He began shaking his head; the pain would subside eventually. He needed to get back to Talofofo, but one look at her face and he stopped. Maybe fate had intervened to give him the courage to do what he’d been putting off for more than a year. A jab in the arm caught his attention and he looked down to see Nana, her eyebrows raised at him. He didn’t need her to speak to know what she wanted him to do. She’d been bugging him for months to get in touch with Anna.
After nodding to his mother to let her know he understood her silent message, he followed Anna silently to a tent that had just been erected. A man was delivering boxes.
She opened a zippered bag and one-handedly pulled out a folded cot. Anna had always been self-sufficient, preferring to do the hard work herself rather than ask someone else for help. It was her strength that he’d been drawn to when they’d first met, and also what he had counted on to get them through their son’s death.
“Sit,” she said sternly.
He was lower than her on the cot, so he tipped his head back to take her in. She looked the same, yet different. The luscious brown and golden locks that had hung all the way to her waist were cropped short now, close to her earlobes. Once vibrant blue-gray eyes were tired and had crinkles around them that hadn’t existed five years ago. Her face held more definition, less of the fullness that used to be there. She was far more beautiful, but hauntingly so. Sadness shrouded her.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight.” He winced as the words left his mouth. Didn’t mean to say it out loud.
She pressed her lips together. “Yeah, well, I haven’t had your relatives stuffing food down my throat.”
His gut twisted at the bitterness in her voice. One of his favorite memories was right after she’d given birth to Lucas. Her face had a plumpness to it, her skin shone brightly, her normally slim figure had a wonderful feminine roundness. His relatives had showered her with attention and food, and she’d welcomed the nurturing for herself and baby Lucas. It was the only time in their marriage she’d embraced the presence of his extended family.
“Remove your shirt.”
He wasn’t going to make this any easier on her than it was on him. She had left him. Nico had done everything he could to get her to stay. When he finally let her go, it was with the hope that distance would heal her. He’d emailed her. Once a week for the first year, then monthly until he’d given up two years ago when she still hadn’t answered. Not a single text, email or call. Not even to tell him she was okay. She’d even shut down her Facebook page, so he had no idea where she was or what she was doing. He’d finally resorted to emailing her sister Caroline, who at least had the decency to give him regular updates on what was happening with Anna, and let him know that she wasn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere.
He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it, wincing at the stab of pain across his belly. She inhaled sharply as he slid the shirt across his head and balled it up.
“How did you get that cut?”
“Tito got himself trapped under a car. The door had a jagged edge I didn’t see when I was pulling him out.”
“It’s dirty and likely to get infected.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Some things never change,” she muttered.
“Anna.”
When she was upset at him, her eyes would normally turn an icy blue, a color he loved so much he would sometimes needle her just to see it. But now there was nothing but darkness. The same one that had been there when she left the island. He had hoped time would heal her. That leaving him would somehow bring her comfort. It hadn’t.
“I’m going to stitch it up, then give you antibiotics.”
She went to leave, but he grabbed her hand. Her skin felt soft, her hand small and fragile in his. “Why aren’t you at peace with what happened to us?”
Her eyes flashed. “Because it didn’t happen to us, it happened to me.” His chest burned. No matter how hard he tried, she had never let him share her pain. Looking at her now, a familiar tightness choked his chest. He had grieved for Lucas, but he had moved on with his life. Taking a breath, he tried to shake off the suffocating feeling. What was wrong with him? He was at peace with what had happened. It was Anna who obviously still needed closure.
“Anna, you have to stop blaming yourself. You’re not the reason Lucas died.”
“I’m not the only reason. This island is the other reason. If we had been in California, he never would have died.”
He let go of her hand and she stepped away. After Lucas’s death, she had begged him to leave Guam, to come with her to California where they could start a new life. When they married, he’d thought she understood the man he was, a family man, one who wouldn’t leave his home, his land. Not like his father. But ultimately she hadn’t understood. She’d left without him and he’d let her go, thinking she would come back after time healed her wounds. But she hadn’t come back. Nor had she healed.
Anna rummaged through some boxes and returned to him. He started to say something but stopped when a man entered the tent and began unpacking medical supplies.
Anna held up a needle in one hand and an upside-down bottle in another.
“Lie back,” she ordered.
Nico lay on his back and felt her pouring liquid over his belly. It stung. He closed his eyes; there was no point in repeating the same conversation they’d had for months after Lucas’s death.
A needle pierced his stomach, sending a sharp pain through his body, but then everything went blissfully numb. He opened his eyes and craned his neck. Anna was bent over him, stitching away. He remembered the last time he’d seen her like this and a different pain speared his chest.
“Anna...”
“Not now, Nico.”
He waited patiently until she was done and saw her place a dressing over his wound. When she turned away, he sat up.
The man who’d been unpacking boxes left with an armful of empty containers.
“Anna...”
She turned to him, her eyes wet. “I can’t do this, Nico. Not here.”
He stood, then reached out and took her hand, pulling her close to him. She rested her face on his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, he placed his hand on her head, feeling her soft cheek on his bare skin, weaving his fingers into her silky hair. The years melted away as he felt her body against his. She belonged to him, always had. But her wounds were still as raw as the day she left. This island had never been her home because she hadn’t let it be. And never would.
“I’ve missed you, Anna.”
She nodded against his chest and he knew she still loved him, had felt the agony of their distance just as he had. Lifting her head, she stepped back, eyes shining, cheeks wet. He felt what she wanted to say. The very words that were on his lips. “Anna...we...” They were simple words, yet they stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him.
Her big, wet eyes stabbed at his soul. “Nico, I can’t do this. I can never come back here for good. We...we...we need to divorce.”
SHE FELT HIS pain more acutely than her own. Yet Anna stood poised to cut into the delicate heart of her two-month-old son. Her hand trembled slightly as she touched the precision steel blade to pale pink skin. Right before it pierced, she retracted the scalpel. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Even a minuscule tremble could end Lucas’s life. She wasn’t a cardiac surgeon, but if she didn’t correct the big hole in his heart, he would die. If she made the tiniest of mistakes, he would die. If any one of a