The Dark Side of the Rainbow (21 page)

She was so deep in thought she didn’t hear the sliding glass door open.

“Brooke, is everything all right?”

It was Landon’s voice.

Turning, she smiled at her friend, encouraging him to join her by the rail. “I’m fine. Lost in thought, that’s all. Thank you for coming to my rescue with Gaston earlier this evening. I guess we both deserved his payback.”

Landon chuckled. “He had me going there for a moment. I don’t think I’ll go back to Dragonfly for a while, unless you are eager to go since you can’t remember?”

“Eventually,” she replied, turning her gaze back to the moonlit landscape. “Your family is wonderful.”

“They are. Were you thinking about who your own family might be?”

Turning her gaze to look at him, she searched his eyes. “Why is it that you are able to read me so well?”

It was his turn to look away. “I think we’re a lot alike.”

“How so?”

“We feel things deeply. That day when we were in Villa La Angostura, before we went back to the ship we wandered toward a church I thought you might like to photograph. You were drawn to the cemetery. I noticed you didn’t take any photos. When I asked you why, you commented on how sacred the place was, too sacred to capture in still life. You continued to describe how death anchored the land, but how life surrounded it so that the dead never truly died. You felt that taking a picture would distill the life that ebbed and flowed on the hallow ground.”

He returned his gaze toward her. “I was very moved by your words — not as much by the beauty and elegance of them, but more because you spoke them with such depth and awareness. I couldn’t resist asking if you had lost someone. Your only response was a nod. You didn’t elaborate and I didn’t press. The pain you’re afraid of, Brooke, is real. Do you remember when I told you we all have sorrow, but how it’s worth it because of our memories of those whom we love?”

Landon paused for Brooke’s response. When she nodded her head, he added, “No one feels the way you do without great love. Your past is there waiting for you, and I want to encourage you to find out more about who you are. Do you think you can try?”

“Before you came outside, I was thinking about what you had told me. I will try.”

Landon had moved a step closer to her. Gently, he stroked the pale skin of her high cheeks. “I’ll always be here for you, Brooke, no matter what. I don’t want you to forget that.”

Her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. “I don’t know what I would have done without you these past several days. You’ve been a light in a very dark place for me. You’ve given me such happiness in a short amount of time. I hope I have been able to do the same for you.”

His hand rested on her cheek. “Words cannot describe how much joy I feel when I am in your presence.” Tenderly, he pulled her into his arms and held her, his cheek resting against the soft silkiness of her hair. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life.”

* * *

G
aston carried the tray with the coffee and desserts, setting it on the coffee table. “Shall I let them know it’s ready?”

Glancing toward the sliding glass door, all Natasha could see was the reflection of her and Gaston against the black sky outside. She reached for her husband’s hand and pulled him down on the couch with her, “No, let them be. He’s in love with her. I have begun to wonder the last few years if I would ever see him care for someone in that way.”

Pulling his wife into his arms, he held her. “It makes you happy, no?’

“It does make me happy because I like her.”

“But you are worried about something?”

Natasha rubbed Gaston’s chest, feeling the soft chambray of his light blue shirt. “What if she never remembers who she is, or what if it takes years? How do you love and build a relationship with someone who doesn’t even know who they are?”

“There would be challenges for sure.” Gaston pulled away from Natasha so he could peer into her eyes. “Considering what your brother has been through, I think the difficulties you allude to would be a walk in the park, would they not?”

“Mostly. What if she has a sordid past and remembering wreaks even more havoc on Landon’s life? I couldn’t bear seeing him go through more pain.”

“He is strong, mon amour. I think his attempted suicide has made it difficult for you to see that at times.”

Sighing, Natasha rested her head back down on her husband’s chest. “I hope you’re right, sweetheart. All I want is for my brother to start living.”

A few moments later they heard the sliding glass door open.

After shedding their coats, Landon and Brooke joined the couple in the living room to enjoy the rest of the evening. Having forgotten the story about how Natasha and Gaston met, the couple took pleasure in telling Brooke firsthand about the high-voltage encounter in the kitchen those seven-years ago. When Landon’s sister mentioned the way Gaston had kissed her in anger, Brooke couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to feel Landon’s lips on hers. Maybe soon she would learn.

F
or Brooke, the following week was a blur—a wonderful whirlwind of activity. Every free moment of Landon’s time, he spent with her. While he worked during the day, she occupied herself by doing what she came to Patagonia to do: be a photographer. Landon recommended a guide. When she insisted that she would be fine going by herself, he asked her to reconsider so that he wouldn’t be worried about her all day as she trekked across the province of Rio Negro. Touched by his concern, Brooke promised she would contact the guide.

Midweek, she was invited to have lunch with Landon and his family in the private dining room at the Grand Vue. Again, she was moved by the intimate family and their desire to be with one another. What she loved most about being with them was watching the way Isabella, Nicholas, and Landon interacted. Next to their parents, the two young children thought he hung the moon and the stars. He was very tender with them. The affection and infinite patience revealed another layer of his character to her.

After the meal was over, Nicholas had lifted up his arms to Landon, his way of asking to be held. Within minutes the toddler was fast asleep in his uncle’s strong, warm embrace. Wanting to capture the moment, Brooke reached for her camera and snapped a couple of pictures, catching the way Landon looked down at his nephew. The shot moved her more than she realized.

Brooke and Natasha were scheduled to spend the afternoon together. They had chosen that same day to take photos of the children after their nap. She would ride with the older sibling, and Landon would pick her up after work. The couple had plans to spend the evening in Bariloche.

After the kids were settled in their beds, the two women sat on the couch in the living room and enjoyed tea while they got to know each other better.

“I’ve never been to Montana. By the time my parents moved to the Northwest, I was already in Patagonia.”

“Landon mentioned they lived in Portland for a short time before moving to London. How do they enjoy living abroad?”

“They love it, and I like visiting them. When I ran NLG Property Group, I often had to make trips there, with never much time to enjoy the city. Now when we go to London to visit my parents, I get to do a lot of the things I missed.”

Natasha was about to ask Brooke if she had been to London; but caught herself, remembering that the younger woman had no recollection of the places she had been.

Somehow reading her thoughts, Brooke told her what she wanted to know. “I don’t think I’ve been to England. I suspect as much because while I know of London, I don’t have a lot of information about the city. I know a lot about Montana and the Pacific Northwest, even Portland, specific details about the area. I also know I’ve spent quite a bit of time in that part of the U.S. because of the pictures in my file.”

“I can’t imagine what you are going through, Brooke, and how you must feel.” Natasha’s sympathy was evident on her pretty face.

The photographer took a sip of her tea. “Do you know what I’m afraid of the most?”

Natasha shook her head.

“Remembering.”

Surprised, Natasha stated, “I don’t understand.”

“There were things I told Landon before the amnesia that lead me to believe that I had no one back in Kalispell. Like a sixth sense I feel things, but have no memories to associate with those feelings. I’m convinced I bear a tragic past. The thought of what that might be frightens me.”

She looked toward the fireplace, studying the stone face. “Being with your brother makes me think that I could forget my past and never regret not knowing. He has given me a lot of joy in the short time I’ve known him.”

“Making others happy comes naturally to Landon.”
Except for himself,
she wanted to add, but didn’t. Natasha knew it wasn’t her place to discuss her brother’s inner most thoughts and his own fears. She was fairly certain he would eventually reveal to Brooke his whole past and his own pain. The more she saw them together, the more convinced she was that her brother was in love.

“When Landon was eight, I was sixteen, and I had my heart broken for the first time.” Natasha sighed with a smile. “I’ll never forget Michael Bledsoe. He was the most handsome boy I had ever met, tall and tan with lovely blonde hair and the palest blue eyes. I thought he had a personality to match.” She gave Brooke a knowing wink before continuing her story. “I remember the first time he ever noticed me. The note he slipped me one afternoon in history class—it was the only period we shared together—caused my heart to beat at a clipped pace. Afraid it might be confiscated by the teacher, I waited until class was over to open it.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes when I read the neatly scripted message, W
ould you like to go to the movies with me on Saturday?
I wanted to shout from the mountain top! I was thrilled, and even more elated when my father agreed. His only condition was that I be driven to the theatre, and our driver had to chaperone.

“During the movie, Michael held my hand. I thought it was the sweetest thing. For the next two weeks, I was walking on cloud nine, already planning our wedding and how many children we would have.”

Brooke chuckled, wondering if she had done the same with whatever boy she had fallen for in high school.

“Typical girl, right?” Natasha asked. Brooke nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“We were as inseparable as two young people could be. One day when the lunch bell sounded, Michael made his way to my class, as he always did. Instead of walking me to the cafeteria, he reached for my hand and quickly pulled me into a closet. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me he couldn’t stand it any longer, he wanted to kiss me. I was thrilled, my first kiss. It was nice for a moment.” Natasha paused.

Eager to know what came next, Brooke asked, “What happened?”

“The nice kiss soon led to touching in places that made me uncomfortable. I tried to move his hands but he wouldn’t budge. I managed to pull away enough to tell him to stop, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. My mother had warned me about this possibly happening. I began to feel sick and scared, but I remembered my self-defense classes and kicked him as hard as I could in the groin.”

“Good for you!” Brooke exclaimed.

Natasha nodded. “I finally got his attention and told him that if he touched me again I would scream, and the people milling around in the hall would hear. Disgusted, I grabbed my books to leave. As I was about to open the closet door, I heard him say, ‘I told them you were a prude.’ I went to the principal’s office and called my mother.

“When I arrived home, I lay on my bed and cried my heart out. I wouldn’t come out of my room. My mother must have told Landon I wasn’t feeling well. After dinner, when I didn’t come down to eat, I remember him knocking on my door and asking me if I was all right. When I told him I was fine, he told me he was worried because he heard me crying.

“My sweet brother was worried about me. I had taken care of him all of his life and I couldn’t push him away when he wanted to be caring and kind in return. When I opened the door, he threw his arms around me. When he asked me what happened, I told him that Michael was being mean to me and that we were no longer friends. We talked for a while before it was time for him to go to bed. The next morning when I woke up he had slipped a drawing under my door. Hold on for a moment; I still have the picture.”

Brooke watched as Natasha made her way down a hallway. When she returned, she was carrying a white piece of paper and handed it to Brooke.

It was the sweetest picture. With crayon and as much detail as an eight-year-old could muster, he had drawn Michael, blue eyes and all. Using a black crayon he had given the offender a black eye. Standing to the side of the teenager was Landon dressed in a Superman costume, along with the prerequisite cape. Instead of an insignia with an S on the front of his chest he had drawn an L. It was obvious from the illustration who had given Michael Bledsoe the black eye.

When Brooke looked up at Natasha, there was tenderness in the photographer’s eyes. “These are the kind of memories that Landon was referring to the other night. He told me that while pain was inevitably part of my past, there were troves of cherished memories waiting for me to discover again. What if I have moments such as these?” she commented while looking at the drawing she held in her hand. “Special things the ones I love did for me?”

“You must have some, Brooke,” Natasha agreed.

Nodding her head, the photographer knew she had to set her fear aside. “I have to stop being afraid.”

Landon’s sister touched for her hand. “Whatever pain awaits you, my brother will be there for you. I will be here for you too.”

“Thank you, Natasha. It means a lot to know you care.”

* * *

L
ater that evening, Brooke and Landon strolled the busy streets of downtown Bariloche. He was taking her to the Francisco P. Moreno museum, named after the man who explored the Andes and Patagonia rivers and later donated the lands that would become the first national park in Argentina. There was a special event taking place that Landon thought Brooke would enjoy.