Just Another Day in Paradise Page 8

  A few minutes later he realized he was supposed to be in a meeting, and he snapped at Barry Rutherford’s young assistant, who had hunted him down to remind him.

  Great. What the hell else can go wrong? he muttered to himself as he turned and hurried toward the main building. And then, wary of the way things had been going today, he added, Don’t answer that!

  Paige shut the door behind her and leaned against it. She was gasping as if she’d run the length of the island and shivering as if that island were Iceland.

  Kyle, thankfully, was shut in his room; she could see the door closed against her from here. She made her way to the lanai and dropped down into one of the lounges facing the water.

  She hadn’t thought it was possible for the situation around Phil’s death to be any worse. Obviously, she’d been as big a fool about that as she had been about everything else.

  Everything surrounding that time was now even uglier. She couldn’t bear to wonder what Noah must have thought then. And now that she knew all of Redstone had known the truth, she wondered if he’d really been chosen to come because he’d just been in Portugal.

  More likely, he got the short straw, she thought. And got jumped by the widow for his trouble.

  In a convulsive movement she curled up on the lounge, drawing her knees up as if she could somehow save herself from damage already done. She felt the tears begin, fought them helplessly, uselessly. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry for a very long time, but now she couldn’t stop.

  She wished she could just stay here, lock the door and hide until Noah left the island. Never have to face him again. But she couldn’t. She had children to teach, children she’d made a commitment to—including the stubborn boy in the next room—and she had to honor that commitment. And she would. The best she could do was try to avoid running into Noah.

  She lay there, trying uselessly not to think for a long time. The tears slowed and finally stopped. Gradually her shaking stopped, as well, but the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach lingered on and on. She tried taking long, deep breaths, and it helped a little. And after a while her body began to return to normal. Her mind, however, continued to churn.

  The breeze picked up, as it always did in the evenings. It brought her the scent of the flowers, frangipani and a variety of ginger, the head gardener had told her.

  She’d been moved by all the flowers Redstone had sent to Phil’s funeral. And by the Redstone people who had shown up. Now all she could think of was that they’d all known, all been there because they felt sorry for the poor, cheated-on wife. How many of them had known what Phil was doing? Had some of them even met the woman?

  She shivered anew and wrapped her arms tighter around herself. Even Joshua Redstone had come, and the tall, lanky, unassuming man had graciously—and she would have sworn sincerely—offered his condolences and any help that he or his company could give her.

  Maybe he hadn’t known. Maybe it hadn’t filtered up that far.

  You’re not that lucky, she told herself bitterly.

  And then, spiking through her like an unexpected shaft of light, came the thought, But you’re luckier than she was.

  That cooled her anger a little. In those days, five years ago, she had been devastated by the discovery that the husband she had loved hadn’t loved her at all. But the thought of the nameless and thankfully faceless woman who had literally died for Phil’s brand of love gave her back a little perspective.

  She sat up, wiping at her burning eyes. She retreated to her bedroom, where she tried to mask the ravages of her outburst as best she could. Not that Kyle would notice or care in his current mood, but she didn’t want to have to explain. Or lie. There’d been enough lies. Too many lies.

  She got through the next day fairly well, she thought. If Kyle noticed anything wrong, he didn’t want to talk to her enough to find out what. Even when she told him he was released from the house—with the same rules in effect—he’d barely spoken.

  She didn’t see Noah, which helped. She wondered if he were avoiding her, too, considering rarely had a day gone by that she hadn’t seen him at least two or three times. In fact, she only realized now a day hadn’t gone by since he’d been here that they hadn’t talked. Not just said hello in passing, but actually talked. She didn’t realize until now how much she’d looked forward to those moments, even with all the baggage they had between them.

  Which was nothing compared to the baggage between them now.

  “You’re whining,” she said aloud that night when she felt tears threaten again. “What difference does it make if the whole world knew before you did? It doesn’t change the facts.”

  That made her feel better, so she added, “And it wasn’t Noah’s fault. It was none of his business really, and you should be thankful he even tried.”

  That said, she turned out the light and got the first decent sleep she’d had in two days.

  By the next morning she had her equilibrium and her composure back. She managed to be cheerful enough during the early session to annoy Kyle, who then stayed at school for lunch period. Although she suspected that the fact Lani was usually there, as well, had something to do with that.

  She had to admit not dealing with her cranky son made her own lunch break much sunnier. She even left early to go back to the school, feeling like someone going outside for the first time after an illness; everything seemed a bit clearer, more vivid, in sharper focus.

  She was startled when she glimpsed a young man in what looked like camouflage pants back in the trees above the resort, but guessed he must be an employee she hadn’t met yet or a son of one of the locals. Even Kyle had a pair of those pants, but she was surprised the trend had spread this far.

  Wondering if she would find Kyle and Lani in another esoteric discussion, she headed toward the schoolhouse.

  Shoving his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants Rider leaned back against the wall of the pool house, where the recreation director was giving him the final inventory count on towels, chairs, bottles of suntan lotion and all the other equipment that came with the territory. He’d been paying attention, too. At least, he had been until he’d caught a glimpse of sunlight on coppery hair.

  He watched Paige walk across the courtyard, heading, he guessed, for the schoolhouse. He’d made sure to be scarce yesterday, trying to give her the distance he guessed she needed since he’d so clumsily betrayed that her husband’s desertion had been, if not common knowledge, then at least hardly a secret.

  But it hadn’t been easy. He’d had to fight the urge to go to her, to try and make her understand he’d never meant to hurt her or make things worse than they already were. He’d hated leaving that night. He’d meant it when he’d told her he had planned to dump his scheduled departure for Tokyo and stay until the divorce papers had arrived. He’d even had some idea about intercepting them. But he’d been tied up with the funeral arrangements most of the day, never guessing that of all days that would be the one when they arrived.

  And then, after that unexpected, passionately hot embrace and kiss, she had virtually ordered him to leave. She’d been embarrassed, he knew, but until now he’d had no idea what else she’d been feeling. …five years of sleepless nights.

  In the midst of the emotional turmoil he took some small comfort in that. He’d thought himself alone in those restless nights.

  A movement in the distant trees caught his eye. He straightened up, pulling off his sunglasses as he narrowed his eyes. It was a man, no one he’d seen before, and it took Rider a moment to figure out why he was so hard to see. And then, as the man headed in the same general direction Paige had, he stepped into a brighter spot among the trees. Rider saw that he was dressed in the traditional green camouflage, doing what it was supposed to in the thick greenery around the resort. He looked young and seemed to know where he was going.

  Or he was following somebody who knew where they were going, he thought suddenly.

  Paige?

  He considered tha
t as he pulled a pen out of the pocket of the Hawaiian shirt he’d resorted to again today—it had become clear to him why they were popular in tropical climes—and signed off on the clipboard the recreation director handed him. He considered the possibility that the man was here to meet her. The thought that she might be seeing someone here hadn’t occurred to him. Besides, she’d told him there was no one.

  His mouth twisted. Maybe she’d decided it was time. Maybe he’d somehow driven her to it with his own idiocy.

  Maybe, he thought, he should quit dealing in maybes and just find out. He didn’t like the fact that this guy seemed to be skulking through the trees, anyway. As Redstone’s highest-ranking representative on-site, he should go find out what the guy was doing. It was his job, after all.

  “Thanks, Mario,” he said.

  “We’re all ready for the weekend, Mr. Rider. No problems here.”

  “I can see that. Good job.”

  The man turned to lock up. Rider checked his cell phone for messages, and when for once he found none, he headed up toward the trees. But the man in green was nowhere in sight now, and Rider wondered if he was just some local come to see the resort that had grown on this end of his island.

  He pondered his next move for a moment, then started toward the schoolhouse. It couldn’t hurt.

  The little building, painted a traditional white, looked absolutely picturesque, he thought as he reached the clearing. There was still no sign of the man, but there were several children milling around outside, some playing, some finishing lunches they’d apparently brought with them. And there was Paige. She must have stopped to talk to someone—the man in the camouflage pants?—for she was just now going up the steps, amid cheerful waves from many of the children.

  And off to one side Rider saw Paige’s son, looking miserable. Things must still be strained between him and his mother, Rider thought. But then he saw that Kyle was intently, almost hungrily watching an exotically lovely young girl who was talking to another boy, and he realized there was more than just his home situation making the boy unhappy.

  He stood watching for a moment, but then turned his attention to the schoolhouse. He’d worked on the plans, and Paige had told him how it had turned out, but he hadn’t made it over there to see it yet in person. He did need to check it out, he told himself. It was on his list, waiting to be signed off. And besides, he was curious to see how the changes he’d made worked in actual use.

  And it would be a chance to see if Paige was still furious at him.

  He headed toward the stairs. A few of the kids he’d met already recognized him and waved, although not with the obvious affection they’d shown Paige. Kyle glanced his way, seemed surprised to see him there but didn’t wave. He supposed the boy was still mad at him, too, for siding with his mother over his attitude.

  He still didn’t understand it. How could that kid be so downright nasty to his mother, who not only far from deserved it but was also the only parent he had left? How could he still glorify a father who had died in the act of abandoning him for life, who had cared so little for his own son that he hadn’t even said goodbye?

  It made no sense to him. He’d loved his mother dearly, but he still remembered how angry he’d been when she’d died, even knowing she certainly hadn’t chosen to leave him. If she had instead done what Kyle’s father had done, he doubted he ever would have forgiven her.

  And Paige had clearly tried so hard to make it easier on the boy. She—

  He stopped in his tracks.

  She had tried hard to make it easier on her son. Of course she had; what else would a woman who was capable of feeling compassion for the woman who had broken up her marriage do? And a woman who could do that…

  She hadn’t told him.

  Chapter 7

  The minute the thought formed in his head, Rider knew it was the truth. Paige had never told her son the real truth behind his father’s death. Had never told him they were being abandoned, deserted, tossed aside for something newer, flashier, less complicated. And so Kyle had developed this idealized image of a man who could never do anything to tarnish it. It was the only explanation for the way the boy still idolized his father.

  And it would be like her to keep that knowledge buried in her, carrying the burden alone so that her son wouldn’t have to. And there was a decent chance Kyle would never encounter anyone who would know, or even if they did, would ever tell him his father had had every intention of never seeing him again.

  The depth and strength of that kind of love amazed him. He wasn’t sure he—or any man—was capable of it. But then he realized he had living proof of a man who did, in his own way. His father. He’d brought Rider’s mom home to die, and he’d nursed her, cared for her until the very end, never complaining, treasuring each minute with the woman he loved stolen from the grim reaper. And he himself had given the old man some tough times in those years after his mother’s death, but his dad never gave up.

  He wondered if he had that kind of strength in him somewhere. If that kind of thing could be hereditary. He could only hope.

  He started moving again, taking the four steps to the raised porch two at a time. It was an old-fashioned, one-room schoolhouse, built the way many buildings in the tropics were—raised off the ground to let air circulate beneath and to help avoid water damage in case of storm surge. But it was completely modern, with the indoor plumbing he’d joked to Paige about and the computer center she had been so excited about. It even smelled new. He thought he caught a whiff of fresh paint as he came through the small vestibule where students apparently stowed backpacks and other gear not immediately needed.

  He paused in the doorway to the big room itself, looking. It was oriented so the double doors were at the rear. The large space was loosely divided into a half-dozen sections—one the computer center on the raised platform in the front corner, another where he saw small mats rolled up on shelves, he guessed for the younger ones to take naps or have a quiet time during the day.

  The rest of the sections, separated only by office cubicle-type walls festooned with pictures and artwork of various types, seemed to be divided by age levels. At the front of the room were several rows of chairs with half desktops, smaller ones in the front, enough for all the students to sit at one time. A good setup, he thought; Paige couldn’t be everywhere, but with the low walls, she could see if a problem arose anywhere in the room.

  Right now she was seated at the front of the room on a brightly-covered sofa. There was a large desk behind it, flanked by two tall filing cabinets. Behind the desk, sofa and file arrangement was the other way into and out of the school, a single, solid mahogany door. In front of Paige was a long, low table, and she had papers spread out over it, studying them intently.

  Her hair today wasn’t in the usual braid, but pulled back into a jaunty ponytail at the back of her head. It hung halfway down her back, giving him the answer to one of the things he’d always wondered about, how long that red mane would be if let loose.

  Heat jolted through him, and he took a moment to fight it down before he actually stepped into the room. An odd sort of tension stayed with him, as if he were wondering if the teacher would throw him out of class.

  He only took a couple of steps before he noticed the floor. He stopped, staring, bemused. Teak wood had been used, because of the threat of water from severe storms and the rare hurricane that hit this island. It was beautiful and one of the few woods that wasn’t a termite attractant in this climate. But now it had been decorated. Five sets of whimsical, cartoonish bare footprints had been painted in a path from the back of the room up to where Paige sat. In red, blue, green, orange and black, they wound their way crookedly around the different sections, then split into four separate paths as they approached her sofa and desk.

  He found himself smiling as he followed the chubby little feet through the room. But when he got to where they split, he stopped and looked up again.

  She was watching him, her expression unrea
dable. She was dressed simply in a pair of navy-blue cotton slacks with a navy trimmed white blouse and a pair of white canvas shoes. He thought she’d never looked lovelier.

  Forcing himself to stop staring at her, he gestured down at the floor. “I don’t know which path to take.”

  She smiled then, and he felt a little of the tension leave him. And she seemed quite calm, even friendly as she explained. “Red is for if you’re angry about something. Blue if you’re sad, no reason required. Black is for excuses, good or bad. Orange is if you’re sorry about something. Green is for good news to share.”

  Well, that makes it easy, Rider thought. With a quirk of his mouth he stepped out along the orange path. When he got to the end, she was standing. Everything he’d planned to say escaped him, and he just stood there for a moment. As if the silence made her uncomfortable, she explained even further.

  “I used the sofa to make this place seem like home rather than school, to make me more approachable to the little ones. And I painted those paths—in water-soluble paint, by the way—to make it clear that it was okay to talk about all those things,” she said, and added with the slightest emphasis, “and that I’m always willing to listen.”

  He stood there for a moment, struggling for words. Finally he said simply, “I’m sorry.”

  There were so many other things he wanted to say, to explain, but right now that “I’m sorry” was all he could manage.

  After a moment of silence Paige nodded.

  “All right.” When he said nothing more, she left it at that and asked if he wanted to look around. “You should see how your work paid off.”

  He followed her around the room, listening as she pointed out the ways she was using the changes he’d made in the plans, from the audio/visual corner to the small library to the computer center.

  “It must be difficult, teaching all different ages.”