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Twyla spun around and walked past her sister. “Excuse me. I need to be alone.”
Josie didn’t follow, and for that Twyla was thankful. She took the back stairway and used the room off the hall where all the supplies were held to make her way outside. Barely thinking and too numb to feel, she made her way to the dock, and then, without a second thought, she kicked off her shoes and made a swan dive into the lake.
* * *
It had taken Forrest all of a minute to realize what a fool he’d been. How he’d twisted and distorted everything Twyla had said. Was he some sort of martyr? Or was he trying to follow in his mother’s footsteps, loving someone for years and years, and never doing a solid, tangible thing about it?
He spun around and dashed back down the steps. His office was empty. Out the window, he saw her car leave the parking lot.
Getting his roadster out of the garage was yet another fiasco. Three ladies from Josie’s society had to be found so their automobiles could be moved, and then to top it off, he had to wait for a train to pass at the Bald Eagle crossing.
At least all that gave him time to really regret his actions. As if he needed that.
Sundays were quiet at the resort. Walking through the front door was like entering a tomb, it was so still and silent. He headed for the stairway, but paused when he noticed someone on the deck outside of the ballroom doors.
It turned out to be Josie.
“Where’s Twyla?”
Josie gave him a silent and rather frosty stare before she pointed toward the lake. Forrest scanned the area but couldn’t see anything or anyone.
Pointing again, this time Josie spoke. “The island. She just walked ashore. Swam all the way there.”
Forrest cursed.
“You can say that again,” Josie said. “What did you say to her? That you didn’t like the Babe Ruth idea? She’s been working on it night and day. She did it all for you. So the Plantation would be a success again and you wouldn’t leave.”
Forrest held up both hands. “I know. I think it’s a great idea.” His mind caught then. “Leave?”
“Yes. Leave. You broke her heart when you left years ago.”
He cursed again. “I’m borrowing a boat.”
Josie grabbed his arm. “Wait. Just wait. Give me five minutes.” She held on even tighter when he took a step. “Five minutes isn’t going to matter. Twyla has to catch her breath, and you need to calm down. Figure out what you’re going to say to her.”
Josie had always been the wisest sister. “Five minutes for what?” he asked.
“You’ll see, and you’ll like it,” Josie said. “I promise.”
“Five minutes,” Forrest said, his eyes on the island. “No more.”
As Josie suggested, he used the five minutes to calm down, and to figure out what he wanted to say. If Twyla wanted him to be rich again, that was what he’d do. He’d work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Forrest slapped the balcony railing. “You’re an idiot,” he growled, seething.
“Maybe just a man in love,” Josie said, walking through the doors. “Here, this is your surprise.”
He took the handle she held out. “It looks like a picnic basket.”
“It is,” Josie said. “What better place to have a picnic than on a deserted island?”
Twyla had always loved the deserted-island idea. On impulse, he kissed Josie’s cheek. “Thanks, you’re the best.”
“No, I just figured I owed you one for flying Scooter to Duluth to get me out of the hoosegow.”
He hadn’t given that a thought for several days. “How’d that turn out for you?” he asked.
“I’ll let you know, when I know,” she said. “Go. Take the boat out of the first boathouse, it has a motor.”
He gave her a thumbs-up as he ran down the steps, and in no time, had the boat skimming across the water.
It wasn’t as if he could camouflage his arrival, so Twyla definitely saw him. When she didn’t move, just sat with her knees tucked beneath her chin, Forrest experienced a moment of panic. What if she’d cramped up again? That was a long swim.
He shot the boat far up onto the sand before jumping out. Her gaze, though solemn, let him know she hadn’t cramped up, at least not in her muscles. He had probably put a hard cramp in her heart, though, if it felt anything like his.
He left the picnic basket in the boat and approached slowly, as one would if they came upon something they didn’t want to frighten away. Sitting down beside her, he remained silent, thinking about the Twyla he’d known and loved what seemed like a million years ago. She’d matured, grown into a beautiful, vibrant woman, but deep down, she was still the same girl he’d fallen in love with.
