This place was hers, each little hut and the small stretch of white sand beyond, the main house with its restaurant, a handful of guest suites, and the rooms she shared with her daughter. The smallest dot on a map of well-established hotels that catered to tourists, but there were no guests here now. The exodus began yesterday and ended when she waved goodbye to a newlywed couple from New Jersey hours earlier.
The month’s revenue would suffer, the smattering of reservations at this time of year being cancelled more quickly than they were replaced, and her brows drew together in worry. She’d already dropped her low summer rates, but weather like this meant more cancellations on the horizon. There would be less money for expenses, even less for her own salary.
It was a cycle, one she had little control over, that lack of control an all-too-common theme in her life.
She hoped the cabanas would be okay, that they’d be able to weather the storm bearing down. With their grass roofs and bamboo structures, they were designed more for their tropical aesthetics than any kind of strength, but they were beautiful despite their need for repairs. “Don’t blow away on me,” she whispered, touching the porch railing as if shaking a hand and solidifying the deal.
Thunder rolled quietly in the distance, the energy of the storm hovering like a tangible, unwelcome presence. She held her breath, a tingle running down her spine. Turning in a slow circle, she scanned the beach for the source of her unease, but it was too dark to see clearly, deep shadows making familiar shapes appear strange.
She shook her head quickly, her radar sensing danger that was purely atmospheric. She headed for the main house, anxious to get inside, but the feeling followed her like a lion stalking its prey.
Relax. Everything’s fine.
She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, but still her pace quickened. She rounded a tropical bush taller than her head, a plant she’d wrestled into submission with sharp shears and determination over years. She grabbed onto that memory, pushing others aside, ignoring the alarm bells that clamored in her head. But she knew this feeling, so familiar from her past, the fear that seeped into her skin like poison, killing every ounce of happiness in her veins and replacing it with a meek submission she barely recognized.
“Jacqueline.”
She stopped breathing, her feet stilling beneath her. Was she hearing things?
Her husband’s voice called her, whether from the past or just a few feet behind her, she didn’t know. Now she ran, feet stammering in the sand. The air was black, so dark she should have brought a light to guide her, and she cursed her lack of preparedness.
She was imagining things, but the darkness of her past was behind her, chasing her through the sand, cutting through the years that separated her from the man who believed she was dead.
Cold lines ran down her face, wet from tears. The silhouette of the restaurant jutting off the back of the main house came into view and she darted for it, pushing through the screen door and shutting it behind her as her chest heaved, straining for air.
“Mommy?”
She jumped, spinning around. Selena stood in the doorway that connected the restaurant to the main house, the girl’s pastel nightgown glowing in the dimly lit room. Jackie exhaled on a rush. “You scared me! You should be in bed,” she snapped, more harshly than she’d intended.
“I can’t find Mimi.”
Jesus Christ.
Her heart was still racing. Doug wasn’t outside, any more than he was in here. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She and Selena were safe, and the missing kitten demanded her attention. It was always something. She was a mother and an independent business woman. Always something. “She’s not in your room?”
“Well, she was, but when I went to brush my teeth, she pushed past my legs and ran downstairs. I tried to catch her, but by the time I got in here, she was running out the screen door.”
“It should have been shut.”
Selena put her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who used it last.”
Jackie sighed heavily, knowing the girl was right. The latch was forever sticking in the open position, and with her mind on preparing for the storm, she’d ignored the door behind her. When she found the kitten, she would set the alarm and breathe easy again.
But dear God, that tone in Selena’s voice!
Her daughter seemed all but convinced she was a grown woman with the rights that endowed. She was smart and read voraciously, leaving the seven-year-old with a vocabulary that rivaled kids twice her age and her mother all too often locked in a battle of wills, exasperated.
If it weren’t so maddening, she’d be proud. Hell, she was proud of that girl—and tired, desperate to keep their relationship positive, no matter the battle forever brewing between them.
The girl met Jackie’s stare, and she was struck anew by her daughter’s beauty. Her soft cocoa skin, the classic lines of her face framed by untamed curls. Jackie’s own watercolor features were plain and unremarkable, but she could see herself in the girl nonetheless.
She would let the attitude go, for now. Selena was right. It was Jackie’s fault the kitten had escaped. “I was in a rush to get outside. I’m sorry.”
“You have to find her!”
Dread wriggled in her stomach at the thought of going back out there. “Is Bill still up?” she asked, hopeful the old man who rounded out their awkward little family could help her.
Selena raised an eyebrow. “Nope.”
