“Easier to float in salt water,” he said, “but this is a heck of a lot safer. Nothing to get cut on, no storms, no sharks, no bombs.” He was kidding about not taking risks, since he still dived with her on jobs from time to time, even sometimes with the new guy they’d hired.
She pressed herself against him with her arms around his neck, and he clamped her even harder to him. They always melded perfectly, chest to breasts, hips, thighs, though her feet dangled partway up his calves. He slid his hand along her sleek, arched back and pushed her bikini bottom down to cup her with both hands.
“We’ve got a while before Ben and Amelia and the boys show up,” he told her, his voice a delicious whisper.
“Mmm. But we’ve got to finish dinner and put up the Congrats On Your Reelection sign for Ben.”
The election had been three days ago. Marla Sherborne had won back her senate seat by a landslide. Josh had withdrawn from the election. His party had put someone else up to oppose her, but to no avail. Ben had said Josh had turned down an offer to write his story and was starting up a cachaça business to produce bottles of caipirinha for a cane company that was in competition with Grand Sugar. Josh had also started divorce proceedings against Nikki, who was awaiting trial in the Collier County jail along with Ric—and Verdugo, for human trafficking. His desire to bring gambling to Southwest Florida had gone down with him.
“Oh, yeah,” Cole said, playing her game as he unhooked her bikini bra. “We’ve got to set up the snorkeling game for the kids. And wash our hair…”
Bree laughed as they came together. Cole swore when the doorbell rang. “Why is Amelia always early?” he muttered. They both knew if they didn’t get out of the pool now, James and Jordan would run around to the back of the villa and look in through the netted cage around the pool. “Batten down the hatches, matey, ’cause the kids are here. Just when I thought I’d make a kid of my own.”
“At least you’re not sleeping on the sofa anymore,” she told him, trying to sound normal as she looked for her bikini bottom and bra in the water. Every time Cole DeRoca looked at her that way, touched her, it was as wild as a lightning strike. After being in the water during the distant bomb blast, her hearing and her sight seemed to have returned to normal, but nothing was ever normal with Cole in her life. She would always miss Daria, but her husband completed her, even as her twin sister could not.
Cole threw on a robe and left her scrambling to get back into her suit while he answered the door. He loved the boys and they him. Amelia had even let the two of them take the kids to the Swamp Buggy Races and didn’t scold anyone when they came back looking like they’d been playing in the mud. Much of Amelia’s efforts were now focused on spreading the word about human trafficking. She’d taken care of the Guatemalan girl the night Cole found her, and she was going to testify against Verdugo at his trial.
Now where was that terry-cloth robe? If Cole had taken it, he’d look like a giant in it. Bree barely made it back into her suit and wrapped a towel around her waist as the kids arrived.
“Aunt Bree, Aunt Bree, can we do that snorkel game now, where we find the coins in the pool?”
Both boys hit into her with hard hugs. “If your mother and dad say so.”
“Not only do we say so,” Amelia said, putting down a tray of cookies and brownies, despite the fact that Bree had told her she’d fix everything this time, “but—ta-da!” she cried, and produced a snorkel and a mask, both of which still sported their price tags.
“You’re going to join us?” Bree said, walking over to hug her, however wet she was. Amelia didn’t seem to mind. Ben was off in the corner already, talking to someone on his cell, but Amelia didn’t seem to mind that, either.
“Leftover desserts from the fund-raiser luncheon,” Amelia said. “And, yes, I want to join you. It’s better than fighting, I hear.”
When Cole hustled the boys off to change into their suits, Bree and Amelia stood arm in arm. Amelia had explained everything that had happened the day Daria died. Bree had been furious at first and blamed Amelia for leaving Daria vulnerable to Nikki and Mark. But it was Daria’s own mistakes and lies that had made her vulnerable. And perhaps, Bree had told herself, it was the morning sickness from the pregnancy that made Daria slip, not anything Amelia had done. Amelia had believed that Bree would surface soon and, as ever, care for her twin. Bree’s conflicting feelings of love and hate toward Amelia had made her understand the torment Amelia had lived with most of her life.
The first month of Amelia’s psychiatric appointments, Bree had gone with her. They’d worked through the past. When Bree had hugged her even then, Amelia said she knew that she was loved for sure.
“In the pool,” Cole shouted, clapping his hands as the boys jumped in the shallow end. “Lots of fun things can happen in the pool, and we don’t even need to be afraid of getting in the deep end,” he said, with such a funny look at Bree that Amelia laughed.
“I have a feeling we interrupted something,” Amelia said. “Maybe that’s really why I want to get in the water. Ben and I have a very nice, big pool, and he’s been much, much too busy lately. Maybe the wide-eyed honeymooner can give me a few tips.”
The two of them giggled together, as if they were just silly, happy girls again.
A salsa beat shook the walls of the Garcia Party House in Immokalee. Nearly three hundred people crowded the food tables and the dance floor. This Mexicana quinceañera celebration with family and friends touched Bree deeply. She was proud to have been one of Lucinda’s financial supporters to help pay for this beautiful party marking a girl’s “sweet fifteen” transition to womanhood.
And it turned out that Daria had helped to pay for it, too. Manny had admitted that she had given him money to keep quiet about her pregnancy—and that he had spent it on a partial payment for the party house. Bree and her new junior partner had been through a lot of discussions on how they would run things at Mermaids, and they had come to a much better understanding of each other. Bree felt she’d been in the forgiveness business full-time lately, and was a much better, stronger person for it.
The Salazars had selected a Cinderella theme with pink and white bunting, and a Disney Cinderella, no less, on the five-tiered cake. Cindi—she’d asked Bree to call her Lucinda today—looked half bride, half prom queen in her white gown and upswept hair with her gold tiara.
Manny had said that she’d taken five required hours of pre-quinceañera counseling classes at her church about everything from family responsibilities to sexuality and religion. Besides that, the Salazars’ meeting with Luke and his family had helped a lot. Manny had thanked Bree for her part in that and for visiting him every day in the hospital while he was recovering from being hit over the head with his own wrench.
“And now,” Manny announced proudly over the tinny PA system, first in Spanish, then English, as his wife and even his ill, rake-thin mother beamed, “you all invited to dance to this Mexican waltz. Its name, Mi Linda Hijita, for our non-Latino friends here, means my beautiful daughter.”
After Lucinda’s teenage supporters demonstrated the steps and everyone applauded, Bree and Cole left their padrones table to join others on the dance floor. Luke was partnering Lucinda this time, and she took his hand and led him over to Cole and Bree, dancing cheek to cheek in a corner.
“Thanks for coming, both of you,” Lucinda said. She looked radiant. Luke, bless him, looked proud. “I just wanted to show you this bracelet, Bree. Every quinceañera girl gets one, ’cause it stands for the unending circle of life.”
For a moment Bree wondered if Manny had told his family she was pregnant. Bree had shared that with him, not only because she’d need more help soon with the business, but because she didn’t want to shut him out as Daria had both of them.
Lucinda went on. “Look close. I put names on the charms of people who are gone, but still with us in our hearts. Here are both my grandpas’ names, and I put Daria’s here, too, see?”
Bree’s eyes filled
with tears. Cole’s arm came around her waist as if to steady her. Wordlessly, but mouthing thank you, Bree hugged Lucinda, before she and Luke danced off together again.
“You okay?” Cole asked. “Want to stay?”
“Of course I do. I don’t want to miss what she has planned for Manny next. The look on his face will be worth the price of admission.”
One of Lucinda’s friends carried a chair out into the center of the dance floor, and she pulled her father out and sat him down in it. Another friend brought out a huge pillow, which Lucinda sat on at his feet, amidst the puffy softness of her full skirts. The band quieted and, looking up into her father’s nervous face, Lucinda said in Spanish, her voice wavering, “I want to especially thank the main man in my life for sticking with me through tough times—and for this happy day and others to come.”
On cue, the band began to play some song Bree didn’t know, but it made Manny, macho no more, cry.
Bree turned to Cole and whispered, “I want to especially thank the main man in my life for sticking with me through tough times—and for this happy day and others to come.”
Cole looked as teary-eyed as Manny as he put his arms around Bree and patted her belly. Bree put a hand down to link her fingers with his. She liked to think of her baby inside her, swimming already, safe in her own little sea.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-0538-6
BELOW THE SURFACE
Copyright © 2008 by Karen Harper.
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Karen Harper, Below the Surface
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