When I Fall in Love Page 6

  “Two down is ‘General on Chinese menus,’” she read.

  “That’s easy—Tso.”

  “Sow?”

  “T-S-O.”

  “Right. I should have thought of that. We don’t have Chinese takeout where I live.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s a small town. We don’t even have pizza delivery.”

  He put his hand over his heart as if in pain. “I’m so very sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I work at a pizza place, so I bring it home.”

  “Your family must love you.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “One across. ‘Water ring, not gold.’”

  He counted the letters. “Atoll.”

  “A what?”

  “Atoll. It’s a ring-shaped coral reef that encircles a lagoon.”

  “Wow. You’re a fount of crossword information.”

  He had beautiful eyes. She noticed that, too, when he looked at her and grinned. Crystalline brown, with green at the center, and just staring at them turned her insides all warm.

  Or maybe that was the plane jerking through turbulence.

  “Oh no.” She pressed a hand to her stomach.

  “Don’t worry; it’ll pass.”

  Grace hoped so.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t travel well. On planes or boats or—I get terribly sick.” When she reached for the airsickness bag, he pulled back, his face white. “Sorry.”

  “No, that’s okay.” He reached up to hit his call button, but she stopped him.

  “Please, don’t. I’ll be okay. I just need to hold the bag.”

  “Right.” He gave her a smile, but it didn’t touch his eyes.

  “This is a disaster. I knew it would be. I shouldn’t have come on this stupid trip.” She handed him the crossword puzzle. “Thank you, but I think I’m just going to sit here and try not to regret my life.”

  “Ah, c’mon. It’s Hawaii. You’ll be fine when you get there.”

  “No, trust me on this. It’s only going to get worse. Like I said, I don’t travel well—I never have. When I go someplace by myself, it’s always a disaster. I have a terrible time, or I get sick . . . I think I’m just one of those people who should never leave home.”

  He gave a chuckle and she glanced at him.

  “It’s not funny. I’m serious. Last time I left home, I got snowed in on the side of the highway. And before that, I visited my sister and got food poisoning from this little Thai place she took me to.”

  “I love Thai food.”

  “Me too! That’s what made it worse. The fact is, I can’t leave home without it turning into a fiasco, and I hate it. I like my small-town life; I don’t need more.” She should have figured that out instead of letting an impulse lead her down dark—and turbulent—roads.

  She closed her eyes, leaned back into the seat, breathing. And now she’d made a fool of herself in front of this nice soldier who probably traveled all over the world.

  “Here, drink this.”

  She opened her eyes to find him cracking open a bottle of water. She took it and noticed her hands shaking.

  He twisted the air nozzle, let the air blow over her. She gulped it in, then took a sip of water.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s . . . I guess I’m nervous. It’s not just the flying. Or the fact that I know I’m going to have a terrible time. I’m supposed to meet someone in Hawaii. My sister set me up, and the more I think about it, the worse I feel.”

  “You have a blind date in Hawaii?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” She pressed the bottle to her forehead and wished it were cold. “I should have said no to the entire thing. But I can’t seem to say the word. It’s like it’s right there on my lips, and yet—nope, it doesn’t come out.” She shook her head. “And then there’s my mom, with her green smoothies and ‘live outside the box’ encouragement. What if I like the box? She can’t accept that. I mean, from the time I was a little kid, I was telling her, ‘Mom, I like living at home.’ But she couldn’t believe me. There I am, ten years old, and she’s signing me up for camp, hoping I might love it.”

  “Camp?”

  “Oh yeah. My brother and sister attended, so it must be great, right? I spent the entire week with a stomachache, without a swim buddy, crying myself to sleep.”

  “I take it you just went the one time.”

  “No. She made me go again. And again. Until finally they refused to take me. I think the camp director must have called my mother, told her what a fiasco I was.”

  “I doubt—”

  “Trust me on this.”

  He wore a look of concern that suddenly stilled the whirring in her stomach and cooled the hot flush against her skin. Something about him . . . maybe it was just the freedom of talking to a stranger on a plane . . . but he had a calm, decidedly easy aura about him that allowed her to breathe.

  Thank You, Lord, for not putting me next to a jerk.

  “The problem is, I’m not sure if my mom is right or if it’s just my inability to say no, to stand up for myself. See, I’ve lived at home my entire life, and everyone seems to think there is more for me, but . . . I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked at him. “Have you ever felt like there was something more for you, but it seemed just out of reach? Like, you know you want it, but somehow, you’re also scared to reach for it? What if, after all this effort, it turns out to be a joke? Or worse—horrible? What if you take the big leap and—?”

  “And you fall. And get hurt.” His voice emerged small, even tremulous, as if yes, he understood.

  “Then you’re back where you started, only worse because now you know it’s not worth it.”

  He had stopped smiling, now considered her. “Yeah,” he said softly.

  “That’s what this trip is. Reaching out against my better judgment. And I have this awful feeling I’m going to fall, hard. I’m going to regret getting on this plane.”

  “Please don’t say that so loud.”

  “Sorry.”

  He stared at her a long moment, those magical brown eyes holding hers, and she had the uncanny feeling that he might do something crazy like take her hand. But he didn’t, just finally took a long breath and smiled. It had the effect of yanking her out of the abyss she seemed to be hurtling toward, his voice kind and even enthusiastic.

  “Listen, Hawaii is a blast. There’s so much to do. Surfing and snorkeling, parasailing and cliff-diving and turtle watching and beaches . . . not to mention Pearl Harbor and the history of Hawaii. You’re going to have a great time. If you didn’t already have a travel companion, I’d show you around myself.”

  “Really?” Oh, she sounded eager. Too eager. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, Travel companion? What travel companion?

  “Yeah. I’d take you to this restaurant overlooking Waikiki Beach, and we’d watch the bodysurfers as we ate fish tacos. We’d climb Diamond Head and see the crater, take pictures of the view of Honolulu. Watch the surf break. We’d drive up to the shrimp shacks on the North Shore of the island and then go watch the real surfers on the big waves. On the way home, we’d see if the turtles were still basking on the beaches, maybe take in a sunset.”

  She rested a hand on her stomach, but the roil inside had started to subside.

  “I’d take you to Pearl Harbor—and to the monument, tour the submarine parked there—and then we’d hit a fresh sushi place for some tuna rolls.”

  “I’ve never had sushi.”

  “Oh, you’ll love it. It’s . . . Well, you have to promise me to have sushi at least once during your stay.”

  “I . . . Yeah. Maybe.”

  “That’s not a promise.”

  She tried to give him a smile. “You’re very sweet, 9A. But I don’t know how much free time I’ll have.”

  He sighed. “I get it. This guy might want you all to himself.”

  She laughed. “No . . . it’s not that kind of . . . meeting. He’s just doing my sister a favor. And I’m absolutely morti
fied. It’s like they recruited him to babysit me. I don’t need babysitting. In fact, I’m not actually there for a vacation. It’s more of a . . . Well, my sister set it up. She wants me to cater her wedding, and she thinks that somehow I’ll be inspired.”

  His smile had vanished, and he seemed to go all stiff, a frown creasing his face. “Um . . . why are you going to Hawaii?”

  “I’m attending a culinary school. Three weeks of learning to cook. It was a gift from my family.”

  Her eyes fell on the magazine in his grip. On the cover, a picture of succulent pasta with summer squash and mushrooms. Then her gaze moved to the bag at his feet, bearing the familiar blue logo of the St. Paul Blue Ox.

  Oh no. She saw him then, in her mind’s eye, with long brown hair, a beard. A helmet.

  Please—“Um . . .”

  But he beat her to it. “Is your name Grace Christiansen?”

  It was then her stomach decided to clench, roll, and expel the tuna sandwich she’d eaten between flights at LAX.

  Oh, how she wanted to say no.

  Casper Christiansen had never been the jealous type. He experienced not a hint of envy when big brother, Darek, motored off to Montana to fight fires. Or when Eden moved to the big city of Minneapolis to attend college. He didn’t even begrudge Grace her trip to Hawaii.

  But seeing Owen pack his motorcycle lit an unfamiliar, searing burn inside Casper. It had grown from an ember to a full-out blaze by the time he’d set down his drill, climbed off the half-finished deck of cabin eight, and stalked up the sawdust path to the parking lot.

  “Seriously?”

  He couldn’t quite manage more than that as Owen looked up with what appeared to be sincere surprise on his face.

  “What?”

  Now Casper found his voice. “You’re leaving? Do you see how much work we have to get done this summer?” He gestured to the twelve cabins, some finished, others with only a frame outlining their future. “You’re going to leave Darek and me to finish this alone?”

  Owen had the audacity to lift a shoulder. “I’m not a builder.”

  “Oh, but you’re a firefighter?”

  Owen shoved a canvas bag into one of his saddlebags. “I guess so.”

  Casper couldn’t quite get his head around this new, dark version of his younger brother that had appeared a week ago for Darek and Ivy’s wedding. Owen, it seemed, hadn’t shaved since the wedding, his beard sparse with reddish highlights. He wore a blue bandanna on his head, his blond hair curling from the back. That, added to his leather jacket, and Casper suspected he might be going for a tough-guy aura.

  He knew the truth. “Bro, I know losing hockey’s been rough on you, but consider Mom and Dad. They’re trying to get this place put back together—”

  “It’s a lost cause.” Owen turned to him, his eyes cool.

  Nope, Casper didn’t recognize him in the least.

  “Who’s going to want to vacation in this moonscape? Mom and Dad are fooling themselves to think they can rescue this place. Throw it in, Casp. You’re only feeding the lie.”

  Owen turned back, finished strapping the saddlebag. “You should leave too, before this place sucks you in and you can’t break free.”

  “It’s not about breaking free, Owen. I have things I want to do too. But it’s about responsibility and helping Mom and Dad rebuild.”

  “Listen, Mom and Dad understand—”

  “You think they understand why you came home plastered a couple days ago? And let’s not even speculate where you were the night Ivy and Darek got married because I’m pretty sure we won’t like where it lands us.”

  Owen’s jaw tightened. “That’s my business.”

  “Not when you live in this town. Not when you’re a Christiansen. People are watching, Owen, and guess what, Mom is too. You really hurt her—”

  “Leave Mom out of it.”

  “No, I won’t. Because they built something here, and you’re walking away from it and humiliating her in the process.”

  Owen rounded on him. “Yeah, well, I want my own destiny. My own identity. I don’t want this.” He gestured past Casper to what remained of Evergreen Resort, the still-charred framing of the garage, the cracked and ashy picnic shelter foundation. “I’m leaving, and I’m sorry if Mom gets hurt in the process, but I have to live my own life.” He turned his back to Casper.

  Casper just barely stopped himself from reaching out, from grabbing Owen back.

  Stay calm.

  He put as much older and wiser brother into his tone as he could muster. “I promised Darek I’d stick around this summer, help him keep Evergreen on the map. I was counting on you to help us. It’s not just rebuilding—it’s helping people remember we’re not licked. It’s about PR, like the annual dragon boat races. We still have a boat in this year’s race, and we need you.”

  Owen let out a laugh, something almost angry. “What, did Darek tell you that?”

  In fact, he had. Casper turned his hat around, let the brim shade his eyes. “He asked me to organize it this year. I was counting on you to paddle. We didn’t even enter last year, with the fire consuming the county, and we have a comeback story waiting for us. Have you totally forgotten our three years as champions? C’mon—it’ll be the Christiansen brothers, paddling home to victory.”

  He tried to interject memory in his voice, the golden snapshot of him and Darek and Owen crossing the finish line so many years ago, paddles held high.

  Yeah, that day he’d felt invincible.

  Owen stared at him a long time. Then he laughed. “What happened to you, Casper? You were the one most likely to strike it rich. I used to think you were so cool—a pirate searching for lost treasure. Now you’re just . . . Yeah, I’m not sure what you are. A handyman?”

  A fist closed around Casper’s heart, the memory vanishing.

  Owen threw his leg over his bike, grabbed his helmet. “Tell Darek that his pals on the Jude County Hotshots say hi.” He started the bike, revved it, then put down his visor.

  He raised two fingers a second before he took off out of the driveway.

  Casper stood there in the cloud of gravel dust, hating the grit of Owen’s words, how it settled deep.

  And did nothing to douse the burning inside.

  He blew out a breath and turned to head back to the cabin, then opted for the long dock that led to the water. With his mother in town with Tiger, Dad painting inside one of the cabins, and Amelia gone photographing a wedding, the place seemed so lonely.

  As if in confirmation, the wind hushed through the trees and a loon called, mourning across the lake. He sat on the end of the dock, unlacing his work boots. He dipped his feet into the cool, sun-dappled water. The refreshment eased the hot spots, the calluses.

  You were the one most likely to strike it rich.

  What was he doing here? Casper leaned back on his hands, lifted his face to the sun. He knew the answer—at least why he’d come home. And why he’d stayed.

  But . . .

  He worked out the square of paper from his back pocket. Unfolded it and smoothed it. Reread it in the sunlight.

  Footsteps on the dock, and he didn’t have a chance to put the printed e-mail away before a shadow crossed over him.

  “I saw Owen leaving as I drove in.” Amelia sat down next to him, cross-legged. “I wanted to show him the family shots I got at the wedding. I had them printed.” She handed him an envelope.

  He opened it. Pulled out an eight-by-ten of the entire family, all grouped around Darek and Ivy. Yeah, they looked happy, grinning as they assembled on the boulders along Lake Superior. His parents clasped hands, so much love in their pose.

  Not a hint of the struggles of the past year, with the resort, with Owen.

  And within himself. He gave the picture back to Amelia.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Nothing.”

  She took the paper from his hand. He didn’t look at her, didn’t want to invite comment.

  “C
ool. You should do it.” She handed the paper back to him. “But where is Roatán?”

  Casper wasn’t sure why, but his stomach tightened at her encouragement. “It’s a little island off Honduras. The lore is that pirates used to bury their treasures there.”

  “Which is why your buddy Duncan invited you on the dig. Underwater exploration? Isn’t that your specialty in your major? Are you going to go?”

  “I don’t know. It’s . . . There’s a lot to do here.”

  “The dig doesn’t start until August. You should go. Are you kidding me—five months in the Caribbean? And you’ll probably earn credits for your degree.”

  Like that mattered. He schooled his voice. “I don’t know. We have more cabins to build, and I promised Darek I’d run this year’s dragon boat for him. We gotta keep the Evergreen spirit alive until we reopen.”

  “I love the dragon boat festival, but do we have enough for a team?” She flipped through the photos.

  “We lost Owen, but we gain Ivy. And there’s Dad and Mom, and Nathan Decker and his family, and some others who said they might be up for it.”

  “You’ll figure it out. You always find a way.” She got up, shaded her eyes. “By the way, Darek didn’t rope you into anything. We both know you’re his secret weapon.”

  “Why’s that?” He couldn’t help it—he raised his arm and flexed. “It’s the guns, isn’t it?”

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “No, silly. It’s because he can count on you to show up. We all can. Think about it. Darek and Owen are bookends—dark and unpredictable. But you’re the poster boy for the Christiansen family.”

  Oh, what she didn’t know. He sighed but pasted on a smile.

  “I gotta get ready to go. I’m meeting a potential client in town.”

  He waved his hand as she headed down the dock.

  The poster boy.

  He stared at the e-mail invitation. Folded it. Threw it into the water.

  MAX COULD STAND HERE FOREVER on his private balcony of the Hokeo Resort, mesmerized by the aqua-blue water, dappled by mysterious coral shadows and shades of rippling sand, and watch as the ocean sent cascade after cascade of frothy white waves to shore in quiet applause.