Rite of Passage (11 page)

“Hello, Robert.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. She wore the fragrance that hypnotized me. A pearl choker rested on her slender neck, matching the iridescent studs in her ears. Below the choker hung the now-familiar pendant on its fine silver chain.

She saw me staring at it.

“You keep looking at this.” She touched it lightly. “It’s very dear to me, a family heirloom passed down for generations. It’s the symbol for the maiden Andromeda. It offers protection from evil.” Her eyes dropped as she fingered the small, finely tooled piece. “Do you know Greek mythology?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“It is rather an arcane subject.” She laughed softly. “Andromeda was a beautiful princess sentenced to death because of her mother’s vanity. She was chained to a rock to be sacrificed to Cetus, the sea monster. But Perseus saved her.” She looked up, eyes questioning. “We spoke of heroism yesterday. Would you be my Perseus, Robert?” she asked. Her eyes held no amusement.

My face flushed. “Yes,” I replied. “And speaking of mythology, where are your friends this evening?”

“Tucked away, comfy in their beds. Thank you for asking.” She seemed to relax, showing a demure smile. She stood back to survey me. “You look quite
the proper gentleman this evening.” She tilted her head.

“You look remarkable, too, Courtney,” I began.
Good God
, I thought.
Remarkable
. What a weak choice of words. I wanted to say so much more, to tell her she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.

I studied every feature, letting my fingers touch her arm briefly. She watched my hand, then closed her eyes, exhaling softly. I wanted to crush her in my arms.

“That is such a stunning gown,” I whispered instead. “And I love the way you did your hair.”

“It’s called a French braid,” she explained. “And I’m delighted you approve of my frock.”

“Very much so.”

Her face flushed.

She drew very close, warm breath enveloping me as she whispered, “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

The room was getting warm—very warm. Why was it I never felt this way around Rachel? Why did I love just standing close to Courtney, watching her subtle movements, hanging on her every word and reveling in her enchanting scent?

Before I could think of an answer, our fellow dinner guests began to arrive. Several smiled as they saw us, as if pleased we were together, like the bride and groom at a wedding. Courtney and I separated, talking to our respective companions and stealing discreet looks at one another.

The men hovered around Courtney, flirting shamelessly, watching her move in that delicious gown. I made conversation with the women whose husbands were being entranced. Tonight Courtney was animated and energized, a different young woman from the one I met on Thursday. My ego let me take credit for the transformation.

After an endless separation, Jonathan and Gretchen asked us to be seated. Courtney and I found our places at the end of the table, she seated on my right again. I put my arm around her, squeezing her shoulder as she took her seat. Once seated, I placed my right hand in my lap. She brushed it briefly, blushing as she flashed a smile warm enough to melt the flatware.

Our dinner resonated with laughter and animated conversation, thanks to the abundance and variation of wine provided by our hosts. Courtney and I took full advantage of their cellar, sampling every bottle.

Gretchen watched. Perhaps she disapproved of the fondness we displayed for one another. When I lit a cigarette between the soup and entrée, Courtney reached over and took it from me, lips curling up pleasantly as she inhaled. I loved each small intimacy. But then I reveled in everything Courtney did or said, perhaps more now, knowing what she’d been through.

As the dinner progressed, she seemed to move closer. Shivers ran down my spine when her warm thigh touched mine. I thought of Rachel and my vows to maintain a platonic, distant relationship. As Courtney’s leg brushed mine, her soft, jasmine scent filled the smoky space around us, and her adoring smile hung on my every word, my resolve evaporated. I was her captive.

After two hours of tempting foreplay, we adjourned to the great room. It was long and dark with a high vaulted ceiling and walls paneled in mahogany. Somber family portraits covered the finely polished wood. A small orchestra awaited. Many of the older guests looked fatigued, bloated again by the sumptuous meal and too much wine. They said their good-nights and nodded politely, heading off to bed.

“I’m glad you two are joining us,” Gretchen said. “Somebody has to take advantage of these fine musicians.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving. Would you, Robbie?” Courtney stared up at me.

Not if I was pulled away by a herd of elephants
. I shook my head, thrilled by the prospect of dancing with her, holding her close, feeling her lithe body against mine.

Gretchen raised her eyebrows. “Wonderful,” she said, watching us.

The dance floor was sparsely populated. Courtney took my hand, drawing me to a secluded corner. “Let’s go over here. I didn’t get much practice at home.” She winked.

“Let’s see about that,” I whispered, putting my arm around her waist. I suspected Courtney could master whatever she put her mind to. We worked through a foxtrot—she was good. Then a waltz—she was better. By the third piece, she’d mastered the drill.

“Robbie,” she whispered into my chest.

“Yes, Courtney.”

“You said you liked to ride?”

“I did,” I answered, hoping this was an invitation.

“Could we go for a ride and picnic tomorrow?” She paused. “There’s a special place I want to show you before…” Her words trailed off.

I knew what she was thinking. Despite my vows never to leave her, it was the same thought I had,
Before you have to leave and return to your world.

“Of course.”

“Good.” She snuggled closer. “Meet you at 7:30 in the courtyard.”

We stood in our private space, maintaining the pretense of restraint. When Courtney pressed close, I tried to keep a discreet distance. But by the time the small ensemble played Frank Loesser’s “I Wish I Didn’t Love You So,” my resistance had crumbled. When Courtney clutched my back, I let her. I felt her warm, firm body as she pulled me closer. She clung, breathing heavily as I held her, eyes closed. We stood, barely moving, caught up in the music, the surroundings and the electricity passing between us.

Someone tapped Courtney’s shoulder. I opened my eyes. “Cutting in.” It was Gretchen. Courtney backed away. “Time to break this lovely couple up.” Gretchen took her nieces arm as the dance ended. “This young lady should go to bed.”

“Of course,” I agreed, looking at my watch and trying to conceal my disappointment. Gretchen looked back, guiding her niece toward the door. Courtney turned, wearing a look of regret.

I left the main house, lighting a cigarette as the damp night air surrounded me. I studied the brilliant stars, searching the constellations and thinking about the conversation on the night we met. Could I really be her Perseus? I wanted to, but I was in uncharted territory. She was beautiful, young, forbidden. She was also everything I had ever dreamt of. I hoped desperately she felt the same way.

“I watched you two
tonight, Robert,” Jon began. “She is quite the young lady.”

“Quite,” I whispered.

“She’s very taken with you.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“I am.” He flashed me a knowing smile.

I needed something to help me return to reality. “Can I use your phone again?”

Would another well-placed call help to quell this runaway inferno? I doubted it.

“You know where my office is.” He pointed toward the house and patted me on the back, weaving off for a nightcap. I went inside, smiling absently at the stragglers returning to their rooms. I threaded my way along the paneled hallway to the polished oak door of Jon’s office. I went to his massive desk and picked up the handset, clicking it several times before hearing an operator.

“Number please?” the voice asked wearily.

I whispered the number of Rachel’s Back Bay apartment.

“Robbie?” Rachel answered in a scratchy voice. She sounded exhausted. “Is that you again? Twice in one day? It’s good to hear your voice. How’s the reunion?”

“I’m still here.”

“You okay, Rob?”

“Fine,” I lied. “Just had to hear your voice before I went to bed.”

“You sure you’re all right? You sound kind of odd.”

“I’m fine,” I reassured her.

We spent the next few minutes discussing how we’d spent our Saturdays. She spared me the pain of lying by failing to ask about my new companion. I left out the details of my day: Courtney by the pool, witch stories about Courtney, dancing with Courtney.

“Tell me how much you love me,” Rachel commanded. She and I had a pleasant, satisfying relationship. Great rapport, lots of fun, good conversation. But love? I always thought so. I knew better now.

“Madly.” I gave in, whispering into the receiver, knowing that my words sounded hollow.

“Gotta go, love.”

“Okay, Rach. I’ll call you when I can.”

“Try. I really miss you, Robbie.” Sadly, I knew she did.

“Me, too,” I told her.

“Damn,” I cursed, hanging up the phone then leaving.

The evening was cooler. A fresh breeze blew across the courtyard, but the weathermen were promising more heat and humidity tomorrow. Our special day together. I sneaked a look up at her window, eager for another late night-rendezvous. It was dark. I opened my door and switched on the light.

The newspaper clippings still troubled me, especially after Michael’s revelations that afternoon. Was it possible that someone else knew Courtney’s history? Were they warning me? Did this anonymous person think I might be in danger? Was I?

Lying on the bed, my mind drifted back to the evening. The chemistry that played out between us, Courtney’s sense of humor, her intoxicating scent, and the way her body and mine melded to perfection.

Chapter Seventeen

I lay on my bed, my mind conflicted with Michael’s revelations, the electricity that held me prisoner when Courtney was close, the guilt that consumed me when I pictured Rachel.

I sat up and got out of bed. Pulling on a pair of pants and a T-shirt, I went outside. The moon climbed over the somber, gray façade of the main house as I walked across the courtyard and onto the massive dock that jutted into Sebago. As I passed, I looked up at Courtney’s open window. It was dark.

Lighting a cigarette, I sat down in one of the Adirondack chairs at the end. It held a trace of dew, but other things filled my mind. As I watched the dark water moving lazily with the breeze, I thought about tomorrow and spending the day with Courtney. Would it be our last? It was Sunday. My plan was to return to the city on Monday. Or it had been. What should I do? Would pursuing this self-indulgent obsession only cause both of us heartache? What about Rachel, our families, and everyone around us? I thought of Michael, the Evanses, my mother. I couldn’t see any of them endorsing my love for Courtney. But how could I leave her?

Checking the luminous dial on my watch I saw it was almost one. I extinguished my cigarette and headed back to the guest house. Walking along the dock, I glanced toward the north. A glow appeared above the forest—as if a bonfire was burning. I stopped. Yes, there was no doubt. I came off the dock and walked toward it, my stomach doing flips. Suddenly it vanished. I stood searching the horizon. Nothing. I shook my head, turned, and went back to my room, lay on my bed and closed my eyes.

Courtney’s image appeared before me, a beautiful vision floating in front of a blazing fire. I could smell the sweet fragrance of hazel logs. Dressed in a flowing white gown tied at the waist with a pink ribbon, she stood at the center of a large circle, surrounded by men and women also dressed in white. They chanted in a strange language. It had a medieval sound.

She moved around the circle fluidly, dancing and spinning in a graceful, erotic way. I felt myself becoming aroused as I watched the enchanting spectacle. The circle was in a wooded place. I watched, hidden behind a thick oak. Shadows from the massive fire lit her lithe, elegant body as she swayed in rhythm to the chanting of those around her. Suddenly, she stopped and looked in my direction. Her dark, hypnotic eyes glowed from within—brown one minute, green the next. Courtney beckoned to me. I found myself unable to resist. She took a gleaming knife and parted the circle. Approaching, she held out her arms. I felt myself moving toward her. Her lips parted as she smiled the soft smile that I loved, the expressive one showing innocence and invitation.

We joined as she took my hands in hers. As we touched euphoria overcome me. I was consumed by a sense of peace and well-being unlike anything I had ever known. Courtney nodded, telling me that I was safe, that everything was all right. Turning, she continued holding my right hand as she led me through the circle toward its center. I looked at the others as I passed. We were surrounded by the people from the reunion: Jon, Gretchen, the couple from the pool. I recognized all of them. Like Courtney, they smiled warmly and nodded as if to assure me I was with friends. As I scanned the circle I saw Michael and even my mother dressed in the same white robes.

As we reached the circle’s center, Courtney continued to grasp my hand. She knelt in front of an imposing figure, a giant of a man in a purple robe. She motioned for me to do the same. I did. The man spoke in an arcane tongue for several minutes. Courtney rose. I felt pleasantly light-headed and found myself following her. The circle parted and we passed through to a small clearing. In the fire’s glow I could see a bed of leaves and pine needles had been prepared as a place for us to lie. She loosened the pink cord that held her silky robe and shrugged, letting the sheer garment fall to the ground. I saw her magnificent body as the light from the fire flickered. I remember thinking that I had never seen anything so perfect or so beautiful. Courtney smiled and nodded at me. I knew at once that she wanted me to join her. When I looked down I realized I was not wearing my clothes but a sheer white garment similar to hers. I loosened the cord holding my robe in place.