Left Turn at Paradise Page 31

  “Life, I guess.”

  “Life.” Emma glanced over her shoulder at the gravesite.

  Layla brushed a hand down Emma’s arm. “I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?”

  “I don’t know yet. It still seems so unreal.”

  A soft voice called out. “Layla...”

  Layla spun around and smiled as Mary Bertram approached with her arms outstretched. Layla sank into the older woman’s arms, blinking back more tears. In many ways Mrs. Bertram had been like a surrogate mother. Gran’s career had often meant long hours at the hospital, late night emergency surgeries, and weekends on call. Layla had always gone to stay at Emma’s. Callie had been there a lot, too, whenever her mother had one of her “episodes”. Later, it had only been Layla.

  Emma’s mother had plied them with cookies and milk, sewn Halloween costumes, helped with homework and science projects, and dispensed advice along with unconditional love. Layla had always felt safe at the Bertram’s, even if occasionally she’d been so jealous she could hardly stand it. Emma had a mother who loved her. A mother who was there. Emma's father always had time to snuggle, and he wasn’t too busy or proud to attend a girls’ tea party.

  Then Thomas Bertram had fallen in love with someone else, and Emma and her mother had moved away. For Layla it had been like losing a mother all over again.

  When Mary pulled back, her eyes were shining. “Oh, my lovely girl. How I’ve missed you.”

  Layla choked back a sob, resisting the urge to throw herself on Mary Bertram’s breast and tell her everything that had been going on over the past few months. Yell and scream and beg for advice.

  Except, Mrs. Bertram had a firestorm of her own to deal with. Layla didn’t want to place an extra burden on a woman already reeling from a terrible loss.

  Mrs. Bertram frowned. “You look troubled.”

  Layla chuckled. “You haven’t seen me in over a decade, but you can read my thoughts?”

  “I always knew you, Layla,” she said, her voice warm and sure.

  The odd pain gripped her again. Longing for a mother who truly did know her daughter’s pain. Who could take one look and see her child’s deepest fears and hopes. But Layla didn’t have Mary Bertram. She had Beth McCarthy, runaway teen mother. A woman who’d lived on the edge for half her life, drowning herself in men and partying. Who knew if they could ever develop a real relationship?

  But now was not the time to unload. “Don’t worry about me,” Layla said, hugging the older woman again. “I just wanted to come for Mr. Bertram, and for Emma. I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “It’s a blessing,” Mary said. She reached for her daughter’s hand and pulled Emma into the circle. “If there’s anything good to come out of this tragedy, perhaps it’s you and Emma finding each other again.”

  Layla smiled. “Maybe. Do you know how long you’ll be in town?”

  “I’m not sure,” Emma said.

  “What about your sisters?” Layla asked.

  Emma’s entire body stiffened, and her jaw clenched. Layla felt the vibration even across the couple of feet that separated them.

  “That’s complicated,” Emma said.

  Layla tried to ease the tension. “Well, I’m sure there was a plan for them in place. Your father would have seen to that.”

  “I suppose, but we didn’t—”

  Emma broke off.

  They hadn’t talked about anything substantial, Layla concluded. Emma stared at the ground, lost in thought, and probably regrets.

  Layla saw movement out of the corner of her eye. The dark-haired man she’d seen earlier with Imogene and Paige stood a few feet away. It was obvious he was waiting to talk to Emma. Emma noticed him too, and she frowned.

  “Who is that?” Layla asked.

  “My father’s law partner,” Emma said.

  The man took another step.

  “It looks like he’s waiting for you,” Layla said. “I should go.”

  She tried to leave, but Emma reached out and clutched Layla’s hand. “I feel like you’ll disappear for another ten years if I let you go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Layla promised. “I’ll see you soon.”

  The dark-haired brooder had drawn closer and now he cleared his throat.

  Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Looks like I’m being summoned.”

  Layla chuckled. Her friend might be petite, but she wasn’t going to let anyone intimidate her. She gave them both another hug and then made her way back to the car. Once inside, she collapsed into the driver’s seat, and for a moment couldn’t summon up the strength to start the engine. The effort of keeping herself together, the grief, the flood of memories, and the notion that she could find herself in the same situation as Emma, thrummed through her mind. Emma was adrift, cut off from her family, and now she must be looking back at a lifetime of missed opportunities.

  Hadn’t Noah told Layla that anger would only hurt her in the end? That bitterness would eat away at her soul and steal any chance of happiness? What had Emma’s resentment done, except keep her estranged from her family?

  Now, Layla couldn’t help but wonder if she wouldn’t wind up like her old friend if she didn’t make some changes.

  Barbara was so lost in her thoughts on the ride home that she was hardly aware of the car moving. Everyone else was silent as well, leaving her with nothing to concentrate on except her own unfinished business. The granddaughter she’d wounded so deeply.

  Even once Layla pulled into the driveway, nobody moved.

  Finally Grace turned in her seat. “I’m so blessed to have you two in my life.”

  Barbara and Layla sat up in surprise.

  Grace smiled. “When something this tragic happens, it makes you want to tell everyone in your life what they mean to you. You realize all your petty grievances mean nothing in the end. Something to think about, isn’t it?”

  Barbara watched her sister disappear into the house. Tell those around you how you feel. The notion sounded so simple, but telling the truth often brought so much pain. Especially when those truths were about one’s self.

  Barbara turned to her granddaughter. “Will you walk with me?”

  Layla nodded and they started strolling down the sidewalk.

  “Are you okay to walk?” Layla asked.

  “I’m getting stronger.” Barbara said, watching her feet shuffle along the sidewalk as she gathered her thoughts. “I miss you, though.”

  “I miss you, too,” Layla said, her eyes filling. “I just haven’t been able to figure out how to move forward or forget.”

  “I wish I could forget that I let my own insecurities ruin my relationship with your mother.”

  Layla squeezed her eyes shut, as if to block out the pain. “Gran, let’s not get into that again. What good does it do to keep rehashing the past?”

  Barbara stopped and faced Layla head on. “Because it’s the only way we can heal. We’re at this impasse because I kept the truth from you. Because I can barely face my own actions.”

  A black and white cat was sunning itself on a front porch. When the cat saw them, it jolted and then took off, slithering behind some bushes. Barbara knew it wasn’t so easy to hide. Besides, hiding had brought them all to this terrible impasse.

  “I didn’t tell you everything the other day,” she said.

  Layla snapped to attention. “How could there be more?”

  “It wasn’t simply the Chief of Staff position that made me send your mother away. It was my own feelings of inadequacy. As a mother and a woman.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Barbara sucked in a deep breath and uttered the words she’d never told anyone else. “Your mother was the only person who ever truly intimidated me.”

  Layla halted on the sidewalk. “What? Why?”

  “Elizabeth was so beautiful,” Barbara said, picturing that sweet baby in her mind. “From the moment she was born anyone could see it. When she was little, strangers would stop me in the street and ad
mire her. Then she went from a pretty child to an even more beautiful young woman. She never went through those awkward preteen years.”

  “You were intimidated because she was pretty?” Layla asked in confusion. “Why would that be so hard for you?”

  “Because she was like every girl who’d ever whispered about me behind their hands at school,” Gran said, training her eyes on the ground in front of them. “The kind who thought I was some sort of freak.”

  Layla reached out to grab Barbara’s hand. “Gran, you weren’t a freak.”

  “To those girls I was, and I was so jealous of them.”

  “Why would you be jealous of some stupid girls? You were so accomplished. Everyone respected you. You were special. A phenomenon.”

  “Maybe I wanted to be seen as more than a phenomenon,” she said. “Maybe I wanted to be seen as a woman, and be appreciated for something except my brains.”

  Layla’s eyes widened. “Weren’t you the one who always told me to value my mind and not my looks?”

  “Even smart girls want to be swept off their feet occasionally,” she said, unable to hide the wistfulness in her voice. Normally, Barbara would have scoffed at such softness, but now that she was finally voicing her deepest fears, she found it was easier to go on.

  “Were you?” Layla asked, as if she were trying to picture her grandmother as a young woman looking for love.

  Barbara shook her head. “No. I came close once. In college, I met a man. He was in pre-med with me. I thought I’d found someone who understood me, but when I did better than him in school, his pride couldn’t handle it.”

  “You know his leaving isn’t your fault,” Layla said. “I still run into men like that.”

  “Intellectually, I did, but my heart only knew I’d been rejected. When he started dating a sorority girl a few weeks later, I cried for days. I couldn’t help wondering if something was wrong with me, that no one seemed capable of loving me.”

  “But someone did love you,” Layla said. “Granddaddy.”

  Barbara looked down at their entwined fingers and sighed. A soft, lonely sound of longing that spoke of a deep ache. “Yes, Richard.”

  Layla stared as understanding began to dawn. “Gran… you and Granddaddy loved each other, right? Weren’t you happy?”

  Confession might be good for the soul, but a little discretion over certain matters wouldn’t hurt anyone. “Perhaps that’s a confession for another time. What matters now is that you understand that the tension between your mother and me was mostly my fault. At least, in the beginning.”

  “Because she was so beautiful?” Layla said, shaking her head as if to rid her mind of so many confusing thoughts.

  “It was more than physical beauty. She was so enticing. Elizabeth had such an easy way with men, something I certainly never possessed. Sometimes she filled me with such envy, I almost couldn’t stand it. It’s a terrible thing to be jealous of your own child,” Barbara said, the chasm breaking open as shame enveloped her. “It eats away at your soul, and makes you strike out. It turned me into someone I didn’t know or like, and it pushed me to do things that were unforgivable.”

  “Like sending mom away.”

  Barbara lowered her head. “By then our relationship was so broken, I feared we’d destroy each other. When I learned she was pregnant, I blamed myself. She’d started rebelling because I’d been so hard on her. I’d been trying to mold her into the person I wanted her to be, instead of letting her be who she was.”

  “Gran, I know you did your best,” Layla said. “And I’m sorry if you never felt truly loved.”

  Barbara cupped her granddaughter’s face, staring into the beloved eyes she knew as well as her own. “But I was loved. By you.”

  A frown gathered between her eyes. “Even though I was your penalty for what happened with mom?”

  “You weren’t my penalty,” Barbara insisted. “That’s the whole point. You were part of the master plan, and I’m so grateful I had you. You are the best of your mother and me, and it’s through you that we’re all going to heal again. Grace is right. It’s time we stopped beating ourselves up over the past, forgive each other, and embrace the gift we’ve been given. This is our chance to rebuild our family.”

  Something shifted behind Layla’s eyes. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

  “Baby, for what?” she asked.

  “For being so judgmental…for mom…for what I said. For everything.”

  Barbara smiled. “Honey, you don’t have to apologize for anything. You’ve been dealing with so much, and most of it is my fault.”

  “Didn’t you just say it’s time we stop assigning blame?” Layla said. “I know you’re right. I can’t stop wondering what Emma must be going through right now, and it’s made me face some hard truths about myself.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that I don’t want to be at a funeral someday, thinking about what I would give to make things right with my family,” Layla said. “I don’t want to stare into a grave, wondering if they knew I loved them.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  Layla brought her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “I need to make some changes, starting with my mother.”

  Barbara smiled as pride and fierce love flooded through her. Miraculously, all the shame and sadness disappeared. And she knew that, in time, everything was going to be fine.

  She raised her eyes toward the heavens. “Thank you,” she prayed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Layla sat in a shady corner at Caesar’s, a popular outdoor café on The Strip. She stared at the text message on her phone, her finger hovering over the send button.

  Ready to go to market. Let’s talk this week.

  Her heart pounded as she hesitated. Was she truly ready to cut all ties with her former life?

  She glanced up in time to see her mother turn the corner. Their gazes met across the restaurant. Then she looked back at her phone and pressed send. She placed her cell on the table before she could change her mind.

  “Go ahead and finish your text.” Beth said.

  “I did. I’ve decided to put my condo in Miami up for sale.”

  “That’s a big step,” Beth said as she sat down. “You don’t think you’ll ever want to go back?”

  “There’s nothing there for me anymore.”

  Beth’s brow arched, and she settled back as if waiting for an explanation. Before Layla could say anything else, the waitress appeared at the table and handed them menus.

  Layla waved the woman off. “We’ll have two Caesar salads and two unsweetened iced teas.”

  “Sure thing.” The waitress grabbed a pitcher from a nearby bar and poured their tea. Then she went back inside to place their order.

  ”What if I don’t want salad?” Beth asked, her voice sounding more curious than annoyed.

  “You need it,” Layla said. “Romaine lettuce has lots of vitamins, and do you really want a constant audience for this encounter? We’ll have a salad in a few minutes and then be left alone.”

  “You’re concerned that I’m not getting enough vitamins?” Beth asked, looking close to tears at the notion that Layla would care.

  “Of course I care. It’s why I called you.”

  “Why did you call? And why are you selling your condo?”

  “Because I have obligations here. Refurbishing The Paradise and getting a show off the ground could take a year or more.”

  “Surely someone else could handle that, if you really wanted to move back to Miami,” Beth said. “I’m sure there are more business opportunities for you there. You’ll never come close to making the kind of money you could earn in a big city.”

  “I’m not really interested in raking in the big bucks anymore.”

  A soft smile appeared on Beth’s face. “You’re saying you’ve found purpose for your life outside of your career?”

  Thinking back to their conversation in the car that day, Layla couldn’t help bu
t return the gesture. “I guess I have.”

  “I’m glad, but you shouldn’t feel like you have to stay,” Beth said. “The Paradise has survived several decades without you, and I’m sure it would soldier on if need be.”

  “There’s no way I can leave now, not with Gran’s health. I could never take off knowing she’d be left to deal with the stress of running the theatre. Aunt Grace tries to help, but she’s not much younger.”

  Beth picked up her knife and twirled the tip on the table. “I’m here now. I can look after them.”

  This time Layla’s brow winged upward. “What if you grow bored or restless or decide Shellwater Key isn’t for you?”

  Beth flinched and drew back. “I suppose I deserved that. I can only promise that I will never disappear again. I’m here for the long haul.”

  Guilt jabbed Layla in the gut, and she cursed her quick tongue. She’d vowed not to let her bitterness erupt anymore. “I’m sorry.”

  Beth waved the knife in the air. “Don’t worry. I haven’t really earned your trust, have I? Anyway, I still don’t understand why you feel compelled to stay. Is it Grayson? Are you still hoping he’ll come back? Have you heard anything from him?”

  Layla wasn’t prepared for the swift blow at the mention of Grayson’s name. “I’d rather not talk about him,” she said, focusing on the table. “Besides, that’s not why I’m staying.”

  “Then why?”

  “You don’t understand,” Layla said, her voice growing husky.

  “Try me.”

  “I have to see things through. I don’t quite know when it happened, but Shellwater Key and The Paradise have taken over my life. I want to see Greta returned to glory. I want to sit in the audience on opening night and watch everyone as they see our show. I want to know I had a hand in bringing her back to life. I need to do it because she did the same thing for me.”

  “You think The Paradise has brought you back to life?”

  “I know it sounds crazy,” Layla said, biting her lip. “But being around The Paradise and working to save it has changed me. I love that old place now.”