Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6

by Patricia Hagan

  She looked inside herself, knew without long meditation that she did care, and told him so, adding, “But I’m not sure it’s enough. I’m not sure I can ever love any man the way I loved Colt.”

  At once, he reached to cup her chin in his hand and force her to meet his searing gaze. “Listen to me,” he said thickly, fiercely. “I’m not asking you to love me the same way you loved Colt, goddammit, because I’ll never love you in quite the same way I loved Marnia. Notice I said ‘in quite the same way’…that has nothing to do with how much Marnia and Colt were other people who lived in another time. All I’m asking from you is that you try to love me in your own special way, the way I love you. Let’s make our own memories, Jade, not try to live in the old ones.”

  She trembled in his embrace. She did love him, in her own special way, but was it enough to commit to marriage? “Time,” she pleaded, her voice barely audible as a lump welled in her throat. “Just give me time to know my heart, Bryan. Please.”

  He nodded slowly, then got to his feet and began to dress. He left her to straighten her own clothes, saying he was going to check on the boat. By the time she was dressed, about to make her way down the rocks from the ledge, he was back, a grim expression on his face. “Hate to tell you this,” he said, reaching out to help her down, “but the storm washed the boat out to sea. I can barely see it on the horizon.”

  Jade felt no real fright, reasoning that when night came and they didn’t return, Pauly and Amelia would become alarmed and send out a search party. They were even in sight of the island, albeit distant.

  They went outside into that special cool air that seems to come only after a sudden, bitter storm. The smell of the ocean was sweet, and it looked calm, docile, in the lazy afternoon sunshine. All that was left of the thundering black clouds were skittering far, far away.

  Bryan reached for her hand and she took his, and they stood for long, pensive moments staring toward the edge of the Earth, where sea met sky, where home and boat were mere specks.

  “There’s not even a dry place to sit down,” Bryan said wearily, looking about helplessly.

  “We’ve got the cave,” Jade reminded him.

  “Okay. You go in there, and I’ll stay out here ready to wave if I see a boat. How’s that?”

  She hesitated. It hardly seemed fair, but before she could say that she was willing to stay outside and do her part, Bryan murmured that maybe they both needed some time just then to be alone. She agreed, but silently, and so turned and walked toward the cave without further conversation.

  Back inside, she lay down on the dry ledge, her arm under her head. She closed her eyes and attempted once more to sort out her feelings. But the excitement of the day had made her weary, and sleep came quickly…as did the dream.

  She was back on the ship, back in the storm, on the deck, clinging desperately to the railing above the swirling black waters. It was all happening again, and she could see Colt in the doorway of the cabin, calling to her, about to make his way to her, arms outstretched. Then he slipped, fell, and the crate careened toward him. She screamed as he was struck in the head, and there was a split second when she saw the blood, his eyes open wide in agony and horror. Then a wave washed up and over him as the crate crashed through the railing, taking her to the hungrily waiting sea below. But there the reality became the dream, for it was as though she could look back to the ship and see Colt, only he was not lying in a pool of blood, dead. He was calling to her, reaching out to her from a deep black void. She struggled to get to him, but each time their outstretched fingertips were about to meet, an invisible force would pull them apart with a sickening upward lurch. Around and around, a wild wind would take each of them, bringing them tantalizingly close, only to rip them far apart before they could touch.

  She woke herself screaming, sat upright as Bryan swung up on the ledge. She burrowed her face in her hands and let the tears come in great convulsing sobs. Dear God, it had been so real…so terribly, heartbreakingly real. She had seen his dear face, seen the strong, abiding love in the warm gray eyes she adored…could feel the softness of his breath upon her flesh just before invisible demons tore them apart. It had been the first time she had dreamed he was alive, and the experience left her deeply shaken.

  She went into Bryan’s arms willingly, but at that moment of desperation recognized that she would have allowed the embrace of anyone offering solace.

  “My God, Jade, what’s wrong?” He gave her a gentle shake, held her away from him. He’d never seen her quite this upset. “Tell me, what happened?”

  She shook her head, pulled away from his hold. “A nightmare. That’s all. A nightmare. I’ll be all right. I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t think about it. You’re awake, with me. It’s over.” He motioned for her to allow him to help her down from the ledge. “Come on. We’re in luck. Pauly got concerned when the storm came, so he was down on the pier looking for us, and he saw the sailboat going out to sea, figured what had happened, even figured where we’d gone, because he remembered Marnia liked to come here.”

  She pushed down the dredges of the bad dream, gratefully breathed, “He found us!”

  “He’s down at the beach. He signaled for help, borrowed a boat. Let’s go.”

  He put his arm around her, drew her close as they walked out of the cave. “Whatever it was that upset you so, it was just a dream, princess. Remember that. What we shared earlier was real…and wonderful. Dwell on that, and the happy thoughts will overshadow the bad ones.” He kissed her gently.

  She accepted his lips, then turned her head away. What he said might make sense, she rationalized, except for one thing—dreaming that Colt was actually alive was not a bad thought.

  Chapter Fifteen

  There was a knoll on Bryan Stevens’ private island that overlooked the ocean and was the highest point of the terrain. The bank sloping back and inland was covered with such a profusion of wildflowers that there was seldom a time of year when colorful blossoms were not abundant. On the side facing the ocean, jutting chunks of coral could be seen glowing like trapped sunshine in the midst of the foamy turquoise water that swirled in rhythm with the sea.

  Jade found the spot to be the most beautiful on the island, even more lovely than the isolated cove which Bryan favored. It was to this place she had begun to make a pilgrimage twice each day. At sunrise, with its glorious creations of pink and rose and salmon and silver, she could look toward Europe and her memories there, both fond and sad. At sunset, when the western sky was a gradual explosion of brilliant, gorgeous hues of crimson, saffron, magenta, burnt orange, she would gaze toward America, where she’d focused so many hopes and dreams.

  In between her visits, she spent her time attempting to adjust to the place that had become her home…and the endless struggle to sort out the complexity of her life.

  It had been nearly two weeks since the memorable picnic, and the dreams of Colt being alive had come to her every single night. They were so vivid, so real. She had even been able to touch him, hold him, kiss him. Then, when she awakened, she cried because she was awake and wished to sleep forever if it meant being with him. Oddly, that feeling did not last long once she was alert, fully awake. She would be aware of her environment, enjoy her day with Bryan; until night came and the dream returned, she was content.

  Her times with Bryan after their intimate encounter had not been strained. She had not nurtured guilt or regrets and had enjoyed the passion they shared. When he had come to her room the next night, she had gone into his arms willingly, eagerly, and they had lam together till nearly dawn. Then he had returned to his own quarters, so that when Pauly came to bring him his early morning coffee, he would not find his bed empty. They could not risk having the servants gossiping, for there was enough speculation on the mainland as it was about their relationship. If it were known they were sharing a bed, they would be ruined socially.

  Bryan was being patient, understanding, not pressing her to consent to accept his
proposal, but how long would he wait? Each time he held her in his arms, he swore that all he wanted in life was to spend it with her, as her husband. “I love you,” he told her over and over, “and I won’t be happy till you belong to me completely.”

  She continued to ask herself if what she felt for him was true love, deep and abiding. On one hand, she felt strongly enough about him to want to be beside him and nurture that emotion and find out if it was enough on which to base a marriage. On the other hand, she was forced to acknowledge there was a strange seed growing within—a seed of doubt that was frightening to even contemplate, growing larger with each dream of Colt. It was as though he were calling out to her from another place, but not from the netherworld.

  She knew, also, that if she did not marry Bryan, there was no way she could remain on the island and impose on his hospitality. The emotional limbo could not continue.

  If, however, she married him, she had no doubts that he’d be good to her, and she would certainly try her best to make him a good wife. The fact that she could never love him in quite the same way she loved Colt was a moot point. They’d find their own comfortable plateau of love and mutual respect. No doubt there’d eventually be children, too, and that thought was not unappealing. Yet always, when she leaned toward giving in and consenting, the burning question returned to torment: What if Colt were alive? Dear God, it wasn’t fair to her or to Bryan for her to enter into a union with him when there was even the slightest possibility that such a miracle might be true.

  The indecision and mental torture continued, and in its midst Bryan began to act differently. He was still as pleasant to be around as always, but he stopped coming to her bed at night. He gave no reason; Jade’s pride did not ask for one. His manner during the day also became a bit formal, and more and more, she would rise to learn from Amelia or Pauly that he’d gone to the mainland for the day…as though avoiding her. It was also along about then, she noted, that his crew returned with his yacht.

  This sudden, mysterious behavior caused Jade to realize the time had come for her to make a decision about the future, but that awareness did not make it any easier for her to do!

  Then came the nightmare that left her with only one choice to make.

  She dreamed that Colt was alive, but this time there was something terribly wrong with him. He was calling to her in anguished desperation, stumbling through a great gray fog that made it difficult for her to see him at times due to the changing density of her vision. Sometimes she could see his face clearly, and what she saw there wrenched her heart with terror—he had no eyes! He groped for her, and she screamed out to him that she was there, she, would help him, be his eyes…but he could not hear her, continued to stumble about pitifully in the smoky mist rising about him. She fought to get to him, but each time she was within distance to reach out and touch him, an invisible hand scooped him up and away, and when that happened, his cries to her became near hysterical, and he sobbed and shuddered in his helplessness. When at last he was taken away, so far as to no longer be seen, his final scream wrenched her to the very core of her being, “If I’m not dead…then please, God, kill me…”

  She screamed and screamed again, and even when Bryan heard and ran to gather her in his arms, she kept on screaming. He sharply patted her face and shook her and cried out to her to wake up, it was only another nightmare.

  Finally, she was torn from the wretched depths of her hellish hallucination and stared up at him in wild-eyed horror. “I’ve got to know if he’s dead!”

  Bryan closed his eyes and prayed he himself was only dreaming. Then he looked down into her face, so etched with despair, and raggedly whispered, “Jade, Colt is dead. You’re being haunted by a ghost. You’re in love with a ghost. Please, please, let it go. Marry me, and put the past behind you. Stop clinging to it, or it’ll destroy you.”

  He lovingly pressed his cheek against hers. “You don’t know how much I love you. I thought I couldn’t love any woman more than I loved Marnia, but that was nothing like this. I’ve never felt this way before. God forgive me, but the way I love you makes me actually glad Marnia did die, so fate could bring you and me together—”

  “No!” She quickly placed her fingertips against his lips for silence. “Never say anything like that again, Bryan. It’s not right. It…it’s an awful thing to say, and you know you don’t mean it.”

  “But I love you so…” He tried to kiss her, but she turned away. He straightened to sharply, almost angrily decry, “I can’t believe you don’t feel anything for me after what we’ve shared.”

  “Bryan, you know I care for you,” she began, “but—”

  “I’ve left you alone the past few nights in hopes you’d miss me,” he brusquely informed her. “I wanted you to be so miserable without me you’d realize we’ve got to be together for always, and you’d consent to marry me.

  “Obviously,” he added testily, “you didn’t mind.”

  With lower lip quivering, heart trembling, she shook her head slowly from side to side. “You just don’t understand, Bryan. I do care for you. I think I love you, but I can’t marry you until I know for certain that Colt is dead.”

  He ground his teeth together in resolution, the nerve in his jaw tensing. Then he turned his face toward the first peach and golden light of dawn streaming through the open French doors. Finally he forced himself to ask the question he dreaded having answered. “All right, Jade. Tell me. What does all this mean?”

  “I don’t quite know,” she said in a small voice, though all the while a new revelation was building within.

  “Are you saying you’re going to leave me? Leave the island? Return to Russia?”

  Solemnly, she shook her head, then allowed that new revelation to speak. “I’m going on to New York, to find out whether Colt is alive.”

  At that, he stared at her incredulously. “You’re joking.”

  Quietly, with determination, she informed him that she most certainly was not joking. “And if you’d help me make arrangements to book passage to New York, I’d be grateful.” Suddenly she sat up and reached out to clutch his shoulders as she implored him with her eyes to please understand. “Oh, Bryan, don’t you see that this is something I’ve got to do if I’m ever going to have any peace?

  “The dreams I’m having, the nightmares,” she rushed on to explain, “they’re different. I’ve been dreaming Colt is alive, and just now I dreamed that he’s in some kind of trouble and he was calling out to me from somewhere. I’ll never be able to put it out of my mind until I know for sure that he did die that night!”

  “Jade, please don’t—”

  “You said yourself everyone would presume I was lost at sea, that I’m dead—but I’m not! I’m here, alive. And the same thing might be true of Colt. I didn’t actually see him die. Don’t you see? Colt might be alive just as I’m alive!” She searched his face for some sign that he understood.

  Bryan sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “All right, tell me this. How do you propose to find out whether he’s alive? Wouldn’t it be easier to just write to his family?”

  Quickly she vetoed that idea. “No. I wouldn’t dare upset his father. If he’s been officially informed that Colt and I are dead, to hear I’m alive, and asking whether Colt might be, could be a fatal blow to him. I can’t risk that, and I won’t. I’m going to New York. I know that Colt was supposed to go to work for some important people named Vanderbilt. They shouldn’t be too hard to find. I also remember the name of the bank where he deposited his money, and they’d know if his account had been claimed.”

  “Jade, here we have peace, happiness, everything we want. But if we go back to that other world out there, we’re liable to lose it all. We’ll be tempting fate to destroy what we’ve found together.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder, praying he could somehow understand what she was feeling. “If I don’t do this, then I’ll never have peace, and this won’t be a paradise to me.”

  He sat rigidly on t
he edge of the bed, made no move to put his arms about her. “What if I refuse to help you?”

  She raised her head to stare at him incredulously. “Surely you wouldn’t do that.”

  “I might,” he said coolly. “I love you. I make no apologies for that, and I’ll stop at nothing to make you love me. I’d be a fool to help you leave me.”

  Feeling a chill run up and down her spine, she cried, “That would be the same thing as making me your prisoner.”

  “A prisoner of love.” His taunting smile was frightening.

  “Eventually I would hate you for it.” She pushed him away from her, shakily got to her feet, and reached for her robe. Suddenly she despised wearing a dead woman’s clothes, and as the thought assailed her, she realized that the resentment toward him had already begun. She whirled to face him. “I don’t want your help. Just let me go to the mainland, and I’ll take care of myself.”

  His gaze upon her was one of pity. “You have no money.”

  She lifted her chin in defiance. “I have plenty of money in New York.”

  “What if the Romanovs have claimed it by now?”

  “That will take time. It hasn’t been quite three months. I think I can get there before that happens.”

  “But you can’t be sure.”

  “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Finally Bryan conceded. “Very well. I’ll let you go. But first you have to come with me. There’s something I want to show you. If, after seeing it, you still want to leave me and the love and everything else I have to offer, then I guess I’ll just be fool enough to help you.”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “What is it?”

  He smiled, a kind smile that provoked no fear, as he held out a hand to her. “Come along, please.”