Midnight in Brussels (9 page)

The new John Cramer had been examined and tested by a neurosurgeon and was told he had suffered memory loss due to the concussion. The doc said his memory would eventually come back, that he needn’t panic. Most amnesia victims begin to regain bits and pieces if not in a few days, then in a few weeks. But it had been a year and a half and no bits and pieces had surfaced in Arlie’s memory.

The gunshot wound had raised questions from the sheriff’s department when he’d been hospitalized. They’d taken his fingerprints, but nothing came up in the system. He was truly a John Doe, or rather a John Cramer.

Little did they know, the pickup truck had been hauled off by a desperate passerby teenager. The shooter, being the
professional that he was, had picked up the bullet casings. As for Arlie’s wallet with his I.D. and money, it was never found.

So eventually life went on as usual, as it does in most small towns.

Arlie Jeffries was dead and gone. John Cramer was alive and well.

PART TWO

“
Your thoughts and your feelings create your life. It will always be that way. Guaranteed!”

  
 
Lisa Nichols

  
 
The Secret

Chapter 15

RACHEL O’NEILL

Another beautiful summer day
, Rachel O’Neill thought while stepping from the shower and glancing through the open French doors at the view from her bedroom to the garden and the sea beyond.

The aroma of roses, carnations, and hyacinths mixed with the crispy, cool salty sea air gave her a euphoric high as it always did. This was her favorite part of the world. She looked up into the sky where black clouds were overtaking the white ones, forming billowing picturesque subjects over the ocean.
Perfect watercolor paintings
she thought, remembering art classes she’d taken years previously. Storm clouds were the best subjects.

Storms weren’t unusual on the southwest coast of England in the summer. Glorious summer storms were especially of the norm in the Newlyn and Mousehole harbors, which was one of the reasons Rachel bought a cottage in Cornwall. The first time she had visited the area with Ethan Philips it had been a stormy Christmastime, and she was immediately hooked by the dramatic and romantic ambiance of her favorite author Daphne du Maurier’s world, creator of
Rebecca
,
My Cousin Rachel
, and
The Birds,
to name a few … du Maurier was the most successful Cornish novelist of all time.

Rachel agreed fully with Daphne’s description of Cornwall:
“Beautiful, mysterious, Cornwall exerts a potent spell on all who visit it.”

For hours Rachel would sit at her window spellbound, much like Daphne, watching violent lightning and thunder storms move from the sea to hover over the southwestern coast of England. Sometimes she would open her French doors and breathe in the fresh cold air that gave her an abundance of energy and fueled her creativity.

In the summer the Cornwall coast was also full of blossoms and butterflies and chirping birds, in spite of the occasional storms.

Not only did Rachel love her cottage on the cliff, she loved the fishing boats in Newlyn Bay below, with their clanking lines battering the masts making mysterious night music.

Newlyn was one of the few working fishing ports remaining in the UK, and hosted the second largest fishing fleet in the country – vessels of all sizes. The Pilchard Factory had recently closed, which was a sad event. It had been in operation for ninety years. When Rachel first arrived, the Pilchard factory was still in operation. She had spent many mornings soaking up the local color at the factory, watching and listening to the fishermen and the factory packers at work.

In the summer the primary catch was silver mackerel. How she loved walking to the Newlyn Fish Market where the fish were sold. The fish were held in rectangular baskets of all colors, neatly stacked, and ticketed waiting for a buyer in the auction - from dovers to hand-line caught tuna to monk to lemons to John Dorey.

She was thinking she might make a quick trip to the docks and see what fish were available that morning. She was feeling she might want to cook some for dinner.

Reaching for the plush towel she’d thrown over the white wicker chair near the French doors that opened onto the patio, she began humming George Gershwin’s “Summertime” while rubbing the water from her hair and face, followed by a quick, brisk drying of her body from her neck down to the soles of her feet. She was feeling that life was grand.

“You are lovely as a 'n noeth angel.” Pete’s voice startled her.”

“Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.” She laughed as she dropped the towel and went to him, standing on tiptoes to reach her hands up around his neck while pressing her nudeness against his fully-clothed body. She’d come a long way from the days she couldn’t bear to let anyone see her nakedness, including her first two husbands, not even Ethan. With Pete it had all gone by the wayside. He made her feel sexy and free. She adored him and wanted him to have every bare inch of her. He made her feel proud of the body of which she once felt ashamed.

Pete swept her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

“No, no, no,” she giggled. “I have to get dressed, darling. I have an appointment this morning.”

“All arhosa!” he replied in his native Welsh.

“Pete, speak English. What is all arhosa?”

“It means it can wait, my luv, it can wait.” He grinned widely, tossing her onto the bed and following after he pulled off his clothing as fast as he could. “You drive me mad, woman,
'n arbennig pryd 'ch re 'n noeth.”

“English!”

“Especially when you’re naked,” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck.

She loved Pete’s eagerness and his passion. He had made her believe her body was beautiful and he’d helped remove her shyness and terror of being naked in front of a man. He’d taught her that making love was the ultimate experience between a man and woman. She’d lived her whole life afraid of sex and the vulnerability it presented. It took Pete to change her feelings.

She couldn’t help but notice the franticness Pete was showing in this morning’s lovemaking. He usually was more gentle and a genius at foreplay. But not this time, it appeared. The passion was there, in fact it was at a frenzied high, and she had to admit she was enjoying it for a change. It made her giggle.

“My luv, my luv … ” He was devouring her breasts with his hands and his lips. He slowly flicked his tongue down her body past her navel, teasing her till he reached her female softness where he found what he was looking for. She sighed and squirmed with utter rapture.

Suddenly he rolled over on his back, placing her on top of him, pulling her hips to his. His huge hands held her buttocks in place as he entered her with ease and began the slow, rhythmic movements that she loved so much.

Later Pete sat on the edge of the bed beside Rachel and lifted her hand to his lips. “I have to leave for London in a couple of hours, luv.” He searched her green eyes for the reaction he knew was coming.

She frowned and stared into his eyes, not saying anything.

“You knew it would be soon, doll. You knew I’d be leaving again.”

“Where to this time?” she asked quietly, turning away.

“The Amazon.”

“Not again!” Rachel looked at him with a frown and sighed deeply.

“Yes, luv. The deforestation is happening at an alarming rate now, and we have to get in there to rescue samples before plant life as we know it will be completely destroyed. The country is being plundered, Rachel. These are critical times. We’ve discussed this.”

She looked down at their clasped hands in resignation, “I know. I know.”

“Be happy for me, Rachel. You know I love doing what I do. Please don’t make it difficult for me. I love you and I need your support.”

She stood in front of him and put her arms around his neck, while he remained seated on the bed, his face pressed against her breasts.

“I don’t mean to be a shrew, darling. I’ll just miss you, that’s all. I’m so afraid something will happen to you again. I couldn’t go through another plane crash, wondering if you’re alive or dead, and that jungle is treacherous.”

“There won’t be another plane crash, luv. The chances of it happening again are next to none. Besides, we’re flying into a major airport, not taking a puddle-jumper this time. And we’re going up river by boat, so there won’t be any small planes involved at all. I’ll be safe.”

“So how long will you be gone, then?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Three or four months. I’ll know more after we get there. Might be up to six, I won’t lie to you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before now? That’s not fair, Pete.”

He stood and held her close to him, tightly. “I didn’t have the heart to tell you. I knew how you’d feel and I couldn’t bear seeing it in your eyes. This way I only have to bear it for an hour or so.”

“Not fair, Pete! Not fair at all!” She pulled away from him and grabbed her towel on the way to the bathroom and slammed the door. In the next instant she re-opened the door and flew back into his arms, crying. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I act this way. I love you, my darling, and I will miss you so much.” She held on to him as if it would be the last time they’d be together.

“I love you, too. And when I get back we’ll take a holiday to Paris, if you’d like. How’s that, does that sound good to you?”

Trying to hold back the sobs, she looked up into her tall lover’s kind eyes, more in love with him than ever. She kissed his chin. “Yes, that would be perfect. Yes. I’ll make sure the house is ready for us, Montmartre will be perfect for an anniversary getaway – we can go to Maxim’s, reserve the same table where you proposed to me. We’ll invite Robert and Janet, too. Maybe Shellie and Adrian will be in town. Yes, that will be fun. I’ll get dressed and we can have a cup of coffee together before you go, then I’ll take you to the train station. I’ll cancel my appointment.”

“All right, luv.” He patted her on the bottom and gave it a loving squeeze as she turned away.

“Hey, stop that.”

They both laughed until she disappeared into the bathroom and he began putting on pants.

He called out to her, “Why don’t we get married this Christmas, luv? Don’t you think we’ve been engaged long enough? Two years is plenty of time, don’t you think?” He held his breath, waiting for an answer.

Rachel immediately appeared in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you mean it? You really want to?”

“It’s time, luv. That ring on your finger needs its matching mate.”

“You’re sure you want to? I mean, you’re the one who said there’s no rush.”

He walked to her and put his arms around her, “Do fi m 'n ddiball , 'm cara.”

“English, English!”

“Yes, I’m sure, my luv.”

“Oh, I am so ready to marry you, Pete Bell. I am so ready!”

Chapter 16

The next day went by fast. Rachel didn’t think of Pete as much as she thought she would, but then it had only been a day and night. Her thoughts were taken up with the subject matter of her next novel. After a two-month break since she’d submitted the previous novel to her agent, she was ready to get back to work on another one. She’d already decided where the setting of her new novel would be. So she figured she’d go there for a couple of months, or however long it would take to write the first draft. The timing was perfect since Pete would be away for a while.