by Liz Madrid
“So she’s your aunt.”
“Yes,” Heath says, nodding his head as he brushes the crumbs from his jeans. He then pops open the wine and pours me a glass though after a few sips, I decide to drink water. With mimosas in the morning and all that rosé wine during the afternoon tea, I think it’s time to rehydrate myself. After all, riding horses through the surf is hard work.
After we clear up the plates and place them all in the basket, I lie back down and stare at the sky. Wally and Fred come by to gather the basket and tell Heath they’ll return shortly. Our horses remain next to the trail.
“If I lie here one more minute, I’ll fall asleep,” I tell him, though I don’t even try to get up. Other than the stressful tea party, no day in my life so far could be more perfect than this.
“Would you like to watch the sunset?” Heath asks. “With a full moon, we should have no problem making our way back up.”
“Sure, I’ve never seen a sunset from the beach before,” I say as he lays on his side next to me.
For the next few minutes, we simply listen to the surf as I look up at the sky, the colors changing as the day is beginning its transition into dusk. When I turn to look at Heath, I see that he’s watching me.
His eyes are a soft gray blue against the backdrop of the slowly darkening sky behind him. He looks relaxed, a slight smile on his lips. I hate to ask him the question I’m about to ask but I can’t help it. I need to know.
“Why did you leave out the part where you had your mother declared legally incapable of handling her affairs?” I ask. “I mean that’s important information, Heath.”
“My mother’s a proud woman,” he says, though he doesn’t continue. He simply looks out at the surf.
“And?” I ask softly. “But then, so are you.”
“You’re a proud woman, too, Billie. Why else would you want to pay me back for everything I’ve given you as part of getting Blythe out of Santa Barbara? Even after I’ve told you that you don’t have to?”
This time, it’s my turn to be quiet, for he’s right. I am proud, so proud that even though I only have ten grand in my business account, I hold it like a badge of honor. Everything else I own is tied into mutual funds and the house.
“My mother has Alzheimer’s,” Heath says a few minutes later. “She’s mostly there — or that’s what I tell myself until I can’t fool myself anymore. But as of the last year or so, she’s been more out of it than anything. And when she’s present, like when she really is aware of where she is, when she knows the year, the day, who she is and what’s happening, she scrambles to get me to know the things I need to know. And then the next day, she’s not there. She has a living will which names me as her trustee, the one responsible to make sure the conditions of her living trust are honored.”
“I’m sorry, Heath. I had no idea.”
“She has full-time nurses now,” Heath continues. “She’s still able to do physical things, and as long as she doesn’t deviate from her regular routine of museums and old movies, walks to the park or the beach, she’s fine. And on days when she’s really far gone, when she doesn’t even recognize her nurses, I come in. At least she remembers me.”
“What about Jessica and Ethan?”
He exhales. “Not so much. If Jessica visited more often, then maybe, but she doesn’t. And Ethan is just as busy as I am with his polo tournaments and his training.”
“Aren’t you busy, too?”
“I live in the city, but I also live with her whenever I’m upstate,” he says as he tugs the blanket back down, whipped up by the wind. “When she could no longer pass for someone who knew what was going on, I had her declared legally incapable to handle her affairs, and in a buy-sell agreement, bought every single share she owned just when the company encountered the first of two takeover attempts after father died.”
“Have you ever thought of letting Kheiron Industries go? After all, don’t you have your own company?”
“I could let it all go, Billie,” he says, shrugging.
“Why can’t you?”
“Because of the price she paid while she was married to my father, when she couldn’t divorce him because he had her committed and had her mental health questioned,” Heath replies, his gaze distant. “And because of her contribution, Kheiron Industries became as successful as it is, even if management does figure much into that equation, not just capital.”
He chuckles drily. “I can tell you more reasons, Billie, and each one of them just another excuse for me to keep hold of the company because I can. But maybe one day, I’ll get it out of my system and let it all go — let Kheiron Industries die its slow death with whoever wants to drive it to the ground next.”
“You’re paying a much higher price than everyone else is, Heath. I don’t see Ethan suffering any for your mother. Instead, he’s willing to expose her transgressions when he had much bigger ones of his own,” I say. “What about his cheating, his affairs, his mistresses? What about those? Who’s going to expose those?”
Heath smiles wryly. “He’s a man, Billie. To him, they were called weaknesses.”
“And is that your weakness, too, Heath? Or Ethan’s?” I ask. I’m sitting up now, wide awake, and he sits up, too, right next to me. “Is that what’s waiting for Blythe after she marries your brother? Or your wife when you get married?”
“I can’t speak for Ethan,” he says, “but that won’t be a weakness my wife would have to accept.”
“What would she have to accept then?”
“That I love her, and that she’s the only woman I’ll ever need, or want.”
“But surely with all your money, how hard would it be to have a woman on the side? Or two?” I ask.
“How hard would it be to have only one? Did you father have affairs?”
“No!” I reply, looking at him incredulously.
“Did your mother?”
“Of course not!”
Heath smiles wistfully. “And there’s your answer, Billie.”
The way he’s watching me makes my throat tighten. Why this moment has to be part of a charade grates at me. Why can’t it be for real?
I pull my gaze away from him, forcing myself to look at the orange-yellow horizon in front of us, the sound of the surf completing my first time to watch the sun set from a beach.
“In other news, that’s one gorgeous sky,” I say, sighing. “It’s beautiful”
“I know,” he says, though he’s not looking at the horizon.
“Thank you, Heath, for everything,” I stammer. “I’ve never had such a natural buzz as wonderful as this before — the horses, the surf, the view — everything.”
“You’re welcome,” he says softly. “Will I ruin this natural buzz if I kiss you?”
I glance around but there’s no one but us.
“You can stop pretending, Heath. There’s no one here to pretend to,” I murmur as he draws even closer, the smell of him making the butterflies in my belly come to life.
“All the more reason to kiss you then,” he says, and as he brings his hand to caress my cheek, he kisses me.
It’s a soft kiss, one that starts along my lower lip, so warm and so soft. It takes my breath away, the combination of the cool breeze, the surf and his kiss. And then there’s his hand caressing my cheek, now moving down my neck as his lips continue their soft exploration of my mouth, his tongue slipping between my lips as he tastes me. My hand moves up towards his face, feeling the stubble along his jaw, my fingers curling behind the back of his neck. When I find myself laying back down on the blanket, I realize that I’m holding on to him as my mind swirls with thoughts of the things I want him to do to me.
He pulls away and for a moment I wonder if he’s realized what a mistake we’re making — because we are. But he only pulls away to look at me, studying me with eyes that seem dark gray as I look up at him. Maybe he’s thinking that this is a mistake, too, but before I can convince myself that I need to stop, I pull Heath’s face back dow
n, my mouth seeking the feel of his lips, this time not because someone is watching us like Andrew, but because no one is watching.
I love the smell of him. It wakes up another part of me, one that I’ve never paid much attention to, the one that revels at simply being a woman. When Heath’s hand moves down my neck towards my waist, it’s to pull me closer, his body hot against mine. My body molds against his, and I bend my leg so my foot is between the space between his feet, trapping his leg between my own.
A phone rings in the distance and like teen-agers caught kissing on school night, we pull away from each other quickly. Heath hurries towards the horses and searches the saddle bags.
“It’s your phone,” he says, pulling my phone from Pie’s saddlebag and handing it to me, still ringing softly.
It’s Mick.
I get up and press Answer, my fingers still trembling from the kiss that should never have happened.
“What’s up?” I ask as calmly as I can.
“Blythe was here earlier today,” he says. “She asked me to let her into the upstairs apartment, and I did.”
“What did she want?”
“She said she needed her birth certificate and her old California ID, before she got herself a New York one — something to prove she’s who she is to some consulate in San Francisco,” Mick replies. “But I thought you guys were in New York.”
“Was she alone?” I ask, my mind racing. Our parents had kept our important documents in the safe, and after their death is kept them there, accompanied now with their death certificates and insurance policies.
“She was alone when she came into the shop but she came into town in some black Escalade, tinted windows and everything. I had customers in the store so I didn’t see who was with her.”
“Did she get them? Her papers?”
“She couldn’t get into your safe and she was mad as hell at Norah and me, like we’re supposed to know the combination,” Mick says angrily. “What the hell is going on, Billie?”
“I wish I knew, Mick,” I tell him even though I’m lying.
Of course I know what’s going on. It’s just as Heath has been telling me all this time. Blythe is applying for a new passport to get to Geneva.
21
Phoebe And Hilairia
I’m so angry at Blythe that I can barely see straight, and even Pie, my horse, gets agitated as we ride back up to the Crawford house. Heath, not wanting to stress the horses any further says nothing even after we thank Lorna and Bob and say good night, not even when we’re inside the car for we’re not alone. Wally is driving the Land Rover, and Fred is sitting in the passenger seat.
But then, if I do start speaking, I’d probably be yelling at Heath for no reason at all other than I feel so stupid for falling into the same role I always play with Blythe — that of the responsible twin while she’s just doing her own thing, with no thought for me or anyone else. Forget that I don’t know what to do next, or that I can’t help but feel so confused over my attraction to Heath despite everything else that’s going on.
And that’s what makes it worse, for it makes me feel so irresponsible — falling for Heath, when I should be doing more to get Blythe out of Santa Barbara. Instead, what do I do but ride horses through the surf and kiss men atop beach blankets.
“Talk to me,” Heath asks in a low voice as I walk into the suite. When I don’t answer, he shuts the door, and takes my arm, turning me around to face him.
“Talk to me,” he says again. “Who called? I can tell it wasn’t Blythe, but you’re still as upset as if it was her who did.”
“It was Mick, the kid minding the shop. Blythe was in Nevada City,” I say numbly, staring straight at the buttons of his denim shirt. “She wanted her papers — birth certificate, a copy of her old California ID card before she moved to New York permanently. They’re all stored in our parents’ safe-”
“She’s going to Geneva then,” Heath says quietly, exhaling. “She needs a valid passport to enter the country, first of all, and to collect the money. And with you holding her documents, she’s probably applying for a new one.”
“She can collect the money for all I care,” I say angrily, walking away from him, past the luxurious living room with a view of the green gardens and the ocean just beyond the double doors. “I’m done protecting her. If she’s so stupid as to let someone give her four million dollars and think it’s all a gift or whatever, then she can stay stupid. I am done with her, Heath. And if she’s guilty, then I’ll just visit her in jail. She’ll just have to get used to the idea that orange will suit her skin tone just fine.”
Heath frowns. “You can’t be done, not when you’re so close-”
“Close to what? A woman who refuses to believe me because I’m with you, that I made my choice and hedged my bets on the losing team? She could be next door for all I care, but I can’t do anything about stupid,” I say, standing in front of the full length window that overlooks the gardens and beyond it, the full moon hanging above the water.
I’m so angry I can’t even see the beauty below me, just as I missed the sunset on the beach earlier that evening. It’s almost eight and all I want to do is take a shower and bury myself under the covers, wishing I could rewind the whole week somehow and do things right for a change. I should have never left Nevada City. At least there, everything is predictable, from the mornings when I wake up to the smell of brewed coffee from my kitchen to the opening of the shop doors the lead out to the balcony and onto Main Street, and then straight on till evening, when I’d close up shop and then meet friends at some restaurant where everyone knew my name.
Heath doesn’t say anything right away but I know it’s coming. He stands next to me before the window, and he gazes up at the dark sky. There are a few stars, but not as much as I usually see from Nevada City, not when the full moon seems almost ablaze with light.
“Ever heard of Orion?” Heath asks.
“Orion’s belt?” I ask, though that’s as far as I know about Orion — three stars in a row in the night sky.
“Legends say he was the son of Poseidon and Euryale, daughter of the king of Minos, the King of Crete. They say because of his father, he could walk on the waves,” he says, looking at the sky, framed by the trees. “He hunted with the goddess Artemis, the great huntress — or Diana as she’s also known — and her mother Leto. One day he bragged that he could kill every animal on earth and of course, Mother Earth wasn’t happy about that. And so she sent a scorpion to sting him.”
“Did he die?”
“Of course,” Heath says, smiling ruefully. “In all versions he dies, whether it’s from the scorpion’s sting, or Diana’s arrow that never missed its mark, even when they were lovers.”
“How’d that happen?”
“That’s another legend — that her twin brother, Apollo, who was against her match with Orion, challenged her to hit a moving target in the water. If she was as great a huntress as they say, then how could she miss, he challenged her. And so she nocked her arrow against her bow and took aim at this faraway circle that was moving towards them in the waves-”
“Orion,” I exclaim, my anger dissipating. Heath has a very calm way of talking that one has to silence everything – even the mind — to listen to what he has to say.
“-and she released her arrow.” He pauses as I frown. “Like I said, she never missed.”
“And so she killed her own lover,” I say, scoffing. “That’s kinda whacked.”
“Most myths are — though he was merely a suitor then. She still held on to her vows of chastity and was considering breaking them for Orion,” Heath says, pointing to the sky above the horizon. “Anyway, it’s too soon to see it, not with all the glare from the city, but Orion’s belt — the three stars in a row — is usually what you see first. Once you spot those three stars, look up about 11 o’clock, and then you’ll see this bright star called Betelgeuse-”
“Like the movie about the afterlife?”
“No,”
he says slowly, chuckling. “It’s the armpit of the giant, because it’s a supergiant star. And above Betelgeuse — not the movie — at another 11 o’clock, is the planet Jupiter. You can’t miss it because it’s a planet, not a star, and therefore it’s very bright. But diagonally above Jupiter are the stars Castor and Pollux, representing the heads of the twins.”
“Gemini.”
“Yes, Gemini, though that name came later, after they both died and were set upon the sky as the constellation that we know now,” Heath says, finally turning to look at me. “Did you know that Castor and Pollux married sisters?”
I shake my head.
“The sisters, Phoebe and Hilairia, I think their names were, were betrothed to two other brothers. But Castor and Pollux were determined to have the sisters for themselves so they carted the women off to Sparta and each had a son with them.”
“They basically kidnapped them then.”
“Basically,” Heath says shrugging. “That’s kinda whacked, isn’t it? Just like you said. But then, most everything in history is — and life for that matter. Brothers fighting other brothers, in this case Castor and Pollux fighting Lynceus and Idas of Thebes over the sisters they had kidnapped and raped…” He pauses, his gaze intent on my face. “And then there’s us. Only this time, it’s brother against brother, and sister against sister.”
“Whacked, if you ask me,” I say, looking away from him. “But it is what it is.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest, my gaze outside the window again. We should really just open the doors and step outside, but I can feel the tension building in the air between us, reality settling back in after the respite of Greek and Roman mythology.
“Someone’s feeding Blythe lies about you and everything else, Billie,” he says, his tone turning serious.
“And how do you know that?” I scoff, turning to face him.
“Because I refuse to believe that she hates you so much and for what? For hedging your bets with the wrong brother? Surely it can’t be just that,” Heath says, his hand moving up to my face, gently tilting my chin up so I’m looking at him. “Not when I can see just how much you care for her, and just how much you’re hurt by all this.”