Under the Moon Gate

by Marilyn Baron

  “Fine,” she said.

  “Okay, then. I’ll start locking up the house.”

  Patience went into the bedroom to change into slacks and closed-toe shoes, grabbed a sweater, her helmet, and her handbag, and joined Nathaniel in the driveway.

  “Hop on,” he instructed.

  She got on the bike and placed her hands around Nathaniel’s waist. He turned around and stared into her eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said and turned to the front. “It just feels good to have your arms around me.”

  “Don’t take it too personally.” Patience loosened her arms a little, thinking it felt good to be sassy.

  Nathaniel started the scooter, and they sped out of the driveway and out onto the winding roads into town. Patience tightened her grip against the real possibility of colliding with the rough-cut limestone walls that bordered the highway.

  “Nathaniel, you drive like a maniac. You’d do better staying off the roads and sticking to the sea.”

  “I can’t hear you,” he shouted.

  Or you don’t want to. She had to admit it felt good to get out, to smell the fresh ocean air and the scent of the flowers, feel the wind against her face, and see other people. She loved to watch them as they went about their daily business, lived their quiet lives. And it felt so right to have her arms wrapped around Nathaniel.

  When Nathaniel got to the first traffic circle, she closed her eyes, hung on tight, and screamed.

  “Nathaniel, we almost got hit by that public bus.”

  “I had plenty of room.”

  By the time they arrived in town, parked on Front Street, and locked the scooter, her muscles were aching from gripping her hands so tightly around Nathaniel’s waist.

  “That was scarier than a roller coaster ride,” Patience said.

  “Have you ever been on a roller coaster?” he asked quizzically.

  “Well, no,” she admitted.

  “I didn’t think so. I’ll bet there’s a lot of things you haven’t done.” Nathaniel looked at her intently and she blushed. “But the ride was exciting, wasn’t it?”

  Patience frowned. “Yes, for a near-death experience. Well, where do you want to go first?”

  “I’d like to talk about where you want to go and where you’ve been. Cecilia told me you’d never been off the island. Not even for school?”

  “We have fine schools here,” Patience remarked, thinking back to the only time she ever remembered her grandparents argue. Her grandfather had fought to keep her in school on the island. Her grandmother thought sending her to a school in England would be best for her. In the end, her grandfather’s will was stronger. Anytime her grandmother had suggested a family trip off-island, her grandfather had voiced his objections.

  “Why do we need to see the world, when we’re living right here in paradise?” She recalled his words and his effort to make light of the situation. When her grandmother had started to cry, he had kissed her and taken her into his arms and said, “We don’t need anybody else. We have each other. I need to keep her close, Diana.” And something about the way his voice had pleaded and the fear his eyes had communicated had quieted her. Patience couldn’t explain his reaction, but she loved him, respected his wishes, and knew he was doing what he thought best for his family. She had never felt stifled. She loved Bermuda and she didn’t care if she never left.

  “I attended locally.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “Never even been to Europe?” he inquired.

  “No. I told you. But I’ve always wanted to go to Virginia.”

  “Then you should.”

  ****

  Nathaniel had been all over the world several times now. Always running from something or toward something. He wasn’t sure which. But whatever he was searching for, he hadn’t found it yet. Until now. He was thinking he’d like to be the one to show Patience the places he’d been so they could experience them together.

  Whitestone or von Hesselweiss or whatever his name was had kept his wife and granddaughter under lock and key. He’d probably convinced himself it was for their protection, but that hadn’t been fair to Patience or her grandmother.

  “Where do you want to go first?” Patience repeated.

  “How about Gibbons Company? I’ve heard some good things about that store. Or A.S. Cooper & Son’s, or maybe Davison’s of Bermuda.”

  “Fine,” she said. “They’re all great department stores, and they’re all on Front Street. Let’s walk to the end of the block and start there, and work our way back.”

  Crowds poured into the street and flooded into the stores and boutiques to load up on designer clothing from Europe, jewelry, china and crystal, woolen fabrics, perfumes, local products and crafts, and tacky T-shirts. It seemed Patience had been in all the shops at one time or another, knew most of the shop owners, and was even related to some.

  ****

  Patience looked forward to sharing everything about Bermuda with Nathaniel.

  There were the touristy things that were a must on any visitor’s shopping list—Outerbridge’s Original Sherry Peppers sauce, Gosling’s Black Seal rum, black rum cake, and Bermuda fish chowder.

  “I want you to see all the galleries and studios, too,” Patience said. “There’s Carole Holding, Diana Higginbottom, Birdsey prints are wonderful, and Michael Swan has the prettiest prints of pastel cottages and shutters. And then there’s Pegasus. The shop is a bit of a walk from here, but it’s got some great botanical prints and antique maps. It’s a sailor’s paradise.”

  “Now why should I buy from any other artist when I have my very own talented artist right at home, and I could have a PKW original?”

  Patience, unused to compliments about her watercolors, blushed.

  Nathaniel slid his hand down Patience’s arm and latched his fingers around hers. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and a little like a teenager on a first date.

  She looked up at Nathaniel as their hands touched and she felt a tingle right down to her toes. She didn’t cast off his hand. It felt too good in hers.

  “We’re here,” she announced. He kept his hand in hers as they walked through the doors of Davison’s.

  The manager stepped up to greet them.

  “Patience, it’s so good to see you out, finally. I was so sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the card and the flowers you sent.”

  “This must be the cousin,” the man said, amused, causing Patience to guiltily let go of Nathaniel’s hand.

  “Uh, this is Nathaniel Morgan, from Virginia,” Patience explained. “It’s his first time in town.”

  “Fantastic. What can I help you find?”

  “Well, right now, we’re just browsing.”

  “Lovely. Just let me know if you need anything.”

  As Patience and Nathaniel walked through the store, she was stopped by at least five more people who offered their condolences.

  “Do you know everybody in Bermuda?” he asked.

  “Almost. That’s what happens when you live in one place all your life.”

  Two hours later, loaded down with shopping bags, Patience suggested they walk across the street to the harbor and rest on a bench while they looked at the waterfront.

  “It’s so serene, isn’t it?” Patience asked. “I never get tired of watching all the boats.”

  “Yes,” he answered. “Can you recommend a good jewelry store?”

  Patience looked at him warily. He said he had no one to go home to, but he probably did have a girl back home. She had just assumed he was unattached. For all she knew, he might even be married. What an idiot she was, to think she even had a chance with him. He was leaving, and he wanted to bring his special girl a trinket, a sign of his affection. Why did the thought of another woman with Nathaniel make her feel so horrible?

  “Of course. Astwood Dickinson,” she replied without enthusiasm.

  �
�Let me guess. It’s on Front Street too.”

  “That’s right.” She laughed and gave him directions.

  “I need to make a quick run, and I’ll be right back here. You rest on the bench and guard the packages.”

  She watched him cross the street in hurried strides.

  ****

  Patience hadn’t asked him why he had a need for a jewelry store. Had she asked, she would have discovered how nervous he was around such places. The last time he’d been in one, he was with his college sweetheart looking for an engagement ring. And that experience had ended badly, with his fiancée walking out on him the week before their wedding to run off with a golf pro. And not just any golf pro. His golf pro. It was humiliating.

  If he had read the signs, he would have known from the beginning he had nothing in common with Jenna. When he spoke of history, he came alive with the magic of it, while her eyes glazed over. History bored her to tears, and she complained about his “obsession with something that was dead and gone.”

  In an attempt to bridge the gap, Nathaniel had arranged for Jenna to take private golf lessons at his club to get her interested in another one of his hobbies. He thought perhaps that would give them some common ground. As it turned out, the pro must have given her some extra lessons on the side. Her game never improved, but the pro had evidently scored a hole in one.

  Nathaniel had wondered what Jenna could possibly find so stimulating to discuss over the dinner table with a golf pro. Then he discovered talk wasn’t the only thing she found stimulating about the guy.

  Jenna didn’t see the connections of history like Patience did. Instead, she had been obsessed with picking out silver, crystal, and china patterns, and dealing with guest lists and invitations. Marriage had been her idea, and he had gone along with it, like a ship without an anchor, adrift in the ocean.

  In a moment of honesty with himself, Nathaniel had been certain history would repeat itself in the form of another failed marriage like that of his parents. And if by some chance they did have a child together, Jenna would probably take off just like his mother did. And that would leave another devastated child to grow up without a mother.

  As the wedding date approached, Nathaniel had been filled with a growing sense of dread instead of the happiness he knew he should have been feeling. It went deeper than a simple case of pre-wedding bridegroom jitters. Gran had called it. Gran, who had taught him everything he knew about people, the importance of family, and even about love.

  “She’s not the one,” Gran had announced with simple conviction.

  And with a sudden flash of clarity he had known it, too. But he would stand by his promise to Jenna. He was blindsided when she called him and told him things weren’t going to work out between them. Adding to the indignity, she had broken off the engagement over the phone, afraid to face him—or not caring enough to bother. She danced around an explanation and never admitted there was someone else, never really apologized. So Nathaniel bailed on his life in Virginia and sailed away, leaving Gran to explain everything away to the relatives and guests. He never looked back or regretted his decision, except for the trouble it must have caused Gran.

  By the time he returned to Virginia his grandmother was dying, and Jenna and the golf pro were married. So much for true love! It was no less than he expected. As a result, he had given up on golf and on marriage in general.

  ****

  Patience looked at her watch. Nathaniel had been gone a long time. She dozed off again and woke up when he nudged her shoulder. She didn’t see a package. Maybe he didn’t find what he was looking for at the jewelry shop. It wasn’t her place to ask, anyway.

  “Patience, I think you must have sleeping sickness,” Nathaniel said. “Where were you just now?”

  She had been dreaming of sailing to strange and interesting places, of doing unpredictable things, instead of the expected, every day for the rest of her life. She wanted to see the world. All the places she’d only read about. And she wanted to have the freedom and flexibility Nathaniel had to live his life how he chose. Instead of being suspended in a protective and suffocating cocoon spun by listening to all the tales her grandfather had spun for her and all the lies he had told.

  “Nothing, really,” she answered wistfully.

  “Hey, I’m starving. You must be, too. Where can we eat?”

  “The Lobster Pot. That’s my favorite place for lunch. They have the best local lobster, and I’m craving an apple fritter with plenty of whipped cream.”

  “Lead the way.” Nathaniel grabbed some of the packages, and when he put his arm around Patience’s shoulder as they walked toward Bermudiana Road, she tried to push it off, with no success.

  “What’s up? You won’t hold hands, and you won’t let me put my arm around you. Can’t you cut me a break?”

  “Patience?” An older, fashionably dressed woman in front of them signaled.

  “Judith,” she acknowledged, guiltily.

  “How are you doing, dear?” the woman asked kindly.

  “I’m fine, thank you. We were just, Nathaniel suggested that—”

  “I forced her out of the house to get some fresh air. I thought she needed a break.”

  “Of course she does. Nathaniel, it’s so nice to see you again. It’s comforting for Patience to have her family looking after her in her time of need. You do remember me from the committee meeting?”

  “Of course. And it’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Overbrook. Thank you for your concern for Patience.”

  “Well, dear, we’re so happy to see her back at the meetings. Patience, your ideas for the celebration are lovely.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do, please call.”

  “I will,” Patience assured her.

  As Judith Overbrook walked away, Patience hissed, “You see? Everyone is talking about us. They think you’re my cousin. How will that look if we’re holding hands, or touching, or—”

  “I couldn’t care less how it looks,” Nathaniel said boldly. “You sure do know a lot of people.”

  “They’re friends, Nathaniel. Well-meaning friends. Let’s duck into the restaurant before anyone else sees us.”

  “Don’t I get any credit for being charming?” Nathaniel teased.

  “A little.”

  After the restaurant owner expressed his condolences and Patience spoke with several other businessmen and acquaintances she knew in the lunch crowd, she and Nathaniel settled into a table at the back of the room.

  “It’s good and dark in here,” Patience observed, looking around at the sleekly polished wood tones of the maritime decor. “Private.”

  “Why, what did you have in mind? Do you want to be alone with me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I just want to be left alone. Don’t you see?”

  He reached across the table to stroke her hand.

  “Trouble is, Patience, I can’t leave you alone.” Nathaniel got up from the booth and sat beside her on the upholstered bench seat, kissed her lightly on the lips, then more urgently, flustering and exciting her. “I can’t stop touching you. I don’t want to stop. Let’s get out of here, Patience.”

  “I thought you were hungry,” she whispered trying to catch her breath.

  “I am,” he said, looking straight at her until she blushed. It was time, way past time.

  PART FOUR

  Destiny and Revenge

  Bermuda 2013

  Chapter 27

  It was time. Soon she would see. And he would finally get what he deserved. What he had been waiting for all these years. Revenge and reward. And wouldn’t they both be sweet? “William Whitestone” got what was coming to him, and now Patience would pay for the sins of her grandfather. History was repeating itself. He didn’t feel sorry for her. Not one bit. In fact, he hated her.

  He had plotted and he had planned, and all his hard work was about to pay off. How would he do it? He’d thought long and hard about
that, hidden away in his cramped quarters while she pranced around Marigold House without a care in the world. The pampered, spoiled grandchild. Well, things were about to change.

  Would he shoot her? Too impersonal. Then it would be over too fast. Drowning would be easy, but too good for her. Accidental fall? No. Torture left a nice taste in his mouth. Slow and painful. Apparent suicide? She was so distraught over the brutal death of her grandfather and the tragic death of her grandmother so soon after. She had always been fragile. No wonder she couldn’t go on living. Maybe he’d even force her to write her own suicide note.

  He’d enjoy watching her beg and plead for her life, but there would be no one to hear her screams. He needed to make her suffer, the way he had suffered.

  But first, of course, he would collect his due. After all, what would she need with money after she was dead?

  He’d have to get her alone. But that sea captain barely let her out of his sight. He would have to lure the man away with a warning that Patience was in danger and demand that he meet him at a designated place in town. That would leave pretty Patience defenseless. Yes, it would be better to do it in the house where he had killed her grandfather. They’d start in the study. That would be fitting.

  He needed a drink now. It would make the years of neglect and disillusion easier to swallow. Time to take the bus into town. No one knew him, so he could have a drink anywhere. He’d enjoy some fish chowder, washed down by a Dark ’n Stormy™. Prices were high in Bermuda, so he couldn’t afford to splurge. Not yet. Killing William Whitestone had been satisfying, but in his rage he hadn’t thought the plan through. He’d killed the man before he could arrange to squeeze more money out of him afterwards. Things would be different with Patience.

  She and her sea captain were up to something. He knew they were. He had caught wind of it when he rifled through the papers on the boat, but the man had come back before he could make sense of what he was seeing. He’d had to leave before he was ready. Something about gold, a fortune to be had. He knew that Whitestone was an important man. And rich. And some of that money rightfully belonged to him.

  He had tried to frighten Patience with phone calls, which had worked, up to a point, until the sea captain started answering the phone. And he didn’t scare easily. He was living with her in the house now, and that complicated things. So, no more threatening calls or notes to the girl. She was frightened enough.