The Sea Hawk (32 page)

"Ladies and gentlemen, the final exhibition this afternoon will be performed by the dressage instructor and owner of Montserrat Farms. She is the winner of numerous national and international competitions and a three-time member of the United States Olympic Dressage Team. Please welcome into the arena,
Mademoiselle
Dhuperior riding Jackson."

The moment she was introduced, the rider walked her sleek, dark brown Arabian, its mane braided along its neck and wrapped in white, into the arena and sat motionless until the applause died away. The rider wore a solid tan riding outfit with a dark brown top hat and riding boots. The horse and rider stood as motionless as a statue while the announcer explained that the snow-white wrappings on the lower portion of the horse's legs helped judges see imperfections in the animal's gait as it moved around the dark earthen floor of the arena. At the end of the explanation, the horse began moving, as if by its own volition, changing its gait into something Julia thought resembled a skip. Turning at the center of the arena, the rider sat ramrod straight and motionless as Jackson moved effortlessly in an oblique line, his front hooves crossing one another to perform the sideways movement, first to the left and then to the right. Julia paid particular attention to the impassive-appearing rider. Her body never moved and no matter how closely she looked, Julia could detect no wrist movements commanding the animal into the next maneuver. Following a fifteen-minute exhibition, the rider stopped her horse facing the audience. In the first discernable movement Julia was able to detect, the rider patted her mount and coaxed him into a bow, bringing appreciative applause from the audience. Grasping her top hat by its rim, the rider removed it and bowed her thanks to the crowd and smiled as she accepted their appreciation.

Julia stopped clapping, gasping when she saw the rider's face fully. A gleaming shock of short black hair combed forward from the crown framed the woman's face. Without an explanation to her companions, Julia stood abruptly, unable to look at the woman a moment longer and left the seating area as quickly as possible. The rider replaced her hat and turned her horse to leave the arena as the remainder of the audience rose to leave their seats.

WHEN FRANKIE AND Danny caught up to Julia, she was bent over the hood of the Jeep, her head resting on her forearms. She felt like she was going to hyperventilate and struggled to control her breath. Frankie's hand on her back startled her.

"Are you all right?" Frankie asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah," Julia answered, fighting to take oxygen deeply into her lungs. "I...I don't know what happened, but I suddenly felt almost claustrophobic in there and had to get out. I'm sorry."

Rubbing a hand gently over Julia's back, Frankie smiled. "The show was over anyway. So at least you didn't miss anything."

"That's good," Julia said.
I'd already seen more than I wanted to.

"I guess you're not planning to come back this evening for the reception then," Danny said.

"What reception?" Julia asked, looking up at Frankie.

"The invitation said there would be an open house and reception later this evening," Frankie said. "You should stay home and get some rest. Skip the free food and booze."

"I'm fine now, but I'm not planning to return for a reception. You two can come back, though. Don't let me spoil your evening."

"Well, actually," Frankie started as she glanced at Danny, "we sort of have other plans for tonight."

Swept by relief, Julia chuckled and patted Frankie on the back. "That's almost too much information, Frankie."

As soon as Danny dropped Julia at her home, she walked to her bedroom and flopped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't get the woman's face out of her mind and was afraid to go to sleep, fearing she would see it again in her dreams. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she sat up and went into her kitchen to prepare something to eat. She needed to do something to stop the thoughts that wouldn't quit running through her brain. She was convinced she might easily go insane. Her thoughts were giving her a headache and whatever was left of her heart would not stop grieving for something that had never been...couldn't have been. Looking down at the snack on her plate, she knew she couldn't live like this anymore. Dark bread, wedges of cheese and fruit were left abandoned as she walked resolutely into her bedroom and changed her clothes.

TURNING HER CAR into the long drive leading to the main house of Montserrat Farms, Julia tried to steel herself to face what awaited her. It would either be nothing or...the impossible. The main house was awash in lights outlining the enclosed porch and eaves. Torches on either side of the walkway and gardens lit her way. Subtle, but elegant Christmas decorations adorned the porch. The front door was open and Julia sucked in a deep breath of fresh cool air before she entered the house. She was greeted immediately by a young woman who offered to take her coat.

She proceeded into the main room which was open and furnished with comfortable looking settees and wing-back chairs. The corner to her right was filled by a beautifully understated Christmas tree that nearly touched the top of the vaulted ceiling. An elegant chandelier brightly lit the entire room. Against the far wall a buffet table was manned by two young men in uncomfortable looking starched white jackets. She scanned the room as she accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter. She closed her eyes as she savored the first taste of an excellent full-bodied burgundy.

Choosing a place near the back of the tree, Julia looked carefully around the small groups of men and women chatting amongst themselves while enjoying their hostess's food and wine. Eventually a man stepped away from a group near the far corner of the room to retrieve wine refills. Then Julia saw her and shrank farther behind the tree. She couldn't take her eyes off the woman. She was dressed in a well-pressed white evening shirt tucked into form fitting black pants which, in turn, were tucked into the tops of the dark brown riding boots she wore during her exhibition. She was breathtakingly handsome. Her arm hung loosely around the shoulders of a young man who appeared to be in his early teens. Curly black hair coiled around his young caramel-colored face. Oh, my God! Can this get any more bizarre than it already is? Julia thought, closing her eyes. She worked to control her rapid breathing and the urge to flee grew overpowering. When she opened her eyes, looking for a quick escape route, they were met by a pair of piercing golden eyes traveling down her body and back to her face again, a slow, crooked smile moving across the woman's lips.

The woman bent slightly and said something to the boy and then bowed to the people surrounding her. Stepping away from the group, she began making her way, panther-like, across the room toward Julia. She needed to flee before the woman reached her and looked quickly to her left and right for an exit. Julia set her wine glass on a small table and darted into a hallway leading from the main room. Glancing over her shoulder she hoped the hallway would lead to the front entryway so she could make her escape. Discovering no exit she stopped in front of a closed door, turned the knob, and stepped quickly inside, closing the door as quietly as possible. She pressed her body against the wall next to the door and held her breath.

The room was dark except for a single small light. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. She blinked several times before glancing around the room for a better place to hide. The room was filled with floor-to-ceiling bookcases on three walls. Portraits in ornate frames filled the majority of the remaining wall space. Across the room she saw a large desk and ran to it, kneeling to hide beneath it. She glanced up to check the door and stopped. The light which partially illuminated the room came from a small spotlight suspended from the ceiling a foot from a large, almost life-sized portrait.

Julia stood and stared at the picture. A moment later she walked slowly around the desk and drew closer to the portrait hanging in front of her. She knew her mouth must have been hanging open in disbelief, but she couldn't drag her eyes away from the stunning picture. Her hand went to her mouth, her eyes burning as they fought back unwanted tears. She stared at the uncanny likeness of herself hanging before her. Her hair was short and reddish-blonde. She wore a floor-length maroon velvet gown with crème inserts down the full-length sleeves. A six-inch strip of intricate black, gold and cream embroidery ran around the bottom of the gown near the hem. A matching crème shawl was draped over her arms and hung loosely down her back. Her hand rested lightly on what appeared to be the banister of a staircase while a coquettish smile played along her lips.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?" an accented voice asked from just inside the door to the room. Flipping on the light switch, the woman looked at Julia.

Turning toward her hostess she demanded, "Is this some kind of sick joke? Where did you get this portrait?"

"I can assure you it is no joke," the woman answered solemnly. She walked closer to the picture and gazed up at it. "This portrait hung in the main room of this house for more years than anyone can remember. I have looked at this woman's face since I was a small child." Her voice dropped to a low, husky semi-whisper as she continued to look at the portrait. "She is so incredibly beautiful. I fell in love with her image and dreamed of meeting her one day." Dropping her eyes to Julia's, she added, "Now at last I have."

"That's not me!" Julia insisted.
It is me! But there is no way anyone could know that!

"Do you...do you know who she is?"

"No one knows with any certainty. The portrait was commissioned by a distant relative of mine and is based on her sketches and memory. We believe she hired a local artist to create it."

"What sketches?"

The woman smiled. "I seem to be getting ahead of myself. If you would be so gracious as to follow me to my office we could continue this discussion,
Mademoiselle
Blanchard," she said in an all too familiar accented voice.

"Please...please don't call me that," Julia said.

"My apologies."

"Don't say that either," Julia said more forcefully than she intended.

Clearing her throat, the woman looked down, but continued to smile. Finally she stepped back to the door and opened it. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Simone Dhuperior, the owner of Montserrat Farms."

Julia turned reluctantly away from the portrait and followed Simone into the hallway, no longer intent on fleeing. She felt Simone's hand against the small of her back and let her hostess guide her back into the main room.

Catching the attention of the boy she had been with earlier, she motioned for him to join her. He smiled as he crossed the room and stood next to Simone. She looked at him affectionately and said, "Dr. Blanchard, this is my stepson, Robert." The French pronunciation. How appropriate, Julia thought. As they shook hands, Simone said, "Robert, would you please go to my room and bring my great aunt's journal to my office?"

"Of course, Simone. If you will excuse me, Dr. Blanchard," Robert bowed as he turned to leave.

"He's a very handsome young man," Julia commented.

"Thank you. He is my partner's son. She passed away a few years ago and left me as his guardian. He has been a handful from time to time," Simone chuckled.

She took Julia by the elbow and led her down a hallway toward another room. Opening the door for her, Simone stepped inside behind her and closed the door. Looking intently at Julia, she asked, "Do you believe in reincarnation, Dr. Blanchard?"

"No."

"Nor do I, but I am certain you are the woman in that portrait who has been haunting my dreams for as long as I can remember." Turning away from Julia and leaning against the edge of her desk, Simone shook her head and said, "I will tell you what I know, but you must agree to hear me out."

Julia glanced around the handsomely decorated office. The walls were lined with trophies and framed awards, all speaking of the obvious successes of Montserrat Farms over the years. Behind the polished walnut desk, Julia saw a glass case holding a single pewter statue. She could barely breathe as she looked at the small statue of the horse, its front legs pawing at the air as it stood on its hind legs.

"Where did you get that statue?" Julia asked in a whisper.

"It has been in my family for generations. If you will have a seat, Dr. Blanchard, I will explain in a moment."

As Simone Dhuperior paused and looked at her, Julia nodded. She leaned back into a maroon velvet-covered wingback chair; Simone sat behind her desk. "The story is this, Dr. Blanchard. Montserrat Farms was established around 1816 by a distant relative, a great-great-great aunt named Simone Moreau. It was rumored she may have been a pirate at one time. Probably nothing more than the ramblings of an old woman nearing the end of her life and then passed down as if a legend. However she arrived here, she founded this farm to breed and train Arabian horses. She never married and, in fact, is buried in the family cemetery on this farm. She is the distant relative who commissioned the portrait of you." Simone held up a hand as Julia opened her mouth to protest. "Or a woman who looks remarkably like you."

Clearing, her throat and staring intently at Julia, Simone continued in a softer voice. "I do not know very much about the woman, but she left behind a journal and that small statue. Over the years, some parts of her journal have been lost or damaged. They lend some credence to the idea she was a pirate. All I know for certain from the journal is that she loved but one person more deeply than anything I could ever imagine. Another woman, whose name was Julia. She never wrote her lover's last name in the journal. The last portion of the journal is a heartbreaking account of losing her lover at sea. Her grief is overwhelming. I would have thought nothing more of what was written in the journal, but your disappearance and survival at sea was covered in depth by the local newspapers. A picture of you accompanied the stories. Quite by accident I also read the articles about the shipwreck you were excavating. When I saw your picture I knew I had to meet and speak with you.
You
excavated the shipwreck,
your
name is Julia, the woman in the portrait could be
you
now. I thought I must surely be imagining it all, but the idea that these things are coincidences or random chance does not sit well with me."