Upon a Mystic Tide (46 page)

Bess stared out the turret room window, watching the afternoon sun sparkle like diamonds on the ocean. The tears blurring her eyes slipped down her face, and she folded her arms over her chest, warning herself to bury the pain, to bury it deep inside. It didn’t stop. Disgusted with herself, she ached to the marrow of her bones.

Why had she done it? Pretended the gearshift had jammed? Why had she deceived John? Why hadn’t he seen the action for the symbol it’d been?

It’d been a snap decision, and those always brought about regret. She’d known better, and yet the idea of leaving him again had made her feel frozen inside. She couldn’t touch that gearshift. Knowing it was wise, that by not touching it, she was dooming them both to more pain, she still could not do it.

And so she’d lied. She’d done the very thing to John that she’d so strongly objected to him doing. And, might as well call a spade a spade, she’d done it for one reason: she loved him. She still loved him.

She looked down at her wedding band and again remembered the promise she’d made him on their wedding day. She’d vowed never to take off his ring. That promise, she could keep. She never would take it off. Even after the divorce, she never would.

Permitting herself one last sniff, she dried her eyes and opened the window. The sounds of the sea would soothe her, and looking out on the horizon, seeing infinity, would help her gain perspective. It had so often since she’d come here. Today she’d lacked the courage to do what was best for both her and John. Maybe the constancy of the ocean’s tide, the rhythm of it, would help her find her own rhythm. Maybe its steady waves would carry on them acceptance. And maybe then she would have the strength to do what she had to do.

John lightly tapped
on the Great White Room’s heavy door.

Bess didn’t answer, but the door opened, its hinges not making the slightest creak. He walked into the room and saw her standing on the little braided rug in the adjoining turret room, her arms folded over her chest, staring out the open window at the sea, the sheer white curtains billowing in the breeze. She didn’t know he was there, he realized, and stopped to just look at her. Wisps of her hair blew free in the wind, and her face was red, her eyes slightly swollen and too bright.

She cried.

For them.

A tender hitch formed in his heart then spread warmth through his chest. God, she was beautiful. So beautiful. And so fragile. How many times he must have hurt her
 . . .

He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer.
Please, please, give me one more chance with her. I’m going to tell her everything. Everything. Please, don’t let me lose her, too.

When he opened his eyes, Bess was looking at him. He didn’t know what to say. How to start baring his soul. He’d been concealing all his life, and he was damn good at it. But he didn’t know how to be open, and to tell her the truth.

“I know nothing is wrong with the car, Jonathan.”

Jonathan.
Not
John
but
Jonathan.
He nodded, afraid to say anything for fear she’d stop talking. “The gearshift wasn’t stuck.” She lowered her gaze to his chest. “I lied.”

His heart rate doubled. “Why?”

She looked down at her hands. “Because I didn’t want to leave.”

She wears your ring.

Memory. Not Tony. Memory. John looked at Bess’s left hand. It was there. His ring was still there. “Why didn’t you want to leave?”

She shrugged. “I’m a glutton for punishment, is all I can figure.”

He nearly smiled. “Is that why you didn’t go to Little Island with me? Because you’re a glutton for punishment?”

She sighed then sat down on the window seat, her spine stiff, her hands folded in her lap. “No.”

He walked over, stopped on the braided rug, then looked down on her bent head. “Can you tell me why?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Please.”

She looked up at him, her face still tear-streaked, though she’d stopped crying. “I didn’t want either of us to go out there.”

That he hadn’t expected. “Why?”

“Because my instincts told me the woman buried out there was Dixie. And I knew that once you solved the case, you wouldn’t need me anymore.”

“Why would you think that?” Amazing conclusion. But where the hell had it come from?

“Because you wouldn’t feel like a failure anymore, and you wouldn’t need to prove anything with me.”

More than amazing. Baffling. “I thought you refused because you didn’t trust my judgment.”

“I trusted your judgment. Our instincts agreed.”

He could stop there, but if this was to be a baring of souls, he wanted it done right the first time. Once was hard enough. “And I thought you’d compared me and your sorry Spaniard, and he’d won.”

She shook her head and flushed guiltily. “He’s just a friend, Jonathan. I should’ve told you that before. But
 . . .
”

“You liked seeing me jealous.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but paused, then told him the truth. “Wicked of me, but, yes, I did.”

“Why?”

Again she dropped her gaze, this time to his waist. “Because it showed me that you weren’t indifferent.”

He smiled, though she didn’t see it. “No, I’m not indifferent. Not about anything when it comes to you.”

Her fingers were laced, and she started wringing her hands. “I wanted to come first with you. Never in my whole life have I come first with anyone, or felt loved unconditionally. My parents loved me, but they never liked me. I was too exuberant, too demonstrative, too emotional. I embarrassed them.”

“So you buried the parts of you that they objected to, hoping that then they would love you unconditionally.”

“You would have, too, if your parents looked straight through you as if you weren’t there, and didn’t speak so much as a single word to you for a month at a time.”

He didn’t know what to say. He’d had no idea that they’d ever done anything like that to her. They’d spent time with her parents, and he’d never seen any signs of friction or tension, or
 . . .
he thought back. Or signs of any affection. None.

How could he not have seen that?

Bess’s gaze dropped lower, to his knees, then to his shoes. “That’s why getting to know your parents meant so much to me, Jonathan. I wanted to see if maybe I—” She hushed and shook her head. “It was a silly notion.”

“I had no idea, honey.” Tony had told him to ask her about the facade. And he’d meant to, but he’d gotten sidetracked. There was a lesson there. One he now considered learned.

She blinked hard and fast, and raised her gaze to his. “Your parents disowned you because you married me and I wasn’t wealthy, didn’t they?”

“What?”
He hadn’t meant to shout but, she’d surprised him. Where in the name of God could she have gotten that idea?

“You were ashamed of me.”

“No! Never!” He dropped to his knees in front of her and clasped her arms. “God, Bess, I wasn’t. I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she whispered, looking ready to break.

“I’m not. Honey, I was ashamed, but not of you. Never of you.”

She stared at him, waiting for an explanation. And the time definitely had come for one. Good God, all this time she’d thought he’d been ashamed of her? Because she wasn’t wealthy—

A truth hit him with the force of a thunderbolt. “That’s why you wouldn’t touch our money. You thought my parents saw you as some type of fortune-hunter and in taking the money, you’d prove them right. So you refused to touch it to prove them wrong.”

“They were wrong. I never cared about the money, Jonathan. I loved you.”

“Then,” he said softly, the puzzle pieces sliding into place. “You loved me, then.”

“Yes.” She drew in a breath that heaved her narrow shoulders. “Then.”

He cupped a hand to her cheek. “You’re so wrong about all this. I was heartless not to explain. I’m sorry, Bess. I can’t take the hurt I’ve caused you away, but I’m going to tell you the truth so you don’t hurt over this anymore.”

He paused to collect his thoughts, to look into her eyes once more before they filled with disgust. “Selena doesn’t know what I’m about to tell you. I don’t want her ever to know it. I’m trusting you, Bess. I’ve never in my life trusted anyone, but I’m trusting you.”

“I won’t tell her, or anyone else, Jonathan. I swear it.”

He steeled himself for her response, knowing it’d hurt like hell no matter what he did. “Grace and Mitchell Mystic are dead.”

“Who?”

“My parents.” He swallowed hard. “Selena thinks they died when she was three, but they didn’t. They decided they were tired of being parents and just walked out.”

“But you were so little!”

He had been. But he’d been determined. “For three days, I wouldn’t accept it, that they weren’t coming back. Then I called Uncle Max. I don’t know what would have happened to us if he hadn’t taken us in.”

Too wired to crouch, Jonathan stood up and paced. “We never saw them again.”

“How do you know they’re dead?”

“After they died, a lawyer called Uncle Max. He told me. Selena was so little she didn’t remember them ever being alive. We decided it was best left that way. I knew they were dead, but I didn’t know how they’d died. Uncle Max had said a tragic accident, but he couldn’t lie any better than you.”

“You found out.”

Jonathan nodded. “Yes, I did. But I wished I hadn’t.”

“Whatever it is, Jonathan, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters.” He paced from the bed back to the braided rug, then stopped. “They were in a cult situation, Bess. They committed suicide. They must have seen it coming and had an attack of conscience, because shortly before their deaths is when they went to the lawyer and willed their worldly goods to Selena and me.”

And he would have traded their fortunes for a simple smile. For a single
dear heart.

“I’m sorry, darling.” Bess looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

Bess’s tears. God, nothing could get to him like Bess’s tears. He stiffened against them, against the pity he saw in her eyes. “So you see, you were wrong, Bess. I
was
ashamed. But not of you. I was ashamed of me.”

“Why?” She jumped to her feet.

A bolt of pain rammed through him, so intense he mentally staggered. “My own parents couldn’t love me. Didn’t you hear me? My own parents
 . . .
”

She clasped his arms and squeezed, digging her fingertips into his flesh. “No. This isn’t about you, Jonathan. It wasn’t about you. They got caught up in this cult thing. It was them, not you.”

He clenched his jaw. “They walked out on me.”

“And then I did, too.” Her chin quivered. She worried her lip, trying to hide it, but tears sheened her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. If it helps, know that I walked out because I loved you. Maybe they did, too. Maybe they had misgivings about taking you with them into that kind of life. Maybe they knew you’d be better off with Max than with them. Just as you knew learning the truth would hurt Selena. You couldn’t risk telling me about them for fear she’d find out and she’d feel . . . unloveable. Isn’t that right?”