Across the River of Yesterday (4 page)

Serena felt a wild surge of joy. To belong to Gideon would be to belong to gentleness, laughter and beauty. Then her spirits plummeted. It wasn’t possible. Sin. She couldn’t take any more than she already had from Gideon. “No, I can’t …”

“Hush.” He placed two fingers over her lips to silence her. “I know you’re not ready to think about any of this yet, but I wanted you to know how I felt. I’m not going to push you. You’ve still got some growing up to do, and I have to make enough money to keep us comfortable. But after all that’s taken care of, we’ll be together. It’s important we both know that’s going to happen.”

Serena felt her throat tighten painfully. In a way this pain was worse than what she had undergone before. “Gideon, there’s no way.”

“There’s always a way. We’ll just have to find it.” His fingers moved from her lips to cover her eyes. “I’ll start working on it in the morning. Go to sleep now.”

He wouldn’t listen. He was already assuming control with the loveable autocracy she was beginning to recognize as a primary element of his character.

He never stops. Not ever. Ross’s word came back to her and she felt a wild surge of regret and despair. He would face that ugliness and try to conquer it, but she couldn’t stand that to happen.

“You’re worrying again.”

She shook her head. “No, not really.”

“Then what are you thinking about?”

“Your Hopi Indian friends.” Now. Snatch joy and safety now, for it might be a long time before she felt this happy again. “Tell me how you came to know them. Tell me all the places you’ve been and the people you’ve met and … oh, everything.”

“Bedtime stories?” He laughed softly. “Okay. I guess I can think of some that aren’t X-rated. I’ve done most everything at one time or another, from riding the rodeo circuit to roughing it on an oil rig. I never finished high school so I had to stick to what I knew. Once when I was about your age I got a job on a freighter to the South Seas and …” His voice murmured on, spinning stories, sharing experiences, giving her glimpses into a life rich with color and the sheer joy of living.

He finally stopped and she could sense him looking down at her. She knew he thought she had fallen asleep. He carefully settled her closer against him and she felt again the gossamer touch of his lips against her forehead. She didn’t move and kept her eyes firmly closed. Soon she felt his long, lean body relax and the sound of his breathing. He was asleep.

Serena’s eyes opened and she stared unseeingly into the darkness.

The rain had stopped by the time the gray of predawn touched the horizon. Serena paused in the doorway to look back at Gideon still asleep in the big double bed. His tawny hair was rumpled on the pillow and he was sprawled like a weary
little boy tucked into bed after a long day at play. She experienced a moment of maternal tenderness before she forced herself to turn and walk quickly across the hall. She hurriedly slipped on Ross’s khaki shorts, but left on the blue shirt in which she had slept. It belonged to Gideon and surely it wouldn’t hurt to keep a remembrance.

She had to try two doors along the corridor before she found Ross’s room. She moved quietly across the shadowy room to stand beside his bed. “Ross?”

The figure beneath the sheets growled, mumbled and then raised himself on one elbow. “Serena?”

“I want you to take me back to the waterfront,” Serena said quietly. “Now.”

“The hell you do.” He sat up and the sheet fell to his waist to reveal a brawny hair-roughened chest. “Gideon would cut my throat if I took you back to that bar.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Why would I want to go back there? I wandered in there by mistake and …” She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “I just want you to take me to the waterfront and drop me off. I’d walk, but I don’t have any shoes and I’m not sure of the way.”

“Just drop you off.” Ross’s lips twisted. “Drop you on the streets of one of the wickedest cities in the Caribbean, barefoot and with no place to go.”

“I have a place to go.”

“Then wake up Gideon and tell him about it.”

“I can’t.” She moistened her lower lip with her tongue. “You remember what you said about Gideon not having made up his mind about me yet?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think he’s made it up now.”

Ross’s dark eyes narrowed on her face. “So?”

“It’s impossible.”

“Gideon doesn’t understand the meaning of the word.”

“Ross.” She swallowed and then drew a deep breath, “I’m married.”

He went still. Then he gave a long, low whistle. “Trouble.”

She shook her head, blinking rapidly to keep back the tears. “Please, I don’t want to hurt Gideon. I’m all right now. It will be perfectly safe to take me back.”

“To your husband?”

She closed her eyes for a fraction of a moment and then opened them again. They held only sadness and determination. “To my husband.”

He hesitated. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then I’ll take you. Go on downstairs and wait in the jeep while I get dressed.”

She turned away.

“You know this probably won’t do you a damn bit of good. Gideon’s not going to give up.”

“He’ll give up.” Serena started for the door.

She heard a sharp bark of laughter behind her. “You don’t know him at all if you think that.” His voice was soft and slightly amused. “Tell me, Serena, did you ever drink the rest of the orange juice?”

She paused, her hand closing on the door knob. “That was different.”

“Was it?” The amusement deepened. “I’ll do what you ask, but don’t think running away will do you any good if Gideon decides he wants to find you.”

She drew a shaky breath and opened the door. “Please hurry. I want to be gone before Gideon wakes up.” She closed the door behind her and walked quickly down the hall toward the curving staircase.

“Now, don’t get excited.” Dane’s voice was soothing. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Serena Spaulding counted to five. “What do you mean, it’s not as bad as it sounds?” She pronounced every word distinctly into the telephone receiver. “How could it be worse? You tell me you’ve been flung into a Latin American jail on a drug charge, and that they’re threatening to throw away the key and forget you ever existed. Sounds fairly serious to me.”

“But it’s all a mistake. You know I’m not into drugs. I think
they
even know it’s a mistake, but they want to save face by putting on a big show of authority. All you have to do is come down and vouch for my character and they’ll release me into your custody.”

“Dane, they don’t put people into jail and then release them so easily. I’d better call the American Consulate.”

“No!” Dane’s voice was suddenly sharp. “You know the first thing they’ll do is call Mother and she’ll call—” He broke off. “Look, it’s very simple. I’ll be off this island within a day, if you’ll just come down and sign their damn papers. I tell you, they know they’re in the wrong. I’m not even in a regular jail. They’ve put me up in a fancy hotel and they’re wining and dining me as if I were a VIP. They even sent me a call girl last night. Does that sound like you’re going to run into any trouble?”

“No.” Serena wearily rubbed her temple. It sounded absolutely crazy, but what else could she expect from her brother? He had fallen into one brouhaha after another from the day he had discovered how amusing life could be if you didn’t conform to any of the rules. And she had found it amusing, too, she admitted to herself. Involving herself in Dane’s occasional adventures lent a badly needed touch of color to her life, to the regime of hard work and self-discipline she imposed upon herself. There was no question that Dane provided plenty of that color. However, he had never been thrown into prison before. She had a sudden memory of a horrifying film she had seen on television about a young man who had been arrested in Turkey on a drug charge. But this wasn’t Turkey, she assured herself quickly, this was … Lord, she didn’t even know where he was. “Dane, where the devil are you?”

There was a crackling on the line and then Dane’s voice came clearly. “Just contact Colonel Pedro Mendino when you arrive. They have me quartered at the Hotel Cartagena.”

“All right, I’ll come right away, but where
are
you, dammit?”

“I told you. I’m in Mariba, Castellano. I have to hang up now. See you soon.”

Mariba. Serena slowly replaced the receiver. The shock that had rippled through her was totally irrational. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard the name many times in the last ten years. Castellano was a hotbed of drug-running and smuggling and lately had been in the news constantly because of a revolutionary group challenging the military junta that governed the island.

She had simply grown accustomed to thinking of Mariba through a kind of dreamlike haze, which had nothing to do with her present existence. Now, abruptly, it was no longer far away. Her brother was imprisoned under wildly improbable circumstances, and she was going to return there after ten years.

She closed her eyes and drew a long quivering breath. Why was that night in Mariba suddenly so alive for her again? There had been months when she had forgotten about it entirely, and when she did remember, it was as if she were watching a film starring another woman entirely. The woman she was now bore no resemblance to the frightened girl who had clung to a stranger all through a long, stormy night. Ghosts. The girl she had been was a phantom, and so were Gideon Brandt and Ross Anders and the ramshackle ruin of a house on the outskirts of Mariba. None of it existed for her any longer. There was only the hard-won reality of the life she had created for herself. Was Gideon still there? The chances were very
slim; he had been a wanderer and Castellano was not a place where anyone stayed for long. He probably was somewhere on the other side of the world, regarding the memory of their night together with the same remoteness she did. If he remembered her at all.

She turned briskly away from the phone. She’d have to close up the cottage and pack tonight. Tomorrow on the way to the airport she would stop at the bank and take out a sizeable amount of money and put it into traveler’s checks. The situation in Mariba sounded weird in the extreme. Those papers Dane’s jailers wanted her to sign very likely would have a high price tag, if everything she had heard about the government of Castellano were true.

“I think we’re going in the wrong direction,” Serena repeated, leaning forward to tap the taxi driver on the shoulder. “Perhaps you didn’t understand me, it’s the Cartagena Hotel and I’m sure we passed it five minutes ago. I saw a sign—”

“Si, the Hotel Cartagena.” The driver smiled over his shoulder, his white teeth gleaming below his wide black mustache. “We are going in the right direction. You will see.” The cab suddenly leaped forward as he pressed the accelerator. “I will get you there pretty damn quick.”

“Not too quick,” Serena said dryly as she leaned back in the seat. “I’d prefer to get there in one piece.” Maybe there were two Hotel Cartagenas. It didn’t seem likely in a town the size of Mariba,
but the driver seemed very sure there was no mistake.

She opened her soft leather bag, took out a linen handkerchief and dabbed at her forehead. Heavens, it was hot. She would have to pick a taxi with no air conditioning. Not that she’d had much choice. There had only been two taxis available at the taxi stand at the airport, and she supposed she should be grateful to get transportation at all. Castellano’s raffish reputation didn’t foster it as a tourist spot, and she had seen larger private airports in the States.

Maybe she
had
been the one making the mistake. She had seen Mariba only at night and the town seemed totally unfamiliar to her in daylight, and there was no question she had been tense and on edge since the moment the small propeller plane had landed. It was idiotic to be so nervous, she assured herself. She would sign the papers, pay the bribe, and she and Dane would be off this island tomorrow.

“Right ahead,” the driver said cheerfully. “I told you it would be pretty damn …” He trailed off as he stopped before a wrought-iron gate and blew the horn. The gates began to swing open slowly. “Electric. Pretty damn neat, huh?”

“Very neat.” Serena’s lips curved in amusement. Modern technology had evidently come even to Castellano. In this case, efficiency had not been allowed to interfere with the exquisite workmanship of the gates. They closed behind them with a quiet
swoosh
and the taxi started up the tree-lined drive.

The gardens of the hotel were really lovely. Beautifully
manicured lawns unfolded before her like a bolt of emerald velvet, orderly beds of tropical flowers bloomed with vivid color, and Jasmine trees were bowed with fragrant white blossoms. If the hotel was as beautiful as its grounds, Dane must be very comfortable.…

She drew in her breath so sharply it made her dizzy. They had rounded the curve and a two-story house stood before them. Red tiled roof, gleaming white stucco walls, a fountain spraying sparkling water set in a patio. It was all crazily familiar. A dog should be barking, she thought half hysterically. It should be dark, not daylight and Frank should be running.…

“We are here.” The driver drove up before the front door with a little flourish.

“This is no hotel.” Her lips felt as if they didn’t belong to her. “You’ve brought me to the wrong place.”

The driver got out of the car and hurried around to open the door for her. “It is a little surprise. The Texan wants to see you.”

“The Texan,” she repeated numbly. “And just who is the Texan?”

“Gideon. Who else?” Ross Anders stepped out of the shadows of the front door alcove. “Hello, Serena. How are you?” His dark eyes went over her admiringly. “Besides being very beautiful, very elegant, and very sophisticated?”

“Fine.” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Just fine. How are you?” He looked very much the same as the last time she had seen him. There was a little more gray in his hair and he was wearing a steel-gray business suit that fit his blocky
form with tailored elegance. She automatically identified it: Saville Row.