Nothing More Beautiful (39 page)

Breathing had already been a challenge, and
now it was verging on dire. I could see the boat in the distance
and swarm hard for it. But then something moved in my peripheral,
something big.

I jerked my head right and my heart stopped
for a moment. Swimming along the ocean’s floor, a giant blue body
streaked through the water. Trying not to hyperventilate, I bolted
for the safety of the boat as fast as I could, unable to think
straight.

But as the streak swam closer, I saw that it
was a dolphin, not a shark, as I had feared. There were four of
them swimming for the boat and the people splashing around. My
heart calmed, but an impulse still told me to clear the water.

My eyes darting between the boat and the
dolphins, I never noticed Vince shooting through the water to my
left. He grabbed my arm, and panicking, I punched him in the
shoulder, mistaking him for a threat. He put up his arms to show
that he wasn’t.

I pointed at the boat and together we swam
toward it. I flew up the ladder and onto the safety of the deck.
People were shouting in astonishment as the dolphins darted around
the water. Vince joined me on the boat. “You all right?” he
asked.

I nodded, out of breath. I hadn’t recovered
my lungs yet and gave him a smile instead of words. “I
thought—thought it was a shark.”

Vince held me tight. “I’m so sorry,” he
said. “One minute I was tracking a fish, and the next—poof, you’re
gone.”

I eased his conscience. “I did the same
thing. It’s okay, honest. It’s all right.”

“I’m going to ride me a flipper,” I heard
Ryan yell, looking over the railing.

Vince glanced up at him. “I wouldn’t do that
if I were you,” he told Ryan.

“Man, don’t tell me what to do,” Ryan
snapped. “I’ll do what I want.” He jumped overboard.

“See,” I huffed, still catching my breath.
“He doesn’t like to be told what to do.”

Vince shrugged.

I never went back in the water, too afraid
that the dolphins might turn evil. Vince swam the rest of the time
with them, which lasted about ten minutes before they moved on.
Ryan was as loud as ever, bragging about how he rode one of them by
its fin. The captain wasn’t at all happy about that.

After we pulled up to the dock and were
waiting to exit, I could hear Ryan behind us. “No, baby. She meant
nothing to me. She’s not like you. She did nothing for me with
those little titties. You’re the kind of woman a man needs—not
her.”

I felt Vince clench up. He set our stuff on
a bench, then spun around abruptly, swinging a fist. He punched
Ryan square in the jaw and sent him over the railing. Ryan battled
the water, shouting.

“She was too good for you, you fucking
moron!” Vince snarled. He grabbed our things, retrieved his wallet,
and stuffed ten Benjamins into the captain’s hand. “That never
happened.”

“It was a smooth docking,” the captain said
with a grin, as we walked down the gangplank.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” I said,
astounded.

“He had it coming,” he laughed.

I wrapped my arms around Vince’s shoulders
and kissed his bare chest. I was utterly turned on. “What do you
say we celebrate back in the bedroom?”

“I like the way you think,” he said, opening
the car door for me with a huge grin on his face.

W
e departed Kauai on the
earliest flight the next morning. Neither of us wanted to leave,
but we had to get back to reality, and a part of me missed the
bakery and all the friendly faces. After the long plane trip, all I
wanted was to sleep. My plan was spoiled at four a.m. I woke up to
the sound of Vince shifting things in his closet.

“Vince?” I said, thinking he was right
there. I rolled out of bed, heading for the light, through the
split bathroom and into the walk-in. Vince was sitting on the
ground, packing his suitcase. “What are you doing? Why are you
packing?”

“I have to go to San Diego,” he said,
shoving socks into his carry-on.

“What do you mean? Now?”

“Yes, now,” he said hurriedly. “I just got a
call. It’s an emergency. I have to leave right away.”

“Emergency?” My brain barely processed what
he said. “What is it? What happened?”

“I’ll explain as soon as I know all the
details.” He zipped up the suitcase and stood. “I don’t know
exactly when I’ll be back. It could be a few days. I doubt more
than a week.”

He dashed for the kitchen. I hurried after
him, my head groggy, and my stomach queasy. “You’re just going to
leave like that? No warning, no explanation?”

“I don’t know enough to explain.” He
snatched his keys, a banana, and a few energy bars. He kissed me by
the elevator. “I’ll call you tonight,” he said, stepping inside.
Soon he disappeared into the morning before my brain could
comprehend what had happened.

Worry fully woke me before long. I stood in
front of the bedroom windows, gazing out on the city, puzzling out
what business could be so urgent that compelled Vince to leave for
San Diego at four in the morning. He had big clients in San Diego,
sure, but nothing that would make him bolt so quickly. I tried
Vince a few times, but it went straight to voicemail. I decided to
give Alma a shot. She picked up, but she knew less than I did,
without any idea that Vince was even back, let alone that he’d left
again.

I paced the house for most of the day.
Stress and uneasiness plagued my nerves and stomach. For background
noise, I turned on the TV, listening to the news. I figured if it
were huge, one of the news channels might have something to
report.

“I’m freaking out,” I said over the phone to
Danielle.

“Why don’t you come home?” she suggested.
“If he’s going to be gone for a while, there’s no reason for you to
stay there alone. Come home and we’ll figure it out together.” I
followed her advice and drove home.

When I opened the door, Danielle eyed me
like I had just caught her doing something naughty, nervous and
shocked. “What? What is it?” I asked. She pointed at the TV,
turning up the volume.

Some CNN reporter I’d never seen or heard of
was doing the broadcast. “After three years stranded on a small
island in the Pacific, two survivors of flight ANZ107, Danny Larson
and Skye Burkhart were rescued earlier this morning by the U.S.
Navy. Amazingly, this rescue operation started in the small town of
Ellensburg, Washington, where retired telecommunications worker
Bradley Davis found the letters “SOS” written in rocks on a small
beach while browsing around the Pacific using Google Earth. This is
what Mr. Davis had to say about the discovery.”

The news feed cut to an old, short, stocky
man with thick-rimmed glasses. “Uh, well, I was just exploring the
world, you see,” he said to the camera and reporter on scene. “I
can’t travel the world, uh, so I use the Internet to get out there.
When I first came across the image of the SOS, I thought it was a
joke. Uh, so, I called my brother and talked it over with him, and
he, uh, said I should report it to someone, you see, so I did. No
one took it seriously until someone saw it for themselves. A few
hours later, the Navy had a plane do a flyby, and uh, there you go.
They rescued them soon after that.”

The feed switched back to the news anchor.
“Flight ANZ107 from LAX to New Zealand crashed three years ago over
the Pacific, more than two hundred miles from where the two
survivors were found. We have yet to get an interview from one of
the survivors, but they’ll be arriving shortly at Naval Air Station
North Island in San Diego. We’ll have more for you as the story
develops.”

Danielle muted the TV. “That’s her, isn’t
it? Vince’s old fiancée?”

I nodded slowly, the wave of shock hitting
me hard. I stared at the screen. It didn’t seem real. How could it
be real? She’d been dead for years—how could she just come back
like that? I dialed Vince a hundred times, but every call went
straight to voicemail. “What does this mean?” I asked Danielle. She
shook her head. “Skye was the love of his life. Her death
devastated him to the point that he’s barely ever actually gotten
over it. If she comes back into his life, what does it mean for
me?”

“Vince loves you, Maci,” she comforted me,
embracing me with a strong hug. “You know that.” That didn’t answer
my question though. What else did I want her to say? There was no
way to guess what would happen next. I sat glued to the TV for the
rest of the day and long into the night until I eventually passed
out from exhaustion.

AFTER THREE DAYS OF
waiting, with my gut twisted like a rag, my nerves going haywire,
and my brain concocting a million dramatic scenarios, Vince finally
returned. He had called every day, but they were all short, vague
conversations about what was going on. “Skye and the other
survivor, Danny Larson, are coming in this afternoon. I told them
we’d have dinner with them,” he said, sitting in my office
chair.

“Dinner with them? Tonight?”

“Is that all right?” he asked, though it
sounded like he was going with or without me.

“To meet your ex-fiancée? The woman you’ve
been pining over these last three years.” I shook my head,
flustered. “Her death shattered your heart, Vince, and I’m a little
confused what this means about you and me.”

“You and me? This doesn’t affect you and
me.”

“How can it not affect us?” I raised my
voice. “You’ve been in love with her forever. You couldn’t even let
go of her to sleep with Alma or anyone else.”

“Until you,” he defended. “You entered my
life and rescued me from that hell, that lost wandering that I’d
been doing for so long. That was you, Maci. I’m in love with
you . . . I just want to be there for her, as a
friend. She’s been gone for three years, for Christ’s sake! You
can’t expect me to just push her aside like she never existed.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” I said. His
mood changed, more hostile than composed. “I’m not asking you to
pretend she wasn’t this huge part of your life. I’m asking you what
this means for our future.”

“I don’t know,” he said curtly, the honesty
bare. “All I know is that I love you.”

“
And
you love her.”

He didn’t answer, his eyes on the floor. He
rose suddenly. “I’d like it if you came to dinner and met them. I
made a reservation at Castagna for seven o’clock.” He headed for
the door. “I don’t know what to do to remind you that I love you,
but you’re the only woman for me now. I hope that you believe
that.” He disappeared through the door before I could form a
coherent reply.

I wanted to believe those words. Knowing
Vince’s history, though, made it difficult. Her death almost cost
him his life. What would her life cost him now? I fought off all
the jealousy and doubt—swallowing it down—and resolved to arrive at
dinner collected and convivial.

BRIDGETT AND DANIELLE TRIED
to calm my nerves the rest of the day. When seven arrived, I was
poised, ready for the evening and any unforeseen hiccup thrown my
way. After parking Eddie, I checked my watch. 7:04. Only four
minutes late—not bad. I walked into the corner restaurant. It was
tiny and awkward. I scanned the whole space, which took about five
seconds. Vince was absent, and from the pictures I had seen of
Skye, so was she.

Before panic took control, I asked the
hostess, but she didn’t have a reservation under Forte or Vince.
“Your party is probably eating at the main restaurant, one door
down.”

“What is this?”

“The café,” she responded. “It’s a common
mistake. If you want, I can go check for you.”

“No, that’s okay.” I walked around to the
main restaurant. The dim lighting hurt my eyes, adjusting from the
sunlight. The hostess there led me to the table, where Vince and
two others sat. They all stood for introductions. Vince leaned in
for a kiss, happy that I decided to join them.

In spite of her emaciated body, I couldn’t
believe how stunning Skye was. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair
was clean despite the harsh years, her teeth white, and overall,
she still possessed a classy elegance. But what really caught my
attention were her eyes, burning with endurance—a flame of
willpower that couldn’t be extinguished. Danny looked a little more
ragged, with sunken eyes, extremely thin hair that would have
looked better shaved, his body surrounded by an aura of
fatigue.

After I sat, my brain decided to trip,
unable to form any words. What could I say? This woman had just
spent three years in hell and survived. I didn’t know the etiquette
for such a situation. Silence burdened the table.

“So, Vince tells me you own a bakery,” Skye
said, trying to jumpstart the conversation.

“And brunch house, yeah,” I replied. “I
co-own it with a friend from culinary school.”

“That must be exciting,” she said
pleasantly.

“It is . . . it’s also
tiring.”

“Maci gets to work at 4:45,” Vince added.
“She’s one of the hardest working people I’ve ever seen.” After
that, he started throwing out compliments like he was trying to
prove my worth. I couldn’t tell if he was comparing us or if he was
verbally reminding himself of all the reasons why he cared for
me.

Vince and Skye carried the conversation, but
later in the evening, after a few glasses of sweet white wine, my
tongue loosened up. “I just have to ask you,” I started. “After
three years without washing your hair, how on earth does it still
look so fantastic?”

“Oh, I did wash it,” she said. “We washed
ashore with a few bags and suitcases. Danny sacrificed a lot of the
shampoo for me. He said he was balding and didn’t need it.”

“It’s true,” Danny said. He hadn’t spoken
much all night, and only added in bits and pieces, never starting a
conversation. He interlocked his hand with hers over the table. I
glanced over at Vince and saw his surprise. “I never really had
great hair anyway, and who would want such a gorgeous head of locks
to fall out? The only hard part was keeping up nutrition. We both
became pretty good fishermen early on, and there was some wild
fruit that grew on the island.”