Kathleen Pickering - Where It Began

At least he was too new for Maria. Poppa said Del Rio was the son of his business partner, and now like a son to him, but Maria continued to relegate him to employee status. She simply could not remember him and didn’t like the way he did little other than reside at Reefside and shadow Poppa.

She also didn’t like the physical attraction she felt toward him. Something about him intimidated her. She’d mentioned this to Poppa and he’d quelled her concerns with amusement. She had to trust her father’s judgment, as she couldn’t trust her own since her memory loss. However, she could mentally shelve the man where he belonged: on the Honora.

Del Rio was not among the earlier memories that had returned after the accident. She’d remembered Poppa. Momma. Carmen. Eduardo, who ran the house. It boggled her mind that Poppa was so generous with Del Rio, including him in intimate conversations that should be restricted to family.

Now that their family had dwindled to just her and Poppa, she had no room for Del Rio. That was a fact. With his ultrahot body, wavy hair, deceptively charming Irish looks and easy smile, she found it even more important to ignore him. When she could not, she found fault. Sadly, she couldn’t imagine why. He had been nothing but kind to her.

Elias Santiago adjusted himself in his wheelchair, his dark gaze sliding from Del Rio to her. “Querida, I do not think this is such a good undertaking. You may look like an adventurous, gypsy princess in your beautiful dress, but now you sound like one. I do not want you wandering away from me.”

“You should have no worries, Poppa. My memory may be gone, but I still conduct myself well in public.”

What she couldn’t say was that she refused to go through another day of nightmares. Afraid to go to Carmen’s bedroom for fear that her twin would appear as she did in Maria’s sleep: angry. Distorted. Lunging for her with fangs and claws until the two of them hurtled over the balcony into a dark, foul-smelling abyss and Maria’s screams jolted her awake....

She was exhausted. She needed answers.

Calming her thoughts, she summoned all her willpower to keep a smooth, even tone when she spoke. She had to know why Carmen was haunting her.

“Besides, I’m not wandering, Poppa. I’m focused on a goal—going back to the scene of the accident. My memory is missing, but I hope that will change with this trip.”

Elias’s raven eyebrows slashed into a frown. Planting both hands on the table to emphasize his lack of mobility, he said, “But I am unable to accompany you.”

“Which is why I must go now, Poppa. I want to be well quickly, so that I can be here to help you.”

“I suggest you fly over.” Del Rio’s soothing voice invaded the conversation. “Take your doctor. You’ll be there in forty-five minutes and can hire a boat.”

She turned to meet his challenge. “What? You don’t want to work, Del Rio?”

His laugh sounded mirthless. “Not any longer, Princess.”

“Hijos, stop!” Poppa’s concern drew her attention from Del Rio’s challenging blue eyes.

“We are not your children, Poppa.”

“I think Elias means we are acting like children,” Del Rio answered.

Eduardo arrived with their main course. Maria waited for everyone to be served before lobbying for her cause once more.

“Please, Poppa. This sail is vital. I have asked you for nothing else these past months.”

Elias put down his fork. “And why not? Because you stay locked in your studio, day after day.”

She winced as the accusation hit home. She’d been afraid of the darkness that shrouded her thoughts since awakening in the hospital. Not knowing answers to questions or recognizing people she should know sent her scrambling for solitude. If she were alone, she couldn’t make any social blunders or look as foolish and frightened as she felt.

Also, the devastation of learning that Momma and Carmen had perished in the accident that robbed her memory had left a hole in her so deep she didn’t think she could ever climb out. She’d behaved cowardly, immersing herself in her misery, leaving Poppa to mourn alone.

She soon discovered her best escape was her art, which seemed to be selling faster than she could create it. But now, even that could not distract her. Matters had gotten out of hand. Reefside, a private estate in the heart of Fort Lauderdale’s metropolis, had become too quiet. In this beachside oasis her nightmares had become more frightening than ever. It was time to heal, especially with Poppa becoming weaker with diabetes. She had precious little time to waste, no matter how daunting this self-imposed task might seem. Poppa needed her. She was all he had left.

By some odd quirk of fate, she had decided that having Del Rio take her to the Abacos in the Bahamas on her father’s ship was the answer. The doctor said retracing the steps up to the accident could jar her memory. Yet, something about Del Rio chafed at her. No doubt it was his bond with Poppa. Why else would the darkness in her mind rise fast, practically buzzing through her head, whenever she was in Del Rio’s presence? She needed to conquer that silly sensation, as well.

Besides, Poppa said Del Rio was the finest sailor he’d ever known. Coming from Elias Santiago, that was high praise. Sailing on the Honora would get them to the Abacos fast enough while giving her time to adjust to the possibility of regaining her memory, of recovering all the details she suspected were so painful she’d blocked them. Here lay her dilemma. She wanted answers, but was unsure if she could handle them in one windfall. The Honora would carry her to her destination fast enough while giving her time to accept what she would learn. It was time to discover the facts behind her mother’s and sister’s deaths. It was time to embrace her life in its entirety and stop merely existing.

She raised her chin a notch higher. “I am out of my studio now, am I not?” She shook her head. “I have wasted too much time. I am ready to fight this black monster in my mind. Permit me use of the Honora, although God knows the thought of stepping on a ship again makes my knees quake.”

Elias frowned. “Then you must not go.”

“No, Poppa, you are wrong.” Her voice dropped in desperation. She fought to keep the tears and the tremor from her words. “I can no longer live not knowing. Nothing will stop me.”

Elias was a bear of a man whom few people crossed. His disease had ruined the joints in his ankles, yet his imposing frame continued to belie his useless legs. A silver mane of hair softened his dark, noble Latino looks. He wore his usual linen shirt and pants, white cotton socks to keep his swollen feet warm, even in the balmy, tropical evening. Elias still enjoyed good days, despite his wheelchair, but Maria had observed the signs of distress that seemed to occur more frequently. Besides her own overwhelming need to reclaim peace from these nightmares, she wanted to regain her memory so that she would be prepared for Poppa when he needed her. His blustering would do little to dissuade her.

Del Rio stood in the silence that had fallen, his plate untouched. He bowed slightly toward Maria, his spicy-warm, masculine scent filling her senses, before focusing his attention on Elias. “I cannot listen to this discussion. I seem to have lost my appetite. If you will excuse me.”

Maria looked straight ahead, refusing to watch the man’s exit. Del Rio might be thinking that his leaving could sway Poppa to deny her wishes, but she knew better. His absence would improve her chances to persuade her father of her plan. Elias added a splash of wine to his glass, which the doctor had forbidden.

She lifted her own glass. As he filled it, she offered Poppa an amused look. “Now that we are alone, I can explain myself more freely, Poppa. Here’s why I must leave as soon as possible…”