never come back.”
“He made you keep his secret?”
Sophie nodded. “I was so confused. I mean, I assumed he was telling the truth-that if my mother walked out on their marriage, she’d leave me behind. So I didn’t say anything. But it kept happening, with that woman, and with others. Sometimes he’d use me to make excuses to my mother. And I kept my mouth shut. Even after my mother suspected, when I could see it in her eyes, I still didn’t say anything. Then one day, she was gone.”
“That’s it? She just walked out?”
“She went back to Paris, to her family. It was a separation at first. And I thought, it’s right she leaves me, because it was my fault, too. The funny thing was, from the moment she left, my father just fell apart. He didn’t know what to do without her. And when she finally sent for me, he begged me to stay with him and I did. I thought my mother would never be able to forgive me and I just couldn’t face her.”
“Why?” Trey asked. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know.”
“It was me who’d done it, too,” Sophie said. “I could have asked him to stop. I could have made him stop. I could have told her when it first happened. But I didn’t.”
Trey reached down and cupped her cheek in his palm, feeling the tears that dampened her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart, you can’t blame yourself for any of that. You were just a kid. Your father was wrong to make you keep that secret. And your mother was wrong to leave you behind.”
She drew a ragged breath and then let it out. After another, he did the same along with her, until her breathing had slowed and the tears had stopped. “Better?” he asked.
Sophie nodded. “You’re right. Now that I’ve said it out loud, it feels like I can leave it behind.” She placed her palm on his cheek and kissed him. “Is that how you deal with your luggage?”
“Baggage,” he said. “I’ve got a lot of it. Steamer trunks full. But I usually pack it all up and leave it behind. I’ve got trunks all over the world-Paris, Tokyo, London, New York. I usually just abandon my baggage.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“It’s worked for me in the past,” Trey admitted. But now that he thought about it, walking away from his problems had never really solved them. He’d never taken responsibility for his life, for the mess he’d made of it. Maybe it was time for him to open some of those trunks, too, and look at what was inside.
“I didn’t have the most perfect parents in the world,” he said, deciding to open up, too. “My mother and father are still married, after thirty-five years. But they barely speak to each other. Most times, they’re living in separate houses. My mother lives for her charity work and my father concentrates on business. They go out in public all dressed up and looking happy for the cameras, but they don’t have a marriage, either.”
“Do you know anyone who is married and happy?” Sophie asked.
“My grandparents. My grandfather was the one who bought the first hotel, and he and my grandmother built the business together. They were always so content, so solid. They never spent a night apart throughout their whole marriage. When he was sick at the end, she slept at the hospital with him. They were devoted to each other.” Trey smiled. “That’s what I’d like. But maybe that’s just asking for too much.”
“So, I guess we’re both pretty screwed up,” Sophie finally said with a soft laugh.
“Maybe. Or maybe we know just enough not to make the same mistakes our parents did.”
Sophie pushed up, bracing her hand on his chest, and looked into his eyes. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes, I do,” he said. Trey smoothed her hair out of her eyes, trying to read her expression through the darkness. “Whatever happens with us begins here, Sophie. It doesn’t start back when we were kids. It begins now.”
She snuggled against him again and sighed. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured.
“Merry Christmas,” Trey said. He chuckled softly. “Speaking of Christmas, I have presents for you.”
This brought her upright again and Trey could detect a smile on her face. “You do?”
“Of course I do. Since it’s Christmas, I thought we ought to have gifts.”
“But I didn’t get you-”
Trey reached out and touched his finger to her lips. “No need. You kind of saved my life this morning, so I’ll count that as a very big gift.”
“I saved my life, too,” she said. “You just happened to be along for the ride.”
Trey chuckled. “You also gave me a story I can tell for years to come. About how I was marooned on a deserted tropical island with a beautiful woman.”
“Can we open them now?” she asked.
“Oh, you’re one of those.” Trey shook his head. “Nope. Can’t do it. Presents are for Christmas morning. This whole idea of opening them on Christmas Eve is just wrong.”
Sophie curled up beside him again. “You’re probably right,” she said. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to see anything, anyway. It’s very dark.”
“Oh, well. I can take care of that.”
“Now you command the sun and the moon?”
Trey rolled out of the hammock, then walked across the porch. He’d found a lantern earlier that day, hung above the porch rail, but hidden by the twisted vines. It was full of kerosene, probably replenished by a passing boater. He retrieved the matches from his pocket and lit one, touching it to the wick.
Holding it aloft, Trey turned to see Sophie standing beside the hammock, a surprised expression on her face. “Just what I wanted for Christmas,” she teased. “Light.”
“This isn’t one of my presents. Although, it is nice to see you again, Miss Madigan.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Hanging from that hook behind you. I figure it will last us a good part of the night.”
“So, we can have a celebration,” she said.
Trey nodded. “Why not? We don’t have any other pressing engagements, do we? No parties, no caroling. Church is pretty much out of the question. A celebration would be nice.”
“Then, I need some time,” Sophie said. She hurried up to him and took the lantern from his fingers, then walked back to the door of the cottage. “You wait out here and I’ll get things ready.”
“What am I supposed to do in the dark?”
“You could work on your fire,” Sophie suggested.
“I think that fire is a lost cause,” he said. Trey smiled as he watched her slip inside the cottage. How quickly the mood had changed. Hell, he’d been with plenty of women who could hold a grudge for weeks. But all he’d had to do was find out what was on Sophie’s mind and allow her to talk. Once she’d unloaded her worries, things went right back to the way they’d once been with them-easy.
Was it really that simple? He’d been prepared to play the typical games, the abject apologies followed by the standard groveling. But this time, he listened and things were set right.
Trey walked down the steps to the fire. He grabbed a stick and stirred the embers, surprised to see an orange glow beneath the ashes. Like the fire between him and Sophie, this one refused to die, even in the pouring rain. He tossed a few more branches into the center of the flames and watched as sparks rose into the air and were quickly snuffed out.
Trey turned his face up to the sky and let the soft drizzle fall on his sunburned face. Raking his hands through his hair, he drew a deep breath. What happened between them tonight would probably set the course for the rest of their relationship, he mused. Either he’d be able to convince Sophie what they had was real, or he’d fail to prove his case and they’d go their separate ways in the morning.
Trey wasn’t even sure how this would all work out, even if they decided they wanted it to. He lived in Los Angeles now and she lived in the South Pacific. And then there was her father, although perhaps he could be convinced to move back to the States given proper incentive.
Still, there was always the resort. If he could find a way to build it, then he’d be here with Sophie for at least a year or two. Living on an island in the middle of the South Pacific certainly wouldn’t seem so bad if Sophie was with him. Maybe they could build something together, like his grandparents had.
But he was getting ahead of himself. Trey wasn’t about to put all his hopes out there and risk Sophie rejecting him out of hand. No, he had to at least be certain she’d consider the possibility of a future together, permanent or otherwise, before he made any plans.
He’d come to this island unsure of his future. Now, if things went well, he’d be leaving with a purpose. That was a lot more than he’d been able to achieve in the first twenty-nine years of his life.
