N DAY THREE of the Seven Days in Paradise, as he was thinking of it, James called Lavinia and asked her if she’d look after Beauty for the day.

“What for?” she asked.

“I want to take Parker out of town.”

“You two gonna elope?” she said, coughing that rusty bark. “She’s been all smiles the past few days.”

James laughed. “We’re not eloping. I’m not that lucky.”

“Aw, listen to him. Sure, I’ll watch the dog. Bring me a present. I’m low on ciggies.”

“Thanks, Vin.”

Parker was in the shower when he got back. She was singing. He tilted his head. “Wheels on the Bus.” Maybe it was because her kid was coming up this Sunday, but she did seem happier.

He sure was.

For years now, Parker had been in the back of his mind—and in the front a lot of times, too. Though he’d had the expected hookups with Leah on and off for the past year, as well as a few before her, James hadn’t really been in what he thought of as a real relationship. He’d never met a girl’s parents. Never thought of himself as wanting more, except for a few hours at the cousin’s wedding, that was.

Last night, he and Parker had gone down to the dock with a bottle of wine and the dog. Spread out a blanket and just lay there, looking up at the stars, Parker’s head on his shoulder as she pointed out constellations he pretended he could see, blinded by the perfection of the moment. The water lapped gently at the rocky shore, and his fingers had played in Parker’s smooth hair, and it occurred to James that he’d never even imagined a moment like this happening to a guy like him.

“And right there, see? That’s Orion. See the belt?”

“Sure,” he said, seeing nothing. “It’s Armani, isn’t it?”

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to mock me. It’s just that Harvard had a fabulous planetarium, and until now, I haven’t had anyone to impress.”

He held her a little closer. “In that case, impress away.”

She’d rolled on top of him instead. And hell, he’d been very impressed at what she’d done next.

“Come on, Parker!” he yelled now, thumping on the bathroom door. “You rich girls take forever in there.”

“I’m not rich anymore,” she said, opening the door. Wearing a towel, her wet hair streaming down her back.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Hurry up. We have a long drive.”

She smiled and padded into her bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed. “You sure we should go anywhere?” Those green cat eyes were inviting.

“Actually, we can wait a little,” James said.

And so it was that they were a little late in getting down to Machias. “Why are we here?” Parker asked.

“I thought we could see a movie,” he answered.

“Which movie?”

“Oh, come on.”

“What?”

“Parker. The Holy Rollers in 3-D! opened a few days ago.” He glanced at her.

“Oh, crikey,” she said, putting her hand over her eyes. “Dang. I knew there was something great about having spotty internet.” She peeked at James. “How’d it do?”

“Fourteen million, second only to the alien flick.” He was well aware that she’d been paid quite a bit for the film rights, all of which had been donated to Save the Children.

“Do we have to see it? I’m taking Nicky as it is.”

“Let’s get it over with. You can make gagging noises with me. With him, you’ll have to behave,” he said.

“Good point.”

Twenty minutes later, they were in the little theater, along with about twenty rowdy kids between the ages of chair kicking and squealy texting. The previews began—Smurfs, gnomes, wizards, dogs. The kid behind him spilled his popcorn and started to cry. The tweenie girls in front of them giggled shrilly. “Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?” one kid chanted over and over while her mother ignored her and talked to another kid’s mom.

Even Dante couldn’t have imagined this circle of hell.

He glanced at Parker, whose face was a little gray. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’ll be great.”

“It’ll suck, James,” she whispered back.

“Terrible attitude. Put on your glasses, it’s starting.”

The lights lowered completely, and the movie began.

Parker was right. The Holy Rollers in 3-D! was ghastly. Obvious, blatant, manipulative and all wrapped up in more sugary coating than Lucky Charms cereal. Could there be any more shades of pink in the Holy Rollers’ tree house? One angel’s voice was so high that James imagined every dog in a two-block radius was howling. Rainbow-colored butterflies floated out at them in 3-D effect, as did bubbles, bluebirds and the glittery rush of angelic roller skates.

James glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. This felt longer than a problematic colonoscopy.

He sighed and put his arm around Parker, who was staring, horrified, at the screen. He kissed her temple, but she was mesmerized. “I can’t believe people paid money to see this,” she whispered.

Golly, Polly and Molly, Ike, Mike and Spike whooshed in and out of regular kids’ lives, ate angel food cake and soothed mortal children. A cat died and went to heaven. A dog learned that his limp wasn’t so bad. A bat, previously thought to have rabies, was accepted by the owl family, and throughout it all, the Holy Rollers delivered squeaky messages of mercy and good cheer.

A lifetime later, the Sappy Six had earned their sparkly wings—which seemed to flutter right into the audience. A few kids clapped. The tweenie girls pronounced the movie “so, like, totally stupid” and the audience filed out. Parker and James sat there, watching the credits.

There. Based on the bestselling children’s book series by Parker Welles.

James looked over at her. Even wearing 3-D glasses, she was beautiful.

She was also crying.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad,” he said, taking her in his arms.

“No, it was,” she said unevenly. “And the thing is, I hate the Holy Rollers, James, but somehow they’re the best thing I ever did, and how rotten does that make me feel? I can’t write anything else, I’m completely tapped out for ideas and this is my legacy.” She tucked her face against his shoulder, her back heaving in little spasms. “Meanwhile, Nicky’s having the best summer of his life, Lucy’s the world’s greatest stepmother—she bakes cookies every day, James. Every day! They have this cute little family, Ethan is perfect, and you know they’ll have kids of their own pretty soon, and Nicky will have siblings. He’d probably miss me if I died, for a couple weeks, anyway, but Lucy would be a great mom, and the only thing I’m good at is being fake. Those squeaky little bastards were the best I could do, and now even that’s done.”

She pulled back, her face wet and blotchy, and looked at him.

“Wow,” he murmured. “So much self-pity in one big sloppy breath. I can’t believe I slept with you.” Then he grinned, and she gave a little surprised snort of laughter and smacked him on the shoulder. Hard.

“You’re no help. I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re just my boy toy.” She swallowed and wiped her eyes with a napkin.

James looked at her for a long minute. “Come on, princess. I want you to meet someone.”

* * *

IT TOOK TWO HOURS TO GET from Machias to wherever James was taking her. They didn’t talk too much on the way. They did hold hands, though.

Parker couldn’t remember the last time she’d held hands with someone other than Nicky, who always grabbed on without thinking. It was admittedly the sweetest feeling in the world, his warm little hand in hers. But James holding her hand so firmly, so naturally…this was pretty great, too.

Around four, they slowed down in front of a long, solid-looking rock wall. The sign said Beckham Institute in brass letters. James pulled up to the guardhouse, which sat in front of an iron gate. “Hey, Bert,” he said.

“Hey, James, how’s it going?” The guard looked into the window. “Hello there,” he said, smiling.

“Hi,” Parker answered, feeling suddenly shy.

Bert punched a code, the gate swung open and James drove in.

The grounds were lush and beautiful, carefully landscaped, dotted with robust beds of red and white impatiens, well-placed trees and brick pathways. It looked like a college campus, the old brick buildings in good repair, window boxes overflowing with ivy and geraniums.

But it wasn’t a college. There were a lot of staff members identified by the red shirts they wore, Beckham written in white letters across the back. There were also quite a few people in wheelchairs. Parker saw one man on a bench, wearing a helmet, rocking, as a staffer chatted with another client, this one on the type of metal crutches that bespoke lifelong use. Some of the clients were older, with white hair and spines bent from osteoporosis. Others were heartbreakingly young.

Someone was kicking a ball. Parker could hear snatches of music. There was a large playground with wider-than-usual swings and pathways—to accommodate wheelchairs, Parker guessed. She’d seen one such playground before.

James parked in front of a more modern building and got out. “Come on,” he said, extending his hand.

Parker would’ve asked who was here, but the lump in her throat was too big. She had a good idea, anyway.

“Hi, Carol,” James said to the woman at the front desk.

“Hi, honey!” she said. “How are you?”

“I’m great. This is my friend Parker.” He bent to sign a book, writing Parker’s name, as well, she noted.

“Hello,” the woman said.

“Nice to meet you,” Parker said.

“I think she’s in her room,” Carol said. “They just got out of music therapy. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“Thanks.” James went down the hallway, and Parker followed.

How had she never known?

Then James stopped in front of room 111, knocked once and opened the door to a dorm-style room: a twin bed, posters on the wall, stuffed animals. Parker hovered half in the doorway, half in the hall.

“Hi, sis,” he said, smiling.

“James!” the woman exclaimed. “Hi, James! Hi!” She launched herself into James’s arms, laughing with joy. “You’re here!”

It was the woman from the photo on James’s bureau. The blue-eyed, dark-haired woman.

She had her brother’s smile.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, kissing her on the forehead.

“I had art. I made a bird. It’s not so good. I kept it, though. It’s drying. Pete sent me a teddy bear.” She picked up a bear from her bed and handed it to James, then twisted her fingers together.

“Oh, that’s a really nice bear,” James said. “What’s his name?”

“Duh. Teddy. It’s a teddy bear, James. Pete sent it.”

He gave her a look. “I know what it is, Mary Elizabeth. But you don’t have to name them all Teddy. James is a great name for a bear. I’m just saying.”

Mary Elizabeth found this pretty funny, because she stopped twining her fingers and laughed, a big openmouthed laugh that ended in a squeak. “James! That’s your name!”

He smiled and reached up to smooth her curly hair. “Hey, Mary Elizabeth, I brought someone to see you,” James said. “This is my friend, Parker. Parker, my sister.”

Mary Elizabeth looked at her a bit warily.

“Hi, Mary Elizabeth,” Parker said.

“Hi,” she said, glancing back at her brother. The finger twisting began again. “Okay, bye, James’s friend.”

“She’s gonna stay a little while,” James said. “You know the Holy Rollers, right?”

“Duh, James. The Holy Rollers and the Blind Little Bunny. You gave me a Spike doll. He’s the head angel.”

“Well, Parker here, she wrote those books,” James said.

Mary Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You did?” she breathed. “You wrote those books? You wrote the Holy Rollers books?”

“I did,” Parker said.

The girl’s—woman’s—mouth dropped open, her fingers moving faster now.

“You like those books, right, Mare?” James asked.

“I like those books. I love those books! I have a Spike doll! They live in a tree fort!”

“We saw the movie, Mare. It was great. I’ll take you next week, okay?” James offered.

Mary Elizabeth Cahill had all the Holy Rollers books on a shelf. James had given them to her, she said. For the next hour, Parker fielded the girl’s—woman’s—questions as best she could, agreeing that yes, The Holy Rollers and the Big Mean Bully was the best of all the books, and yes, angel food cake was her favorite dessert, too, but no, she had never had a tree fort.

Throughout the interrogation, Parker kept looking at James, who sat on the window seat, his face neutral as Mary Elizabeth chattered. Occasionally, he made a joke, but mostly he was quiet.

Finally, an aide of some kind knocked on the door. “Sorry to break this up, guys. Mary Elizabeth, it’s time for dinner, hon. James, you and your friend gonna stay?”

James glanced at Parker. “Not this time.”

“I’m starving,” Mary Elizabeth announced. She stood up and looked at Parker. “You’re my best friend now.”

“Thanks, Mare,” James said with an exaggerated sigh. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You’re my brother. You can’t be best friends with your brother.”

“So true, Mary Elizabeth,” Parker said. “Don’t listen to him—he’s just grumpy.”

Mary Elizabeth seemed to like that. “You’re just grumpy, James,” she repeated. “You’re grumpy.” She looked at Parker, a gleam of conspiratorial delight in her eyes. “I love you, James’s friend,” she added, hugging Parker hard.

“I love you, too,” Parker said. Then Mary Elizabeth detached and hugged her brother. “Bye, James! See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Mare. I love you.” James hugged his sister back, kissed her twice, then waved as she and the aide walked from the room.

“See you tomorrow?” Parker asked.

“She doesn’t really have a sense of time.”

“Oh.”

James stood up and put his hands in his pockets. “Well. Thank you for making her life.” He grinned, but it was a pale imitation of the usual. “Want to take a walk?”

“Sure.”

James clearly knew the place well, and several people, clients and staff alike, said hello, calling him by name. They walked through the campus, down a wide brick pathway to a little garden. There was a fountain in the middle, and two sparrows were taking a bath. The grounds were quieter now, and Parker could smell garlic and roast chicken.

“Food’s pretty good here,” James said, as if he heard her thoughts.

“That’s a plus.”

He was staring at the birds. “The technical term is anoxic brain injury. Deprived of air during a near drowning.”

Parker bit her lip. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

He leaned back, took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. Then he told her the story.

Mary Elizabeth had been a surprise baby—the four Cahill boys had been born within six years of each other, with Mary Elizabeth coming five years after James, the youngest son. She’d been as spoiled as a little girl could be; if one brother failed to obey her command, surely another would. She had them all wrapped, James said. Especially their father, who viewed Mary Elizabeth as a reward for enduring four boys. Her brothers would give her piggybacks, ride her on the handlebars of their bikes, even play princess tea party with her. She was the light of the family, everyone’s favorite.

Then, when James was twelve and Mary Elizabeth was seven, Tommy graduated from high school. The school gave out only four tickets per family, so James volunteered to stay home and babysit. The Terminator was on, and his mother hadn’t let him see it when it was in the theaters. The rest of the family went off to the high school. Mary Elizabeth asked to go swimming; the Cahills lived on a lake, and the kids swam almost every day.

James said no. Gave her some popcorn, made her a fort out of blankets in her bedroom, left her there playing with her dolls. Then he went into the living room and sat in front of the TV.

By the time he realized she was in the lake, she was already way too far out. He yelled for her to come in, and she turned and headed for shore. All the Cahills were excellent swimmers. But she was tired. When her head slipped beneath the surface, it took him a second to realize what was happening. There was no splashing, no yelling, no flailing. She just disappeared.

“I remembered what my dad always told us—row, throw, go. Row out, throw them something or go for help.” James’s voice was horribly quiet and calm. “We had a little dinghy, and I don’t even remember getting in it. I was pulling the oars as hard as I could, and I could hear myself screaming her name….”

He jumped in where he thought she’d gone under, but the lake was murky, and it was hard to see anything. He swam around, eyes burning, chest aching, resurfaced for air and went under again.

And then he saw his sister’s hand, floating there, white against the green murkiness. He grabbed and pulled, kicking for all he was worth.

“They make it look so easy in the movies,” he said. “We were barely moving. She was a chubby little thing, weighed almost as much as I did back then. Then we broke the surface, and I held her face up, but the boat had drifted off in the wind, and I couldn’t make it. But I couldn’t let her go, either.”

“Oh, honey,” Parker whispered, wiping her eyes.

“We both went down, and I thought that was it, we were dying. I could see the light getting farther and farther away, and I felt so bad for my parents, to have to find us in the pond. But at least Mare and I would die together.”

Parker pressed her hand against her mouth, but a sob slipped out.

He gave her an oddly wry look. “I know. It’s a horrible story, isn’t it?” She squeezed his hand, unable to talk. “So, next thing I knew, my father had me by the arm, pulled me up, tossed me in the boat and went back for Mary. Got her to the dock, did CPR, all that. My mother was screaming, my brothers…well. It was a nightmare.”

“James, I’m so, so sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, the words pathetically inadequate.

He shook his head. “The TV was still on when I went back in the house. That’s what I remember. I wanted to watch the movie, and my sister almost died because of it.”

“James, you didn’t know what would happen! You told her not to go in, and you thought she was playing. It’s not your fault.”

“Oh, sure it is. My father grabbed the wrong kid first, that’s all.”

Parker’s heart seized. “No, James, you can’t think like that. You can’t.”

He gave her a bleakly rueful grin. “It’s what he used to tell me.”

Jesus. Parker squeezed his hand, unable to speak.

“So.” He took a breath, and his voice became more brisk. “Mare was in the hospital for weeks, then a rehab center. Mom started drinking, my brothers blamed me, and my father couldn’t stand the sight of me. That’s why I got shipped off to Dewey in the summers. And that’s the end of the tragic tale. I guess every family has one, and that’s ours.”

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for that, James. You were twelve years old,” she said.

“I was in charge. I knew she wanted to go in, and I knew she usually did what she wanted, but hey. The Terminator was on.”

“No, James. You were only a little kid yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t contradict her, but she could tell he didn’t believe her, either. The little birds were done with their bath, and a breeze rustled the leaves of the willow tree behind them.

“Do you pay for this place?” she asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

He nodded. “Shitty consolation prize. ‘Hey, Mary Elizabeth, I’m sorry I almost let you drown, but at least you can live in a nice institution.’”

No words were going to help here. Parker scootched onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him, kissed his head, her throat tight, and held him close, smoothing his hair, not saying anything.

“Parker?” he said eventually, his face against her neck.

“Yes?”

“I turned your father in to the SEC.”

The words took a minute to sink in. She blinked. “Excuse me?”

James pulled back to look at her. “He let something slip about a deal one night. Something that would be as good as Apple. I wasn’t sure at first, but it sounded…off.” His eyes were sad. “A drug company had a product really close to FDA approval, and he sank everything into it. He was absolutely sure it would be huge. But it didn’t pass its final trial. When he came to me and asked to liquidate your trust funds, I knew he’d screwed up.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath, utterly stunned.

James was quiet for a minute. “The law says if an attorney suspects a client is committing fraud that results in financial loss for other people, he has to turn him in. And even though I owed Harry everything, because I could never afford this place without him, I had to do it. I called the SEC, and they took it from there.”

Parker blinked. A sparrow landed on the back of the bench, then flew off. “Does he know?” she asked.

“He might. He probably does—he’s not an idiot—but he’s never said anything. He knows about my sister and how I pay for this place.” His dark eyes were full of so much—guilt, sorrow, regret. “I’m sorry, Parker. I knew you and Nicky would be collateral damage, but I couldn’t say anything without breaking the law. If I lost my license or got indicted with Harry, I wouldn’t be able to take care of Mary Elizabeth.”

Parker looked at him for a long, long moment, then put her hand over his heart. “Oh, James,” she whispered. “I would’ve done the exact same thing.”

* * *

IT WAS NOT GREAT TIMING, falling for someone four days before a relationship was scheduled to end. Parker admitted that. But that night, James asleep on one side of her, Beauty on the other, both of them sound asleep, she had to acknowledge that it was true.

She was in love.

She studied him as he slept. Cheekbones of an angel, perfect, smooth skin.

They would make beautiful babies, that was for sure.

Oh, holy halos. Where had that thought come from? Now was not the time to be thinking babies. She had a child. That child—and reality—were returning in four days.

And James had never said anything about wanting kids, or a future, or anything other than getting exactly what he was getting now. The L word had not been exchanged. Given the horror he’d lived through, having kids was probably not on his list of things to do.

But hearing about James’s past, seeing him with his sister…it changed things in her heart, if not in the world.

James stirred, frowned, then opened his eyes. “Hey,” he muttered.

“Hi.”

He looked at her, his eyes softening. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, on the chin, on the temple, until he was smiling, and then she kissed him on the mouth, and the feeling was so overwhelming, so right and wonderful, she thought her heart might come right out of her chest.

Four days. Four more days of this.

It didn’t feel like enough.