Island Of Second Chances. Cara Lockwood
Читать онлайн книгу.
her up. That wouldn’t do. This project was too important. He glanced at the small set of bronzed baby shoes that Timothy once wore that hung on a string above his worktable. Beneath them, he’d tacked up a photo of his boy as a baby, grinning a gummy grin from ear to ear.
He glanced out to the beach beyond. He could almost see his little boy running there, waddling into the water with his chubby, toddler hands outstretched for some shell. When he picked it up, he’d beam with triumph and call for his father’s approval.
With a sickening dread, Mark realized he couldn’t remember what his boy sounded like. His voice had been sweet and high, but now, in his memory, the voice had faded. The picture of his son stood mute in his brain, like some old-fashioned silent picture reel.
No. Couldn’t be. Mark squeezed his eyes shut. He would not let the memory of his boy fade. He worked harder to remember his sweet, high-pitched voice but couldn’t bring to mind the exact sound.
He stopped and pulled out his phone. He had a video of his boy there. He pulled it up and set the video to full-screen and saw his boy running through the sand in the wobbly video he’d taken on his phone.
“Daddy! Look!” Timothy cried as he pointed to a starfish that had washed up on the shore. It was a treasured find. “A star, Daddy! It’s a star!”
The sweet voice washed over Mark’s ears and he felt a brief peace before the sadness sank in. He’d never hear that voice in life again. He’d never get to hear what Timothy would’ve sounded like as he grew up, as his voice changed and matured. He put the cell phone back into his pocket, feeling the heavy weight of sadness cling to him once more. But he couldn’t let grief stop him. He needed to focus on that emotion and turn it into something that mattered.
He returned his attention to the wooden planks before him. That’s why he needed to restore this boat. That’s why he couldn’t stop working. Not until it was finished and not until it sailed in the warm, blue-green sea.
He cut the power on the saw to double-check the board he’d just cut. He focused again on the hull of the boat he would christen Timothy after the little boy who’d once been the light of his life. Before his life had been taken, a bright little candle blown out far too soon.
“Working hard, I see.”
Mark froze, recognizing the voice behind him that he’d know anywhere—his older brother, Edward. He felt anger, hot and thick, well up in his belly. Edward, the brother who betrayed him. Edward, his enemy.
Mark slowly put down the buzz saw. Then he flicked up his safety goggles and turned to face his brother. Just two years older, he carried the same dark eyes as Mark, the same lopsided smile, but that’s where the similarities ended. Mark was a man of his word. Edward, he knew, was a liar.
“What are you doing here, Edward?”
His brother shrugged one shoulder. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” If you cared about how I was doing, you would’ve never slept with my wife. Ex-wife now, technically. Wife then, though.
“Language, kid. What would Mom say?” Edward wore expensive loafers and designer sunglasses that caught the Caribbean sun, blinding Mark for a second.
“If she were still alive, she’d be too busy kicking your ass to care.”
Edward just shook his head. “For what?”
For screwing my wife. For stealing her away from me. For...being the worst brother on earth at the very time I needed you most.
“For stealing the family company, for starters.” Edward and Mark had grown the family boat-building business into an empire, until Edward had the board vote Mark out in a hostile takeover last year, six months after Timothy died.
“I told you to take some time off after...” He swallowed. “Timothy. You needed it, and you didn’t listen to me, and so, yes, for the company’s sake and yours, I forced you out.”
Mark nearly choked on a dark laugh. He loved how his brother always managed to twist everything around, make his underhanded dealings sound like the right thing to do. “Don’t pretend this is about the company or me. It’s about your greed. You’ve always been greedy. Ever since we were kids and you ate my Halloween candy while I slept. Some things never change.”
“You’re still on me about Halloween? I was eight. You were six. We were kids.”
Mark shrugged. “The story just seems relevant, considering you always wanted what I had.”
Edward exhaled. “Look, I know you’re pissed at me, but—”
“Pissed at you?” He took off his work gloves in jagged, angry movements and tossed them on his workbench. “I’m not pissed at you. I can’t stand to look at you. You screwed me out of my business and you screwed my wife.”
“She’s your ex-wife now.” Edward sounded stoic, even steely. Not even an inkling of regret. None. “And you know why she made that choice. After what you did to her.”
Mark felt a pang of guilt. He knew what he did, and he knew why he did it. I never meant her any harm, but something had to be done.
“You know why I did that. And deflecting this back to me is still not an apology. For God’s sake. She’s pregnant with your baby.”
Edward visibly flinched.
“Didn’t think I knew?” Mark challenged him. “Did you forget how small this island is? How people talk?”
“I...” Now Edward was on his heels. “I was going to tell you.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you were.” Mark ground his teeth together. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt hot and cold all over. Mark hated the anger that bubbled up inside him, that threatened to take over, that bleached the already bright sand at his feet a starker white. He wanted to punch his older brother in the face, craved to see the shock and pain flood his features. He wanted to yell until his voice gave out, but he also knew there’d be no point. Edward never listened.
Edward let out a long, weary-sounding sigh. Since when did he get to sound exasperated? He wasn’t the one betrayed by the only family he had left.
“I came with a peace offering,” Edward said, holding up a manila folder. “It’s a contract. You should come back to work with Tanner Boating.” He nodded at Mark’s husk of a boat in the sand. “This isn’t good for you. For your head or your bank account. Restoring that old hunk of junk is a waste of time.”
Just when Mark thought Edward couldn’t tick him off any more, somehow his brother found a way to do it. He felt the fury grow hot inside him.
This was the boat that belonged to their father, and it wasn’t much, but it was his. That’s why it made it all the more important to restore it. For Timothy. And how dare Edward ask him back, as if he’d ever in a million years work under his brother?
“Not interested.” Mark turned his back on his brother, signaling the conversation was over. It had to be over, before Mark really lost it and did punch his brother in the face. He might be friends with the St. Anthony’s police chief, but he doubted that even he could worm his way out of an assault charge.
“Mark, look, bud, come on. Come back to work for me. You can help Tanner Boating build the fastest boat on the island. We’re going to win the St. Anthony’s Race again this year. We’re going to break the island record.”
Mark clenched his fist. “No, you’re not. I’m going to win that race. And the prize money.” A hundred thousand dollars.
“You don’t have enough time to finish this, and you’re just one person. Come on, come join our team.”
“I’m never going to work for you,” Mark ground out between clenched teeth. Why did Edward never realize when he stood on thin ice? “I’m going to build this ship. I’m going to win that prize money and I’m going to