The Secret of the Villa Mimosa (35 page)

He had taken her for dinner to Michel’s, an elegant restaurant overlooking the ocean, and he had talked entertainingly about the ranch and Paris and about flying and horse breeding, and he had not asked a single question about her life. She knew he was making an effort, and she began to relax, enjoying his company. But she was glad when he said a brief good-night at her door and walked quickly away, without kissing her.

In the middle of the night she had awakened with the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. Then she saw Brad’s shadowy figure by the window and the glow of his cigarette. She watched him silently, afraid to move. After a while he crushed out the cigarette and walked to the bed. Without thinking, she closed her eyes and lay perfectly still, pretending to be asleep, but even so, she could feel his gaze burning into her. Then she heard him groan. She peeked under her lashes as he strode quickly onto the terrace. The dog ran to his side, and the two of them disappeared into the night.

She sat up, shivering with fright. She thought of locking her door but told herself she was being ridiculous. Brad meant her no harm. He loved her and wanted her, and she was denying him that. And Brad was not a man used to rejection.

This morning he had been sunny and smiling, and he had not mentioned his secret visit to her room. He had suggested an excursion to the volcano crater or a drive around the island. “All I want is for you to be happy,” he’d said warmly, and she could have sworn he meant it.

But she felt a new element in their relationship. She was still attracted to him, but there were undercurrents that made her apprehensive. She was sure they had to do with the past and his childhood.

Brad climbed from the pool and came toward her, shaking water from his blond head, sleeking it back, smiling at her with his father’s hard blue eyes. Phyl wondered for the first time if the resemblance was more than skin deep.

“Tell me about Jack,” she suggested after dinner. They were in the sitting room. It was a sultry night with flashes of silvery blue lightning over the ocean and an occasional faint crackle of thunder. The night air moved sluggishly under the ceiling fans, fluttering her long hair and flattening her chiffon shirt coolly against her breasts. A Bach cantata played softly on the stereo, and there was a distant roar of surf from the rocks at the foot of the cliffs.

She kicked off her sandals and stretched out on the pale mint linen sofa, looking at Brad. He leaned forward, his hands linked in front of him. She thought she had never seen a more handsome man, but it was an abstract thought, lacking in passion. “Handsome” was not the right adjective for Brad. He was beautiful, like a perfect animal—lithe, sleek-muscled, bronzed. He was a man in the peak of physical condition, and he was also a man with a troubled past. And that was why she had come to help him.

“Jack was just like Archer,” he said. “For them the old saying ‘Like father, like son’ was true. Archer taught Jack about life and that the best man always won. Regardless of what it took to do it. Archer had no morals, and neither did Jack.”

“And is that what Jack taught you?” Phyl asked carefully.

He laughed. “I’m my own man, Dr. Phyl. And what I am has nothing to do with Jack and Archer.”

“Don’t you believe it,” she replied coolly. “Parents and families are at the root of most psychological problems today.”

“Are you planning on analyzing me then?”

His tone was suddenly cold.

“No, I am not going to analyze you,” she said smoothly. “I’m not here on business, Brad. But I am here to help you. Besides, I’m curious about your family. It’s not often one gets to hear firsthand about the rise of a dynasty such as yours.”

“They were no angels, it’s true. They just did what they felt they had to do. It all seemed logical to them, and of course, it was. Or there would be no Kane ranch today. And the one person who could have taken it away from us became Jack’s mortal enemy.

“Jack was nine years old when his father told him he had a half brother. Archer had never even mentioned another son before. Jack had simply not known. He went wild with jealousy and rage. He said he would kill his half brother, but Archer just laughed. He ruffled his hair and said indulgently, ‘Not yet, Jack. Not until Johnny’s eighteen and comes into his inheritance. It’s a fortune, young Jack. And make no mistake, we shall need it.’

“Jack said he brooded all night about what his father had said, and he realized there was nothing he could do about the half brother. Archer’s French wife had died and left him a lot of money, and he had spent it. Now he was broke. True, he had spent some of it on things that mattered: he had bought thousands of acres of ranchland on the Big Island and the best breeds of imported cattle, the finest horses. He had bought the Diamond Head mansion, expanded the lodge on Kalani, and started breeding Thoroughbred Arabians. He also had a retinue of forty servants here at the mansion and more at the lodge. He bought speedboats, a hundred-foot yacht, and a fleet of cars. He threw lavish parties and filled his swimming pool with French champagne. He bestowed diamond bracelets on beautiful and willing women, and he lived life to the hilt. Archer King’s reputation for high living and wild women spread as far as San Francisco and beyond.

“Jack had seen it all: the drinking, the women, the
lavish lifestyle. Archer never bothered to hide anything from him. Jack was a wild, outdoorsy boy who liked nothing more than riding the range with the paniolos, but when he was seven, his father decided to send him away to school in San Francisco. ‘We’ve got to civilize you, boy,’ he told him. But no school could hold Jack O’Higgins Kane for long. After he had run away a few times, Archer brought him home again.

“‘Like father, like son,’ he said proudly. ‘There’s no institution strong enough to hold down my boy.’ Then he asked Jack what he wanted from life.

“‘I’m like you, Dad,’ Jack said. ‘I want Kalani and the Kanoi Ranch. And one day it will all be mine.’”

Brad lifted his head and smiled at Phyl. “Even at that young age Jack had his priorities straight, though he did manage to get an education, of sorts, later. There were a series of unsuitable tutors here at Diamond Head, but they never seemed to work out, and for a few years Jack was allowed to run wild on ‘his’ island. At other times, he spent weeks at the ranch, living with the paniolos, roping cattle and riding the range with them.

“Jack had always been king of his castle on Kalani. He was his father’s only son and heir. There was no mother to boss him around, no one to tell him what to do. And he was a wild, turbulent, headstrong nine-year-old when the half brother arrived to live with them on
‘his’
island.”

“Trouble?” Phyl asked, smiling.

Brad shrugged carelessly. “It was just a boyish feud. Sure, Jack hated the half brother. He was the interloper. Jack was used to total authority on his island.

“Archer told him not to worry. He said the boy was a bit ‘soft in the head.’ He would stay on the island. He would never set foot on Diamond Head or the ranch or Honolulu. And that’s what happened. Of course, people knew about him, but over the years he was forgotten, and those who did recall would just say, ‘Oh,
yes, I believe there was another son. A bit crazy,’ they said. ‘Archer Kane kept him on Kalani for his own good.’”

A shiver ran down Phyl’s spine as she listened to the heartless story. She thought Archer Kane was a monster. “What happened to the boy?” she asked.

“Oh, Jack said he was a weird little kid, only five years old, undersize and thin and sort of wizened-looking. He said he looked just like a monkey. And that’s what he called him.” Brad laughed, enjoying the joke. “The Monkey. Jack said he made his life hell for a few years, and then there was some trouble on the island and the kid just disappeared. No one knew where. They thought he’d taken a boat out and drowned in a storm.”

“Like Lahilahi,” Phyl said, shocked.

“That’s a ridiculous connection,” Brad said angrily. “The boy did something stupid. The Pacific is a big ocean and treacherous. He should have known better.”

“What if he didn’t drown? What if he were still alive? What would you do, Brad, if he suddenly appeared to claim his half share of the Kane ranch?”

“You are talking nonsense,” Brad said distantly. “He will not reappear, I can assure you of that.”

“How can you be so sure?” she persisted.

“There are strong currents around Kalani. Many boats have come to grief in those waters. The bodies are usually swept out to sea.”

But Phyl thought there was something in his eyes, a wariness, as though he were hiding something. He poured himself his nightly brandy, then walked to the window, the faithful Doberman, Kanoi, at his heels. He stared at the flickering stormy sky and said moodily, “It’s all so long ago. The past is the past. What does it matter now? Archer and Jack were what they were. They knew what they wanted, and they took it.”

“And do you know what you want, Brad?” Phyl asked, suddenly curious.

His hooded gaze met hers. “Yes,” he said. “I want you.”

28

T
he lodge on Kalani was made of wood, raised on posts from the ground—a barrier against the voracious termites, I learned later. A wooden veranda called a lanai encircled it, and the roof was made from palm thatch. To me it looked like a house from a fairy tale. But it was soon the scene of my worst nightmares.

My half brother, Jack O’Higgins Kane, was nine years old and much bigger and stronger than I. He was tall and very good-looking, with his shaggy mane of yellow blond hair and hard blue eyes, like his father’s. He was a natural athlete, and he could do all the things I had never learned. He could swim like a porpoise and ride a horse bareback. He could climb the tallest palm trees, scaling them like the monkey he called me, deliberately sending the iron-hard fruits crashing down where I was standing so I had to jump out of the way to avoid being killed. He could shoot a hunting rifle and knock tin cans off a wall fifty yards away. He strode barefoot around the island, never heeding the stones in his path. He
shouted at the servants, and they were forced to jump to his bidding. Whatever Jack wanted he got.

It took me only one day and one night to realize that Jack Kane, my half brother, was my rival and my mortal enemy. He frightened me with his shouting, his contempt, his showing off. But I had Nanny Beale, and I knew I was safe with her. Then, a few days later, the motorboat returned, and with it, my father, Archer Kane.

We watched him come ashore, Nanny and I, standing back a little way from the dock. Jack rushed past us. He jumped up and down, waving excitedly. Then he dived smoothly into the water, and we could see him swimming to the boat, sleek as a seal, to meet his father. As the boat slowed, he clambered agilely aboard. We saw him gesture angrily toward us, and my stomach clenched in sudden fear because I knew he was telling his father bad things about Nanny and me.

The boat docked, and Jack leaped out first. He waited for Archer, and then the two of them walked past us toward the lodge without so much as a glance our way.

“Mr. Kane,” Nanny Beale called after them, angrily, “I need to speak to you about conditions here. They are not suitable for a young child.”

My father turned and looked at us, and for the first time I understood what “cold” eyes meant. His froze me on the spot. “The conditions here are good enough for my other son, Miss Beale,” he said in an equally icy voice. “I do not see any reason to make any changes.” He thought for a moment and then said, “I will speak to you in my office in half an hour.”

Nanny clutched my hand even tighter as we approached the office at the appointed time. I could hear her breath coming quickly, as it always did when she was agitated, and I clutched Fido to my
chest, wishing I could think of something to say to comfort her. I said, “Nanny, why don’t we just go home? Back to the Villa Mimosa. I don’t like it here.”

“That’s just what I intend to tell Mr. Archer Kane,” she declared firmly.

But Archer had beaten her to it. “Miss Beale,” he said, lifting his eyes indifferently from a newspaper he was reading, “you will pack your things immediately. The motor launch will take you to the Big Island, and from there you will take the regular cattle boat to Honolulu. Your passage has been booked to San Francisco, and your return ticket to France will be waiting for you.”