Where was Carla? She couldn’t have gone far considering she had a call still connected. Obviously, she’d gotten her wireless to work without him. Perhaps the man on the other side knew where she’d gone off to.
“¿Hola?” he asked.
The caller dipped his chin and narrowed his eyes at the screen. His brows bunched in confusion; then his mouth fell open. “James?”
Carlos jerked back. His stomach bottomed out like a sinkhole.
Orange-suit man dropped his booted feet to the floor with a loud thud. He leaned forward, his face and shoulders filling the screen. He whooped. “It is you.”
Carlos’s gaze dove to the name stamped on the man’s right breast. DONATO, P.
Phil.
The name crash-landed in Carlos’s head. Dread, sour and toxic, filled the empty space in his gut.
Phil hooted, slapping a palm on the tabletop. His image bounced on the screen—his steepled palms over his nose and mouth, his eyes going baseball-size on either side of his fingers. “You’re alive. You’re fucking alive.”
Carlos worked his jaw. His hands balled into fists as the dread twisted and morphed into a level of rage he couldn’t comprehend. Pain splintered through his head, leaving him unbalanced and seeing stars.
“Thomas, you sonofabitch,” Phil said more to himself. He jabbed a finger at the screen. “He told me you were dead. Jesus, it’s a miracle you survived at all considering how offshore we were. Ah, man, I thought you were a goner when I told you to jump, with your face being so messed up. They did a number on you. Sal, that tool that was with us in the boat, he took my gun. He shot at you, man. He shot at you!”
Phil continued to ramble, jumping out of his chair to lean in closer to the screen. Carlos’s eyes bugged, the pain behind them unbearable. He weaved on his feet.
Phil thumped his chest. “I never planned to use it. I wasn’t going to kill you. No way, man. You might have treated me like shit all our lives but I never would have killed you. Brothers don’t do that to each other. I told you to swim. I warned you when to jump. I saved your ass, I saved you. Sal would have killed you. But not me. I couldn’t pull the trigger. I just couldn’t.” Spittle rained on the screen, giving his lips an unnatural sheen. He flopped back into his chair and heaved a breath. “Besides, Mom would have kicked my ass if I harmed you, especially after what I tried with Aimee. Dude. My bad. But, shit, the whole family had teed me off. I was tired of being treated like crap by you guys. You can understand that, right?”
Nausea sloshed inside Carlos. He bent at the waist, hands on hips, and blew out large breaths. He started panting.
“It’s great to see you, man,” Phil was saying, “really, really great.”
Carlos cocked his head from his bent-over position and glared at the laptop. Phil peered into the tiny camera narrowing his eyes. “You look different. They fixed your face, like a Racer-X-from-Speed-Racer-reconstructive-surgery fix. Damn, your face had been a mess when I last saw you. Your eye was practically sealed shut. How did you swim like that? Come to think of it, how did you get to shore?”
Carlos’s chest rose and fell. His fingers dug into his kneecaps.
Phil scratched his cheek. “Fucking spectacular, man. I still can’t believe I’m seeing you. All this time I thought you were dead, and there you are, in the flesh, hanging out with Mom.
“By the way, why are you there?” He gasped. “Have you been in Mexico this whole time?”
Carlos gritted his teeth. Sweat bloomed over every inch of skin. Muscles cramped. His entire body was shaking. He straightened to his full height and stared down at the laptop.
Phil whistled. “Boy, you look madder than a penned-up bull. You must be really upset with me. But, hey”—he raised both hands in surrender—“I’m a reformed man. I take full responsibility for everything, including that little finger number I did on your fiancée.” He wiggled his fingers, then cleared his throat. “Oops, ex-fiancée. I was a bit messed in the head back then.” He pointed at his temple then clapped his hands together. “Tell you what. When I get out of here, I’ll make it up to you. I owe you big-time. You helped me see the light, so to speak. I’ll find you and we can—”
Carlos roared. He grabbed the laptop and threw it at the window. Glass shattered.
He looked madly around the room, panting, fists balled. Home. He had to get home.
And this place wasn’t home.
EPILOGUE
JAMES
Present Day
July 31
Hanalei, Kauai, Hawaii
James fills another bucket alongside Marc and flips its end over. He lifts the bucket slowly so the damp sand retains the shape.
“Put another one here, papá.” Marc points to the far corner of the castle they built together.
“You got it, kiddo.” James shovels sand back into his bucket.
After they set up the second tower, James cranes his neck, gazing off in the distance where Natalya and Julian are surfing. The waves are heavy today, thanks to an offshore storm. Perfect for riding, Julian told them.
Today is probably the last afternoon for some time for Julian to surf. They’ve been living with Natalya for more than a month. Thanks to the Silicon Valley real estate market, his house sold quickly in Los Gatos and well over the asking price. He should start looking for a condo, but it’s been nice staying with Natalya. He transferred his belongings to her room several weeks ago and she wants them to move in permanently. They still need to talk about taking the next step in their relationship, and he wants to do that soon. Because thinking about a future with her warms his heart and makes him ache—a good ache—in all the important places.
Construction on the gallery begins in a few weeks. Tomorrow the boys start school. Soon, their afternoons of beach play and surfing will be filled with homework and soccer practices. Even Marc, who is going into the first grade, has shown interest in playing.
James takes a deep breath of ocean air. In a short span of time, he’s changed names, acquaintances, homes, and countries, but their lifestyle remains the same. They’re back to the daily grind, which is perfectly fine with him after what they’ve been through.
Julian and Natalya paddle their arms, aiming for the stickiest part of an approaching wave. The water peaks beneath them, and as if in sync, they pop to their feet and direct their boards down the face of the swelling ocean. James stands to watch, holding his breath as he shields his eyes from the sun’s glare. Natalya once described surfing to him as one of the best feelings in the world. Besides sex, of course. It’s like being on top of the world and part of the ocean all at once.
“Is that your wife?”
James glances down, surprised to find a petite woman standing beside him. Her white cotton sundress swirls in the wind, dancing around her ankles. She braces a hand on her head so the wide-brimmed hat doesn’t fly away. Large, round white-rimmed sunglasses shield her eyes from the late-afternoon sun. Platinum hair flutters around her cheeks. She smiles at him and James feels himself grinning in response.
“Not yet.” He turns back to Natalya. “Someday, maybe.” And the thought leaves him feeling anxious, and warm, and at peace, all at once.
He thinks of the letter Carlos had written him. The words often return at unexpected moments, a subtle reminder of how blessed his life is now. Carlos’s last wish had been that he could find his way back into Natalya’s arms. And he has. He’s also enjoying falling for her all over again.
“Sounds to me like you can see the future,” the woman teases.
“Much better than I can my past,” he quips, not expecting this stranger to understand.
“I have ways of helping people rediscover their past.”
A chill runs through James, leaving him slightly shaken. “What are you? A psychologist?” He knows he needs therapy, but is it that obvious?
A secret smile touches her lips. “I’m a friend.”
“Grandma! I found a crab. Come look.”
The woman beside him grins. “That’s my granddaughter.” She nods with her chin toward a young girl digging where the tide kisses the sandy beach. She waves at her grandmother again.