Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 (9 page)

When Mrs. Vordane realized she would get no response from Jade, she pretended sympathetic concern. “Oh, of course, you’d rather not discuss it, you poor child. Forgive me. Why, you’re probably already homesick, aren’t you?” She wagged a scolding finger at Colt. “That’s what you American boys get for marrying foreign girls. Stick to your own kind. A wife crying over her homeland is not the kind of life’s mate you need.”

Jade tensed, struggling to keep from exploding, for she did not want to give this inquisitive woman the satisfaction of seeing her lose control. Tightly, she bit out the words, “For your information, Mrs. Vordane, I am not homesick, nor do I intend to be. My place is beside my husband, wherever he chooses to live, and I rather think it’s his business whether he marries a ‘foreigner’ or an American.”

Mrs. Vordane gasped, but Jade rushed on. “I suggest you look to your own background, and unless you come from a long line of Indians on both sides, I’d say you’re somewhat of a foreigner to American soil yourself.”

Colt dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and coughed to keep from bursting out laughing. Triesta Vordane looked as though someone had just thrown ice water in her face; even her daughter dared to giggle.

Jade stood up.

Colt also rose.

“Excuse me,” Jade said crisply, then walked out of the dining room, head held high.

She made her way back upstairs, let herself into the cabin. The steward had been there for his evening service, placing a bowl of fresh fruit on the table in the parlor and turning back the covers on their bed.

Undressing, Jade put on a robe and then began to walk about in agitation, reliving the horrid dinner, thinking of poor Lorena Vordane and how terrible it must be to have such a wretched creature for a mother. No wonder the girl just sat silently staring at her plate, as though she wished she could slip beneath the table and disappear.

Then Jade began to stew about Colt and why he hadn’t followed her. He’d handled Triesta’s nosiness rather well, considering she had asked so many personal questions. He’d hedged, sidestepped, managed to be polite, while all the time Jade had been gritting her teeth.

Finally Colt came in, immediately going to her to wrap her in his arms. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered. “I went to talk to the maître d’ again, and there’s just nothing he can do, unless we want to swap tables.

“But,” he went on, laughing, “I don’t think she’s going to try to cut you up anymore after the way you let her know you aren’t intimidated by her. That part about the Indians really got her.” He grinned and shook his head.

The next morning, Jade awoke to look out the porthole and see that the ocean seemed to be getting rougher. She knew the water was rarely calm in the Atlantic, but the whitecaps were higher than usual. She remarked to Colt that she hoped there wouldn’t be a storm, and he sleepily commented that the ship was a good one and there was no danger. She returned to her watch of the rolling, heaving waves and placed a hand on her stomach. It was rolling and starting to heave there, too. She was not feeling all that well.

Colt was being lazy and did not want to get up for breakfast; so, in hopes a stroll on deck might make her feel better, Jade dressed in a warm wool dress and thick fur cape and went outside.

The wind at once assaulted her, biting and chilling, despite its being only September. The sky was gray, overcast, and she wondered whether the spray striking her face as she quickened her pace was from the foaming sea or rain.

A crewman passed. “Deck’s slippery,
madame
,” he warned. “Keep hold to the railing and go inside. It’s not a fit day for a walk on the promenade.”

Jade agreed, as the ship gave a sudden lurch that would have sent her falling had she not obeyed his instructions and grabbed the railing.

She went inside the next door she came to where the welcome scent of fresh coffee was tantalizing. She was in one of the public rooms. She recognized this one as the room where the men gathered to play cards. It was empty now except for a steward standing beside a large silver urn of coffee, and she hurried over eagerly.

“Terrible day out,” he said as he poured her a steaming cup. “But unfortunately, these crossings are seldom sunny…always seem to be rainy and gloomy.”

Jade nodded toward the porthole, through which she saw gray horizon meet brooding sea in a blend of colorless misery. “Looks stormy.”

“Aye, it’s not unusual to run into a big blow this time of year.”

She could not help feeling apprehensive. “What happens then? Is it terribly frightening?”

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t you worry. Captain Myers is the best there is, and he drops anchor when he thinks it’s too rough to fight the sea, and there we sit till it calms down. Sit it out, that’s what we do. The crew battens down, and the passengers stay in their cabins. The stewards pass out sandwiches so they can eat in there and not chance coming out and getting washed overboard.”

Jade shivered. “I hope we don’t have to go through that.”

He gestured to a table next to the wall. “You just sit down, enjoy your coffee, and don’t think about it. Have you eaten? I can go to the galley and get you some fresh pastry.”

Gratefully, she accepted his kindness, made her way to the table, out of sight of the porthole and the gloomy scenery beyond.

A few moments later, Jade heard the door open but did not bother to glance about, thinking the steward was returning. However, when a soft voice hesitantly spoke her name, she was startled and turned quickly to find Lorena Vordane standing right behind her.

“Mrs. Coltrane, may I speak with you a moment, please?”

Puzzled but curious, Jade politely indicated the chair opposite.

Lorena sat down, her lower lip quivering, eyes brimming with tears. Although the room was empty, she whispered, “I apologize for the way my mother is treating you. I think it’s terrible, and I want you to know I’m truly, truly sorry.”

At once Jade felt deep compassion for this miserable girl and reached across to pat her tightly squeezed hands. “There’s no need for you to apologize, Lorena. You’ll find I’m a bit thicker-skinned than most women. I like to think so, anyway.”

Lorena nodded, smiled meekly. “I’m glad. I truly am. Maybe after you put her in her place last night, she’ll leave you alone. I’m afraid she’s just been taking it out on you, because she’s so mad with me.”

Jade’s interest was piqued. The girl was so meek she couldn’t imagine her upsetting anyone. She was like an apologetic little shadow. “What have you done?”

Lorena shook her head, shrugged. A tear spilled to trail pitifully down her pale cheek. “I ran away from home…with a man.”

Now Jade was really engrossed. “Go on, please,” she gently prodded.

Lorena began her story with how, only two years before, her father had died when she was fifteen. “Before he died, I was preparing to go and live with his sister in Switzerland and finish my schooling there. He’d said I could go, even though my mother objected. She’s not a very pleasant person to be around, I’m afraid, and he knew how unhappy I was at home. She’s always been a snob, and I don’t know why…” She paused to give a small laugh. “She came from a very poor family, actually. It was my father who came from the wealthy bluebloods she brags so much about.

“Anyway,” she continued, seeming relieved to at last have an outlet for her frustration and misery, “when he died, she wouldn’t let me leave, said she needed me since she was alone. Then she started trying to show me and everyone else that just because she’s a widow, she still has a place in high society, still has money. She even started trying to match me with the sons of friends of hers, saying she wanted to make sure I married into my own ‘class’. That didn’t work!” Her laugh was now bitter.

“Why not? You’re a pretty girl, Lorena.”

“You’re going to find, Mrs. Coltrane, that there are a lot of pretty girls in New York, from families with more money than my mother has, and when there’s a choice, those families don’t want to be connected in any way with my mother. They don’t like her. Consequently, I’ve lived a very miserable life with my mother dictating to me, smothering me. It’s like being in a prison. I can’t make a single decision for myself. She dictates my every move, tries to control my very thoughts!”

Suddenly she closed her eyes, as though swept with unbearable waves of pain. Jade waited, not about to urge her to talk of anything that obviously hurt so badly.

Lorena Vordane opened her eyes to look mournfully at Jade as she drew in her breath, let it out slowly, and confided, “Then I met Mandel. He was a sailor from France, on shore leave in the States while visiting his uncle. We met one day when I was able to slip away from the house to go for a walk. His uncle worked as a caretaker on an estate near where we live, and we talked, began to take walks together. I loved Mandel from the very first moment, and I started sneaking out every chance I got to be with him.”

She went on to describe how furious her mother was when she ultimately found out about her clandestine romance. “She beat me. Locked me in my room. But Mandel helped me escape. We boarded a ship for France, planning to marry when we got there, and I’d live with his family while he was at sea.”

Lorena wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, swallowed hard, and choked out the rest of the agonizing tale. “Mandel’s uncle told my mother where we were. His reward was quite handsome, I’m sure. She and two ruffians she hired came after us, found us, right where Mandel’s uncle told her we’d be. Mandel was terribly beaten by Mother’s men. They’re vacationing somewhere in Europe, no doubt drunk on wine and the good life she gave them in return for half killing the only man I’ll ever love…”

Her voice broke finally, and so did she, covering her face with her hands, allowing the heart-wrenching sobs to consume her.

Jade got to her feet at once, hurried to her side in an attempt to console the young girl, but the gesture brought Lorena out of herself. Almost angrily, she pushed Jade away, stood up, the chair tipping over noisily as she did so. “Leave me alone!” she cried, moving toward the door. “I never should have told you any of this. I have to go now, before she starts looking for me, finds me talking to you—”

She ran from the room. Jade started to go after her, then decided it was best just to let her go. Her tale was told. Sad though it was, there was nothing she could do, except pray the poor girl found happiness one day, despite having a she-devil for a mother.

Jade still did not feel well, in fact, was feeling worse as the ship began to pitch and roll against the angry swelling of the ocean.

Making her way back to her quarters, Jade undressed and lay down next to Colt, who welcomed her into the warm embrace of his loving and protective arms.

Chapter Eight

Over a light lunch of fruit and wine, which they’d had delivered to their quarters by a steward, Jade told Colt about Lorena’s pitiful story. He listened, wide-eyed and silent. “That’s incredible,” he finally said. “If I’d heard this from anyone but you, I wouldn’t believe it. Oh, I don’t doubt a man might find her attractive, under normal circumstances. I mean, she’s not bad-looking, and if she were fixed up and not around her mother, I imagine she’d be downright pretty, but now she’s just a plain, drab little nobody. To think of her even sneaking out to be with a man, much less running away, all the way to France…” He shook his head in disbelief, laughed, then saw the disapproving way Jade was looking at him. “Well, you have to admit it’s funny,” he defended himself.

Perhaps, Jade silently agreed, but she did not feel like laughing about anything, because she was feeling worse all the time. Going back to bed and napping till noon had not helped. She still felt queasy, light-headed, and her head was beginning to ache. When she vomited after eating, Colt became alarmed and sent for the ship’s doctor.

Dr. Morley reminded Jade of a Norwegian troll: short, stumpy arms and legs, bald head wreathed by frizzy white hair, and a big hooked nose with a wart on the end. But he was kind and sympathetic. “You’re suffering from seasickness, my dear lady. Classic symptoms.”

The ship pitched, rolled, creaked like a burglar tiptoeing on an old wood floor.

Jade groaned, heaved, was embarrassed to throw up again in the bucket Colt had placed by the bed.

“Well, how long is it going to last?” Colt asked impatiently. “And can’t you give her anything?”

“Sorry,” the grizzled little man said. “Seasickness has to run its course, I’m afraid, and the way the barometer is falling, I’m afraid she’ll get worse before she gets better, because a stormy sea is only going to aggravate it.

“As for giving her something,” he went on, rummaging in his worn leather bag, “I’ve got some ground ginger. I’ll take it to the galley and mix it with some juice and have it sent up. Have her drink that, and some warm broth. Maybe it’ll ease her stomach a bit. Tomorrow see if she can keep down a boiled egg, maybe some toast.”

Jade moaned again, the muscles of her stomach sore and aching from the rumbling and heaving. She said she felt terribly warm, as though a fever were starting.

Dr. Morley said he wasn’t surprised. “Fever sometimes goes with it. Stay in bed. Stay warm. Can’t do anything else for you, Mrs. Coltrane, but if it’s any comfort, I’ve got other passengers sick with the same thing.”

He left them, and Colt tucked warm blankets about her. Pulling up a chair, he sat beside the bed and held her hand, brow furrowed with concern and sympathy. “Try to fall asleep, princess,” he urged. “I’ll be right here. You’ll feel better when you drink the ginger juice.”