Tomorrow's Promise

by Radclyffe

  TOMORROW'S PROMISE

  By

  RADCLYFFE

  Ebook by

  PDAFiction.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  "HELLO? ANYBODY HERE?" Adrienne Pierce called into the open bay of the small roadside gas station.

  “Ayah,” a voice replied from somewhere inside the repair area. A thin, friendly looking man in his late fifties, dressed in stained coveralls, came out of the building wiping his hands casually on a grease-spattered rag. He smiled at Adrienne expectantly. "Can I help you?"

  “I hope so,” Adrienne replied. “I’m looking for the turnoff to Whitley Point. My directions said it should be near here, but I can’t seem to find it.”

  “Not from around here, are you?” he inquired conversationally. His broad New England accent contrasted sharply with her clipped, precise cadence. He busied himself cleaning the road grit from her windshield while he studied her from the corner of his eye. Tall, trim, very elegant. Golden-blonde hair just beyond short, stylishly layered and carelessly pushed back from her face. Casual chinos and cotton shirt that fit her neatly.

  Adrienne smiled, a smile tinged with sadness. “I guess that’s pretty obvious. I’m from the West Coast.”

  “You’re pretty far from home, I’ll say,” he said, reaching into his pockets for a cigarette. “Got friends on the Point?” he inquired, leaning against the bumper, appearing for all the world as if he were settling in for a long chat.

  You have no idea how far from home I am. So far I hardly recognize my life anymore.

  Adrienne looked at him, struggling between annoyance and amusement. Obviously he wasn’t in any hurry, and she decided she might as well get into the spirit of his slow easy manner. After all, she had come all this way to relax and leave the turmoil of the last few months behind.

  She tried to put a conversational tone into her voice. “I don’t know a soul at Whitley Point. I’m leasing a house there for the next six months, and I’d really like to find it before dark.”

  He nodded, gave a last swipe at the spotted windshield, and stubbed his half-smoked cigarette out with the toe of his reinforced boot. “I’m trying to quit, so I only smoke them half way down,” he offered as if he needed to explain. “It’s a real pretty place, Whitley Point. I used to work out there when I was a boy. That was back when Charles Whitley, Sr. was still alive, before the island was developed.”

  “I thought the island was privately owned by the Whitleys," Adrienne said, interested in spite of her urgency to get back on the road.

  “Still is,” he continued. “The whole north half of the island is the Whitley family estate, but there are some private homes too, on the southern end."

  Adrienne had heard some of this before, but she was still impressed. The idea of a family dynasty as powerful as the Whitley empire intrigued her. It was far different than her own experience growing up in a working class family. It was partly that fascination which had prompted her to inquire about the house for rent when she had come across it by chance in a magazine. She had been searching for some graceful way to escape from the overly solicitous attentions of her family, and this had seemed the perfect opportunity. She was grateful to her parents for offering her a refuge of sorts when she needed one, but recently she found their thinly veiled pity too oppressive to bear. They, in turn, had seemed almost relieved when she left.

  “I thought the younger Whitley was dead, too,” Adrienne queried, forcing her thoughts back to the present.

  “He is,” her companion informed her. “Died almost ten years ago in a freak storm out at sea—they found his body way down the coast days later. Never could understand how he let himself get caught so far out to sea in gale weather. Any native knows how fast those storms blow in—and Whitley was a mighty fine sailor. Maybe it was fate. Anyhow, now his widow manages things on the island, although I hear she leaves most of the business matters to the corporation.” He squinted up at the quickly setting sun and added, “Well, I guess you’ll want to be getting on.”

  Adrienne suppressed a smile and nodded solemnly. “Perhaps I should be.”

  She finally learned that she would have found the sign for Whitley Point had she driven two miles further down the road. Her new acquaintance informed her that she should, in fact, reach the southern end of Whitley Point in less than half an hour. Adrienne said good-bye with some reluctance. She couldn’t remember the last time she had held a conversation with anyone that hadn’t been filled with embarrassed pauses or awkward silences. It was good to be treated like an ordinary person again. She waved as she pulled out of the parking lot, suddenly eager to reach a safe haven.

  Safe haven. Is there really such a place for me?

  She had come three thousand miles in search of one.

  Adrienne crossed the causeway onto the island and followed the narrow coast road that wound north on the ocean side. She marveled at how untouched by the modern world the surrounding shoreland appeared. Only her headlights broke the darkness as she carefully followed the twisting highway. Occasionally she caught glimpses of lights through the trees, but she couldn’t make out any structures from the road. The sea breeze gusted in through her open windows, bringing with it a sudden pang of nostalgia. How she missed the ocean! Despite her melancholy mood, being near the water soothed her, and even after many hours on the road, she felt strangely rested. Her mind was drifting, lulled by the sounds of the sea, and she almost passed the small painted sign that announced the turnoff to Eagle Lane. She braked quickly and negotiated the turn faster than she had intended, feeling the chassis shake under her. Her heart raced as she pulled the big car out of a near spin.

  I’d better stay awake if I’m going to get there in one piece. After all this, is it would be rotten luck to die in a car crash.

  She drove with all her attention on the road until she found the house, looming up in the darkness, all angles and edges. Adrienne sat in her car for a few moments, staring. It was huge! She could make out a wide porch and what looked like a top floor deck winding around the side toward the rear. The ground level was comprised of a garage and a semi-enclosed storage area. The living space actually started on the second floor - a precaution against tidal floods, she imagined.

  She finally gathered her suitcases, maneuvered them up the wide front steps, and set out to explore her new home. The spacious bedroom, she discovered to her delight, was in the rear and adjoined the deck. She immediately opened the sliding doors to admit a breeze. She could just make out the shore a hundred yards below her. It was a beautiful setting, and for a fleeting instant she wished she had someone to share it with. She quickly banished that thought, as she had done so many times in the last year. That too, was part of her past.

  Suddenly weary, she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed, fully clothed. Within seconds, she was asleep, and mercifully – she did not dream.

  * * *

  Five miles up the road, Tanner slammed the door of her seaside bungalow and sprinted toward her Jaguar. She gunned the engine and roared from the drive amidst a shower of gravel. She tore down the coast road, her headlights slashing through the night. If she had left ten minutes earlier, she would have passed Adrienne’s car on the road. As it was, she saw no one as she hurtled toward her destination. Despite the chill night air, she had the top down on the sleek convertible and the radio turned up, all six speakers blasting. She drummed her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, maneuvering the twisting turns from memory. When she pulled into a hidden driveway near the south end of the island, careening to a stop behind a long line of sports coupes and roadsters, the party was already in full swing. All of the windows were open on the second floor of the large house, loud music pulsating into the night. Tanner sauntered through t
he crowd of people gathered on the wide front stairs and made her way into the house. She nodded as friends called a greeting and moved toward the bar set into an alcove on one side of the spacious living area.

  “Tanner!” a young man shouted, trying to be heard over the pounding music and din of excited voices. “Glad you could make it! What are you drinking?”

  “Scotch,” she replied. She accepted her drink with a smile and turned to survey the room. Most of the island's young were present, all of them eager to initiate the summer season with abandon. Many of the faces she recognized. For the most part, they were the sons and daughters of the island’s most wealthy families, home for the summer from expensive universities or simply idling away time they had no better use for. Tanner was no different. She had just returned from a six-month tour of Europe that she had found repetitive and boring.

  "So, what are your plans?" the handsome blond asked her.

  She shrugged, sipped her drink, not really tasting it. She simply waited for the burning to dissolve into a few hours of numbness. She had no plans. She gave little thought to anything beyond the moment. At least, she tried not to. Tomorrow was a lie, a dream that disappeared with the sunrise. And when she couldn't ignore the oppressive pointlessness of her days, she sought satisfaction in the superficial social life of the island. Unfortunately, keeping apathy at bay was a losing proposition.

  "No plans."

  "Still waiting for Princess Charming?" Todd Barrow prodded good-naturedly. He had known Tanner since they were children. They had even dated semi-seriously during high school. Both their families had assumed that they would someday marry. It seemed like a natural match. They had remained friends even after Tanner had told him she wasn’t interested in anything other than friendship, and why. Todd regarded her now with a mixture of bewilder­ment and fondness.

  She laughed bitterly. "Afraid not. I've outgrown fairy tales." About ten years ago.

  “Really? I thought the young and the innocent were your favorite types,” he responded flippantly.

  “Innocence is the last thing I want,” she continued in a strangely hollow voice. Let them find out from someone else that dreams don't come true.

  “Are you getting cynical in your old age?” he inquired, his tone still light but his eyes serious. It was rare for Tanner to admit she had doubts or reservations about anything. Despite their long friendship, they hadn't talked intimately in years. Tanner had always been an intensely private person, and perhaps the reason they had remained friends for so long was that he never pried. If she wanted people to believe that she was no more than the rich playgirl she appeared, Todd saw no reason to challenge that image. But he remembered the nights lying beside her out on the beach, sharing their hopes, and their fears. Once upon a time, she had dreamed.

  Tanner stared into the night. “I don’t know what you’d call it. I just don’t find the chase quite as much fun anymore.”

  “Too easy?” He knew from his own experience that it was often his money and status that attracted others, not himself personally.

  “Not that so much,” she continued with unaccustomed reflection. “I just don't enjoy winning any more.” She laughed at herself suddenly, shaking her thick, unruly dark hair out of her eyes. “Come on—let’s go find some other kind of action.” She didn’t feel like being serious tonight, and she certainly didn’t feel like thinking about the women that she had left in tears, or the broken hearts she had never wanted in the first place.

  “I know just what you need,” Todd said with a grin, slipping his arm around her waist. “Come on!”

  They joined a group of women and men in a room dense with smoke. Some people passed a joint, while others sat around a low table where lines of white crystals were carefully arranged. Conversation flowed as everyone sampled the various substances available. Tanner sat down with several friends and returned their greetings as she helped herself. She didn’t know who had provided the drugs and it didn’t matter. They were as much a part of the group’s party offering as alcohol. Tanner stayed a while and then followed the flow of people outside onto the expansive deck. She picked up another scotch on the way and settled comfortably into a lounge chair. She felt re-energized and couldn’t recall why she had been so bothered earlier. Nothing ever really changed.

  The starlit sky illuminated the ocean and pristine shoreline, moonlight glinting off the cresting waves. The surf thundered distantly, a steady reassuring backdrop to the rise and fall of voices around her. Even though she had seen it thousands of times, it stirred her still, and for one brief moment, she longed to escape onto the sea.

  A young redhead she had never seen before leaned over her and offered a joint. Tanner accepted automatically, then passed it back.

  “Great party, isn’t it?” the girl said to her as she exhaled the smoke in a long thin stream.

  “Sure,” Tanner replied, her stark features flickering with dark amusement. “First time out here?” The shapely youth looked to be eighteen – maybe.

  “How did you know?” the redhead asked in surprise. She rested her hand casually on Tanner's bare forearm, stroking very lightly.

  Tanner eyed her trim figure and pretty features appreciatively and grinned. “Because I know everyone on this island, and I’ve never seen you before. I’m sure I’d remember if I had.”

  “Well, I know who you are,” her companion responded coyly. “I saw you at the Davis’ beach party last year. Except then you weren’t alone.”

  “Really?” Tanner replied, playing the game that was second nature to her. “I am tonight. What’s your name?”

  “Jeanette.”

  Tanner stared at her for a moment, noting the eager look in her eyes. How easy it would be – and how pointless. She shook her head, not wanting to pursue that thought. But the conquest didn't interest her either, even with such an attractive partner. And that was new.

  “You should be careful, Jeanette—sometimes you get more than you bargained for at these parties,” she said as she gently disengaged the fingers from her arm.

  “Look me up later—if you get lonely,” Jeanette called as she slipped into the crowd, already looking for the next interesting face.

  Tanner closed her eyes, and imagined the sway of the deck under her feet, and the sound of the wind whipping the sails. The water surrounded her on all sides. So beautiful, so peaceful—so deadly.

  “Find what you were looking for in Europe?” a low sultry voice very near her ear inquired, stirring her from her reverie.

  Tanner looked up, her eyes still cloudy with memory, her speech languid and rich. “What makes you think I was looking for anything at all?”

  The woman laughed, settling herself on the chaise next to Tanner. She placed her hand softly on Tanner’s leg. “Because you’ve been looking for something for years. That’s why you never stay in one place for long. And why you never stay with one person either.”

  “You make me sound very mysterious,” Tanner said, draining her scotch and tracing a finger along the older woman's palm.

  “Just hard to please.”

  Tanner regarded her playfully. She was so close her breath warmed the skin on Tanner's neck. Tanner felt her body's automatic response. “I never noticed you had much trouble in that department.”

  “I didn’t think you remembered.”

  “I haven't forgotten, but my memory could use a little refreshing,” Tanner continued, shifting so that her companion's hand rested on her inner thigh.

  The woman searched for a sign of welcome in Tanner's dark eyes, but found them as unreadable as the ocean's depths. She stood, tugging on Tanner’s hand. “Let’s go for a ride. Maybe I can improve your recollections.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  WHITLEY POINT LOOKED different to Adrienne by daylight. She awakened to early morning sunlight streaming through the open windows onto her bed. She showered, luxuriating in the cool stream of water that seemed to wash away more than the after-effects of a twelve-hour drive. She began
to relax for the first time in weeks. The ocean beckoned to her, and she looked forward to a walk on the beach. The May morning was cool, and she pulled a sweater on over a tee shirt and jeans. She frowned at the loose fit of her clothes. She had lost weight, and at five-eight she had never had much to spare even when at her healthiest. That's behind you, now she reminded herself, wishing she could believe it.

  She followed a well-worn path down toward the water, winding between rippling dunes that separated the beach from the inner island. As she walked, she noticed houses secluded behind clusters of trees that hadn’t been apparent the night before. Even by daylight, they blended unobtrusively with the landscape, and she noted appreciatively how the construction and clean simple design of the buildings preserved the natural beauty of the environment. It was obvious that someone had gone to considerable effort to protect the wild nature of the island.

  The sound of the surf led her north, and when she rounded the last dune, she halted abruptly. Stretched before her was one of the most beautiful coastlines she had ever seen. In either direction, the beach undulated between the ocean and the rising sands for as far as she could see. On the seaward side of the island, the waves came in at full strength, cresting and breaking off shore. She stood still for some time, listening to the rhythm of the sea. Finally, she began to walk toward the far end of the island, following the irregular shoreline. The tide was on its way out. Sand crabs scuttled along the wet beach, disappearing into holes in the sand as she drew near. She used to make a game of trying to sneak up on them, but she had never gotten close. They were private creatures.

  Now she didn’t impinge on their desire for solitude. She understood it. Lately she had begun to feel somewhat like the shy creatures herself. She avoided people as much as possible, and when she could not, she remained politely aloof. She had withdrawn into herself as instinctively as the little animals did into their sanctuaries in the sand. She was barely aware of her behavior, it had occurred so gradually over the past year. It had become increasingly difficult for her to maintain the kinds of relationships she had once enjoyed. She could sense the change in people's attitudes towards her, and rather than struggle with their discomfort and her own, she had simply adjusted to it.