“I didn’t see Rashad’s golf cart...” Madison said, nodding her head toward the window.
“No?” Yvana peered out. “Huh. I told Gus to get it, but he must be backed up today. Don’t you worry. I can drive you. The front office can watch itself for five minutes. But first, let me call someone to deal with this mess.”
* * *
YVANA EXPERTLY MANEUVERED the small tan-and-green golf cart emblazoned with the North Captiva Club logo through the sand trails of the island. A simple white post marked most turnoffs and to a visitor’s eye, easy to miss. Ahead of them, tourists who were new to the island studied a map, then scratched their heads. Yvana pulled over to help them find their way. Phone GPS didn’t work well here, and one sand-lined trail looked pretty much like another. As she waited, Madison craned her neck back to catch the sun’s rays, feeling comfortably warm and much less sick to her stomach. It must be the island weather, she thought. She was already starting to feel better. More hopeful.
Yvana asked the tourists if they needed help, but they waved her off, determined to find their own way.
“Tourists,” Yvana said as she waved at them and hit the gas. “They might get to their place before the end of the week.” Pity laced her voice. She took a sharp left then by a big white house with a wraparound porch, and a moment later, they were speeding along a little lagoon spotted with ducks and a couple of white cranes. Above them, a canopy of palm trees provided shade as they sped by in the little cart.
“Not any of my business,” Yvana said, “but you know what you’re going to do? About the baby?”
“I’m going to keep it. I’m not sure how. Mom offered to babysit, but I think that’s a lot to ask of her.”
“You got time to sort it out,” Yvana said, keeping her eyes on the road. “What about the father? What’s he doing in all this?”
Madison sucked in a breath. “Haven’t told him.” She thought of Collin’s smug face, his always-right smile. Won’t ever, either.
Yvana’s head swiveled, and she glanced at Madison’s profile.
“Is it because he’s the running type or the marrying type?”
Madison let out a long, tired breath. “I don’t know. Which one is the me-first type? Hell, me-first and me-only?”
Yvana chuckled. “Oh, then, well, that ain’t going to work at all. He’d get a rude awakening when he found out the baby always comes first.” The breeze ruffled her colorful head scarf. “But don’t you worry, honey. You’ll figure it out.”
Madison hoped so.
Yvana took a hard right onto a road nearly covered by brush, and a yellow daffodil hit her knee as they turned into her uncle’s long driveway. It almost felt as if they were ducking into some deserted rain forest, but then the path widened and she saw the sandy yard, the big blue two-story house on stilts, making it as tall as your average three-story building. Yvana swung the cart into the little circular sand drive, letting Madison off at the steps.
“Looks like the guys already brought your luggage,” Yvana said. Madison saw her suitcase and grocery tote sitting on the front porch near the front door.
“Thanks for the lift, Yvana.”
“No worries. And if you need anything, you call me, you hear? Anything at all. Pickles and ice cream, even.”
Madison turned and leaned into the golf cart and gave Yvana a big hug, tears pushing out from behind her closed eyelids. Damn these pregnancy hormones.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Yvana returned the hug. “You bet,” she said. “Take care of yourself. And I’ll be by later with that remedy I told you about. It’ll settle your stomach in no time.”
“Thank you,” Madison said once more, brimming with gratitude. Looking at Yvana’s smiling face, she couldn’t help thinking that everything would somehow be okay.
“See you later!” Yvana called. Madison nodded as Yvana took off around the circle. She walked up the front porch steps, a whole story’s worth, to accommodate the stilts. Most homes on the island included two livable stories, but stood three stories high. Flooding was common on the island, especially during hurricane season. She marched up to the front door, framed by full-length glass windows, her first objective being to put away the groceries she’d brought in a cooler from Fort Myers. Meantime, her stomach rumbled. If it wasn’t nauseated, it was hungry. Decide already, she thought. She didn’t know how much more of this yo-yo effect she could take. This was going to be a long nine months.
COLLIN SAT ON the ferry beneath the blistering afternoon sun and just wanted to be there already. He’d driven to the ferry station, parked and then taken an old passenger van down to the shore, where he’d boarded a small pontoon-style boat with about ten other tourists headed to North Captiva. He was currently sitting between a little boy kneeling on the seat and facing the water, hands on the edge of the boat as if he might fly off any second, and a teenager whose eyes had never left her phone. It was the only seat left, and he was lucky to have it, but now he simply wished the ferry ride to be over. He needed to see Madison.
Collin knew the baby was his. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew it. The second Matt had said Madison was pregnant, he’d felt that it was true. Sure, he could be wrong. Hell, Madison might not even be pregnant, but he trusted his instincts. Collin’s mother had been extremely superstitious; she’d claimed ESP—or what she called really good hunches—ran in their family. Collin had never put much stock in it. He didn’t believe in hocus-pocus, but he did believe in good instincts. That was exactly how he could tell a witness on the stand was lying—or about to lie. He’d become notorious for trapping shaky witnesses, dominating the cross-examination. Maybe that was the family hunch at work.
All he knew was that Madison was doggedly refusing to answer his calls. He’d left her a dozen messages, had texted, emailed—basically, he’d done everything but try to send her a telegraph. She was avoiding him, and he was going to find out why.
Collin glanced at a couple on the other end of the boat beneath the shade of the awning. The woman had a baby strapped to her in a sling, and her husband was making faces at the little one. He wondered how old the infant was—he or she was so tiny. He realized, with a start, that he’d only ever held his niece, but that was long after she was six months old and big enough to hold her head up—not like this fragile newborn across the way. He had no idea how to hold a baby that small. His niece, Sari, was six, loved knock-knock jokes and was easy to entertain. He’d missed the first half year of her life because his sister and her husband had been in the Philippines for work when she was born. Now, they were stateside again, and he’d spent the last four Thanksgivings at their house.
He reached into his pocket and felt for the small black velvet box there. He had a brand new one-carat princess-cut solitaire set in platinum inside. It probably wouldn’t fit Madison’s finger, but the salesclerk had assured him it could be sized. Collin knew the power of a big gesture, and he had one planned—although, the roses he’d bought at the grocery store stop-off before he’d reached the ferry were looking a little wilted in the heat. Not unlike me, he thought. He wore shorts and a polo, but he wished he had his swim trunks on so he could just jump into the bay and swim for it. The Florida sun was brutal today. It had beaten down on him mercilessly since he’d gotten one of the only seats in the sun. He swiped at his brow.
He’d been running through