Caribbean Paradise, Miracle Family Read online

  As soon as she and Maisie had settled into their beach house, Willow knew she’d made the right decision. Their days were full of light and laughter, and Maisie was learning more about the world around her growing up on a Caribbean island than she possibly could have by spending her days in a North London day care.

  She might not have the large family she’d always dreamed of, but she had Maisie, and that was enough. And on an island like St. Victoria, it was almost impossible not to know everyone. In many ways, her neighbors were like a family unit. Mrs. Jean, her nosy but well-meaning next-door neighbor, was always happy to watch Maisie along with her own grandchildren, and the island provided a sense of community Willow had never known anywhere else. At work, Willow’s colleagues never failed to let her know that she was indispensable. She felt so close to her work friends that they seemed like a kind of family, too.

  As for love... There were many different kinds of love, Willow thought. She certainly felt loved by the small circle of people in her life. But when it came to romantic love...well, she’d tried that, and it hadn’t worked out very well. Willow still felt a pang in her chest whenever she remembered Jamie’s words: I thought you’d break up with me if you knew the truth.

  How could she ever tell if someone was just saying what they thought she wanted to hear, the way Jamie had? There was no way to know for sure. The only guaranteed way to protect herself was to decide that she was done with relationships, once and for all.

  Willow had accepted that romance wasn’t going to be part of her life. But not everyone on the island seemed as willing to accept that Willow had sworn off relationships.

  Case in point: her neighbor, Mrs. Jean, was gathering rosemary from her small porch-side herb garden. Mrs. Jean seemed to feel it was her mission in life to see Willow settled in a relationship, and had a habit of willfully ignoring Willow’s hints that this wasn’t going to happen.

  “Good morning,” Mrs. Jean called as Willow approached. “I noticed that you and Maisie slept in a little.”

  Willow smiled. Maisie was a notoriously early riser. “Sleeping in” meant up by eight a.m. for the two of them. “Maisie was up a little later than usual last night, so we both needed some extra rest this morning.”

  Mrs. Jean’s eyes twinkled. “Oh. I thought maybe you had a hot date and were sleeping in afterward.”

  “If your definition of ‘hot date’ is playing four games of Candyland in a row and then trying to wrestle an overtired three-year-old into the bathtub, then I’m guilty as charged.”

  Mrs. Jean snorted. “You spend all your time working and looking after Maisie. You need to take a little time for yourself once in a while.”

  “Ooh, is this an offer to babysit?”

  “You know that Maisie’s welcome over anytime. Why don’t I watch her this Friday night and give you a break?”

  “That would be great. I could really use a chance to catch up on some paperwork at the clinic.”

  Mrs. Jean gave her a pained expression. “I’m not offering to watch Maisie so you can do some paperwork. I want you to go out and have some fun. Go down to Williamtown and meet some young men. That’s what I would be doing if I were your age.”

  Willow had her doubts about that. Mrs. Jean had eight children of her own, and numerous grandchildren. Even if she didn’t know about the heartbreak Willow had faced, she should at least be able to understand that Willow didn’t have time for dating between her full-time job and taking care of Maisie.

  “Mrs. Jean, even if I had time in my life to date, you know as well as I do that there aren’t too many single people to choose from on St. Victoria. I can’t imagine how I’d meet someone new on an island this small.”

  At this, Mrs. Jean’s eyes gleamed, and Willow realized too late that rather than ending the conversation, she’d given Mrs. Jean an opening.

  “What about one of those nice doctors you work with?”

  “Absolutely not. I could never date one of my colleagues. My job is important to me, and relationships make everything too complicated.”

  “Then what about one of those celebrities who are always coming to your clinic? Didn’t that big Hollywood action star just have his gallbladder removed? You must have at least tried to get his number.”

  Willow couldn’t help laughing. “If I don’t want to complicate my job by dating a colleague, then I definitely don’t want to complicate things by dating a patient. It’d certainly cost me my job.”

  “Who needs a job if you can snag yourself a movie star or an oil sheikh?”

  “Mrs. Jean!”

  The older woman rolled her eyes. “All right, I get it. You have principles, or some such nonsense. No dating patients. We’ll just have to think of someone else for you.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Jean, but even if I did plan to date again, I’m afraid it would be a hopeless case. Everyone on the island is either already taken or someone I work with. Or they’re a neighbor or a friend.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. What about that tall drink of water coming up the beach?”

  Willow turned in surprise. Newcomers hardly ever came by the secluded stretch of beach she lived on. Yet less than twenty feet away, a tall man with light brown hair was picking his way over the sand. His crisp white shirt and tie were decidedly out of place in the Caribbean sunshine, and she could tell from his pale skin that he was unaccustomed to the sun. He was barefoot, with the ends of his trousers rolled up around his shins, and he carried his shoes and suit coat in one hand, and a briefcase in the other.

  As the man approached, Willow noticed that his features were not altogether unattractive. His brown hair grazed his forehead in a way that made Willow want to sweep it from his eyes, which were a pleasing hazel. His frame was thin, but his gait suggested that he was used to carrying himself with the stance of a more muscular man. Willow found herself wondering if he were recovering from a long illness. Or perhaps he was simply unused to walking on hot sand—his pale skin suggested he didn’t spend much time on the beach.

  When he looked up at Willow, he smiled in greeting, and it was his smile that sent a jolt through Willow that she wasn’t expecting. There was something about his mouth that caught her attention, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. Perhaps it was the shape of his jaw—or maybe the way his chin curved—that made him seem extremely...kissable.

  “Not bad, not bad,” muttered Mrs. Jean.

  The sound of Mrs. Jean’s voice brought Willow back to reality, and she chided herself for having absurd thoughts about a complete stranger. As the man bent to speak to Maisie, her maternal instinct kicked in.

  “Maisie,” she called. “You know better than to talk to strangers.”

  She tried to make her voice sound stern, but she was terrible at being stern with Maisie. And strangers were such a rarity on this part of the island that her voice came out with more curiosity than sternness.

  Now that she was at close range, Willow could see that the man looked more out of place than ever. Despite his pallor, she couldn’t help noticing again that his hazel eyes were a striking complement to his sandy brown hair.

  She wondered if he was a lost tourist, looking for directions to Williamtown. But in his stiff white shirt, he looked more like a solicitor than a tourist.

  “Sorry to intrude,” he said as she approached. “I was just complimenting this little one on such a fine sandcastle.”

  Willow recognized the clipped cadence of a North London accent, and things began to fall into place. Her first guess—that the man might be a solicitor—might be correct, after all. The trust that Gran had left for Maisie wasn’t large, but it had been enough to ensure that Maisie would have a little bit of money to rely on if anything should ever happen to Willow. Back in London, a solicitor from the firm would check on Maisie once a year to ensure her well-being. Gran had felt that this was only practical,
given that Willow and Maisie were alone in the world. She’d wanted to be sure that Maisie would always be supported, no matter what. After moving to the Caribbean, Willow had assumed the firm would simply do these check-ins through video conference calls, rather than sending someone all the way out to the islands. But then, Gran had been a formidable woman. She’d probably threatened to haunt the firm from beyond the grave if they didn’t do their due diligence where Maisie was concerned—and no one who’d ever met Gran would deny that she was capable of it.

  “You must be from Camden,” Willow said, naming the North London borough where her grandmother’s firm was based.

  He seemed surprised, but replied, “I am indeed from Camden. Theo Moore. I’m looking for Willow Thompson.”

  “Well, here we are. I’m Willow, and this is my daughter, Maisie.”

  For just a moment, Willow could have sworn the man was at a loss for words. She wondered if he was somewhat new at his job. Or perhaps he was simply tired from a long journey. But then he swallowed hard and seemed to recover. “Maisie,” he said quietly. “You chose a beautiful name for her.”

  Willow couldn’t help smiling. She loved saying Maisie’s name. “We both think it suits very well, don’t we, Maisie?” she said as the little girl gave a firm nod.

  Theo paused for a moment, as though trying to recover himself. Willow realized that he must be exhausted.

  “Did you come straight from the airport?” she asked.

  “I did indeed. I’m terribly sorry to intrude in this way. I should have found some way to notify you that I was coming, but I only knew that you lived somewhere on St. Victoria. It did take a bit of detective work to track you down.”

  “I’m surprised to hear that. I thought I’d updated my new address with the firm when we moved.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “The...firm, I suppose...had your old London address. I learned from your former neighbors that you’d moved.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Willow could see Mrs. Jean approaching. “Why don’t you come inside for some lemonade?” she said quickly. “Camden’s a long way away, and I’m sure you’re tired from your journey.”

  Again, he looked surprised, but said, “I’d love that. There’s much for us to discuss, and it’s probably best that we go over it all inside.”

  Willow couldn’t imagine what there would be to discuss, as Maisie’s yearly check-in visits were usually quite brief. She supposed that since this Theo Moore had traveled all the way from London, the visit would be longer than usual in order to justify the expense.

  To her surprise, Maisie slipped her hand into Theo’s as they walked toward the house. Theo didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he appeared to be quite charmed.

  Willow felt her heart do a flip-flop in her chest. Settle down, she told herself. She’d known the man for all of forty seconds, and yet here she was, ogling him like a teenager at a school dance. She forced herself to tear her eyes away from him and turn toward the house, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her staring at him.

  As they passed Mrs. Jean, she gave Willow a pointed look that Willow interpreted as Don’t screw this up. Willow shot back a look that she hoped Mrs. Jean interpreted as Quit making such a big deal out of everything. The older woman snorted and sashayed back to her house.

  Willow, Theo and Maisie stepped through the back door of Willow’s beach house and into the kitchen, and Willow pulled a pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator.

  “I can help pour,” Maisie said.

  “The pitcher’s too heavy, love. But you can take three big glasses from the cupboard.” She glanced at Theo. “Maisie’s at the age where she loves to help.”

  “I can see that,” he replied as Maisie strained to reach the plastic glasses from a high cupboard. “I like to help, too. May I lift you up, Maisie?” He glanced toward Willow, who nodded her permission.

  Maisie nodded, too, and Theo lifted her just high enough so that the little girl could take three glasses from the cupboard and set them on the kitchen counter.

  “She must like you,” said Willow. “Normally she’s very big on doing things all by herself.”

  “I’m told I make a great first impression,” he said, and Willow felt her knees weaken a bit as he smiled again.

  She pulled a chair from the kitchen table to steady herself. “Why don’t we sit down? I’m sure you’d welcome the rest after coming such a long way.”

  “Thank you.” He sat beside her at the table and sipped his lemonade. “This is very kind of you. I haven’t had anything to drink since the flight.”

  “It’s no trouble at all. We Londoners have to look out for one another.”

  He waved at the beach outside the kitchen window. “This is a far cry from London.”

  “Yes, that was the idea.”

  “It’s an interesting choice, to raise a child so far away from home.”

  She stiffened. It seemed an awfully forward thing for a solicitor to say. Strikingly attractive or not, this man had no right to judge her decision of where to raise Maisie, even if he was involved in managing Gran’s trust. Willow was the sole person responsible for Maisie’s care, and although she often wished she had more help, one of the benefits of being a single mum was that Willow didn’t have to put up with anyone’s judgment of her parenting. “St. Victoria is our home now,” she replied. “It may be unconventional, but I believe the experiences Maisie has here are far more educational than anything she could get out of an overpriced day care in the city.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” he said. “I simply meant that you do seem to be so far from family, here in the Caribbean.”

  “Family?” she said, looking at him quizzically. “What are you talking about? I thought the firm that managed Gran’s trust knew perfectly well that Maisie and I haven’t any other family.”

  Now it was his turn to look confused. “Trust?” he said. “What trust?”

  “Gran’s trust... Vera Brown’s trust, that she had set up for Maisie before she died. Isn’t that what you’re here to discuss? Aren’t you a solicitor from the firm? A moment ago, when I mentioned the firm, you said they had my old London address.”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t entirely sure what you meant by ‘the firm.’ I thought you might be referring to the fertility clinic. The one you went to...to have Maisie.”

  Willow’s stomach went cold.

  “I’ve been searching for you for months,” he said. “The clinic gave me your last known address, but it’s been a few years, and it seems you moved a few times. I eventually learned that you lived on St. Victoria, and once I arrived, some helpful locals pointed me to the right beach. They said if I just started walking, I’d run into you eventually.”

  She already knew the answer, but she forced the question out, anyway, in a dry whisper. “Why have you been searching for me for months?”

  “Because I needed to meet my daughter.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

  “Yes. I’m Maisie’s father.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  WILLOW SAT AT her kitchen table, head spinning, as she tried to absorb Theo’s words. She couldn’t fit them in her mind in a way that made sense. Maisie didn’t have a father. Maisie had Willow, the way Willow had had Gran when she was growing up. Their family was small, but special. And it did not include a father.

  Even though she was sitting, she clutched the edges of the kitchen table to steady herself.

  “I’m sure this is a lot to take in,” said Theo. “I did ask the clinic to let you know that I was trying to get in touch, but all of the contact information they had for you was out of date. I suppose that’s not surprising. It has been several years, after all.”

  Maternal instinct overrode Willow’s shock, and she stood up and pulled back Maisie’s chair. “Run along and play in your room
, love. Mr. Moore and I need to talk.”

  “Can I bring my lemonade?”

  “Yes, but hold the glass with both hands so you don’t spill.” Maisie took her glass from the table with two sturdy hands, her brow furrowed in concentration as she carried it to her room.

  Theo gave Willow a pained expression. “You don’t want her to see me.”

  Willow was surprised to feel a twinge of sympathy for this stranger in her kitchen. But she barely knew this man. Even if he were Maisie’s father, she had no intention of letting him near Maisie until she knew a lot more about him. “It’s nothing personal, Mr. Moore. It’s just that I don’t know anything about you, or why you’re here.”

  “Please, call me Theo. I know that me showing up here must come as a shock. But I can explain everything—why I’ve showed up here so suddenly, and why I’ve stayed away for so long. Just hear me out, and afterward, if you want me to leave, I’ll go. I’m just asking for a chance.”

  He’d kept his voice fairly steady, but as a nurse, Willow was used to listening to people in pain. She hadn’t missed the note of anguish in his voice, and it touched her heart. She didn’t know what had brought this man here, but she could see that, to him, it was a matter of desperate importance.

  But she couldn’t imagine what would be so important that he had to be here now, in person, when he’d never bothered to contact her before. Unless... Her heart rose in her throat. The clinic had told her that they’d used sperm from a donor who’d had a history of cancer, but they’d assured her it was nonhereditary. But what if there was some other, newly discovered health problem that Theo had come to warn her about? Something that could affect Maisie? She told herself not to panic. Whatever Theo was so desperate to speak about with her might be important, but there was no reason to assume the worst. Not yet, anyway.