Freshwater Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story (5 page)

"Hi, Samantha. I don't know if you remember me, but I would like to talk to you about Robbie," the woman said confidently. It was the voice coupled with the designer suit that made me remember her.

"You're Rachel. Of course I remember you. You would always let Robbie and me stop at the ice cream shop on our way home after sailing lessons. And you are one of the few people that always insisted on calling me Samantha instead of just Sam." I gave her a warm grin and sat up taller in the bed. Rachel sat down carefully in the chair that Grace had vacated only an hour before.

"I'm glad you remember me. I need to talk to you about Robbie, and I'll need you to sign some paperwork," she said, pulling a folder out of an oversized purse.

"I still can't believe he hit me. I mean, they told me he was drinking, but..." I shook my head slowly. "What happened to him, Rachel? I mean, why would he do that? It's just not like him."

Rachel sat very still for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she appraised me. I had always liked her when Robbie and I were kids. Rachel was one of the few people that Robbie always listened to, and as such, he always behaved for her. She had a fantastic sense of humor and could always send the two of us into hysterics.

"His dad is dying. He's having a hard time dealing with it. That's not an excuse or a justification, just the explanation," she added quickly. She pointed to the file now sitting on my hospital table. "I'd like to ask you not to press charges. The Saunders' family would like to reimburse you for all medical expenses, including any future care you may need with regard to this injury, as well as a payment to cover any work-related expenses this injury may have incurred."

Reimburse you for all medical expenses
and
payment to cover any work related expenses
were the only words I heard. This could fix everything if I played my cards right.

"And if I said I still wanted to press charges, would I get all the shiny prizes?"

Rachel's eyebrows raised, and she cocked her head. "Yes. The Saunders family feels that they should make sure this accident does not end up changing your life. If you still feel the need to press charges and change Robbie's life, then that is purely your decision."

Her answer was obviously rehearsed, but it was what I wanted to hear. This wasn't supposed to be a bribe, but it was exactly what Grace, Avery, and I needed.

"I never intended to press charges against him. Call me sentimental, but I still consider him a friend." I shrugged. "I know that he must be going through something crazy hard if he broke his own rule. Besides, he saved me from drowning, so I would like to be able to thank him for that, even if he was the one who put me in the water."

Rachel's shoulders instantly relaxed. "Thank you. I really mean it too, not just as the Saunders' family representative, but as Robbie's friend. Thank you."

I remembered the skinny little boy with the bucket rolling around his feet. He was my best friend then, and I hadn't had another like him since. "He's my friend. Or at least he was a long time ago. And friends help each other with mistakes. He got me out of trouble a couple of times too."

Rachel looked for a moment as though she might ask what kind of trouble we had gotten into, but then she thought better of it. I grinned. There were things that would still get the two of us in trouble today if she found out about them.

"Out of curiosity, how much
is
the payment?" I asked.

Rachel answered, saying the number as though it were nothing. "Our standard is twenty-five thousand dollars. If you don't think that is going to be enough, I can always speak with the Saunders' lawyer and come up with a more equitable figure."

I swallowed hard. That was my year's salary. That would keep the roof over our head and groceries on the table. That would even get Avery a pretty decent Christmas. I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice. "Twenty-five thousand dollars? No, that's fine. That amount is just fine. It's good."

The rest of the meeting with Rachel went by in a blur. I read the papers as she put them in front of me; I didn't want to sign away my first-born or agree to donate a kidney if it was in the fine print. She waited patiently, indicating where I should sign and then collecting the forms in a neat stack.

"Thank you, Samantha. Can I get you anything before I go?" she asked.

"No thanks," I said, but then I thought of Robbie. If he was still the same caring person I knew as a kid, this would be eating him up from the inside. "Are you going to go see Robbie?"

She nodded, stowing her stylish glasses into a designer case and slipping them into the giant bag she called a purse.

"When you see him, will you tell him I'm all right? And that I'm not angry. I'd really like it if he came and visited me. For old time's sake." I hoped that wasn't overstepping some boundary, but despite everything that had happened, I wanted to see my old friend.

Rachel gave me a warm smile. "You got it. I'm sure he'll want to see you." She shouldered her bag and stood to leave. "Thank you again, Samantha. I hope I get to see you again soon, though preferably not in the hospital next time."

I laughed as she left the room, carefully closing the door behind her. I stared at the wooden door, a sense of relief flooding through me.
Twenty-five. Thousand. Dollars!
With that much money, I could relax. The medical bills weren't going to be a problem. While getting in a boat accident wasn't my idea of a lucky break, things were starting to look up.

T
he water splashes against the hull of my boat, a soft comforting sound. The sky is bright blue without a cloud in sight. I am at peace. This part of the dream is always pleasant. I like this part of the dream. Evan is alive and happy with Grace. Mom and Dad are safe at home, and we are going to have meatloaf for dinner.

Then, the rigging starts to tangle. Impossible knots form on the lines, turning the sails into flying monsters that catch the wind and threaten to tear my boat apart. A storm is rising from the depths of hell, the sky going black in an instant. The peace and calm is gone. I have to move quickly; if I'm fast enough, I can escape the storm before it gets to me. If I just go fast enough, maybe this time I can avoid the storm. My hands fumble on the rigging, and every movement seems delayed.

Wind howls through the now ripped and tangled sails, and giant waves slosh over the deck, threatening my every step. I wasn't fast enough. The storm has found me, and I can't escape it. If I had help, I would have made it, but by myself, I am too slow. I cling desperately to the mast, praying that the storm will stop.

I see my parents, sailing on a boat in the distance. Dad is at the helm, tied to the wheel as he tries to steer into the storm. I scream at him, but he doesn't hear. Mom turns and waves, the wind and rain twisting her hair, but she smiles at me. She taps Dad on the shoulder, then points toward me. Her sundress flaps in the hurricane winds, but she looks toward my boat with relief. They were looking for me.

Dad turns the boat and smiles, his eyes twinkling as he carefully makes his way across the choppy water. He doesn't see the ropes holding him down. They don't seem concerned with the storm raging around them. Lightning flashes and a gaping hole appears in their hull, water surging inside their small vessel. They are going to drown.

I scream, wrenching my yellow sails to reach them faster, praying myself ragged that they'll let me get to them in time. Dad turns his head, confusion crossing his face as the water laps at his ankles. He keeps going, my mother urging him toward me. They are so close, but in this storm, they are never going to make it. Their ship sinks lower and lower, the dark waves gobbling it up long before I can reach it. They're gone, the water devours them as though they never existed.

I sob, holding onto the main mast as my boat creaks and groans beneath me, barely staying afloat in the raging sea. They are gone and I am alone. But then, a beam of light cuts through the darkness. A new boat is coming, someone who can save me. Hope bubbles up within me and I stand tall. Evan stands on the prow of a mighty ship, his hand shielding his eyes from the spray. His Army dress uniform is beautiful and perfect, the way it was at his funeral. He points toward me, and his ship turns. I'm saved.

Lightning flashes, a hot thin jagged line of molten light crashing into Evan's ship. He looks back at it, his face contorting with terror. His ship is on fire. Orange and red flames engulf his ship in fire and he screams, sinking quickly into the black raging waters. I can see the light of the fire slowly fade into the black depths swallowed it completely.

I'm alone again. I have no sails left. The wind keeps on howling, and the rain stings as it hits me. I know that if someone else were here, this never would have happened. It's all my fault that I couldn't reach them in time. I wasn't fast enough to save them. I know in my bones that if someone had been there to help me trim the sails, I never would have hit that storm. I would have gotten home before anyone would have gone out to look for me. My parents never would have been out in that storm if it weren't for me. If they had survived, Evan wouldn't have joined the Army. He'd still be here too.

It was all my fault because I had sailed alone.

***

I
woke up in a cold sweat. The hospital room was unfamiliar at first, but moonlight from the window illuminated the room. I heard a quiet beeping at the nurses' station, and soft voices down the hall. I was safe. There was no storm. I willed my heartbeat to slow before it pounded out of my chest, but I knew I would have a hard time falling back asleep. I always did.

I hated that nightmare. It had started the day after my parents died. Grace insisted it wasn't my fault, but only a part of me believed her. My parents had gone out in the storm to look for me. I was the reason they were on the road the night their car crashed. If I hadn't been sailing by myself, if I hadn't been stupid enough to get caught in the storm, then they would never have been out in the rain. Their brakes would never have failed and that tree would have fallen on empty road. If someone had been out on that boat with me, they wouldn't have been so worried. I might not have even been in the storm in the first place.

No, despite Grace's kind words, their death was my fault. I sailed into a storm by myself, and they were worried. If someone had been with me, then everything would be different. The day they died, I swore never to sail alone.

The nightmare had stopped while Evan was with us. The first three years of Avery's life, the nightmares were gone. Evan kept us safe. I always sailed with someone, and things were going well. But then Evan died. I came home from a rough race to Grace's tear stained face and a man in a crisp uniform. My nightmare came back that night, and Evan became a part of it.

I flipped my pillow over, searching for the cool side. It always took me a while to fall back asleep after the nightmare. I hadn't had it for a few months, but with the recent accident, I could see why my brain had dredged it up. The sails being yellow, like my windsurfing sails, was the obvious connection between the nightmares and my accident.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing.

My eyes were growing heavy as I concentrated on keeping my breathing even. I had to be calm going back to sleep, or I'd fall into the nightmare again. It was a risk I took while trying to find rest again. Once the nightmare debuted for the night, it often stayed and replayed itself until morning. I was just drowsing off when a nurse popped her head into my room. She walked over and gently put her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but we have to do another concussion check," she whispered. I groaned and opened my eyes. At this rate, I was never going to get any sleep.

The nurse turned on the bathroom light, the weak yellow bulb casting strange shadows across the room. I sat up, getting ready to answer her questions and let her check my pupils; I yawned, but was actually okay with the fact she was keeping me up. If I was awake, I couldn't get stuck in the storm of my nightmare.

I
lay in bed watching bad TV. Some girl was waiting to hear the paternity test results for her baby and had narrowed it down to five possible guys. I shook my head at her, wondering exactly how she got herself into that situation. Two guys, I could understand. But five? That must have been some party. At least a celebrity dancing show was supposed to be on next. That I could understand.

I glanced at the clock. It was still early afternoon, but I was ready to get home. The concussion checks, as well as my nightmares, had made for a poor night's sleep, and the food was the usual terrible hospital fare. I was looking forward to going home to my own bed and my own fridge. As soon as the doctor came by to release me, I could leave. It was going to be a little while, though, as the nurses said he was stuck on an emergency case. Since the Saunders were covering my medical bills, I didn't really mind the wait. If nothing else, I was catching up on my trashy TV.

A soft knock on my door drew my attention. I was all dressed and ready to go, in just comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, but I still smoothed the front of my shirt. Hopefully it was the doctor coming to release me. I didn't want to have hospital food for dinner if I didn't have to.

"Come in," I called. The door opened slowly, and a tall figure stood in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside. It was Robbie. He closed the door carefully behind him, coming into the main area of the room and standing there awkwardly. I fumbled with the TV remote, finding the mute button first.

Robbie stood at the foot of my bed. The collar was crooked on his polo shirt, and wrinkles lined his pants; it looked as though he had slept in his clothes from the night before. I wondered when the last time he had shaved had been, as his five-o'clock shadow was more like a five-day shadow. It matched his sandy hair, messed and unruly. He didn't make eye contact, instead looking at the foot of my bed, his whole body radiating sorrow and regret.