Forever, For Love

by Becky Lee Weyrich

  Each time he cursed her, he rammed deeper, making her cry out in pain and fear. Had he withdrawn, they might have settled things short of matrimony, but a fever was in Jacob’s blood now. He wanted to punish Angelica for her deceit. In punishing her, he also sentenced himself to the altar. When he finally climaxed and rolled away from her, Angelica lay there sobbing in her fury.

  “No, Jacob Saenger,” she said with deadly quiet, “damn you! I came here to tell you the truth, to call off the wedding. You could have had your precious Pandora and good riddance to the both of you. Now you’ve done it; I may truly be with child! Now you will marry me!”

  Angelica rose from the bed with as much dignity as she could muster. Jacob still stood there, his britches open. He stared at her with an idiot’s expression on his face. His head ached, but he was cold sober now.

  She was gone within minutes, leaving a trail of lusty curses in her wake. Jacob, sick at heart, still reeling from what had happened and what she had told him, stood in the middle of the room unable to make himself move.

  “Yes, now you have done it.” He parroted Angelica’s accusing words, feeling his blood turn to ice water in his veins. “You have no choice now but to marry her. What she lied about before, you made fact.”

  He hated the whole idea of taking Angelica as his wife. Suddenly, he told himself he did not have to marry Angelica. With calm deliberation, he strode to his desk and drew out the pistol he kept against intruders. He cradled the gun in his hands as if it were a newborn infant.

  “I have another choice,” he said aloud.

  Slowly, determinedly he put the muzzle to his head and closed his eyes. He had no idea how long he stood there. He imagined every second was his last. It would be so simple and painless—a bullet to the brain and then oblivion. After a long time, his finger still frozen on the trigger, he lowered the gun.

  “Coward,” he accused bitterly though in the deepest part of his heart, Jacob Saenger knew that living would take far more courage than death.

  Pandora felt like a corpse with a frozen smile on its face. Yet she knew by her pain that she still lived.

  She gazed about, seeing the flowers everywhere, the guests, the gifts, the minister, the couple standing before him, speaking their vows even now. It all seemed like one of her visions—a terrible nightmare that would go away as soon as she awoke from her trance. But it was all too real. This was the here and the now and the forevermore. The wedding gown she should be wearing was worn by another woman and the man she should have married was slipping a heavy gold band on another bride’s finger.

  Angelica was Mrs. Jacob Saenger!

  Pandora couldn’t bring herself to believe that this moment had actually arrived. Since her return home, she had forced herself to imagine that Jacob would call it off.

  To the very last moment, Pandora had expected Angelica to back out, if Jacob didn’t. Yes, that would be like Angelica, she had told herself, to wait to the final possible instant. She would enjoy the show, the excitement, the wearing of the fabulous gown, all antique satin covered with pearls. Her greatest thrill would come as the minister asked her to repeat her vows; she would shock all of Galveston as she shamed Jacob, refusing him publicly, humiliating him before friends and family at the instant they would have been wed.

  But it hadn’t happened. Pandora stood stiffly, feeling cold seep into her heart as she watched Jacob kiss his new wife.

  Nothing was left for her except to return to Paris, where she would search her soul, trying to discover who she was and where she should go from here. She would live her own life, uncluttered by husband and children.

  I am an artist, she reminded herself, silently, desperately.

  This was why she’d been unable to see her future with Jacob. They had no future! She thought for a moment of Jean Laffite and Nicolette. Perhaps a soul was allowed only one such love to last through all eternity. If that was so, then she must find her Jean or live alone for the rest of this life.

  At that very moment, Ward Gabriel, who was standing close at her side, took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Pandora, are you all right?”

  She looked up into his handsome, anxious face. His dark eyes caressed her, sending a shiver along her spine. The lines about his mouth showed his genuine concern.

  “Of course not,” she admitted, trying to smile at him. “But I shall survive.”

  “I’d say you’ve held up magnificently. Were I in your place, I’d be screaming and throwing things. Or I would have escaped last night under cover of darkness. Why did you stay, Pandora? Why did you put yourself through this?”

  She smiled weakly at him. “The truth is I never believed for a moment that she would actually go through with it. Even this morning…” Tears choked off her words. She looked down and shook her head.

  Ward heaved a great sigh. “I should have told you everything, even the gossip, but I was hoping to spare you some pain,” he said.

  “Gossip?”

  He leaned down close so that no one else would hear, although the whole island was buzzing about it already. “Rumor has it that Angelica is enceinte.”

  Pandora had guessed as much, but the trembling that suddenly seized her made her realize that for the first time she truly believed it.

  “Ward, may I ask you a great favor?” Pandora whispered.

  He glanced down at her hands, gripping his arm. Her eyes, he noticed, glittered with unshed tears.

  “Anything,” he told her gently.

  “Tonight, if you have no plans, will you take me to dinner? It’s terribly important to me that there be no rumors that I still care for Jacob. I won’t be laughed at or pitied. That I could not bear!”

  Ward covered her hands with his. “Dear Pandora, if I had any plans I would certainly cancel them to be with you. As it happens, you beat me to the punch. I had planned to invite you out tonight. I had thought of the same reasons as you. I had another purpose as well.”

  “Which was?”

  He laughed—a good warm laugh—then shrugged. “I wanted to be with you. It’s as simple as that.”

  The lavish reception would have been a torture had it not been for Ward. He stayed at Pandora’s side, acting the jealous protector all the while. When Jacob—stiff-faced and nervous—pleaded with Pandora for a moment alone, Ward’s ominous demeanor quickly sent the groom back to his bride.

  “He looks terrible,” Pandora remarked sympathetically.

  “I’m sure any man would view Angelica with a touch of fear. She even tried her wiles on me one evening. She is a formidible schemer, that one. Perhaps motherhood will settle her down.”

  Finally, the bride and groom left amidst a showering of rose petals and good wishes. They would spend two nights at the Tremont Hotel before moving in with old Dr. Saenger. The good German physician, a widower for many years, had made no bones about his plans for his new daughter-in-law’s future. Beaming at the horrified Angelica, he had said to her earlier during the reception, “Ah, it’s good Jacob and I will have a woman about to cook for us again. You know how to make sausage and sauerkraut, my dear?”

  When Angelica refused his suggestion with a violent shake of her head, the old man beamed at his son. “Then Jacob will teach you, Angelica. A German wife must always be a good cook.”

  As the guests were departing, Aunt Tabitha slumped, exhausted, into an overstuffed chair. Uncle Horace, spying Pandora and Ward, came to them, beaming with the pleasure only a father can feel on having successfully married off a daughter.

  “Ah, Ward my boy! I haven’t had a moment to speak with you. I don’t know how I’ll manage without you. Buyers of your excellent taste and superior bargaining power are hard to find.” Horace grinned and slapped Ward on the back. “Remember the time I over-bought on those copper bathtubs—could have cost me a mint. You said not to worry, you’d unload them. Sold the whole lot to that tribe of cannibals in South America. Told them they were fancy cookpots. And you let the
m pay in trinkets. Solid gold trinkets! Made a damn fortune on the deal. Ah, Ward, those were the days. I wish you luck. You say the silver strike was a big one?”

  Pandora hadn’t any idea what her uncle meant. “Silver strike?” she said.

  Ward nodded and his smile became as self-conscious as a boy’s. “Yes. A well-kept secret from my frivilous youth. I foolishly sank most of my inheritance into a silver mine in Mexico years ago. For the longest time, it seemed I’d been set upon by a shifty trader. The fellow had salted the mine. When I found that out, I figured I’d bought a dud. Since all my money was in it, there was nothing to do but keep digging. While you were away, we struck a rich vein.”

  “The damn mother lode is what he struck, so I’ve heard, my dear,” Horace Sherwood put in. “Rich as a lord, he is. Probably be moving to Mexico now, eh, Ward?”

  “No, Horace. I plan to stay right here in Galveston. Of course, I’ll make frequent trips to the mine. I’m going to build here, put my money in the place I think of as home.”

  “Good for you, Ward! Good for our local economy, too.”

  Horace wandered off, puffing his cigar, making Pandora choke as the smoke drifted her way.

  “A silver mine!” she gasped when she could speak again. “That sounds very romantic.”

  Ward laughed. “It’s a lot of dirty hard work. Very little romance, I’m afraid. But it’s paying off, Pandora. I stuck to my dream, and finally after all these years…”

  “Yes, it does pay to stick to one’s dreams, or so I’ve heard,” she said wistfully.

  Pandora wanted to go to the Tremont Hotel for dinner that night, but Ward thought that would be going a bit too far to prove her point. Granted, Dr. and Mrs. Saenger were hardly likely to put in an appearance in the dining room, but Ward worried that Pandora would be unable to eat, thinking of the couple upstairs somewhere, doing what brides and grooms do.

  “I suggest the Beach Hotel instead,” Ward offered. “Even though it’s off season, there’s a big private party there this evening. Mrs. Landes and her Concert Society patrons. If you want to be seen tonight, that’s definitely the place to go.”

  Pandora finally agreed. After all, the whole purpose of their being out together was to let all of Galveston know that she was not home crying into her pillow on her former fiancé’s wedding night. If they went to the Tremont, it might seem as though she was trying to spy on Jacob and Angelica.

  Ward looked especially dashing tonight, Pandora mused, as she entered the hotel dining room on his arm. It almost seemed as if he had gone to special effort to make a good showing for her benefit. She certainly had taken extra pains. She’d spent the whole afternoon in her bedroom, trying to decide what she should wear. Finally, she settled upon one of her “trousseau” gowns. The dress of patterned maroon on a light ground was made of velours frappe or stamped velvet and fit her slender figure with sheath-like closeness. The simple design of the long-sleeved gown was set off by a high collar and deep cuffs of lace, and a sweeping caftan of beige velvet trailed gracefully behind her like the foam of a wave. Her only jewelry was the single gold and opal earring from the box Ward had given her on her birthday.

  As the head waiter led them to their table, Ward whispered, “Don’t look now, Pandora, but everyone’s staring at you. Probably because you’re wearing only one earring.” He squeezed her arm and chuckled. “Or it could be they’re staring at me because I’m with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

  With that remark, Ward set the tone for the evening—light bantering, nothing too serious. Pandora was glad. Ward, as she had learned in New York, was better for her than celery tonic. He was so easy to be with, so interesting to talk to, and such a good listener. She hadn’t the least doubt that most of the heads that turned, did so to stare at Ward Gabriel—not only because he was so handsome, but because he was now a celebrity in Galveston, with his newly-struck vein of Mexican silver. It gave Pandora a delicious feeling inside to realize that she was the envy of every woman in the room. She hardly spared a thought all evening for the newlyweds.

  Not until after dinner, when they were seated side by side in Ward’s surrey headed back toward Broadway, did the old familiar ache come over her again.

  “Ward, I don’t want to go home yet,” she said.

  “Where would you like to go? Name the place and my chariot shall speed you there, fair lady!”

  “Could we go to your cottage?” she asked hesitantly.

  Ward frowned. That was the one place he’d hoped she wouldn’t suggest. He didn’t want to be alone with Pandora. Or, to be perfectly honest, he wanted that far too much.

  “Pandora, are you sure that would be wise?” he asked gently. “You know how people talk.”

  “I don’t care! Let them say whatever they like. I won’t be here to listen to their gossip much longer.”

  When he still hesitated, Pandora said, “I need to talk to you, Ward, where it’s quiet and I don’t have to be afraid of others overhearing.”

  Ward had wanted this chance with Pandora for so long. He’d be a fool to turn it down. Maybe he could make her understand tonight how much he truly cared for her. He might even be able to convince her to stay in Galveston. He agreed, then turned the horse toward home.

  Ward’s cottage was just as Pandora remembered it—the shells, the shark, the lovely paintings, and the view of the beach. It was such a cozy place that she immediately felt relaxed and comfortable. When Ward closed the door behind them it was as if he had closed out the rest of the world and all its troubles and worries.

  Ward laid a fire from the basket of driftwood on the hearth and soon had a blaze roaring brightly.

  “Would you like a brandy, Pandora?”

  “Please.” She was moving slowly about the room, her fingertips trailing over the backs of chairs, across tabletops. Finally she stopped to finger the objects on the mantelpiece.

  “You told Uncle Horace you plan to build, Ward. What will you do with this place when your new house is ready?”

  “Oh, sell it, I suppose. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”

  “Would you sell it to me?” she asked.

  “To you? I thought you meant to leave Galveston. Pandora, I’ll give you this place, if it will keep you here. You know I don’t want you to go.”

  Their eyes met as he handed her the brandy sniffer. In that instant, Pandora didn’t want to go. If only she could stay here forever, locked away from the rest of the world—with Ward—safe and secure in his cozy cottage. But, of course, that was impossible.

  Ward sat down on the couch in front of the fire, patting the place next to him for her to come sit. She did, settling very close to him, desperately in need of his warmth and understanding.

  “I feel so strange tonight, Ward,” she said solemnly. “As if I’ve been set adrift. I don’t really know where I’ll go or what I’ll do. Only one thing is clear: I must leave Galveston.”

  Then the whole tale of Dr. Pinel and the treatment she’d undergone came tumbling out. She confessed her belief in reincarnation and her former existence as Nicolette.

  Ward sat, silent and staring at her, wondering if she’d drunk too much champagne at dinner. Mesmerism! Reincarnation! It was all a bunch of drivel! He listened patiently to Pandora’s narrative, all the while marveling at the firelight dancing mysteriously in her wide green eyes. The light in her eyes matched the intensity of the blazing fire inside the single opal earring she wore.

  “So, you see, Ward, if Jean Laffite is alive now in another incarnation, then I must find him.” She gazed into the fire, a faraway look on her face. “But the chances of such a discovery are slim. I have to admit that to myself.”

  She stared up at him, waiting for some response. She had just poured out her whole heart to this man. She had a special reason for doing so, but somehow everything depended upon his reaction to her story.

  “Poppycock!” he burst out. “Pandora, you can’t be serious!
All this talk of reincarnation, I don’t believe a bit of it.” He smiled and leaned toward her, letting his fingertips stroke her cheek. “If you’re convinced you must find your passionate pirate lover, I suggest you begin your search right here and now. Maybe I’m your lost love. Wouldn’t that be convenient for both of us?”

  Ward gave her no chance to answer. He closed his arms around her and covered her tempting mouth with his. He’d been waiting a long time for this. Now that she was a free woman, he meant to have his chance. Pandora did not resist.

  She was shaken by Ward’s unexpected kiss. This was not at all like the other times, yet it almost seemed to have happened just this way before. What else had they done before? She had to find out.

  “I’ve known friendships to turn into love, Pandora,” he said as he drew away. “If you stayed here and I wooed you properly, we just might fall in love. Are you telling me that if that happened you would absolutely refuse to marry me, only because my soul is the wrong one?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied, still slightly dazed. “I would never marry you.” She offered him a flirtatious smile and whispered huskily, “I would become your lover instead.”

  Ward felt the hair on the back of his neck rise in warning—for Pandora as well as for himself. She was treading dangerous waters. If she was about to propose that they become lovers starting this very night, she would get little argument from him. In the past few months, the idea had crossed his mind more often than he liked to admit.

  “Well, I’m relieved to hear that you don’t plan to die a virgin.” He laughed and stroked her cheek. “What a waste that would be.”

  Pandora hoped that Ward would take the excited blush of her cheeks for heat from the fire. He had given her the very opening she sought. Now it was time to make her move. She stood and glanced toward the bedroom and the water closet beyond.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” she whispered.

  “You know where it is—far side of the bedroom,” he told her.