Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8

by Patricia Hagan

  “Keys!” Odar whispered hoarsely, pointing to a rusty ring hanging beneath the torch.

  “Here!” someone cried. They saw bony fingers clutching a barred window. “Dear God, here! Here!”

  “You must be silent!” Cord said as loudly as he dared. “Be patient, and we’ll get you all out.”

  Marilee began to run from one cell door to the other, whispering feverishly, “Drakar Mikhailonov! Which one of you is my father…”

  “Marilee…”

  She turned slowly, afraid that it was all a dream, that she would turn around and there would be no one there.

  But he was real.

  He staggered stiffly toward her, his arms held open. She ran to him and was folded against his chest, and they clung together for long, emotional moments, unashamedly crying tears of joy.

  Marilee felt a hand on her shoulder and reluctantly drew back from her father’s embrace to see Cord’s anxious face in the torchlight. “We’ve got to go now. There were only six other prisoners, which explains the lack of security, but we’re taking chances to hang around.”

  “Brandt!” Drakar grinned, his dark eyes flashing. “I should’ve known you’d be behind this. Bless you!”

  Marilee shivered with delight to think that now she had all the proof she ever needed that Cord Brandt was exactly who and what he had professed to be.

  And dear God, how she loved him!

  Drakar looked at Marilee once more, still unable to believe she was really there. “I don’t know how this came to be,” he said in wonder, “and I’m sure it’s a long story, but bless both of you, and—” He froze, as the final surprise hit him.

  His arms dropped from about Marilee, and with sudden renewed strength, he rushed to Irina and gathered her in his arms, his wasted body shuddering with sobs of joy.

  Beside her, Cord whispered, “I wanted so badly to tell you so many things, like how your father found happiness.”

  “I’m happy for him,” Marilee said with all honesty. As much as her parents had loved each other, she knew her mother would not have wanted her father to spend the rest of his life alone.

  Cord spun her about and kissed her, then declared, “And there’s no doubt about ours, either, Marilee. Now let’s get the hell out of here and see what the Whites have got planned for us, all right?”

  She met his glorious, loving smile with one of her own, and hand in hand, they hurried on their way.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Outside, the other freed prisoners scattered in the misty, crystal light. They would make contact with White soldiers later. For the time being, they wanted only to distance themselves from the prison before they were discovered missing.

  Marilee, her hand tucked in her father’s, with Irina on his other side, fell in behind Cord, Odar, Kievan, and Sthrom as they began their arduous journey. There was so much she wanted to tell Drakar, so many questions to be answered, but she knew there was no time for conversation right now. They had to keep trudging along, moving as fast as possible in the biting cold.

  Finally they reached the frozen Irtysh River, where ice boats would speed them along to sleighs waiting farther north.

  That night they found shelter in the barn of a White sympathizer, where vodka and hot, spiced tea waited, as well as gruel and smoked meats. Marilee was impressed that their route was so well planned, that so many preparations had been made so quickly.

  Drakar smiled. “That’s why we’ll ultimately overthrow the Bolsheviks, Marilee, because we’re better organized than they think. We have people like Irina who are dedicated, and Odar, Kievan, and Sthrom.

  “And Cord Brandt.” He nodded appreciatively to where Cord listened quietly.

  “But it’s over now for you,” she said confidently, pretending not to notice the way the others exchanged uneasy glances. She would not let herself consider the possibility that he would not be leaving Russia with her. “Daniberry will still be there after the war. Till it’s over, we’re going to find a place where we can just be together in peace…and love.”

  She looked at Irina, who would not meet her gaze, then at Cord, who also glanced away.

  Drakar sipped his vodka in silence.

  Marilee felt a stab of foreboding. Finally she could contain her fears no longer and cried, “What is this? Why are you all acting so strange? We’re leaving together, aren’t we? All of us? We’re getting out of this land of ice and snow and bloodshed, and we’re all going to make a new life together, aren’t we?”

  She grabbed her father’s arm. “You’ve done your share. We’ve been denied so much of each other, and now we can all be a family and—” Her voice cracked; she could not go on.

  Drakar was silent for a moment as she leaned her head against his shoulder and cried quietly. Then, without looking at Irina, who was watching anxiously, he hugged Marilee against him. “You’re right. I’ve missed out on so much with you. We’ll all make a new life…together.”

  Only then did he look at Irina for confirmation, but she glanced away, unable to speak.

  “Promise me!” Marilee cried desperately. “Promise me you’ll leave with me. Dear God, I don’t know where we’ll go, but just promise you’ll leave Russia with me, and that we’ll find peace together.”

  He lowered his head and closed his eyes. She was his daughter, the daughter he had never really known. She deserved this time, and so, perhaps, did he. “I promise,” he whispered tremulously.

  Cord looked at Irina as she got to her feet and slipped out of the barn and into the white night. Drakar did not see her leave. Cord did not go after her—it was not his place to do so. Irina was a complex person, and although there was no doubt that she loved Drakar with every beat of her heart, she had suffered terribly at the hands of the vicious Bolsheviks. She wanted revenge and justice, not only for herself, but for her people.

  Drakar realized later that she was gone. When he went to Cord, distraught, Cord could only say, “It was the way she wanted it. We all do what we have to do.”

  Marilee was asleep. Drakar looked at her and sighed. “She’s my daughter. I owe her a stable life. I guess I couldn’t expect Irina to understand that.”

  “Like I said,” Cord responded. “We all do what we have to do.”

  Drakar gave him a strange look, then asked bluntly, “Are you in love with her?”

  Cord nodded with a smile. “Oh, yes. I think I loved her before I even knew her.”

  Drakar shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t expect you to.” He was not about to try to explain that night in the castle cellar, back in Zurich. It seemed a lifetime ago.

  Drakar seemed pleased. “Then you’ll be leaving with us. I thought perhaps we’d go to Spain. The Coltranes have a large ranch there, and we can stay till the war is over. I only wish that something was resolved with Nicholas and his family. I feel like I’m deserting them, and—”

  “You’ve done all you can,” Cord quickly interjected. “Just concentrate on your own future, Mikhailonov. God knows, you’ve given enough of yourself to Russia and the cause.”

  Drakar looked at Marilee fondly, and his words were barely audible. “Have I, Brandt? Who can judge me?”

  He went and lay down in a pile of straw on the far side of the barn, wanting to be alone with his memories.…and his doubts.

  The next morning he was awakened by Marilee’s frantic shaking.

  He looked up at her groggily and saw the distraught look on her face. “It’s all right, honey. She’s gone, but I guess I never could’ve expected her to leave with us. Maybe one day she’ll change her mind and—”

  “It’s not only Irina,” she told him in a dead, dull voice.

  He held her at arm’s length, searching her face, unwilling to believe what he knew she was about to tell him.

  “Cord’s gone, too. It’s just you and me, Poppa.” They clung to each other for long, miserable moments; then Marilee spoke for them both as she quietly declared, “I guess I though
t when you loved someone as much as I love Cord Brandt, they just had to love you back. But I was a fool. He loved his cause more.”

  Drakar nodded, his spirit broken. He had not known such emptiness, such grief, since the day his beloved Dani had died.

  Odar traveled with them all the way to Petrograd, confiding that when Irina had slipped away to follow her destiny, she had entrusted him with the final orders for their delivery. But he waited until they actually arrived in the city before informing them that they were to go to the Kshessinskaya Palace.

  Drakar stared at him, wide-eyed and openmouthed.

  “Are you mad? That’s the headquarters of the Central and Petrograd committees of the Bolshevik Party! What is this? Some kind of trick?” He drew Marilee into a protective embrace. He wished he had a weapon, for now he was sure they had been betrayed.

  Odar was quick to assure him otherwise. “No. It was orders from our leaders that Irina passed along to me. You are being granted political immunity, and officials of the United States government are waiting for you there. Trust me, please.”

  Drakar sighed. “I guess I have no choice, Odar, but I swear…” He lifted his chin. “If you have betrayed us, you’d better pray they execute me quickly, or so help me, I’ll cut your heart out.”

  Odar grinned confidently. “Just go inside and find out for yourself, my friend. And Godspeed.”

  Then he disappeared into the crowds along Gorky Prospekt, to return to the Whites—and the cause.

  Drakar and Marilee looked across at the tiled façade of the elegant palace which formerly belonged to the ballerina Mathilde Kshessinskaya, mistress of Nicholas II.

  Marilee asked fearfully, “What do we do now?” She felt guilty because she no longer really cared. In time she knew she would feel differently, but for the moment, she could only grieve for her lost love.

  Somberly, Drakar took her hand and started walking. “We follow destiny, my daughter. We have no choice.”

  They no sooner had reached the front steps of the palace than they were surrounded by guards and ushered within. Marilee was terrified and clung to her father, sure that at any moment they were going to be shot and killed. Dear God, was this why Cord had abandoned her and run away in the night? Had he known this was all a trick? And had Irina known, as well? If so, then she hoped it would end quickly, for to think of the two people they had loved and trusted betraying them was worse than facing death.

  They were taken into what was once a ballroom but was now a waiting room for those seeking to be heard by the Central Committee. They were shoved roughly into a corner, their guards glowering at them contemptuously. Marilee bit back her tears, proud of the way her father arrogantly met their hateful looks.

  “Bastards,” he hissed. “Bolshevik bastards!”

  “Do not press your luck,” one of the guards threatened. “I may lose my patience and give you the knife in your belly you deserve!”

  Then, like a giant sunbeam swooping down upon them from heaven above, a great bronze door opened. She heard her name called lovingly, and Marilee looked up to see Colt and Kurt rushing toward her, with Travis close behind, limping from his war injury.

  Later she could not remember running to meet them, for it was as though some angelic hand carried her forward, until she was wrapped in their arms and everyone was crying with joy.

  Drakar was welcomed into the fold, and then they were taken into yet another room, where Colt endeavored to tell them that he had arranged for them to be taken out of the country with political asylum.

  “We’re all going back to Spain—together!” he shouted triumphantly.

  “I can’t believe it,” Marilee said over and over as they were hastily fed, then given a change of clothes. “I didn’t think I’d ever see any of you again.”

  Travis gave her a loving, lopsided grin. “Hey, did you really think you could get rid of us so easily? Once a Coltrane, always a Coltrane, Marilee. Don’t ever forget that.”

  “How can I?” She laughed through her tears. Then she turned to her uncle and cried vehemently, “How could I have ever thought I wasn’t one of you?”

  “That was our fault,” Colt told her gruffly, “but we’ve a lifetime to make up for that. For now, just hurry and let’s be on our way. The river is frozen, but we’ve got ice sleds waiting to get us to the train.

  “We don’t want to impose on our hosts any longer than necessary,” he added sardonically.

  When they were ready, they were taken by cold-eyed Bolshevik guards to where several ice sleds were lined up in procession. Marilee was relieved to see American soldiers waiting to go with them.

  She was about to be helped into one of the sleighs when suddenly Drakar called out to her in such a pained voice that she stepped back in alarm, afraid he’d been injured.

  He was staring down at her with haunted, desperate eyes, swinging his head from side to side. Never had she seen such misery etched on a face. In a voice so wretched that it was almost unrecognizable, he told her hoarsely, “Forgive me, my darling, but I can’t go with you.”

  She met his forlorn, anguished gaze and did not have to ask any questions. Nor would she argue with him. She knew. In that instant she knew that he had made a decision from which there was no turning back.

  “Godspeed,” he said chokingly with a small wave. “We’ll meet again one day, Marilee. Here…or where your mother waits…”

  And then he was gone, melting quickly into the crowd before the guards had time to realize he was gone. Within moments he would be snatched under the protective wing of the Whites and on his way back to Irina…and his destiny. For, as he’d said, he had no choice.

  Marilee felt Colt’s hand on her arm and knew it was time to go. He did not speak, and she was glad, for what was there to say? It was decreed by fate.

  They were about to leave the shore, to skim along the ice to where the trains ran. Marilee felt her tears freezing upon her cheeks but she did not try to hold them back. Yet she knew she did not weep for her father. He would find Irina and his happiness, and that was best for him. She could not begrudge his joy.

  She cried instead for herself, for she had known love only to have it snatched away. Cord, like her father and Irina, had loved the cause more. He was dedicated to defeating the Bolsheviks, and she supposed she could not fault him for it.

  But oh, dear Lord, how she loved him…and always would.

  She felt a strong arm about her, silently thanked Colt for his understanding comfort.

  Then she heard words that made her whirl around.

  Cord had slipped silently into the sleigh to take his place beside her. All the love within him was mirrored on his smiling face as he declared fervently, “You, my darling, are the cause I dedicate my life to. I love you so…”

  And she welcomed his embrace, and his love, and his kiss of eternal devotion.

  Sometimes, Marilee realized thankfully, there was a choice, after all.

  Epilogue

  They stood together on a windswept hill, overlooking the azure Mediterranean Sea.

  There were no orchestras or flower-bedecked carriages. There was no huge gathering of important guests.

  There were only the bride and groom, a padre to hear their vows, and a family to share their moment of love…and triumph.

  Marilee was radiantly lovely in a gown of white lace; Cord was strikingly handsome in his suit of beige linen.

  In the Spanish morning’s ethereal mist, memories were stirred, and the presence of loving ghosts were felt as they drifted down from heaven to witness the final triumph of love.

  There was the ghost of Travis Coltrane—who with his devoted wife, Kitty, became legend in their days of love and war.

  Present also was the tenacious spirit of Marilee Barbeau, to see her granddaughter wed, and the loving shadow of Dani Coltrane Mikhailonov, who made her mark in love and splendor…and would live forever in her daughter’s heart.

  Colt Coltrane stood proudly, reminded of his own initiati
on into the Coltrane birthright as he lived through his days of love and fury, then found love and dreams with his beloved Jade.

  Next to them stood their son, John Travis Coltrane the Second, and his lovely wife, Valerie, and their legacy to the saga—John Travis the Third.

  Nearby were Kit and Kurt, who found love and honor, with their son and daughter beside them.

  It had all begun nearly sixty years ago, in a small town in North Carolina at the dawn of the War Between the States, and had moved on so gloriously to that hilltop in Spain.

  The padre pronounced the couple man and wife, then closed the brief service with the age-old benediction requested by Marilee.

  “Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing, hope, and comfort from above. Let us each, thy peace possessing, triumph in redeeming love.”*

  And the Coltrane saga would forever live on in the hearts of all who were privileged to know them.

  *Benediction, Robert Hawker, 1753—1827

  About the Author

  Patricia Hagan might be the New York Times bestselling author of 38 novels and 2500 short stories, but she can also lay claim to being among the vanguard of women writers covering NASCAR stock-car racing. The first woman granted garage passes to major speedways, she has awards in TV commentary, newspaper and magazine articles, and for several years wrote and produced a twice-weekly racing program heard on 42 radio stations in the south.

  Patricia’s books have been translated into many languages, and she has made promotional trips to Europe, including England, France, Italy, Norway, Greece, Turkey, Croatia, Spain and Ireland.

  Hagan’s exciting eight-book Coltrane saga, which spans from the Civil War to the Russian Revolution, has appeared on every major bestseller list and is one of the most popular series published in France, never having been out-of-print in that country in nearly 30 years.