Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 (22 page)

Suddenly, with a loss of control alien to his nature, Bryan slammed his fist down on the desk, causing Jade to jump, startled. “Dammit,” he cried, eyes flaming with frustration and anger. “Do you think I’d make jokes at a time like this? And I’m not going to be a hypocrite and pretend I’m happy about it, either. The truth is, it would’ve suited me just fine if they’d found out he was dead. Maybe then you’d have buried his ghost, because I’ve known all along I’d never win your heart till you did.

“Only it didn’t work out that way, did it?” he added with a bitter, crooked smile. “Now the ghost lives on, but not the man.”

She stared at him, aghast, but said nothing, merely watched in stunned silence as he got up and returned to his vigil at the window.

“I knew the minute you heard he was alive you’d want to rush to him. That’s why I didn’t tell you until I had all the details.”

Jade stiffened with indignation. “You mean you’ve known? Before now? And you didn’t tell me?”

He turned to stare at her solemnly, hands folded behind his back. “Yes,” he admitted without apology. “And be glad that I didn’t let you make a fool of yourself, because you’d have gone rushing to him only to be hit square between the eyes with the fact that he’s married to someone else now.”

Again Jade shook her head in disbelief. “He can’t be. Why, it’s obvious he thinks I’m dead, but it hasn’t been that long. He wouldn’t have married anyone so soon.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? But what if he met someone he loved, despite his grief, in a very special way?” He paused, then goaded, “The way you profess to love me. What then? Be honest with yourself, Jade, and with me. If I’d told you today I had absolute proof Colt was dead, how long would you have waited to agree to marry me? Not very long, I’m sure.”

His gaze swept over her, warm with lusty remembrance. “Ah, Jade, my love, you can lie to yourself, and you can lie to me—with words—but when I take you in my arms and feel your passion…that, my dear, is a truth you cannot run from.”

“It isn’t fair, Bryan, to talk of such things now,” she rebuked him sharply.

He went on as though she had not spoken. “Neither of us is a conformist, and you know it. You don’t see me wearing the obligatory black garb of mourning—not even an armband. And when you went shopping for a new wardrobe, you didn’t buy black bombazine.” He could not resist the sarcastic barb.

Jade ignored it, continued her argument, although she realized she did not sound convincing, even to herself. “If it is true, then he only remarried because he was so grief-stricken he didn’t know what he was doing. He believed I was dead, and—”

“You can’t get around the fact that he didn’t confirm
your
death, the way you insisted on confirming
his
.”

“Well, he…” She paused, her mind spinning as she tried to rationalize in the midst of Bryan’s mocking smile. But through the wave of emotions pelting her, she knew he was not trying to be hurtful or unkind, for surely he was agonizing within himself. Therefore, she knew there had to be truth in what he was saying.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, but only momentarily. Lifting her chin in renewed defiance, emerald eyes sparkling with resolution, she prepared to do battle. “All right. I believe you, because you know if you’re lying, I’ll find out the truth sooner or later and hate you for it. But it doesn’t matter, because when Colt hears I’m alive, he’ll take immediate steps to undo what’s been done.” She flashed her own gloating smile. “Now, will you tell me where to find him, or will you make me go out and hire my own detectives?”

She rose from the chair, reached across the desk for the file, but Bryan moved quickly to snatch it away. “No! You’ll only hurt yourself, along with Colt and his…” He paused to allow the full implication of the word to assault her. “Wife.”

Jade felt her cheeks flush with rage. “Do you think I care about her, whoever she is? She’s not his wife. I am. And she has no right—”

“What about the baby she’s going to have? Colt’s baby?”

His words hung in the air like clawing humidity before a thunderstorm.

Jade reeled before this newest jolt. Wordlessly, she mouthed the word in disbelief.

“It’s true,” he affirmed, getting up to walk around the desk and tower above her. “When the detectives gave me their first report, that they’d found out easily enough that Colt is very much alive, they said they thought he and his wife were expecting a baby. I told them to check it out and be sure, and I was waiting to hear before saying anything to you.”

He waved the folder with finality. “I got the final report just minutes before you walked in.”

Jade’s eyes were desolate, empty, as she shook her head in denial. “No…no, it isn’t possible. I don’t believe it. I mean, it hasn’t been that long, and there’s just no way Colt could have remarried and be expecting a baby, unless…“ Her voice trailed off as the realization of what she was actually saying struck like a sledgehammer to her brain.

“
Unless
, “Bryan brusquely finished for her, “they were married right after Colt arrived in New York, and she conceived immediately.”

Jade stared at him in horror yet knew it was the only plausible explanation. Tears she could no longer suppress spilled from her sad eyes to trail pitifully down her ashen cheeks.

His heart went out to her, for he felt her anguish. He reached to pull her to her feet, folded his arms about her to draw her close against his chest. With his chin resting atop her head, he nuzzled the softness of her silky red hair. “I feel your pain,” he murmured, “but believe me when I say I’m going to make it go away. I’m going to do my damnedest to make you love me so much you’ll forget he ever existed.”

Abruptly, she pulled back from his embrace to stare up at him, as though she might find in his expression a hidden meaning, an answer, to this madness. She was no longer crying, and she suddenly seemed afire with renewed spirit.

“Swear to me, Bryan,” she commanded in a dread whisper. “Swear to me that everything you’re telling me is the truth.”

He was quick to respond, dismayed that she could doubt him. “Of course! Every word. As I told you, the Pinkerton detectives are highly reputable. They never make their report until they’re sure of everything in it.

“Believe me,” he went on, “when I tell you that it looks as though Colt wasted no time in remarrying. The detectives said they couldn’t find any other address for him once he’d arrived in New York except the one where he’s living now. Which means—”

“Which means,” Jade interjected icily, “that it had to be someone he met on the ship because he didn’t know any women in New York.
Damn him!
”

She whirled about in furious frustration. “How could he have done it?” she cried. “No period of mourning! Nothing! Why, he was probably married on the ship!”

Reluctantly, Bryan told his first lie. “No, but within a few weeks after arriving here, I’m told.”

She bit down on her lower lip thoughtfully, eyes narrowed in malignant concentration. “What is his wife’s name?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. I suppose not.”

He told his second lie. “They didn’t put that in the report.” He reached out for her again, but she stiffly resisted. His arms fell away, and with all the adoration he felt for her mirrored on his face, he implored, “Jade, you’re going to have to put him out of your mind. Colt has another wife now, who’s going to have his child. Forget him. Don’t you see?” He clutched her shoulders despite her struggle against him. “Colt might be alive, but your marriage is
dead
.
Over.
You can’t go back now.

“Would you even want to?” he challenged. “Knowing he didn’t care enough to wait even a little while, if only for the sake of appearance? As painful as it is for you to realize, as much as I hate having to say it, the truth is, he couldn’t have loved you very much or he wouldn’t have acted so hastily. He’d have hidden away with his grief, as I did. My God, I was on my way to my island to kill myself when I met you. That’s how torn and lost I felt after Marnia died. Think about it, Jade. Colt never really loved you. He couldn’t have, if he—”

“Stop!” she screamed, jerking away from him and covering her ears with her hands. “Stop it! I won’t listen to any more.”

Just then there was a knock on the door, and Bryan’s secretary hesitantly peered in to apologetically announce, “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Mr. Debnam is here for his appointment, and he’s very impatient.”

Bryan clenched his fists in frustration at the interruption. “He’ll have to wait. I’m busy.”

The young woman looked uncertain, stammered, “But—but he says he’s in a hurry, because he’s leaving for Europe tomorrow and has other appointments today, and—”

Enraged, Bryan cried, “I don’t give a damn. I said I can’t see him today.”

At that, Jade declared, “I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from your work.” She hurried across the room, rushing by his startled secretary.

Bryan started after her, calling for her to wait, but suddenly found the doorway blocked by a very large and very angry man who bluntly informed him, “You
will
see me today, Stevens, because your company made a hell of a big error on my statement, and I want it straightened out before I leave tomorrow.” He pushed his way inside the office, closed the door soundly behind him.

Jade lifted her long velvet skirts as she hurriedly made her way down a narrow stairwell. She paused inside the doorway, breath coming in ragged gasps of wretchedness, just long enough to retie her bonnet snugly about her head and gather her fur cape tightly to ward off the chill before rushing from the brownstone building. She then walked swiftly to what was called the “Flatiron Corner”, the best-known corner in New York at the intersection of Broadway, Fifth Avenue, and Twenty-third Street. Near the shopping district, it was busy at all hours, especially on this late afternoon when snow was thickly falling and people were rushing to get home before they found themselves completely marooned beneath a frigid white blanket. She did not know where she was going and, for the moment, did not care. The snow caused her no anxiety, accustomed as she was to the deep drifts and frenzied blizzards of Russia.

Aimlessly, she began to walk up Fifth Avenue, her mind reeling with only one thought: Colt was married…married…married… The words echoed loudly, painfully inside her head like the ringing of a death knell. Dear God, to think that he now slept with another woman, revered her as his wife, that she was carrying his baby inside her.

The knowledge hurt, so badly that pain was a white-hot knife carving into Jade’s very soul.

What could she do about it?

What did she even
want
to do about it?

She could never go to Colt thinking that if he knew she was actually alive he’d leave that other woman, whoever she was, and their baby, to come back to her. Whatever it was—egoism, pride—it would stop her from contemplating, or allowing, such a thing to occur.

So what happened next?

She could turn the ashes of a once brightly flaming love that had obviously been merely infatuation, a folly, to Colt, into embers of indignation and rage.

Hating him would make the disappointment of her love-dream easier to bear, but other than teaching herself to loathe him and the formerly bright and tender memories, she had no plans.

She knew only that she had no intention of returning to Russia.

Her future was here, in America.

Bryan, her heart told her, could be a very important part of that future. Was that what she wanted? She was not sure, not yet. Her heart, her mind, had just been hit by a thunderbolt of anguish, and time was needed to absorb and deal with the damages inflicted.

She paused on a corner as a fire engine raced by, horses at a gallop, earth trembling as the hatless fireman driving leaned forward with arms out straight and held tightly to the reins. Behind him were the long ladder-wagon chutes with firemen clinging, coats flapping in the frigid winds. Then, farther behind, there was a crowd of small boys, excitedly running to follow the firemen in delighted anticipation of the faraway day when they would, hopefully, be among the brave men clinging to the wagons.

Jade crossed the street, noting the skies were growing dark, not caring that night would soon fall behind the cloak of gray snow clouds. Had she not changed their plans, she was to have met Bryan at his office later, when the stores closed, and they were to have taken a hackney to his club near Central Park, where they’d dine before taking a late train home. Now she wished it were not snowing, for she would have liked to engage a hackney and ride endlessly up and down Fifth Avenue, could have done so for hours in an attempt to deal with her turmoil, since the cost was nominal—fifty cents to ride twenty blocks. But the weather was becoming worse, and she knew she had to seek shelter from it.

Perhaps, she thought a bit remorsefully, she should not have walked out of Bryan’s office in such a hurry. After all, he was the one and only friend she had in America, and he’d been there for her when no one else had. What, dear God, would she have done without him? She shuddered to think. He’d done much more than save her life when he’d miraculously found her adrift in the ocean—he’d given meaning to her life when there had been none.

Such thoughts provoked warm, grateful memories, and suddenly she wished he were there, beside her, giving her a hand to cling to amidst the turbulence of her life.