Читать книгу Safe Harbour - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 14

CHAPTER FIVE

“ALEX WILL TAKE one refrigerator, to go,” Stevi announced as she walked into the kitchen. Her sister had her back to her and was busy preparing an order on the industrial stove. “Seriously, Alex thinks she’s eating for a small village and wants, like, one of practically everything on the breakfast menu. And Andy will have her usual two slices of warm bread, a cup of albino, supersweet coffee and three slices of burnt bacon.”

“And you?” Cris asked, glancing up from the omelet she was preparing for one of the guests.

“The run made me kind of hungry this morning. Could you fix me an order of pancakes and some scrambled eggs with ham?” she asked.

Ordinarily, she ate a light breakfast, sometimes even leaving half on her plate. She slanted a glance toward Cris, hoping her request wouldn’t set off any alarms.

The change didn’t go unnoticed. “Wow, that is a lot for you,” Cris commented.

Stevi shrugged. “Yes, I know. Must be all that great sea air.”

“The air’s been there all along, Stevi,” Cris pointed out.

“I’ve got it, boss,” Jorge, Cris’s chief assistant, called out. He nodded toward Stevi.

“Thanks.” Cris flashed him a grateful, weary smile.

“No problem,” Jorge responded. “You just take it easy, boss. You’re working too hard, as usual.”

So preoccupied with getting back to her bedroom as quickly as possible, Stevi hadn’t really been paying attention to much else. But Jorge’s comment about Cris working too hard made her take a closer look at Cris. It occurred to her that her older sister was looking rather pale.

She automatically reached out to put her hand against Cris’s forehead. Cris pulled her head back.

“What are you doing?”

“Just wanted to see if you had a fever,” Stevi explained, dropping her hand. “You look a little peaked.”

“No fever,” Cris answered dismissively.

It wasn’t like Cris to be so curt. Something was up, Stevi thought. “You coming down with something?”

Cris laughed softly. “No, I’m fine.”

Now her curiosity was fully aroused. “Don’t lie to the woman who pulled a rabbit out of the hat and piggybacked a real wedding for you on to Alex’s when you realized how much you’d missed, practically eloping on the run. You owe me.”

She was practically daring Cris to argue the point. No one ever won an argument with her, unless, occasionally, it was Alex.

“I’m not lying,” Cris protested. “I’m not coming down with anything, not in the traditional sense.”

Stevi’s curiosity went up another notch. “Okay, how about in the nontraditional sense?” Stevi pressed. Interrupting herself for a second, she looked toward Jorge and made a request. “Could you make that to go, please, Jorge?”

Jorge nodded.

“You’re taking breakfast to go?” Cris asked. “What’s the matter, you suddenly don’t like my dining room?”

“It’s not that,” she protested, noting that somehow, Cris’s domain had spread from the kitchen to the dining area, as well. “I’ve got a few things to do in my room, wise guy, so I thought I’d eat and work at the same time. And don’t think you’re changing the subject that easily.”

“There is no subject to change,” Cris said, turning back to flip the omelet.

Stevi shifted so that she was able to at least see Cris’s profile. “We have a slight difference of opinion there.”

“I’m fine,” Cris insisted once again. “Just a little woozy, maybe.”

If Cris admitted to being dizzy, then there was more she wasn’t saying.

“Cris, Jorge can take over. Heck, even I can do some cooking in an emergency—”

“The emergency would be after you started cooking,” Cris interjected.

Stevi ignored the comment. “There’s no shame if you take a sick day once in a while. Nobody expects you to be invincible. If you caught a bug, then—”

“It’s not a bug,” Cris protested, losing her patience. “It’s a baby.”

Stevi’s jaw dropped open. “Whoa. Back up. You caught a baby?”

Cris sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to come out like this.... But it was bound to come out sometime. Yes, in a manner of speaking, I guess.”

Stevi’s eyes widened even more. “Then you’re—”

Closing her eyes, Cris nodded. “Yes, I am,” she said.

Jorge was grinning ear to ear. “Congratulations, boss.”

Cris inclined her head, uttering a modest, “Thank you.”

The surge of pure joy was a beat late, but when it came, it all but exploded within her. “Cris, why didn’t you say anything?” Stevi threw her arms around her sister, hugging her hard. “That’s wonderful! Why are you keeping it such a secret?” Granted Cris was one of the more quiet of the Roman daughters, but when she discovered she was pregnant with Ricky, everyone in the family knew within about twenty-four hours.

“I didn’t want to steal any of Alex’s thunder,” she confided. “I’ve already had one baby. This is Alex’s first.”

That was not a valid reason as far as Stevi was concerned. “Alex can deal with sharing the spotlight, she’s not a narcissist. And it’s not like you could’ve kept this a secret forever, you know. Eventually, we would have figured it out. So, does anyone else know?”

Cris inclined her head. “Shane.”

“Well, of course! What about Ricky?”

“I would have loved to have included him in this, but if he knew, then the immediate world would have known, as well.”

Stevi laughed in agreement.

“There’s no such thing as keeping a secret as far as my boy is concerned—especially if it was labeled a secret. The information would have burst out of him the very first opportunity he had. Prefaced with ‘Mommy doesn’t want anyone to know, but—’”

“Well, always a good thing to let the father know anyway,” Stevi said, patting Cris’s hand.

“Your breakfast, Miss Stevi,” Jorge said, placing a large brown bag on the steel counter next to her.

“Thank you.” She flashed the assistant a quick smile.

“Please don’t tell everyone,” Cris begged her.

“Of course not! I think that kind of information should come from you.” She rolled her eyes. “But make sure you call Dad in and tell him first. He’ll appreciate being told before the others.”

Cris smiled as she placed her hand on her still very flat stomach. “I guess you’re right—for a change.”

That was the nature of their relationship. Nothing serious could be left alone for long. There was always a bite of sarcasm, a zinger attached somewhere. The Roman sisters were determined not to get mushy on one another.

“Can you get Dad for me, Stevi?” Cris requested. “Ask him to come to the dining area?”

Any other time...but she was acutely aware of the time and she had left her mystery man alone in her room for far too long. What if he had awakened while she was gone? What if he had wandered off? She couldn’t have that. Not until she got their stories straight. Otherwise, she would be on the receiving end of a lifetime of lectures from not just her father, but everyone else in the family, as well.

“I’d really love to, Cris, but there’s something important I have to get to.” She looked at Jorge. “Jorge, can you get my father down here, please? There,” she told Cris. “All done. Gotta fly.” She grabbed the large brown bag Jorge had brought her and left the kitchen through the back delivery entrance.

She left a bemused Cris staring after her in her wake.

Stevi circumvented the veranda at the back of the inn and made her way to the same side entrance she and Silvio had used earlier. Again, this was the long way around but if she’d gone out through the dining area, Alex and Andy would have grilled her.

The way she saw it, it was better to avoid questions altogether until she had some viable answers.

As she skirted the grounds, her thoughts went back to what she’d just discovered. Cris was going to have another baby. That made two babies being born in the not-too-distant future. Life was moving right along for Alex and Cris, she thought with a touch of envy. They each had a great husband and now they were busy creating their own families.

And where did that leave her?

Confused and restless, that’s where, she thought.

Not just that, but with an unidentified man lying in her bed, unconscious to boot.

Life had certainly gone from dull to extremely tangled in a few short hours, Stevi thought as she reached her door.

It was still closed, she noted. Either the stranger was still inside—or he had made an orderly escape, closing the door behind him after he departed.

Holding her breath, Stevi tested it: still locked. Turning the key, she eased the door open.

Her mystery man was just where she had left him, sleeping in bed. Coming a step closer, she never took her eyes off the man. Just as on the beach, he didn’t look as if he’d even moved a muscle since she had left.

She set the bag of food down on the writing desk in the corner, then quietly crept over to the bed.

She studied the man for a long moment. “Are you getting better, or worse?” she wondered out loud. “Am I helping you by keeping you hidden here, or am I destroying any chance you might have to get well? I wish I had a little guidance here,” she admitted. “There’s nothing on the internet to cover this situation. Can’t type in ‘What to do with an unknown, unconscious man encountered on the beach’ and have Ask.com come up with an answer.”

She had hoped that he might be up by now and able to eat, at least a little. He needed to build up his strength after all that blood he lost. When she’d picked up the two orders, she’d wanted to give him first choice of breakfast.

But since it appeared he was going to be out for a while, she decided to eat one and leave the other covered plate for him.

Choosing the eggs and ham, she brought the plate to his bed and sat in the chair she’d pulled over earlier. She took a bite absently and her taste buds almost sprang to life. She’d forgotten that it was impossible to eat anything that Cris prepared absently. It was a gift, she decided.

“You’re missing a really good breakfast,” she told her sleeping mystery man. “But, knowing Cris, she’d be happy to whip up another order if you like scrambled eggs.” Her words came back to her and Stevi laughed shortly. “Here I am, second-guessing what you like to eat and I don’t even know your name, or who you are, or what you’re actually doing here on our beach.”

There had been no wallet, no driver’s license, no ID of any kind on his person. Silvio had gone through his pockets the moment he had the man on the bed. It had made Silvio more suspicious.

“So who are you?” Stevi asked. “What do I call you? Are you with some drug cartel and you got caught in the middle of something really bad? Bad enough to bring out guns?

“Or are you some wealthy playboy whose cabin cruiser got boarded by pirates? Right...there aren’t any pirates trolling the coast of Southern California,” she reminded herself. “You know, I’m really running out of guesses here. You’d better come to soon and help me out or Silvio will insist that we call the hospital and they’ll take one look at you and call the police...and I have this gut feeling that won’t be a good thing to do. Am I right?”

He went on sleeping.

Finished with breakfast—which she had wolfed down in between questions—she set the plate aside on her writing desk. Leaning forward, she pushed aside a lock of medium brown hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Who are you?” Stevi whispered. “Are you ever going to wake up and tell me?”

She supposed the real question here should be, was he ever going to wake up, period? What if he had slipped into an actual coma? She didn’t know much about things like that but she’d heard that those kinds of conditions could go on indefinitely.

Maybe forever.

Then what?

Then she’d tell her father everything and ask for his help. Get professional medical care.

She knew that even though Richard Roman might get annoyed with her for having done something that she was certain he would label “dangerous and foolish,” he wouldn’t waste time with recriminations. He’d just handle it, the way he handled everything else that came his way.

To her, her father was one of the dependable forces of nature. A great comfort to her.

But for the time being, Stevi needed to prove herself—not in anyone else’s eyes but her own.

She looked up to her two older sisters, Alex and Cris. Their lives were basically set, their paths more or less chosen and mapped out, while hers felt as if it was scattered all over the place and right smack in the middle of it was this slanted incline, perfect for skateboarding. And right now, she was going down it, ninety-seven miles an hour.

Could she execute the move, or was she going to crash and burn?

She had no idea.

“You’re going to have to hurry up, you know,” she told him. “I can only hold everyone off for so long. Right now, I can tell them that I’m working on a painting and that I don’t want to be disturbed. They’ll buy that. The family’s usually pretty good about that sort of thing,” she confided. “They give me my space, which in this case is actually your space. But sometime or other, they’re going to want to see a painting, so pull your act together and come around. In the next twenty-four hours, please.” Then she added, “Even faster would be nice.”

Boy, that had to have sounded weird to him if he could hear her.

“I don’t mean to rush you but hiding you in my room and not telling Dad or any of them about this is making things difficult for me. I’m not much on keeping secrets, if you must know, so the sooner you can open those eyes of yours, the better it’ll be for both of us.”

Picking up the coffee Jorge had slipped in the bag, she took off the lid. She sat sipping and staring thoughtfully at the unconscious man.

Her brain was going in three directions at once, all at top speed, coming up with different theories, each more fantastic than the last.

“Maybe you’re a spy. Or a secret agent.” Her words echoed back in her head and she stared at him even more intently, as if that would give her some sort of an answer. “Omigod, could I be sent to prison for harboring you? Worse, could my family get into trouble for this?” The thought of getting her family into trouble over something she was doing horrified her. “Maybe I’d better call the police,” she said, automatically reaching for the phone that was on the nightstand by her bed.

But then she stopped midreach. That same gut told her the details about this situation would eventually be brought to light and that she wouldn’t be found guilty of doing anything except saving a man from bleeding to death.

Maybe a man who mattered in the corporate world. Or the political arena. Someone important.

“Are you someone important?” she whispered, staring at him. He didn’t look familiar to her, but then, that didn’t mean anything. She wasn’t exactly up on news other than the headlines.

Stevi sighed, frustrated and helpless. She was the type who read the end of a mystery thriller before she invested herself in reading it at all. This situation was already dragging on too long for her liking.

You wanted an adventure, something to happen out of the ordinary, something exciting. Remember?

She pressed her lips together. Careful what you wish for, right?

He didn’t stir.

“Just hurry up and come to, okay?” And then she laughed to herself. “I’ve heard about the strong, silent type, but this is really raising the bar pretty high.”

She grinned then drained the remainder of her coffee and set the cup down again. “I bet they called you gabby at school.”

The man made no answer.

* * *

HE WAS HEARING it again, hearing that voice, that soft female voice whispering through his mind, teasing his subconscious as he tried to place it, tried to remember if he’d ever heard it before.

The words she was saying were becoming more distinct, more audible. He could almost make them out.

Almost.

But they still seemed garbled.

Try as he might, he couldn’t fight his way to the surface either, up above this oppressive hazy cloud that enshrouded him and was keeping him down.