At Hidden Falls (Angel's Bay Novel) (11 page)

“Do you like one of those boys?” The idea terrified him.

She shrugged. “Maybe. But you don’t have to worry.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not stupid. The last thing I would ever do is get knocked up like my mother did.”

Nick hoped she was as smart as she thought she was. He remembered the days when being young, reckless, and stupid seemed to go very well together.

“While you’re on suspension,” he said, “you’ll need to help out at the theater. I have to go back to Montgomery for a few hours tomorrow.”

“I can stay home alone.”

“I know, but the theater is a family business, and you’re part of the family. They could use your help.”

“You don’t help there.”

“I’m actually working on some plans to renovate the theater.”

“I thought you hated the place.”

“Who told you that?”

“Cord,” she said, referring to her cousin. “He said you only came back to Angel’s Bay because of me. That you don’t get along with anyone in the family.”

“That’s not true. I have some issues with my parents, but I love them. They’re not perfect, but neither am I.” He gave her a smile. “And believe it or not, neither are you.”

Megan shrugged and reached for another piece of pizza. “Whatever.”

When Isabella returned home from the theater, she unloaded the clothes and groceries she’d bought, took Rufus for a short walk around the block, then decided to explore Joe’s house. He’d said he’d found her necklace in a box in the basement, so that’s where she’d start.

The small basement was crowded with boxes, an old steamer trunk, and a water heater. She opened the trunk first, surprised to find layers and layers of material. She pulled out the fabric, amazed by the bright colors and the silky textures, although some of them had faded with age. Why on earth would her bachelor uncle have kept a trunk filled with fabric? She sat cross-legged on the floor as she dug a little deeper.

She pulled out a dress of deep blue silk that had tiny silver sequins sewn along the plunging neckline. As her hands absorbed the texture of the fabric, Isabella felt herself slipping away.

She worked the tiny needle in and out of the material, her fingers aching from the painstaking detail. She didn’t want to sew this dress for the woman he would marry. But it was her job, not her choice. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

It also wasn’t right for her to want him when he belonged to another woman. Even if he’d been free, he was not for her. She was Hispanic and poor. He was white and rich. They lived in different worlds. He breathed life onto the stage; he was a star. She worked behind the scenes, in the small, stuffy room filled with costumes.

But she loved him.

And he loved her.

He hadn’t said it, but she’d felt it when he’d held her by the falls, when he’d kissed her, when he’d forgotten for just a minute that they could never be together.

The door slammed overhead, jolting Isabella back to reality. She dropped the dress back into the trunk, her heart racing, her palms sweaty. She didn’t know the woman she was connecting to, but she felt very close to her, as if she were in her head, in her soul. It was the same way she’d felt at the theater. This woman who had worked in the costume shop was trying to tell her something. Why? What did the past have to do with the present?

As Joe appeared at the top of the stairs, she got to her feet, wiping the dust off the seat of her jeans.

“There you are,” he said, giving her a curious look. “What are you doing?”

“Just looking around,” she said, moving up the stairs. “I was curious about the pendant you sent me. Uncle Carlos wasn’t married, so I wonder who it belonged to.”

“Maybe a girlfriend,” he suggested. “Or a relative. I’m sure that over the years, someone from his side of the family came to visit.”

“Probably,” she agreed, deciding to leave it at that. While Joe was the least judgmental of her siblings when it came to her special gifts, he was still a pragmatic cop.

“I picked up some Chinese food earlier,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat. So what did you do today?” he asked as they headed into the kitchen.

“I did a little shopping.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile.

“Hey, my clothes are in the ocean.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard one of my sisters make that excuse,” he teased.

She made a face at him, then pulled plates out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. “I ran into a very friendly woman named Kara. She said her husband is a cop, and she wants me to get you to come to dinner one night. Apparently, you’re a hard man to say thank you to.”

Joe shrugged. “Kara has nothing to thank me for,” he said as he spooned rice and vegetables onto a plate.

“That’s not what she says.”

“Her husband got shot in the line of duty. We all did what we could for her and Colin.” He opened the refrigerator. “What do you want to drink?”

“I’m just going to have water,” she replied as she fixed a plate for herself, then followed him out to the dining table. “Kara told me the local theater is looking for backstage volunteers. I thought it would be fun, so I went by the theater and offered to help with the costumes.”

“And here I thought you might spend the day resting.”

“I’m not one for sitting around.”

“No, you’re not. You’ve always had an amazing amount of energy, and you make friends faster than anyone I know.” He gave her a smile. “While I’ve grown used to living alone, it’s kind of nice to have you in the house.”

“Rufus isn’t much of a conversationalist, huh?” she asked with a grin as Joe slipped a piece of beef under the table to the dog, who had his head on Joe’s knee.

Joe laughed. “He’s a good listener, though. He doesn’t talk back to me or tell me I’m wrong.”

“Man’s best friend.”

His smile broadened. “Exactly. So you’re going to work at the theater. The Hartleys are an interesting family, lots of colorful characters.”

“It seems that way. I wonder if Uncle Carlos had anything to do with the theater,” she mused.

“Why would you wonder that?”

“Because there’s a trunk filled with fabric, dresses, and jewelry in the basement.”

“Maybe he was a cross-dresser,” he joked.

“Do you know how Uncle Carlos came to Angel’s Bay in the first place? Were there other family members here? Did he inherit the house from someone?”

“I’ve been told that there was a Silveira on a ship that went down in the 1850s,” Joe said. “Fiona Murray keeps trying to tell me the story, but I’ve managed to avoid hearing it.”

“Why? Don’t you want to know about our ancestors?”

“Not particularly.”

“Really? I love history and bloodlines and all that.” How could she not, when the visions in her head showed how connected the past and the present really were?

“Then you should talk to Fiona. She runs the quilt shop. I think we might even have a square on the old quilt they keep remaking.”

“I will definitely talk to her,” Isabella said, excited at the prospect. She touched her fingers to the pendant, which was warm against her skin. She felt sure the necklace was part of her family history, too. It had called her back to Angel’s Bay for a reason. She just had to figure out what it was.

The next morning, Isabella woke up after a surprisingly dreamless sleep, threw on running gear, put Rufus in the truck, and drove to a trail Joe had told her about. The path wound through the hills, which was perfect, since the nightmarish accident had made her want to avoid the sea. They’d found her car crushed and filled with seawater at the bottom of a cliff, with no sign of her suitcase or her purse—probably washed away by the tide. She’d had no interest in seeing her car and being reminded of how narrowly she’d escaped death.

She started up the trail at a brisk walk to warm up her muscles. While her bruises and strains were fading, they weren’t completely gone. The morning air was cold, with a foggy mist trying to burn its way off, but the scenery was gorgeous, the trail winding under thick canopies of redwood trees, opening up now and then to a spectacular vista.

She passed a few people along the way, each one offering her a friendly greeting. Angel’s Bay was nothing like L.A., where people either averted their eyes or were too busy texting or talking on their cell phones to say hello to a stranger.

It took almost a half hour to reach the summit, offering a spectacular view of the ocean and the harbor, the downtown area, central square, and the bluffs that ran along the coastline. She took a sip from her water bottle as Rufus flopped on the ground, happy to take a break. It had been an uphill climb the last mile, but it had felt good to exercise, and she’d always been a big fan of mornings, when reality chased away the dreams.

The sound of footsteps drew her head around as another runner came up the hill at a brisk pace. The man wore a navy-blue windbreaker over dark sweats, and she knew it was Nick Hartley even before he looked up. A little tingle ran down her spine.

As he drew closer, she could hear his ragged breathing; he’d pushed the hill harder than she had. His hair was damp from the mist, his cheeks red, his eyes bright and a little wary as they met hers.

“We meet again,” she said.

“Yes, we do. You must be feeling back to normal, since you made it up the hill.”

“I took it slower than I normally would.” She swept her hand toward the horizon. “The view was worth the effort.”

“It’s not bad.” He bent down to give Rufus a scratch as the dog started to sniff him. “How you doing, buddy? Does this guy belong to you or your brother?”

“To Joe. His name is Rufus. He actually belonged to my uncle Carlos, but Joe inherited him along with the house.” She gave Nick a thoughtful look. “Did you know my uncle?”

Nick straightened, giving a nod. “I knew him, but not well. One of my buddies, Shane Murray, used to go fishing with him when we were in high school.”

“Did he participate in any of the theater productions?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’m trying to find out more about him. Joe said that our family tree might go back to the shipwreck, and I’m intrigued,” she said with a smile.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of people in town who will be happy to answer your questions. Shipwreck descendants usually find themselves to be popular, especially with the older generation intent on keeping the legends alive.”

“Does your family go back that far?”

“No. My great-grandparents came to Angel’s Bay and built the theater in the nineteen-twenties.”

“If your great-grandparents built the theater, I can see why your family wants you to do the renovation. Tory told me about their plans,” she added.

“Yes, they do want me involved but the theater is probably the last building in the world I’d want to save. It offers up a world of illusion, of make-believe, an homage to pretense. People get lost in that world. They forget it isn’t real.”

She gave him a curious look. “Is that what happened to you, Nick? Did you get lost?”

He started, as if he suddenly realized how much he’d revealed. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Yes. I got swept away by the magic of a summer production fling, and I married an actress who didn’t show me who she really was until it was too late. I should have known better: I’d spent my entire life surrounded by actors, and they were all damn good at playing parts.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was over a long time ago, but being around the theater reminds me of that time in my life.”

“Will you turn down the job?”

“I’d like to,” he said with a sigh. “But I can’t picture my family without the theater. They’re too old to be gypsies. My grandparents are in their eighties. My dad has had some health issues. They need to stay in one place and have that theater functioning for the next decade, at least. But whether or not I’m willing to handle the design issue, they’re going to need to raise a lot of money for the renovation. And dealing with reality has never been their strong suit.”

“But it is yours.”

“It is now. So you’ve signed on to work backstage?”

“Yes, it sounds like fun.” She cleared her throat, his intense gaze sending a flutter through her stomach. “I’ve been working in film, and this will be a nice change of pace.”

“My grandfather told me to watch out for you,” Nick said.

“Why?” she asked in surprise.

“I have no idea, but you certainly rattled him.” He tilted his head as he studied her face. “You have incredible eyes—not quite the blue of the sea or the sky. I can’t figure it out. It’s an unusual color.”

“According to my grandmother, only a few women in our family have had this eye color.” She hesitated a moment. “Legend says that all of them are blessed with the gift of insight, passed down by a Mayan priestess.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s quite a story.”

“According to my sisters, that’s all it is—a lovely story created to make me feel special. And being the youngest of five kids who all excelled at whatever they were doing, it was nice to have some reason to stand out.”

“I can’t imagine that you didn’t always stand out.” His gaze clung to hers, and she felt a tension building between them. “You’re beautiful, Isabella.”

Her heart caught in her throat.

“I should go,” he said, but he didn’t make any effort to move. “This is not . . .” His voice drifted away.

“How you want to feel,” she finished, meeting his gaze head on. “You’re attracted to me, and you’re not happy about it.”

He sucked in a quick breath. “You cut right to the chase, don’t you?”

She had no choice. She needed to get close enough to Nick to find out why she was dreaming about him. “I feel the same pull to you.”

He cleared his throat, his eyes darkening. “Look, Isabella, I’d have to be dead not to be attracted to you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.”

“Then maybe I will,” she said impulsively.

She stepped forward, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him. The coolness of his lips turned to heat the second they touched. She lingered there for a moment, then pulled away, not wanting to push her luck.