“Duarte and Antonio were here,” Eloisa answered. “Carlos was having treatments at the time.”
Her teacup rattled on the saucer. Lilah set it down carefully and busied her shaking hands by picking from the assortment of tiny round sandwiches—goat cheese and watercress. “The whole trip must have seemed strange to you, a child so young.”
“More than you know.” Eloisa smiled as Shannon held out a tray of fruit—she selected a chocolate strawberry with obvious anticipation. “My mother had remarried by then and had another baby.”
Her words sunk in. “How did your stepfather feel about the trip?”
“He never knew about the visit, or about any of the Medinas…until recently when the whole world learned too.”
Shannon settled back into her chair, tucking her bare feet under her, expensive shoes forgotten in the timeless ritual of girl talk. “The day that revelation exploded on the internet is definitely one of the most memorable moments of my life.”
The everyday sort of gab session wrapped around Lilah with a strange—alien?—feeling. She had so few people in her life to share moments like this. As the only daughter with two much older brothers, as a woman with a high-powered position, she didn’t have many female friends with whom she could kick off her shoes.
Lilah accepted a refill from Kate. “When our hospital staff first heard the news, the whole place went wild over the fact that one of our own surgeons had been leading a double life.”
She couldn’t imagine such an existence of secrecy and fear. She’d been so focused on Carlos’s injuries that she hadn’t considered how other aspects of his childhood had shaped him as well.
Eloisa waved a hand dismissively. “But my childhood, the whole exposé—” she winked at Kate, whose photos had first started that buzz “—it’s all water under the bridge now. I want to tell you about that visit when I was seven. It was amazing, or rather it seemed that way to me through my childish, idealistic eyes. We all walked along the beach and collected shells. He—” she paused, clearing her throat “—um, Enrique, told me this story about a little squirrel that could travel wherever she wanted by scampering along the telephone lines.”
Lilah reached to clasp the other woman’s hand. “What a beautiful memory.”
Would these two Medina grandchildren—Eloisa’s baby and Lilah’s child—have the privilege of hearing their grandfather Enrique tell them the same story?
Reconciling the image of a man who would tell such lovely tales with the notion of a father ignoring his child unsettled Lilah. Greatly. A man who could detach himself came into focus, bringing fears because Carlos had sliced her from his life just as easily.
Had he learned that skill at his father’s knee? Could she be in for another repeat in the future, regardless of how open he’d seemed in the Colorado kitchen?
The attorney inside her blared warnings to protect herself, protect her baby against a family with unlimited resources at their fingertips. People with this kind of power rarely surrendered anything. Once Carlos had the proof in hand about the baby, she didn’t doubt for a second that he would claim his child with a fierce determination.
Would he go so far as to try to gain custody of the baby if she didn’t marry him? And could she put aside a lifetime of reservations about relationships to agree to a marriage of convenience?
No matter the warm draw of the women around her, the hope of a secure life for her, for her baby—for Carlos—provided a frighteningly heavy allure.
Carlos guided the four-wheel drive over the two-lane paved road, Duarte beside him and Antonio in the back. Only a couple more minutes until they reached the island clinic—and their dying father. He thought he’d prepared himself for this day.
But he was wrong.
Of course he’d been mistaken about a lot of things lately, like assuming Lilah would jump at the chance to marry him. The way she’d thrown his proposal back in his face still grated. As much as he tried to play things calm and laid-back with offers of cheeseburgers and milk shakes, he couldn’t escape the sense that time was slipping away. That if he didn’t settle his life soon, there wouldn’t be another chance for him with her.
In the backseat, Antonio leaned forward, arms resting on the backs of his brothers’ seats. “Care to share, Carlos?”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he steered deeper into the jungle. “About what?”
“Really, brother.” Antonio flicked him on the temple. “You’re supposed to be the genius in our family. Who’s the lady friend?”
“Lilah and I work at the same hospital. She’s the administrator.”
“A lawyer?” Duarte loaded the final word with cynicism, his arm hooked out the open window.
Antonio snorted. “You’re the one engaged to a reporter.”
“Photojournalist,” Duarte corrected softly, possessively.
Protectively.
His fiancée had been the one to first break the Medina story to the press with a picture she’d accidentally nabbed. Ironically, that snapshot had brought her and Duarte together and now she handled all carefully controlled press releases about the family.
Their youngest brother chuckled. “Journalist or photojournalist. Tomato, tom-ah-to.”
Carlos whipped the car around a corner, toward a one-storey building, white stucco with a red tile roof. The clinic sported two wings, perched like a bird on the manicured lawn. One side held the offices for regular checkups, eye exams and dental visits. The other side was reserved for hospital beds, testing and surgeries. The clinic treated not only the Medinas, but also the staff needed to run a small island kingdom.
Everything was top-of-the-line, easy enough to finance with an unlimited bank balance. Enrique had insisted on the best for the facility where his son would spend most of his teenage years. Carlos knew every nook and cranny of the place.
“Ignore Antonio,” Duarte said, bracing a hand on the dash. “I’m happy for you, my brother.”
Downshifting as he cruised to a stop in front of the double sliding doors, Carlos glanced at his brothers quickly. “Hold off on the congratulations.” Better to be honest than risk them congratulating Lilah. “I still have to convince her.”
Carlos pocketed the keys and left the vehicle. Guards nodded a welcome without relaxing their stance. Electric doors slid open. A blast of cool, antiseptic air drifted out. The clinic was fully staffed with doctors and nurses, on hand to see to the health concerns of the small legion that ran Enrique’s island home. Most were also from San Rinaldo or relatives of the refugees.