Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 (16 page)

“Sightseeing. I thought you’d enjoy going over to the mainland, maybe shop. Then I’d like to take you to lunch at my favorite place. So hurry. I’ve got a nice day planned for us.”

He started from the room but turned as she called to him. “Bryan, thank you, but I’m not ready yet. I still need some time alone, and—”

“No!” For the first time he spoke harshly to her, and his blue eyes became dark, stormy. “I’m not going to let you make my mistake, Jade. You’re not going to continue to wallow in self-pity behind closed doors and pulled drapes. Your husband is dead. As is my wife. We’ve got to get on with our lives. The way they’d want us to. Now meet me at the dock in an hour, or so help me, I’ll come up here and drag you out in your gown and robe.”

He walked out and slammed the door behind him, the sharp sound punctuating his ultimatum. Jade stared after him in wonder. She’d never known him to be anything but sweet and gentle and kind, and now he was giving orders, raising his voice. It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t ready yet, would know instinctively when she was, and, till then, did not want to be told what to do. Of course, this was his home, and she was a guest. No doubt her pining away in her room was disconcerting, as her presence must be. Bryan’s grief was not that ancient. How long had it been since he’d lost Marnia? Not quite four months? She shook her head. Only two weeks since her tragic loss, so how could he expect her to venture out? But he’d said he wasn’t going to let her make his mistake by wallowing in self-pity. Perhaps that’s what she was doing. Perhaps it was time to get on with her life, as Colt would want her to.

She ate her breakfast quickly, dressed, and in less than an hour was on her way to the dock.

Bryan was waiting with a smile to help her up the gang plank. She exchanged polite greetings with the crew, then went with Bryan to stand at the railing while they made their way through the channel toward the capital town of Hamilton.

As the sleek blue-and-white boat sliced efficiently through azure waters, Bryan explained that the large lagoons known as Great Sound, Harrington Sound Castle Harbour, and St. George’s Harbour had made Bermuda a haven for boating, despite the submerged reefs he’d told her about previously.

“There are no rivers or lakes,” he pointed out. “That’s why we collect rainwater for our drinking water, and, thanks to an Englishman named Harry Watlington, there’s decent water for domestic purposes. He was knighted for his discovery of the fact that wells could be drilled into the hillsides, and by branching them off horizontally, he could draw out a fresher water than what floats on the brackish water underground. It’s known as ‘Watlington Water’.

Jade was impressed with his historical knowledge of the island and said so. Modestly, he told her he’d made it his hobby to learn as much about the area as possible, had spent countless hours doing research in old archives and records. “Call it the boredom of the idle rich, if you will,” he said and laughed.

The language of the islands was English, with a distinctive Bermudian dialect, and Bryan said he had encountered a number of descendants of the originally indentured Portuguese who still spoke their native tongue. Most of them were farmers, did not carry on business in town, so there was no language barrier to be concerned about.

They reached Hamilton, and the dock was a busy place, with large ships from all over the world in port to trade. Jade stared wistfully at one that reminded her of the
Le Paris
; she wondered if the Coltranes had heard about the tragedy yet, whether Travis had withstood the shock. And what about Dani? Bless her heart, she’d thought she could die in peace, assured that her baby had godparents. What would happen now? It would soon be time for the baby to be born, and Jade would never know how things turned out, though she prayed all would be well, that she and Colt would not have been needed.

Bryan took her to the Sessions House for a quick tour to see the high clock tower, where the Supreme Court and House of Assembly met. They stopped to watch construction of the mammoth Gothic Bermuda Cathedral of the Most Holy Trinity, built of stones from five countries and scheduled to be dedicated in another year.

Bryan engaged a taxi, a small carriage with only two large wheels, a leather bucket seat to the rear, and a high bench for the driver to perch over a sleepy-eyed donkey. They rode through quaint, narrow, cobblestoned streets to Spanish Point, and Bryan, a gleam in his eye, pointed out a wooden stool on a pavilion. “There’s where I’ll send you, fair lady, if I ever hear you gossiping. That’s known as the ‘ducking stool’, and back in the 1600s, overzealous gossips were tied to it and dunked in the ocean while everybody watched and laughed.”

Jade gave a sniff of pretended indignance and caustically remarked, “Everyone knows men are bigger gossips than women.” Suddenly, gratefully, she realized that her ability to be humorous meant she was overcoming her resentment of being forced to leave the sanctity of her private world of grief. She silently acknowledged it was good to be out in the world again, see people, do things. Her family would be shocked that she was not adhering to the decorum of one year in mourning, which meant wearing black and not being seen in public, except on the way to church. Jade, however, felt no guilt. She followed her own codes, not society’s, and the reason she’d been keeping to herself was one of choice, not protocol.

At Spanish Rock, Jade and Bryan together read the inscription on it, dated 1543, proving that the Spaniards had actually landed in Bermuda before the islands were discovered by Sir George Somers.

Toward noon, they reached the small town of St. George, where Bryan knowingly called out the intriguing names of narrow lanes and alleyways—Featherbed Alley, Thread and Needle Alley, Shinbone Alley, Petticoat Lane, Old Maid’s Lane, and One Gun Lane. Bordering them were quaint, pastel-hued houses.

“This is my favorite restaurant in all of Bermuda,” Bryan said as he directed the driver to turn into One Gun Lane.

They stopped before a small stone house that looked nothing like a place to eat. Curious, Jade allowed Bryan to lead her up a narrow path lined with peonies and daisies. They reached a wrought-iron gate and inside, around a curving wall, they were greeted by a cozy little garden, with tables and umbrellas situated amidst the flowers. Bryan ordered wine, and a shrimp salad for both, and Jade admitted it was truly a wonderful, secret place, and the food superb.

Before leaving to return to his island, Bryan took her to Somers Garden, where he walked her into an eerie, tree-shrouded cemetery. Jade was not pleased, did not want to be in such a place, tried to pull way, but he insisted, eyes twinkling. “Come along. I’ve got to show you something.” He pointed to a tiny marker that declared that here was buried the heart of Sir George Somers. “His heart was buried here, but his body was taken back to England, preserved in a keg of rum. I think that’s what I want to do, have my heart buried on my island, my body taken to New York to be interred with the rest of the family.”

Jade shuddered but granted it was a novel idea, albeit morbid.

“We all have to die,” he said softly, slipping a comforting arm about her. “Maybe if we thought about it more, talked about it, it wouldn’t seem so awesome, something to dread so. It’d seem like a natural part of living.”

She thought that might be true but was hot in the mood to discuss such a theory. “I’m tired. Can we go home now?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course.” He began to walk her back toward the waiting carriage. “You know, you’re so much like Marnia sometimes that if I went back to my hard-drinking days, I’d probably think you were her. She had the same reaction the first time I brought her here, didn’t think it was such a great sightseeing idea, either, but later, when we’d bring friends with us from New York, she’d say they had to see where Somers’ heart was buried.”

Suddenly, the question that had been burning inside Jade for so long erupted. She stopped walking, turned to look up at him and bluntly ask, “How is it that you’re able to speak so easily about Marnia, Bryan? You say her name with a caress, yet lightly, casually. There’s no hint of sorrow or pain or any of the things I feel when I speak of Colt.” She blinked away the inevitable tears as she waited for him to respond.

He stared down at her searchingly, as though striving for the perfect words to explain, then sighed and confessed, “To be honest with you, Jade, it’s an act. It still hurts like hell. Inside. But I started pretending for your sake. I’d swallow around the lump in my throat, thinking if you saw me starting to get over the same thing you were going through, it’d make you stronger. It was hard as hell, because I was blinking away tears, too, that I wouldn’t let you see. Then it got easier.” He gave her a sad smile, caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “I’ll help you do the same…if you’ll let me.”

She did not reply, but that day Jade took her first step back into the real world and away from the past. There were other sightseeing trips, to Somerset, west of Hamilton, where they saw the famed Cathedral Rocks, erosion by wind and sea creating arches in the coral rocks resembling cathedral arches. They also visited Gunpowder Cavern, with rooms and tunnels covering almost thirty thousand feet.

But sightseeing and learning about the Bermudas were not the only outings Bryan directed for Jade. He began to coax her to go with him to visit the many friends he and Marnia had made during their numerous stays at their island. The people, some native dignitaries, some British government officials and diplomats, were genial and polite, but Jade could not help noticing a few raised eyebrows at their social ventures. Beforehand, they had discussed between them that it was best not to tell anyone how she came to be with him, for too many questions would be asked that might intrude upon her privacy. But they all knew Bryan was recently widowed, and seeing him in the company of a lovely young lady, even just for tea or a light supper, much less as his house guest, was not exactly expected or looked upon with approval. By way of explanation, he told them she was a distant cousin. Jade doubted anyone believed him, felt a twinge of guilt at how she didn’t really care and doubted he did, either.

They spent time apart, also. Sometimes Jade did not go with Bryan to the mainland but would stay behind at the house, reading from the vast library in his suite or puttering with the herb garden he’d entrusted to her care after teaching her what she needed to know. There were quiet times, too, when she would slip off by herself to sit in a tranquil cove to watch the gently lapping waves upon the pink-tinged sand and listen to the melodies of the tropical birds in the swaying palms above.

The days melted into weeks, and the weeks slipped by, and then Jade saw a calendar one day and realized with a start that she’d been on the island almost two months. “Where did the time go?” she said to Bryan. “I thought time was standing still, and it’s been flying away.”

He hugged her in that friendly, almost fatherly way she’d come to accept. “That’s because you’ve been too busy being happy to notice. That’s what the islands will do for you—give you happiness…and life. I came here to end mine, and I feel like I’ve been born again. My God…” He shook his head in wonder. “I don’t think I ever want to go back to New York. I think I want to stay here forever.”

“Won’t you eventually have to go back?” she wanted to know. It seemed strange that so wealthy a man could just walk away from all his responsibilities and not look back.

“I’ve got good people looking after my affairs,” he reminded her, “and I’ll still make the journey back to check on things now and then, but not for a while. I’m too happy here with you.”

When he spoke like that, Jade felt very strange. She knew he cared for her, and as more than just a friend. She could sense it as only a woman can. But, she asked herself, how did
she
feel? Dear God, she wasn’t sure. It had been much easier just to absorb the beauty and peace of the islands and not dwell on anything so complex. Bryan was a wonderful man, and she was quite fond of him, found him terribly attractive, but somehow she knew the time was not right to open her heart to another and, painfully, wondered if such a time would ever come.

One evening Bryan announced he had a surprise for her. “We’re going somewhere you’ve never been before.” He rummaged in Marnia’s closet and brought out what looked like a large square of silk material and spread it across the bed.

Jade stared at the brightly colored fabric—red, blue, green, and yellow. “It looks like a native costume.”

‘‘It is.’’

She picked up the garment, felt the elegant material. “The native girls I’ve seen wear cotton or muslin. This is imported.”

“That was Marnia,” he said easily. “She wasn’t about to wear something ordinary. She liked to go to native gatherings but wanted to be her own person, so when she saw this on a trip we made to Nassau, she bought it. Amelia will show you how to wrap it around you. There’s a special way of wrapping your hair, too.”

Jade was truly curious. “But where are we going?”

He winked. “You’ll see.”

Amelia was no help, either, when she came in to drape the rich, lustrous material around Jade’s body. Refusing to answer her questions, Amelia commanded that she stand in the center of the room, arms straight out to her side, while Amelia expertly “made” her costume. Then she fixed a turbanlike wrap atop her head and stood back to admiringly declare, “Beautiful. The lady is even more beautiful than the one who wore this last.”

Jade let the remark pass without comment. She’d grown used to Amelia’s constant reminders that she wholeheartedly approved of her as a replacement for her former mistress.