Mediterranean Men & Marriage. Raye Morgan

Marco said firmly. “The other hand. Come on.”

      Eddie’s little face was pained. Slowly, almost undetectably, his fingers began to loosen their hold on the pants.

      “I’m going to promise you something,” Marco told him. “Shayna and I have to go on a trip around the island, but we’ll be back tonight.”

      His hand finally slid off the fabric and landed in Marco’s, looking small and vulnerable there. Marco turned his own hand and enveloped the little one so that they were shaking.

      “We’ll be back,” he said, looking earnestly into Eddie’s face.

      Alarm bells rang in his head the moment the words were out of his mouth. It was so easy to make promises to little kids. And so easy to break them. He knew that from his own childhood. How many times had he waited at the tall windows in his mother’s house, hoping and praying that his father would show up for his visitation day? And how often had his prayers been answered?

      No, if he made this promise to this boy, he had to keep it. No matter what.

      “We’ll be back,” he said firmly, “and I’ll bring you a red licorice whip. Okay?”

      Eddie’s face lit up and for a second, it almost looked as though he were going to say something. But the moment faded as quickly as it had begun, and there was no sound from the child. Still, he pumped hands with Marco. They had a deal.

      Shayna watched this whole scene, entranced. Not matter what, Marco was great with little kids. She smiled at the handshake gimmick, but the smile froze when he mentioned the licorice whip.

      Wait a minute. How had he remembered that Eddie was a fool for red licorice? He couldn’t have just plucked that out of the air…could he?

      Who knew? Maybe he had. But she kept thinking about the day, a few weeks ago, when they’d stopped in at the little general store for supplies, and Marco had casually picked up a package of red licorice for Eddie. His gift had been received with a rapture that had surprised and pleased him. Could he be starting to remember things? Could that reaction from Eddie have stayed with him when nothing else had? It didn’t seem logical.

      They waved goodbye to the children from the front porch, and then Shayna gave him a sideways smile. “You were sweet to Eddie. He needs a good male role model.”

      “Whoa,” Marco said quickly. “I’m not a role model.”

      “Maybe not,” she said with a sigh. “But poor Leila can’t do it all by herself. She tries to get all the work she can, especially at the hotel, and Jilly tries hard to be a good babysitter. But she gets distracted and Eddie takes off on his chubby little legs. The next thing we know, there’s Eddie showing up at the hotel or wherever Leila is working that day. They have to watch him like a hawk.”

      Marco tilted his head, considering that little story and taking it to heart. “Well, you can’t blame him, poor little guy. After all, with his father missing, I’m sure he’s scared he’ll lose his mom, too. So he takes off after her, just to be sure she comes home.”

      She shrugged. “I suppose so.”

      He sighed and turned to her.

      “Where the hell am I going to find red licorice?” he asked distractedly. “Do you suppose anyone has it here?”

      She smiled, feeling a small flutter of relief. It didn’t seem that his memory was coming back after all. “Don’t worry, we’ll find some. I’ll help.”

      They went back into the house and she headed for her bedroom to change for the island trip. She took off the pareau with regret. She probably wouldn’t get to wear that again for another year at least. Any moment now, she would start expanding at the waistline.

      “How come you’re Aunty Shayna and I’m Mr. Marco?” Marco called from the living room. He’d slipped onto a bar stool and leaned against her counter with both elbows.

      “They know me better,” she called from her room. “It’s sort of a tradition here in the islands. To the children, close family friends are called Aunty.” She chuckled. “You want to be an uncle?”

      “That’s not necessary,” he said. “Mr. Marco is better than Mr. Smith, though.” He groaned, rubbing his face as though trying to wake from a bad dream. “Are you seriously trying to convince me that I was using a phony name when I was here before?”

      “Yes, Marco. We all knew you as Marco Smith, and probably no one over twelve bought it for a minute. But that’s the way things are here. If you wanted to be a Smith, everyone was okay with that. We’re easy.”

      He grunted. “It must be confusing to a little guy like Eddie,” he noted more to himself than to her.

      “Maybe.” She sighed. “Poor Leila—their mom. She’s having a hard time of it since her husband went missing. And Jilly has pretty much become the nanny for the babies.”

      “There are more of them?” he said, then winced at the horror he’d allowed to show in his tone.

      “Besides Jilly and Eddie?” she responded. “Two more. Jamu is eight months and Ali is about ten.” She poked her head out and grinned at him. “Here in the islands, we consider children a blessing, not a burden. It does change your outlook.”

      “I suppose so,” he murmured, but he wasn’t really listening. Memories of another little boy came tumbling back into his heart and he turned away, fighting it. A little boy named Carlo who had been the child of a woman he was pretty seriously dating at one time. When she’d decided to move on to other relationships, he’d lost his connection to the boy, and it had hurt more than he’d ever thought possible. That was a painful chapter in his past, a chapter he didn’t want to revisit. If he had to lose a period of his life to amnesia, why couldn’t it have been that one?

      He glanced at Shayna as she came out of the bedroom. She didn’t know about little Carlo, of course. No matter how close they had become before, he knew he wouldn’t have told her about Carlo. Setting his jaw, he pushed thoughts of the little boy he’d cared so much about away and turned his mind to the woman in front of him.

      She’d changed into denim capris and a bright Hawaiian shirt and he had a moment of regret that the naked stomach was gone. But she’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail and she looked downright adorable anyway. Good enough to kiss. Only she didn’t have that “Hey, why don’t you kiss me?” look in her eyes that a man liked to see before he made that move. So he let the moment pass.

      “I’ll bet you were a tomboy,” he remarked, looking her over. “All you lack are the freckles on the nose.” His eyebrows rose as he surveyed her feet. “But I hope you’re not planning on hiking or climbing any trees today,” he said.

      She lifted her chin. “Why not?”

      “Flip-flops?” he said, looking askance. “You really want to drive around on your Vespa in those?”

      He glanced pointedly at her feet and she flashed her sandals proudly.

      “You call them flip-flops. Some people call them thongs. Here in the islands, we call them zoris and everybody wears them.”

      “Not me,” he said stoutly.

      She grinned. “Not yet,” she amended for him.

      He couldn’t resist grinning back, then shook his head. There was so much about her he didn’t know. “Where are you from, Shayna?”

      Something flashed in the depths of her blue eyes. He sharpened his own gaze, trying harder to read them, but whatever it was he’d noticed for just those few seconds proved elusive.

      “What makes you think I wasn’t born right here on this island?” she challenged, her gaze clear as glass.

      He shook his head slowly, taking in her various assets one by one. “I don’t buy it. You give off cosmopolitan vibes. You’ve been around.