Chapter 10

Rachel awoke with a start, her heart racing and body drenched in sweat. "No estoy... no estoy..." she murmured incoherently as she struggled to sit up. There was no sand beneath her feet, no pummeling waves, only clammy bed sheets entwining her limbs. Finally freeing her hands, she rubbed her eyes and brushed the hair away from her face, letting out a relieved sigh as she did so. The all-pervading sense of horror retreating as her conscious mind drew more fully awake.

She shuddered. So real ... it seemed so real. And yet ... glancing around, she could see that it was not. The room was bathed in pale moonlight, filtering in through the bamboo slats of the window blinds. The antique armoire stood sentinel in the shadows to her right, while the incredibly plush couch still kept its vigil along the wall opposite the end of the bed. And the luminous display of the alarm clock on the nightstand let her know it was 4:23 AM.

Weary now that the adrenaline rush was fading, she scooted back in the king sized bed so she could recline against the wicker headboard. A moan and whimper, however, alerted her to the fact that she was not alone. Initially startled, she took in the slight, prone form buried beneath the sheets to her left and smiled. The little stinker – who had her own room now – had snuck back in again, not that she minded. Oh, no, not a bit. She lightly caressed the child's cheek then lovingly and repeatedly ran her fingers through the little stowaway's hair.

With her breathing finally under control and her pulse rate close to normal, Rachel let her mind drift back to the nightmare. Most of the details had faded in the first few moments of waking – leaving only fragments – but the ones that remained only confused her. Fear ... she felt such intense fear ... terror, really ... but not for herself. Who then? There had been water ... the ocean, maybe? It wasn't Hailey. Terrance, maybe? She wasn't sure. Probably. But why?

A distinct clatter from downstairs, most likely the kitchen, shook her from her deep sense of foreboding. With a gentle kiss on the cheek of her corazoncita, Rachel arose to investigate, wrapping herself in an old and much beloved terry cloth bathrobe. Soft footfalls down the stairs brought her to the kitchen door, where she was able to spot the expected culprit – Terrance's father.

Nowhere near his son's height – he was only an inch or so above her own 5'10" – Henry was in pretty good shape for being in his mid-sixties, with just a little bit of a belly and thinning salt-n-pepper hair on the top. And at the moment, with an apron on over shorts and t-shirt, he appeared to be hard at work preparing something in the kitchen. An apologetic look clouded his face when he spotted her lurking in the doorway.

Rachel's eyes narrowed and her hands went to her hips. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

He shrugged and sprinkled some flour on the counter. "Depends on what you think I'm doing," he shot back with a knowing smile.

"I think you're making breakfast."

"Then yes," the older man admitted with a grin as he began kneading a rather large lump of dough, "I'm doing exactly what you were thinking I'm doing."

"Henry, you're on..."

" ... vacation, I know. But my body thinks it's like 9:30 in the morning and I can't sleep." He patted a spot on the counter near him. "Come here."

The expression on her face must have been a bit comical because he laughed. "No, seriously," he said as he sprinkled out some more flour in the second spot and set about half of his dough there, obviously for her. "Come here."

"Henry, you're not supposed to be working," she protested as she crossed the floor. "You're my guests here and..."

Her eyes widened in surprise as he placed his flour covered fingers to her lips. "Shush," he told in a no nonsense tone and then pointed to the lump in front of her. "Get kneading."

With a smirk, he turned back to his mass of dough, leaving her sputtering a bit from the flour dust. More curious than anything, however, Rachel did as he said.

"So, what are we making?"

Rachel was finally sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island as Henry passed her a cup of his freshly brewed coffee. The aroma was fantastic.

"That," he said, after taking a sip from his own cup and nodding toward the nearby kneaded dough now resting in bowls under damp towels, "will be several loaves of Hawaiian sweet bread."

"And that?" she asked, pointing to the stack of ingredients setting on the far counter.

"That will be a light and fluffy egg, cheese, and veggie casserole."

"Really?"

He nodded. "And to top it all off, there's fruit for a salad in the fridge."

"Why?"

It was apparent from his expression he understood what she was asking. Leaning forward, with his elbows on the counter, he took a long, slow draw of coffee from his cup. He closed his eyes momentarily, seemingly savoring the taste, before he opened them again and fixed them on his kitchen companion.

"What were you thinking about when you were kneading the dough?"

Rachel thought for a moment, before getting the point. She smiled. "Not much of anything, really."

"Exactly."

"How very Zen of you," she observed with amusement.

Henry laughed. "No, not nearly so esoteric, believe me, just practical. Gives me something to do other than lay there and worry." He glanced over at the digital display on the microwave and then peeked under the damp cloths. "And, besides, you were looking pretty stressed when you came down."

"Is it time yet?"

He shook his head. "We'll give them another ten minutes or so," he replied. "But while we're waiting..." With that, Rance's dad opened the refrigerator and began emptying one of the lower drawers of fruit. In moments, he was instructing Rachel in proper cutting technique.

Still a novice at thirty-three when it came to the kitchen, the model absolutely loved getting the opportunity to learn one on one with a professional chef. She had tried taking a cooking class once, but that proved to be a disaster. Henry, thankfully, was far more patient with her than her previous teacher and actually explained everything he was doing and why. Plus, it definitely took her mind off of why she was even up so early to begin with.

In the meantime, they chatted back and forth about a host of topics, such as her modeling career and how she met Terrance and Hailey. It wasn't until they were braiding the dough into loaves, however, that she asked about something she'd wondered about every since that day on the boat.

"What was she like?"

Surprised, Rance's father paused momentarily, a flash of deep emotion crossing his face. "Melissa was one of the sweetest people I've ever met," he explained without looking up. "Stubborn ... but in a good way. It was cute, really. And fiercely protective of those she loved. She had a way of..." He went to say something else but stopped short suddenly, clearly overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," Rachel offered sympathetically as she watched the older man clear his throat several times and wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"No, no, that's okay," he waved off with more than a little embarrassment. "Oh, man, that one snuck up on me all of the sudden," he finally explained with a cough, followed by a large sigh.

The swish of fabric and the creak of the hall floor let them know they were no longer alone. Rachel glanced over at the door, only to see Melissa's mother, Janis, in a pink bathrobe, standing there smiling with tears in her eyes. Walking over to Henry, she gently rubbed his back and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Henry."

"Dang it, woman," he protested gruffly, "now you're really going to get me going."

They all, of course, got a good chuckle out of that.

With the fruit salad stored away in the fridge and both the bread and the casserole in the ovens, Rachel just sat and listened as the two of them shared stories about their respective children and granddaughter – some touching and many funny. They were just into one about a high school canoe trip, when Rachel's cell phone began to ring.

Seeing that it was Rance, she answered immediately.

"Good morning, sweetie! It's a bit early, though. Is everything okay?" Her brow furrowed, however, as she struggled to understand him.

"Whoa, slow down! ... No, I got that ... What? ... What about ice? ... Okay ... Okay ... What do you mean, surgery? ... You're in the ICU again? ... Rance, you're not making sense..."

Suddenly her eyes widened and she looked over at Henry and Janis in panic. Willing herself to calm down, she closed her eyes and took a couple deep breaths. Opening them again, she could see the concern on her companions' faces. Holding up a hand to forestall them, she turned her attention back to the phone.

"Rance ... Rance, Honey! ... Is there a nurse there with you? ... Okay ... Can I talk to her, please? ... I know ... I'll get there as soon as I can ... I promise."

She waited as he passed the phone to one of the nurses.

"Lani? ... How bad is it?... 108? ... So that's what the ice was for ... But it's lower now? ... Okay, but that's not much ... Still ... Right ... Seriously, the whole floor? ... Tell them all thank you for me ... Okay ... How soon? ... He is? ... Oh, Lord! ... Tell him I'm on my way ... and that I love him."

She choked up on the last few words but in a moment she was laughing as she wiped away moisture from her eyes.

"Please ... but not on the lips ... don't want him thinking he's got two girlfriends..." Rachel laughed again. "Thank you so much, Lani! ... I'll see you in a bit. Bye."

Placing the phone in her pocket, she stood up to leave. Looking over at Henry and Janis, she could barely get out what she needed to say. "Terrance has infection raging throughout his body. They've finally gotten his fever down to 105° and they're prepping him for surgery. Tagawa's already there." She paused before continuing, her voice filled with emotion. "He could lose the leg."