by MK Schiller
“Anyway, the two of them strolled the beach until day turned into night, each voicing their fears of an uncertain future. Marco’s mother had given him the stone when he enlisted, saying it would protect him in any battle. It was the only thing of value he owned. That night, he gave it to Savitri.”
“He didn’t believe in it?”
“On the contrary, he believed with all his heart. He gave it to her because he was more concerned for her safety than his own. There is a legend surrounding the moonstone they both knew of.”
“What legend?”
“If a moonstone is given with a pure heart under the light of the full moon, it binds you to the other person. It’s a connection that can never be severed, regardless of time or distance.”
“I take it they ran off and married each other?”
I bit my cheek. “Not as easy as that. They went their separate ways. It was an impossible situation. He couldn’t abandon his post and was due to leave for Kashmir the next day. She would not go against her family’s wishes and be casted from her home. Dadima said fate could be beautiful and cruel. They had seen both sides of it.”
“But they got together eventually? I mean, obviously they did. Him being your grandfather and all.”
I was surprised how vested he was in the story, a story I’d only repeated to Hannah who never had the years with our dadima as I did. “Not for a long time.”
“They kept in touch though?”
“They never exchanged any information. They married other people and lived miserably for a great number of years. She kept the moonstone, though, and made the same wish upon it every night.”
“For them to be together.”
“That would make sense, but her mind wouldn’t even work that way. She wished for his good health and happiness wherever he was in the world. Can you imagine how unselfish it is to wish the person you love most a happiness that doesn’t include you?”
“What I really can’t grasp is that they fell in love in one day.”
As a child, I devoured the story, hanging onto every word, begging Dadima to tell it to me again. But as an adult, I, too, had become cynical and suspicious of it. “She said it wasn’t just her reaction to him, but how he made her feel about herself.”
“How did they find each other again?”
“They were both scarred by their lives. Marco lost his wife in childbirth. His son died soon after. Meanwhile, Savitri’s husband blamed her for not producing an heir. He punished her by splashing acid in her face, disfiguring her for life.”
“Are you serious? Please tell me he got what he deserved.”
“Liam, you’re missing the point. This isn’t a revenge story. It’s a love story.”
“Sounds like a tragedy to me.”
“Well, if you’d let me finish, you’d see.”
“Sorry. Please continue.”
“After that, her family finally stepped in and helped her secure a divorce. Not an easy task. Although she was free, she couldn’t come to terms with the image in the mirror. She built a shelter around herself, never leaving the house in the daytime. At night, Savitri would walk the same stretch of the Arabian coast where she’d met Marco so many years before. She clutched the moonstone in her hand during these walks. That’s where he found her, ten years later, under the light of a full moon. He’d returned to the same spot himself, trying to reclaim the memories of that night. She wore a scarf across her face. He would have missed her if it wasn’t for the shining stone in her hand. When he approached her, she ran from him, believing she was hideous. He didn’t give up, though. He waited for her to come back to the beach. After many nights of waiting, she did. This time he wouldn’t let her run. He begged her to let him see her face. When she finally lifted the veil, he took her in his arms and told her she was the most beautiful girl in the world. You see, the stone worked its magic.”
“A moonstone can cure acid burns?”
“No, Liam, nothing can do that. Her face was damaged beyond repair. But Marco wasn’t in love with Savitri’s face. He was in love with her soul. He didn’t care what packaging that soul came in. Whatever scars they’d suffered, whatever time had lapsed, whatever distance had kept them apart all disappeared. Fate had tested them in the worst ways, but their love never died.”
“They got married and lived happily after?”
“Eventually, but it took a while. He courted her, appearing at her house every single day. He made friends with her father, who was not the sort of man to approve of his daughter having a second marriage, much less to a Christian. But Marco had a strong will and the kind of personality that won people over. Savitri started believing in the possibility of a future. When she married Marco, she made a decision to never cover her face after that. She saw herself the same way he saw her. When I was a child, I always thought people darted out of our way because my dadima was so tall and regal in her elegant silk saris. It wasn’t until I was older I finally recognized the looks of disgust and fear in their faces. It occurred to me why I had never noticed before. It wasn’t just because I was a child. She ignored those cruel people and walked with an air of dignity. To me, she was always the most beautiful woman in the world. Whatever had happened on the outside never concealed the deep beauty and strength inside her. She had this incredible wisdom that blossomed in the shadow of deep tragedy. Do you understand?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His attention hadn’t wavered since I started the story. “Completely. It’s a beautiful story, Mary. Thank you for sharing it, love.”
After swallowing the large lump in my throat, I managed a weak smile. “So I’ve made you a believer in charms and talismans and all that rubbish now?”
“I’m still skeptical about the properties of moonstones, but I understand the rest of it. The moonstone is just a symbol, though. It didn’t really bring them together.”
I crossed my arms. “How can you be so cynical? Especially considering where we just came from. You felt the magic in the caves as much as I did.”
He was thoughtful for a while. “It was fine art. Who couldn’t appreciate the hard work and effort that went into something like that?”
“Admit it. There was a spirituality in those walls.”
“Okay, I agree with you. But I still think you give an inanimate object too much credit.”
“When I first held the stone, I felt something like a charge go off inside of me. I knew it held magic. You won’t change my mind on that.”
“I’m not trying to. I don’t want to change a thing about you, especially not your mind. You have a way of seeing the world that makes me believe it’s a better place.”
I had no response. In a way, he did the same thing for me.
“When did she give it to you?” he asked.
I closed my eyes tight, remembering that special night. “When she visited us in England. She told me the story then, too. My dadima was sad because she had owned more expensive jewels Marco had bought for her over the years, but she had sold them to fund my father’s education. She said the moonstone was the only thing she had to give me. I wish I could have told her then, but I didn’t have the right words.”
“Told her what?”
“I wouldn’t have traded it for all the jewels in the world. Dadima said it would keep me safe and sweeten all my dreams. Eventually, I was supposed to give it to my own true love so it would bind us forever. I would sit in bed at night and clutch the stone, saying a prayer for my dadaji in heaven and for my dadima. She never complained or even told us, but I knew she was sick. The visit was the last time I saw her. The moonstone was my inheritance. It’s as magical to me as the lotus flower.”
I cursed myself for the way my voice wavered. For taking the context of our temporary relationship and applying a deeper meaning than necessary.
I blinked in surprise. The boat wasn’t crowded, but the few passengers aboard were all staring at us…at me. They had been listening t
o the story. Liam followed my gaze. His attention had been on me, so he hadn’t realized it either. Had I been speaking too loudly? Perhaps the story just drew in people, the way it had drawn me in when I was a child. The way it drew in Hannah when I’d told it to her. Although she had never met our dadima, she’d begged me to tell the moonstone story over and over. She’d even picked up random stones on the beach and pretended they were Dadima’s moonstone.
“We can talk about this later,” Liam said.
“Do you still have it?” a woman in a bright red sari asked. The girl next to her, probably her daughter, wiped her eyes.
“Have it?” I asked.
“The moonstone?”
“No.” Although I hadn’t meant to share the private tale with Liam, let alone a ship full of strangers, I wasn’t upset. My dadima would have rejoiced if her story inspired people. Papa had always said good stories had a way of connecting people. I had seen that firsthand. Unfortunately, the ending to this story was a huge disappointment.
“What happened to it?” she asked. Her daughter gripped her mother’s shoulder, perhaps warning her against the blunt question, but I could see she was also curious.
Liam cleared his throat, his irritation apparent. “I really don’t think that’s important.”
I tilted my head to take in his expression. He wanted to defend me, to bring me under the same shield he used to keep people out. I squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Liam. I don’t mind.” I turned to the lady. “I honestly don’t know what happened to it. It wasn’t in my bag when we returned to India.”
She looked disappointed in me, as did the other passengers. “You lost it?” She made a tsking sound. “This is why you should not entrust children with family heirlooms.”
“You’re right, Auntie.”
“That’s not the point of the story,” Liam said a little harshly.
I’d always suspected my mother might have placed it in the discarded box with my father’s old records. A horrible vindictive act of revenge against Dadima for not leaving her with any expensive jewels. Or revenge against my papa for never making enough money to buy her new jewels. Or maybe even revenge against me for never wanting any of the things she wanted for me. I’d never had the courage to confront her and seek the truth. After all, no answer would have satisfied me. If she had done it, I would never forgive her. Even as a child, I understood the complexities of our relationship. I craved her love, but even more so, I needed to love her without any reservations, without the restrictions she placed on me. So I hid my suspicions and told Papa that Dadima’s moonstone had disappeared in transit. He saw how upset I was, so he didn’t ask for more details or make me feel guilty. I never admitted there was a chance I lost it…not even to myself. There was a hole at the bottom of my bag, after all. If it turned out to be my fault, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself for being so careless. Instead of acknowledging either possibility, I pretended I wasn’t ready for the moonstone’s magic, so the Hindu gods my dadima worshipped took it from me for safekeeping. In this way, I maintained my own piece of mind.
Liam stood, his long shadow falling over me. He took my hand. “Come with me.”
He led me to the ship’s railing. Standing behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist. We were both sweaty from the long day with its intense heat. The scant breeze coming off the water felt good. We watched the city come into view. He whispered in my ear to preserve our private moment, although no one was listening to us anymore. “I’m sorry, Mary. Your grandmother sounds like an astonishing woman.” His warm accented voice sent a shiver up my spine despite the humidity.
“She was.”
“Your inheritance wasn’t the moonstone. It was the story.”
I had never thought of it that way.
“You also inherited other things from her that are more precious than any gem. You got her strength, her grace, and her compassion. Those things live on. She lives on because her spirit exists in you. You have it in here.” He put his hand over my heart. Wasn’t this similar to what I’d said to him not so long ago? Except it was much deeper than what I could say. My hand gripped the railing because my knees were shaking so hard I doubted they could sustain me. They might not have if he didn’t hold me so close.
“I hope so, Liam. Thank you.”
“Welcome, love. But there is no need for hope. It’s true.” He kissed my temple. He tapped his fingers on the railing, the sound akin to a beating drum. “You have it all wrong, though. Although I’m not a true believer about moonstones as you are, you have to realize purchasing the necklace for you would not have the same effect.”
“What do you mean?”
He gestured to the horizon. “The sun is just setting, and I’m pretty sure it’s not a full moon tonight. It would have just been a small gesture on my part. I like seeing you happy, too. I’m trying, and most likely failing, to figure out just how to do that.”
I turned to him. I caressed the angles of his face, so perfectly sharp they appeared chiseled like the statues in the cave. “I am happy. I don’t need clothes or jewels. This moment right here, watching the sunset with you, makes me happy.”
“Still, I wish you’d let me do more for you.”
The heavy emotions anchoring me down suddenly lifted. “You’re right. We should go back and get the necklace.”
His mouth dropped. I laughed and smacked his chest. “I’m kidding.”
* * * *
When we got back to the hotel, Liam asked where what I wanted for dinner.
“You choose, but I have to take a shower first.” I winced when I caught my reflection in the ornate mirror hanging above the dresser. My hair had morphed into a frizzy, damp mess. He stood behind me, a raw hunger in his eyes as if he saw something different in the mirror than I did. Perhaps it was the visit to the island or that I’d revealed such a private story to him. But something crackled between us, an energy that needed to be released.
“Me too.” His eyes locked on mine. He took my hand and led me into the bathroom.
We peeled our sticky clothes off each other. Under a spray of warm water, his powerful, large hands ran soap over my body.
“Turn around,” he said.
I leaned against his solid chest while he washed my hair with almond-scented shampoo. It was his long talented fingers, not the expensive shampoo, that left my scalp tingling. The water rinsed away any doubts I harbored about my feelings for Liam. His powerful hands massaged my shoulders and back, relaxing every tense muscle.
“My turn,” he said. He gripped my hips and moved us in the opposite direction. He leaned his head back. The water drenched him, running in rivulets down his hard, lean body. I lathered the soap. I pressed my palms against his chest, working my way down in slow circles. He closed his eyes and mumbled something appreciative. I went lower. His eyes snapped open.
“Mary…” He stretched the syllables of my name in a combination of whisper and growl that left my body trembling and my mind daring at the same time.
He looked down at my hand encircling his erection. What was it about him that made me so bold? I wanted to surrender to his lead and be in control at the same time.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to fuck you against this wall. It wouldn’t be a good idea since we don’t have a condom in here.”
“That can be remedied, sir.”
He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. His kissed my forehead. The moment was a complete duality—lusty and tender at the same time.
He skimmed my nipples with his thumbs. They turned hard at his touch. Then he slid his hands further down my body. He traced my slit, back and forth. I gripped him tighter, urging him deeper, but he kept the same movement. I’d found myself at the crossroads of agony and ecstasy.
“Please.”
He entered me, his green-brown eyes piecing me with the same depths as his finger.
“You are so wet, Miss Costa.”
“Well, I a
m in the shower.”
“And you’re a smartass, too.”
He covered my mouth with a rough kiss. Two of his fingers curved inside me, thrusting gently. I lost focus on my own task. Until he reminded me, circling his hand over mine, showing me how he preferred to be touched, all the while his fingers penetrated me. As I moaned, he quickened his speed, his mouth laying hungry kisses down my neck. He was a conductor, commanding my body to sing as it never had. His thumb pressed into my nub.
“Liam, please.”
“Please what? You have to finish the sentence.” He traced the shell of my ear. Then he nipped my earlobe. “Finish the fucking sentence.”
“I want you inside of me.”
His fingers moved faster. “I am inside of you, lover. Do you want more of me?”
I nodded, unable to articulate anything. His lips followed the trail his fingers had made until he fell to this knees. His pressed his mouth against me, his face tilted up, his eyes watching me. It was too much and not enough. I flayed my arms for something to steady me. He hooked my leg over his shoulder. His hands tightened their grip on my waist. I lost myself in Liam Montgomery. In the feel of his mouth, the touch of his hands, the lusty glint of his eyes. Whatever dream this was, I didn’t want to wake. I came undone.
I would have fallen if he hadn’t kept me steady. He turned off the valve. He dried me off with a soft, thick towel. Then I did the same for him. He carried me to the bed. The satin sheets cooled my over-heated skin. I shivered against the drop in temperature until he slid on top of me, pressing me into the soft bed.
He ripped the condom packet in his mouth. With one swift move, he was inside me. I lifted my hips off the bed to meet each one of his urgent thrusts. His damp hair was the color of sand, yet it had the feel of soft silk under my fingers. Just as he’d done in the shower, he adjusted my leg over his shoulder. It felt different in the horizontal. He stretched me. My body welcomed him. Each drive was deeper than the last, leaving me breathless. Liam pulled all the way out. I groaned in protest. He lunged inside me again. I screamed in pleasure. He held my wrists down, his arms flexing with each movement. Our eyes locked. We spoke in the language of lovers…grunts, moans, and growls. Yet, in that moment, we communicated with depth and precision.
