”

Libby pulled her knees in and hugged them. She couldn’t see any resemblance between Garrett and Peter.

“I’m coming.” Peter got to his feet and turned toward Libby. “I’ve gotta go, but maybe I’ll see you later.”

She smiled and nodded. She’d love to see him, more than he’d ever know.

Libby checked her watch. “Oh my God, I didn’t realize how late it’s getting. I’ve gotta go, too.” If she didn’t leave right now, she’d get the third degree. She flipped the sketch pad closed and gathered her belongings.

“Here.” Peter extended a hand to her, his face kind and close.

“Thanks.” She grasped his strong hand and stood up, relishing the touch of his skin.

“It was fun talking to you. I wish I’d bumped into you sooner,” he said.

Was he actually disappointed to see her go?

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll see you again someday.” He smiled.

“Maybe.” She couldn’t imagine it happening, but for the first time in months she felt hopeful—happy, even.

“Have fun on your tour.” She dumped the weeds and wildflowers onto the ground. “I’ve gotta go.”

She hesitated for a moment, not wanting this to end. It had been a very long time since she’d relaxed and hung out with anyone, let alone a nice guy.

“Well, bye.” She ran down the trail into the woods. Once in the thick of the trees, she turned back. Peter stood in the same spot, holding one of the wildflowers she’d left behind. He waved. She waved back, then disappeared into the woods.

Libby took the long way, so Peter wouldn’t see where she lived.

Libby braced herself as she approached the beat-up old farmhouse. It loomed forgotten on acres of rich farmland and wooded areas. Most of the land was leased to a farmer, who benefited from the fertile soil. From what she could tell, this was her aunt’s sole method of income. The rest of the property, barn, and outbuildings sat abandoned with a collection of broken-down cars littering the yard. The odor of leaking oil and rusted metal clung to the air. A vegetable garden had once flourished, but that must have been years ago.

She didn’t know why her aunt had let it all fall apart, but her parents always said Aunt Marge struggled with demons early in life and never recovered from the fight. Libby heaved a sigh and inserted her key into the lock on the paint-chipped door.