The Sea Hawk

by Brenda Adcock

  Julia stood and stared at the picture. A moment later she walked slowly around the desk and drew closer to the portrait hanging in front of her. She knew her mouth must have been hanging open in disbelief, but she couldn't drag her eyes away from the stunning picture. Her hand went to her mouth, her eyes burning as they fought back unwanted tears. She stared at the uncanny likeness of herself hanging before her. Her hair was short and reddish-blonde. She wore a floor-length maroon velvet gown with crème inserts down the full-length sleeves. A six-inch strip of intricate black, gold and cream embroidery ran around the bottom of the gown near the hem. A matching crème shawl was draped over her arms and hung loosely down her back. Her hand rested lightly on what appeared to be the banister of a staircase while a coquettish smile played along her lips.

  "She is beautiful, isn't she?" an accented voice asked from just inside the door to the room. Flipping on the light switch, the woman looked at Julia.

  Turning toward her hostess she demanded, "Is this some kind of sick joke? Where did you get this portrait?"

  "I can assure you it is no joke," the woman answered solemnly. She walked closer to the picture and gazed up at it. "This portrait hung in the main room of this house for more years than anyone can remember. I have looked at this woman's face since I was a small child." Her voice dropped to a low, husky semi-whisper as she continued to look at the portrait. "She is so incredibly beautiful. I fell in love with her image and dreamed of meeting her one day." Dropping her eyes to Julia's, she added, "Now at last I have."

  "That's not me!" Julia insisted. It is me! But there is no way anyone could know that!

  "Do you...do you know who she is?"

  "No one knows with any certainty. The portrait was commissioned by a distant relative of mine and is based on her sketches and memory. We believe she hired a local artist to create it."

  "What sketches?"

  The woman smiled. "I seem to be getting ahead of myself. If you would be so gracious as to follow me to my office we could continue this discussion, Mademoiselle Blanchard," she said in an all too familiar accented voice.

  "Please...please don't call me that," Julia said.

  "My apologies."

  "Don't say that either," Julia said more forcefully than she intended.

  Clearing her throat, the woman looked down, but continued to smile. Finally she stepped back to the door and opened it. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Simone Dhuperior, the owner of Montserrat Farms."

  Julia turned reluctantly away from the portrait and followed Simone into the hallway, no longer intent on fleeing. She felt Simone's hand against the small of her back and let her hostess guide her back into the main room.

  Catching the attention of the boy she had been with earlier, she motioned for him to join her. He smiled as he crossed the room and stood next to Simone. She looked at him affectionately and said, "Dr. Blanchard, this is my stepson, Robert." The French pronunciation. How appropriate, Julia thought. As they shook hands, Simone said, "Robert, would you please go to my room and bring my great aunt's journal to my office?"

  "Of course, Simone. If you will excuse me, Dr. Blanchard," Robert bowed as he turned to leave.

  "He's a very handsome young man," Julia commented.

  "Thank you. He is my partner's son. She passed away a few years ago and left me as his guardian. He has been a handful from time to time," Simone chuckled.

  She took Julia by the elbow and led her down a hallway toward another room. Opening the door for her, Simone stepped inside behind her and closed the door. Looking intently at Julia, she asked, "Do you believe in reincarnation, Dr. Blanchard?"

  "No."

  "Nor do I, but I am certain you are the woman in that portrait who has been haunting my dreams for as long as I can remember." Turning away from Julia and leaning against the edge of her desk, Simone shook her head and said, "I will tell you what I know, but you must agree to hear me out."

  Julia glanced around the handsomely decorated office. The walls were lined with trophies and framed awards, all speaking of the obvious successes of Montserrat Farms over the years. Behind the polished walnut desk, Julia saw a glass case holding a single pewter statue. She could barely breathe as she looked at the small statue of the horse, its front legs pawing at the air as it stood on its hind legs.

  "Where did you get that statue?" Julia asked in a whisper.

  "It has been in my family for generations. If you will have a seat, Dr. Blanchard, I will explain in a moment."

  As Simone Dhuperior paused and looked at her, Julia nodded. She leaned back into a maroon velvet-covered wingback chair; Simone sat behind her desk. "The story is this, Dr. Blanchard. Montserrat Farms was established around 1816 by a distant relative, a great-great-great aunt named Simone Moreau. It was rumored she may have been a pirate at one time. Probably nothing more than the ramblings of an old woman nearing the end of her life and then passed down as if a legend. However she arrived here, she founded this farm to breed and train Arabian horses. She never married and, in fact, is buried in the family cemetery on this farm. She is the distant relative who commissioned the portrait of you." Simone held up a hand as Julia opened her mouth to protest. "Or a woman who looks remarkably like you."

  Clearing, her throat and staring intently at Julia, Simone continued in a softer voice. "I do not know very much about the woman, but she left behind a journal and that small statue. Over the years, some parts of her journal have been lost or damaged. They lend some credence to the idea she was a pirate. All I know for certain from the journal is that she loved but one person more deeply than anything I could ever imagine. Another woman, whose name was Julia. She never wrote her lover's last name in the journal. The last portion of the journal is a heartbreaking account of losing her lover at sea. Her grief is overwhelming. I would have thought nothing more of what was written in the journal, but your disappearance and survival at sea was covered in depth by the local newspapers. A picture of you accompanied the stories. Quite by accident I also read the articles about the shipwreck you were excavating. When I saw your picture I knew I had to meet and speak with you. You excavated the shipwreck, your name is Julia, the woman in the portrait could be you now. I thought I must surely be imagining it all, but the idea that these things are coincidences or random chance does not sit well with me."

  The two women sat in silence for the next several minutes, looking at one another until a knock sounded at the office door. The door cracked open and Robert pushed it open and walked to Simone's desk. "Thank you, Robert," Simone said as she took a small package wrapped in brown, waxed wrapping paper and tied with twine.

  "May I see the journal?" Julia asked quietly as Simone carefully unwrapped it.

  "Of course," Simone said, rising and carrying it to Julia, who took it gently and ran her fingertips over the worn black cover. Simone waited as Julia went through the pages, scanning each one and periodically smiling as she read.

  Tears filled Julia's eyes when she saw the numerous sketches within the pages. When had Simone drawn them? she wondered. Perhaps that's what she was doing when I caught her looking at me. Julia smiled as she finished the last page and carefully closed the journal, holding it against her chest. Finally looking into Simone's questioning eyes, she spoke softly. "You could be her twin. You look and sound exactly as she did, except with slightly less accent. You have the same mannerisms, same build and height. You're identical to her in virtually every way.

  "When I first met her she had an octoroon lover named Esperanza Batista, whose son looked remarkably like Robert. Esperanza was killed in New Orleans in late December of 1814, but I don't know what happened to her son, Joaquin." Pausing to take a shaky breath, Julia stroked the cover of the journal before she went on. "She wrote in this journal every night before going to bed, recording everything to pass the time. Her ship was named Le Faucon de Mer and she was not a pirate." She stopped as her voice cracked. Regaining control, she lifted her chin defiantly and said, "She was a privateer a
nd it would be an insult to call her anything else. She was the gentlest, most honorable woman I've ever known."

  "And you loved her?" Simone asked, her voice soft.

  "More than my own life," Julia answered as a tear escaped and traveled down her cheek. "I was with her in New Orleans in the winter of 1814. I gave her that statue as a Christmas present moments before we were parted. I was later told she was killed in the battle against the British, but refused to leave the city until I saw her body. Of course, as we now know, she was not killed. We left New Orleans a week later sailing back to her home on Martinique."

  "And you were lost during that final voyage?"

  "During a storm I was swept overboard. When I awakened I was here once again. I thought it was only a hallucination by a dying woman, even though it seemed so real. Sometimes now in my sleep I still see her and feel her touch."

  "And the ship you excavated is Le Faucon de Mer?"

  "It is, but I've found no proof she existed that wouldn't make me look like a lunatic within the scientific community. I had no idea she brought her ship here. We were planning to live together on Martinique. She knew I was from the Savannah area and I suppose it's possible she came here for some reason I can't imagine."

  "Perhaps to be closer to you by living where you lived," Simone offered.

  "I can only suggest that she sailed to Martinique, transported her horses here and then scuttled her ship before coming ashore, using the old lighthouse on Tybee Island to guide her." Julia leaned her head back on the chair and closed her eyes, letting memories flood through her mind. "Maybe I am crazy, but she was real to me."

  "She thought she would see you again, in the future," Simone said in a barely audible voice.

  "What did you say?"

  "Did you tell her you were from the future?"

  "I...I tried to, but I don't think she really believed me."

  "She believed you," Simone's voice whispered in Julia's ear, sending a shiver down her spine. She opened her eyes and looked into the same eyes that still haunted her. "Come with me, Julia." Taking Simone's hand, Julia stood and followed her. The night air carried a chill as Simone took a lantern and walked behind the main house and up a small rise. When they reached a large fenced area, Simone held the gate for Julia and led the way until they stopped in front of a weathered headstone. Holding the lantern close to the stone, Julia read the inscription.

  Simone Moreau 1782-1847 Je vous attendrai, ma bien-aimée.

  "She left instructions in her will to have this carved onto her tombstone," Simone said. "Her brother saw that it was done and apparently never questioned it. I assume he knew of the relationship between you and Simone."

  "Yes. Anton knew."

  Looking at the inscription, Simone read, "I shall wait for you, my beloved." The sound of her voice sent chills through Julia's body. Stepping back and turning to face her, Simone said, "She waited for you as long as she could. She waited a lifetime."

  Spinning away and covering her eyes, Julia sobbed for her loss. She felt strong arms wrap around her from behind and sank into their warmth and comfort. "What am I going to do? I don't think I can live without feeling you beside me."

  "I shall hold you in my heart always, mon amour"a soft French-accented voice whispered on a light breeze and Julia knew instantly who was speaking.

  "And I shall hold you in mine, my love" Julia whispered in return. Moving within the circle of the arms holding her, she looked at the beautiful smiling face she loved so much and drew Simone into a breathless kiss to welcome her home again. She felt soft lips respond to hers, deepening the desire inside her, and didn't want to think about the past or the future, only what existed at that moment as she kissed her lover once again across time.

  As Simone brought their kiss to a reluctant end, she held Julia close. Her voice filled with emotion as she tried to make sense of what was happening. "I won't try to explain what I have felt from the moment I saw your picture, but I should like to learn more about you and your dreams, if you would allow it."

  Smiling up at Simone, Julia said, "I think I would like that. I would like that very much."

  Wrapping an arm securely around Julia, Simone took her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm as they turned to walk away from the cemetery.

  More Brenda Adcock titles:

  Pipeline

  What do you do when the mistakes you made in the past come back to slap you in the face with a vengeance? Joanna Carlisle, a fifty-seven year old photojournalist, has only begun to adjust to retirement on her small ranch outside Kerrville, Texas, when she finds herself unwillingly sucked into an investigation of illegal aliens being smuggled into the United States to fill the ranks of cheap labor needed to increase corporate profits.

  Joanna is a woman who has always lived life her way and on her own terms, enjoying a career that had given her everything she thought she ever wanted or needed. An unexpected visit by her former lover, Cate Hammond, and the attempted murder of their son, forces Jo to finally face what she had given up. Although she hasn't seen Cate or their son for fifteen years, she finds that the feelings she had for Cate had only been dormant, but had never died. No matter how much she fights her attraction to Cate, Jo cannot help but wonder whether she had made the right decision when she chose career and independence over love.

  Jo comes to understand the true meaning of friendship and love only when her investigation endangers not only her life, but also the lives of the people around her.

  ISBN 978-1-932300-64-2

  Reiko's Garden

  Hatred, hell, like, love; hell knows no boundaries.

  How much impact can one person have on a life?

  When sixty-five-year old Callie Owen returns to her rural childhood home in Eastern Tennessee to attend the funeral of a woman she hasn't seen in twenty years, she's forced to face the fears, heartache, and turbulent events that scarred both her body and her mind. Drawing strength from Jean, her partner of thirty years, and from their two grown children, Callie stays in the valley longer than she had anticipated and relives the years that changed her life forever.

  In 1949, Japanese war bride Reiko Sanders came to Frost Valley, Tennessee with her soldier husband and infant son. Callie Owen was an inquisitive ten-yearold whose curiosity about the stranger drove her to disobey her father for just one peek at the woman who had become the subject of so much speculation. Despite Callie's fears, she soon finds that the exotic-looking woman is kind and caring, and the two forge a tentative, but secret friendship.

  When Callie and her five brothers and sisters were left orphaned, Reiko provided emotional support to Callie. The bond between them continued to grow stronger until Callie left Frost Valley as a teenager, emotionally and physically scarred, vowing never to return and never to forgive.

  It's not until Callie goes "home" that she allows herself to remember how Reiko influenced her life. Once and for all, can she face the terrible events of her past? Or will they come back to destroy all that she loves?

  ISBN 978-1-932300-77-2

  Redress of Grievances

  In the first of a series of psychological thrillers, Harriett Markham is a defense attorney in Austin, Texas, who lost everything eleven years earlier. She had been an associate with a Dallas firm and involved in an affair with a senior partner, Alexis Dunne. Harriett represented a rape/murder client named Jared Wilkes and got the charges dismissed on a technicality. When Wilkes committed a rape and murder after his release, Harriett was devastated. She resigned and moved to Austin, leaving everything behind, including her lover.

  Despite lingering feelings for Alexis, Harriet becomes involved with a sex-offense investigator, Jessie Rains, a woman struggling with secrets of her own. Harriet thinks she might finally be happy, but then Alexis re-enters her life. She refers a case of multiple homicide allegedly committed by Sharon Taggart, a woman with no motive for the crimes. Harriett is creeped out by the brutal murders, but reluctantly agrees to handle the defense.

&nb
sp; As Harriett's team prepares for trial, disturbing information comes to light. Sharon denies any involvement in the crimes, but the evidence against her seems overwhelming. Harriett is plunged into a case rife with twisty psychological motives, questionable sanity, and a client with a complex and disturbing life. Is she guilty or not? And will Harriet's legal defense bring about justice--or another Wilkes case?

  **Recipient of a 2008 award from the Golden Crown Literary Society, the premiere organization for the support and nourishment of quality lesbian literature. Redress of Grievances won in the category of Lesbian Mystery.**

  ISBN 978-1-932300-86-4

  Tunnel Vision

  Royce Brodie, a 50-year-old homicide detective in the quiet town of Cedar Springs, a bedroom community 30 miles from Austin, Texas, has spent the last seven years coming to grips with the incident that took the life of her partner and narrowly missed taking her own. The peace and quiet she had been enjoying is shattered by two seemingly unrelated murders in the same week: the first, a John Doe, and the second, a janitor at the local university.

  As Brodie and her partner, Curtis Nicholls, begin their investigation, the assignment of a new trainee disrupts Brodie's life. Not only is Maggie Weston Brodie's former lover, but her father had been Brodie's commander at the Austin Police Department and nearly destroyed her career.