Chasing Sunsets Part 32

When we reached the master bedroom, Steven leaned against the door frame and allowed me to wander around the expansive suite, complete with dressing room, large walk-in closets, and a his-and-her bathroom. When I rejoined him, I stopped halfway across the room. His look was so intense and he looked like a man at home, shoulder resting against the wood, one leg crossed over the other, hands in his shorts pockets. He wore khakis-as he nearly always did-and an island-inspired short-sleeved silk s.h.i.+rt. "So? What do you think?"

I crossed my arms and stood with my feet planted together. "What do you think? That's the real question."

"I like it. I like it a lot. I haven't even bothered to look at other places since I got here last year. I've got the money from the sale of my place in Atlanta and I really need to invest it this year before I get pulverized by Uncle Sam next year."

I nodded. "What do you like most about it?"

He grinned. "The outside."

"Inside, I mean."

His eyes turned smoky. "Seeing you standing in it."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Room-wise?"

He straightened, pulled his hands from his pockets, and crossed his arms. "It's got a lot of s.p.a.ce. I like the den and the bonus room, which I could use as an office. That's one thing Dad never had. He turned the third bedroom into his office and Mom always complained about never having anywhere for company to sleep."

"Well, this certainly has room for company."

He grinned at me again. "Hey," he said, long and slow. "I got special permission from the realty office to bring something for us to eat here. It's not much. We've got some croissants and crabmeat, raw vegetables and berries waiting for us down in the kitchen."

"Sounds perfect," I said. "We can eat in the Florida room."

"That's what I was thinking."

After we'd eaten and talked about all the things he hoped to do with the yard just beyond the windows, Steven and I drove to the beaches along G Street to watch the sun set. He pulled two folding chairs from the back of the Jeep and set them up on the side of the road. The breeze and sunlight felt balmy against my face and skin. I tugged my floppy hat a little lower on my forehead.

"So, now that we've got all that out of the way, tell me what you wanted to share with me," he said, reaching for my hand and linking his fingers with mine.

"Why don't you go first? Or was the house it?"

"No. The house wasn't it. The house was just the beginning of all my good news." He giggled like a schoolboy. "I've been talking to Eliza . . . about us-about how I feel about you, in particular-and about your sons coming after July 4th. And she told me she's planning to come here on the 3rd to spend the holiday with her grandparents and me. I've talked her into staying a few extra days before heading back, so she can meet Chase and Cody, and they can meet her." He paused. "What do you think?"

I closed my eyes then opened them again. Several gulls flew overhead; I watched until they were out of sight, their cawing barely audible, drowned out now by the slapping of water against the sh.o.r.eline. I sat straight and turned to Steven. "Can I ask you a question?" My voice came out lower than I'd expected.

"You don't seem happy about my news. I know; too much, too soon."

I turned fully to face him, to touch the side of his face with the fingertips of my free hand. It felt warm and smooth. "No, it sounds good. It sounds wonderful, in fact. But before I can allow myself to get too excited-about Eliza or the house-I need to tell you . . . to ask you a question."

Steven scooted back enough that my hand slipped from his face. He caught it with his free hand and held it. "Ask. Anything."

"You told me you haven't dated, really, since your divorce."

He blinked, but his eyes never left mine. "I haven't."

"Not even anyone here on the island?"

"No." His body s.h.i.+fted so that his elbows rested on his knees, which was awkward for me. I moved to accommodate him. "Why? Has someone . . ." His jaw flexed. "Rosa," he hissed as he looked out at the water. "That's why you asked about her earlier." He jerked his head toward me. "Right? I'm right, aren't I?"

My stomach lurched. I couldn't speak, I could only nod.

"What did she tell you?"

I decided to begin at the end. "That you've dated all the single women on this island."

Something like a growl came from deep within him. He stared at his feet. "That woman! Honestly, sometimes I don't know how Manny puts up with her."

The sky was turning dark red. I pulled my sungla.s.ses away from my face and rested them along the brim of my hat. "It's not true, then?"

He turned his attention back to me. "Of course not. Look, Kim, if I tell you I've never dated anyone since Brigitte, then you have to believe me. I'm not a man who's used to lying or even to having his word doubted."

Hope stirred inside me. If this part of Rosa's story wasn't true, then perhaps . . . "There's one other thing. Rosa stated that she and you . . ." I pressed my lips together. They were dry again, as parched as old bones. "That the two of you . . . when we were younger . . ."

Steven straightened. His hands released mine. He folded his arms over his chest and his eyes went cold. "Did she tell you that we were together? Like a man and woman, together?"

I nodded.

He threw his head back, then shook it before bringing his eyes back to mine. "My word, Kim, I've been with one woman my whole life and I married her." He ran his hands down his face. In one fluid movement he turned his chair to face mine, his left foot tucked under the bend in his right and his hands wrapped around my wrists. "Listen to me . . . I want you to believe what I'm about to tell you."

I looked down at my hands. "You're hurting me, Steven."

He released his grip. "I'm sorry." His voice cracked. "I'm just . . . I want to make sure you won't walk away from me."

I didn't like where this was going. Anxiety whirled inside me, and I shoved my hands under my legs to steady them. "I'm listening."

"Okay. So, yeah, when we were kids . . . Rosa used to come around. After you and I got together that summer, after we started dating, I guess you could say."

I tried to keep my voice steady. "While I was here? Before or after I left to go back home?" As if it mattered.

"Before." I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down in the warm glow of the sunset. "I don't mean to be crude, but Rosa . . . she was like a girl on fire, if you know what I mean." He made the growling sound again. A sudden wind came in off the Gulf and lifted the hair resting along his forehead. The dimming sunlight played with the natural soft-brown highlights. I looked out at the water; it rippled to the south. A storm was coming.

My own hair wrapped around my neck and my hat lifted from my head. I pulled it off and held it between the fingertips of my left hand. I ran the fingers of my right through the damp roots of my hair. "Go on," I said.

"She tried her best to get me to . . . do things with her. She said things that drive a man crazy. Especially a boy at eighteen."

"Like what?"

He shook his head. "Nah-ah. No way I'm repeating some of the things she said to me. But trust me, Kim, in those days, whatever you had, she wanted."

"But you and I never . . ."

"She thought we had." His eyes narrowed. "And it wasn't just me. It was everything. Clothes, house, family dynamics . . ."

I frowned. "Meaning?"

The lines along his face softened. "Sisters. Mother and father under the same roof. She had a lot of respect for them. Especially your father." His mouth twisted. "Listen, Kim, if I'd known she was still up to her conniving ways, I would have never suggested you go see her about the housekeeper position."

I turned to face the water. It was the deepest shade of amethyst; the sun cast the thick line of its golden shadow toward us. Thunderheads grew in the distance. "I don't know what's worse. Learning that my childhood friend betrayed me or that you did."

Steven scooted to the edge of his chair. I looked at him; he looked desperate and a little angry. "Kim, you have to believe me. I promise you, I never once laid a hand on her. Not in that way."

"Did you kiss her?" I held my breath and waited for the answer.

"No," it finally came.

I exhaled.

"But she kissed me."

I inhaled again. "What's the difference, Steven?"

"I never once came on to her, Kim. Yes, she kissed me and yes I kissed her back. I'm human, you know . . . But I promise you . . ." He took my face in his hands. "I promise you, Kim." Steven pulled me toward him, pressed his forehead against mine. "Don't do this," he whispered. "Don't let her do this. Not now. Not to us."

I shook my head. "Let it go," I whispered back.

He pulled away, but his hands rested on my shoulders. "What?"

"I can't control this. Can't control the past, can I?"

Steven smiled weakly. "No," he sighed.

"What happened, happened."

"But not because I wanted it."

Afraid to speak, I could only look at him. If one word left my mouth or one movement s.h.i.+fted my body, I knew I would fall apart. The thought of Rosa kissing Steven when we were younger sickened me. I couldn't let my mind go there or I'd explode with a hurt born more than twenty years earlier.

I turned again toward the sunset. The sky now exploded in shades of gold; the sun had disappeared behind the tree line on the side of the island farthest west. Steven resumed his earlier position and I relaxed into my chair. I felt his hand brush mine, and I closed my eyes to wait for what I instinctively knew would come next.

"I love you, Kimberly-Boo," he said, once again linking our fingers. "Do you hear me? I love you."

I squeezed his fingers with mine. "I love you too, Steven Granger."

Another few gulls flew nearby, soaring near the pier running into the water to our left. My heart wanted to take flight with them, but it hurt too much right then. Even with our words of love, my heart hurt. Rosa had betrayed me, not just once, but twice.

Tomorrow, I decided, for the sake of my own sanity, I'd have to resume a semblance of control. For my sake. For Steven's and mine.

Tomorrow I'd find out why.

31.

1990.

Rosa Rivera had no plans for college, but her mother did.

"You're going. And that's final!" With one hand Eliana pushed the swinging door leading from their kitchen into the dining room. The other cradled two china plates and enough flatware for their dinner meal.

Rosa was right behind her. "But, Mom. Just listen to me for a minute. Hear me out, okay?"

Eliana gingerly placed the plates at the head of the table, and with both hands gripping the sides of the stack, she looked up and said, "I did not work my fingers to the bone all these years, Rosalita, for you to come to me and tell me you will not go to college. I gave you a year to work and to find yourself as you asked and now it is time. Besides, it's been decided already."

"By who? Because it certainly wasn't me who decided."

Rosa watched her mother as she straightened inch by inch as though in pain. She planted both fists on her lean hips. "It was decided long ago. That's all you need to know."

"By you and my father?"

"Get the gla.s.ses, Rosa."

Rosa went to the corner china cabinet, brought out two pretty crystal gla.s.ses, and set them at the right of each plate her mother had arranged. "So? Am I right? He got to decide what I would do with my life and then he just took off? He's dead to me but I have to live by his rules?"

Her mother slammed a fork beside one of the plates. "Respeteme!"

"I do respect you, Mom. But I don't want to live by the rules you and Hector somehow managed to conjure up for me, okay?"

"I will not argue this point with you," she said. "You are going to college and that is that. No more discussion on this tonight."

A month later, Ross Claybourne came into the little restaurant where Rosa worked three nights a week and on weekends. "Hey, Dr. Claybourne," she said. "What brings you here? And alone."

"Oh, I just thought I'd come in and have a cup of coffee. Maybe take in the scenery."

Rosa showed him to a table near the water. "So a cup of coffee? Black, right?"

Ross Claybourne smiled at her. "And how about a piece of key lime pie."

She smiled back. "You've got it, Dr. Claybourne."

When she'd placed his order before him he looked up at her and said, "Sit down for a minute, Rosa. Let's talk."

Rosa looked over her shoulder and back to the man who had been almost like a father to her, at least when he came to the island. "My mother sent you to talk to me, didn't she?"

He laughed but didn't answer. "Sit down," he said. "I'll cover for you if the boss gets upset."

Rosa sat. "Well, it's not too busy right now . . ."

Dr. Claybourne took a sip of his coffee and, placing the mug back on the table, said, "Yes, your mother did talk to me. She was out at the house today."

Rosa sighed. "It's all about getting her way, Dr. Claybourne. She doesn't even want to know what I want to do."

"What do you want to do?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."