Kauai to Nanilani. Or that she couldn’t really remember much about Nicholas yet. She had the sense that there was something important, something urgent, that she still needed to recall, but it eluded her as surely as her name had eluded her for more than a day.
Oh, well. She finished her breakfast and gathered the dishes to carry inside so Leilani wouldn’t have to make an extra trip out to get them. She’d just have to trust that it would come back, as everything else seemed to have.
And hope it was nothing terrible she was forgetting.
Three
S ydney called her mother, who confessed she’d been getting worried. It wasn’t like Sydney to go so long without calling, and she hadn’t answered the phone in her hotel room.
After reassuring her mother, she spoke briefly to Nick. His grandfather had taken her son out on his tractor, and he was full of excited chatter about the big event. When she told him she’d probably be away a few more days, he didn’t even protest. And although she sort of wished he missed her a little more, she knew that his easy acceptance was a good sign of a well-adjusted child. Given the nightmares he’d had off and on over the years—a recurrent dream in which someone was trying to steal him from her—she was particularly thankful.
Afterward, feeling ridiculously fatigued, she returned to the lovely room Leilani had put her in and took a nap.
She woke before noon, stretching and wincing when she began to move. Her shoulders, she’d noticed, were stiff and sore, presumably from something to do with the boat she’d been in or from swimming to shore. The ugly knot on her right temple was sore, too, as she’d discovered the hard way when she’d been washing her hair in the shower earlier.
As she rose from the bed, Leilani knocked quietly on the partially open door. “How you feelin’ now, little miss?”
Sydney smiled. “Much better, thank you. I feel silly sleeping in the middle of the day. Usually it’s my son who nods off.”
“You have a son?”
At Sydney’s nod, Leilani said, “How old?”
“He’s five and a half.”
The housekeeper’s eyes widened. “The same age as Mr. Danny’s little boy.”
“Danny has a son, too? He hasn’t mentioned him to me.” She was too surprised to resist the urge to gossip, though she knew it was rude.
Leilani’s expressive face was suddenly so sad that Sydney was alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Danny’s son kidnapped four years ago. Never been found.”
“Dear heaven.” Knees weak, Sydney reached for the edge of the mattress as she sank back down. “How old?”
“He was a year old when he was taken. He’d be five now, same as your little boy.”
A shiver ran down Sydney’s spine, making her shudder. “How awful.”
“It is.” Leilani shook her head sadly, then cleared her throat. “I didn’t come up here to make you sad. I came to tell you lunch will be ready in about half an hour.”
After Leilani had left the room, Sydney sat for a long moment on the edge of the bed. No wonder Danny had gotten quiet this morning. She had inadvertently reminded him of his pain, she was sure.
She couldn’t even imagine what she’d do if something happened to Nick. His big blue eyes, the silky feel of his flyaway dark curls beneath her hand, the warmth of his small body snuggled against her when they read their nightly story… She could practically feel him in her arms right now and her throat grew tight. She missed him so much!
She wondered if his father— His father? A panicked sensation caught at her throat and tensed her muscles. She couldn’t remember his father! Something was knocking at the closed doors of her consciousness, taunting her, but she simply couldn’t bring it into focus. But it had something to do with her son, she was sure.
Why couldn’t she remember his father? Her clasped hands clenched so tightly her knuckles went white. It wasn’t just the man she couldn’t recall. There was absolutely nothing in her memory about Nick’s birth. Or about the husband she must have had at the time. Was it possible she’d borne a child out of wedlock? She might have a head injury but she was pretty sure her moral values hadn’t changed that much. Her instinctive recoil at the thought of giving a child the stigma of illegitimacy told her that it was highly unlikely she’d done so.
Thinking back over her conversation with her mother, she reflected that her mother had said nothing about her child’s father. Was it possible there wasn’t one in the picture? If that were true, where had he gone and why was she raising a child alone? Had he died? Surely she’d know it if he were dead.
She waited for some feeling, some sense of truth or falsehood to strike, but finally she had to admit that she had no idea, none at all, what the story of her son’s father might be.
Darn it all! She’d had a few short moments of euphoria when she’d remembered her name and Nick and her family. She simply hadn’t taken a complete mental inventory to see what else she might have lost that hadn’t returned. She was so frustrated she could feel tears rising, and the weakness only made her angry, which made her cry even more.
Then she glanced at the clock and squeaked in alarm. Lunch was going to be served in a few moments. She didn’t want to insult Leilani or her host by appearing rude or indifferent to their exceptional goodwill. Springing to her feet, she rushed into the adjoining bathroom and splashed cold water over her face. Quickly she ran a brush through her shoulder-length brown hair, then headed for the terrace where Leilani had served breakfast.
Sydney rushed through the French doors onto the lanai breathlessly, saying “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Danny turned from the edge of the flagstones, where he’d been standing studying the ocean. “Lunch hasn’t been served yet.”
Sydney made a nervous gesture, then caught herself and clasped her hands before her. The small movement made him wonder what she was so nervous about. “What have you been doing this morning?” he asked.
She smiled at that, a wry expression that made her lovely blue eyes twinkle. “I was busy napping. Breakfast wore me out.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“I think I must have been swimming before I hit the rock.” She indicated her temple, where a striking blue-and-purple bruise had formed. “My shoulders are sore and my arms feel like two bags of concrete.”
“Your boat hasn’t washed up,” he said. “Are you a strong swimmer?”
“I thought I was,” she said. “I grew up swimming in a river with some pretty strong currents. But the current of Kauai’s beaches was a shock the first day I got here.”
He nodded. “There are a few places where it’s protected and safe to swim. But there also are a lot of beaches that are too dangerous for swimmers. You should check at your hotel before going in the water.”
Sydney smiled again. “Too late.” Then the smile faded. “Although I might have asked. I don’t
