The Dark Side of the Rainbow (8 page)

She told her husband the words Landon had spoken that day.

“His love for Olivia and the pain he feels because of what happened has held him prisoner all these years. He wants very much to be a father and to love someone, but he doesn’t feel like he’s worthy. I almost feel as if he’s punishing himself.”

“That is exactly what he’s doing, Natasha.”

She lifted her head from her husband’s chest to look at him, waiting for him to explain.

“He couldn’t possibly live his life, enjoying all the blessings it has to offer. How can he think about marrying and falling in love when he took away the possibility of the same from someone else?”

“It was an accident!” she exclaimed in an irritated voice. “You really don’t believe that my brother is justified in denying himself a full life?”

Gaston looked a little exasperated by the rise in his wife’s temper. “Are you really asking me that, Natasha?”

Her ire was replaced with a sheepish look. “No, Gaston. I’m sorry.” She stood up from the couch to pace the living room floor.

When she stopped to look at her husband again, there was grief in her eyes. “I have grown weary carrying all of this sadness I feel for Landon. I feel helpless at times and desperate at others, but I know I can’t fix this for him. It’s selfish of me to feel like I have this wonderful life, but there is this one dark spot that refuses to go away.”

Standing to hold his wife, Gaston kissed the side of her head. “It is selfish, but honest.”

He pulled away to look at her. “Do you remember our vows? ’In sickness, and in health; in good times and in bad.’ There is a reason we say those words. Life has a way of mixing in a measure of pain on occasion. Those promises remind us that no matter how many dark spots try to work their way into our existence, we still love. Those vows hold true even with Landon. They are unspoken, inherent commitments to those who share our blood. It won’t always be like this, chéri.”

Gaston kissed his wife, sharing the same sadness he felt for his brother-in-law and friend.

O
livia walked into her hotel room and noticed the ivory envelope right before she stepped on it. With her free hand, she reached down to pick up the heavy linen paper. Placing it on the cherry wood dining table, she put her camera equipment away before returning her attention to the message that had her curiosity piqued.

The first thing she noticed was the strong sturdy script of the writer.
Brooke
was emblazoned across the front. She sat in the chair and opened the envelope.

Olivia felt an odd sensation of elation and was puzzled by it. She decided the feelings were because perhaps Landon was showing an interest in her and the business proposition he spoke of was simply an excuse to be with her. Had she succeeded in capturing his attention?

Embracing the hope she felt, Olivia changed out of her sweats and Under Armour outdoor attire before stepping into the shower.

* * *

L
andon looked at his watch. Brooke hadn’t called his assistant to decline so he was expecting her any moment. He looked toward the bank of elevators as she was exiting them into the lobby.

She was a very beautiful woman. What he noticed most about her was the serene, almost regal way in which she carried herself. At some point, he would ask her if she had trained to be a dancer, ballet perhaps.

Her smile touched something deep inside him.

“Good evening, Landon.”

“How are you, Brooke?”

“Well, and you?”

He smiled his response while handing her a package.

There was a look of surprise on her slightly upturned face. Her black shiny hair fell to the side at the movement.

“On my way to the lobby, I realized I was remiss in telling you we would be going into Bariloche for dinner.”

Landon, looked at her coatless figure. She wore a flared navy blue skirt with a wide-banded waist and a cropped grey angora sweater. Her legs were clad in opaque tights, and her feet were shod in red kitten heel pumps. He liked the height of her shoes. Most men seemed enamored with the stiletto heels that women wore today, but he wasn’t one of them. He much more appreciated the subtle feminine height of her classically designed footwear.

Brooke pulled out a black shawl from the package. It was a knit wrap made from the softest material she had ever felt.

“I stopped at the boutique to find something to keep you warm. I wasn’t sure what you would be wearing, so I chose black. I hope it will work.”

“It’s lovely, and wonderfully soft.” She pressed the supple fabric to her cheek, enjoying the way it felt.

Landon swallowed hard at the sight of her creamy smooth skin next to the dark plush material. He couldn’t help wondering what her cheek would feel like against his.

“My car should be warm, but let me help you put this on your shoulders.”

“Thank you.”

Under the portico of the resort entrance was a white, metallic, Maserati sedan. Landon opened the passenger door. With a light touch to Brooke’s elbow, he guided her into the warm, luxurious interior.

“It is warm in here,” she murmured as Landon put the car into drive. “So where are you taking me?”

“Dragonfly is the name of the restaurant. It’s located near Playa Bonita, one of the more popular beaches in Bariloche. It overlooks the water.”

“I should have brought my camera.” The comment was made mostly for herself.

After navigating around the bend, he looked briefly at Brooke. “If you like it, I can bring you back. Only on one condition.” The photographer met his gaze before he turned it back to the road. “When you meet our executive chef, Gaston, on the cruise, don’t tell him I took you to Dragonfly.”

Smiling at the secret game Landon was forcing her into, she replied, “You’ll have to tell me why before I make such a promise.”

“Gaston, who also happens to be my brother-in-law, is a food snob.”

Brooke laughed at the idea of a grown man being called a snob.

“You laugh, but he is and deservedly so. He took the last two restaurants he was with to three star Michelin ratings before coming to the Grand Vue. He thinks the food at Dragonfly is second rate and that the chef is obnoxious. The fact that the chef at Dragonfly is Irish makes it even worse. You see, my brother-in-law is French, and he is convinced that Ireland simply needs to focus on producing its exquisite beer, maintaining its beautiful country, and leave the creation of fine dishes to the French experts. He says the Irish are like kept women: they are beautiful to look at, but unable to maneuver around haute cuisine to save their lives.”

“Your brother-in-law sounds like an interesting man. I hate to guess what he’ll think of me when he discovers that I can barely cook an egg.”

Landon glanced at Brooke. “He’ll love you.” The words were said before he realized it. She turned away from him and focused on the road.

Wondering at her sudden quietness and wanting to put the awkward moment behind them, he told Brooke his opinion of Dragonfly. “I think the food is really good. It will never be as good as Gaston’s, but when I want something different, I enjoy the eclectic and very creative dishes the chef makes. I hope you will like it as well.” Landon had been right: Brooke appreciated the food immensely.

As they enjoyed the first course of braised swordfish collar with chorizo and clams, Landon told Brooke about the day Natasha almost killed Gaston with her bare hands, but instead fell in love.

Brooke took a sip of the recommended white wine. “I think it’s interesting that your brother-in-law was angry at your sister because of her hatred for French men, but he has his own prejudices about the Irish.”

Landon raised his glass. “Touché. Every time he grouses about Dragonfly, Natasha doesn’t hesitate to point out the same thing. Gaston is quick to turn the tables, reminding her that her prejudices were about his character, while his is about natural-born ability: God created the French to cook and the Irish were created to make good beer.”

The pure and unadulterated laughter that escaped Brooke’s enticing mouth filled Landon with wonder. He didn’t care that her enthusiastic outburst had caused a few heads to turn in the quiet restaurant; the other patrons seemed to be smiling in response. He wanted more than anything to capture her laughter and to bottle it up in a golden box, able to open it any time he wished to hear it again.

When she managed to calm the happy sound, he couldn’t resist telling her how wonderful it was.

She smiled her thanks and then asked him an unexpected question. He didn’t know how to respond. “Do you laugh often, Landon?”

Nothing could have held back the cloud of sorrow that briefly flittered over his face, nor could he lie to her. “My family gives me much joy.”
It isn’t always enough, though
, he wanted to add, but chose not to.

The next course arrived in time to save him from divulging anything more. After a thorough explanation of the dish by the server, they sipped the wine that was paired with the succulent beef.

“Your note stated you have a business proposition for me. I’m assuming it has to do with my work as a photographer?”

Landon wasn’t ready to engage in a conversation about business. He wanted to continue talking about fine cuisine and elitist French men; he wanted to talk about her.

He had taken a bite of the Argentinian beef drizzled in the rosemary and lavender oil. “Wow! That is really good! Try a taste, while I talk shop. When I found out on Sunday you were a photographer, I looked up some of your work. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” Brooke said with a smile. “And you are not kidding—this is incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it. I have been thinking about our brochure for the cruise ship. It needs to be updated. Since you’re scheduled to be on the ship in the morning, I thought we could do a trade. I will reimburse you for the cost of the excursion in exchange for new photos.”

“I think that is fair compensation. We can look at the photos I take of the scenery. There may be some you might want to include in the brochure. I should be able to use them for my other project without a problem. Do you want me there at the time on the itinerary or earlier?”

“Is 6 a.m. too early?”

She shook her head.

“Good. If we’re lucky, we can get some shots of the ship at sunrise. I would also like some taken of the interior before the passengers arrive. Then, of course, I’d like photos during the trip of some of the events and amenities.

“We actually have two separate brochures: one for the luxury three day cruise, and one for the daily excursions we offer. Would you be open to attending the one day trip to obtain photos? It will give you another chance at some shots of the lake, in case something didn’t turn out quite right the first time.”

Taking a sip of her wine, she looked thoughtful. “Will you also be joining me on the daily trip?”

Heat filled his body at the thought of spending more time with Brooke. “I’m certain I can manage some additional time away.”

Over the remaining four courses, Landon did have a chance to hear more about her. He listened with rapt attention as she described her life in the small northern town of Kalispell. Her tag line was
Living Under the Big Montana Sky
. The way she described the sparsely populated state made him want to see the place from which Brooke Johnson came.

Using her phone, she showed him some pictures she had taken of the marvelous landscape. After seeing the photos, he understood why people called Montana God’s country. Everything was so far out in the middle of nowhere, it was as if only God and nature met in the quiet beautiful places of the northern state.

Two hours later, and wonderfully sedated with good food and wine, Landon escorted Brooke to her room. When they arrived at her door, she turned to him. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.”

Almost forgetting, she reached for the shawl he had lent her from the boutique and held it out to him. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness. It did keep me warm.”

Landon didn’t accept the soft cashmere but held her gaze. “It is a gift. I want you to have it.” Suddenly, her face was flushed, and he could see an increase of air intake in the rise and fall of her chest, as if she were trying to catch her breath.

“Thank you. I will bring it on the cruise tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nodded, watching as she removed the key to her room from her clutch with trembling fingers.

When she entered the suite, Brooke took one more look at Landon through the narrowing gap of the door as it closed.

On the other side of the heavy paneled wood, Olivia leaned against the hard cool surface to steady herself. Sliding to the floor, she stifled the sobs that threatened to erupt from her, but allowed the tears to flow freely from her anguished heart.

The gift of the shawl had been her undoing. He had been very kind and attentive throughout the whole evening. It was as if they were back in Portland that long ago summer and nothing had ever changed.

Images of Landon at Dragonfly in his blue sports coat and tailored khaki pants flooded her mind. His smile and the pained look that clouded his face tugged at her resolve. Why had she asked if he laughed often? Memories from her dream played through her head. She heard her father’s voice again,
He’s suffering too
.

Olivia knew it was true, she could see it in his hazel eyes. She desperately tried to hold onto her planning. It felt like she was pouring water back into a rain cloud.

Standing from the floor, she knew now wasn’t the time to decide. Olivia would take things one day at a time. The cruise would give her time to think about what to do with Landon Gray.