Risky Business

as if she’d just seen something lovely. “I remember holding this stack of towels in my hand and thinking, ‘Oh God, this is it, and I’ve only done half my rooms.’” She laughed and went back to her meal. Jonas’s bowl sat cooling.
    “You worked the day your baby was born?”
    “Of course. I was healthy.”
    “I know men who take the day off if they need a tooth filled.”
    She laughed again and passed him the crackers. “Maybe women take things more in stride.”
    Only some women, he thought. Only a few exceptional women. “And afterward?”
    “Afterward I was lucky again. A woman I worked with knew Señora Alderez. When Faith was born, her youngest had just turned five. She took care of Faith during the day, so I was able to go right back to work.”
    The cracker crumbled in his hand. “It must have been difficult for you.”
    “The only hard part was leaving my baby every morning, but the señora was wonderful to Faith and to me. That’s how I found this house. Anyway, one thing led to another. I started the dive shop.”
    He wondered if she realized that the more simply she described it, the more poignant it sounded. “You said the dive shop was a gamble.”
    “Everything’s a gamble. If I’d stayed at the hotel, I never would have been able to give Faith what I wanted to give her. And I suppose I’d have felt cheated myself. Would you like some more?”
    “No.” He rose to take the bowls himself while he thought out how to approach her. If he said the wrong thing, she’d pull away again. The more she told him, the more he found he needed to know. “Where did you learn to dive?”
    “Right here in Cozumel, when I was just a little older thanFaith.” As a matter of habit she began to store the leftovers while Jonas ran water in the sink. “My parents brought me. I took to it right away. It was like, I don’t know, learning to fly I suppose.”
    “Is that why you came back?”
    “I came back because I’d always felt peaceful here. I needed to feel peaceful.”
    “But you must have still been in school in the States.”
    “I was in college.” Crouching, Liz shifted things in the refrigerator to make room. “My first year. I was going to be a marine biologist, a teacher who’d enlighten class after class on the mysteries of the sea. A scientist who’d find all the answers. It was such a big dream. It overwhelmed everything else to the point where I studied constantly and rarely went out. Then I—” She caught herself. Straightening slowly, she closed the refrigerator. “You’ll want the lights on to do those dishes.”
    “Then what?” Jonas demanded, taking her shoulder as she hit the switch.
    She stared at him. Light poured over them without the shifting shadows of candles. “Then I met Faith’s father, and that was the end of dreams.”
    The need to know eclipsed judgment. He forgot to be careful. “Did you love him?”
    “Yes. If I hadn’t, there’d have been no Faith.”
    It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted. “Then why are you raising her alone?”
    “That’s obvious, isn’t it?” Anger surged as she shoved his hand aside. “He didn’t want me.”
    “Whether he did or didn’t, he was responsible to you and the child.”
    “Don’t talk to me about responsibility. Faith’s my responsibility.”
    “The law sees things otherwise.”
    “Keep your law,” she snapped. “He could quote it chapter and verse, and it didn’t mean a thing. We weren’t wanted.”
    “So you let pride cut you off from your rights?” Impatient with her, he stuck his hands in his pockets and strode back to the sink. “Why didn’t you fight for what you were entitled to?”
    “You want the details, Jonas?” Memory brought its own particular pain, its own particular shame. Liz concentrated on the anger. Going back to the table, she picked up her glass of wine and drank deeply.
    “I wasn’t quite eighteen. I was going to college to study exactly what I wanted to study so I could do exactly what I wanted to do. I considered myself a great deal more mature than some of my classmates who flitted around from class to class more concerned about where the action would be that night. I spent most of my evenings in the library. That’s where I met him. He was in his last year and knew if he didn’t pass the bar there’d be hell to pay at home. His family had been in law or politics since the Revolution. You’d understand about family honor, wouldn’t you?”
    The arrow hit