HOW HAD SHE ever questioned David’s character? He was one of the nicest people she’d ever known.
Leaning back on her towel, Nychelle watched as he added another tower to the sandcastle, expertly shaping it into a cylinder before starting to embellish it with crenellations.
“The trick is the amount of water you put in,” he said, then glanced over at her and held up one sandy hand. “Aren’t you going to help at all?”
Nychelle just chuckled and got up to shift the umbrella so it covered him better. “There. I helped stop you getting sunburned.”
“Ha-ha.” David shook his head and went back to decorating the castle with arrow slits inscribed into the sand with the end of his straw. “I thought this was something you wanted to do.”
He tried to sound disgruntled, but couldn’t stop the sides of his lips quirking, which spoiled the effect completely.
“I’m finding watching you even more fun than I’d have actually doing it. Besides, you’re so much better at it than I could ever be.”
His laughter brought a smile to her lips as she resumed her seat beneath the other umbrella and tucked her legs up under her. It was, she decided, the best day she could ever have hoped for. Simple pleasures, enjoyed together.
They’d floated along the Intracoastal, looking at the fabulous houses, critiquing the architecture and marveling at the luxuriousness of the surroundings and the boats berthed outside many of the residences. Initially Nychelle had planned for them to have lunch at one of her favorite waterside restaurants, but the smell of the seafood had made her feel queasy as soon as they’d walked in. David hadn’t commented or complained when she’d changed her mind, and they’d strolled along for a couple of blocks more, until they’d found an up-scale burger joint.
Although their conversation had been light enough, she’d discovered a few things she hadn’t known before. He’d talked a bit more about his marriage and, in true David fashion, had spoken of his ex with respect and regret, rather than acrimony.
Thinking the woman a fool for letting him go, Nychelle had wanted to ask for more details. But when he’d moved on to talk about something else she hadn’t pressed the subject. After all, it had been her idea not to go too deep today.
After lunch they’d wandered along South Fort Lauderdale Beach Boulevard, browsing shop windows and craft stalls. He’d threatened to buy her an alligator foot keychain or a gator tooth necklace, both of which she’d politely refused through her laughter. But she’d stopped on her way back from the ladies’ room and bought him a tropical print shirt in colors so wild she was sure he’d never wear it.
He had immediately put it on.
“Good grief!” she’d said, breathless from giggling. “I don’t know if I want to be seen with you in that.”
“Too bad,” he’d replied, with a grin that just turned her insides to mush. “You should have thought of that before you bought it.”
Then, true to their agreement, she’d bought him an ice cream cone, which had prompted him to suggest they cross over to the beach and build their sandcastle. With one more stop to get another round of cold drinks, they’d done just that.
It was surprising to realize the sun was sinking toward the horizon already, although it wouldn’t get dark until after six.
“The day has flown by.” She suppressed a sigh, wishing their time together could last longer. “We should think about heading back soon.”
He looked up and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “If I wasn’t so covered in sand I’d suggest making an evening of it, but I’m not fit to go anywhere like this.”
Nychelle nodded in agreement. While it hadn’t been very windy, the sea breeze had left her feeling salty and sticky. “You can explore the night-life another time.”
Slanting her a quick glance, he replied, “Yes, we can.”
Busying herself by pulling out her phone, Nychelle ignored his comment. “I need to take a picture of the sandcastle. It’s amazing.”
“One second.” Using his straw, David wrote around the inside of the moat in neat script: Queen Nychelle’s Palace.
“You’re a disgrace to the medical profession, having handwriting that neat,” Nychelle teased as she snapped several pictures, including a couple that featured him rather than the sandcastle.
“I don’t believe in conforming to other people’s expectations.” He stood up and brushed at his sand-covered legs, with little effect.
“True,” she said as she gathered up her bag. “Not doing so really does make life interesting.”
She knew that for sure, having spent years doing what she felt was right for her rather than what others wanted. She just wished she knew whether spending all this time with David was a good thing or not.
It had been an easy, uncomplicated day on the surface, but every time he’d smiled, or reached out to hold her hand, Nychelle had been aware of the undercurrents. As swift and strong as a riptide, they were rife with attraction, both physical and emotional—at least for her. Wishing she knew how he felt about it was futile. She wouldn’t ask. Not only because she was leery of actually knowing, but because she didn’t want to risk spoiling the day.
It had been wonderful.
Yet as they walked toward the shower at the exit near the road Nychelle looked back at the sandcastle and felt a sharp pang of sadness, knowing that it, like the day, would soon be gone.
* * *
Maybe it was the sun, or perhaps the amount of laughing he’d done during their day out, but as they wound their way back toward the water taxi stop David felt mellow. Happily tired. Nychelle looked pensive, though, and he could only hope it was because, like him, she was regretting the end of their time together.
As they hurried across the busy street toward the Intracoastal, where they’d catch the water taxi, he took her hand again. She gave his fingers a squeeze, then slanted him a glance.
“Why did you decide on general practice instead of a specialty?”
The question took him aback, and his first impulse was to avoid it. “Why did you? I would have thought with your family connections you would have gone in a different direction.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She gave his hand a shake in emphasis. “Didn’t anyone tell you answering a question with a question is an obvious sign of deflection? Why would you be defensive about something so simple?”
He groaned. “Analyzing me again?”
“Asking another question?” she shot back.
“Okay...okay.”
He changed his grip on her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her, just that he was sure she’d think he was nuts.
“I’ve always thought that eventually I’d want to move back to South Carolina and set up a practice near where my parents are. There aren’t enough doctors in the area, and the hospital is a ways away—especially for some of the more rural communities.”
He struggled to find the appropriate words.
“The people support each other every way they can, and my family benefited from that way of thinking. It’s what neighbors do there, even when they have little themselves, so I’ve always wanted to give back.”
He didn’t tell her about the charity he’d been saving toward setting up since he’d first started making decent money, or that he had been talking to Dr. Hamatty about how he arranged his free clinics, hoping to do something similar one day. Yet even without that the look she gave him, so full of admiration and joy, made him feel as though he were suddenly ten feet tall.
“How lovely. I think that’s wonderful!”
She beamed, as if he’d given her a gift, and his heart ached, feeling suddenly too big for its place in his chest.
There was nothing he could say; his throat was tight with emotion. During the day he’d opened up to her more than he had to anyone else for a long time, speaking about his parents and siblings, and the home he’d run from and yet often longed for. Even about Kitty, although he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say why the marriage had failed. That was a conversation he thought might happen soon, but he’d prefer to have it somewhere other than in public.
He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t break down telling her about Natalie. Even though time had made the pain more bearable, there was something about Nychelle that brought all his emotions close to the surface. As though she were some kind of magnet, which drew from him all he sought to hide or hide from.
They were near the dock when Nychelle said, “Whoops!” Tightening her grip on his hand, she continued, “Look. The next taxi is coming. Let’s go.”
She broke into a run and he fell in with her, the sound of her laughter, the gleam of her smile, making that sweet ache in his chest expand, filling him with contentment.
Breathless, they threw themselves onto a bench at the prow of the boat, exchanging smiles.
“Just a moment! Please—just a moment!”
At the shout from the dock David looked up and saw the same family they’d shared the trip with that morning running toward the boat, the two older members bringing up the rear. The taxi waited, and one after the other they clambered onto the boat, the adults red-faced with exertion.
This wasn’t the calm, happy group of the morning, David thought. The older children were obviously exhausted and, as often happened with siblings, were squabbling and baiting one another. The father was now holding the baby, who squealed in outrage, while the mother and grandparents corralled all the various bits and pieces the family had needed for their excursion.
After watching them get settled—which involved the stowing of equipment, the swapping of the baby from hand to hand, and a few sharp words to the older kids from Dad—David turned to Nychelle with a wry grin.
“I always tip my hat to parents. Just watching the chaos sometimes makes me tired.”
His own words took him by surprise. Normally he avoided any reference to children, and any jokes about what parents went through, since they brought with them regrets for what he was missing.
“It’s wonderful chaos,” she retorted, and there was an edge to her voice. “There’s nothing I love more than taking care of Leighann and MJ. It’s crazy, but rewarding.”
“No doubt it is.” Her vehemence was startling, pulling him out of his own contemplation. “I didn’t mean it as a—”
“I look forward to experiencing it.”
Her interruption was fierce. Although she still spoke softly, all pretense of indifference was washed from her tone, and the hand she held up was defensive, as if she expected him to object or argue.
“I don’t understand why children are suddenly seen as a burden—something to be put off and a cause of problems in peoples’ lives. No matter how chaotic, I think people should be thankful for their kids.”
“They should be.” That he knew for a fact. He took her hand, squeezed gently, wanting to calm her.
“Some aren’t, though.”
Now she just sounded sad, rather than angry, and an ache formed in David’s chest.
“It’s sad when so many people are longing for kids and can’t have them. I can’t wait to be a mother.”
As she pushed her sunglasses firmly up on her nose and turned to look out over the water David was left wondering. Was that a general observation about infertility, or was she thinking of someone specific? Perhaps herself?
Before he could decide how to best broach the subject Nychelle rolled her shoulders, as though sloughing off the conversation. She drew in a deep breath and turned to him, smiling a somewhat wobbly smile.
“So, what do you think of Fort Lauderdale now you’ve seen a bit more of it? How does it compare to Chicago?”
He had no choice but to follow her lead, and yet her remark about longing for children of her own had cast a shadow over the day. Over his heart. She had no idea how that drive to be a parent, the longing to bring another life into the world, could cause an agony beyond anything she’d ever experienced.
The ache in his chest intensified, and even as he answered her question he felt the peace he’d only just experienced evaporate in the glare of the setting sun.
Nychelle’s need to be a mother put paid to any hopes of him being anything more to her than just a friend. And that hurt more than he wanted to admit even to himself.