Unforgettable (29 page)

“You’re a wonderful person. I’ve been with you long enough to know.”

Greg lifted one hand and cupped her chin. Lucky kissed his palm, savoring the warmth and strength of his hand. She only wished she were worthy of him. But she’d done the unthinkable. She’d deserted her child.

Guilt, along with a desperate desire to make things right for her daughter, to be a better mother this time, surged through Lucky. It gave her the strength she needed.

“
No, Greg. I was a selfish person. I went off to find myself and left a husband and daughter behind. I’m sure there’s so much more that I don’t know. Julie couldn’t fall asleep in a strange place, so she came out and interrupted us before Brad told me everything.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“That’s because you love me.”

“You’re damn right I love you.”

In his eyes she saw all the love any woman could ever want. An undying love she didn’t deserve. “I love you, too. You know that.”

“But you’re going to leave me.”

“I wish things were different, darling. Every child needs a mother. I have to at least try—for Julie’s sake.”

Lucky stared into those marine-blue eyes that were so like the sea he loved, compelling and constantly changing. His dark brows furrowed above them, the way they always did when he concentrated. His black hair fell across his brow and lifted slightly in the light breeze, just the way it had the first time she saw him.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Lucky wished that God had granted her a longer stay. She thought back over the weeks. Across every memory was the image of one man. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. Things she’d intended to share but had put off until tomorrow. Now she was out of time. For them, there would be no more tomorrows.

“How am I going to get along without you?” Greg asked.

She opened her eyes, then replied, “You’re the strongest man I know. You’ll get over me.”

He rested his temple against hers. “No, I won’t. Not ever.”

“Please help me.
I
can’t be strong for both of us. You know I have to go.”

He pulled away, rocking back on his heels. For a moment he stared at the crescent moon riding low over Haleakala.

“I’m afraid,” she confided. “I’m going into a whole new world again. Without you, without your strength. I don’t want to fail Julie, but I’m afraid I will somehow.”

He put his arms around her again, his lips very close to hers. “You won’t, angel. I wish you would, so I could have you back. But I know you—the person you are now. You had the courage to get in the pool to save a killer shark. You persuaded Abbie to eat. Yo
u’ll do just fine with Julie…
and her father.” His words were reassuring, spoken quietly in a voice steeped with love. Lucky put her head against the solid wall of his chest, wanting to hear the steady beat of his heart one last time.
Thunk-thunk. Thunk-thunk.
Oh, how comforting the sound had been on the motorcycle ride that first day. And in the middle
of the night when she’d awaken. She would slide over and put her head on his chest. This was the last time she would listen to the heart that loved her.

“Lucky,” he whispered, and she could tell he was on the verge of tears, “if it doesn’t work out for any reason, I’m here. Don’t even think twice. Just come home.” His voice broke. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” She pulled back, knowing that if she didn’t leave right then she would never be able to go. “It’s time. I can’t miss the plane.”

“Kiss me goodbye.” He bent down, brushing his lips against hers as his hands roamed across her back, down her waist, then dropped to her bottom, as if he were saying farewell to every inch of her body. She clung to him, her tongue mating with his one last time, knowing that this would be their final kiss.

Somehow, Lucky found the strength to pull away. She turned and ran toward the terminal, swiping at the tears with the back of her hand. She didn’t look back. She knew that in the darkness stood a man and a dog. Watching her. Loving her.

29

A
fter the short flight to Honolulu, a chauffeur-driven limousine met them at the curb. It was a long, glistening white limo that Lucky associated with the luxury hotels on Maui. Remembering Sarah and her brood in a minivan, it seemed inconceivable that a family of three needed such a big car.

“You’re going to have to help me relearn things,” she whispered to Brad once they were inside, with Julie sleeping in her father’s arms.

“Of course. We’ll take it one step at a time.” His eyes were gentle and understanding.

Part of her wished he was a brute—someone she could hate. But he wasn’t. If he’d noticed her teary eyes at the airport, he’d been sensitive enough not to mention it. Julie had fallen asleep on the plane, giving her the opportunity to explain about Hoyt-Mellenberger syndrome. She’d found Brad Wagner sympathetic and a good listener.

“This
looks… f
amiliar,” she said. A tiara of lights glittered along a golden shore. “There’s a mountain like Haleakala nearby, isn’t there?”

Brad smiled indulgently. “Yes, beyond the hotel strip along Waikiki Beach is Diamond Head. It’s not as tall as Haleakala. It’s shaped like the prow of a battleship.”

So familiar. Unlike Maui, Honolulu was a place she knew. If she let her brain go into its automatic pilot mode, she could find her way around. The thought comforted her, and she realized that her own home would be familiar, too. At least, on this level, the situation wasn’t as intimidating as she’d anticipated.

The limo entered a residential neighborhood with enormous houses showcased by the artsy kind of lighting she’d seen at Maui’s posh hotels. Most homes were behind ornate gates, but as they passed, Lucky glimpsed lushly planted grounds. Many of the houses had unusual blue tile roofs that gleamed in the moonlight.

The limo paused outside a set of wrought iron gates flanked by royal palms. The driver, whose name was Raul, pulled out a small box and clicked it. The gates swung open and they drove into a stunning cobblestone courtyard with a big lion spouting water from its mouth into a pool at its feet. Lights, strategically placed to create a dramatic effect, spotlighted the fountain and the rough trunks of pygmy palms with bright crimson flowers at their bases.

She sensed Brad gazing at her expectantly. “It’s lovely.”

A uniformed maid greeted them while the chauffeur took Brad’s bag. Lucky had taken nothing but her purse when she left Maui. Walking through the towering doors, she entered a dramatic marble foyer. Beyond was an enormous living room with high vaulted ceilings and wide-open terra-cotta walls, extending the living area outdoors to a beautiful lanai with a spectacular pool that resembled a mountain lagoon.

“Where are the windows?” she asked.

“The glass slides into the walls. We leave it inside unless there’s a storm.”

“Mommy?” Julie woke up, looking at Lucky from her father’s arms.

“I’m right here, sweetie.” She reached for her daughter, and
the child came eagerly into her arms. Lucky’s heart swelled with tenderness.

“Let’s get her into bed.” Brad led them to a sweeping staircase that spiraled up to the second floor.

“Everything is black or white,” Lucky commented, thinking out loud.

“It was your choice,” Brad said, with a trace of bitterness in his voice. “This house was your dream. You worked with the decorator. I was too busy.”

Sheesh! She didn’t really care for so much black and white. Everything about this place expressed luxury and wealth beyond comprehension. Lucky couldn’t imagine living here. No wonder Brad seemed to resent her choice of decor.

The maid appeared in a doorway with pink bunny pajamas in her hand. She reached for Julie, but Lucky wanted to put her daughter to bed.

Brad watched her struggle to get Julie out of her sundress and into the jammies with the bunnies on the feet. “You never help Julie dress. That’s what we have a maid for.”

"I’m different now. I want to spend time with my daughter. She kissed the child’s soft cheek.

“Mommy, would you tell me a story?”

By the tentative sound of Julie’s voice, Lucky knew she hadn’t taken the time to tuck her daughter in and read to her. “Sure, but first let’s say our prayers.”

“Prayers?” Julie repeated, as if it were a foreign word. Lucky hesitated, remembering Sarah praying with her children. Well, maybe the awful mother she’d been didn’t know enough to pray. “Put your hands together like this.” She watched as Julie’s little hands came together. “Then bow your head and tell God what you’re thankful for. I’ll do it tonight, and tomorrow night it’ll be your turn.

“Most Holy Father, thank you for bringing our family together again. Bless us and guide us and give us the strength to build a life together.” She suddenly remembered her promise
to Abbie. “And Father, could you please watch over little Abbie?” Silently, she added a prayer for Greg. “Amen.” Lucky looked up and caught Brad’s eye. Apparently, the last thing he’d expected was to see her praying.

“Who is Abbie?” Julie wanted to know.

Lucky briefly explained, then said,
“
Now let me tell you a bedtime story about Rudy—the wonder shark.”

“No, Cinderella.
I
want
Cinderella.”

“Mommy doesn’t know that story,” she acknowledged, and Julie gawked at her, amazed. The child stuck her thumb in her mouth and listened to Rudy’s story. They hadn’t even gotten to the part about reattaching the fins when Lucky realized her daughter was asleep.

She and Brad tiptoed out of the room and down the hall. Oh, God, where were they going? Did they share a room? So much had gone on tonight that she hadn’t anticipated this problem. Please, no. I can’t. Not ever.

Lucky reached into her pocket to touch Rudy’s tooth. It wasn’t there! She must have left it on the
Atlantis.
Calm down, she told herself. You’re not out of luck. Everything’s okay.

“This is your room, Kelly.” Two beats of awkward silence. “I’m down the hall if you need me.”

She hesitated a second, then decided to go with her instincts. “I don’t want to be Kelly. She wasn’t a nice person. Do you think you could call me Lucky?”

“I suppose.” He sounded uncertain but he smiled.

The maid came out of her room. “I’ve turned down your bed, madam. There are vases of fresh flowers where you like them. Will there be anything else?”

Lucky shook her head, then waited until the maid walked away. “I don’t think I’ll get much sleep tonight. Is there a photograph album of my family I could look at?” she asked. “Tomorrow you could tell me about them.”

“There are pictures of you and Julie in an album downstairs,” Brad said. “I’ll bring it up. But there aren’t any pictures of your family that I know of.”

“Are my parents or grandparents alive?”

Brad shook his head. “No. Your parents were divorced and you lost track of your father’s side of the family. Your mother died before you moved here. I think you have distant cousins in Iowa, but I’m not sure.”

Brad left to get the album and Lucky stood there, staring at the long corridor.
I once was lost but now I’m found.
How wrong she’d been. She was more lost than ever now. A strange house. A strange man. No relatives to tell her about her past.

Disheartened, Lucky walked into the bedroom, which turned out to be a suite. The room was a study in white silks, some of the textures as smooth as the white marble floor beneath her feet. The other fabrics were nubby raw silks. It was stunning in a dramatic, high-fashioned way that made her feel uncomfortable.

In the black marble bathroom she discovered a sunken tub the size of one of the seal’s pools. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirrored wall. Dusky brown curls with dark roots haloed a slightly sunburned face. She still wore the khaki shorts and “Save the Whales” T-shirt that she’d put on before dawn.

Worse than something the cat dragged in.
That’s what Sarah said about her boys after they played soccer. Well, that’s what she looked like now. “You don’t belong in this palace.”

“Get used to it,” her reflection replied. “This is your life. Your daughter is sleeping down the hall. You promised never to leave her.”

Lucky found a closet the size of Greg’s home. It was filled with double-tiered rows of blouses and skirts. Behind glass doors were racks of shoes. A special case held floor-length gowns by the dozen. She stood in the center of the room, awed and baffled. Who needed so many clothes? And why were the price tags still on most of them?

“Here’s the album,” Brad said, startling her.

Lucky turned and saw that he’d come up behind her. In his hand was a black silk album with a gold
W
on the cover. She
took it from him and asked, “Why are most of these clothes new?”

“You love to shop,” Brad replied without hesitating. “You spend most of your day shopping or going to the beauty parlor or working out with your personal trainer.”

For a moment she was speechless, then she remembered the woman in the mirror. She had yelled at her daughter for no reason. Why was it surprising that she had led a decadent life? “Those days are over. I’m going to—” She stopped abruptly. “What am I going to do?”

He smiled the indulgent smile that was so familiar. “It’s late. Let’s deal with it in the morning.”

Brad left, and Lucky took the album and sat on the chaise in her bathroom. The pictures chronicled her daughter’s life from birth to a preschool photo taken recently. Again Lucky was saddened by all she’d missed, the precious milestones in her daughter’s early life.

The pictures of herself were startling. Yes, it was the woman in the mirror, except her hair wasn’t blonde. It was shoulder length and ruler straight. Why would she bleach and perm such lovely hair?

There was a certain edge to the person she had once been. It was reflected in every shot, even in the picture taken at the hospital with her newborn daughter. She radiated vanity and self-absorption in a subtle way. Lucky knew men must have considered her beautiful. She had the same dramatic quality that this house had. A larger-than-life, unattainable aloofness. It reminded her of the trophy wife that Sarah had once pointed out.

She snapped the album shut, ashamed and disgusted. How had she become the woman in the mirror? Tomorrow she’d ask Brad more about her past. There had to be something she was missing.

Lucky padded barefoot across the cool marble floor and out onto the balcony. Below were the lushly landscaped grounds
and beyond them a crescent-shaped beach, its sand glowing like a pearl in the moonlight.

Gazing up at the sliver of a moon, she remembered its light etching the masculine planes of Greg’s face as they’d shared their last kiss. He was so near, less than a half hour away. What was he doing right now? Did he miss her? Was he able to sleep?

Her eyes on the star-filled sky, Lucky recalled the moonlit nights she’d shared with Greg. So much love. So little time together. Every moment had been special. At least she had those memories to give her strength and courage.

She imagined Greg standing in the dark parking lot the last time she had seen him. Oh, Lord. She couldn’t imagine what life had in store for her
…
a life without Greg.

“Good night, my darling. I love you with all my heart.”

T
he first smudges of a crimson dawn stole over the horizon, firing the gray underbellies of the rain-swollen clouds with amber light. Greg knew this was just the harbinger of yet another tropical storm. It would blow over the island, vanishing before most tourists hit the beach.

Lucky had left over twelve hours ago, but he hadn’t gone home. Why should he? The empty house was a specter, an echo of the past. A reminder of what they’d shared, what he’d hoped was their future.

Stealthy fingers of golden sunlight filtered through the palm fronds at the institute, the branches fluttering in the dawn breeze as Greg went into the nursery. Nomo had spent the night there, coaxing little Abbie to eat. His attempts had been futile, however. From the moment Lucky had left the pup’s spirit vanished, and the seal refused to eat.

“We’re going to lose her,” Nomo said.

“Put her down and let her sleep. Maybe you’ll have better luck later.”

Abbie was too big now for the makeshift crib, so Nomo put
her on the concrete floor. Dodger, who had been at Greg’s heels, trotted over to the pup and nuzzled her. Abbie emitted an exhausted mew that reminded Greg of the contented sound the pup had made against Lucky’s breast. Abbie curled into a fetal position, her tiny flippers fanning out in front of her as if she were praying. In one fluid motion, Dodger sank to the floor and lay down, surrounding the pup with his slim body.

At least they have each other, Greg thought. Dodger had spent the hours since Lucky had left waiting by the door. Expecting her to return.

“I’m going to put a bottle between Dodger’s legs,” Nomo said. “Maybe Abbie will take it.”

“It’s worth a try,” Greg agreed, but he doubted it would work. Monk seals were notorious for refusing to nurse when their mothers died. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”