The Color of Secrets (36 page)

“Aren’t you a bit warm?” Michael eyed her curiously, sipping his coffee.

“Yes, I am,” she said with a wry smile. “I know it’s stupid—but I can’t help it.” She told him how covering up in the sun had become a way of life since the taunts she’d received as a child in Wolverhampton.

Michael’s face creased with sympathy. “That’s awful. Like—like a phobia?”

She nodded.

“But what about Tom and Rhiannon? You haven’t covered them up.”

“I used to: especially Tom,” she said. “When Rhiannon was born, I realized it was pointless, but I still couldn’t bring myself to change the way I dressed myself.” She shrugged. “I got it into my head that people would treat me better if I was light-skinned—and I can’t seem to shift it.”

“But you’re with
me
today.” He gave her a puzzled smile. “I know all about it—about your father and everything. So how could it possibly matter?”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it.” She looked away. His blue eyes were melting her insides.

“Well,” he said, draining his cup. “I’m going for a swim. You coming?”

“I
. . .
er
. . .
haven’t brought a swimsuit.”

“So?” Before she could say another word, he had scooped her up and was running down the sand dunes with her in his arms. She yelled and laughed, pummeling him with her fists, but he didn’t stop—not even when they reached the water’s edge.

She gasped as he plunged her into the sea. “Michael!” she spluttered. “You’re crazy! Look at me!” She held out her arms, her sleeves hanging like bats’ wings. He gave her a sheepish look, and she burst out laughing.

“You’ll have to take them off, now, won’t you?” He grinned. “Don’t worry—Heather’s got shorts and T-shirts that’ll probably fit you.” He ducked as she lunged at him and missed, falling flat on her face in the water.

An hour later she was back on the blanket in the dunes, feeling very self-conscious in Heather’s high-cut white shorts and halter-neck top. Michael had stayed in the sea while she went to change. Now she could see him coming up the beach. She draped a towel over her legs.

“You decent?” he called.

“As I’ll ever be.” She grimaced. “Where are the kids?”

“Heather’s taken them to get an ice cream—is that okay? I thought we could eat later.”

She nodded as he sat down beside her. She could smell his skin. A mixture of seawater and sun lotion. He settled onto his back and closed his eyes. When she was sure he wasn’t looking, she let her gaze travel the length of his body. His legs and torso were almost as tanned as his face. Blond hairs glistened on his chest. Ray’s was the only other man’s body she had studied this close. His skin had tanned easily too, but they had never had the money to go to the seaside. He’d always had a mark on his neck and arms where his collar and shirtsleeves had been. The memory of Ray triggered a wave of regret. Sometimes she felt guilty just for being alive.

Louisa took a deep breath of the salty air. The sun felt good on her skin, and the brightness of the day seemed to defy depressing thoughts. She let the towel slide from her legs as she lay back.
Today would be a new beginning
, she decided.
No more hiding
.
No more pretending to be white
. She closed her eyes. All she could hear was the distant lapping of the waves and the sweet, high call of a bird in the reedy grass behind the dunes. She was drifting into sleep when she thought she heard Michael whisper her name.

“Louisa?” The sound came from somewhere above her head. “Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes were still closed when his lips touched hers. She wanted to believe it was a dream, because then it would be all right. But the electric surge as his skin slid over her body was beyond anything her sleeping mind could have conjured. She knew it was wrong, but she let him go on kissing her until she thought her body would melt into the sand.

“I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time,” he murmured. “Since the first second I saw you.”

She opened her eyes, momentarily dazzled by the sun. “Michael,” she began, “we mustn’t
. . .
”

“I know.” He kissed her again, and she sank back onto the blanket.

“No!” She struggled out from under him. She felt dizzy, sick. What an idiot she was! The wet clothes, the ice creams—he’d set the whole thing up! It was like Quentin: the same thing all over again—except this time she had wanted it as much as Michael obviously did.

“You must think I’m a real pushover!” She grabbed the towel and jumped to her feet.

“No! Look—I’m sorry!” He took her arm as she gathered up her things. “God, I’ve ruined everything, now, haven’t I?”

“There’s nothing
to
ruin!” she yelled. “You’re
married
, Michael!”

“Am I?” He sank back onto the blanket, a defeated expression on his face.

Louisa frowned, knocked off-balance by his words.

“
Yes
, Monica and I are still married. And
yes
, we live under the same roof.” He huffed out a breath. “Would it make any difference if I told you we hadn’t slept together for three years? That we’re only staying together until Heather gets to university?”

“Michael, please don’t insult me with rubbish like that!” She began to walk away. “Why can’t you just be honest,” she threw back over her shoulder. “You want to have an affair with me? Well, I’m sorry—it was nice being your friend, but I
don’t
want to be your holiday romance!”

“I’m not lying to you, Louisa!” He ran after her and reached out, turning her around and gazing into her eyes. “It might sound like a cliché, but it happens to be true!”

A memory of the upstairs of his house flashed into her mind. That fussy pink and lilac bedroom with the lacy nightgown and slippers, the dressing table strewn with makeup and tablets. And the bigger, double-bedded room, with the guitars and the solitary bottle of aftershave.

“Why?” Her eyes searched his face. “Why would you do that?”

“The usual reasons.” His hands dropped to his sides, and he stared at the sand. “We married too young. Monica was pregnant at eighteen. We drifted apart, and she ended up having an affair.”

“
She
did?”

“Yes. She was going to leave me. Had her bags all packed. But he changed his mind at the last minute. Left her high and dry.”

“And you took her back?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Neither of us could afford to move out. We’d just bought the house from Mum’s old landlord and nearly bankrupted ourselves in the process. So we came to an agreement. We’d live in it until Heather left home, then sell up and go our separate ways.”

“Does Heather know?”

“God, no.” He dug his toes into the pale sand. “I couldn’t live with myself if I thought I’d ruined her chances of doing well at school.”

Louisa’s eyes narrowed. “So how do you explain the fact that you’re sleeping in separate rooms?”

He gave a hollow laugh. “She thinks it’s because I snore.”

Louisa frowned. It sounded plausible and she had seen the evidence with her own eyes. “So how do you cope?” she asked. “Do you both see other people?”

“I think she’s got a new boyfriend now,” he said. “She’s very discreet about it. Never spends a whole night away from home.”

“And you?” She held her breath.

“No.”

“Oh, come on! You play in a band—you must have had offers.”

He shrugged. “One or two, I suppose. But it never seemed worth the hassle. Things were complicated enough already.”

“And they’re not now?” She gave him a wry smile.

“Listen, Lou, I know this is going to sound corny as hell, but I’ve never felt like this about anyone else.”

Louisa blinked. What was she supposed to do now? He was staring at her with those fathomless eyes, and all she could think about was how it had felt to kiss him.

“Mum!”

She whipped her head around. The children were running up the beach toward them.

Tom wanted everyone to play French cricket, so she and Michael spent a strange couple of hours acting as if nothing had happened. They went back to the cottage for lunch, and then Heather asked if she could take the kids to the playground.

“Are you sure you want to?” Louisa asked her. She couldn’t help wondering if this was something Michael had put her up to.

“Yes,” she said, with a grin exactly like her father’s. “If they weren’t around, I’d have no excuse not to be studying: that’s why he’s brought me here, haven’t you, Dad? Get me away from my friends, so I won’t be distracted!”

“She’s a lovely girl,” Louisa said, watching them disappear up the path.

“I hear what you’re saying.” Michael pursed his lips. “Yes, I agree: it’s a shame about Monica and me. But we passed the point of no return a long time ago.” He reached for her hand across the table. “Do you understand how I feel about you? I’m not interested in some meaningless fling, you know.” He traced a line from the tip of her index finger to her wrist. “Do you remember that time in the woods when you bumped into me? I wanted to kiss you then. When we said good-bye, I wanted to run down the road after you. I wanted to phone you the minute you got home. I’ve spent all these months wondering what it would be like to hold you, to be with you
. . .
”

Listening to him, realizing they had both felt exactly the same from the very start, something clicked inside her head. Without a word she got up, walked around the table and sat on his lap. Taking his head in her hands, she kissed him, dizzy at the sensation of his lips on hers. “I want you so much,” she whispered. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

Chapter 39

Two weeks later, on the eve of her thirtieth birthday, Louisa walked into the most luxurious bedroom she had ever seen.

It had been Michael’s idea to spend their first night together here. In the cottage at the beach they had done little more than kiss, afraid of being discovered by the children. But now she was afraid for a different reason. Since that hot afternoon in the dunes she had thought about little else but making love to him. Now, in the conspiratorial glamour of this hotel bedroom, she was nervous. She felt her stomach ice up at the memory of the other times. The robotic fumblings with Ray that had made her feel numb and dirty. And the pain and shame of Trefor’s brutal rape.

She went over to the window. Below her couples were walking along Aberystwyth’s promenade, some hand in hand. Gina’s words buzzed inside her head.
He’s taking you to a hotel? For a dirty weekend?
Despite Louisa’s explanation, she’d been skeptical.
How can you be so sure he’s telling the truth?
Gina said it reminded her of what had happened to her: for all she knew, Andy could have spun his girlfriend a line like that.

Knowing that Gina had a point didn’t make it any easier. All Louisa knew was that she was deeply, hopelessly in love.

“I’ve been useless at work the past few days.” She felt his breath on her neck as he came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” The ice in her stomach melted. Her pulse raced at the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Michael,” she began, turning to face him. “I
. . .
I haven’t
. . .
” She didn’t know how to explain. She wanted to warn him, ask him to give her time. She was afraid of being a disappointment to him.

He put his finger up to her lips, stroking them softly. Then he was kissing her, paralyzing her with desire. He picked her up, lifted her onto the bed, and began unbuttoning her dress. A sob shook her body.

“Oh, Louisa! Darling! What’s the matter?”

Lying together, side by side on top of the covers, as the sun slid into the sea, she told him all about Trefor. All about Ray. He reached out for her, stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have just assumed
. . .
We don’t have to . . .” She heard him take a breath. “We can just go to sleep.” His fingers, massaging her scalp, sent ripples of heat along her spine.

“No.” She touched his face, letting her hand slide down to his chest. She undid one button of his shirt, then another, burying her face in the earthy warmth of his chest. She could feel his tongue on the back of her neck, tracing a path of fire over her bare shoulders. She pulled off his shirt, then wriggled out of her dress. His mouth hovered over her breasts, his hands sliding over the skin of her belly.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” His eyes were indigo pools in the twilight.

“Yes,” she murmured, “I want to know
. . .
how it feels. To
really
make love.”

The sea whispered through the open window as they shed the last of their clothes. She felt the warm, urgent tautness of him against her. A shiver of fear spread icy tentacles over her skin, but his mouth was on her neck, his hot breath and the flicker of his tongue melting her again. Her body arched with desire, shuddering as his wet fingers slid down her belly. She wondered if he could hear the noise her heart was making. She could feel her blood pumping, rainbows shooting behind her eyes. And then he was inside her. She could hear herself crying out like a wild animal.
Who was she, this woman? This new creature he had made?

Louisa lost count of the number of times they made love that night. Each time they closed their eyes, their limbs entwined, the slightest movement, the merest touch, would set them both on fire again.

At eleven o’clock the next morning they were woken by the cleaner knocking on the door. Having missed breakfast, they settled for alfresco bacon sandwiches from a kiosk on the promenade. Later they swam, Louisa in a bikini this time. Her skin was the darkest it had ever been. When she had seen her reflection after that first day at Ynyslas, she was shocked at the transformation. But as she’d gazed at her new face in the mirror, fragments of ancient summers had drifted into her mind, making her smile. This was the face of those carefree childhood days before the move to Wolverhampton.

Now, on the beach, she was aware of curious stares. Some of the looks they were attracting were downright hostile. She pulled her towel around her shoulders, determined not to let it get to her.

“I’ve got us tickets to see a band tonight,” Michael said, as they sat hand in hand, watching the waves.

“A band? In
Aberystwyth
?”

“Don’t look so surprised—they do come here, you know.”

“Who are we seeing?”

He arched his eyebrows. “It’s a surprise.”

“Oh?” She snapped the elastic of his trunks playfully. “Where, then?”

“The Arts Center. Ever been there?”

She shook her head. “It’s on the university campus, isn’t it? I thought it was just for the students.”

“No: anyone can go. So come on!” He winked as he pulled her onto her feet. “We’ve only got about five hours before it starts—do you think they’ll have finished cleaning the room yet?”

They made love in the shower before falling exhausted into bed, waking just forty minutes before the concert was due to start.

Louisa shrieked at the sight of her hair in the mirror. “Hell, look at me! I can’t go out looking like this!”

“Yes you can.” Michael slipped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “You look gorgeous.” He stretched. “Don’t know about you, but I’m famished. What shall we do about food?”

She fed him fish and chips from the wrapper as they drove up the hill. “Are you sure we’ll be allowed in?” She felt suddenly nervous, self-conscious.

“Of course we will!” He plucked another chip from the newspaper in her lap. “You’re going to love it: believe me!”

Louisa spotted the poster as they turned off the road. “Hot Chocolate! Is
that
who we’re going to see?”

Michael nodded. “You said you liked them.” He shot her a worried glance. “You did, didn’t you? I didn’t dream it?”

She leaned across the car and kissed him.

They got to their seats with less than a minute to spare. The auditorium was packed. Louisa looked around in amazement at the black people in the audience. She had had no idea there were people like herself living in Aberystwyth. She had certainly never seen any on her weekly trips to the market.

Michael had followed her eyes. “I think they’re probably students,” he said. “I guess the university brings in people from all over the world.”

She reached for his hand as the lights went down. “Thank you so much for bringing me here,” she whispered.

On Sunday evening they climbed to the top of Constitution Hill to watch the sunset over Cardigan Bay.

“Are you happy?” Michael asked, nuzzling her neck.

“What do you think?” she beamed back at him.

“Can you bear it? Waiting, I mean.” He looked at her with fear in his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, Louisa.”

“Two years.” She shrugged. “What’s two years?” She kissed the tip of his nose. “I’ve waited nearly half my life to feel the way you’ve made me feel these past few days.”

Before their next weekend together Louisa received a heavy package with a higgledy-piggledy line of American stamps. She gasped as she unfurled the reams of paper inside.

Michael was incredulous when she phoned him with the news. “A hundred and fifty thousand Willises?”

“One hundred and fifty-one thousand, four hundred and eighty-two, to be exact,” she said. “I’ve started writing down the addresses of the ones with the initial
W
and the zip code for Louisiana. I’ve got two hundred already!”

“What are you going to do?”

“Get writing, I guess. I’ll start with the ones who live in New Orleans, and if nothing comes of that, I’ll try the rest of the state.” She took a breath. “Don’t know what I’ll do after that.”

“Don’t they give some idea what age these people are?”

“No,” Louisa sighed, “I phoned them this morning to ask. They said if I had a date and place of birth, they could do a search. But I don’t even know what year he was born, let alone the date.”

“I bet your mother knows when his birthday was.”

“Yes, I’m sure she does. But after what happened last time, I daren’t push it any further. I’m quite scared of her having a stroke or something—she got so worked up about him.”

“I can understand how you feel, but writing all those letters—it’ll take you forever!” She heard him click his tongue against his teeth. “There
has
to be someone still living in New Orleans who remembers him, who could help us narrow it down a bit.”

“But how would we find them?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” he replied. “When I was over there, I noticed that all the different cities seem to have their own TV stations. What if we got in touch with the one for New Orleans and asked if they could put out some kind of appeal?”

“Do you think they would?” Louisa couldn’t imagine any television producer being interested in something as mundane as tracking down a relative.

“Well, there’s no harm in asking, is there? If you could let me have a copy of Bill’s photo and write down everything you know, I’ll find out the name of the local station. We can send it off when I come down, if you like.”

Louisa smiled as she replaced the receiver. She was touched by his enthusiasm for her search for Bill. It was as if the whole thing excited him as much as it did her.
Why was that?
she wondered.
Was it because he had never really known his own father?