Summer Sunsets

  Is she considering adoption, or possibly trying to have the baby on her own? Is she ever going to tell me?

  Frowning, I get up and grab my shoes, suddenly more disturbed than I had been. No matter how terrified Skye might be about this, I’m excited. Granted, the timing is incredibly bad. I would much rather have been able to propose to her when there was nothing at stake so she would know just how much I love her, but if this complication forces my hand, I’m okay with it. I want Skye to be my wife. It really doesn’t much matter how the circumstances have played out to make that happen.

  And I love kids—absolutely love them.

  Unsure what else to do, I plant my butt back on the beach and lie down, my arms folded beneath my head. No, sleep isn’t an option in this position, but I pretty much know I wouldn’t be able to force myself to sleep, anyhow, not with all this chaos between me and Skye. So instead, I watch the heavens change from midnight black to a burst of fiery pink that starts in a small eastern pocket and gradually flames the whole sky until the ocean, too, glows sherbet.

  Smiling, I stare, at the sunrise, entranced until day finally banishes the pink, and there is only one thing which would have made it better—if Skye had watched it with me.

  Skye.

  I glance at my watch, wondering if the office for the cabins would be open yet. There’s probably no way to tell without actually going over there, so I slip on my shoes, stand, and dust the sand from the back of my jeans. I’ll probably carry a small pocket of beach home in my jeans, but I don’t care. The time in the sand has definitely been well worth it.

  Although I don’t expect the glass door of the rental office to give at my push, it does and I smile. A bell over the door jangles at my arrival and I walk up to the counter, where an elderly gentleman stands, typing at his computer.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yeah, that would be great. I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend here. I know she rented one of the cabins, and she was supposed to call me, but my cell died on the drive out. We come out here every year and usually stay in cabin fifteen.

  “Does your girlfriend have a name?” He cocks an eyebrow at me suspiciously and waits.

  “Skye Williams.”

  He flips through some paperwork before looking up at me. “Yeah. She’s in fifteen.” He lowers his eyebrows at me like he’s thinking way too hard. “Yeah, come to think of it, I remember seeing you with her. You do come every year.”

  I’m relieved he remembers me after all. “Yeah. Skye’s a beach baby.”

  He nods. “Perfect place for it.” He turns and lifts a trembling hand to grab a key. “Here, this will let you slip inside and surprise her.”

  “Thanks.” I take the key and turn around, heading to the door.

  “That’s a pretty little girlfriend you’ve got there.”

  I stop at the door and shoot him a smile. “Prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”

  We give each other an understanding nod, and I slip out, already trying to figure out the best way to propose to Skye. Hell, I should be putting together a battle strategy to get her to listen to me because that’s going to have to come first. I can already hear her arguments; there won’t be any shortage of those. Of that, I’m sure. Trouble is, when she’s made up her mind, it takes a miracle to get her to change, which is why I need to get to her as soon as possible. The future she’s been carefully trying so hard to avoid is now staring her in the face, and I fully intend to make her see my point, especially if she’s pregnant.

  I look at the cabins as I walk, double-checking to make sure I’m headed to the right. Although I don’t think the key will fit any of the others, I’d hate to be wrong and give some ultra-macho jock a nasty surprise. I’m not sure how I’d explain my mistake before he wanted to beat the crap out of me.

  I spot fifteen, and it brings back memories of a few months ago when things were a little less complicated—a place I’m definitely hoping to return to very soon because all this tension is for the birds. Aware Skye might be sleeping, I take care to muffle the sound of my shoes as I go up the steps. I gently slip the key into the lock and twist the knob. The door eases open. The rusty hinges protest as I nudge it open wider and step inside.

  Not far from the door, I spot Skye’s bags, still packed, which is totally like her. She’s probably just worried about decompressing. Two more steps.

  Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my calf, and someone grabs my arm, hurtling me head over heels into a full somersault that slams my body against the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I start gasping, trying to take in enough air, but it won’t come fast enough.

  Blinking, I see Skye hopping around, trying not to stand on her injured ankle.

  “Damn! Damn! Damn!” She finally sinks onto the couch. “That hurt!” For a few seconds she looks at her ankle and then turns to me, a horrified grimace pasted on her face, and for the moment I’m relieved she seems truly contrite for knocking me on my ass. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers breathlessly, her long, dark hair cascading toward her face, the curls unruly and tighter than usual, probably from the ocean’s humidity.

  “Sure you are.” It’s going to take me a few minutes before I can catch my breath. Hell, I’m not so sure I even remember my name, considering how hard I hit.

  She sits there awkwardly, her arms dangling uselessly at her sides as though she doesn’t really know what to do with them. She’s wearing a Betty Boop tee-shirt and matching sleep pants, and something tells me she only came out of bed when she heard me moving around outside. So much for my stealth mode.

  “When did you learn to do that?” I manage, easing myself to a sitting position.

  Shrugging, she said, “Last year. I took a self-defense class because I thought it would help. I’m not sure it did, though. Devin, what are you doing here?”

  “Trying to talk some sense into you.” I get up and rub the back of my head where it hit the floor. “Of course, that was before I realized you were a lethal weapon.”

  “Very funny.” She frowns. “How did you even get in?”

  “The little old guy who owns the cabins remembered we often came together. I convinced him I was supposed to be here with you.”

  “How did you know I was here? I didn’t tell anyone.” She leans back against the couch, making her hair poof out around her head.

  “You didn’t have to. I know you, Skye. It took a few minutes to get inside your head and figure out where you’d go, but it wasn’t hard. This seems to be the only place you feel like you’re free.” I stretch for a moment, more to make sure when I hit I didn’t damage anything except my pride. I mean I’m a lot taller than Skye, but she flipped me like that didn’t even matter. Kudos to her self-defense teacher. I sit on the couch next to her.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she finally says, looking away. Interesting how she goes from feeling bad about throwing me on the floor to wanting me to leave, but I know no self-defense class is going to protect Skye on the inside. The more vulnerable she feels, the harder she’ll try to push me away—not that it’s going to work, mind you.

  “And why is that?” I ask, trying to engage her eyes. She won’t look at me.

  “Devin, there’s just some stuff I have to think about—some things I have to decide on. That’s why I came here.”

  I lean toward her and set my hand on her knee. “That doesn’t make sense, Skye, not unless there’s someone back there you’re trying to leave behind—say your dad or me.”

  Her gaze jerks in my direction, and now I know I have her attention. I also know I’m onto something just by the emotional reaction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her nostrils flare, and I can tell she’s having a difficult time keeping things on an even keel. Part of her wants to react the way the old Skye would’ve, but then again, she really doesn’t want to go to visit all the places she ended up because of the old Skye. Even I know that much.

  “Don’t you?” I ask softly. I’m challenging her, thinking i
f I try to draw it out, at least the topic will be on her terms, making her feel more comfortable with it. “You can lie to a lot of people, Skye, but I’m not one of them. I might as well have known you my whole life, and I’m not going to back away because you’re scared. You know I don’t work that way.”

  Her shoulders sink, and I feel the tension working through her body. Although I’d like to believe that if she were pregnant, she’d just tell me, the more I sit here, watching her, the more I think I’m right. I just don’t get why she won’t say something.

  “It’s complicated, Devin.” She starts to stand, but I grab her arm.

  “What’s complicated? The fact that I love you? That I’ve always loved you? Or is it something else, something I already have a pretty good idea I know?”

  The color abruptly leaves her face, and she exhales a stuttering breath, obviously unsettled I might already know her secret. She looks down at my hand, and while I want to keep holding on, I ease my fingers from around her elbow and release it. She immediately stands.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Her voice is quiet, and in that moment, I realize she’s never going to willingly admit what’s happening. It scares her too much. I mean, look what happened the last time she got pregnant. She’s probably scared that this time will somehow end up the same. Instead of talking more, she gives me her backside and stares out the window at the water rolling toward the shore. Even though the windows are closed, it’s impossible not to hear the sound of the surf.

  “All right. You don’t want to talk. That’s fine. I’ve got plenty to say.” I get up and step toward her, my shoes thumping against the floor, giving her time to get used to the idea I’m right behind her. She doesn’t turn.

  “I just want to be alone.”

  “Sorry. That’s not one of the options. I gently take her hand and turn her toward me, well aware she’s going to keep staring at the floor until I give her a reason to stop, and I’m planning on that. She just doesn’t have a clue what’s coming.

  “While I’m a lot of things, I’m not dense, Skye. Both of us know that. I’m not exactly unaware of certain things. You were vomiting yesterday. You wanted to pick up something from Walgreens, something you sure as hell didn’t want me to know about. And then you take off like Satan himself is chasing you. All of those things point to one simple point, yet another thing you don’t want to talk about: you’re pregnant.”

  Her shoulders sags and she almost falls. That’s enough to tell me I’m right, no matter what comes out of her mouth. Although she lets me hold her for a second to stabilize her, just as soon as she’s sure-footed again, she tries to pull away.

  “Devin, I just need some time to think.”

  I won’t let her go. “Maybe you do need time to think. I get that. But running away and pretending like you’re the only one in this isn’t fair—not to me, and not to the baby.”

  Tears prick her eyes, and she tries to blink them away. Her lips part like she wants to say something, but she can’t seem to find the words or the energy to form them, even if she knew what they should be. So we just stare at one another, this damned invisible elephant between us. I won’t budge, and neither will she.

  “Say something,” I finally demand, figuring she at least owes me that much, as I’ve been up all night and yet never once considered letting her go as she thought I might. I really had hoped she knew me better.

  “You don’t understand.” She walks back to the couch and I can tell it’s because she wants to put space between us, and if she thinks she needs a little bit of wiggle room, I’ll give her that, I think, staying put.

  “What is it I don’t understand?” I start to say more but force myself to shut up and let her get it out.

  “We’re not married. I don’t even have a job. Neither do you.”

  “That’s your best shot?” I ask, reaching into my pocket where the ring is hiding, and once I pull it out, I kneel in front of her, holding it up. “Skye, I love you. Will you marry me?”

  The first cue that this has gone wrong is that she just stares at the ring, her eyes growing wider, giving her the same frightened appearance as when she was sixteen and pregnant, back when the world was practically caving in around her. “Devin, don’t do this.” Her voice is quiet, and that scares me. If she were screaming, it would mean she wasn’t nearly so far away. It’s quiet Skye that means she’s practically unreachable.

  I wait a few seconds longer, hoping she’ll take the ring, but she doesn’t. Instead, she closes her eyes, shutting both the ring and me out, so I get up. “Okay, do what, Skye? What is it I’m doing that’s so wrong?”

  She folds her arms across her chest. “You’re throwing your life away. Because of me.”

  I step back, emotionally reeling because I sure hadn’t expect that. Maybe she meant to hurt me, but I don’t think so. No, that was what she honestly felt…about herself. So I take a deep breath and step toward her. “Wasting my life? That’s what you think? Because you’re pregnant, right?”

  “Yeah.” She averts her eyes, preferring the carpet to my face.

  “Sorry to shatter that illusion, Skye.” I look down at the ring. “I’ve had this ring since before I came back from college, and I’ve been trying every way I know to propose without scaring you off. Maybe you think this is a pity party, but it’s not. I wanted you long before we made love, I want you more now, and I’ll find two damned jobs if I have to. I’ve already got an interview next week. But one way or another, I want us to have this baby. Together.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispers.

  I slip my finger beneath her chin and force her to look at me. “I know exactly what I’m saying, and whom I’m saying it to. The only thing you have to do is give me the answer in your heart because that’s the only one that matters.”

  Once again, I kneel in front of her, taking her hand in mine. “Skye Nicole Williams, you are the best part of my life. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  I look at her face, wondering if she’ll still fight me. For a moment, I see pain wavering in her face. Then she answers, her lips trembling as tears spill down her face.

  “Yes.”

  She shivers, as though she didn’t even know what she was going to say, and I pull her into my arms and kiss her face. “That’s my girl.” I look down at her ankle. “How is your ankle?”

  “It’s better. I propped it up after getting her, and that helped a lot, at least until I flipped you.”

  I shake my head. “Hey, don’t blame me. That was all you.”

  For a moment, we just sit there, locked in each other’s arms and knowing there is no more perfect place for us to be. Hell, we’d probably stay here all day if my cell wasn’t ringing.

  I start to pull away, and she whispers, “You’re not going to get that, are you?”

  I nod. “’Fraid so. You only left Helen and Warren fit to be tied—and my mom’s a huge worry-wart. Then again, you knew that.”

  Looking at the display, I see Warren’s name. “It’s Warren,” I tell her and flip it open. “Hello?”

  “Devin, did you find Skye?”

  I look over at her and wink. “Yeah. She’s fine.”

  “Thank God.”

  I can tell by his breathy, panicked voice something is wrong on his end. “Warren? Is something wrong?”

  “It’s Helen. She had a stroke. She’s in ICU now.”

  “Okay. I’ll let Skye know. We’ll get packed and head back. It’s going to take us most of the day to get back.”

  I snap the phone shut, all the while dreading what’s coming, and I can feel Skye staring at me like I’ve grown another head.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Your mom had a stroke, and we need to get back.”

  Immediately, both hands rush to her face, covering her nose and mouth. I can hear the sharp intake of breath as fear overcomes her. “Oh, God. Is she all right?”

  “
She’s in ICU. I told Warren we’ leave now to get back there as soon as we can.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Back in high school, I didn’t have a problem staying up most of the night; however, the whole drive home, I feel myself fighting sleep, and there’re a few times it almost wins as I follow Skye. The drive seems to take forever, and I imagine Skye sitting behind the wheel, her left arm propped on the door and her hand supporting her head—the usual Skye driving position.

  She’s got a million things to think about, and this drive isn’t helping anyone, least of all her. By the time we pull into the hospital parking lot, I’m grateful for the chance to stretch my legs. It’s not like there’s not ample leg-room in the Jeep; it’s just hard to get comfortable there, and even as I get out and stretch, Skye is eyeing the front entrance while talking on the phone, probably confirming Helen’s room number.

  She snaps the phone shut and turns to me, the keys dangling from her hand. “She’s in 148.”

  “Let’s go.” I slip my arm around her, my hand resting on her lower back.

  I can tell by the way she leans close she’s scared as hell, and I don’t blame her. This has definitely made me think about my parents in a different light—one of gratitude and recognition of my stupid moments. I guess we always expect our parents are incapable of dying, that they’ll always be there so that when we finally figure things out, we can talk with them.

  But they aren’t immortal, and one day, they, too, will leave us. It’s not about what anybody wants; it just happens. I’m praying today isn’t that day for Skye. I want this to be the happiest day she’s known, and I want Helen to be able to know Skye’s future is safe.

  We slip into the lobby, where a handful of people sit talking. A few others stand at the reception desk, asking for room numbers. Glancing at the elevators, we head that way and take the first car to the next floor.

  The dietary staff is handing out dinner trays, cluttering the halls as they go, and the two of us gainfully dodge the trays and workers while searching for Helen’s room. When we get there, we find the door closed. Skye looks at me, and I look back. Then she decides to grab the handle and push.