Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 (15 page)

“Delicious,” Jade said, surprising herself by being so hungry, but the food, the atmosphere, were conducive to a very pleasant time.

As they enjoyed their meal, he gave her a brief history of the Bermudas. “The islands were named for a man named Juan de Bermudez, who is said to have shipwrecked around here about 1503, and they’re charted on a map dated 1511 and recorded as ‘La Barmuda’. The first settlement didn’t come till the early 1600s, when Sir George Somers, a British admiral headed for Virginia in his ship the
Sea Venture
, blew off course during a storm and wrecked and wedged so tightly in the reefs that the vessel stayed upright. The crew and almost two hundred passengers worked together to build two ships from salvaged material and went on to what’s known as our Jamestown, Virginia, colony a year later.

“When they finally got there,” he continued, “they found the people starving, so the admiral came back here to get food. Unfortunately, he died here, and from then on, his sea mates referred to the islands as the ‘Somers’, in tribute to him. Colonists were sent and founded the city of St. George, which was subsequently sold to a group who called themselves the Bermuda Company, but sometime toward the end of the seventeenth century, the King of England annulled the original charter and made Bermuda a colony under the Crown, and it’s been that way ever since.”

“How were you able to buy your own island?” she wanted to know.

He explained that he’d made arrangements through a British trading company that held title from the original purchase that had never been claimed by the Crown. “This island is so small, there was no use for it, so they were glad to get a sale. It took me several years to get the house built, but Marnia and I enjoyed every minute.”

“Marnia.” Jade mouthed the name thoughtfully, curiously. “That’s an unusual name. What does it mean?”

“Ironically,” he obliged, “it means ‘Maiden of the Sea’, and she was truly that. She loved to sail as much as I did. I think that was the secret of our happiness, we were so much alike.”

Jade’s understanding smile was bittersweet. “Not colt and me. I’m Irish by birth, Russian royalty by heritage, and I was a ballet dancer. Colt was an American cowboy in France. Complete opposites, but I loved him from the first moment we met.”

He urged her to tell him how that had come about and, sipping brandy-laced coffee and nibbling bananas dipped in toasted coconut and a sherry sauce, she began to tell him her story. At first, it was painful, but her new and welcomed state of apathy took over, and the words began to flow easily. Bryan laughed on hearing the story of how Drakar had planned to use her to make Colt realize all women were not alike, nodded with tender understanding as she explained how she had fallen in love.

In turn, he shared his own story of his romance with Marnia, how his family had at first voiced opposition, then had been won over by her charm, grace, and beauty.

Warmed by dual memories of happiness climaxed by tragedy, the bond between them grew. They rose simultaneously from the table as if by tacit agreement and left the terrace. Walking down the stone steps toward the grassy arms of the waiting lawn that led to the pink-tinged beach, Bryan took her hand easily; and, lost in thought and mutual sharing of experiences, Jade absently accepted it, if she even noticed.

They reached the beach, and Jade removed the satin slippers she’d taken from Marnia’s closet so that she could feel the cooling water lapping at her feet. Bryan began to ask her more questions about herself, her past, and she found it easy to describe her life in Ireland, in Russia; but when she began to share her love of ballet, her dream of opening a dance school in America, she suddenly paused in midsentence and addressed herself in silent horror: Why was she telling him all this? Why was she sharing such intimate thoughts? Only four days ago, she had no other dream except a future with her husband, and now she was on a remote island with a stranger and
she
…she was a widow.

She pulled away from his grasp, pressed both her hands against her face, and breathed deeply.

Bryan made no move to touch her. They had reached the cove where he’d known such joy with Marnia, and he began to unweave the intricate murmurings and tortures of his own private hell. He spoke in a hushed monotone, so low as to barely be heard above the gentle lapping of the waves and the melodic song of the night birds.

He finished by soberly confessing, “I came here to drown myself.”

She looked up at him sharply, and dully, he went on. “I haven’t told you how I lost Marnia and our son. They were staying at a small hotel in the city while our house on the Hudson was being redecorated. There was a fire one evening while I was out. They burned to death.” He shuddered, sucked in his breath, let the ragged edge of grief subside before continuing.

“I buried them, along with my heart, and I told myself nothing else mattered except getting drunk and staying drunk so it wouldn’t hurt so bad. I went through denial and disbelief, the refusal to accept, and, finally, anger. I made up my mind I didn’t want to go beyond that. I wanted to die. The best way to do that was to come here, where we were so happy, where we made our son, and I was going to drink myself into a stupor and let the tide take me to eternity…wherever that might be.”

For the first time since he’d begun his pensive soliloquy, he looked at her. She thought him even in that moment to be a very attractive man, found him sensitive, kind, and she empathized with him for his own sake, not in the mutual bond of another grievous soul.

“Then I found you. When I first saw you out there in the water, I thought you were Marnia.” He paused to emit a sharp, bitter laugh. “That had happened to me plenty of times, because I stayed drunk, and when a man’s drunk, the devil has lots of room to play with his mind, to torture. He made me see Marnia in dozens of different ways, but always laughing, always enticing, and always eluding me when I reached out and tried to touch her. I’d cry when I realized it was a dream, drink a little more, and then the same thing would happen all over again. A vicious cycle. A cruel cycle.”

Jade did not speak, knew it was not the time, sensed his need to purge himself of the guilt of his behavior.

He shook his head in self-loathing for his weakness, then looked at her with a sudden new brightness in his eyes. “I thought you were a special manna, a gift from God to appease me for taking Marnia, and I started having all kinds of unhealthy thoughts, about how you were mine, and we were meant to be, and I’d bring you here and keep you forever, and you could be Marnia to me. But being with you, caring about you…” He reached to take her hand and stared at her intensely, begging for understanding. “I came to realize none of those things I was thinking were true. For the first time since Marnia’s death, my mind is functioning without whiskey, and everything is coming clear.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Jade, but I accept that you aren’t Marnia, you aren’t a gift from God. I just happened to be there when you needed me, and that’s the secret, don’t you see?”

Jade blinked, bewildered. Standing before her was a very complete kind of man, mature, intelligent, wise, and quite in control of his thoughts, words, and deeds. This was a man she could lean on, if need be…and trust.

“The secret,” he went on, “is my being needed. For the first time since I lost my wife and son, who were my reasons for living, someone needs me, and that’s a damn good feeling. I’ve got a reason to go on, if not for you, for other people.”

Jade did not speak, too awed by his confession, his self-awareness; knew she still had far to go herself to be that self-possessed again, if ever she would be.

They stood together, there in the cove, which, in the silver moonlight that filtered down through the swaying palms, seemed almost hallowed. A long time passed, and neither spoke, too lost in meditation. Finally, Bryan turned, and they began to walk back toward the house.

“As I told you before,” he said, “you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, but when you want to leave, just let me know, and I’ll take you to the mainland and arrange for you to book passage to—” He froze in midsentence, looked at her curiously. “Where would you go?”

She shook her head, her mind still back there in the cove, wishing she had come as far as he in coping with her life. “I suppose I’d go on to New York. My bank account is there. Colt wanted to ensure that my inheritance would remain solely under my control. His will probably revert to his family, but I don’t need it, and I doubt anyone knew our finances were set up that way, so mine will be waiting. Money won’t be a problem.

“I’ve no reason to return to Russia,” she continued. “As I told you, I was never really happy there. And I don’t want to go to France. As much as I love Colt’s family, they’ve enough problems of their own without worrying about me. It’s probably best that I don’t even contact them and let them know I’m alive. Besides, I’m afraid the shock of Colt’s death is probably going to be more than Mr. Coltrane can bear with his health as poor as it is.” She asked him of his own plans.

He grinned sardonically. “You mean now that I’ve changed the one to kill myself?’ He shook his head in shame to have ever contemplated such weakness. “For now, I’m going to stay here. My business interests back in the States are run by competent people. I think I need a good, long vacation, and besides, I’ve got everything I need right here. I can sail, swim, fish, and there are friends on the mainland if I get lonely.”

He gave her a sharp, sideways glance. “You can stay, too, and I think you realize by now you’ve nothing to fear from me. You make me happy when you let me look after you, Jade.”

The whisper from her heart was barely audible. “I don’t know, Bryan. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Suddenly he turned to clasp her shoulders and force her to look at him as he urged, “Stay. You don’t have to leave now. You don’t need money here. I’ve got enough for both of us. Just stay…be my friend.”

His eyes searched hers for some hint of acquiescence, but all he saw reflected in the dull green depths were dismay and confusion.

“I don’t know,” she repeated, turning her face to the sea, to where the night wind might take her closer to the love she once knew. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I need time.”

“Of course.” He turned once more and led her the rest of the way to the house in silence, giving her privacy for her thoughts. He whispered good night outside the French doors to her room, then walked away.

Jade went inside and threw herself across the bed, willed the tears to come, but torpidity had returned. She could not cry, could only lie there feeling numb, void of any emotion except the wish to turn back the hands of time and make all the pain go away, return to what was, what might have been…not have to face what would never be.

For a long time she lay there, then finally got up and moved to the window to look out at the night, made silver and pink by the moonlight upon the coral-tinged sand.

Then she saw him, standing at the edge of the terrace, staring out at the lonely ocean which seemed to stretch to infinity. He looked the epitome of despair. A wretched, haunted man. Yet, for her sake, he had found strength within, a strength he’d thought so lost there was nothing left, save ending his life. He’d said she needed him, and that had given him a reason to live. Now, as he stood there with eyes moist, once again able to experience an emotion, she could acknowledge, realize, that
he
needed
her
, and so, that would give her the reason she needed to go on.

They had both loved intensely only to lose everything. They needed each other.

For the time being, she resolved to remain on the island, to take one day at a time and try to get by, try to cope with what God had left her with—loneliness, anguish, and a part of her heart carved out forever. Colt would never be forgotten, and she would always love him, but there had to be a reason she’d been spared.

Perhaps one day she would know why that additional cruelty had been inflicted upon her.

Chapter Thirteen

When the tears came, as they inevitably did in the throes of her shock and grief, Bryan was there for her. In the night, it was as though he had a special ear, tuned all the way from his room and across the great room to hers, and he would hear her and be by her side before her tears hit her pillow. He would cradle her in his arms and urge her not to hold back, to let the tears flow, for there was much of the poison of grief inside her that had to come out in order for the healing process to begin.

Jade spent most of her days resting in her room, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, or standing at the French doors to gaze pensively out at the sparkling ocean. In the evenings, she would politely join her host for dinner, attempt to make polite conversation, then escape to her room, which had become her sanctuary, where she could lock herself away to try and make sense of the maelstrom of uncertainty her life had become.

Bryan was solicitous, inquiring whether she needed anything, but yielded, for the time being, to her desire for solitude.

Finally, one morning after two weeks of shutting herself off from the world around her, Jade was surprised to be awakened by Bryan, not Amelia, coming in with her breakfast tray. “All right, m’lady,” he greeted her jovially. “Today’s the day you start getting acquainted with your new home. Pick out a pretty dress and meet me down at the dock in an hour.”

She sat up to rub at her eyes sleepily, blink against the sudden invasion of light as he drew the draperies open, revealing another blue and golden day in Bermuda. Dubiously, she inquired, “Where are we going?” She wasn’t at all enthused over thoughts of venturing out among people.