Once again, Will felt as if life had kicked him in the balls. "In shock" was too mild a term to describe what he was feeling.
Turned upside down, inside out, wouldn't even begin to cover it.
He was, to use a term from the academy award-winning movie, Braveheart, fooked.
As he drove on Highway 19 back to the Lawai'a house, he glanced over at his sleeping passenger. Her thick dark lashes gently fluttered against the soft curve of her cheeks. Her pink lips, pouting as she slept, just begged to be kissed. The neckline of her black dress had slipped down on her shoulder, revealing more skin with which to tempt him. More skin to fondle, to caress.
He groaned. Yeah, he must've royally pissed off the gods. He no longer had any doubt that this woman was indeed Andrea. Seven years ago, she'd just started to work her magic on him. To weave her way into his psyche. She'd only been eighteen. Now she was twenty-five.
That she was Andrea explained his immediate attraction to her. Beyond the physical attraction was her very sweetness, her eagerness to please.
But that was before her memory had returned, of course. Now she loathed him. And he could understand why.
He pulled into the Lawai'a driveway and parked. Whatever this woman thought, she was not home. She had to return to Virginia. She had to be reunited with her father.
Seeing Andrea again would restore Randolph Ernst's zest for life, his vigor. But the actual reunion would have to be carefully planned. Without proper preparation, a shock of this magnitude just might kill him.
Once again Will carried Andrea to the house, only this time she wasn't conscious. As he held her close, her head lolled against his chest. For a moment, he leaned his cheek against her hair, savoring her fragrance of roses and jasmine.
If only...
He shook aside his regrets and rang the doorbell.
Mrs. Lawai'a hustled to the door, then opened it. "Gracious me! My little coconut! She is unwell again?"
"No, only sleeping, Mama Lawai'a." He kept his voice low. "Let me get her to bed, then I need to talk with you."
Her face grave, she nodded slowly. "I wait down here."
Ten to one she knew what the topic of conversation would be about.
Andrea's weight was inconsequential. He took the stairs two at a time. Inside her bedroom, he laid her on the bed and removed her high-heeled shoes. That was all he had the right to remove. He lifted a patchwork quilt at the end of the bed and pulled it over her.
She hadn't wakened. She still slept peacefully.
For a long moment, he watched her. A lump formed in his throat. Thank God she was alive.
He quickly left the room and closed the door behind him.
Downstairs, Mrs. Lawai'a sat on the white couch with her hands folded in her lap. "We are alone," she said. "My oldest is courting his newest client, my youngest is spending the night at a friend's, and Mr. Lawai'a is working at Hilo International Airport."
Will sat opposite her. He puzzled on how to begin. "Mama Kalala, seven years ago, my bride of just a few hours was washed overboard the Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen yacht. We launched an exhaustive search, but we never found her."
He met the woman's gaze and held it. "Anakalia says she is Andrea."
Mrs. Lawai'a nodded. "It is true. She was like a mermaid, washed ashore seven years ago. My youngest found her. The dolphins saved her. You must know, Will, she had no memory of anything in her prior life. She called herself Andie. The Hawai'ian name for Andie, or Andrea, is Anakalia. For some reason, her memory returned today."
She lowered her gaze to her hands. "She is a daughter to me. We all love her."
They both sat in silence, the only noise disturbing the quiet came from the ceiling fan, whirling the air in a slow, leisurely fashion.
Mrs. Lawai'a removed a handkerchief from the sleeve of her flowered blouse. She dabbed at her eyes. "What will happen now, Will?"
The question echoed in his mind. Just what would happen now? Who could say?
He ran his hand over his hair. "She's been declared legally dead. We'll set in motion a revocation of determination of death. That's not a problem. But I..."
He twisted his gold wedding band on his finger. It felt cold, alien. "I got married again. Just a couple of weeks ago. So, naturally, I'll have to... I'll look into getting an, ah, annulment for Andrea and me."
Hesitation usually wasn't his style, but, hell, this business was damn tricky.
His hostess tut-tutted.
Will took a deep breath. "As for Andrea's father, you see, he's in rather frail health. He took the news of his only child's death very hard. Naturally. I don't think it would be in his best interest to phone in the news. Nor should he learn of it through a third party. He and Andrea should be reunited as soon as possible."
"Of course. I understand." Mrs. Lawai'a swiped at her eyes again.
He leaned in, closer to the woman. "The problem is, Andrea doesn't want to leave here."
Mrs. Lawai'a sat up straight, her mouth firm. "It is her duty. Not to worry, Will. I shall impress that upon her."
"Thank you, Mama Kalala." He stood. "I'll make the arrangements."
He took the stairs one at a time. Both of them were heartbroken in their own way. Mrs. Lawai'a was losing a daughter, and he, well, he had lost the chance to share his life with Andrea.
* * * *
Andrea opened her eyes for the first time in seven years as Andrea Ernst. Or was that Andrea Struthers?
Still in bed, she puzzled on the answer. Who knew? Hers was an unusual situation.
Morning light peeped in through the partially closed drapes. She glanced at her clock radio. Fifteen after eight. There was much to be done. No time to dawdle.
She swung her legs out of bed. With the awareness of her identity came responsibility. Duties. Burdens. Her life would never be the same again.
Setting her misgivings aside for the moment, she entered the bathroom, locked the connecting door, and stepped into the old-fashioned high bathtub. The warm shower helped her to prepare for what the new day had in store for her.
She dressed quickly in sweats and tiptoed down the stairs. After Papa Lawai'a's shift at the airport, he would still be sleeping.
Delicious aromas leaked out of the kitchen and into the entryway beyond. Voices resonated out from those four walls as well. Obviously Mama Kalala was already up.
Andrea heard a deep male voice. Wilson was up, too.
She held onto the banister, allowing memories from last night to wash over her. At the restaurant, she'd laid all her cards down on the table. She'd gotten Wilson to feel comfortable, and then shocked him with her news.
Of course he'd been shocked. He'd had everything all nicely figured out--on the fast track as a partner with a prestigious law firm, a new bride, a new life.
And then he learns his old life.. his old wife has come back to haunt him.
Tears burned her eyes. She blinked several times to clear them. Last night in a touching moment, Wilson had shared that he thought they would've been good together.
But she knew better. Seven years had a way of softening memories. She recalled that Wilson had been more than eager to leave Hawaii and get back to his job. That he'd made a deal with her father to marry Andrea and become partner. That he had kissed another woman--and done who knew what else?-- on their wedding night.
Still, a vague recollection of him carrying her up the stairs last night resurfaced. He'd leaned his cheek against her hair. He'd sighed softly. She'd felt his chest rise and fall with the intake and release.
As if he had regrets.
Andrea also had regrets. She wished he would have kissed her.
Forget about it.
She walked into the kitchen. The two people at the small table looked up at her. Mama Kalala, with sympathy, and Wilson, with...
Andrea couldn't identify the look. A strange awkwardness hung in the air.
"Good morning, young one." Mama Kalala enveloped her in a loving embrace. "I will let you two have a quiet talk. You know what you must do, child. It is your duty. Just as I must leave now for church."
After a kiss on the cheek, Mama Kalala smiled, and then left by the back door.
Wilson was wearing one of his new tropical shirts with khaki shorts, which revealed his muscular thighs and calves. Instead of sandals, he had on hiking shoes with socks matching his shirt.
Her heart made an involuntary flip.
He looked tired though, as if he hadn't had much sleep.
She glanced at his empty coffee mug. "Would you like a refill?"
"Sure, thanks." His gaze was fixed on her.
It made her uncomfortable. She filled his mug, poured one for herself, before she sat across from him at the table. He was only two feet away from her.
"Have you eaten breakfast?" she said, to delay the inevitable.
"Mrs. Lawai'a was kind enough to make scrambled eggs." He ran his hand through his thick, luxurious hair. "Listen, Andrea, I've got to apologize for not recognizing you."
"It's okay, Wilson. Really." She stirred sugar into her mug. "I mean, we hardly knew each other back then, anyway."
He laid his hand over hers. "You need to go home. You need to see your father."
His touch made her shudder. She removed her hand from under his. "I agree. I do need to see him. But Virginia isn't my home anymore. I will visit, but I will not stay."
She took a sip of coffee and shrugged. "Not that it's any concern of yours."
He wrapped his hands around his mug. He spoke in a low, measured tone. "It is my concern, Andrea. You are... You were my wife. I am responsible for you, and I'm responsible for what happened to you."
She suddenly felt hot in her sweatshirt. Swallowing another sip of coffee, she stared at him. "What do you mean?"
He looked away, at the linoleum floor. "I should have been with you, Andrea, in our cabin. If I had been, you never would've wandered outside. You wouldn't have seen me with that woman, that piece of trash."
He met her gaze again. His chestnut brown eyes darkened. "It's too late now, but just to set the record straight, that woman--"
"Dahlia Meyers," Andrea supplied. Funny how the name just popped into her head.
"Yeah, her." He frowned, as if the very name was unpleasant. "She and I had a fling, a year before I met you. It didn't mean anything. I was young." He shrugged. "Dahlia was poison, so I dropped her cold."
He shrugged again. "Anyway, that night, she must've been casting her lures out to your father. I'd just joined him for a drink. I hadn't known she was in the lounge. Then your father left, and she made a play for me. After I dumped her off my lap, she told me she'd seen you in the back of the lounge. Then the alarm bells rang..."
He didn't finish.
Andrea absorbed what Wilson said...and what he didn't. His regret and apology did seem genuine.
But what did any of it matter now?
She sighed. "That's all in the past. We've each made new lives for ourselves." She gave him a smile she didn't feel and held up her coffee mug. "Here's to the present."
He clinked his mug with hers. "To the present."
He spoke so slowly, she wondered what he was really thinking.
Never mind that!
She stood to put some distance between them. "Have you told my father yet?"
"No." Wilson's warm eyes turned cloudy. "He took your disappearance hard, Andrea. He's not the same man you knew seven years ago."
Turning away, she blinked back unexpected tears.
"And frankly, I don't know the best way to tell him," Wilson added. "So, if you agree, I thought we'd leave as soon as possible, and you can tell him in person."
As soon as possible.
Andrea darted her gaze around the Lawai'a kitchen--the only place she'd ever felt loved. "How soon?"
"We're booked on a flight out of Hilo at five-thirty this evening."
"No." She hadn't imagined leaving Hawaii so soon. "I can't just leave. I have to say goodbye to everyone. To Phillip and Nathan--"
"Nathan's returning to Honolulu with us, our first stop. Thomas and his wife will meet us at the airport, so you'll have a couple of hours to spend with them. Then we head back to the States."
Wilson had everything planned out, hadn't he? Her stomach churned, and it wasn't because of hunger.
She stomped her bare foot. "I won't leave without saying goodbye to my dolphins. I've got to let them know, somehow, that I'll be back."
Wilson held out his hands in a placating manner. "It's only nine o'clock. There's plenty of time for you to go to the bay and then pack."
She was pig-headed, she knew that, but still, she protested. "I don't have any winter clothes."
He was quick to reply. "I'll buy you some at the airport shops along the way. We can look in Honolulu, and we also have a connecting flight out of Newark."
"I don't want you to buy me anything." She glared down at him.
He got out of his chair. Now she had to look up at him.
He met her gaze. "Your father will reimburse me. Does that satisfy you?"
She was far from satisfied, but she couldn't let him know it. "What about identification? I can't fly. I don't have a driver's license, or passport, or anything like that."
Wilson folded his arms across his chest. "I'm aware of that, Andrea. I talked with Mr. Lawai'a last night. He's going to help us at the airport here. Once we've checked in at Hilo, it'll be smooth sailing all the way through to Richmond."
"Hmmn." She backed away. That was a risk for Papa Lawai'a, but if she was going to see her real father, she had no choice. "So what name am I using?"
"You're booked as Andrea Struthers." He smiled for the first time this morning. "Technically it's correct, even though you're supposed to be dead."
"Swell." She trudged out of the kitchen without looking at him and went upstairs.
She didn't want to be Andrea Struthers for even one minute, let alone however long this flight would take.
But she needed to forget about that, at least for now. She had a great deal to accomplish before five-thirty's flight rolled around.