Island of Secrets and Scars

Chapter Eight

Brodie’s chest rose and fell in rhythm. To his right, the monitor emitted a steady beep . . . beep . . . beep, informing Cameron that her friend was still resting. What the monitors couldn’t tell her was if he’d ever wake up. She wanted to assure Esme her husband would witness the birth of their next child and help her raise the family they’d created, but she couldn’t.

Slipping her hand into Brodie’s, she squeezed with bruising force and bowed her head. Since the plane crash, she’d prayed more than she had in all the years since she’d awoken in Africa to the guilt-ravaged faces of her friends and known her daughter hadn’t survived. Before that day, she’d prayed often. After finding Ian, she’d had so much to be thankful for.

Taking a shuddering breath, she began a prayer for Brodie. Her thumb rubbed back and forth over a callous on his palm as she asked God to help heal her friend and bring him back to his family. Her plea may not help, but she and Matt had done everything they could for their patient. Now, she had no choice but to hand Brodie’s healing over to someone, something greater than herself. When she’d finished the prayer, she opened her eyes. A silly part of her hoped she’d find him staring at her, but of course his eyes remained closed.

“I need you to come back,” she pleaded. “Not for me. For Esme and your girls.” She paused. Should she voice the rest? She believed in the ability to speak things into existence. But these thoughts swimming in her head, these fears she needed to voice, were not things she wanted to come true.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered. Besides, she’d already expressed her fears to Keso. What could sharing them with an unconscious man hurt? “Keso needs you. This plane that exploded belonged to Victor Roberts.” Just saying the name made her skin crawl. “People say someone did it on purpose. Keso claims he had nothing to do with it, but I’m scared—” Her voice broke. She clamped her mouth shut to keep her tears from falling. “I think he might be involved, or he might retaliate because of what happened to you.”

Only she and Brodie knew how Keso loathed the other man. Keira’s only transgression had been to run away from her tiny island home, hoping for a more exciting life on the big island. Victor Roberts had made her a prostitute instead—a plaything for him and the depraved bastards he associated with. Keso believed Cameron didn’t hate the other man as much as he did, but sometimes she thought she might hate him more. Only her love for Arabella was stronger.

Tears slid down her cheeks. “You’re the only one who can get through to him. He doesn’t listen to me anymore.” Maybe she didn’t blame Keso for pulling away. That didn’t mean she had to watch him destroy his life and everyone they loved.

“He thinks he’s protecting us, but if he had anything to do with this, look what it cost you.” Her sob kept her from voicing her next thought. If Keso had something to do with blowing up the plane, he was responsible for hurting Arabella. She might be able to forgive him many things, but she’d never be able to forgive him for hurting their daughter. “It will kill him if you don’t pull through,” she told Brodie. So what if she tried to guilt him into living? She’d use any tools at her disposal. “I’m not convinced he didn’t have a hand in this. If he did, he’s hating himself now. If he didn’t, he’s even more convinced Victor Roberts should die.”

She didn’t know which scenario scared her more: Keso mad at himself for hurting his loved ones or more reasons for him to seek revenge against the man who’d killed his sister.

“Doctor Cameron. Where’s Doctor Cameron?”

Cameron’s head snapped up. She released Brodie’s hand and hurried from the room. No time for her own problems when others were calling.

* * *

Ian trudged out of Cameron’s office. He didn’t know if she’d made it back to the clinic after their confrontation on the beach, and he told himself he didn’t care. Over the last five years, he’d become quite efficient at lying to himself. Today, though, even he didn’t buy his bullshit. She’d slipped under his skin again. No surprise there. The first time he’d laid eyes on her, her presence had sunk into him. Her leaving hadn’t been able to extract her effect.

Maybe he should have Wes check on Arabella Lawrence. With the rioting emotions he had toward the girl’s mother, his friend might be better able to handle the child’s care. More bullshit. Despite the way his life had fallen apart over the years, when it came to work, Ian never shirked his responsibilities. He’d be damned if he let Cameron change that now.

Stepping into Arabella’s room, he paused to watch the little girl sleep. Her mother had changed her into a pink nightgown with colorful polka dots and brushed and braided her long blonde hair down the side of her head. Against her chest, she snuggled a small doll. From what Ian could tell so far, very few of the girl’s physical traits came from her mother. Cameron’s hair was dark and straight, while Arabella’s was light and curly like Keso’s. Cam’s eyes were almost sapphire blue, but Ara’s were the eerily mesmerizing green of her father’s. Even the girl’s skin was slightly darker than her mother’s. Though, living on an island, they both probably spent so much time in the sun their true skin tone would be difficult to determine.

“Who are you?” The girl’s small voice in the silent room startled him.

He shook away his musings and met her sea-green eyes. “I’m Ian. I’m a doctor.”

She narrowed her eyes, as if trying to place him. He didn’t blame her for not remembering him. The poor girl had been in pain and medicated when he introduced himself.

“My mommy’s the doctor. I don’t know you.”

Her response pulled a reluctant chuckle from him. “You’re right. You were almost asleep when we met last night. Your mom called me in to help stitch you up.” Of course, she hadn’t meant for him to be the one who arrived, but sometimes life had a way of kicking you when you were down.

“You made me better?” Her tiny voice caused his chest to tighten.

“Good as new.” He wouldn’t mention he’d removed a piece of metal that had only missed vital organs by pure luck. Or a miracle if you were the believing sort.

“Have you seen my mommy?”

His muscles tensed at the memory of his last encounter with Cameron. Yeah, he’d seen her. And he’d learned just how little he meant to her.

He forced a smile. “Last time I saw her, she was standing on one foot with her hands in the air.” He lifted his leg and arms simultaneously, teetering beside her bed. “I think she was trying to be a bird.”

Giggles shook the little girl’s body, quickly erased by a sharp cry. She clutched her side.

Ian rushed forward, placing a hand atop the girl’s. “Sorry Munchkin. I shouldn’t make you laugh. Your ribs are bruised, and your stitches are healing.”

She lifted her wide eyes to study him. “I’ll get better, won’t I? I like to laugh.”

“Yeah.” He pulled away and smiled down at her.

She nodded. “You have a pretty smile. You must smile a lot.”

He shook his head, slightly taken aback. Truthfully, he’d found little to smile about the last few years. He wouldn’t share that with anyone though. Especially not Cameron’s daughter.

“You should do it more,” she continued. “But only if you mean it. Your smile is prettier when you mean it.”

“Aren’t you smart? Who told you that?” he asked the little philosopher.

She beamed. “My mommy. She smiles even when she’s sad. But when she smiles because she’s happy, she’s beautiful.”

Yes, she was. Suddenly he pictured Cameron the first time she’d felt their daughter kick. Her blue eyes had widened, and her mouth had formed a perfect little “o” of surprise. Then her face had broken out in a wide grin. Before that moment, he’d thought he couldn’t love her more, but somehow, he’d fallen even further in love with her then. He coughed, trying to clear the knot in his throat. Even though he’d found the woman he loved, she’d never smile like that for him again.

“Are you okay, Doctor?” Ara put her small hand on his arm.

Looking down, he smiled despite himself. He didn’t want to feel anything for this little girl, this proof that Cameron had moved on and found someone else to share her life with, but he couldn’t help but like Arabella.

He patted her small hand with its tiny nails covered in chipped, sparkly blue polish. “I’m great. The question is, how are you? Has your mom talked to you about what happened?”

The girl’s tiny lip trembled as she nodded. “She’s not happy with me.”