Mystical Love (30 page)

Adrian folded his arms across his chest, his gaze sweeping her face.

“We can't go back and do it differently. So why agonize over it?”

She shot him a withering glance.

“Why? Because there were other options. Other choices!”

“None that mattered.”

“God! I hate when you do that! You argue out of spite. I say black, you say white! Well, do me a favor, get out of my face! I can't stand the sight of you!”

Her gaze swiveled back to the skyline beyond the window and with deliberate coolness, she ignored him again. Chilled by her hostility, Adrian hoisted himself from the frame, drawing a step nearer.

“If it's any comfort to you, I can't stand the sight of myself either.”

Turning on his heel, he strode away, sidestepping the mangled scraps of debris littering the gallery floor. Hearing his name, he ignored the summons and continued his trek to the door. Escaping into the hollowed-out corridor, he bent and began the arduous task of digging a pathway through the pile of rubble.

SATURDAY — 11:00 AM

Ignoring the noise and bustle of the milling work hands, Janice stood at the edge of the pier studying the gray, green gloom of water slapping against the wood pilings of the loading dock. Just beneath the rim of the surface, she could see a school of minnows darting to and fro, scooping up nourishing bits of algae hanging from the barnacles littering the posts. Watching their frenetic swish, she gave a sigh. She was as hungry for food as they seemed to be. However, she knew her stomach would balk if she put anything in it. Eating in her present mood was useless, as impossible as growing wings on her back and flying home to Aspen.

Sighing a second time, she let her gaze arc up leisurely, following the blinding dazzle of the sun's path on the churning sea, across to the web of inland coves. For a moment, she was content to let her mind scale the smooth shoreline, blocking out the distant crashing of waves against the craggy cliffs about her. She was going home and high time. Her nerves were shot.

Forcing herself to relax, she took a deep breath, inhaling the bitter sea air. The icy breeze kicking up was invigorating, chasing away the long hours of imprisonment. All that was left to do now was to board the ferry standing dockside. The sustained whine of idling engines droned through Janice's consciousness and she spun on her heels.

Hastily, she tuned into the hive of activity before her. The ANNIE B's departure was only moments away, the raucous laughter forgotten as the engrossed dockhands now struggled through the last stages of hauling in the mammoth towline. Had it been only yesterday she had stepped onto this pier for the first time? Yesterday, she had promised Captain Bowers she wouldn't spook any ghosts. Well, she had kept her word. She hadn't spooked them; they had spooked her.

As if pulled by a magnet, Janice found her gaze drifting upward to the roof top turrets barely visible above the surrounding seawall. Witchwood had beckoned her to cross an ocean and solve a three hundred year old mystery. Why had she been chosen? Her gaze slid to the prism of light cascading through the stained glass alongside the turrets. That answer would remain a mystery to her, at least in this lifetime.

Someone sharply called out her name, and Janice swung to see the figure striding the timbers toward her with a brief wave. In seconds, she found herself buried in Jasper's warm embrace. Laying her head on his chest, she remained silent, content to listen to the steady, strong beat of his heart through his overcoat. How was he able to maintain such a stalwart front with Muriel gone? He was a veritable fortress and she was a total wreck. His embrace became an affectionate bear hug and Janice heard his voice raise a notch to be heard over the din of work hands.

“You mustn't blame yourself, Janice,” he soothed. “Simone took Muriel within seconds. Even I couldn't break the meld, though I tried.”

“We should've stayed together,” Janice mumbled, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. “Muriel would be alive if we had.”

He pushed her from him and studied her face.

“Are you so vain as to think you were the only one in that house willing to sacrifice yourself for the others?”

Janice detected the subtle censure in his question. A contrite apology quickly formed on her lips.

“Jasper, I didn't mean … ”

He cut her off with a tight squeeze.

“We were all faced with choices. You chose your path. Muree chose hers.”

Janice buried her face once more into Jasper's chest, feeling the sting of tears caressing her lashes. Did he mean there was some good in Muriel's death?

“One wonderful soul reached out across time to us,” he mused. “That soul asked for nothing more from us than compassion. We answered that summons, each in our own way. We connect so rarely with each other here on this earth, but for one brief instance, when it really mattered, we proved that all who have passed on still live and there is hope in the life beyond, for even the most sinful … little child, big soul,” he finished confidently.

Janice reflected on his words, her throat tightening. The truth was so eloquently simple that she had missed it. Jasper was right. Last night had been horrendous but it had also affirmed life after death. It had been the beginning of a new identity. Giving a warm smile, she patted the front of Jasper's overcoat.

“Little child, big soul,” she repeated.

“They're ready for you, Janice,” Lloyd's voice cut through the space and Janice peered around Jasper's imposing form. “Your suitcase is on board and Dr. Graves has the hospital on standby for you.”

“You're not coming with me, Lloyd?”

He shook his head slowly.

“No. The police aren't finished up at the house yet. Besides, my goodbye would only consist of begging your forgiveness.” His quick look at her bandaged wrist had Janice murmuring softly.

“It's not anyone's fault, Lloyd. You know that.”

“Yes, well, that doesn't make it any easier,” he replied. He cleared his throat and signaled her again. “Captain Bowers doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

Janice nodded and then held her hand out to Jasper.

“Will I see you in Aspen, Jasper?”

He clasped her fingers.

“In the summer. I'll bring the twins. We'll picnic at Hollow Lake.”

“It's a deal,” Janice replied. With a last toss of her head, she started down the walkway toward the gangplank. As she walked, she steeled herself against the one final goodbye she was dreading. Adrian. Silently she prayed he was already on board — as eager to ignore her as she was to ignore him. She couldn't face a formal goodbye. If she did, she knew she'd break down, perhaps even blurt out she hadn't meant the hateful words she had hurled at him in the gallery. And that she couldn't stand. She had to break clean from the weekend. No matter what.

Glancing ahead, a suffocating sensation twisted her lungs. She wasn't going to be lucky. Adrian stood at the entrance ramp, Ginger by his side. They were awaiting her arrival, and for a moment, Janice slowed her steps. Then realizing how foolish she must appear, she picked up her gait again.

Rubbing her bandaged wrist nervously, Janice sensed the air of isolation that hung about Adrian's slouched shoulders. His black hair gleamed in the dazzling sunlight and she wondered if she would forever be haunted by his good looks. Haunted. She gave a shiver. Not the best word to use in the situation. Three steps from the ramp, Janice cast another prayer heavenward, asking for strength and pleading for Adrian to stay silent.

Toes touching the gangplank, Janice knew God didn't intend to make their parting easy. Adrian stepped forward, touching her coat sleeve tentatively.

“Janice, I … ”

She didn't let him start. She cut him off in mid-word.

“Get away from me, Adrian. The sight of you makes me sick.”

The words jarred him and, though he managed to pretend indifference, Janice knew she had wounded him to the quick. Gathering his dignity gallantly around him, he touched his forehead to her in a mock salute. In a flash, he had vaulted from the pier to the deck of the ferry, ignoring the small walkway. He disappeared quickly among the stacks of crates and packages and bodies and Janice felt a stab of guilt bury itself deep within her chest. That had been a mean thing to say. He hadn't deserved it. She hadn't realized she harbored such a cruel streak when it came to him. She wanted to hurt him thoroughly and she had. Janice felt no surprise when Ginger's thoughts echoed her own.

“Why didn't you just plunge a knife through his heart? It would've been kinder.” Janice's gaze pierced the small distance between them. Ginger was angry with her, deeply angry. It showed in the purse of her lips. “That was
too
cruel,” she emphasized when Janice remained simply staring at her.

“I know,” Janice finally admitted, “but it had to be done.”

For a moment, Janice thought Ginger would understand her reasoning but her next words were far from sympathetic.

“He cried over you, you know. Cold-hearted Adrian who never gives a damn about anybody but himself. He didn't think I saw him but I did. He loves you desperately but he doesn't know how to tell you.”

Janice looked away. Dear God, how much more could she bear?

“He'll forget and go on,” was all she could manage to mutter. Ginger moved away at once, stepping onto the ramp, and then as if having an afterthought, she turned back again.

“It shouldn't be so easy for people to throw love away.”

Their eyes caught and held for a brief instant and then Ginger whirled, leaving Janice to climb the ramp alone. Alone. The word echoed in her mind and sternly mocked her. She'd have a lifetime of alone thanks to her runaway tongue.

Unexpected tears blocked her vision and Janice felt her toes hit the edge of the gangplank. Whoa, she cautioned herself. If she weren't careful, she'd be having more than her wrist fixed at the hospital. Slipping her toes back onto solid board, she hopped the last yards onto the lower promenade. Immediately, she crossed to the stairwell and wound her way to the second level promenade, coming to rest when she reached the aft guardrail. Seconds later, the lurching vibration of revving engines rattled the flooring beneath her feet and she knew the ANNIE B's departure was underway. A short horn blast confirmed the fact and with a stuttered creak, the ANNIE B scratched the wood pilings and began to backwater away from the mooring.

Leaning over the railing, Janice spotted Lloyd and Jasper, who exchanged a brief wave with her and then left the dock, striding from the pier to the cliff stairwell. Following their path, Janice's gaze shot ahead to the house at the top of the cliff wall. In time, she would heal and so would Adrian. Hadn't her father always said not to worry, that time was the wind that blew down the corridor slamming all the doors? Yes, but life had taught her that, once slammed, the door could never be reopened. Ginger was right. It shouldn't be so easy to throw love away.

Clinging to the rail, Janice closed her eyes. She had seen too much in the last twenty four hours, experienced too many painful scenes. And now she was going to face a lightless future without Adrian. Or try to. Suddenly, Janice realized she was beyond pain and caring. From here on out, she would simply hang onto survival.

SIX MONTHS LATER — MACEDONIA, MAINE

Lloyd studied the portrait before him. How many more nights would he find himself leaving the solace of his bedroom to stand before the canvas? For six months, the painting had haunted him. For six months, he had awakened from deep sleep only to seek out the portrait. He didn't think it had anything special to impart to him. No, all that needed to be said was etched in the lines of the loving couple portrayed. Lisette had found freedom at last — in the arms of her true love. It was there in the excited light of her eyes and the shared embrace. Lloyd could almost feel the baron's uneven breathing on Lisette's cheek as he held her close. He could almost feel the tangible bond between them. The invisible heat of attraction they shared.

A creak on the floor board signaled a new visitor to the room.

“Have I disturbed you again, Dora?” he asked, swinging his gaze to find the woman in question plowing across the room toward him. Her sniff was dutiful as she reached him and a glass was shoved into his hand proving it.

“Warm milk. It will make you sleep,” she stated tartly.

Lloyd hid a smile at the matronly cosseting. He took a quick sip of the liquid.

“You're a prig, Dora. Have I ever told you that?”

“At least six times a day. Don't make no matter to me. You don't mean it. It's just your way.”

Lloyd swatted the thin line of white coating his upper lip.

“Yes, it's my way.”

Dora scanned the portrait before them.

“You never did tell me which room you found this beautiful, old portrait in,” she commented.

“Don't remember,” Lloyd evaded.

Her tell-tale sniff boomed again and Lloyd suddenly grinned as her ample bosom twisted toward him.

“You're too young to have bats in your belfry, Lloyd Marks! Of course you remember. You just don't choose to tell me.”

Lloyd let out a boyish laugh and then drained the remaining swirl of milk. He loved nothing better than making Dora squirm with curiosity. Flinging out his free arm, he tossed it carelessly across her shoulders and spun them both around.

“I have told you the truth, Dora, plenty of times. The portrait was left by a ghost.”

She wrenched away from him, throwing her head back and placing her hand on her hips in defiance.

“Still standing by that story, are you? Well, you may have fooled everyone else around here with that mumbo-jumbo, but I'm not fooled. You found that painting in the old wing. Plain as the nose on my face! Ghosts that leave pictures indeed! Fairy tale mush!”

Lloyd laughed again, scooping her fingers from her hips and depositing the empty glass into her palm. Quickly, he placed his hands on the small of her back and nudged her forward.