Lost Wishes (7 page)

I return a few seconds later with the towel and hand it to her. She starts drying her long braid. “You really shouldn’t be out in this weather.” I look out the window and see a quick flash of lightning. “It’s really bad out there.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Did Boatman tell ya? The choppers are all grounded, and there’s a gale warning. That’s a high wind watch. No boats are leaving the dock today, either.”

“No.”
Dammit.
“He didn’t. I haven’t seen him yet today.”

“I ran into Miss Mary on the way here, and she said that she saw him over at Fran’s Tavern.”

“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking,” I grumble more to myself.

“Oh, he’s not drinking,” Twigs says, wiping her neck. “He’s probably gettin’ somethin’ to eat. Boatman don’t drink. Least, not like my mamma did.”

I take a deep breath, not about to crush the poor girl with the truth. “Well, nonetheless, Fallon is a grown man, and as we discussed, he can do as he chooses.”

Twigs drops the towel on the coffee table and places her tiny hands on her hips. “Yeah, but he don’t drink like that, he’s—wait…” Her finger pops up, and she shakes it as she capers into the kitchen to the fridge. She taps the calendar. “Now it makes sense. You saw him drunk the night he brought you here, didn’t you?”

I look at the calendar, and on the day I snuck onto Fallon’s boat, there’s a smiley face with the words ‘Twigs Wuvs You’ on it. Not sure how to answer, I raise my brows and look at her.

“Boatman gets real drunk only a few days a year. On Hope’s birthday, their anniversary—”

“Hope,” I interrupt. “Did you know Hope?”

“Yeah, I met her when I was eight. It was the first time I went into the hospital. She figured out what was wrong with me right away. She taught me all about the diabetes, showed me how to test myself, and do the needles.” Her nose scrunches. “I hate the needles.”

“Hope was a nurse?”

“No. She was a doctor’s helper. Think she called it a PA or something. She used to come here on the weekends to work at the hospital. That’s why Boatman bought this place. He bought it for her, but she never saw it. It was supposed to be a surprise. They used to stay at the hotel, and he’d meet her here dressed in his suits, carrying his briefcase. Boatman smiled all the time back then. He was a lawyer, ya know.”

“No…” I gaze down into her huge brown eyes, the words spewing from her mouth still registering. Fallon in a suit… “I didn’t.”

“He was but after Hope died,” she pulls the calendar from the fridge and flips through it, “I think a part of him died, too. He stopped smiling and no more suits.” She touches another smiley face on the calendar.

“What’s that one for?”

“Oh.” Eyes focused on the calendar, she whispers, “That’s the baby’s birthday.”

“The baby?” My insides cave into one and the heavy ball falls into the pit of my gut.

“Yeah, Hope was pregnant. She didn’t tell nobody though, just Boatman and me. When she got hit by that car,” she looks up with watery eyes, “it pinned her against a tree. It broke her insides. When they told her that they couldn’t fix her or the baby, she asked Boatman to take her home. And he did. He loved her so much, he really did. He was so good to her. He wouldn’t let anybody else take care of her. It took a couple weeks before she…ah,” Twigs trails off.

Each word falling from Twig’s trembling lips slices just a little deeper. Fallon not only lost his wife, but he also lost a child. Going on this assignment, I thought that I could handle Fallon’s tragic past. Get past the sympathy that so many others have for him. My father fucked me up, but he apparently didn’t entirely strip me of the ability to feel compassion. I feel bucketsful for the lost man who’s lost everything important to him.

It now makes sense, after what he’s been through, why he refuses to open himself up for any more wounds. Why he stays hidden away on this island. Sure, he’ll offer his body but getting anything else from the man, impossible. Question is—do I want more from him?

“I’m sorry, Twigs.” I touch her small, bony shoulder. “It sounds like you really cared about her, too.”

“I did.” She wipes the wetness from her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s why I gotta take care of Boatman whether he wants me to or not. I gotta do it for Hope.”

I smile in appreciation of her loyalty. Twigs and Hope must’ve had a strong relationship for this little girl to hang onto it all these years. Three years to a twelve-year-old is like forever. Not to mention, the man she’s had to put up with. Fallon O’Conner is ruthless.  But this girl’s unyielding, and I can see why Fallon can’t shake her.

“Well,” she sniffles and blinks a few times, “I’m gonna head over to Frans’ to tell Boatman about everything being grounded. Jenna got him a room at the hotel last night, but now that no one’s leaving the Island, she said they’re all booked tonight.”

“You can’t go back out there,” I say, not only concerned about Twigs’ well-being, but also worried that I’m stuck here another day. Moreover, where is Fallon going to sleep tonight?

Twigs sets the calendar back on the fridge. “I’ll be okay.” She turns to me with a smile.

“At least wait a bit to see if the storm lets up.”

“It’s not gonna.” She starts toward the door. “I watched the forecast. It’s supposed to be like this till the mornin’.”

 “Okay. I’ll go with you, then.”

“You don’t have to.” She opens the door, the rain streaming in the background behind her small frame. “Really, I’ll be all right.”

“No. I’m going with you.” I grab a hoodie draped over a chair. Yanking it on, I slip on my flip-flops and follow her out the door. For late afternoon, it’s dark. Everything’s a blur. I can’t see anything past fifty feet in front of me.

I keep up with Twigs’ fast, short steps. Like me, she’s in a hurry to get to a dry place. I push the wet hair from my face and then shove both of my hands into the hoodie’s pockets. My wet flip-flops slap upon the soles of my feet. I miss my heels, my pressed suits, and I need my electronics.

Twigs stops, takes a few steps back, looks at me, and laughs.

“What?” I halt. “You think this is funny?” My bottom lip quivers as I try to hold back my own laughter. Two drowned rats walking into the eye of a storm to go after a man who just wants to be left alone.

“Yes.” Twigs giggles. She looks at the ground for a second. Her head pops back up, eyes wide and intent. “Hey, did you get the door out of the lollypop?”

“Huh?” I peer down at her from out of the corner of my eye. “The lollypop? Door?”

Her eyebrows draw together, and she turns to the road. “Where is he?”

“Who?” I walk over to her, but expression flat, she just stares ahead. “Fallon,” I ask.

Twigs starts laughing again, and she looks up at the sky. “Oh, wow.” Neck craned, her small body sways back and forth. “Who put all that candy up there?”

I glance up, but there’s not a star or any candy for that matter in those dark and dreary clouds. I shift back to Twigs; she’s still gazing up at the sky with her mouth open. “Hey.” I touch her shoulder. Her body sways backward. “Twigs!” My fingers grab her arm. I reach around her waist, but she’s going down and I can’t stop her. I try to soften her fall and pull her against me, but we tumble to the ground.

She starts to laugh again. Her hand comes out, and she pats my face. “You’re funny.” Her eyes dart around, her laughter going on longer than it should, and it’s difficult to connect with her.

“Twigs.” I palm her cheeks and force her to face me. Our eyes meet, but it’s as if she can’t see me. “What’s wrong?”

Her arm flies up from the ground. It shakes once, twice, and then violently jerks. Fuck! “Twigs! Tell me what’s wrong with you!” Her body arches as her eyes roll back. I look up, searching for anyone, but it’s just me. Think. Oh, God! What if she’s having some kind of attack, I don’t know much about diabetes, but something’s wrong here. I can’t leave her like this to go get help. Shit. What in the hell am I going to do? I glance up again and spot a dark figure in the shadow of the rain. I jump to my feet and wave my arms. “Help! Help!” The figure moves faster, and the fear in me grabs hold of the sight. It’s Fallon!

“What happened?” He drops to his knees in front of Twigs, brushing the hair from her face.

“I don’t know. She just started laughing and not making any sense.”

He scoops her up from the ground, and we jog back toward the house. “Get the door,” he says, and I run up the stairs to his porch to let them in.

“In the kitchen, the first drawer, there’s a black bag. Get it and bring it to me,” he says, gently placing Twigs on the sofa. I find the bag and bring it to him. He unzips it, and with steady hands, he pulls out a glucose monitor and a lancet. I’ve seen them in commercials, so I know that much.

“Hey, Boatman,” Twigs says, eyes half-closed.

“Hey, kid.” He rips open an alcohol pad and swipes it over her tiny finger.

Twigs’ hooded, glossy eyes move to me. Her forehead wrinkles. “Hope, when did you get here?”

Lancet in hand, Fallon’s body stills. And for the first time, from over his shoulder, he looks at me. “Twigs, that’s not Hope.” His jaw clenches, his eyes slightly narrowing, before he turns back to the little girl. “That’s Katie.”

“I know that, Boatman,” Twigs says just as he sticks her with the lancet. “Ouch!”

“Sorry, kid.” He squeezes her finger until a bead of blood appears. He presses the monitor to it and then sets it down as it registers.

“Hey, I see it, Boatman. Can you,” Twigs says as she stares up at me.

“What’s that, Twigs,” Fallon says watching the monitor.

“Her ‘little special’; Boatman says we all got a ‘little special’ in us, didn’t ya?” She glances at Fallon. “I see Katie’s.” Twigs’ eyes shift back to me. “It’s bright and really pretty. Can you see it, Boatman?”

Fallon’s long lashes raise, and those beautiful hazel eyes find me. “Yeah, kid.” His eye twitches. “I see it.”

The glucose monitor beeps. Fallon turns from me and checks it. “Fuck, forty-six.”

“Not good,” I ask.

“Boatman.” Twigs blinks a few times. “What happened?”

“Your sugar’s low.”

“Shit.” Twigs tries to sit up.

“Yeah, kid, shit. What’d you do, forget to eat?”

“No, I ate!” Her hand comes up, and it starts twitching. She falls on the sofa then sits right back up. Her head tilts, and she inspects Fallon. “Hey, Boatman, where’d you come from?” 

Not making eye contact with me, he turns a bit in my direction. “Can you get a glass of orange juice?”

“Yeah.” I head to the kitchen, thanking my lucky ass that I didn’t drink it all earlier with my breakfast. With shaky hands, I grab a glass, get the orange juice, and fill it. I carry it back to the living room.

“…I told him not to put the quarter in the radio, but Buster, the boy from class, he has nasty breath, and he wears socks on his ears…”

“Here.” I hold the glass out to Fallon, who’s nodding at Twigs as she babbles on, hands flopping as her glossy eyes dart around the room.

“Thanks.” He takes it, not bothering to look at me. “Buster sounds like a strange kid.”

“Oh, he is.” She flips her hands in the air. “Did you know—”

“Hey, Twigs.” Fallon grabs her hands. “Stop talking for a second and look at me.” It works. Her mouth clamps shut, and she looks directly at him. “I need you to drink this.” He lifts the glass.

“No.” She turns away. “I don’t like that!”

“Twigs.” His voice deepens. “Hey, look at me.” She obeys, squinting her eyes at him. “It’s orange juice, and I don’t give a shit if you like it, you’re gonna drink it.”

“Orange juice?” Her head jolts back. “Shit, I need orange juice?”

“Yeah, Twigs, you need orange juice.” He lifts the glass to her mouth. “Now drink it.”

“Okay,” she sighs, grabbing the glass out of his hand and downing it all in a few gulps. When she’s done, she hands it back to Fallon, and he holds it out to me. “Can you refill it?”

“Sure.” I take the glass and like Twigs, I obey. As I’m heading into the kitchen, I hear Twigs saying she’s sorry, and my heart tightens when I hear Fallon’s response.

Chapter Nine

FALLON

“Twigs.” I squeeze her tiny hand. “This shit, it ain’t your fault. It’s just the hand you were dealt. And, sorry kid, it sucks, but you gotta deal with it.”

“I know,” her little nose scrunches, “but it sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” I ruffle her hair.

“Now, don’t you look more yourself,” Katie says as she walks back into the room with a fresh glass of juice in her hand.

“I feel better.” Twigs smiles up at Katie as she reaches for a lancet. “Bet my numbers are better, too.”

I stand up from the sofa, glad she’s testing her sugar. I hate sticking the kid. I wait for the monitor to ding; Twigs looks at it and grins. “Yep,” she holds it up, “eighty-one.”

“That’s good?” Katie’s brow arches as she sets the unneeded glass of juice on the coffee table.

“Real good!” Twigs flashes me a smile, and my insides settle a little. She scared the shit out of Katie and me. When I came upon them in the street, Twigs was my main concern, but a part of me longed to ease Katie’s worry, too.  

“Well then, if you’re up to it, let’s go get you out of those wet clothes.” Katie puts her hand out. “I’m sure Fallon’s got something dry you can put on.”

Twigs takes Katie’s hand and glances over at me. Gotta love her loyalty. “Go with her,” I nudge. “I’ll call Jenna.”

Twigs' eyes fly wide open. “Don’t tell her—” I raise an eyebrow, and she stomps her foot. “Fine, tell her. I don’t care.” She flips her head around and marches off to my bedroom with Katie.

A few minutes later, after I finish my call with Jenna, Katie comes back into the living room in my favorite t-shirt and a pair of my flannel pajama bottoms. The clothes hang on her small frame, but she’s still sexy as hell.

“She fell asleep on your bed while I was in the bathroom changing.”

“That’s okay. The attack probably took a lot out of her. Her sister, Jenna, is on her way to pick her up.”

“Why’d she…” Katie touches the base of her neck. “Fallon, what happened?”