One to Love (One to Hold #4) (28 page)

“I’m surprised they kept you inside so long,” I said around a bite of spicy Pad Thai.

He shrugged. “The Universe works in mysterious ways. Things don’t happen when you think they should or in the way you think they should, yet it’s always right for you and your situation.”

I shook my head, lifting the wine glass and taking a sip. Slayde still had a half-bottle in his fridge from the last time we’d been here. I was the only one who drank it.

“I’m amazed I’m not falling apart being here right now.” Clearly the wine had loosened me up. It was a month old and not very good, but I needed something.

“Because you still love him?” Doc’s gaze was pointed.

Not answering that.
“I’m also surprised how direct you can be when you want to.”

He leaned back in the chair, first studying the plate in front of him and then lifting his eyes to mine. “Five years ago, you didn’t know each other, and I’m willing to bet you were both very different people. Yes?”

An image of me at twenty-one flashed across my brain—pale, black asymmetrical haircut, short black skirts over ripped fishnets and boots. “I was a little different. I’ve had a son since then.”

“You’re a mother. That’s good,” he nodded.

“It was actually pretty careless of me,” I exhaled a laugh. “But I wouldn’t take anything for my little boy.”

He picked up his fork and moved a broccoli floret through the brown sauce on his plate. “I was in prison for the same reason as Slayde. High as a kite, I held up a convenience store needing money for more drugs. Clerk pulled a rifle... I don’t even remember killing him I was so wasted.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tried to keep the stony look off my face.

“Oh, it’s alright,” he chuckled ruefully. “I deserve your hatred. I should have died in that cell.”

“Yet here you are.” I thought about Derek’s bitter words to Slayde. He had a reason to be angry at the system. He had a baby boy and a beautiful wife to protect. Shaking that thought away, I put my hand over my eyes. “I think my head’s all messed up.”

“Do you believe people can change?”

For a moment, I pondered that question, trying to decide. “I don’t know.”

“When I met Slayde, he was a different person. He was driven by such rage... I’d never seen anything like it.”

My mind flickered back to the story he’d told me about his dad. It was just as painful to remember now as it had been then. “I guess he had his reasons.”

“I would pray every day.” He paused for another laugh. “I was raised Baptist, so it was all I knew to do. Anyway, I prayed every day the same thing, ‘God help me make up for my wasted life somehow.’” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Slayde would get so pissed at me. Until the day he started asking questions. It all started to change then.”

“He said you helped him.” I circled the base of my wine glass with my finger.

“Slayde wanted to change. Otherwise he would’ve never gotten out.” He was still looking at his plate. “I vouched for him to the parole board. He’s got a good heart, and he wanted to make up for his crimes. I guess they saw something in him worth taking a chance on.”

“That night on the beach, when he saved me...” I couldn’t finish. I could still see his body vibrating with adrenaline in the moonlight, his fists clenching and unclenching. I had no idea the internal battle he was fighting.

“The night you were attacked.” Doc nodded, looking down. “He called me after that. It was pretty significant for him.”

Standing quickly, I pushed the chair aside. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”

I couldn’t sit here and listen to any more of this. My past and his role in it were problems I couldn’t solve. Maybe my soul would always long for his, but it couldn’t be right for us to be together.

Doc stood quickly with me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’ve got to get home. I’m going to see my son tomorrow.” Just like that, I decided on the spot.

“I don’t think it’s an accident that you found each other. Don’t make up your mind so fast on what should happen.”

Shaking my head, I pushed through the door. “Goodnight.”

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W
e made it to Hamburg without any real incidents at sea. A couple stormy nights had me vomiting like a pussy in my toilet, but nothing major cargo-wise. Captain McKinney declared me the ship’s lucky omen, but I knew better. If my life was spared on this voyage, it was only because something crueler was in store for me.

Walking through the market near the docks, I couldn’t stop thinking about Kenny. I didn’t want to miss her as badly as I did, but I knew I’d never stop. She would always haunt my thoughts.

One of the merchants made miniature dolls. Not knowing any German, I couldn’t speak to her, but she demonstrated how the tiny doll in my palm had moveable hands and feet. She had long purple yarn for hair. The part of my brain that wallowed in self-immolation imagined Kenny and me with a blue-eyed baby girl. She would love something like this. I pulled out the few Francs I had and handed them over.

The merchant was overjoyed, but I didn’t know what I’d do with the doll. Its eyes were closed, and it looked so vulnerable in my hand. Something about it reminded me of that night on the beach. I wrapped it in tissue and slid it under my pillow when I got back to the ship.

As I sat with the crew waiting for us to leave port again, headed back for Bayville, I watched the crewman Anders twisting wire into different shapes. He was Finnish, and with a pair of needle-nose pliers, he took a thin piece of silver and twisted it until it was a tiny boat with sails.

“That’s pretty good,” I said, watching him.

“It’s nothing,” he laughed, handing it to me. “For our good luck omen.”

He was something of the ship’s philosopher, and he reminded me a little of Doc. He was also the same joker who liked talking about all the different ways cargo ships could sink.

“Who do you make them for?” I asked, watching him start another.

“Meh,” he shrugged. “Wife and kids, mostly.”

Nodding, I picked up one of the small silver rods and rolled it between my fingers. As he worked, I saw a thin red ring around his thumb. “Did you get caught in the line?”

He inspected his hand. “Oh, no. That’s the Red String of Fate. Chinese legend. It’s for those who are destined to be together no matter time, place, or circumstance—an invisible red string runs from her pinky finger to his thumb.” Turning his hand, he smiled. “It might stretch or tangle, but it can never break.”

My eyes ached and I curled my fingers to touch the little black heart in my palm. “You believe in that stuff?”

“I’m a sailor, mate. I believe in omens, myths, legends, prayers.” His gravelly voice was low when he spoke again. “What’s her name? The girl who has your string? I can see it tormenting you.”

Glancing up at him, I couldn’t find a reason to hide it. “Kenny.”

“She married?” I shook my head, and he poked his lips out. “The Japanese have a word,
Komorebi.
It means ‘The sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees.’ There’s no English equivalent.”

I thought of Kenny’s smile as I watched him continue to twist the silver pin into an infinity knot. He continued working, and after a while, it was a heart. Finishing, he wrapped it around, and it was a ring.

“Here.” Holding it up, he inspected it a few moments. “Tie a red string to this and give it to her.”

With a sad smile, I shook my head. “It’s going to take a lot more than a twisted piece of silver to fix what I did.”

“The red string can never break. Now be our safe omen home.”

* * *

T
he sunlight was too bright hitting the courtyard on that steamy morning, the grass too green. It stung my eyes, and I wiped the back of my hand roughly across my brow, blinking fast.

The older man in the blue cotton tee and matching blue work slacks clapped me gently on the back. “You got this.” Deep lines on his face told of every hard lesson he’d ever learned, and I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever see him again after I walked out those gates.

“I got nothing,” I said, rubbing an inked hand over my diminished midsection. Then I picked up the pack at my feet. “All I’ve got is this. What I brought with me.”

“That’s all anybody ever has in life.” The man gave me a warm smile. His brown hair hung in his brown eyes. It was a style from another era, and the grey at his temples gave away his age. “But you’re ready to pick up your life again. You’re taking what you’ve learned.”

My lips tightened, unable to force a smile. Yes, I’d learned coping skills, how to control the rage in my chest, how to walk away, but I had no life to pick up. Not anymore.

Still, I didn’t want our parting words to be cross. “Thanks, Doc,” I said with a nod.

“Don’t thank me. I only helped you see what was inside you. You had to take the first step.”

The first step.

“Right. Well, take it easy.” I shook Doc’s hand then put one foot in front of the other, slowly making my way to the waiting taxi.

Leaving this place wasn’t like graduating from high school or college. Everyone would look at me differently now. They would question everything, from my trustworthiness to my ability to handle stress. Most wouldn’t even want to be around me. The stigma would follow me wherever I went, and at twenty-six years old, that was going to be a long fucking time.

“Where to?” The cab driver’s voice was wary. Or maybe it was disgusted.

My faded jeans hung a little looser on me now. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the folded map I’d studied for the several days. My eyes had devoured the coastline, reading name after name, trying to decide which one felt right on my tongue.

I imagined living near the ocean would help. I could find a simple, low-stress job—maybe construction or maintenance—and if it all got to be too much again, I could go down to the water, practice the things Doc had taught me. Centering, breathing, green-light the emotions, name them, embrace them, let them go.

My mind had settled on Bayville. It was small and close to what used to be home. One thing about losing everything—it brought a definite sense of freedom.

“Hey!” The driver’s voice was sharp. “You with me? I ain’t got all day. Where to?”

My ice blue eyes flashed, and fear registered on the man’s face. I’d have to adjust to that as well, I guessed. “Bus station.” 

Inside, the taxi smelled like old vinyl and stale cigarettes, and I wondered how many times this stocky, unshaven man in the dirty chambray shirt had driven from here to the Greyhound station. My pack was at my feet as I pulled the heavy metal door closed with a pop and a slam...

I jerked awake in my cot. Something slammed in the boat above me—crews working around the clock. Blinking into the darkness, I tried to get my bearings. It was just a dream.

Only it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. Was it possible to dream memories?

Yes
.

It was the first time I’d dreamed of anything that wasn’t Kenny. That painful thought sliced through my chest. Night after night I closed my eyes and I was in her arms. I’d touch her face, smooth back her dark violet hair, kiss her pale pink lips, hold her against my chest. I could hear her sigh as I sank into her warm depths, feel her legs wrapping around my waist, her fingers in my hair.

I wasn’t sure why I thought climbing into the belly of a ship and sailing to the middle of the ocean would help me forget her. Every morning I awoke to the searing pain of losing her all over again.

Tonight was different, though. Maybe because of the story Anders had told me. The string. I remembered studying that map, looking at every city and thinking about the names. Of all the places to choose, I chose the one that would bring me to her. Did I have any control at all?

Shaking my head, I rolled over in my bed. I didn’t believe in fate or Chinese legends. Yet, here I was, longing for her with every breath. I rubbed my forehead hard and tried to find a way through the pain.

In my mind, I heard Doc’s words.
Without the darkness, you never see the stars.

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T
hanksgiving was four days away, and I’d promised my parents Lane would be with me for the annual Woods’ family gathering. My dad and I had never seen eye to eye, and I didn’t visit them as much as I should. But I tried to get Lane over to see them as often as made sense. It meant a lot to my mom.

Patrick and Derek had found Stuart and were with him in Montana. Something was wrong there, but I hadn’t asked for details. Once Lane and I left, Elaine would fly out to join them for the holiday—or for a conjugal visit, more likely. I knew Patrick.

Lane snuggled in my lap until he fell into a deep sleep. Elaine and I stayed up a bit longer watching the fire and sipping red wine.

She chuckled. “If you’d told me three years ago I’d be sitting by a fire sharing a glass of wine with the mother of my fiancé’s child, I would never have believed it.”

“I guess it is sort of an awkward arrangement.” I still wavered between feeling comfortable and feeling like I should apologize all the time when we were together. Still, I was so thankful Lane was here and not in New York with Aunt Laura. He would’ve been happy living with her, but our lives would be so different. I’d never see him.

“Oh, Kenny!” She sat up straighter, her eyes full of concern. “That’s not what I meant, but even you have to agree life can take some pretty unexpected twists.”

I couldn’t deny that. “Sometimes I feel like the twists are all I get from life. Or the screws.”

Elaine chewed her lip, her green eyes sparkling in the fire. “You and I have never had that kind of relationship, I know. But if you ever want to talk to me... I mean, we are Lane’s two mommies.”

In that moment, I knew why Patrick loved her so much. “Thanks, but I don’t know if I deserve consolation. All the screw-ups in my life can be laid directly at my feet. They’re all because of my choices.”

She looked into her wine glass, and I could tell she was weighing her words. “From what Patrick said, this business with Slayde wasn’t something you chose.” Her eyes flickered to mine, and she quickly added, “Not that we were discussing you. I just... I knew something was wrong when you went a month without visiting Lane. You never do that.”