Читать книгу Like One of the Family - Kimberly Meter Van - Страница 12

CHAPTER FIVE

LORA©STARED©AFTER©HER©SISTER, wondering what had just happened.

First, if she could manage to get over the shock of her baby sister bawling her out when she’d never said a cross word to her in all her life, then she could focus on the bombshell Lilah had dropped as if it’d been common knowledge and not some major revelation.

Heath? What? Of course, it mattered nothing to her if Heath had once had a crush on her, but surely she would’ve noticed, right?

Lora searched her memory for evidence of this so-called fondness and something sat like a forgotten relic in the recesses of her mind. A flash of laughter echoed and the image of Heath’s twinkling eyes bounded back to her. Her heart warmed instantaneously until she remembered something else.

He’d left her when she’d needed him the most. She stiffened against the wave of pain that followed. It was the memory of her mother dying, a small girl’s heartbreak and the search in vain for the island boy whose shoulder soothed her most. It was the pain of abandonment and loss, the humiliation of being easily left behind; Lora shied away from it as if afraid of being burned.

Stop it. Stop wallowing in stupid childish thoughts that can help no one or nothing, she berated herself even as she floundered momentarily. In Chicago, she’d been able to be exactly what she chose to show people. Here, there was too much history to hide from and too many memories that followed. She’d preferred the anonymity of her windy adopted city. She’d even come to appreciate the loneliness that dogged her when she’d found herself a moment without work to fill it. Now that she’d returned home to the island, she was surrounded by everything she’d tried to run away from.

She barked a mirthless laugh tinged with embarrassment at the idea of Heath feeling anything but animosity for her because of the way she’d treated him. Lora stared at her bare toes, squirming privately at the feeling that admission caused. She hadn’t been friendly or nice to anyone, really. Lora had been hyperfocused on getting good grades so she could get into a top college and leave St. John. It wasn’t that she hated the island, but her dreams were bigger than the island could hope to sustain. She returned to the memory of doing homework—a lot—and Grams teasing her about missing out on her childhood to keep her nose in a book.

She picked at a mental image, unraveling it from her cache of treasures and exhaled softly at the wince of pain from its bittersweet sting.

“You’re such a lovely girl,” Grams had said one day, frowning, her eyes sad. “Don’t you want to go to the school dance with a nice boy?” she’d asked.

The high school had hosted a dance, something tiki-themed, of course, and Lora had been happy to miss it. The idea of mingling with the very people she sought to avoid during most days at school didn’t appeal. But Grams had been truly distressed at her choosing to remain home, which Lora had found odd. “Aren’t you glad I’m not running around giving you something to worry about?” Lora had said, hoping to coax a smile free from Grams’s worried frown. “Enjoy the calm before the storm that will be the twins when they get to high school. Trust me, at the rate they’re going through boys, they’ll have to start dating from the British side of the islands just to meet someone new.” She added with a shrug, “Besides, Grams, I don’t have a date. No one asked me.”

“How about Heath?” Grams had suggested, and now that she recalled the conversation she realized Grams had been a little quick to throw Heath’s name out there. Had she known, too?

Heath, the boy who had appeared at her family’s dinner table one night, obviously hungrier than she’d ever been in her life, the planes of his face sharp and angular from eating too little for too long, and she’d been shocked to see him after he’d virtually disappeared from her life overnight. After she’d recovered from the painful surprise, she’d pretended not to know him at all. It was easier than admitting that she’d been devastated when he’d disappeared. She’d had enough people abandon her in life; she didn’t need another.

And if she’d noticed the furtive glances her way, she didn’t acknowledge them. She supposed he had tried to make a few attempts at explaining his disappearing act but by that point, Lora had sealed her heart tight and wouldn’t listen.

If she’d been nothing but cold and dismissive, the twins, on the other hand, had been delighted.

“Can we keep him?” Lindy had asked, passing the fresh papaya with a grin. When Lora had gasped that her sister had even suggested such a thing, Lilah had simply chimed in.

“I’ve always wanted a brother,” Lilah had said in her soft, wistful voice that always managed to make it sound as if she were somewhere else in her head and not planted in the here and now like everyone else. “He seems like he’d be a very good brother.”

Grams and Pops had been vastly amused by the conversation while Lora had plainly been the opposite. Now that she remembered that day, she wondered how Heath had felt about being inducted into a family without so much as a voice in the matter.

She supposed he hadn’t minded—he was still hanging around.

Lora exhaled loudly and climbed to her feet, needing to clear her head. There was too much clanging around in her mind, too many variables to consider. The best course of action would require concise thinking.

Larimar was in serious trouble. And by Lora’s way of thinking, Heath was partially to blame. If he hadn’t talked Pops into that business deal, at the very least the money would be there so she could straighten out this misunderstanding with the IRS. But the reserve was terribly low—barely enough to cover a plumbing issue if the need arose—and that made her alternately nervous and angry.

Well, anger was something she was familiar with and even if she wasn’t proud that she’d been perpetually accused of shouldering a chip her entire life, at least she knew how to handle herself.

She didn’t have enough in her own personal accounts to pay off the debt and if Heath had the money, she was fairly certain he would’ve paid the debt by now. At the very least, to her knowledge, he wasn’t one to shirk his debts.

And, whether she liked it or not, Heath truly loved her family and they loved him.

So that left one option—an option she wasn’t comfortable with, but when backed into a corner one could either spit and scratch or surrender quietly to fight another day.

Lora flopped on her childhood bed, the scent of summer and sun surrounding her, and stared at the ceiling.

“Damn it,” she murmured, a well of frustration laced with something else. She’d have to put aside her grievances with Heath and work with him to fix this problem. However, as soon as Larimar was in the clear, she would be having a serious discussion with him about moving his business out of Larimar. If he wanted to be a businessman, he could peddle his goods elsewhere. She wasn’t interested in his success or failure—only that of Larimar.

Tomorrow she’d call a meeting with Heath and try to work out a solution together. A small, reluctant grin found her lips as she chuckled without humor. Grams was probably watching from her beach in heaven—giggling.

The mad woman had always enjoyed stirring things up.

* * *

HEATH©DOVE©ONE©LAST©TIME under the dusky waves as the sun crested the horizon, bathing the beach in soft amber-yellow light. He always swam with the morning light, enjoying the way the water muted the early chorus of bugs and birds welcoming the day with a cacophony of noise. The brief moment of stillness soothed his turbulent thoughts and he welcomed the respite.

He was a ways from the shore. Flipping on his back, he floated, gazing at the breaking dawn sky, loving his slice of heaven no matter how difficult it seemed to make a living. If it weren’t for tourists and the internet…he’d be screwed.

Sighing, he turned and made a slow, almost reluctant return to the beach, only to find Lora walking the shore, her white gauzy sarong swaying with the movement of her hips. She walked head down, gazing at her feet in the soft sugar-white sand as the water reached for her with each tidal surge. Her hair drifted down her back, rippling in lazy waves, the humidity curling her hair with wild abandon. Something in him clenched, twisting him in knots, a remnant from the time when he was a poor, neglected island boy with nothing to his name and even less to aspire to as both his parents had run off, leaving him to fend for himself at the age of ten.

What was it about Lora that made him want what she’d never offered? He’d been a fool then, but he wasn’t the same love-struck boy now. Today he saw her for what she was, a beautiful woman with ice in her veins.

“I brought this for you,” a voice whispered from his past, the hushed voice of a young Lora as she handed him a basket of fresh fruit and beef pâté. “The pâté is fresh. Pops bought it from Simon today.”

The sharp hunger cramping his belly roared like an angry beast at the sight of the basket and the knowledge that food was inside. He took the basket, not sure why she was being so nice. He’d seen her around the island in the square; she was hard to miss with that dark hair and exotic features, and he’d followed her home, curious to see where such a beautiful girl lived. Lora must’ve seen him creeping along the fringe of the private beach, but worse, she must’ve guessed the hollows in his cheeks weren’t natural. He’d like to say he accepted the basket with some sort of grace, but as he flushed with the memory, he remembered how it’d happened.

He’d torn into the basket and eaten the entire pâté before Lora’s astonished eyes with great gobbling bites, stuffing his mouth until he thought he might choke but he hadn’t eaten anything aside from what he could scrounge from the restaurant scraps for the past month. He might’ve been two steps away from death, if it hadn’t been for Lora’s basket.

And then, clutching the basket to his chest, he’d run away.

He’d come back the following day, seeing her at the marketplace buying fresh fruit. She’d caught sight of him and waved him over. He’d shyly thanked her for the food, but stopped short of telling her just how bad things were for him. She seemed to understand that he was holding something back and must’ve known what it was like to need to keep some things private, because she didn’t mention it again. In no time, they’d become fast friends. He’d meet her in the plaza and they’d spend the day romping around, swimming, fishing, sharing smoothies.

Until the day came when he’d come home and discovered his parents had truly taken off for good this time. He’d been terrified. So he’d tried to follow. With disastrous results.

It would be a year before he saw her again when Pops brought him to the resort on the guise of needing a young strapping boy to do the heavy lifting for him in the form of odd jobs.

That’d been the year Pops had unofficially adopted him.

Lora hadn’t been happy. In fact, she was so cold and closed off, he almost wondered if she remembered that he was the same boy that she’d saved from starving only a year prior. She’d rebuffed any attempt he’d made to explain, sending the message quite clearly that whatever they’d had before he left, hadn’t survived the absence. Which, honestly, if he hadn’t developed feelings for her, would’ve been fine. But that’s not how it had turned out. He’d been doomed to fall for Lora Bell because fate had decided his life hadn’t been filled with enough turmoil.

Man, when he thought of how many nights he’d stayed awake thinking about Lora…good God. It made him sick to think of all that wasted time.

Shaking off the memory with effort, he exhaled and walked from the water, startling Lora with his appearance, as he headed for the towel he’d hung on a tree. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as an involuntary, gasped squeak gave away her distress.

Probably because he was nude.

* * *

“WHAT©ARE©YOU©DOING?” Lora managed to blurt out, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing she could scrub her brain but it was no use, nothing would erase what she’d seen—Heath in all his morning glory—and she was fairly certain she was scarred for life. A growing heat in the center of her belly caused her to squirm as disquiet at her own reaction made her want to run away. But she couldn’t very well turn tail and run like a scared little rabbit just because she’d happened to catch Heath in his birthday suit. His wasn’t the first penis she’d ever seen, for crying out loud. But… she thought miserably, clenching her fists at her sides, she’d be a liar if she’d said she’d seen a larger one. Admitting such a thing made her want to grind her eyes out—and her brain—for even allowing the unfortunate observation. “This is a private beach…with guests. Please put some clothes on!”