Stone, Katherine (20 page)

"But you haven't spoken to her?"

"Not for nine years." Maylene looked at the daughter
who'd spent her entire life wishing for a mother. "Not all relationships
between parents and children are as close as yours is with your father. My
mother told me more lies than I could bear, and I said things to her I could
never expect her to forgive. It was best—for both of us—to go our separate
ways."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely." I'm certain she's better off without me.
But
I miss her.

***

There were two watery sounds in the hotel's Eden Health Spa.
Torrential rain splashed on the windows and a more distant sound, a rhythmic
splashing, came from the pool. It was 1:00 a.m. Sam knew how compulsive
business people could be about fitness, but he'd expected to be alone.

Sam hadn't planned to exercise, of course. His body remained lean,
taut, powerful simply from the way he lived.

Not particularly curious, but because the pool area was why he was
here, he walked toward the splashes.

The late-night swimmer was Maylene. She swam with the form and
speed of a champion, and her one-piece swimsuit confirmed the image. But her
hair was wrong for a champion. Unconfined in a cap, it trailed behind her in a
long black braid.

Sam knew the braid. She'd worn it every time she visited the
construction site since mid-July. She was a silken cowgirl: blue jeans, cowboy
boots, black silk braid, ivory silk blouses. Sam had encouraged her to stop by
at least once a week, but the visits were hardly necessary.

Beginning next week, though, he'd need her every day.

Need her... want her... every day.

To date, construction had gone beautifully, ahead of schedule and
with fewer modifications than Sam had dared to hope. But the trickiest part lay
ahead, the frosting of alabaster flesh onto its silver skeleton. The trickiest
time for Sam and Maylene lay ahead as well. Could they prevent the inevitable
professional setbacks from becoming personal ones?

Sam hoped so.

He hoped for so much more.

"Oh!" She was in the middle of the pool, treading water.
"You."

"Me. Hi."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to take a look at the pool layout. I think
something like this would work in the Palace. Do you?"

"Yes. I guess. How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to see how well you swim. Did you swim
competitively?"

"No."

"Then why do you swim so well?"

"I suppose because I learned to swim even before I could
walk." Maylene had been wondering, as she swam, if the memory of coziness
triggered by the rainstorm was a remembrance of being immersed in the warm
waters of a swimming pool. She decided it wasn't. Swimming felt safe, and there
was love blended in, but the emotion was different from the one evoked by the
rain. "My mother insisted on it."

"Was she a champion?"

"No. She couldn't swim at all, even though she spent the
first thirteen years of her life on a boat in Aberdeen Harbour."

"She came ashore when she was thirteen?"

"There was a typhoon. Her entire family was lost."

"But she was rescued."

"She rescued herself." It was the truth, despite the
fact that in Juliana's recounting, a plank from
Pearl Moon
had rescued
her, in concert with the gods, then a kindly truck driver, then Vivian. And,
five years later, the most important rescuer of all—Garrett.

The water on Maylene's ink-black lashes sparkled like diamonds.
Sam saw beyond the shimmer to the shadows in her eyes.

"I'll give you a few hundred thousand U.S. dollars for that
thought, Maylene."

"It's not worth it!"

"Let me be the judge."

"It's not worth it."

"All right." Sam smiled. "Twenty Hong Kong dollars
then."

Maylene shook her head, a small tight shake that was more plea
than defiance.

"Okay," Sam assured her gently. "The thought
remains with you. I just wanted to be sure there hadn't been any
recidivism." "Recidivism?"

"I know it's a big word for a cowboy. But I think I've used
it correctly. I just wanted to be sure you hadn't lapsed back into whatever
self-destructive habit it was you gave up six weeks ago."

"You haven't lapsed?"

"Not a puff."

"You must not have been a serious smoker."

"I was a very serious smoker, Jade. I was also very serious
about the deal we made."

Her lashes fell, spilling diamond droplets onto her cheeks. Sam
followed their shimmering path to her lips, but no lower. Beneath the water,
her lovely body was thinly veiled—and Maylene hadn't invited his eyes to travel
there. He stopped at the lush lips, which themselves sometimes sent dazzling
invitations, perhaps without her permission. They were trembling now.

"You're cold. And you're probably not about to get out with
me standing here, are you?"

Maylene smiled slightly. "I need to swim some more laps.
That'll warm me up."

"All right. Good night, then, Jade."

"Good night."

Sam started to turn away, but stopped for a final impulsive
question. "What do you think of the rain?"

"I think it's cozy." But I don't know why.

Thursday, September 2, 1993

Maylene
wandered, retracing the footsteps of her childhood in the
drenching rain. She looked like a madwoman, she supposed, a specter in cowboy
boots and jeans, walking in the storm instead of seeking shelter from it as she
searched for a truth hidden amid the raindrops.

She drew stares but was oblivious to them. She was on a quest for a
memory, illusory—yet real.

She visited places made magical by her mother, from the
silver-tipped waves of the harbor to the top of the Peak itself. Maylene stood
where her parents met beneath an April moon, and where she'd come with Juliana
so many times. But never on a day like this. The Hong Kong Trail couldn't
explain the coziness of the rain.

Nothing could. The soggy journey that commenced at dawn ended five
hours later without an answer. Her memory of love and rain was a phantom. Or
perhaps it was a wish to share something with her sister, to feel the joy
Allison felt.

Maylene's memory was, in fact, quite real. But her conscious mind
would never recall it. It would remain a feeling, not a thought, a memory of
the senses made by a tiny infant cradled in her mother's arms during a rainy
February twenty-eight years before. The starving mother was cold and afraid,
but all her baby daughter knew was warmth, despite the rain... and love,
despite her mother's fear.

***

"We can't sail today, Eve," Tyler had said when she
phoned him at nine. He'd added, very softly, "I've leased an apartment for
us, for days like this."

They couldn't go to his suite at the Regent. In its elegant lobby,
her brightly colored disguise would draw unwanted stares. The Robinson Road
apartment was safe. Its other residents would be at work from dawn till dusk.

As Tyler waited for Eve to arrive, he worried about the afternoon
ahead. They'd sailed almost weekly since mid-July, enchanted afternoons during
which they'd marveled at the splendor around them, yet never spoke of the
splendor that was theirs. With each sun-bright moment, he believed Eve was
seeing his love more clearly. They caressed with eyes and smiles, but never
kissed. Indeed, the only time they touched was when he helped her onto
Seven
Seas'
bobbing deck. Eve seemed confused by his touch, as if she couldn't
feel it, was numb to it—or as if, perhaps, it belonged to someone else.

***

She was so afraid. Tyler wouldn't push her, of course. He'd
wait—and wait—for her to make the first move... and wonder why she didn't.

Eve couldn't tell him why she was fearful of intimacy, couldn't
confess that her only experience with lovemaking was a violent one. She had to
conceal Geoffrey's brutality from Tyler, just as when they eventually discussed
her marriage she'd have to portray it as loveless but tolerable.

At the moment, her life with Geoffrey
was
tolerable. He
hadn't come near her for weeks and was energized in a way she'd never seen
before. Eve guessed he was involved with Cynthia Andrews, but doubted it was
his new mistress that made him so exhilarated. It was an impending business
deal, most likely, a financial triumph soon to be his. The anticipatory gleam
she saw belonged to a predator going for the kill.

Eve knew Geoffrey's gleam of conquest all too well. It was the way
he looked before claiming her.

What if Tyler's eyes, gleaming with desire, triggered terrifying
memories of Geoffrey?

She had to hide her fear.

She had to.

***

As Eve neared the apartment building on Robinson Road, she saw
Tyler waiting for her in the pouring rain. He was drenched, but smiling with
love, with welcome, for her.

It was then that Eve felt a most remarkable yearning from deep
within. She didn't know what it was, only that it became more insistent as they
rode the elevator to the apartment Tyler had found. Then they were inside, and
the desire Eve saw was pure, without a glimmer of conquest, and the source of
her longing became clear.

It came from the body that for so long had called to her only with
pain—and that had betrayed her by being beautiful. She'd forsaken the traitorous
shell. But it was imploring her now, pleading to be reunited with its heart.

Was it merely a wish for a shift in sovereignty from Geoffrey to
Tyler? No. Her estranged body wanted to belong to
her.
When she was
whole at last, hers at last, she could give herself to the man she loved.

"Oh, Eve." Tyler spoke with sadness to her tears.
"Darling, we're only here because it's raining. I'll make tea and we'll
talk, just like on the boat."

Eve answered with shimmering blue eyes. "Make love to me,
Tyler."

"Evangeline," he whispered.
"Evangeline."

***

As raindrops spilled outside, joy spilled within.
I
love
you.
Too soon, beneath the joy, Tyler heard a note of despair.

"It's time for me to don my plumage."

"Your plumage, Eve?"

With a lovely smile, she told him about the Festival of the
Maidens, when the girls of Hong Kong celebrated their hopes for good marriages.
As with all Chinese celebrations, the festival was based on legend—in this
instance, an ancient tale of lovers condemned by the gods to live forever on separate
stars. The Birds of Heaven took pity on the couple. Once a year they flew with
wings touching wings, creating a bridge of feathers between the distant stars.

"We're like those star-crossed lovers," Eve said.
"The bridge of brilliant plumage that enables us to be together is the
wardrobe created by Juliana. She even uses feathery colors, peacock and canary
and—"

"We're not star-crossed."

Tyler's words were quiet, yet fierce.

As was her whispered reply. "Yes, we are."

"No." Tyler cupped her face in his hands, compelling her
not to look away. "I love you, Eve, and I think you love me."

"I do."

"Then you must realize our love isn't destined to be held
together by a bridge of feathers. I want to spend my life with you, every day
of my life, for the rest of my life."

"Oh, Tyler. I want that too. But.

"Unless you love Geoffrey more than me, there are no
'buts.'"

Her sad eyes sparked with life—with love—for him. "I don't
love Geoffrey at all! You can't believe I do!"

Tyler smiled. "Then stay with me, Eve, beginning now. I'll be
happy to explain the situation to Geoffrey, or we can do it together."

"It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is. You don't owe him anything, Eve. Not a
thing."

Now it was she who smiled. "Oh, but I do owe Geoffrey. If it
weren't for him, if he hadn't brought me to Hong Kong—"
and imprisoned
me here
"—you and I would never have met."

"We would have met. I've spent my life searching for you, and
would have kept on searching until you were found. I've found you now. We've
found each other. Isn't it time for us to make plans to be together?"

For seven years, because of Geoffrey, Eve's hair had been cropped
short, exposing her face, making her feel naked and vulnerable. Now that face
was framed by gentle hands, and she no longer felt naked, only loved, only
strong. She placed her hands over his, twining her delicate fingers with his
powerful ones, and the determined glimmer in her eyes came from within—a beacon
by which she could see a way to their future... at last.

"Geoffrey cares very much about image. He enjoys our status
as Hong Kong's royal couple. I couldn't leave him and remain in Hong
Kong."

"Then we'll leave Hong Kong. We'll sail until we find a place
we want to live. Or we'll just sail forever."

Was this really happening? Eve wondered. Was she really making
plans for happiness, for love? Yes.
Yes.
Just like Rosalind had. The
thought stunned—and chilled—her. She'd never felt a closeness to the woman
whose appearance she shared. But Rosalind, too, must have discovered Geoffrey's
brutality. She, too, had planned to leave him for someone she loved. Had her
heart sung with joy as she'd made those plans? And had she been so consumed
with happiness she'd told Geoffrey—foolishly believing he'd understand?

He hadn't understood, didn't wish Rosalind happiness. He'd chased
her—and during her frantic flight, she'd died.

"Eve, darling, you look so afraid."

"It's just... I was thinking about Geoffrey. He isn't going
to be gracious about this, Tyler. He doesn't like to lose. I'm not sure he
knows how to."

"That's too bad. Maybe it's time for him to learn."

"Maybe. But Geoffrey can't know anything about us until after
we're gone. He can't even
suspect."

Such secrecy wouldn't have been Tyler's choice. But he wanted no
worries to cloud Eve's vision of their future. "All right. When will we
leave, Evangeline? When will we sail into our dream?"

Tyler knew the answer before she spoke.

"In December."

"After Lily's surgery."

"Yes."

Tyler smiled at the woman who'd made a solemn promise to a little
girl, and who'd never break that promise—nor would he ask her to—even if it
meant postponing her own dreams. They'd leave in three months, a short time,
really, compared to the lifetime of happiness ahead. Still... "I hate the
thought of you living with him until then."

"It doesn't matter." And it didn't. She could endure
anything for three months.
Anything.
But if Tyler knew the truth of her
life with Geoffrey... Eve drew a steadying breath, then lied to the man she
loved. "Except in public, Geoffrey and I live totally separate lives."