Barefoot in the Sand (41 page)

“But you hate me for other things.”

She sighed. “David, I don’t hate you at all.”

“I got in the way of you and Clay.”

“No, and neither did Ashley. I appreciate how you and Ashley want to take the blame, but there’s none to go around.” At least not with these two.

“What did the doctor tell you?” he asked.

“I haven’t seen the doctor yet, but the nurse seems to think she’ll be fine. We’ll monitor her. And she’ll have an
excuse for every C in math for the whole first semester of high school.”

He smiled, hope in his eyes. “Listen, Lacey, I have to tell you something.”

“Ashley said you’re leaving.”

He angled his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll be on a flight to Papua, New Guinea, in four hours.”

“Really? That’s so…”
Far. Soon
. “Not a surprise,” she said flatly.

“A few weeks ago I would have taken that response as hope that we could have a future.”

“We don’t. At least not like you first painted it when you got here.”

“I’m trying to tell you I owe you an apology,” David said.

She acknowledged his words with a nod. “Accepted, but I’m not going to hold this or the last fourteen years against you. Honestly.”

“What I’m sorry for is not just the last fourteen years, because I’ve told you I regret them every minute I get to know Ashley more. And the way she’s accepted me, when any other kid would resent me…” He sighed heavily. “She’s amazing.”

Lacey smiled, pride welling up in her chest. “Yes, she is, David, and I’m glad you finally know that.”

He took a step closer, his eyes moist, struggling to swallow. “What I’m sorry for is how I reacted when you told me you were pregnant.”

She didn’t respond, leaning against the sun-warmed bricks, the adrenaline and fear dumping out of her, leaving her muscles weak. Including her heart. That might be the weakest muscle of all.

Because she’d never planned to forgive David for that.
For not marrying her, for disappearing, even for showing up now and upsetting an already shaky apple cart, yes. Forgiven. But for pressing to terminate the pregnancy? That seemed unforgivable.

He searched her face as if he could read her thoughts.

“I have no excuse,” he finally said. “I mean, I was pretty young, but you were younger. I was restless and unsettled, but you hadn’t even graduated. I was scared to be a parent, and you were the one who had to carry and raise her.” His voice cracked. “Please, Lace. Forgive me.”

She managed to blink without shedding the tears that welled. “It’s history.”

His expression softened with relief. “Thank you.” He reached out for her hand, squeezing it. “Thank you.”

All she could do was nod, and wait for the pressure on her chest to ease. Surprisingly, the weight lifted quickly. Forgiveness weighed less than blame.

“You are always welcome in Ashley’s life, David,” she said.

“Good,” he replied. “Because I have an idea how I can help you.”

She frowned. “Help how?”

“I’d like to invest in your resort. No ownership, no ties. Just an investment that you can pay back when the resort starts making money.”

“I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you.”

“And, Lacey, I don’t know who has this kind of pull, but I can’t find out who bought those properties, and God knows I’ve tried to grease some palms. But eventually the identity of the buyer will be revealed and you need to buy it back. That’ll be my investment; I’ll pay for those lots no matter what they ask.”

“Oh, David, really. Thank you.” She accepted the embrace he offered, leaning on his shoulder for a moment. “Thank you.”

“And one more thing.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve been a lousy father, but you are a remarkable mother.”

“Thanks.” She leaned back to look at him. “Did Ashley tell you she said something to Clay? Something she thinks made him leave?”

“She did, but—”

“But what?”

He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I think he’ll be back.”

She cursed the hope that coiled through her. “I don’t.”

“Well, I saw the way he looked at you, Lace. And that man might not know it, but he’s in love.”

Maybe he was, but not with her. Still, when David left to say good-bye to Ashley, Lacey checked her phone messages, just in case David was right.

Nothing.

So the right guy didn’t get the girl, and neither did the wrong guy.

M
rs. Walker?”

Clay looked up when the neurologist pushed open the waiting-room doors and scanned the small group on the other side, no doubt looking for an older woman. Sorry, doc. Meet the Dysfunctionals.

Jayna stood. “I’m his wife.”

To his credit, the doctor didn’t show any reaction. “And which one of you is Clay?”

Clay lifted a hand but didn’t jump out of his seat. The doctor turned to him and gestured. “Your father would like to speak with you.”

“He can talk?” Jayna exclaimed.

“A bit. The second stroke, which wasn’t nearly as severe as the first, actually stimulated some activity and brought him out of the coma. I’m going to explain all that to you in a moment, ma’am, but your husband is
quite forceful, even after two strokes. He was adamant about talking to Clay, and I see no reason to deny him that.”

Clay finally stood. “I’ll talk to him.” Because the son of a bitch had a lot of explaining to do.

“Clay.” Darcie gave him a harsh look, fully aware of what was going on. She’d already used her laptop to confirm what Clay suspected, and they’d been hard at work trying to fix things while the docs tried to fix their father. “Be gentle.”

That earned an angry flash from the neurologist. “If you have any other intentions, son, don’t you dare go into that room.”

“I have no intentions other than to listen to what he has to say.” And get his shaky signature. But the doc didn’t need to know that.

He headed down the hall with slow, deliberate steps, not in any huge rush now that he’d gotten up here and found out what the old man was really made of. Not that he hadn’t already known, but this latest stunt?

Unbelievable.

So C-dub wanted to confess, beg forgiveness, remind Clay that everything he’d ever done was out of fatherly love and driving ambition to build a business. Blah, blah, blah.
Just sign the papers and I’m out
.

The ICU room was quiet again, the beeping machines tapping out a softer, more stable rhythm, and his father’s eyes were open. Not focused, but open.

For a moment Clay thought he might be dead. But the easy rise of his chest proved him wrong.

Clay approached the bed slowly, leaning over so C-dub could see him.

“Two strokes,” Dad said through clenched teeth, his lips not even moving.

“One more and you’re out,” Clay said gently. “So take it easy, old guy.”

Dark blue eyes shifted toward Clay, but his father’s head didn’t move. “I’m not going to die.”

“I don’t think anyone’s worried about that. Just how nasty you’re going to be when you get home is the real concern.”

“Not going to be nasty anymore.”

Clay snorted. “Then why’d you buy those two properties in Barefoot Bay?”

“I liked the land.”

What the
hell
? “That gave you the right to undermine the whole project?” Clay worked to modulate his voice and keep the nurses at bay.

“I didn’t know I was undermining you,” his father said through a stiff jaw. “My office got a call about the project and I sent someone down to look at it. Standard procedure.”

Lacey had mentioned that she’d called Walker Architecture after he’d left her on the beach the day they met. Of course that phone call would have set some exploratory wheels in process.

“The land looked good,” his father said. “And my pre-project guys said there were two lots available for purchase. I bought ’em. You know we’d never put the name of a company on a purchase like that. It’s a red flag to others.”

The angry fist in his chest loosened its grip. “You didn’t know I was involved?”

“I didn’t, Clay. But I found out later you were competing
for the project and…” He closed his eyes, a soft grunt of pain drawing Clay closer.

“And what?”

“That’s when I had that damn TIA that started all this.”

The first mini-stroke? “Never knew you to suffer from guilt pangs.”

“I was driving home to call you when it happened. I wanted to tell you, but”—a hint of a smile crossed his lips—“I got scared, Clay.”

“Scared of what?”

“I knew you’d never believe me. You’d think I was out to screw you again. You’d hate me more.”

Clay couldn’t deny that, so he just stayed silent, the sound of his father’s steady heartbeat on a monitor the only noise in the room.

“I have to tell you, son, Jayna has taught me about what it means to be a parent.”

Clay gave a dry laugh. “The irony in that statement is damn near incalculable.”

“Don’t I know it. But I’m afraid I’ll never have a chance to make it up to you,” Dad admitted on a sad sigh.

“Darcie drew up an ad hoc contract to give me the land. Sign it and we’re good.”

“I will.” He blinked back some moisture that on any other man might have been a tear. But this was C-dub, so Clay would bet it was just a bit of garden-variety watery eyes. “But, son, I don’t want to die knowing you still hate me.”

“You aren’t dying.”
God, I hope not
. “So don’t sweat it.”

“Clay, hold my hand.”

He took the old man’s hand and got a gentle squeeze.

“Only one thing matters, son.”

What? Winning the game? Having the most toys? The youngest, prettiest wife, the biggest bank account, the most famous name? He knew what mattered to C-dub, but he came closer anyway. “What’s that, Dad?”

“I love you, Clayton Walker.” A single tear rolled slowly down his father’s cheek, meandering to the side until it fell on the hospital pillow. “I love you.”

Dad’s heart monitor sped up just a little, eerily matching what was going on in Clay’s chest. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had said those words.

“Bring me those papers,” C-dub ordered. “So I can prove it to you.”

Clay stepped away, toward the door, turning before he left.
Say it, say it, say it
.

“I hope you get better, Dad.”

Dad managed to look at him. “Three little words, Clay. Can’t you say them to me?”

He tried to swallow, but something closed his throat. Those unspoken words, of course, balled up inside of him and keeping him from breathing, talking, or loving.

“Please?” The request was barely a whisper from his father’s lips, so soft he may not have wanted Clay to hear him beg.

Clay turned away. “I… can’t.”

Behind him he heard the old man sigh. A sad, resigned, pathetic sound of regret. Clay knew if he released his father, he could release himself.

And about seven hundred miles away, on an island bathed in sunshine and happiness, there was a woman who needed Clay to be free.

“Dad,” he said as he slowly turned around. “I forgive you.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

For the first time in years, they smiled at each other.

Lacey blinked through a haze of sleep, aware that everything hurt as she tried to turn in bed. No, no, she wasn’t in bed. She was on a window seat on a piece of foam rubber that doubled as a guest bed in a hospital.

The dawn’s earliest light peeked through the blinds, and with it came the harsh memory that the doctors had insisted on keeping Ashley overnight for observation.

She blinked at the sight of someone standing next to Ashley’s bed, then gasped when she realized who it was.

“Oh my God, you’re here.”

Jocelyn smiled and came around the bed to the window, holding out her hands. “Of course I’m here. I got on a red-eye when Tessa called. See? I have the red eyes to prove it.”