The Billion Dollar Pact. Sheri WhiteFeather

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СКАЧАТЬ loans.”

      Carol was still paying on her loans, but she had a good job and a generous boss who provided a discount on her rent. Without Jake, she wouldn’t be making it as easily as she was. “That’s nice of you.”

      “Thanks. My aunt appreciates everything I’ve done for her and her kids. But we haven’t bonded, not in a way that feels like blood.” He shrugged it off. “Maybe someday we will. But what matters most to me is my foster brothers. They’re my true family.”

      Carol nodded. After hearing the whole story, she understood more about his loyalty to them.

      “I still can’t relate to how you handled being orphaned,” he said, bringing the discussion back to her.

      She took a moment to think about her response, to delve deeper into her history. “Being responsible is in my nature.” She couldn’t change that about herself, nor did she want to. “But being creative helped, too. I felt better when I learned to quilt. One of my foster mothers and her neighbors used to make quilts, and they showed me how to do it, too. The first one I worked on with them was a scrap quilt, made from fabrics they traded with one another. Some quilters collect scraps like trading cards.” She paused, then added, “But the main reason quilting became so therapeutic for me is when I started making them by myself I would choose fabrics that reminded me of my family. It was like piecing together my memories and keeping them alive.”

      Jake watched her work on the mermaid, almost as if he were imagining watching her sew. “Did you make a quilt that represented your hopes and dreams, too? Did you put fabrics together that embodied your future husband and the kids you were going to have?”

      Stunned by how spot-on he was, Carol met his gaze. He was keeping a close eye on her. So close it made her feel like a ladybug under a microscope. “What makes you think I did that?”

      “It just seems like something you would’ve done, with how you used to fantasize about your wedding.”

      “You’re right. I did make a quilt like that.” She wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. “I used a fancy white fabric to symbolize my dress. To showcase my kids, I used baby prints—pink teddy bears for a girl and blue dinosaurs for a boy.”

      “What about for your husband? What did you use to represent him?”

      “A shiny black tuxedo material.” She’d never really pictured what her groom would look like, other than that he would be dressed in formal wear. “I used a red rose pattern, too, because those are the flowers I envisioned in the ceremony.”

      “Do you still have it?”

      “Yes. I saved all of my old quilts.” She had them tucked away in her room. They were an important part of her childhood, of her heart, of the person she’d become. “Do you still think I’m broken?”

      “Yes, but in a really sweet way.” He sent her a teasing smile, even if he was still watching her just as closely as before.

      “Okay, Mr. Juvenile Delinquent.” She reached into the sand, dug around and found a shell, intending to throw it at him. But she held on to it instead, thinking how pretty it was. “You and your stolen jewelry.”

      “Thank goodness I got caught, huh? Or I might have become a cat burglar instead of the privileged playboy that I am today.”

      Privileged indeed. He’d carved out quite a life for himself. “Someday my dreams are going to come true, too.”

      His expression changed, his smile fading, his tone much more serious. “For a big white wedding?”

      She glanced at the shell. She was still holding it, the chevron shape fitting delicately into her hand. “I want a family. I always have.”

      “Just be happy, no matter what you do.”

      “I will.” She placed the shell in the mermaid’s hair, using it as decoration.

      “That looks nice,” Jake said. “Should we collect more of those?”

      Carol nodded, and they both sifted through the sand, together yet somehow still alone.

      * * *

      At dusk the guests had dinner on the beach, prepared by the chef and his team. Although vegetable skewers and salads were available, the main dish was a seafood boil, lightly seasoned and served with a traditional tartar sauce or a spicy salsa, if you preferred your food with a bit of a kick.

      Tons of fires had been built, either for large groups of people who wanted to socialize or for couples who preferred to be by themselves, which was what Jake and Carol had chosen.

      While they ate, they sat on a big fluffy blanket at their own cozy little fire. He couldn’t think of a nicer way to spend the evening, especially with how mesmerized Carol seemed.

      “Look how enchanted everything is,” she said, gazing out into the distance.

      He followed her line of sight. The completed sandcastle had been decorated with hundreds of candles, creating an otherworldly effect. The majestic architecture presented soaring pillars, domed archways and flying buttresses. The detail was magnificent, even from across the beach.

      She spoke softly, reverently. “I can see our mermaid from here.”

      “I see her, too.” Their sculpture was surrounded by twinkling lights.

      “I feel so protective of her. The way she’s beckoning the sea with her beauty.”

      Jake turned to look at Carol, impressed with how beautiful she was, too. She wore a shiny mesh cover-up over her bikini, and her hair was pinned loosely on top of her head, a few silky strands falling about her face. “Don’t worry. She can handle her own.”

      “Not when the tide comes in. Everything will be gone then.”

      “That’s part of the magic. Nothing is supposed to last forever.”

      “Like this weekend?” she asked with a faraway sound in her voice.

      “Yes, like this trip.” As he admired Carol’s profile, he realized that he’d neglected to share an important part of his past with her. “You’re never going to believe what I forgot to tell you.”

      “What?” she asked, finally turning toward him.

      “The Choctaw mermaid legend.” Of all things to forget, he thought, after they’d spent half the day making one.

      She shifted on the blanket, like an eager child settling in for a ghost story, her food half-eaten. “You can tell me now.”

      Jake collected his thoughts, recalling the story as it had been told to him. “They’re called ‘white people of the water’ because they have pale, trout-like skin. They live in the bayou, in the deepest part of the water. But where it’s clear, too. They aren’t murky creatures.”

      Firelight shone in her eyes. “Are they beautiful, like our mermaid?”

      “I don’t know, exactly. But I’d like to think that they are. Thing is, though, that if you accidentally fall into the water, they’ll capture you and take you to their world.” СКАЧАТЬ