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Pain. His ex. The two had become synonymous. In retrospect, he likened his marriage to their purchase of the Waterford pitcher. It had been terribly impractical, especially for an assistant resident manager in one of the chain's least important hotels. But they had seen it in a jewelry store window the night he'd proposed and they couldn't resist it. And Hap felt then, as now, that you enriched yourself and your life when you surrounded yourself with beauty and Diana was a killer when it came to looks.
The disintegration of their ten-year marriage had begun with the breaking of the pitcher. During Bunny's second birthday party she'd accidentally knocked it off the table where Diana had filled it with roses and used it as a centerpiece. He'd been upset. Not at Bunny. But Diana should have known better than to use it at a child’s birthday party with happy kids yelling and running and playing games. Of course, it was not simply the breaking of the pitcher. It was the moment the pitcher represented and the destruction of that memory. Diana came from new, easy wealth and if something broke, you just replaced it. Even relationships, he’d learned since.
He sipped the brandy and glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed. The designer seemed a trifle more comfortable and, judging by the color gradually returning to her face, she was no longer in danger of slipping into shock. He could tell by the way she compressed her lips into a thin line that the pain was still bad, but she seemed to be handling it. Anne Hunt was murmuring to her reassuringly. A vision formed in his mind of Anne's long hair spread across a pillow, his pillow. She was speaking softly, gently to him. And that was a fantasy destined to remain just that because Anne Hunt was an opinionated, arrogant islander. Furthermore, he had never been led around by his zipper and never would be. Damn, but life was complicated.
Marns, who was nearer the hall, looked up at the sound of slamming doors, approaching footsteps, all followed by Doc Bartleson's friendly, “Halloo.”
"He's here," Marns announced, scrambling to his feet.
Hap relaxed at the sight of the tall, take-charge man whose lumbering walk and mass of curly dark brown hair reminded him of a bear. He rose. "Glad you're here, Doctor. She took a nasty fall."
The doctor nodded a greeting, shook out of his damp raincoat and knelt beside Marisa in one fluid movement. He plopped his medical bag on the floor beside him.
Bartleson's alert brown eyes narrowed as he studied her, taking in the awkward position of her back and the injured leg. Examining her with cautious hands, he said, "We have a bit of a problem here, Ma'am. It looks like a compound fracture. We better get you to Naples Community Hospital on the mainland. I don't have the facilities to treat you."
Marisa took a deep breath, and clutched Anne's hand. "This sure screws up my schedule."
The doctor patted her shoulder gently. "I'm going to give you something to make you comfortable, then I'm going to rig a brace to support that leg and put a collar on you to stabilize your neck and back." He glanced over his shoulder at Hap. "Is your launch available?"
"No, it's on the mainland." Hap glanced at his watch. "About half an hour."
"Okay. That gives us just enough time. I'm going to need a couple more blankets," he said as he opened his medical bag. He extracted a vial of clear liquid and a shrink-wrapped package containing a disposable hypodermic needle. "This will ease that pain," he said to Marisa. "Mr. Forrester, can you have someone get the stretcher from my Jeep? You’ll also find back braces and a collar lying on the seat. When Marns called and told me the lady had fallen, I figured I might need them."
Hap looked at Marns. "See to it," he said.
Marns rose quickly. "Yes sir. Right away," he responded and Hap smiled his thanks.
"You're in good hands now," Anne said. "I'm just in the way." She patted the woman's shoulder.
Marisa managed a smile. "Thanks for everything, Anne. Next time I'm on the island we'll do lunch. My treat."
"You bet." Anne pushed to her feet.
Hap reached down and took her arm to help her up. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder and, as he looked down at her, he could see the ivory flesh beneath the tan line of her bosoms. "Are you going home now?" He heard himself ask inanely. "I mean...do you have a way home? That is, do you need a ride somewhere?"
She shrugged off his hand and looked at him as if he had taken complete leave of his senses. "Whether I am going home," she said in an icy undertone, "is none of your business. And I don't need a ride. Anywhere."
"Just trying to be neighborly," he clipped his words, but kept his voice as quiet as she had.
"Don't. You tricked me into opening my boutique here, you corporate carpetbagger. Now leave well enough alone."
She swiveled on her black velvet high heels and he watched her march out of the room, followed with his eyes the slim waist and the rhythm of her trim but rounded hips. Took in the long legs encased in sheer black hose. Felt a hard, unbidden, uncomfortable surge of heat. And a sudden sense of loss, which he immediately put out of his mind.
Later, as he waited with Doc Bartleson and Marisa on the pier, Hap realized the wind had freshened. Gusting, it played tag with Marisa's blankets and her long gray hair that, hanging loose now, whipped savagely around her face. The rain was still just spitting, but Hap could tell by the smell in the air that before the night was over it would come another frog strangler. Then he frowned, concerned that, from Felicity's standpoint, the sight of an injured woman being taken off the island on a stretcher would seem neither reassuring nor welcoming. But then again, he reminded himself, she had always been a very levelheaded child. He glanced at his watch. The launch was late, not much, but still late. He scanned the darkening horizon searching for the boat's running lights.
Chapter 2
Seven-year-old Felicity Forrester clutched her kitten's carrying case with one hand and a canvas tarpaulin with the other as the Tarpon Inn motor launch bumped across the waters of Estero Bay. Next to her on the seat were her two suitcases, her cheerleader Barbie doll with its carrying case, a backpack with her books and tape player and cassettes and a tote bag with Mister Bear's head jutting out. The teddy bear's wide, bead eyes expressed unblinking astonishment.
The cat meowed in complaint and Felicity lifted the gray port-a-pet into her lap. The feline's round golden eyes darted nervously. "It's okay, Mew Mew," she consoled. The boat ride had started out nice, but a brisk wind had come from somewhere and transformed the bay waters into a series of choppy waves. Her stomach lurched, both in reaction to the rough ride and to her uncertainty as to what lay ahead.
If Daddy still loved her, why had it been so long since she had seen him? A year and a half. Those months represented a Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day and all the other holidays including her birthday. He'd written her regularly, always enclosing a five-dollar bill for what he called mad money. And he'd sent her presents and cards. Sometimes, even when it wasn't her birthday or a holiday, she'd get a package wrapped in brown paper containing a teddy bear for her collection. But it had been so long, he didn't know she'd stopped collecting teddy bears the day her mother had said she was divorced. It had taken several days before she'd gotten the courage to ask her mother if she, Felicity, had divorced Daddy, too, and she'd felt relieved when her mother had assured her that she, Diana, was the only one divorced.
They'd been really happy when he and Mom were married. He'd called her Bunny and nobody else in the world knew he nicknamed her that because he said Felicity’s nose twitched like a bunny rabbit’s when she ate the Dove ice cream bars she loved. Everything had changed since the DIVORCE. Felicity always thought of that word in big letters. And now that Mom had married again, Felicity wasn't sure where she fit in either parent's world.
Her destination loomed on the horizon, an ominous hulk silhouetted against the gloomy sky. The launch hit an especially high wave and she fell back against the leather seat. The kitten yowled and the driver, a nice man, turned back toward her, his tanned face registering concern.
"You all right, Miss Felicity?" he yelled, his voice carrying over the wind. She nodded, poking her finger through the slats of the carrier to touch the kitten. The driver mouthed for her to hold on tight. Ahead, two lights illuminated the dusk and in their rays, she could see the Inn's long wooden pier reaching toward her. It reminded her of the bony hand of a Halloween skeleton. She spotted a group of people waiting on the pier. From among them, she singled out her father standing at the end of the dock beneath the lights. He was wearing a raincoat and looked just like she remembered. Maybe it would be all right after all.
As they drew closer, she saw three men carrying something. A stretcher. With a lady on it. The driver cut the motor and the boat slammed against the pilings, but her father was there to reach down a steadying hand and to lift her onto the solid, secure planks of the dock.
He swung her up, hugged her so tight she could hardly breathe, and pelted her with questions. "How are you, baby? Are you all right? Was the trip okay? Did you get wet? Are you cold? Are you hungry?"
She couldn't get her breath to answer and she didn't know which to answer first so she just nodded. Over his shoulder she saw the driver tying off the boat. The people on the pier were anxious to leave. She could tell by the way they hurried to put the lady on the stretcher in the boat. She could also tell the lady was hurting by the look on her face and that Daddy was worried about her by the look on his face when he'd wished the lady good luck and told her to let him know if she needed anything.
Finally, he put Felicity down on the pier. Still holding her hand, he said, "Doc, call me as soon as you know something."
Felicity's bags had barely been unloaded when the boat's motor roared and the launch swerved in a half circle, heading back toward the mainland carrying as passengers the big man with the doctor's bag and the lady on the stretcher.
"Marns, please get Felicity's bags," Daddy told the nice black man who'd helped carry the stretcher. "Oh, by the way, Marns, this is my daughter. Felicity, Marns."
The black man bowed. “Miss Felicity,” he said, shaking the hand she offered as Daddy had taught her.
As Daddy led her up the long, shell-lined walk toward the Inn, he explained about the lady getting hurt. But mostly, he told her over and over how glad he was she was there and how much fun they were going to have. But she wasn't at all sure. Why did he have to tell her so many times? It was almost like he was trying to convince himself, not her. The thought flickered through her mind that her father was as nervous as she was. But that couldn’t be. Everybody knew daddies and mommies didn’t get scared. A few minutes later, she stood in the lobby of the Tarpon Inn, clasping Mew Mew's case and waiting for her father who was helping Marns unload her luggage.
The lobby was a big room with a high ceiling that made her feel very small. At one end was a big wooden counter where guests registered. Over the desk mounted on a plaque, hung a silvery tarpon fish with shiny, dead eyes. The other wall was a huge fireplace made of coral rocks. On another wall was the skin of a rattlesnake stretched on a board. She recognized it because of the diamonds on its back and the rattles at the end of its tail. Next to the snake was the head of a deer. The deer's glass eyes reflected the movements of the paddle-shaped blades of the ceiling fan.
Wet and tired, at that moment she wished with all her heart that she and Mew Mew were home in her own familiar pink and white bedroom. She didn't think she was going to like this place. As if in agreement, Mew Mew growled low in his throat.
"You must be Miss Felicity," a gentle, very Southern voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned and faced a tall, slim black man who stood behind the registration desk. He wore huge, gold-rimmed glasses that almost dwarfed his face. He was smiling and his strong, even white teeth gleamed. "We're all glad you're going to be with us. . ."
He leaned way over across the desk and she reached up to shake his hand, but she didn't understand what happened next. As he took her hand, his face turned almost gray and he looked like he didn't feel good. Or was scared. "Oh, Miss Felicity," the man said softly, "oh, Miss Felicity, you can't. . ."
He didn't finish his sentence so she wasn't sure what she wasn't supposed to do. She was relieved when the double glass doors of the entrance swung open and her father approached.
"Mr. Forrester," the clerk said, "I need to talk to you. Tonight."
'Can't it wait?" Daddy sounded grouchy like he had before he and Mom split up. "My little girl just got here and we haven't had any time..."
"It's important," the clerk persisted.
"Oh, all right." But she could tell Daddy wasn't pleased. "I'll be down as soon as I get Felicity settled," he responded. Turning to Bunny, he asked, “Did you have supper?”
Before she could answer her stomach growled. A loud growl. Embarrassed and humiliated, she covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
Her mother would have been upset with her, but her daddy bent down, kissed her on the cheek and smiled. “I’ll have some sandwiches and milk and cookies sent up.
She nodded, glad she hadn’t embarrassed him, too.
"Come on, honey. We'll get you unpacked and something to eat and then I'll introduce you to everyone. Did you meet Markuss?" When she nodded, he continued, "There aren't many people here at night because we haven't opened yet. Let's see, you met Marns at the pier. I'll introduce you to Marns' wife and the cook in the morning. And Mrs. Addison. She's the housekeeper. And Mary Jo. She works in the dining room. And best of all, tomorrow morning first thing you’ll meet Aleta. She’s going to look after you while you’re here this summer."
She wanted to ask Daddy why he couldn’t look after her, but she already knew the answer. Mommie had told her. “Daddies didn’t look after little girls, only mommie and nannies,” she’d said.
Daddy led her into the elevator next to the desk. Instead of a door, it had a heavy metal gate and reminded her of a horrible old black and white movie she'd seen late one night at a slumber party. A woman had gotten trapped and murdered in a spooky old elevator just like this one, but she didn't want to say anything because she wasn't supposed to watch that kind of movie.
"In a couple days there will be other children for you to play with and there's a lot to do. You'll have a wonderful time this summer. You can swim and take tennis lessons and play shuffleboard. And we’ll go on picnics.” Her father pulled the elevator door closed.
"I know, Daddy," she said as the lift creaked and groaned into motion. "And the best part is I'll be with you." She knew that was what she was supposed to say but Mew Mew, disconcerted by the elevator's motion, yowled his displeasure and, for a minute, she wished she was a cat.
"What's wrong with Mew Mew?"
"I don't think he likes it here."
"Well, you will," he said as he squeezed her hand. It was a few seconds before he spoke and when he did, his voice was gravelly and sort of choked. "I'll see to that," he said.
With a queasy feeling of apprehension, Markuss Harper flinched as the elevator doors clanged shut and the motor grumbled into action. Mr. Forrester was going to come downstairs in a few minutes and he was going to have to tell him what he'd seen.
Markuss usually kept his second sight to himself because most people weren't receptive. He either scared them off or they thought he was weird. And Hap Forrester was one touchy dude. He could easily decide he didn't want a night clerk who saw visions.
Markuss needed this job. Work on Isla de las Martyres was almost nonexistent and he'd not been able to believe his luck when Mr. Forrester had hired him. The other people who'd tried in past years to run the Inn had always ignored the townspeople from Useffa, bringing strangers over from the mainland.
But what Markuss had seen, the influence around that little girl, it was so evil, so dangerous. Markuss would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. Especially since she was a child. And such a nice child. Not what he would have expected for being Mr. Forrester's. But children were special, no matter whose they were. And they should be protected. His mama had taught him that. Taught him by word and by example. She'd worked as a cleaning lady in some of the fine homes on the island so he and Aleta, his twin sister, could get good educations.
Mama'd told him her life had been sanctified—her word—when he and Aleta had graduated from Florida State University in Tallahassee. She'd fulfilled her life's purpose she told him. He had his bachelor's degree in hospitality and Aleta had hers in elementary education and their lives were going to be just fine.
But it hadn't worked that way. He and Aleta'd had a terrible time getting jobs. They'd hung around Miami until finally they'd run out of work, even jobs like counter help at McDonald's, and had come home to the island. Mama knew it wasn't their fault and she never said one cross word, but he felt he'd let her down.
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