Island Affair Read online

  Translation, had he talked to his younger brother. Tried to make amends. Something she prayed for every day.

  Anger and disillusion slithered through Luis’s chest, a two-headed viper he couldn’t seem to slay.

  Why should he be expected to extend the olive branch?

  Enrique was the one who had lied. Withheld the fact that Luis’s fiancée had propositioned him during a group beach party at Bahia Honda. Or that he and Mirna had hooked up once in Miami. Supposedly before Enrique knew Mirna and Luis were an item. Convenient excuse.

  That made Enrique the one with a problem. Along with Mirna, who had only confessed her unfaithfulness as she lay in a hospital bed barely clinging to life. After fighting with Enrique at the beach party, she’d made the ill-fated decision to get behind the wheel intoxicated. Luis’s brother had done nothing to stop her.

  Another strike against him.

  “Your silence answers my question about your younger brother. As for you, I know my son. Fine? Por favor, no me mientas,” his mami scolded.

  “I’m not lying.” Hunching over, Luis propped his chin on top of her head, dodging the tight bun that held her shoulder-length hair out of her round face. “It’s all good.”

  “How? It is not good being forced to change your Kelly day, ordered not to come around the station for the whole week. ¿Verdad?”

  Yeah, she was right, a move like this would look bad if it went on his record. But his captain had stipulated this time off as an alternative to some type of official measure. Something they both wanted to avoid.

  Heaving a sigh, Luis reached over to pump the clear plastic soap dispenser when his mami lifted her rubber-gloved hand under the spout. The green liquid pooled to the size of a dime on the yellow scrubbing sponge.

  He hadn’t liked it yesterday when the Captain laid down his edict. But today . . .

  Strange how a guy’s outlook could change in the span of twenty-four hours.

  Since the Captain’s move freed Luis up to spend time with Sara, he now viewed the forced time off as a serendipitous twist of fate.

  Not that he planned on sharing his change of perspective with his mom. Or Carlos, who apparently had dialed the Mami 911 line after Luis had stormed out of the airport fire station yesterday. The bigmouth claimed he wanted to warn their mami that Luis was pissed and might need some distracting this coming week.

  Oh, he’d found a way to distract himself all right.

  More like someone.

  A charismatic, sexy-as-hell woman with a sense of humor that sparked his own laughter and a secret he was determined to un-root. If only to make sure she was safe on his watch.

  A woman who’d kept him awake late into the night after he dropped her, Jonathan, and Carolyn back at the rental and drove the ten miles up the Keys to his place in Big Coppitt.

  When he’d finally fallen asleep, Sara had invaded his dreams like a sexy marauder on the high seas. Enticing him with her infectious smile. Drugging him with the citrusy scent that clung to her soft skin. Driving him crazy with her sweet lips he ached to sample.

  “¿Qué vas a hacer?” his mother asked, dashing the montage of Sara-themed images that had his pulse pounding.

  “What am I going to do about what?”

  “About work? Will you go talk to the Captain or the Watch Commander?”

  “I’m not going to do anything.”

  Pressing a kiss to his mami’s temple, he felt the sheen of perspiration glistening on her skin and moistening her hairline. Between the steam rising from the dishwater and the hot flashes she complained about, the poor woman looked like she’d just finished one of those crazy hot yoga classes his sister raved about.

  “What is it you always tell me?” he continued. “What’s done is done. I can’t fight the Captain over this. And honestly, I don’t want to.”

  “¿De veras?”

  “Yeah, it’s the truth.” He drew the sign of a cross over his heart.

  “¿Por qué?” His mami’s all-knowing narrow-eyed stare, the one feared by neighborhood kids and her own in particular, underlined her sharp “why?”

  He hated lying, but no way could he share the truth with her. Like a Florida crawfish scurrying back in its hole to avoid capture, Luis spun away to snag the dish towel hanging on the refrigerator door, avoiding her wily gaze.

  Lydia Quintana de Navarro possessed a sixth sense when it came to her kids. Little got by her unnoticed. Good luck if you were trying to pull a fast one on her. No question, she’d catch you. Growing up, Carlos and Enrique had faced countless chancletazos to prove it.

  Equally as powerful, her devout prayers seemed to have a direct connection to heaven. Or maybe it was the number of candles she lit each week after mass that made such a huge smoke signal, no way could the good Lord ignore her. What really mattered was if Luis’s mami added you to her daily prayer list, you couldn’t help but feel you had a fighting chance.

  When he worked his shifts at the station, Luis counted on those prayers. But today, with the secret he withheld from her, that keen parental radar of his mami’s had him on red alert.

  Turning his back on her penetrating gaze, Luis strode to the round breakfast table by the window overlooking their backyard and canal. Outside, his papi bent over a boat engine propped up on a sawhorse where the edge of the green lawn met their property’s concrete seawall on the canal. The engine cover had been removed to leave the motor exposed for repairs.

  Always tinkering on something, that man. As a kid Luis had followed in his papi’s footsteps. Asking questions, serving as an extra pair of hands for whatever his papi needed. Learning everything about boating and fishing and living a life on the ocean from the man who’d always been his hero. On the job and off.

  Papi had been quiet over breakfast. But Luis knew, if asked for advice, his old man wouldn’t sugar coat his thoughts. At the same time, he’d let Luis, all the Navarro kids, make their own decisions.

  Pushing one of the old wooden chairs closer to the table, Luis answered his mami’s question. Carefully sticking to the truth as much as possible. “I’m not going to fight the time off because the more I dig in, arguing that there’s nothing wrong with my state of mind since we responded to that car accident last month, the more Captain Turner pushes back. If I have to go along with this to convince him I’m fit to pull my weight on the team, so be it.”

  “And are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Fit, mentally, with everything.”

  His knee jerk reaction was to answer in the affirmative.

  Since Carlos’s kick-in-the-ass pep talk yesterday, then meeting Sara and getting swept up in something he had to admit had become bigger than simply helping someone, Luis wasn’t as sure anymore.

  Through the window, he watched his papi rotating a spark plug wrench with his left hand. He paused to wipe a dirty rag over the engine part, then rotated the wrench again. A normal task Luis had watched and participated in countless times over the years. Only, today, he didn’t feel like his normal self. He felt both off-kilter and energized, uncertain if that was good or not. Unwilling to question it.

  Behind him, the kitchen faucet shut off. A cabinet door creaked open, then clattered closed. That would be his mami putting her rubber gloves in the plastic basket under the sink.

  A quick check of his sports watch told him he should be leaving in less than five if he planned to make the twenty-minute drive to Sara’s place and arrive by nine thirty. Last night her family had decided to ride the Conch Tour Train today. The seventy-five-minute loop winding through the island streets treated patrons to the highlights of Key West history and lore courtesy of the drivers running monologue. Even though he’d grown up on the island, Luis had actually never ridden the tourist train or the trolley. He was actually looking forward to the activity.

  Who was he kidding? The chance to spend the day with Sara was what had him jumping out of bed like his nephews on Christmas morning. Not some historical ride around the three-by-
five-mile island in a yellow and black open-air train on wheels.

  His mami’s Kino sandals slapped against the mottled cream tile, signaling her approach.

  “I worry about you, mijo.” She covered his hand with hers on the chair’s curved backrest. “Anamaría and your papi walked me through that call. How you tried to calm the poor girl’s fears while she was trapped inside her car. Talking with her as the others struggled with the Jaws of Life.”

  Her hand tightened over his and a stinging, sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach warned him what was coming.

  “Having her die in your arms must have been horrible. I know you, mijo. I see the way you’ve always taken on another’s pain.”

  Luis closed his eyes, trying in vain to erase the image of the college student’s mangled car. The front windshield shattered by the aluminum ladder that had poked out of the truck bed and wound up inside her front seat after she rear-ended the other vehicle. Her straight, black hair sticky with blood. The trickle oozing from her left nostril, dark red against her pale skin. Her hazel eyes pleading with him for help. Her wheezy gasps of breath as she brokenly begged him to call her parents.

  “Every single one of us who answered that call was affected by her death,” he rasped. “It was senseless and stupid. Avoidable.”

  “Just like Mirna’s.”

  “Don’t!” Pulling his hand from under his mother’s, Luis reared back, bumping into the windowsill behind him. The cream curtains with their smattering of brown and green palm trees flapped around him. “Don’t even bring that up. It’s in the past. It’s done.”

  “It will not be done until you make peace with your hermano,” his mom warned, her face pinched with maternal worry and caution.

  Coño, her refrain was a recording stuck on a never-ending loop, repeating her insistence that he clear the air with his brother. Too bad that would never happen. Luis could never forgive Enrique’s betrayal. Or the role he had played in not stopping Mirna from driving away that day.

  Spinning on his sneaker, Luis stomped toward the sliding glass door leading to the back porch.

  “Necesitas hablar con alguien,” his mom insisted.

  Luis paused, his fingers crooked around the metal handle. No, he didn’t need to talk to anyone or rehash the past. He needed to forget. Keep himself busy. Help the next person in need.

  “If not me. If not Father Miguel at St. Mary’s. If not a grief counselor. Then with your papi. He understands loss, on the job and off.”

  Head bowed, Luis nodded. She made a good point. As always.

  “Think about it. Now come give your mamá a kiss good-bye. You know better than to leave without one.”

  Like the dutiful son he tried hard to be, Luis trudged back to his mom. Her plump face, its wrinkles a sign of a life well lived as she liked to say, softened with her benevolent smile. She angled her head for him to kiss her cheek.

  “Dios te bendiga, mi vida,” she told him.

  As he pushed the sliding glass door open to say good-bye to his father, Luis found comfort in the farewell his mother had said to them all for as long as he could remember.

  God bless you, my life.

  As screwed up as his personal and work life might be at the moment, he could always count on his parents’ love and support. Something Sara had unfortunately missed out on growing up.

  It seemed as if her parents wanted to change that now, and if he could facilitate the process, help someone else’s family situation when he couldn’t help his own, that would make this forced time off work worth it.

  Anxious to see Sara again, Luis hurried down the back steps. He gave his dad a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, then double-timed it to his truck.

  He had plans with his enticing fake girlfriend, and they made the week ahead loom brighter.

  * * *

  Luis pulled into the parking space behind the Vances’ blue rental SUV to find Ruth, dressed in a navy and white short-sleeved dress, pacing back and forth along the verandah. She paused mid-step, her gaze peering intently through his front windshield. Seconds later, her thin shoulders slumped, and she returned his wave with a feeble one of her own.

  Unease skittered down Luis’s spine.

  His cell phone nested in the console cupholder, so he knew he hadn’t missed a warning call or text from Sara. But based on Ruth’s sentinel-guarding-the-door routine, he’d guess something was wrong in the Vance household this morning.

  Grabbing his duffel bag off the front passenger seat, he hopped out of his truck. By the time his sneakers hit the grass, his mind shifted into problem-solving mode, his eyes assessing the premises as if he were arriving on the scene of a call.

  “Good morning!” he said, shifting into the upbeat tone he used when visiting elementary schools or speaking with children about life as a firefighter. “Weather looks great for a day of island sightseeing.”

  Ruth didn’t take his bait. Instead, she waited for him at the top of the stairs, her hello smile shaky, her gray eyes stormy.

  “Have you heard from Sara?” she asked.

  Halfway up the steps, Luis paused, suddenly leery. Was their ruse up?

  “Uh, no,” he answered, ping-ponging between disappointment and unease. Trying not to let either show. “But I wasn’t expecting to. When I left last night, we arranged for me to be here at nine thirty after I met my parents for breakfast. Do you need something?”

  Ruth shook her head and pivoted, crossing the wooden flooring to perch on the end of one of the rattan rockers. She rubbed her palms up and down her thighs, a nervous gesture that stretched, then bunched the navy and white wavy-patterned material of her short-sleeved sundress.

  Figuring he would have been given the boot had their fake relationship been exposed, Luis dropped his bag by the front door, then crossed to sit in the rocker beside hers.

  “She left the house at seven thirty to go for a short run.” Ruth crooked her elbow to check the time on the gold watch circling her tiny wrist. Her lips thinned. Her brows angled even closer as her frown deepened.

  “The island’s beautiful in the morning,” he mused. “Sun rising over the ocean. Quiet early AM sounds like our famous stray roosters crowing. Less hustle and bustle of tourists clogging the streets. Maybe she decided to extend her run.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. Aren’t you?”

  He drew a blank on how to respond to Ruth’s question. Personally, he enjoyed a long morning run around the island when he finished a shift.

  “I’ve tried calling, but her phone goes direct to voice mail. Doesn’t that worry you?” Ruth’s concerned, slightly accusatory, gaze pierced him.

  It was obvious Sara’s mom thought him privy to some kind of info Sara herself hadn’t felt the need to divulge. The only answer he could guess was the mystery sickness she was supposedly recuperating from.

  “Sara has assured me, all of us”—he placed his hand on Ruth’s forearm, stalling her agitated motion up and down her thighs—“that she’s feeling fine.”

  There was that damn word again.

  “Yes, she has. But recovery can be so precarious. I’m sure with your paramedic training you’re aware of the dangers. How easily someone can slide back into obsessive habits.”

  The words recovery and obsessive habits in reference to Sara caught Luis so completely off guard, he blinked at Ruth in surprise.

  Case studies from his training and real-life experiences on the job filed through his mind, with him quickly cataloging and searching for similar signs he may have missed in Sara. With each symptom or side effect he recalled, Luis came up short. The only hard facts he had to go on were her family’s odd behavior at dinner last night, the mysterious “health situation” Sara had alluded to but didn’t care to discuss, and now Ruth’s comments.

  It wasn’t nearly enough information, and his bid for answers came up frustratingly empty.

  Luis stared back at Ruth, her high cheekbones and pert nose so like Sara’s etched with pain. The older woman�
��s fear was a needle pricking his skin, jabbing at his innate need to soothe another’s discomfort.

  “I promise you that I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Sara’s safe.” As soon as he uttered the words, he winced with regret.

  It was an empty promise at best. One he wished he could snatch out of the air like a pesky mosquito. Life had taught him the inevitability of shit happening. Of his inability to stop others from making a wrong decision or duping him by keeping something illicit or painful hidden.

  Just like Mirna had. And his brother.

  Annoyed he’d let them color his thoughts, Luis swiped the memories away. Sara wasn’t his ex. They were completely different people who shared no similarities.

  Other than a disconnect with their families.

  A secret they withheld. Deeply rooted issues he wasn’t fully aware of.

  And him thinking he could ride in on a white horse, or his white dive boat, to save them.

  ¡Coño! Luis bit back the curse. First his mom, now Sara’s, stirring up memories and doubts he preferred to bury.

  Ruth sucked in a shaky breath. Her eyes drifted shut as she patted his hand where it lay on her forearm, leaving him uncertain whom she sought to comfort. Herself or him.

  A tiny warbler glided out of the poinciana tree branches spanning from the neighbor’s yard into theirs, the tree’s green leaves adorned by the delicate flaming red flowers. The little bird’s wings flapped, his spindly legs stretching out to catch him as he landed on the white verandah railing with a stutter step. The bird trilled a high-pitched, musical hello.

  “I’m so happy you joined us this week.” Ruth’s voice, thick with emotion, drew Luis’s attention. She offered him a shaky smile, and he was relieved to find the turbulent storm in her gray eyes had quieted.

  “One of the lessons I learned over the course of my battle with cancer was the importance of having a loved one by your side,” she told him. “Seeing you with Sara, knowing she has someone else in her corner, brings me a wealth of relief and hope.”

  The repercussions of his and Sara’s duplicity taunted him in the face of Ruth’s genuine sincerity. Guilt soured the saliva in his mouth, and Luis struggled to swallow it along with the truth he owed it to Sara to not reveal.