IAN
“What did she tell you?”
“How did you find her number?” I ask at the same time.
Seven years ago, Aimee had tried locating her number with no success. She even hired a private investigator. Lacy never kept her numbers for long and seemed to constantly be on the move. She disconnected the number on her card immediately after we finished our call. So how did Aimee find it this time?
Aimee’s gaze slides to the door. She stands, rinses out the cloth, and folds it over the lip of the basin. I push off the floor, feeling slightly woozy, but better than a few moments ago. I don’t think I have food poisoning, though my stomach reacted to something. I grab my toothbrush and squirt on a strip of paste.
Aimee moves aside so I can use the sink. “Lacy mentioned that she spoke with you. She wants us to meet her at your dad’s house on Tuesday.”
I tilt my head back so I don’t drool foam when I say, “That’s why I left early. I wanted to get the assignment done before meeting Lacy. It wasn’t because of Reese.”
I spit out the paste, rinse my mouth, and tell her what happened.
After her text about Kristen being in labor, I drove home from the gym to shower before heading to the hospital. And there was Lacy’s card, right beside my keys where I’d dropped them on the table by the door. I figured, what did I have to lose from punching a set of numbers into my phone?
The phone rang and I moved into the kitchen for a Red Bull. Long night ahead, what with Kristen being in labor and all. I expected to get the “This number has been disconnected and is no longer in service” recording and be on my way. But Lacy answered the phone.
“Hello, Ian,” she’d said.
The back of my neck prickled. My pulse took a shot of adrenaline like a junkie. At the sound of her voice, I had an all-around bad-vibe feeling. “Why did you want me to call?”
“You’ve been looking for me.”
“That was five years ago.” Personal data is more accessible on the Internet than it was five years ago. I also had the funds now to hire a private investigator, assuming that’s what I wanted to do. “I don’t need you like I once thought I did.”
“Maybe not, but you do need to listen to what your father has to say.”
My father? The prickles on the back of my neck scampered like cockroaches across my shoulders. What did my dad have to do with Lacy? She was as much a mystery to him as she’s been with me. “I haven’t spoken with him in years. I doubt he has anything to say to me.”
“He will.”
I glanced at the kitchen clock. It was getting late. Aimee was waiting for me at the hospital. “Unless you have something to say, I’m hanging up.” What a waste of time.
“I’m not wasting your time, Ian, so don’t waste mine. Tuesday is a good day. It’s my favorite day of the week. Mondays are the worst. Everyone’s cranky and wants it to be Friday. But Tuesdays? People are more generous on Tuesdays. They give more to charity and they spend more money at stores. The stock market does very well on Tuesdays, too. We vote on Tuesdays. Change happens on Tuesdays. It also has cheaper airfares. I’ll be at your dad’s house on Tuesday. You should come, too.”
“I can’t. I’ll be on assignment.” The most important assignment of my life. Idaho is the last place I want to go.
“That’s too bad. I have news of your mother.” She hung up.
I blinked, pulled the phone away from my ear to confirm she’d ended the call. She had. I immediately redialed. It rang continually. I tried again after I showered. The phone rang; then it answered. “This number has been—” I disconnected.
“I called the airline to see if I could get a flight that night and then called Al. He signed off on me moving up the trip, so I decided I’d go to Spain and get the assignment done before meeting up with Lacy,” I say to Aimee. “It hit me then why I’d been so irritable with you these past months.”
“That’s understandable. James threw us both for a loop.”
“What happened last June hurt, I’m not going to lie. But there’s more to what I’m feeling and it’s not easy for me to admit.” I stop and take a moment, lightly knocking my knuckles on the sink counter.
“What is it?” Aimee asks.
I take a breath. “I’ve resented you.”
“Me?”
I nod. “I envied your bravery. You faced your worst fear when you found James after you thought he died. You not only let him go and moved on, you forgave him. You’re a much better person than me.”
“Don’t say that, Ian. Don’t think so little of yourself. Look at you and your success. You’ve come so far considering what happened to you.”
I shrug. “It’s how I feel. And I can’t keep living this way. I need to put the anger and resentment I feel toward my dad behind me, and I need to deal with my guilt about my mom. That’s why I’m meeting with Lacy. I don’t know what I’m going to find out from her and I’ve got no clue what’s up with my dad, other than my gut telling me something is wrong.”
“And you always follow your gut.”
“I trust that sucker,” I say with a half smile. “I moved up my assignment so I could be in Idaho by Tuesday. Lacy’s favorite day of the week.”
“She’s an odd woman.” Aimee shakes her head, incredulous. “Have you tried reaching your dad?”
“I called him during my layover. He hasn’t called back.” My eyes search hers, so blue and vibrant despite how tired I know she is. “Why are you here? What about the café and your deadlines? You could have called me about Lacy.”
She skims her hands under the unzipped flaps of my hoodie and pushes it off my shoulders. I let her tug the sleeves down my arms. The hoodie drops to the floor. “A long time ago, there was this girl and she was sad. She had lost her fiancé and was desperate to find him. But there was this other boy who loved this girl very much. So much that he traveled to the ends of the world to help her search for the fiancé she thought was her true love.” Aimee lifts my shirt. I raise my arms and she pulls it over my head. The shirt lands on the sweatshirt. Cool air hits my torso and my skin puckers.
“What happened to this boy and girl?” I rasp, my eyes fixated on her fingers as she unbuttons her blouse.
“This girl found her fiancé, but he’d changed. The girl had to let him go, not because he changed, but because she’d grown up during his absence. Now a strong and independent woman with a clear head, she saw the imperfections in their relationship and acknowledged the damage they’d done. But in finding herself, she discovered she loved the boy as much as he loved her.” She parts her blouse, exposing the black lace bra underneath. I groan.
“You’re so beautiful.”
The blouse floats to the floor. “Five years ago, you dropped everything to help me search for James. I want to do the same for you. I want to help you find your mom.”
I steal a kiss from her and it tastes like heaven. My heaven. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Ian. You’re my husband. We’re a family. You don’t have to do everything alone anymore.”
I clasp her head, my fingers threading through her hair, pressing into her scalp. Emotion squeezes my chest. “I thank God every day you walked into Wendy’s gallery and into my life,” I say against her lips, my voice gravelly. I kiss her hard, and when I come up for air, my forehead pressed against hers, our breath hot and mingling, I ask her about Caty.
“She’s fine. She’s with my parents. They’ll watch her as long as we need them to.”
“And the café? Your plans?”
Aimee moves from my arms. “Can we talk about that over dinner?”
“Sure,” I say, somewhat hesitant. “Everything OK?”
She smiles winsomely. “Everything’s perfect. I’ll tell you about it, but after I shower.” She points at herself. “Travel scum.”
I tap my chest. “Hiking scum. Shower with me.”
She winks seductively, sending a zap of electricity straight to my center. “I thought you’d never ask.” She shimmies from her jeans and I’m instantly on fire for her. She’s wearing it, that swatch of lace that matches her bra and covers nothing.
I shove down my jeans and briefs and flip on the shower. Ice-cold water sprays the tiled walls. I rope an arm around her waist and haul her into the stall with me. She screams, ice water sluicing over her head and down her back.
“You jerk.”
“You love this jerk.” I laugh against her mouth, reaching behind her to adjust the water temperature. I unclasp her bra.
“More than words can say.”
She kisses me and before I know it, I’m at a complete loss for words.
After we’ve showered and dressed and before we leave the room, I clasp Aimee’s shoulders. “Are we good here?” I point from her to me. “About what happened between me and Reese?”
Aimee bites into her lower lip and her gaze turns inward. Then she nods. “I think so. Though, don’t expect me to be nice to her,” she says with a frown.
“After the stunt she pulled, you can be as nasty as you want.”
She holds up her fist for a bump. “Deal. And, Ian? I do forgive you for not telling me about Reese.”
I cradle her face and press my lips to her forehead, my eyes drifting closed. “And I forgive you.”
“For what?”
I lean back and look down at her face. “For last summer, with James. In my head, I forgave you the moment you told me, but I never said it out loud to you. I’m sorry.”
Aimee closes her eyes and nods. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I kiss her lips, gently, lovingly. “We’re good together.”
She smiles. “Yes, we are.”
I grin and open the door, standing aside to let her through. “Let’s go eat. I think we’ve earned ourselves a warm meal.” Alone, I hope, without Reese dining alongside us. I’d lost my lunch today. I didn’t need to lose my dinner, too.
We walk to the inn’s restaurant. When we pass the pool, I reach for her hand to stop her. She turns into me, chest to chest, and looks up. Wood smoke fills the air and the clouds have moved on. An obsidian sheet swathed in stars glistens overhead. Dishes clatter in the kitchen yards away and the colorful notes of a classical guitar ride the night air from an open window. Other than that, the countryside is quiet, settled in for the night.
“The sky is unreal,” Aimee says. “I have to get out of the city more. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen so many stars.”
I hum, transfixed by the reflection of starlight in her eyes. She looks at me and I give my head a virtual shake before I get sappy and drag her back to our room.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier. How did you get in touch with Lacy?”
Aimee lets go of my hand and backs away a step. I frown. That’s not a good sign.
“Aimee?”
“Yeah . . . um.” She twists her hands together. “I didn’t find her. Thomas did.”
My head snaps back. “You got Thomas involved?”
“James told me a little about how Thomas kept him hidden in Mexico. There’s no doubt in my mind Thomas has connections. I figured if anyone could find a working number for Lacy, he could.”
“So you called him.” My tone has a hard edge.
“I met with him at his office.”
White-hot rage plummets through me, coursing through my limbs like molten steel. Every part of me burns. I’m angrier than I’ve been in a long time, more than I felt toward Reese earlier or at James for kissing my wife. I inhale, nostrils flaring and lungs filling to capacity, and then I release a rope of the most unsavory, foul language I’ve probably spewed in Aimee’s presence. Her eyes go camera-lens round and she backs up. Looking around, she moves her hands up and down, urging me to lower my voice.
I can’t look at her. I turn around and walk away.
“I’m sorry, Ian, but I figured Lacy had something urgent to tell you and I didn’t know who else to go to in such a short time.”
Her apology rips me apart inside. Hands on hips, I turn to her. “Good God, Aimee. I’m not upset with you. It’s me. I’m angry with myself. You went to see him because of me. I put you in that position. After everything he’s done to you.” Just thinking about Thomas makes her physically sick. “God, I’m sorry, baby. I should have told you about James and Lacy.”
“Yes, you should have. But it’s done and I survived. And get this, Lacy’s real name is Charity Watson.”
The name ripples through my head, its touch familiar, but unplaceable. “Thomas told you this?”
“Do you remember the café’s soft opening and how I thought it weird that Thomas ended our conversation and left like that?” She snaps her fingers. “He’d seen Lacy in Mexico with Imelda. Then he sees her at my café. He dug around a bit and found out who she really is.”
“I bet he threatened her.”
“Most likely. That’s probably why she shipped James’s painting rather than try meeting up with me again. Anyway, Thomas knew her legal name. That’s how he found her so quickly.”
“I’m surprised he agreed to get it for you.”
“I was, too, but I think he feels guilty about everything he’s done. It’s eating him alive. He looks horrible. I almost feel sorry for the guy.”
“Almost?”
“Like this much.” She holds her index finger and thumb a quarter inch apart. “The number is to a landline. Lacy lives in New Mexico with her granddaughter.”
I pull Aimee into my arms and kiss her. “Thank you for doing this for me.”
“I didn’t think twice, and I did it for us. We’re in this together, Collins. Now feed me. I’m hungry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I link my fingers with hers, our hands swinging as we walk. I look askance at her. “Thomas and Nadia, eh?”
Aimee waves her hand in dismissal. “Don’t get me started. But yeah, she’s working on a project for him. And I got the impression from both of them it’s more than business. She’s on my bad-friend list right now.”
“Then we won’t talk about her.” I kiss her cheek.
Alex seats us at a table under a window and immediately serves us the night’s meal, salted pork shoulder with local greens and chickpeas.
“Are you serious about pulling from this assignment?” Aimee asks, cutting into her pork.
I set down my knife and fork and lean forward, my forearms on the edge of the table. “When Reese was a kid, she had a neighbor who neglected his dogs. He kept them tied up in the front yard.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It traumatized her. She’s taken it to the extreme and doesn’t keep pets because of that. She’s also opposed to animals being penned for whatever reason, but more so when the conditions aren’t ideal.”
“She doesn’t see the Rapa as ideal?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“How many horses are placed inside the arena?”
“Two hundred and for less than two hours. It’s for the safety of the horses, and it’s the fastest way the villagers can attend to them. They get the greatest number wormed in the shortest amount of time without causing too much stress to the animals and more extreme injuries to the handlers. The horses are wild. Given space to move, the vaccinations would never get done. They’d get sick and weak. The herds would eventually die off.
“The way Reese has been talking, I don’t know . . .” I push food around my plate. “I’m concerned her bias will come across in the article. I don’t want negative press. That’s not what I signed up for. The villagers are passionate about their herds. The Galician horses are a rarity to them and the Rapa is an astounding event steeped in history and tradition. I want to share that through my photos, and I was hoping whoever wrote the article would express that.
“Reese was at the Rapa this past summer. She had to leave in the middle of it. She couldn’t handle it. I took her up the hill today hoping she’d see they’re free the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.”
“You haven’t seen them since you got here?”
I shake my head and put down my fork, appetite gone. “Tomorrow’s my last chance, and after what happened out there this evening”—I tilt my head toward the lobby—“and on our hike today, I doubt she’ll want to go with me. We came across a dead foal.”
Aimee chews her food, thinking. “We have three more days before we have to be at your dad’s house. You’ve come too far to give up. Text Reese’s Pieces and apologize.”
I laugh at the nickname. Then I laugh at the logic behind her suggestion. “You want me to apologize to her?”
“Yes, because you’re going to be the mature one in this disagreement. You’re also not going to let her, of all people, come between you and your dreams. Come on, Ian, National Geographic! Your photo could be on the cover.” She stabs a chunk of pork, bites it off her fork, and grins.
“Is this your version of a pep talk?”
“It is, because you’re taking us both. I want to see these magnificent Galician horses.”
“Tomorrow ought to be interesting.” Not awkward at all. I aim my index finger at the ceiling. “One condition. I’ll give it another day. I’ll ask Reese straight out what she plans to write. If I don’t want my name in the byline, I’m calling Al and pulling out.”
We finish dinner and afterward the cook invites Aimee into the kitchen to discuss Galician recipes and local delicacies. “Don’t be surprised if I add a few Spanish items to one of my seasonal menus,” she tells me.
I grimace. Please, no octopus.
“Dinner was amazing,” she says.
Dinner was amazing. Because Reese wasn’t here.
I draft a text to her that I’m leaving early in the morning on the same trail. One more shot to find and take shots of the herd.
I review the message, then swallow the maturity pill Aimee prescribed.
Sorry about earlier. No hard feelings. Let’s make this work.
Satisfied, I send it off.
“Ready?” Aimee’s back. She rests a hand on my shoulder.
“Yep, let’s go.” I push up from the table and we leave the restaurant, my hand on her lower back. “We didn’t talk about the café during dinner,” I say as we walk to the room. “What’s going on with the expansion?”
“It’s not.”
“No?” I look down at her face, trying to read her expression.
“You were right about what you said earlier. I’ve lost sight of why I opened a restaurant in the first place. I’ll admit, the idea of having three locations seemed cool. It was like I’d made it. I was better than Starbucks and Peet’s because I’m thriving where other indies are closing. But what I really want is to be back in the kitchen. I want to bake for my favorite customers and concoct new recipes.” She stops and I turn to her. “I don’t want to be stuck in an office, running numbers and paying bills and managing three times the staff I currently have.”
“Are you sure? You aren’t doing this because I’ve been complaining?”
“You mean whining?”
I lean back, appalled. “I don’t whine.”
Aimee laughs. “No, you don’t. You’re very good at keeping me grounded.”
“We balance each other.”
“Yes, I love that about us. Because there’s something else I want.”
“Anything.” I’d give her the stars and the moon, the whole freaking solar system.
“You and I both grew up as only children. I don’t want that for Caty.” She inhales deeply and grins. “I want us to have another baby.”
My heart sinks and my shoulders drop.
She bounces on her toes and smiles so big because she can’t contain her grin. I immediately wrap her up in my arms and bury my face in her hair. Because I can’t smile with her. Not yet.
For the moment, I just hold her.
“Ian?” She wiggles in my embrace. I detect the note of uncertainty in her voice and my chest clenches. “You do want another child, don’t you?”
I loosen my arms and clasp her face. My thumb skims her upper lip, a caress. Her eyes search mine. “What’s wrong?”
“I do want to have more kids. But let’s talk about this when we get home. Right now . . .” I stop and swallow roughly. “Right now . . .”
Her eyes close and she nods rapidly. “I get it. It’s too much at once. I should have waited. I’m sorry for bringing it up. It’s just . . .”
“No, no, don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. Let’s get through the next few days. Then we’ll talk.” I kiss her forehead, then her nose and her lips. She looks so dejected and it breaks my heart to put off this discussion. But how can I return home and be the man my family needs—the one I committed to be when Aimee told me she was pregnant with Caty—when the mistakes I’d made in the past are still festering within me? I fear I’d only make more.