Summer Sunsets (23 page)

“
Very funny.” She frowns.
“How did you even get in?”

“
The little old guy who owns
the cabins remembered we often came together. I convinced him I was
supposed to be here with you.”

“
How did you know I was
here? I didn’t tell anyone.” She leans back against the couch,
making her hair poof out around her head.

“
You didn’t have to. I know
you, Skye. It took a few minutes to get inside your head and figure
out where you’d go, but it wasn’t hard. This seems to be the only
place you feel like you’re free.” I stretch for a moment, more to
make sure when I hit I didn’t damage anything except my pride. I
mean I’m a lot taller than Skye, but she flipped me like that
didn’t even matter. Kudos to her self-defense teacher. I sit on the
couch next to her.

“
You shouldn’t be here,” she
finally says, looking away. Interesting how she goes from feeling
bad about throwing me on the floor to wanting me to leave, but I
know no self-defense class is going to protect Skye on the inside.
The more vulnerable she feels, the harder she’ll try to push me
away—not that it’s going to work, mind you.

“
And why is that?” I ask,
trying to engage her eyes. She won’t look at me.

“
Devin, there’s just some
stuff I have to think about—some things I have to decide on. That’s
why I came here.”

I lean toward her and set
my hand on her knee. “That doesn’t make sense, Skye, not unless
there’s someone back there you’re trying to leave behind—say your
dad or me.”

Her gaze jerks in my
direction, and now I know I have her attention. I also know I’m
onto something just by the emotional reaction. “I don’t know what
you’re talking about.” Her nostrils flare, and I can tell she’s
having a difficult time keeping things on an even keel. Part of her
wants to react the way the old Skye would’ve, but then again, she
really doesn’t want to go to visit all the places she ended up
because of the old Skye. Even I know that much.

“
Don’t you?” I ask softly.
I’m challenging her, thinking if I try to draw it out, at least the
topic will be on her terms, making her feel more comfortable with
it. “You can lie to a lot of people, Skye, but I’m not one of them.
I might as well have known you my whole life, and I’m not going to
back away because you’re scared. You know I don’t work that
way.”

Her shoulders sink, and I
feel the tension working through her body. Although I’d like to
believe that if she were pregnant, she’d just tell me, the more I
sit here, watching her, the more I think I’m right. I just don’t
get why she won’t say something.

“
It’s complicated, Devin.”
She starts to stand, but I grab her arm.

“
What’s complicated? The
fact that I love you? That I’ve always loved you? Or is it
something else, something I already have a pretty good idea I
know?”

The color abruptly leaves
her face, and she exhales a stuttering breath, obviously unsettled
I might already know her secret. She looks down at my hand, and
while I want to keep holding on, I ease my fingers from around her
elbow and release it. She immediately stands.

“
I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

Her voice is quiet, and in
that moment, I realize she’s never going to willingly admit what’s
happening. It scares her too much. I mean, look what happened the
last time she got pregnant. She’s probably scared that this time
will somehow end up the same. Instead of talking more, she gives me
her backside and stares out the window at the water rolling toward
the shore. Even though the windows are closed, it’s impossible not
to hear the sound of the surf.

“
All right. You don’t want
to talk. That’s fine. I’ve got plenty to say.” I get up and step
toward her, my shoes thumping against the floor, giving her time to
get used to the idea I’m right behind her. She doesn’t
turn.

“
I just want to be
alone.”

“
Sorry. That’s not one of
the options. I gently take her hand and turn her toward me, well
aware she’s going to keep staring at the floor until I give her a
reason to stop, and I’m planning on that. She just doesn’t have a
clue what’s coming.

“
While I’m a lot of things,
I’m not dense, Skye. Both of us know that. I’m not exactly unaware
of certain things. You were vomiting yesterday. You wanted to pick
up something from Walgreens, something you sure as hell didn’t want
me to know about. And then you take off like Satan himself is
chasing you. All of those things point to one simple point, yet
another thing you don’t want to talk about: you’re
pregnant.”

Her shoulders sags and she
almost falls. That’s enough to tell me I’m right, no matter what
comes out of her mouth. Although she lets me hold her for a second
to stabilize her, just as soon as she’s sure-footed again, she
tries to pull away.

“
Devin, I just need some
time to think.”

I won’t let her go. “Maybe
you do need time to think. I get that. But running away and
pretending like you’re the only one in this isn’t fair—not to me,
and not to the baby.”

Tears prick her eyes, and
she tries to blink them away. Her lips part like she wants to say
something, but she can’t seem to find the words or the energy to
form them, even if she knew what they should be. So we just stare
at one another, this damned invisible elephant between us. I won’t
budge, and neither will she.

“
Say something,” I finally
demand, figuring she at least owes me that much, as I’ve been up
all night and yet never once considered letting her go as she
thought I might. I really had hoped she knew me better.

“
You don’t understand.” She
walks back to the couch and I can tell it’s because she wants to
put space between us, and if she thinks she needs a little bit of
wiggle room, I’ll give her that, I think, staying put.

“
What is it I don’t
understand?” I start to say more but force myself to shut up and
let her get it out.

“
We’re not married. I don’t
even have a job. Neither do you.”

“
That’s your best shot?” I
ask, reaching into my pocket where the ring is hiding, and once I
pull it out, I kneel in front of her, holding it up. “Skye, I love
you. Will you marry me?”

The first cue that this has
gone wrong is that she just stares at the ring, her eyes growing
wider, giving her the same frightened appearance as when she was
sixteen and pregnant, back when the world was practically caving in
around her. “Devin, don’t do this.” Her voice is quiet, and that
scares me. If she were screaming, it would mean she wasn’t nearly
so far away. It’s quiet Skye that means she’s practically
unreachable.

I wait a few seconds
longer, hoping she’ll take the ring, but she doesn’t. Instead, she
closes her eyes, shutting both the ring and me out, so I get up.
“Okay, do what, Skye? What is it I’m doing that’s so
wrong?”

She folds her arms across
her chest. “You’re throwing your life away. Because of
me.”

I step back, emotionally
reeling because I sure hadn’t expect that. Maybe she meant to hurt
me, but I don’t think so. No, that was what she honestly felt…about
herself. So I take a deep breath and step toward her. “Wasting my
life? That’s what you think? Because you’re pregnant,
right?”

“
Yeah.” She averts her eyes,
preferring the carpet to my face.

“
Sorry to shatter that
illusion, Skye.” I look down at the ring. “I’ve had this ring since
before I came back from college, and I’ve been trying every way I
know to propose without scaring you off. Maybe you think this is a
pity party, but it’s not. I wanted you long before we made love, I
want you more now, and I’ll find two damned jobs if I have to. I’ve
already got an interview next week. But one way or another, I want
us to have this baby. Together.”

“
You don’t know what you’re
saying,” she whispers.

I slip my finger beneath her
chin and force her to look at me. “I know
exactly
what I’m saying, and whom I’m
saying it to. The only thing you have to do is give me the answer
in your heart because that’s the only one that matters.”

Once again, I kneel in
front of her, taking her hand in mine. “Skye Nicole Williams, you
are the best part of my life. Will you do me the honor of becoming
my wife?”

I look at her face,
wondering if she’ll still fight me. For a moment, I see pain
wavering in her face. Then she answers, her lips trembling as tears
spill down her face.

“
Yes.”

She shivers, as though she
didn’t even know what she was going to say, and I pull her into my
arms and kiss her face. “That’s my girl.” I look down at her ankle.
“How is your ankle?”

“
It’s better. I propped it
up after getting her, and that helped a lot, at least until I
flipped you.”

I shake my head. “Hey,
don’t blame me. That was all you.”

For a moment, we just sit
there, locked in each other’s arms and knowing there is no more
perfect place for us to be. Hell, we’d probably stay here all day
if my cell wasn’t ringing.

I start to pull away, and
she whispers, “You’re not going to get that, are you?”

I nod. “’Fraid so. You only
left Helen and Warren fit to be tied—and my mom’s a huge
worry-wart. Then again, you knew that.”

Looking at the display, I
see Warren’s name. “It’s Warren,” I tell her and flip it open.
“Hello?”

“
Devin, did you find
Skye?”

I look over at her and
wink. “Yeah. She’s fine.”

“
Thank God.”

I can tell by his breathy,
panicked voice something is wrong on his end. “Warren? Is something
wrong?”

“
It’s Helen. She had a
stroke. She’s in ICU now.”

“
Okay. I’ll let Skye know.
We’ll get packed and head back. It’s going to take us most of the
day to get back.”

I snap the phone shut, all
the while dreading what’s coming, and I can feel Skye staring at me
like I’ve grown another head.

“
What’s going
on?”

“
Your mom had a stroke, and
we need to get back.”

Immediately, both hands
rush to her face, covering her nose and mouth. I can hear the sharp
intake of breath as fear overcomes her. “Oh, God. Is she all
right?”

“
She’s in ICU. I told Warren
we’ leave now to get back there as soon as we can.”

Chapter
Seventeen

Back in high school, I
didn’t have a problem staying up most of the night; however, the
whole drive home, I feel myself fighting sleep, and there’re a few
times it almost wins as I follow Skye. The drive seems to take
forever, and I imagine Skye sitting behind the wheel, her left arm
propped on the door and her hand supporting her head—the usual Skye
driving position.

She’s got a million things
to think about, and this drive isn’t helping anyone, least of all
her. By the time we pull into the hospital parking lot, I’m
grateful for the chance to stretch my legs. It’s not like there’s
not ample leg-room in the Jeep; it’s just hard to get comfortable
there, and even as I get out and stretch, Skye is eyeing the front
entrance while talking on the phone, probably confirming Helen’s
room number.

She snaps the phone shut
and turns to me, the keys dangling from her hand. “She’s in
148.”

“
Let’s go.” I slip my arm
around her, my hand resting on her lower back.

I can tell by the way she
leans close she’s scared as hell, and I don’t blame her. This has
definitely made me think about my parents in a different light—one
of gratitude and recognition of my stupid moments. I guess we
always expect our parents are incapable of dying, that they’ll
always be there so that when we finally figure things out, we can
talk with them.

But they aren’t immortal,
and one day, they, too, will leave us. It’s not about what anybody
wants; it just happens. I’m praying today isn’t that day for Skye.
I want this to be the happiest day she’s known, and I want Helen to
be able to know Skye’s future is safe.

We slip into the lobby,
where a handful of people sit talking. A few others stand at the
reception desk, asking for room numbers. Glancing at the elevators,
we head that way and take the first car to the next
floor.

The dietary staff is
handing out dinner trays, cluttering the halls as they go, and the
two of us gainfully dodge the trays and workers while searching for
Helen’s room. When we get there, we find the door closed. Skye
looks at me, and I look back. Then she decides to grab the handle
and push.

Only the sunlight drifting
through the half-open curtains fills the room and casts away the
dusky darkness. Warren stands with his back to us as he looks out
the window at a terrible view of the roof. Helen is lying in bed,
her face pale against the light blue sheets, and she’s still,
almost as though a statue lies there. Skye takes one look at her,
and a shudder rips through her. She gasps, and once she can manage
to speak whispers, “Warren?”

Skye’s voice is stark,
alien here, and I suddenly feel like I’m in a church sanctuary
awaiting a funeral. Warren turns. He senses her, that she is racing
towards him, and catches her in his arms as though she were five,
drawing Skye close. His face is pale, too, and he eyes me
worriedly, like he doesn’t know what to say, either. The typical
reassuring calm is gone, and even he looks lost, which tells me
just how seriously Skye’s world is about to be rocked.