by Rita Hogan
After the meal, when Landon had rolled up his sleeves to help with the dishes, Natasha noticed his one bandaged and one bare wrist. She knew what had changed. Landon had told Brooke about the accident and his attempted suicide. If there had been a shred of doubt about his feelings for the young photographer, they were gone. Her brother would never have shared his deepest vulnerabilities with her if he didn’t love her.
The waffle maker beeped. After removing the fresh batch, Natasha contemplated the whisper of concern that flittered around in the back of her mind.
Before they left for Chile, Natasha had invited Brooke over for lunch while Landon and Gaston were working. They had a wonderful afternoon together. It was easy talking to the woman his brother loved. Even though she couldn’t remember her past, she was insightful, open, and kind.
“Landon told me about the accident and his attempted suicide.” Brooke confirmed what Natasha had already surmised. They were on the deck watching the children as they played. It was a warm afternoon, and they were enjoying the fresh air.
“I suspected as much on Sunday when I saw his wrists.” Natasha wondered if Landon had also told her about his past feelings for Olivia, but she didn’t dare ask, in case he had not mentioned his tender feelings for the young woman. “From what I can tell, you seem to be fine with his past.”
Brooke looked at Natasha. “I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s worse at night when I am trying to fall asleep. I feel such sorrow for him. I’m sure he doesn’t want me to feel as I do, but it’s hard when I think of how I may never have met him.” Holding Natasha’s gaze, she added, “I love him.” The statement was simply said, but the older woman felt the intensity of the words spoken from a full heart.
Placing her hand on top of Brooke’s, Natasha assured her. “I can’t speak for my brother, but I know him well enough to know that his feelings for you are strong. For years, he has been in a holding pattern, a sort of purgatory for his sins, refusing to live life and to hope for a future. You have given him something to live for once more. You’ve done for him what no one has ever been able to do, not even me. I’m very grateful.”
The combination of the bright sun and the shimmer of emotion in Brooke’s eyes were stunning. Natasha had been so dazzled by the emerald green brilliance, she had been taken aback for a moment.
Placing the plate of waffles on the table, Natasha paused in her reflection of that afternoon. That’s it, she thought to herself as she hurriedly reached for her tablet that was resting on the small built-in writing desk in the kitchen. Quickly, she entered “Brooke Johnson” and clicked the search button.
Natasha clicked on the images link. The two photos of Brooke Johnson showed her with brown-black eyes, not the emerald green she had known her to have. Why? Why are her eyes black in these photos? She thought of the accident. Were they green or black before she went to the hospital?
With growing concern, Natasha wondered where she had seen those eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Good morning, sir. How may I help you?” inquired the front desk clerk at the Lake House.
“Yes, we have reservations for a Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.”
Brooke was standing next to Landon, admiring his handsome profile. He had kept his sunglasses on to help protect his identity in case one of the employees recognized him. She smiled when she realized he had used her last name, identifying them as a married couple.
“Will you be paying with the same credit card used to hold the reservation, Mr. Johnson?”
“Yes, please.”
“Terrific. One moment and I will have your room keys ready for you. Will you need any help with your baggage?”
“No, thank you.” Landon quickly signed the paperwork.
After receiving the room cards, he reached for Brooke’s hand. Together they walked to the bank of elevators where Tomas, who was also wearing sunglasses, stood with the luggage rack. He appeared to be using the large metal frame as cover.
When the elevator doors closed, she couldn’t resist chuckling. “I feel like we’re starring in a parody of Mission Impossible. You both are very obvious.”
The two executives laughed at her comment, while removing their sunglasses. “Hey, at least we haven’t been noticed,” Tomas said with a grin.
“Keep it up and you will be,” she chided good naturedly.
“Maybe they’ll think we’re movie stars trying not to be recognized,” Landon added.
Brooke flashed him a smile. “Well, I hadn’t thought about that.” Glancing at Tomas, who was standing next to Landon, she said, “You two definitely pass for movie star material.”
Tugging gently on her hand, Landon chastised. “Hey, now.”
Brooke thought about the afternoon in the café when she had mentioned how handsome Tomas was and grinned at the man she adored. No one could ever be more beautiful in her eyes than him.
Tomas quipped. “I rather like hearing her speak, Landon.”
Brooke wasn’t able to see the look Landon gave Tomas, but she had an idea of the proprietary message. The way Tomas cleared his throat and turned his eyes toward the elevator door confirmed it.
When they entered the suite, Brooke’s mouth nearly fell open. She took in her opulent surroundings, complete with a baby grand piano that was currently on auto play, hammering out Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. The image of the keys depressing on their own brought to mind visions of phantoms and operas. Kicking off her heels, she sank her bare feet into the plushest pile of carpeting she was sure they had ever touched.
“I know I don’t remember anything before my accident, but I am certain I have never seen anything more luxurious or glamorous.”
Her appreciation pleased Landon. “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. I’m sure you could stand here in awe all day, but I am eager to show you Punta Arenas. Are you able to tear yourself away for a while?”
“I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.” Brooke hadn’t intended to say the thought out loud.
Tomas cleared his throat as if to remind the couple that he hadn’t left the room.
Brooke blushed.
Landon, who appeared nonplused by the comment, was churning on the inside with a storm of emotions. Quickly, he directed each person to their room, placing Tomas in between his and hers. The arrangement was strategic, and everyone knew it. If Landon was going to be in close proximity to Brooke for the next few days, Tomas would have to act as a buffer, helping to keep Landon in line.
* * *
Thirty minutes later they were in a rented car headed toward the outskirts of Punta Arenas.
“Where are we going?” Brooke asked, noticing they were leaving the city.
“I’m taking you to the Hotel Salto Chico.”
“Really?” she replied with incredulity. “What are we going to do when we get there?”
He glanced at Brooke. “Park.”
Landon had told her to bring her camera. She assumed they would be outdoors.
When she saw the mountain range looming in the distance with a white modern hotel in the foreground, she knew this must be their destination.
“I’ll never get tired of looking at rock formations. They take my breath away every time. It’s beautiful, Landon. How interesting that some of the peaks have a sort of flat look as if they were pressed as the rock was cooling.”
“That is the Torres del Paine National Park. I thought you might enjoy a preview before we have dinner in town.”
Landon pulled into a parking spot on the outer edge of the hotel’s lot.
“Preview?” Book questioned.
“I hope you don’t mind. I arranged a tour for you tomorrow with one of the hotel’s guides. I wanted to take you myself, but duty calls.”
“I would rather go with you, but I’m thankful for the tour. What time do I leave?” she asked before exiting the car.
Standing, Landon replied. “Not until ten.” He clicked the button on the key fob which opened the trunk. Reaching inside he re
moved a blanket, a backpack, and her camera bag.
“Here, let me carry my bag; you have your hands full,” Brooke offered as she gestured with her hand.
“It’s all right. We won’t be going too far. There is a plateau about a quarter of a mile from the lot that would make a good resting spot.”
“Thank you again for asking me to join you here in Chile. I only wish we were here under better circumstances.”
He glanced at her. “As do I.”
They made good time of the quarter mile. When they arrived at the plateau, Landon laid out the thick blanket he had taken from the hotel room while Brooke worked on her camera. When she was ready to begin shooting, she looked at Landon. “Do you want to walk with me?”
“You go ahead. I want to watch you work.”
It didn’t take Brooke long to become engrossed in her task. It was as if a switch had been turned on, causing her to focus on nothing but her craft.
Landon sat on the blanket with his knees drawn to his chest. Crossing his arms over his bent limbs, he watched her with a mixture of longing and heartache. He loved her so much; he had always loved her. The afternoon when they were fly fishing and he told her about the accident, he knew it was time.
He felt his gut clenching in fear. What would she do when he told her that she was Olivia Nelson, the sister of the boy who had lost his life at the hand of his carelessness? She would despise him, as much as she had before she lost her memory.
A physical pain filled his heart when he thought about why she was here in Patagonia, pretending to be Brooke Johnson. He had known she was coming. The private investigator he hired to check on her had warned him. He’d been tracking her for the past seven months.
When Landon read the fax the investigator had sent almost six months ago about her encounter with some depraved men in Chicago outside the forger’s shop, he had become physically ill. It didn’t matter that Olivia had been smart enough and brave enough to have a weapon and actually threaten the offenders with it; the fact that she had been a hairsbreadth away from being raped and/or murdered was something he couldn’t stomach.
He actually felt relieved when he saw her at the airport over a month ago because he knew here she would be safe . . . or so he thought. Olivia may have been safe from rapists, but not from him. The image of her crashing into the bitt onboard The Absolution a week later made him want to weep. Why? he wanted to shout. Was she destined to suffer by his hand at every turn?
More pain was the last thing Landon wanted for her, even though he knew she meant ill toward him.
It had been incredibly hard to see her again after so many years and pretend to not know her. He knew it would be difficult, even agonizing, but he hadn’t been prepared. When he encountered Olivia in the dining room on her second evening at the Grand Vue, and she had assumed the investor’s daughter was his girlfriend, it was everything he could to do to not grab her by the shoulders and shake her. He had wanted desperately to tell her that she, Olivia Nelson, was the only woman he had ever wanted.
He played along with her charade, because the need to see her had been too great and he had been too weak. When he sent the note inviting her to dinner the night they went to Dragonfly, Landon decided he would go along with whatever plot of revenge she had concocted. He would take advantage of Olivia’s ploy in order to carve a piece of heaven on earth for himself. He would spin a clutch of memories to last him for the rest of his lonely life. When she was gone from him forever, he would sift through the moments he had with her in Patagonia and pretend they had been real.
The week before her accident, he had almost convinced himself that she was Brooke Johnson, the upstart photographer from Kalispell, Montana. That night at Dragonfly when she laughed at his stories about Gaston, he had forgotten how much she hated him. As the days went by, the lines of reality and fantasy began to blur even further.
Their port of call in Villa La Angostura had been magical with a good measure of sorrow thrown into the mix. From the ride in the cab to the moment in the cemetery, Landon had felt glimmers of hope that somehow Olivia’s feelings for him were changing. Instead of despising him, was she beginning to see him for who he really was? During the cab ride back to the boat, reality had made a comeback. Landon knew he had to leave, that he could no longer go on with the charade.
His will weak, he had succumbed to her invitation to dine on her deck that very same night. He would have one last moment with her, one last fictitious memory to get him through the rest of his nights. When Olivia invited him to dance, all his dreams of wanting to know what it felt like to be held by her and to taste her sweetness came true. With the lines once again blurred, he took from her and felt her desire as fierce as his own. Olivia’s heart may have hated him, but her body had said something altogether different. Thoughts of a future together had crept into his mind. Knowing it was impossible, he ended the evening.
Glancing over at Olivia, he watched as she lay on the hard ground of the plateau to obtain a different angle of the mountain range. When she stood, she turned her attention to him. Smiling, she waved before quickly clicking a picture of him. He waved back, sighing to himself. When she returned to her work, he lay down on the blanket with his arms under his head and stared up at the cloudy blue sky.
Wretched, was what he thought about himself when he remembered their time in the hospital. The honest-to-goodness hope that had flooded his soul when he realized she had amnesia later made him feel like a heel. For the first few days, he had viewed her memory loss as a gift. This was his chance for her to fall in love with him. If Olivia did remember, there would be no turning away from him because she would be as mad for him as he was for her. All would be forgiven, her plot forgotten. On the last day of the seventy-two hour vigil, when she expressed her fear of remembering, he knew she had to know, regardless of how she felt about him.
As for her feelings, Landon was certain his wishes had come true and she was falling in love with him. Nothing in Olivia’s mind was holding her back from giving him her heart. There was no horrible truth forcing her to pretend she enjoyed his company. Void of the aching loss of her brother, whom she had loved more than anyone, her heart was open; it yielded to his tenderness. She was responding to his dance of love in a way he had only dreamed.
If Olivia never remembered who she was, Landon would always know. The truth would eat away at the life he wanted to build with her. He had decided the afternoon of fly fishing that he would reveal everything to her when they returned from Chile. It was time.
Too focused on his thoughts, Landon didn’t hear Olivia approaching. He saw her out of the corner of his eye when she bent to kneel by his side. He didn’t sit up when she touched his arm, but turned his head slightly to pull her fully into view.
Lightly, she touched his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “Landon, are you all right?” Her eyes were filled with concern.
He didn’t answer, but held her gaze. Carefully, he removed the camera strap from around her neck, placing the expensive piece of equipment down on his other side. Gently, he pulled her down to lay alongside him.
Olivia rested her head in the crook of his strong arm and shoulder, laying her hand on his chest. He nuzzled the soft tresses of her hair, missing her natural fiery-red curls. It was time for a number of things.
After several long moments of lying together in each other’s arms, Landon was the first to speak. “I love you,” . . . Olivia. He couldn’t bring himself to say the name Brooke after uttering the words his heart had been desperate to say for too long. Until he told her who she was, he would have to call her Brooke, but not now.
Brooke wasn’t sure if she had been dreaming. Lulled by the contentment of lying in his arms, she couldn’t be sure if she heard him right.
Lifting herself up onto her elbow, Brooke looked down at him. “Landon?” Her heart ached at the sight of the naked emotion she saw shimmering in his eyes.
“I love you,” he said again.
Pullin
g herself up, she knelt beside him, leaned over him, and brushed the soft brown hair from his brow. “Do you really love me?” She wanted to know, afraid to believe.
Landon sat up to face the woman he cherished, nodding his head.
“How can you be sure? You know nothing about me!”
Thinking back to their summer of meetings at the Espresso Room and the time they had spent together in this faraway land, he answered her. “I know that you are kind. The ability to fully love abides deep inside of you. It is like an endless river that flows wide and free, bringing sustenance to those who draw near to you.”
He ached at the sight of her tears, wiping the fallen ones away from her smooth skin.
As Landon spoke, he cradled her face within his hands. “I also know there is nothing you won’t do for those you love. Your loyalty and compassion are a treasure, a gift to be cherished. You appreciate Robert Frost’s poetry and aren’t afraid to traverse the road not taken. Passion is your second nature. It is an exquisite thing to behold, emanating from within you. There are no doubts in my mind about who you are. I love you.”
Reaching for his hands, her thumbs pressed gently to the inside of his wrists, against the scars that served as a reminder of how deeply he felt things. “Tell me again, Landon.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
She closed her eyes as if savoring the richness of his words. When she opened them, the light in his hazel irises shimmered with expectancy. Olivia whispered, “I can’t remember what my hopes and dreams were before coming to Patagonia, but you have quickly become all that I desire. I think I loved you from the moment I opened my eyes. Will you kiss me, Landon? I have wondered how your lips and body would feel against mine.”
The slow descent of his mouth toward hers gave his heart time to wonder at her expression of love. Perhaps when he told her who she really was, or she remembered herself, she would find it in her heart to forgive him and to embrace him.
