Stone, Katherine (4 page)

The servicemen who frequented the bars in Wanchai were high on
drugs and drink and lust. Surely the girls who worked there didn't feel about
their sailors the way she felt about Garrett... or did they?

Did they tremble with wanting?

Did they need to breathe the very air he breathed?

And did they know their hearts would break when they said goodbye?

They couldn't possibly feel what she felt. Not day after day,
night after night, a new man every time.

"Juliana? What is it? You seem so sad."

"I was missing you."

"I've missed you all my life, Juliana. Now that I've found
you, I won't ever let you go."

It was the first lie he'd told her. But, Juliana thought, he
doesn't know it's a lie. He believes we have forever.

She wanted to believe it, too. But there was the ominous pulse
within her, its every beat a small death. She tried to dismiss it, believing
that if it was possible for them to be together Garrett would make it happen.

The pulse would not be still.

Even you, Garrett, she thought, even
you
cannot change
destiny.

***

"You've never made love," he said when they were alone
in his room. "Have you?"

"There's never been anyone.... I've never wanted to."

"We don't have to make love now, Juliana, not until you're
ready. There's no hurry."

"You have to return to Vietnam."

"Yes. But I'll come back to you whenever I can. And when my
tour of duty is over—"

"Make love to me now, Garrett." There
is
a reason
to hurry. We don't have forever. I don't know why. I only know it's a truth
even more powerful than our love.

Garrett had made love many times, emotionally detached yet
masterful forays into pleasure. Loving Juliana bore no resemblance to anything that
had come before. She was delicate, yet her passion was as strong as his, her
desire fearless and unashamed. She awakened within him a tenderness that had
been waiting for her alone.

***

In the morning, a suitcase arrived for Juliana. It was filled with
beautiful clothes to be worn for the man she loved.

"From my aunt."

"She
is
modern. I'd like to meet her."

"You will."

But Garrett never met Vivian. When Juliana called to thank her for
the clothes and suggest they meet for tea at the Pen, Vivian declined—as if
she, too, sensed that the next six days were all the young lovers were to have.

"I'll write to you," Garrett promised before he left.
"And I'll be back as soon as I can. Please don't cry, Juliana." He
kissed her tears as he fought his own. "I
will
be back."

No, you won't, she thought with a certainty that terrified her.

The certainty was offset, a little, by Juliana's equally confident
belief that although Garrett was returning to war, he wasn't going to die.

"I love you, Juliana."

"I love you too, Garrett—always."

When
Garrett and Juliana left their magical world of love, each found
tragedy awaiting them. For Juliana, the massive heart attack suffered by Vivian
during her absence was grim proof that her love for Garrett was as forbidden,
as
dangerous,
as her girlhood dreams of life on land. For Garrett, the
death of his older brother in a fireball above the jungles of Vietnam meant
blinding rage and a wish for revenge that verged on madness.

But it didn't mean his love for Juliana was wrong.

Nonetheless, Blake's death took Garrett away from her.

On his way home to Dallas, during a refueling stop in Tokyo, he
placed a phone call to the house overlooking Happy Valley. As soon as he
identified himself, an obviously hostile housekeeper told him what had happened
to Vivian. She was convalescing, the woman conceded, better now that Juliana
was at her bedside, where she
should
have been from the
beginning—instead of with him.

Garrett knew no messages had been left for Juliana at the
Peninsula. Vivian had known where Juliana was and had chosen not to send for her.
Garrett might have tried to deflect the housekeeper's fury, but he didn't.
Neither did he attempt to reach Juliana at the hospital. Now wasn't the time to
share his tragedy with her. And if Juliana heard his voice, she'd know a
terrible sadness had befallen him, too. He'd call her from Dallas.

Dallas... The glaring Texas sun threatened to burn from his memory
the delicate images of Juliana and their love.

Only five days had passed since he'd kissed her tears, but as
Garrett phoned Juliana, she seemed a phantom to him. Then he heard her voice,
and though it was soft and far away, journeying into the vastness of space
before reaching him, she was
real,
his memories were real,

Her love soothed the raw wounds of his heart.

Juliana's love had undoubtedly healed Vivian, as well. She was
home already, stronger every day. But it was too soon for Juliana to leave her.
It was also too soon for his parents to welcome Juliana into their home. Their
hatred of all things Asian, an irrational emotion born of grief, was quite
specific when it came to Hong Kong. For four tormented days following Blake's
death, when they hadn't known where Garrett was, it felt as if they'd lost both
sons.

Douglas and Pauline Whitaker had expected Garrett to sense his
brother's death. Garrett would have expected it, too. It seemed impossible that
Blake's heart could stop without a sympathetic response from his own. Because
he'd been lost in Juliana, the silent scream of his brother's dying heart had
gone unheard—and for that Garrett felt great guilt.

Blake had been the heir and Garrett the spare. On his return from
Vietnam, Blake had planned to manage, with their father, the empire of
companies that started with Texas oil and had long since diversified. That was
what the heir planned— and the spare?

Garrett had always been the more restless, and the more reckless.
But he was also the more patriotic. He flew for the Navy until he became one of
its top guns. After his flying days were over, and because he was too impatient
for politics, he'd planned to become a military commander to whom the
Commander-in-Chief would turn for advice.

Of the Whitaker brothers, Garrett was the one destined for
greatness—or disaster. But the disaster had befallen Blake, and greatness for
Garrett was a greatness of character.

The restless, reckless son became the responsible one.

"I'm coming back to Hong Kong as soon as I can,
Juliana," he promised. "But I need to be here now, helping my parents
deal with their sadness and learning to run my father's businesses."

"You can't ever return to Hong Kong, Garrett."

"What? Juliana—" He stopped abruptly because the second
half of her pronouncement was just arriving.

"And I can't ever leave."

Garrett was willing to give up every restless urge to soar among
the clouds—but not the dream of Juliana. "We're going to spend our lives
together. I'm returning to Hong Kong, Juliana."

"
No
, Garrett, you cannot. You
must
not. Don't
you see?"

"All I know, Juliana, all I see, is that I love you."

"And I love you! But look what harm our love has already
caused those we love. Your brother, my aunt."

"You
can't
believe our love had anything to do with
what happened."

"But I do, Garrett," Juliana answered, and in the
solemnity of her words Garrett heard centuries of Chinese tradition, the
abiding belief in the preordained mandates of the heavens— and the serene
acceptance of that celestial destiny. "Even when we were together, I
sensed the time we had was all that was meant to be."

"You're feeling guilty that your aunt needed you and you
weren't there for her. I feel the same guilt about Blake. I was so lost in our
love I didn't even sense the moment of his death. But that's because our love
is so
strong,
Juliana, and so
right.
I'm coming to Hong
Kong."

"No, Garrett! Please promise me you won't—ever."

"I love you, Juliana."

"And I love you! I'll never love anyone else. But please,
please,
promise me you won't return."

"How can I promise you that?"

"Because you've told me you love me. If you do, you'll make
me that promise."

Women had tried to test Garrett's commitment to them before,
issuing silly ultimatums, forcing him to reveal his true indifference, then
raging at him for it, then pleading for another chance. But the only woman he'd
ever love wasn't testing him. Juliana knew his love for her,
knew
he'd
never compel her to live a life of fear.

"I promise, Juliana. I won't come to Hong Kong, nor will I
try to change your mind. But I'll always love you, all my life. Only you."

"And I will love you, Garrett, only you."

"I'll wait for you, Juliana. When it feels safe for you, I'll
be here."

"It won't ever feel safe, Garrett. Please don't wait for me.
Make me that promise, too."

***

Garrett Whitaker had known Elizabeth Parish all her life. Their
parents had been friends forever and with the birth of their children, the
bonds became even closer. The Parishes loved Blake and Garrett as if the boys
were their own, and to the Whitakers, Beth was the daughter they'd never have.

The moment Beth focused her young eyes beyond her parents, she
became entranced with Garrett. As a little girl, she followed him like a
shadow, her admiration unconcealed, his amusement at her idolatry as fond as a
brother's.

It was Blake who made the discovery that the coltish Beth had
become a willowy beauty. She should have been infatuated with Blake, the crown
prince, but it was Garrett she wanted.
He
was her Prince Charming.

Garrett cared enough about Beth to hide from her his
not-so-charming aspects. He was her friend, never her boyfriend, never even her
date. Beth believed she and Garrett would marry. In the meantime, their
friendship flourished.

Beth saved every letter Garrett wrote her from the Naval Academy,
from flight school, from Vietnam. Garrett kept each of Beth's many letters only
until the next one arrived, rereading it more than once in the interim. He
received letters from a number of women during his tour in Vietnam, but Beth's
were the only ones he ever answered. If a little emotion spilled into his
words, a little anger or frustration or sadness, it was all right to reveal
such vulnerability to Beth.

Until Juliana, Garrett didn't understand Beth's love for him.
After Juliana had said goodbye forever, he realized he loved Beth, too. It
wasn't the love he felt for Juliana, the once-in-a-lifetime passion that shut
out the world. But it had history and respect and caring.

Garrett had promised Juliana he'd never ask from destiny more than
the week they'd been granted. He made an equally solemn vow to himself that
Beth would never know there'd been a woman named Juliana.

Garrett and Beth were married two months after his return to
Dallas. The wedding appeared rushed to outsiders. But to parents struggling to
find a glimmer of hope following the death of a son, it came just in time.

***

He needs me.
Juliana's thought came with such
certainty it couldn't be denied.

Garrett's heart was calling to her, while her own overflowed with
emotion as she cradled his two-day-old daughter in her arms.

Garrett had left her with the most precious gift of love, but he
had only memories. And now, the thought was telling her, the memories of their
love weren't enough. He needed more.

What consequences will there be if I call him? she demanded of the
fates. Who will be harmed?

No one,
please.
It's just a phone call and he needs me
so
much.

***

It was midnight when Garrett pulled into his driveway for the
first time in forty-eight hours. The doctors, insistent that he get some sleep,
had banished him from the neonatal intensive care unit until morning. He'd be
alone in the Highland Park mansion. His parents were staying with the Parishes.
Robert and Iris needed them more than he did.

The phone was ringing as he opened the front door.

Something's happened, he thought as he rushed to it. They said she
was stable, but she knows my voice, knows I'm gone, and... "Hello?"

"Garrett?"

"Juliana," he whispered, hoarse with the need she'd
sensed and the emotion he'd held so tightly in check.
"Juliana."

When he could speak, Garrett told her about his marriage. His love
for Beth was a different love from theirs, but a good and gentle one. Beth had
become pregnant shortly after their wedding and the next seven months were
happy. Blake's death behind them, both families were beginning to heal.

Two days ago, on New Year's Eve morning, Beth's bleeding started,
an exsanguinating torrent that stole her consciousness—and her life.

The baby girl was delivered just before Beth died. Two months
premature, the doctors believed she wouldn't survive the day. But she
had,
one
day, then two, and tonight the doctors pronounced her so stable he was to go
home for a few hours of rest.

Tears filled Juliana's eyes as she heard Garrett's anguish, but
she filled her voice with confidence. "She
will
survive. And she'll
have your courage, your goodness, your strength. Will you tell me about her,
Garrett? Will you tell me about your baby girl?"

"Her name is Allison," he began with a father's loving
pride. "She was born at nine on the morning of the thirty-first. She's
tiny, Juliana.
So
tiny. But she's a fighter. And," he added
quietly, "I'm sure she'll grow up to look like Beth."

"Who was very lovely."

"Very lovely, and happy, and—" Emotion clogged his
voice.

Eventually, at Juliana's urging, he spoke again. They talked, for
a long time, about Beth, and Allison, and Vivian— who was as good as new.

Juliana confessed it was only because she'd sensed his need that
she'd made the forbidden call. Garrett knew without her saying it that nothing
had changed. And now he, too, believed the six days of love were all they were
meant to have. He couldn't return to Juliana. He owed far more than that to
Beth, and her parents. Most of all, he owed the infant girl who was fighting so
valiantly to survive, owed her the unwavering belief that she was the child of
a great and enduring love.

Garrett would never return to Hong Kong, and Juliana would never
leave.

Neither wanted to say goodbye. Both knew their farewell would be
forever. During the silences between their words, Juliana made a decision.

"Allison looks like Beth, Garrett, but your other daughter
looks like you."

The whisper that traveled back through space was hoarse with
pain—and soft with hope. "My other daughter, Juliana?"

"She was born at ten fifty-five in the evening on New Year's
Day," Juliana said, astonished by the coincidence. "With the time
difference between Hong Kong and Dallas, she was born five minutes before
Allison. They're sisters, Garrett, born as if they were twins."

"And she's fine, Juliana?
You're
fine?"

"Yes." Hers had been a labor of pure love. "We're
both just fine."

"Good," he whispered. "What's her name?"

Juliana answered first in Cantonese. "It means Daughter of
Greatest Love."

"Daughter of Greatest Love," Garrett echoed as he
thought about the daughters, the sisters, the almost-twins. The firstborn's
name was Daughter of Greatest Love, and that was who she was, but the other,
Allison, would believe it could have been her name, as well.

"That's her private name," Juliana said. "To the
world she'll be Maylene. Is that all right with you, Garrett? It's neither
Chinese nor American, but a little of both, just as she is. And unique, as she
is."