Everything We Keep: A Novel (27 page)

I thought of Ian and how he’d described the pictures he took of his mother when Jackie was the dominant identity. “His name is Carlos,” I murmured. “Jaime Carlos Dominguez.”

“Can I visit him?”

I looked at Nick. “He wouldn’t know you.”

His gaze darkened. “Thomas had us all fooled.” Then his expression turned apologetic. “Sorry about Ray.” He swore. “I can’t get ahold of the bastard.”

I smirked. “I doubt you’ll hear from him again.” Thanks to Thomas, Ray, the PI Nick had recommended I hire to find James, was probably on a small island drinking margaritas, sitting on a small fortune.

In the rear, a small crowd circled around a picture. Shades of yellow and gold peeked over their heads. I excused myself from Nick and moved closer, pushing through the gathering. Then I stilled. It was a picture of me, and I stared as though seeing myself for the first time.

Ian had caught me dancing at Casa del sol. I had let go, feeling the music.

My Caribbean-blue eyes framed in ebony lashes had been sharpened so you couldn’t help but stare into their depths. A mass of brunette curls haloed my head and appeared to dance in the twinkle lights. They sparkled like fireflies and gold dust.

Was this how Ian saw me? The portrait was moving, taken by an artist who didn’t just love the subject of his work. He was
in love
with her. I wanted to weep.

I sensed Ian beside me before I felt him brush against my arm. “She’s beautiful,” he murmured just loud enough for me to hear.

“Ian . . . ,” I started.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered in my ear, making my pulse quicken. “I’ve missed you.”

My eyes stung. “Your pictures are . . .” I shook my head, unable to find words to describe how magnificent his photo work was at this showing. “There are people in your pictures.”

He shifted beside me. “Someone once told me I have a gift. Apparently I’m skilled at capturing the good side of people. I guess I had to accept not everyone has something ugly to hide.” I felt his gaze on me. “You were afraid to let James go, but you did, and I’m willing to bet you’re a stronger person because of it. I went with you to Mexico scared I’d lose you to him. You’d never know how much I loved you. I still—” He stalled, going quiet.

I blindly reached for his hand. He twined his fingers with mine. “Come with me,” he said, and tugged me to a corner, away from the crowd.

“I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t stay with you in Mexico,” I said the moment we were alone.

He wrapped his arms around me. “I understand, Aims. You needed some distance after all you’d been through and I gave you that space, hoping you’d find your way back to me.” His voice caressed my ear. He brushed his lips against the sensitive lobe. Tingles pranced across my skin.

“Laney? Did you find her?” I asked, using the name Ian referred to Lacy. “Any word about your mother?”

“No.”

My face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If she’s alive, I’ll find her. One day.”

“I love you, Ian.” I couldn’t hold the words inside any longer. “I should have told you before—”

He kissed me.

“I love you,” I whispered against his mouth. “But I do have a question.”

He broke off the kiss. “What’s that?” he asked warily.

“Will you have dinner with me?”

He grinned, slow and sexy. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Why, yes, I am.” I grinned.

“Well, in that case, it’s a yes. I’ll have dinner with you, and breakfast the next morning,” he promised as his lips brushed mine. “And every morning that follows.” He kissed me hard, giving me a taste of the future ahead of us. It was the future I wanted.

EPILOGUE

FIVE YEARS LATER

He dreamed about her again. Blue eyes so bright and hot they branded his soul. Waves of brunette curls stroked his chest as she moved over him, kissing his heated skin. They’d be married in two months. He couldn’t wait to wake up with her each morning and love her as his wife, exactly how she was loving him now.

There was something important he had to tell her. Something urgent he had to do. Whatever it was remained elusive on the foggy edges of his mind. He narrowed his focus, honing on the thought until he could . . . 

Protect her.

He had to protect his fiancée. His brother had assaulted her. He’d hurt her again.

He saw his brother, the conviction in his expression. It bordered on insanity. They were on a boat. He had a gun and was making threats. His brother pointed the gun at him and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot, so he dove into the water. The ocean was wild, dragging him under. He felt himself sinking. Bullets sprayed the surface and shot past his head and torso, narrowly missing their mark.

He swam hard and fast, his lungs burning, propelled by the greatest fear he’d ever known. He had to protect her.

Large, powerful waves tossed him against rocky cliffs. Searing pain tore at his face and limbs. The ocean wanted him, but his will to protect the love of his life was stronger. He had to get to her before his brother touched her. The current sucked him below the surface. He floated, drifted. Back and forth, up and down. Then darkness came.

“¡Papá! ¡Papá!”
a small voice squealed.

His eyes shot open. A small child jumped over him, messing the sheets. He looked at the boy, giggling as he leaped around the bed.

“¡Despiértate, papá! Tengo hambre.”

The child spoke Spanish. He racked his brain, delving back to his college Spanish courses. The kid was hungry, and he’d called him “dad.”

Where the hell was he?

He shot upright and backpedaled, slamming against the headboard. He was in a bedroom surrounded by framed pictures. He saw himself in many of the photos but had no memory of them being taken. To his right, windows overlooked a balcony and the ocean beyond.
What the fuck?

He felt the blood leave his face. His body broke out in a cold sweat. The child jumped closer, spinning full circles when he launched in the air.
“¡Quiero el desayuno! ¡Quiero el desayuno!”
the boy chanted.

“Stop jumping,” he croaked, holding up his hands to ward off the boy getting too close to him. He was disoriented. Fingers of panic slithered around his throat. “Stop it!” he yelled.

The child froze. Wide-eyed, he stared at him for two heartbeats. Then he flew off the bed and out of the room.

He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. Everything would return to normal when he opened his eyes. He was stressed—work, the wedding, dealing with his brothers. That had to be the reason. This was only a dream.

He opened his eyes. Nothing had changed. Labored breaths blasted from his lungs. This wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare, and he was living it.

On the bedside table he spied a mobile phone. He picked it up and launched the screen. His heart stumbled as he read the date. It was supposed to be May. How the hell could it be December . . . six and a half years after his wedding date?

He heard a noise at the door and jerked his head. An older boy stood in the doorway, his espresso face pasty.
“Papá?”

He sat up straighter. “Who are you? Where am I? What is this place?”

His questions seemed to frighten the boy, but he didn’t leave the room. Instead, he dragged a chair to the closet. He climbed atop and retrieved a metal box from the upper shelf. The older boy brought the box to him and punched a four-digit code on the keypad. The box’s latch popped open. The boy lifted the lid, then slowly backed from the room, tears streaming down his face.

Inside the metal box were legal documents—passports, birth certificates, a marriage license, along with a death certificate for a Raquel Celina Dominguez. Thumb drives and several data storage discs were tucked at the bottom, along with an engagement ring. He knew this ring. She wore this ring. He held it to the light, staring, uncomprehending. Why wasn’t she wearing his ring?

He returned the ring to the metal box and an envelope caught his attention. It was addressed to him. James. He ripped the envelope open and extracted a letter.

I write this on borrowed time. I fear the day’s coming I’ll remember who I was and forget who I am. My name is Jaime Carlos Dominguez.

I was once known as James Charles Donato. If I’m reading this note without any recollection of writing it, know one thing:

I AM YOU.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Like Aimee’s journey in
Everything We Keep
, my own journey to publishing has been full of twists and turns. It’s been a crazy, exhilarating ride that has brought some of the most incredible people into my life. Thanks to their enthusiasm and expertise and the ongoing support of family and friends, I have the privilege of sharing Aimee’s story with my readers.

I have much appreciation for my agent, Gordon Warnock of Fuse Literary Agency, for taking the time to listen, for his encouragement, and for not giving up. Most of all, I am thankful he found
Everything We Keep
a home. And for Jen Karsbaek, who plucked my manuscript from the slush pile. Thank you for loving Aimee’s story as much as I do.

The entire Lake Union Publishing team has been amazing, especially Danielle Marshall and my editor, Kelli Martin. Thank you for everything you’ve done to make this story shine. I am tremendously grateful. It’s a joy working with you.

Everything We Keep
wouldn’t be the story it is today without my first readers—Elizabeth Allen, Bonnie Dodge, Vicky Gresham, Addison James, and Orly Konig-Lopez—who patiently read revision after revision. Your honest feedback helped make me a better storyteller and writer. And while all this writing was happening, someone had the crazy notion of launching an association. To my cofounders of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, you are my inspiration! We can write books and build a national organization. How fabulous is that?

I have to recognize my parents, Bill and Phyllis Hall. They’ve been my biggest champions since day one, when I announced all those years ago I planned to write a book. Thanks for showing a girl how to dream big.

To my children, Evan and Brenna, thank you for always asking about my books. Don’t ever lose that inquisitiveness. I love to write, but I love being your mother more.

And finally, to my best friend and most patient, adoring husband, Henry, I have so much appreciation for you and everything you do. Thank you for being you.

BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

1. Aimee is caught off guard when Lacy approaches at James’s funeral. Initially, she doesn’t believe Lacy. How would you have reacted in a similar situation?
   
2. On several occasions, Kristen encourages Aimee to open up about her emotions, to talk to someone. Do you think she sensed Aimee was hiding something? Did you suspect Aimee was hiding something?
   
3. Per James’s request, Aimee doesn’t take down the meadow painting, her and James’s special place and the site of Phil’s assault. What does this say about Aimee? Do you think her inability to discuss the incident ran deeper than keeping her promise to James?
   
4. Had James not disappeared, do you think Aimee would have gone through with the wedding? Would their relationship have lasted or would the incident with Phil have come between them?
   
5. What do you think helped Aimee more with her healing? Opening her café or searching for James?
   
6. Imelda describes Lacy as an “enigma.” She remains a mystery to the very end. Both Ian and Aimee interacted with her in their own way. How do you think Lacy connected them in their quest pursuing lost loved ones?
   
7. What was your view of James before the flashback to Phil’s assault? Did it change once you learned how he reacted after the assault?
   
8. What do you make of Thomas’s confession? Were his revelations surprising? Did he really have James’s best interests at heart?
   
9. Do you agree with Aimee that James kept the truth about his relation to Phil secret because he was ashamed? How do you think Aimee would have reacted had James been honest with her from the beginning? Do you think a relationship can last when one person has a deep, dark secret?
   
10. This story has many themes: letting go, healing, forgiveness, and love. Which theme resonated the most with you? Which theme had more impact on the story?
    
11. Until the end, Aimee never removes her engagement ring. What symbolic role does the ring play? How does it connect to the story’s themes?
    
12. The story ends with James coming out of the fugue state. What do you think happens next?
    
13. Aimee’s life changes in many ways she didn’t anticipate—losing her fiancé, opening her café without him, then traveling thousands of miles to find him only to leave him behind—but her journey is internal. How is she different at the end of the story?
    

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2013 Deene Souza Photography

Kerry Lonsdale believes life is more exciting with twists and turns, which may be why she enjoys dropping her characters into unexpected scenarios and foreign settings. She graduated from California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo, and is a founder of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, an online community of authors located across the globe. She resides in Northern California with her husband, two children, and an aging golden retriever who’s convinced she’s still a puppy.
Everything We Keep
is Kerry’s first novel. Connect with her at
www.kerrylonsdale.com
.