She slipped out of bed and walked to his side, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. “Come back to bed,” she urged in Spanish as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Soon,” he promised, unwilling just yet to let go of the memories.

  “Come,” she enticed once more, splaying her fingers across his chest. “I will help you forget the bad dreams you have.”

  “Azucena…”

  Her response was wordless. She kissed his neck and pressed her heavy breasts against him.

  He needed her then as he’d needed her so many times before. Despite the advanced state of her pregnancy, he kissed her with little gentleness and she responded with a hunger that ignited his own. When he would have stopped, she pulled him to the bed and drew him close.

  Azucena deserved a much better man than he would ever be. She deserved someone who would love her completely for herself. A man who could give his name to the child who grew inside her. It shamed him that she was only two years older than his daughter, but that didn’t stop him from taking everything she offered. In the moment of his release he cried out Ginny’s name. It wasn’t the first time, and he suspected it wouldn’t be the last.

  * * *

  Lorraine had read the letter so many times she’d memorized it. She’d given up sleeping at her own place and spent the nights at her mother’s house instead. While she stayed there, she slept very little. Exhausted and angry, she sat in the dark living room night after night and tried to make sense of what she’d learned.

  She was vaguely aware that two weeks or so had passed since that afternoon in Dennis Goodwin’s office. Morning dawned and bright light spilled into the room and still Lorraine hadn’t slept. She wasn’t capable of dozing for more than an hour or two. The deep satisfying sleep of those at peace with life seemed forever lost to her.

  The mother she’d known and loved was someone whose existence had virtually disappeared. Virginia—or the person she’d pretended to be—was completely out of reach now. Her actions were beyond Lorraine’s understanding—or forgiveness. Lorraine felt as if the foundation of her entire world had crumbled beneath her.

  Although she knew each word of the letter by heart, she removed it from the envelope and read it once again.

  Dearest Ginny,

  Today is our daughter’s twenty-first birthday. Where did all those years go? It seems only yesterday that I bounced Raine on my knee and sang her to sleep. It hurts to realize how much of her life I’ve missed.

  I know you don’t want to hear this, but I never stopped loving you or needing you. I wish things could have been different for us. All I ask of you now is that you tell Raine the truth about me.

  The decision to tell her I was dead is one we made together. At the time it seemed the right thing to do, but I’ve regretted it every day since. You know that. You also know I’m a man of my word. I’ve done as you wanted and stayed out of your lives, but I’m pleading with you now to tell Raine the truth. All of it. She’s legally an adult and old enough to make her own judgments.

  I’m teaching at a small school in a coastal town called El Mirador on the Yucatán Peninsula. You can reach me by phone at the number on the bottom of the page. The school will make sure I get the message.

  Are you well, Ginny? Do you lie awake at nights and think of me the way I do of you? Are you happy? This is my prayer for you, that you’ve found peace within yourself.

  I’ll always love you.

  Thomas

  Three truths hit Lorraine full force each and every time she read the letter. First and foremost, despite what she’d been told, her father was alive and well. Second, he loved her. Last—and what had the most profound impact on her—her mother had lied to her all these years.

  There was a loud knock at the front door, yanking Lorraine away from her thoughts.

  She wasn’t surprised to find Gary standing on the other side of the screen door. “I figured you’d be here.” He glanced into the living room and eyed the disarray.

  “What time is it?” she asked, although it was obviously morning.

  “You were due at work an hour ago.”

  “Is it that late already?” she asked. She drifted around the room, picking up books and papers and piling them neatly on a shelf. Anything to avoid looking at him. Anything to delay telling him what she’d decided.

  “I don’t know what to do for you anymore,” he said, raising his palms in a gesture of helplessness. When she didn’t answer, he walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard, then pulled out a tin of coffee.

  Lorraine followed him.

  “It might be a good idea if you got dressed for work,” he suggested pointedly.

  Rather than argue with him, she did as he asked, taking a quick shower and putting on her uniform, although she had no intention of showing up at the clinic. The scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted her when she returned. Gary handed her a mug and poured himself one.

  “Let’s talk,” he said, motioning for her to sit at the table.

  Once more she complied, because fighting him demanded too much energy.

  He took the chair across from her. “Sweetheart, hard as this is, you’ve got to get on with your life.”

  She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “I will.”

  “That’s a good start.” He sipped his coffee, then sighed heavily, as if he’d dreaded this confrontation. “You haven’t been yourself ever since that meeting with your mother’s attorney.”

  “I know.”

  He seemed unsure how far to press her. “I realize the letter upset you. It would’ve upset anyone, but you’ve got to come to grips with reality. Sleeping here every night, watching the same movies over and over, isn’t going to help.” He paused and changed tactics. “It’s been a month now, and you haven’t dealt with your mother’s death any better than when it happened.”

  “You’re right, I haven’t,” she agreed, cradling the mug with both hands, letting its warmth seep into her palms. Somehow she managed to go in to work most days, but she’d been late a number of times. Again and again she sat in front of the television and escaped into her favorite movies. Movies her mother had loved, too—romance, adventure, suspense, anything that would take her mind off the lies Virginia had told her. Lies both her parents had conspired in.

  “What do you do here every night?” he asked. “Besides watch Humphrey Bogart and Cary Grant movies.”

  “Do?” It seemed he had only to look around for an answer to that.

  He glanced back into the living room and frowned.

  Lorraine tried to look at the house through his eyes and had to admit its appearance must come as something of a shock. She was as neat and orderly as her mother had been. Both were meticulous housekeepers, yet Lorraine had gone about systematically tearing every room apart. The place was a shambles.

  “What do you hope to prove?” he asked.

  Lorraine was stunned by his lack of comprehension. “I’m not hoping to prove anything. I’m hoping to find what else my mother saw fit to hide from me.”

  He gazed into the distance as if it took some effort to assimilate her words. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you thought about talking to a counselor?” he asked gently. He risked glancing in her direction.

  “You mean a mental-health professional?”

  “Ah…yes.”

  Lorraine burst out laughing. “You think I’ve gone off the deep end? That I’m losing it?” As her laugh turned to a giggle, she wondered if he was right. At times the feeling of betrayal and pain threatened to strangle her. That her parents, particularly her mother, had chosen to lie to her was incomprehensible.

  “I know how difficult this is for you,” Gary added, rushing his words. “I’m trying to understand, and I know the people at Group Wellness are, too, but there’s a limit to just how accommodating everyone can be while you deal with this.”

  “I agree with you.”

  Gary’s eyes revealed his suspicion. “You do?”

  “I’m booking the next month off work.”

  “A month?” She could tell he was taken aback by the news. “That long? I think a week or two should be sufficient, don’t you?”

  “Not for what I have in mind.”

  “I thought we were going to save most of our vacation time for our honeymoon and—” He stopped midsentence and his eyes narrowed. “Have in mind? You have something in mind?”

  “I’m going to see my father.”

  It was a moment before he spoke. “When?”

  “My flight’s scheduled to leave at seven o’clock Tuesday morning.”

  Gary stared at her. “When did you decide this?” His voice was calm, which Lorraine recognized as a sign of anger.

  “Last week.” She’d known when she bought the ticket that Gary would disapprove. It was one of the reasons she hadn’t discussed her plans with him beforehand.

  “I see,” he said in a hurt-little-boy voice. He picked up his mug and took a long swallow.

  “I phoned the school where he teaches and talked to the secretary.” Communication had been difficult, but the woman’s English was far superior to Lorraine’s high-school Spanish.

  Gary’s silence was comment enough, but Lorraine hurried on with the details, hoping to settle this before she left for Mexico. She didn’t want to slight Gary or offend him, but she had to see her father, talk to him face-to-face. She had to find out what had driven him and her mother apart. Why her parents had allowed her to believe he was dead. There had to be a logical explanation for the lie; she prayed there was. Of all the emotions he’d revealed in his letter, the strongest was love, for her and for Virginia. And all these years they’d deprived her of that love. Why?

  “Have you talked to your father?” Gary asked, his voice now devoid of emotion.

  She hesitated before answering, knowing Gary would find fault with this aspect of her plan. “Not directly.”

  “I see.”

  “The phone number is for the school where he teaches.”

  “So you said.”

  “And he was in class when I called,” she continued. Surely that made perfect sense. “I left a message giving my flight information and asking him to meet my plane.”

  “Then he returned your phone call?”

  Again she hesitated. “Not exactly.”

  Gary snorted. “It’s a simple question, Lorraine. Either he returned your call or he didn’t.”

  This conversation had been unsatisfactory almost from the first. “I resent your tone, Gary. I was hoping you’d support me.”

  He released his breath in a long-suffering sigh. “I just wish you’d talked to me about it first.”

  “I’m sorry,” she told him, and she was. “I realize this is unfair to you, but I have to find out what happened between my parents. My father’s alive, and I want a chance to know him—to talk to him, to learn why they felt they had to lie. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  He took his time answering. “Yes,” he admitted with obvious reluctance. “But like I said, I wish you’d included me in this decision. We’re engaged. I would’ve thought you’d want to talk it over with me before you booked the trip.”

  “I’m going to see my father, not quit my job.”

  “Taking a month off has…ramifications,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Our honeymoon time,” he shot back. “Group Wellness isn’t going to give you a month off now and then two more weeks a couple of months down the road.”

  “Five months.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Gary, please. Try to see it from my point of view.”

  “See it from mine.”

  “Darling, I’m sorry,” Lorraine said. “I was hoping you’d understand. I have to do this before I can get on with my life—with our life.”

  Slowly he nodded, as if his agreeing to her trip was a gift. “I still wish you’d told me so I could’ve changed my schedule and joined you.”

  Joined her? Not once had Lorraine considered asking Gary to accompany her. He couldn’t come anyway, she thought with a surge of relief. Not when he was so recently promoted and training his replacement.

  But that wasn’t the real reason, and she knew it. She loved Gary, but she didn’t want him with her. This journey into her family’s past was her adventure, and hers alone.

  * * *

  Letting Lorraine travel to Mexico by herself had never sat easy with Gary Franklin. He loved his fiancée and realized this was a difficult, unsettling time for her. A measure of his love was his willingness to stand by and watch her fly off on her own. Not only that, he’d offered to drive her to the airport—which meant getting up at 4:00 a.m. He glanced at his watch in the dashboard light. Quarter to five now. They’d discussed this trip countless times since the morning she’d sprung it on him, and he was convinced she was making a mistake. But Lorraine didn’t want to hear that and had stopped listening to him.

  Although his only intent was to protect her, shield her from further hurt, she refused to imagine any outcome other than a joyful reunion with the father she’d never known. He’d long admired Lorraine for her common sense, but she exhibited little of it in this unpleasant matter.

  Gary had liked Virginia, and her death had shaken him, too. He’d respected Lorraine’s mother for her business savvy and the way she worked in what was still largely a man’s world. Furthermore he trusted her judgment. Since she’d chosen to tell Lorraine a lie regarding her father, he figured there had to be a good reason. Gary feared that whatever it was would mean bad news for Lorraine, maybe even heartbreak.

  Besides her unwillingness to listen to his advice, he couldn’t help resenting the fact that she didn’t want him with her. She hadn’t tried to hide it, either, and that hurt.

  He parked the car and collected his thoughts as he approached the house.

  “Ready?” he asked Lorraine when she answered the door.

  She nodded. At least she’d packed sensibly, he noted—just one medium-size wheeled suitcase. She wasn’t like some women, who found it necessary to bring every outfit they owned. She looked smart, too, in an off-white linen pantsuit, her blond hair neatly pulled back. She seemed a little uncertain, but obviously determined to follow through.

  “Do you have your passport?”

  “Yes.”

  “Traveler’s checks and cash?”

  She nodded.

  “Insect repellant?”

  “Gary! Honestly, you make me sound like a child heading off to camp.”

  He hadn’t seen it like that, but she was probably right. “Sorry,” he said with a grin.

  Because there was hardly any traffic this early, the drive to the airport didn’t take long. He insisted on having a coffee with her after she’d checked in. They sat there, not knowing what to say.

  “I don’t want you to worry,” she murmured at last.

  “I’ll try not to. Will you phone?”

  She shrugged lightly. “I don’t know about the phone situation in El Mirador. My guess is the schoolhouse is the only place in town with a working phone.”

  He wished she hadn’t reminded him how primitive this village was likely to be.

  “I’ll write,” she promised, “and phone if I can. Plus I’ll email if I have a chance.”

  “Great.” He had to be happy with that.

  They hugged and kissed and he clung to her for a moment, then stepped back as she left for the departure lounge. She’d vanished from view, and still Gary stood there.

  Despite Lorraine’s optimism, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything—in his life and in hers—was about to change.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jack Keller had never thought of himself as a big-game fisherman. But owning a thirty-two-foot twin-diesel cabin cruiser made about as much sense as anything else in his life, which was damn little.

  He’d “retired” as a mercenary, gotten out of the death-defying game while the getting was good. At the end of his five-year stint he was sick of it all. Sick of the low-profile corporate rescues Deliverance Company had specialized in. Jack was tired of fighting hotheaded terrorist groups and corrupt governments that used innocents in a cruel game of greed and revenge.

  He had, however, been paid well for his skills, and he’d managed to save most of it. The major part had been wisely invested, and with the proceeds of the sale of his condominium in Kansas City, he could live comfortably in Mexico until he was a very old man. Growing old in the tropics appealed to Jack. Footloose and fancy-free, that was him. The boat was a bonus he hadn’t expected. An inheritance of sorts from Quinn McBride, a friend whose life he’d saved a decade earlier. Jack had lived aboard Scotch on Water for the past three years. He’d stayed in the Gulf of Mexico for most of that time, dropped anchor here and there, made a few friends. The strongest of these friendships was with Thomas Dancy, another American expatriate who lived in the tiny coastal town of El Mirador.

  Although Thomas was about fifteen years his senior, the two shared a camaraderie and a deep love of their adopted country. Thomas was a man of secrets, but Jack had a few of his own. It was because of Thomas and Azucena that Jack had hung around the Yucatán; in the past few weeks, though, he’d decided to expand his horizons. Lately he’d been thinking about heading to the Florida Keys, stopping off at some of those small Caribbean paradises along the way. He’d heard the people were friendly, and it didn’t hurt any that the women were gorgeous.

  Then again, he might return to Belize. He’d pulled into port at Belize City any number of times and he was impressed with the beauty of the country. His American dollars were always welcome; Jack had no problem with that. The women were warm and friendly—and there was a pretty señorita he was sure would be glad to see him. Jack couldn’t quite remember her name, but no doubt it’d come to him in time.