TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy) (30 page)

Nodding listlessly,
Mack stands and turns to leave. He takes hold of the door handle, but stops
before he turns it, spinning around to face the Chief. “The Elise Richards’s of
this world are still out there. No one is reading them bedtime stories. Someone
recently told me that the
real monsters
are out there. Looks like
there’s one in here, too.”

Throwing the door
wide open he leaves, making his way down the corridor and back to his corner
office on the sunless side of the building, feeling dispirited and deflated. He
calls out insolently, “See you around,
Sir.”

***

In the blink of an
eye we’re back at our temporary home on our island paradise. I open my eyes to
see scented tea lights arranged around the decking area and a fancy bottle of
something expensive-looking chilling in an ice bucket. It couldn’t be more
romantic.

“Did you arrange
this?” I ask, standing to one side, looking out to sea. 

“Yes. I instructed
the staff to have everything ready for our return. It’s our last night here and
I wanted it to be … unforgettable.” He sniggers, remembering my disapproval of
the word. “But I still have a couple of things up my sleeve.”

I take hold of his
hand. “I’m not sure I can take much more tonight. I’m suffering from surprise
overload.”

“Then perhaps you
should sit down … but before you do, let me look at you.” He edges away from me
to the sofa, removing his jacket and tossing it to one side. He reaches for his
shoes and unties the laces, removes his socks and places them together to the
left of the chair. Unselfconsciously, he spreads himself out, adopting a
familiar pose; arms stretched out across the cushions and his right leg crossed
over his left knee. I don’t think he has ever looked more handsome.

“Ayden …”

“Just stand, Beth.
Please …”

I do, unsure of what
to do with my hands or how to position my feet. He rotates his finger on his
right hand indicating I should turn around. I’m smiling, feeling a little
self-conscious but taking great delight in the pleasure he’s experiencing by
simply looking at me. Adoration is a powerful aphrodisiac.

“Seen enough?” I
enquire, realising I have my thumb nail in my mouth. “I’m getting a backache
standing here in these heels.”

He smirks. ”Wait one
moment. There’s something missing.”

I look down at my
dress; then, as I raise my head, I feel something tumbling gentle down from
above. From somewhere up in the clouds red rose petals are falling, caressing
my bare shoulders, fluttering over my nose, and gathering at my feet until I’m
standing in a circle of of them. I turn my face skyward, enjoying the scented
veil of nature’s bounty as it covers my face and hair.

On hearing Ayden’s
voice I turn to face him.

“O
my Luve is like a red, red rose

   That’s
newly sprung in June;

O
my Luve is like the melody

   That’s
sweetly played in tune.

So
fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

   So
deep in luve am I;

And
I will luve thee still, my dear,

   Till
a’ the seas gang dry.

Till
a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

   And
the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I
will love thee still, my dear,

   While
the sands o’ life shall run.

And
fare thee weel, my only luve!

   And
fare thee weel awhile!

And
I will come again, my luve,

   Though
it were ten thousand mile.”

All
I can do is applaud. “That’s one hell of a trick,” I announce, taking his hand
and stepping clear of the scattering circle of red. “Robert Burns captured the
moment beautifully. Thank you for reciting it.”

“My
pleasure. Take off your shoes.”

I
kick them off and stand next to him, significantly shorter. “Where are we
going?”

“You’ll
see…”

And
I do. On the beach is a four poster bed with white voile curtains tied back at
the corners. “Wow! When did that arrive?” I ask, lifting my dress with my free
hand.

“I
had the staff bring it down to the beach while we were at the theatre. I could
have … arranged it but it would have caused a few unwanted questions. Shall we
go and get comfortable?”

“Yes.
I’d like that.”

The
sand has still retained some of the day’s heat and it’s soft between my toes.
When we reach the bed I notice a glass hurricane jar with a scented pillar
candle and an ice bucket waiting for us at the base.  Inside is a large bottle
of Perrier, sitting beside two crystal tumblers.

I
can’t conceal my surprise. “What! No champagne?” I ask, crawling up on the bed.

“I
think we’ve had enough, don’t you? And, besides, you’ll need a clear head to
appreciate what I have to say.” He smirks, leaving me in no doubt about that.

I
make myself comfortable on the bed; my head nestles into the soft pillow; the
fingers of my left hand are entwined with Ayden’s. “What a wonderful surprise,
Ayden. I’ve never seen so many stars.” I stare up at the millions of pinpricks
twinkling like sequins on a gown.

“You’re
not alone in that respect. Most people’s lives at so cluttered with light and
self-absorption, they seldom look up.”

I
give his hand a squeeze. “Most people could never afford to come to a place
like this.”

“This
is true. But this sky is not the property of the rich and famous, it’s a
universal. One has only to look up to see it.”

I
snigger at the simplicity of his answer. “In that case
I
must have been
too self-absorbed to look up and see it, just like everyone else.”

He’s
smiling and shaking his head. “You were no such thing, darling. You were too
busy looking down, hiding yourself away. That’s an entirely different matter.”

“I
suppose so but I’ve seen it now, thanks to you. Which star are
you,
by
the way?” I ask playfully.”

“Always
the brightest one right above your head, of course,” he says plainly.

”In
that case, I’ll make a point of looking up.”

“Then
this has been a worthwhile journey,” he chortles. “What is it you say? Your
future is written in the stars?”

I’m
nodding. “Yes, … but wasn’t it Shakespeare who said,
‘It is not in the stars
to hold our destiny but in ourselves’?”

He
snickers at my suggestion. “Perhaps … our futures might already be taking shape
up there. Who knows?”

He
pulls me to him and I place my hand on his chest, feeling its heat against my
palm. “I think you do,” I whisper.

“In
that case, why don’t you wish upon a star, the way you used to when you were a
child?”

What?

I
raise my chin to watch him speak. “How do you know I did that?” I ask
curiously.

“Because
I watched you.”

“When
I was a child?”

“Yes.”

I
feel my brows elevating. “All the time?”

He
leans up to kiss my forehead. “Of course not. I was drawn to your sadness and
there were moments when you were understandably distressed. It aggrieved me
that I couldn’t comfort you.” His hand tightens on my shoulder.

“I
had my family around me in the early days but they left me, one after the
other.” Just saying those words causes my throat to constrict.

“They
did nothing of the sort, Beth. Your grandmother was elderly; she had a good
life.”

“And
my mother?”

He
takes a thoughtful breath. “Your mother was terminally ill, darling. Even I
couldn’t help her.”

Help
her?

I
sit up, place my forearm on his chest and face him wide-eyed like an animal
caught in a searchlight. “You knew my mother?”

“I
did. Our paths crossed on several occasions. I was taken with her bravery and
moved by her determination to hold on as long as she could – for you.”

I
cover my trembling lips with my hand.

“I’m
sorry, Beth. I didn’t intend to upset you.” He enfolds me in his arms, keeping
the night air out and my sense of unimaginable loss inside. “You can cry. Don’t
feel you have to be brave on my behalf.” He buries his lips in my hair. “Losing
a loved one is a terrible thing. Losing a mother must be unspeakably painful.”

I
sit up, wipe away my tears with a napkin and turn to him. “What did she say to
you?”

“Do
you really want to know?”

I
nod in reply and focus on his handsome face.

“Alright
then, but, as you know she wasn’t completely lucid at the end; morphine is a
powerful analgesic. In the week before her passing we talked several times.”

My
eyes widen. ”You did?  What did you talk about?” I wipe my nose and sit up on
my knees, rapt.

“About
you. Her wish for you, her love for you and …”

“And
…”

“And
the promise she asked me to make to watch over you.” He cups my face in his
hand. “I could have done so much more but …”

I
pull his palm to my lips. “You did enough. I’m alive aren’t I? There were times
I thought I would die and it was only your intervention that kept me alive. I’m
sure of that.”

I
press my full weight onto his pectorals and cover his lips with mine. “Thank
you. You kept your promise.”

His
kisses me lovingly, but there is little passion. I pull back.

“What’s
wrong?”

“I
can’t explain further without giving you something.” He reaches into his
trouser pocket. “You must close your eyes. Think of your mother and make a
silent wish, and only then, open your eyes.” He holds my attention with an
unwavering stare.

“Alright,
but I don’t need …”

He
places a finger over my lips. “Wish, my darling.”

I
close my eyes and do exactly that. I wish for my mother to be happy wherever
she is; to have found my father and to be proud of me and … there is one other
thing.

I
open my eyes slowly, not knowing what to expect. He is sitting bolt upright.
His left hand rests on my bare shoulder and his other is turned upright into a
closed fist. I gaze into his eyes and see a softness there that comforts me.

“Did
you wish?” he asks in a half whisper.

I
smile. “Yes. I wished.”

“Open
my hand.” He directs me to his right hand, now resting on my knees.

As
I peel back his fingers, I feel a kind of giddy excitement. I’ve had gifts
before but I suspect this will be the gift to outdo everything else. I’m
expecting a piece of heaven or a falling star but what I see is much more
precious.

“Oh!
Ayden!” I cry, recognising it instantly. “It’s my mother’s engagement ring.
Where on earth did you find it?” Scarcely believing my eyes, I hold it up to
the light. It is worth so little in actual money compared to my other jewellery
but that doesn’t detract from its exquisite beauty. “Thank you. It’s what I
wished for.” I place it on my finger and throw my arms around his neck,
peppering his cheeks and chin with kisses. “You’re so wonderful.”

He’s
grinning and trying to hold me off.  “No. You have it all wrong. You have no
idea just how wonderful you are.” He takes hold of my face in his palms to make
the point. “I want to give you everything.”

I
caress his face and brush a curl from his forehead. “You do, Ayden.”

I
settle onto his chest and hold up my right hand still disbelieving I have my
mother’s ring on my finger. Feeling curious, I ask, “Can I ask you where you
found it?”

“It
was concealed in Mr. Rizler’s bag. I simply relieved him of it so it could be
returned to its rightful owner.”

“Well,
thank you. It makes me so happy to see it on my finger. I think my mum will be
smiling down on us.”

“I
think so too. Now let me pour you a celebratory drink and we’ll prepare for the
show.” He reaches for the Perrier, turning the bottle around to face me. “I
believe it’s a very good year. Would Madame care to taste it first?”

He’s
arching his brow, making me giggle. “No thanks. I’ve had that vintage before.
Just pour.”

“Very
well.” We raise our glasses.

“To
unforgettable nights.”

“Absolutely!
I’ll drink to that.”

Still
overjoyed, I sip my water, finding it really refreshing after the earlier wine
with our meal. Picking up on his declaration I ask, “What show? Surely we’re
not going back to Sydney?”