Heart's Paradise (17 page)

“Your daughter needs you, Phoebe,” he said aloud.

He’d brought along the bag with the photo, the only one that had mattered, and placed the picture frame beneath her folded hands. Once rescuers had pulled her from the sinkhole, they’d done their best to temporarily stabilize the unconscious woman, giving her fluids and a huge dose of antibiotics before loading her onto the boat. He had an IV stuck in his arm too. An annoyance, but already he felt stronger with the needed fluids. Another day and dehydration would’ve killed him, but his own close call with death didn’t hit him nearly as hard as seeing Phoebe clinging to life.

Phoebe let out a soft moan. She blinked sleepily then looked at him. He met her tired eyes and his heart turned over. “We’re on our way to a hospital,” he told her. She tried to move, but he placed his hand on her shoulder. “No, stay still.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Phoebe’s eyelashes fluttered closed.

“It was a nice vacation while it lasted, eh? Well, except for the falling down a sinkhole part. I could’ve done without that.”

He stroked her hair. Her lips twitched upward as if to smile.

“We have a pizza date once we get to the US I think,” he continued, feeling the need to fill the quiet between them. “Extra pepperoni, extra green peppers, extra olives.”

He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them before dropping a light kiss to her lips. How much longer would she have lasted in the sinkhole? Days? Hours? Minutes? A chill settled inside him, he knew the answer. Jonathon couldn’t imagine life without Phoebe. Once he returned to Dallas, and she to her home in northern California, he’d figure out a way to keep them connected.
Sarah?
If the girl was his, he’d have the right to visitation, but would he have to force the issue with Phoebe?

“You’re safe now, angel,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers, needing to redirect his thoughts. “You’ll be on your feet soon.”

They finally docked. Phoebe was rushed to a waiting ambulance, and despite his arguing, they insisted on transporting him separately. He didn’t need an exam, but at the hospital they checked him head to toe, telling him he’d suffered exposure, dehydration, and malnutrition. All things he already knew.

Afterward, he had to wait until doctors cleared Phoebe for a visitor then lied, telling them he was her fiancé so they’d let him into her room. He found her in a bed, her leg in a huge cast extending around her pelvis. Tubes carrying different fluids ran into her arms, an oxygen tube ran to her nose, a feeding tube to her stomach. He’d been told she had been heavily medicated for pain.

Jonathon took a chair next to the bed and, with nothing else to do, waited, feeling helpless. Hours wore on, and he tried to talk, but his energy lagged. A nurse brought him a tray of hospital food he nearly choked on while wolfing it down. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

After he finished eating, he stood next to Phoebe and took her fingers, careful not to disturb her IVs. “I think I’ve fallen a bit in love with you, Phoebe Heart.” He’d kept it bottled up inside for nearly a week since realizing the depth of his emotion. Saying it out loud lifted a weight off his shoulders. “I know it’s too early to have those feelings, but I can’t help it. You’re special. No, that’s not the right word. You’re incredible, you’re everything, angel. Everything.”

He lapsed into silence, and Phoebe slept on, oblivious. Jonathon dozed in the chair and dreamed he and Phoebe were still trapped inside the sinkhole. It was raining and lightning split the sky again and again like the first night on the island. But this time she wasn’t broken, and she straddled his lap, riding him to ecstasy.

He awoke with her cries still echoing in his ears and a terrible crick in his neck. Lightning flashed around the blinds and thunder filtered through the window. He rubbed the sore spot on the back of his neck, curious how long he’d slept, when he noticed Phoebe was awake. She leveled a druggy gaze on Jonathon.

“Hey, angel,” he said. He stood next to the bed and took her fingers again.

“Hi,” she returned. She licked her lips. He reached over and grabbed a pitcher filled with melting ice. He reached inside, took out a piece of ice, and wet her lips with it. She licked off the water. “Thank you. I feel funny.”

He chuckled. “I hear you’ve got some pretty great drugs pumping in your veins. I say enjoy it while it lasts.”

“What about my leg?” She sounded so tired.

“They had to do surgery to set the break. It’ll take a long time to heal, and you may have a limp.” He stared over her cast. “As soon as you’re stable, we’ll be shipped back to the States.”

She studied his face with heavy-lidded eyes before she smiled. “You don’t have to stay with me. Go home.”

How could he leave her after everything they’d been through? Jonathon squeezed her fingers. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He reached out and stroked her hair back from her forehead. She closed her eyes, let out a soft sigh…and fell fast asleep. He pulled his chair close to the bed, keeping hold of her hand. Wanting to keep this connection with her. On the nightstand sat the photo of her daughter. The little girl with the uncanny resemblance to his sister. And to him. He chewed on his bottom lip. Twelve years ago he’d had a one-night stand, and that girl had been born to this amazing woman.

He rubbed his free hand over his hair. His eyes were gritty from poor sleep, and he had the beginnings of a serious headache. He could go home and forget this whole expedition to the island. Forget about his feelings for Phoebe, and the mystery he’d solved about her daughter. What did he know about kids? Playing the doting uncle was one thing, he loved the role. But being a dad would require a whole set of skills he certainly didn’t possess.

His gaze moved back to Sarah’s picture. Maggie had been such a precocious child, always finding some adventure to get the two of them in trouble with. Did Sarah share some of these traits? Or was she more introverted like her beautiful mother?

He forced his gaze away from the frame and stared at Phoebe’s legs, buried beneath the sheets and thin blanket. The room was a bit hot, but she needed the extra warmth. The doctors feared pneumonia, and even Jonathon had developed a hacking cough.

* * * *

The ride wasn’t an unpleasant one as he kicked back, listening to the hum of the plane engines. His father had hired a private jet to bring both him and Phoebe home to Texas. She would stay at a hospital in Austin another week until she was strong enough to make the trip back to California. Jonathon stretched out on the sofa, relaxing for the first time since before Phoebe’s accident. He’d had a decent meal on the plane, and Phoebe slept in a hospital bed nearby.

He thought of his wild life of parties, women, and more parties with women. What kind of role model would he be for an eleven-year-old girl? For Uncle Jon it was fine, but for Daddy Jon? He rubbed his freshly shaven face then sipped a cold bottle of water.

And who knew, perhaps she already had a father figure in her life. If so, he certainly wouldn’t want to upend this girl’s life so he could play the half-assed Dad role. They’d live across the country from one another for God’s sake. If he had a kid, he’d want to be a bigger part of their life than emails, online chats, and a few yearly visits. Not to mention, what if Phoebe wasn’t open to the idea of letting him waltz into Sarah’s life? After all, he himself had doubts about his parenting ability.

He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned before standing up and heading to the bar. He poured himself a shot of whisky, gulped it down, and poured another and made short work of it as well. His third glass, he took back to the sofa. He turned on the TV, letting a movie play in the background, though he left the sound off so it wouldn’t disturb Phoebe.

Her color had returned, and she no longer held an aura of death. A woman with so many secrets—secrets that had changed his life forever.

Chapter 18

It seemed she’d slept for a year when Phoebe finally forced her puffy eyelids open. The glare of light made her eyes tear up and she blinked, focusing on the stark white walls of the hospital room. She’d resisted any more of the heavy pain killers that’d left her drugged up, but they’d kept an IV in her arm available, leaving it up to her to hit the button to dose herself. The pain crashed into her moments after she woke up, and her thumb wavered over the button.
I gave birth to a nine-pound baby without an epidural, so I can do this.

She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, trying the Lamaze technique that had done little to help her during labor. It did little to dull her pain now, and she silently cursed her old Lamaze coach. Cold sweat broke out on her brow, and she grew sick to her stomach.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay, baby.”

Phoebe opened her eyes to find a hazel gaze framed by pale blonde hair hovering over her. The pain waned a bit with the happiness she felt seeing those familiar eyes with too much eyeliner. “Mom.”

Cybil stroked her hair. “Yes, I canceled the rest of my tour as soon as I heard.” She leaned down and kissed Phoebe’s forehead. The sweet aroma of her pricey perfume overwhelmed Phoebe’s nose. She barely suppressed a gag.

“You’ve traded up again,” Phoebe said with a smile. Cybil’s huge boobs were barely contained by her wrap top. Every few years she got new ones, and it’d become a running joke between them.

Cybil giggled like Sarah. “Yeah, they distract from my crow’s feet.”

Like her mother would allow even one line to mar the creamy complexion she’d paid so much money for.

Several nurses milled outside the door, talking in hushed voices, eyeing Cybil. “I think you have some fans,” Phoebe said.

Cybil looked over her shoulder.

“Go on, Mom, your public awaits.” Her perfume was becoming more than she could handle.

“I’ll be back soon.” Cybil patted her cheek then disappeared into the growing group outside the door.

Phoebe noticed a big bouquet of flowers had been left in her room alongside a giant teddy bear. They were new. Since arriving at the hospital, she’d spent days in and out of consciousness. The whole time she’d thought Jonathon had been with her, but since refusing the painkillers, he’d disappeared. He’d only been a dream.

Outside of the colorful flowers and stuffed animal she was alone. She needed a phone to call Sarah. She vaguely recalled a brief conversation with her after landing in the US. Her daughter had started crying, but she’d assured her she’d be home as soon as possible. More than anything Phoebe wanted her there. Nothing would make her feel better than to hold Sarah in her arms again, and hear her non-stop happy chatter.

Her head throbbed, the side effect of coming off her medication, but her leg felt even worse. Sharp stabs of pain shooting through her thigh competed with the irritation of the cast. It itched.
Fuck, does it itch!
Phoebe clawed at the cast, her eyes watering, wishing she could scratch at least fifty different places under it.

“Mommy!”

Startled, Phoebe’s gaze jumped to the doorway. Her daughter charged toward her, smiling broadly, arms out. Phoebe held her breath, but luckily Sarah didn’t jump onto the bed. “Sweetie? What… How?”

Behind her, Barb waved. “We just flew in,” her friend said.

“Mom, we got to fly in a private jet!” Sarah bounced up and down on her toes. Her eyes found the teddy bear, and Phoebe grinned.

“You can have the bear,” she told her daughter, despite not knowing the donor, though she had a pretty good idea. Cybil always bought her teddy bears when she was sick as a kid, and she’d passed the collection to Sarah. She gave her daughter a curious look. “A private jet? From Grandma?”

Barb looked uncomfortable. “Your island partner sent it to us to fly out here. I didn’t want to turn him down. Your mom offered a first class flight but we already had the jet, and Sarah didn’t want to wait another few days to use your mother’s tickets.”

A private jet cost an arm and a leg, and another arm on top of that. How would she ever pay Jonathon back for something like that? It wasn’t her nature to accept expensive gifts, and though her mother could certainly fly them all over the world on first class Phoebe chose to fly coach when needed. Looking into her daughter’s eyes made it hard to begrudge Jonathon for his generosity, and Sarah’s infectious energy washed through her, giving her more strength than she’d felt in weeks. With Barb’s help, she managed to get the bed up into a seated position.

Sarah gushed over the jet. “They even made me a banana split, Mom!”

She’s grown again, Phoebe realized. Or maybe Phoebe was finally accepting the hints of adulthood she saw in Sarah’s face. Her chubby cheeks were thinning down, her cheekbones higher, her child’s expression taking on a more serious look.
God, she’ll be stunning. How will I ever keep the boys away?

Barb’s expression reflected Phoebe’s discomfort over the private jet, though she kept a serene face so she wouldn’t hurt Sarah’s feelings.

“Was it only the two of you on the plane?” Phoebe asked, when her daughter paused for a breath.

“Yes,” Barb said. “Just us.”

“I hope you don’t mind they came out.”

The baritone voice snapped Phoebe’s gaze to the door. A pair of smiling gray eyes looked over the scene. When Sarah turned toward their visitor, and Jonathon’s gaze settled on her face, she saw his sharp intake of breath, and his easy smile slipped from his lips. His mouth dropped open.

Exactly what Phoebe hadn’t wanted, not like this. The two worlds she hadn’t been prepared to see collide did exactly that, and she couldn’t do a thing about it. Barb’s eyes widened as she stared between Sarah and Jonathon. She shot Phoebe a curious gaze, but said nothing over the uncanny resemblance.

“Hi,” Sarah said to Jonathon, having never known a stranger. She looked back to Phoebe, sensing the tension. Two pairs of uncertain eyes, the same shade of silvery gray, waited.

She won’t see it—the resemblance. I can let this go…
But one look at Jonathon’s face told her he’d expect answers, and all Phoebe could think of were lies. Lies she could tell to protect her daughter, and selfishly, herself. She glanced at Barb, her longtime friend’s wide eyes concealed nothing. She knew Sarah’s father as a dead-end college fling.