Last Chance Proposal (2 page)

He picked up a shell and threw it out to sea. “They won’t be making it this year.”

Something tugged inside her. Cy had come all this way and wouldn’t be spending Christmas with his family? Something wasn’t right.

Share it with us,
she almost said.
Come and have an orphans’ Christmas with Fleur and me and Louis while my parents riverboat down the Danube, or whichever way they’d planned to avoid Christmas at the cove for another year
. But the words jammed in her mouth. Cy seemed preoccupied, closed even, and she wasn’t sure how he’d respond.

His voice was hollow. “It’ll just be the two of us for Christmas.”

“The two of you?”

“Me and my son, Jonty.”

“Your son.” The beat of her heart almost hijacked any more words. “How old is he?”

A dark shadow crawled across his features. Without hearing the words come out of his mouth, she knew the answer. The grim set of his face gave it away.

“He’s six.”

The familiar vision of her brother’s six-year-old body being pulled from the surf stamped for the millionth time in her mind. Her heart thudded, small and cramped in her throat. She set up the barriers as she’d always done, but the pain broke through.

Breathe.

“Ellie, I—”

He turned to her and she swung her attention to the sand to avoid his tortured stare. He’d been there that day, kissing her blind on a yacht when they should’ve been watching William. He’d know the chill dancing across her skin, the crater widening in her chest.

As her body quaked, he stepped closer before seeming to think better of it and kept on talking. “My son’s never been here. Katie Newport’s looking after him at the moment.” He shook his head as they drew up in front of his family’s holiday home. Surrounded by bleached logs and waist-high sea grass, it seemed to snooze on the sand. “I can’t believe she’s sixteen.”

“I know, it’s scary, right? The way time passes.”

He scraped a hand across his jaw. “Jonty’s finding everything strange. Being somewhere so new without his own things around him, it’s tough.”

“So he’s never been to New Zealand at Christmas?”

“He’s only been to Auckland once, when he was two. But that wasn’t with me. He’s never even been to the beach.”

“You own surf stores and he’s never been to the beach?”

“We live in Colorado, that’s—” He shifted his eyes away. “We
have
to live in Colorado.”

The sun’s rays through the trees freckled on his skin as he crossed his arms.

“Is that where his mother lives?”

An indefinable cloud cast across Cy’s features, and she could’ve kicked herself for her question.

You hardly know him anymore.
She swallowed
. If you ever did.
“I’m sorry.” She waved her hand in apology. “I have no right asking.”

“You don’t have children, do you?”

She squeezed the handle of the briefcase tighter. “No, I don’t. My career’s taking off and I’m doing these sorts of projects all over the world. That’s my passion. My love.” Movement out the corner of her eye caused her to turn, and from the Hathaway house came Katie Newport and a small boy with tousled, corn-colored hair. The image of his dad.

“Bringing families back to this place is so important.” He looked at his son. “I want Jonty to have the same sorts of holidays I did growing up here. The outdoors, the sense of community, the innocence.” He threw her a smile and her skin tingled. “I might live in the States, but I still like to know what’s going on here. Sorry I missed all the important information at the meeting. Could we meet up to talk about what’s happening?”

She bit her lip as she watched Katie encouraging the little boy to come forward. Each time the girl tried to touch him, he wrenched his body away and stood staring at them, a brightly colored scarf wound like a bandage around his hand.

Cy walked toward him but stopped a few feet away and crouched, his voice holding a tenderness that caused her vision to mist. “Hey, bud. I bet you had fun with Katie.”

The boy didn’t reply but kept staring past his father to Ellie as Cy spoke quietly. “Why don’t we go up to the house and have a snack, eh?”

Still the boy stood rigid and silent.

“I have to get to New Year’s pageant practice, Mr. Hathaway,” Katie said.

“Sure, Katie. Thanks for looking after Jonty.” He paused and tension wrapped around his words. “Was everything all right?”

The pretty girl smiled but concern creased her flawless forehead. “He didn’t want to do anything other than sit on the bed with his scarf. I tried to get him to play on the sand but he wouldn’t.”

“Don’t worry. I shouldn’t have left him.” His voice was light but the depth of concern on Cy’s face hit Ellie like a blunt instrument. “You go,” he said to Katie. “And thanks.”

“I’ll see you later, Jonty. ’Bye, Ellie.” Katie shot them both a grin and jogged down the beach.

“Hi there,” Ellie chirped as she crouched down. The poor little boy seemed scared stiff, or cripplingly shy. “Your daddy tells me your name’s Jonty,” she said brightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Jonty. What do you think Santa Claus might bring you next week? I’m really hoping he brings me a new boogie board.”

Still the little boy stood motionless, staring at her with liquid blue eyes.

Cy turned to her, his face holding endless grief. “Ellie, Jonty has selective mutism. He doesn’t speak.”

Chapter Two

Cy scanned Ellie’s face for a reaction and locked a response in his chest. His throat dried as silence wrapped around them, thick and terrible.

He could tell by the tilt of someone’s head whether they felt pity for his son, or suspicious about why a six-year-old couldn’t or wouldn’t speak.

Ellie took off her sunglasses, knelt down, and picked up a perfect white shell from the glittering sand. As she held it flat in her palm and lifted her face, Cy could’ve hugged her for the way she looked at his boy, her eyes shining with kindness. This wasn’t the girl he’d remembered; she was something altogether different. Captivating, radiant, with a presence that drew him close. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. The tension he’d carried for months began to slip from his shoulders. He could do this,
they
could do this, but he had to ask her in the right moment.

Her voice, low and musical, pulled him to the present. “Can you hear me, Jonty?” Staring at the sand, his son chewed his lip and Cy stilled as he waited for a reaction. It was so important that this first meeting between them was a positive one.

Cy’s belly pulled tight and he looked from Jonty to Ellie and nodded in reply to her question, desperate not to break the spell as he watched the tiniest of frowns scar the pale skin between her eyebrows. He drew a deeper breath. God, she was beautiful and so absolutely the right person to help them. If everything went well, maybe he could win her back for good.

She looked at his son intently. “You know something really amazing?” Her face again broke into a sunny smile. “Your daddy and I used to play on this beach when we were smaller. Probably right where we’re standing now.” With a slender finger, she gently brushed sand from the shell. “We’d meet down here after breakfast and build huts from driftwood, or make castles with towers and moats. And one of our very favorite things to do was find shells and listen to the sound of the sea.” She paused in mock concentration as she lifted the shell to her ear. “Hey, we might’ve picked up this very same shell all those years ago.”

Jonty’s eyes flicked up at her and a hole drilled deep in Cy’s chest.
Please let this work.

“Would you like to listen, Jonty?”

Holding out the shell again, she moved as if to get closer to his damaged child, to let a little boy from the city hear the sound of the ocean in the shell’s cool, hollow depths. But instead of his son’s face lighting up, instead of him racing forward and reaching for the shell and eagerly putting it to his ear, Jonty turned in a wild arc and ran back to the house, his hair shivering in the wind, the scarf like a frenzied snake whipping out behind him.

Cy forced his legs to stay rigid as blood pumped cold through his veins. He struggled to hold still and not sprint after his son. To not call and try to comfort as he’d done so many times before. It only ever made it worse. Jonty would be ready to form a relationship with Ellie in his own time, but they only had two weeks until they needed to be back in the States. There was so much at stake, but forcing the issue wasn’t going to help.

“Oh, no!” Ellie’s voice dipped as she stood and clutched the shell to her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

He took a step forward as her eyes widened, face ashen.

“I didn’t mean to—”

He put his hand on her waist and awareness flooded him as the warmth of her skin seeped through her woolen jacket. It was the first time he’d touched her since he’d arrived. He should’ve hugged her tight when he’d seen her again, not treated her like a stranger, but this new sense of her made him hesitate. She was still distant and he needed to tread carefully. “It wasn’t you,” he said.

“I hope not, but I still feel awful. Should you go to him? He looked terrified.”

“I will in a minute. When he’s had a chance to catch his breath and calm down.” He clenched his fingers into his palm, the pain of blunt fingernails comforting. “He’s had the same sort of reaction a hundred times before, and if I don’t respond properly, it can be a disaster. If I go to him too quickly, he gets more anxious. I stop myself from picking him up and hugging him, telling him it’ll be all right. I have to wait until he’s ready. He has the physical ability to talk and will when he feels completely safe. “ The words fell heavy from his mouth, sterile and rehearsed so she couldn’t hear what the condition truly meant for him. “Sometimes, when it’s just the two of us and then only a couple of words. But most of the time he can’t speak.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s that in many situations he can’t. Jonty hasn’t spent much time with me since he was born, but I’m hoping to get custody from his grandparents now.”

“Oh, Cy. That must be so difficult.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, afraid of what she might see if he did. A father terrified he’d screw his son’s life up even more. He tensed muscles, ready for more questions, but he had to tell her all this so she’d understand why he’d come here, why he needed her help. He shrugged, but the tension in his shoulders was bolted on. “His doctor wants to begin a new regime of treatment.”

“Is that why you came here? For a vacation before the treatment starts?”

She looked up at him, and he almost told her the truth, but now wasn’t the time. Tonight, when it could be just the two of them, without any distractions. That’s when he’d ask her. “Something like that.”

She took a step toward him, and for a minute he thought she might hug him. The call of her body was as fresh as it had been that one perfect afternoon eight years ago, and he couldn’t let himself be distracted. Ellie had to trust him now.

He scanned the shoreline and let the hypnotic rhythm of the waves slow his body. “I hope I can always bring him here.”

“Cy…I…” She trapped a lip between her teeth and reached out to him. “You will be able to, now the restoration’s happening.”

He turned to face her and her hand fell away. “Do you have time to go through some of it?”

She tilted her head and frowned a little. “Now’s not the time to talk about the project,” she said quietly. “We can get together later.”

“When?”

“When you’ve settled in. After Christmas, maybe.”

“How about tonight?”

Her forehead tightened before she spoke. “Okay, where shall we meet? The Blue Tui?”

“I can’t leave Jonty,” he said. “You’ll have to come to my place. After eight, when he’s asleep.”

When Cy opened the door later that evening, Ellie stood on the bottom step. A kick of heat punched through his body, the unfamiliar sensation shocking him. Unlike earlier, her hair was a loose cloud around her shoulders, and the dark suit had been replaced by a white sundress that showcased the honey tan of her skin. An orange cardigan was tied at her waist and she held a plate of brightly colored cupcakes in one hand, a briefcase in the other.

“What do you know about wounded pukeko chicks?” he said. “Jonty’s asleep, but I promised I’d ask as soon as you got here.”

“A little.” She rose on tiptoe to peer into the cardboard box he was holding, and a scent of spring flowers and sunshine filled his senses. “Isn’t he beautiful? Where’d you find him?”

He breathed her in again before she stepped back. “Jonty and I found him lolloping around the house. Seems he’s done something to one of his toes. There’s a bit of a tear on his skin.” The swamp hen scratched in the bottom of the box, its inky-black feathers fluffed around it like a tutu, its enormous wading feet slithering. Cy led Ellie inside. “I told Jonty if anyone knew how to look after a chick, you would.”

“He’s a long way from home,” she said. “Pukekos usually stay off the beach. Maybe give him some bread and milk, keep the box covered so it’s dark.” She walked to the kitchen and put the plate on the counter. “He might fancy some of Fleur’s Cranberry Carol Cupcakes.”

“Thanks for those. You can put your things down anywhere.”

“He won’t survive around here too long with all those grouchy seagulls, especially if he’s cut. We fixed up a weka that had been caught in a rattrap once. What sort of first-aid kit do you have? We might find some eucalyptus oil to clean the cut, at least.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve been here. Let’s take a look in the bathroom cupboard. Mum used to keep stuff in there.”

They made their way to the tiny bathroom. He’d hesitated when Jonty had shown him the chick, but it was the first thing his little boy had taken any interest in since they’d arrived, and he wanted to do what he could for it. He bent down to a bottom cupboard and tugged at the door.

“The green basin and tub!” Ellie exclaimed.

Cy turned, a smile digging into his cheeks. “Pure seventies style. Mum wanted to redesign in here, but Kelly and I wouldn’t let her. There’s something special about taking a bath in a green tub.”

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned closer to a shelf. “And you still have that little fish skeleton we found on Paige’s Point! That must be fifteen years old.”

He looked back into the cupboard. “Don’t know if there’ll be anything useful in here.” He stood and handed her a raggedy bag and she unzipped it, then riffled through, shaking her head. “We can’t use any of these things. They’ll be too strong on his delicate skin. I think I have some lavender oil back at Starfish. I’ll call the bird sanctuary tomorrow and ask if that would be okay to use. I’ll find out if they can take him as well. Might be difficult at holiday time, though.”

Their gazes met, and in a beat of silence his breath stalled in his chest. Where had the years gone? The lazy days when all he’d had to worry about was catching the next wave, not how he could survive without his son. “It’s great to see you again, Ellie. I’m sorry we lost touch.”

She ran her tongue across her bottom lip and shifted against the bathroom vanity. “A lot of water under the bridge since then.” She cast a glance at the doorway.

“Do you think about it much?” he asked quietly as he leaned against the wall. “Those times?” They’d barely spoken about their life before. He could hardly ask her to become his wife when the terrible elephant was still suffocating them in the corner of the room.

She breathed deep then blew out softly. “Of course. A lot happened in my life back then and it took me a long time to work through everything.”

“This time of year must be really hard.”

She blinked and her eyes glistened. “William died on the twenty-eighth of December. I can still remember the way the sun scorched my skin, the sound of the breakers after the storm, the way the sand trapped my feet when I started running to him. It should’ve been such a perfect summer’s day.”

He nodded, his chest tightening at the memory. If it still hurt when
he
thought about that day, what must it be like for her?

She held her hand in her hair. “I can still remember the way Mum’s body looked when the paramedic told her William was dead, sort of broken, as if all her bones had come loose. I can’t smell that brand of sunscreen without wanting to vomit.”

“Does coming here make it harder for you?”

She blinked and smiled widely. “No way. I’ve learned to accept the terrible times with the great times. They’re all memories to cherish because they’ve made me who I am. I love coming back here. Couldn’t imagine not having Rata Cove in my life.”

She spoke with the power of someone who’d learned to find the beauty in life again.

“How about Fleur? How does she cope?”

“It’s different for her. She wasn’t there. Wasn’t responsible like I was.”

“Like
we
were.”

“No.” Her tone was definite. “Not we.”

He remembered how they’d made William promise to stay making sandcastles, said they’d be back soon. And while her little brother was chasing after his hat that had blown off into the water, they’d been having sex on his father’s yacht, oblivious to the tragedy unfolding only meters away. William’s safety had been just as much his responsibility as it was Ellie’s. If he hadn’t been so focused on making love to her, it would all have been different.

“Did you want to ask me something more about the restoration? I can’t stay long as I said I’d sit with Louis while Fleur goes out to visit friends.”

“I do have a few questions. Let’s go through to the lounge.”

When they’d moved back into the lounge, he offered her a glass of wine.

She sat down at the huge table. “Thanks.” She unlatched the briefcase. “I’ve brought some plans for you to look through. I’ve told everyone I’m open to submissions until the end of next week, but I won’t be working Christmas day, of course. What are your plans for Christmas dinner?”

He poured a glass of golden wine, passed it, and pulled up a chair beside her. His stomach pulled in a sharp knot and he cleared his throat.

…

He shook his head and clasped his hands together on the table. The stubble on his chin had grown darker since this afternoon and made him look like a casually elegant movie star. “I haven’t given much thought to Christmas Day, to be honest.”

Ellie searched Cy’s face. He looked more strained than yesterday, as if the weight of the world was gradually wearing him down. Maybe it was the conversation they’d just had in the bathroom, but she was glad they’d acknowledged the past. It might be years before she saw Cy again, and besides, it was Christmastime.

“We’d love to have you at our house for Christmas dinner if you think it’s something Jonty would like. We can show him a real New Zealand beach Christmas, strawberries and pavlova and a swim in the sea after lunch. What do you say?”

“Ellie.” He put his hand on hers and sparks flew up her arm. His jaw had tightened and a muscle danced under the skin. There was something powerful, almost frightening in his eyes. “I need your help.”

“My help?” The crease on his forehead deepened, and she played with the pen in front of her. “Sure, if I can. What do you need?”