“Will you be all right?” He set the candelabra down. “The storm seems to be getting worse. You won’t be frightened?”
“No,” she said. “I won’t be frightened.”
“Well then...” But still he hesitated. “Let me stay with you tonight, Annabel.”
“No.” Her voice was cold, unrelenting. “No.”
“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I just want to be with you. Too...” A blast of wind hit the house, and with a terrible bang and a swoosh of air, the balcony doors flew open. The candles flickered and went out, rain swept into the room.
He grabbed the doors and, fighting the terrible blast of the wind, managed to close them. “Give me something to tie them with,” he said. “A scarf, anything.”
She ran to the dresser, tried in the dark to find a scarf and, when she couldn’t, fumbled for a pair of panty hose and hurried across the room to hand them to him.
“Lean against the door,” he said, and when she did, he bound the door handles together. “That should hold.” He stepped away. “But you’d better spend the night in my room.”
“No, I’ll...I’ll be all right here now that you’ve fixed the doors.” She turned away too quickly and because of the darkness stumbled over the end of the chaise and fell.
“What happened?” He reached down to help her up. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I just ... I forgot the chaise was there.”
“I’ll light the candles.” But still he stood, holding her, not wanting to let her go.
The only sound was the slash of rain against the house, the crash of thunder, the only light a flash of orange lightning. And in that light he saw her face, the eyes wide and a little frightened, lips parted as if about to speak.
He said, “Annabel,” and then he kissed her. Kissed her with all the longing of days past, of sorrow and of need.
And though she stiffened in his arms, though she whispered, “Let me go,” he could not.
“Stay with me,” he said. “Not just for tonight, Annabel, but for always. Be my wife again, love me again.”
“I won’t! I can’t! Let me—”
He smothered her words with his mouth. He tightened his arms around her and held her so close he could feel the frantic beating of her heart. He pressed one hand against the small of her back to bring her closer, and knew she felt the heat of his desire.
“Please,” she whispered. “No, Luis. Let me...” But her mouth softened under his, her lips trembled against his.
“Oh, love,” he said. “Oh, love.”
She couldn’t do this. She told herself she wouldn’t do this. She felt the edge of the chaise against the back of her legs. He eased her back until she fell against the chaise. And when she did, he came over her and held her there. He kissed her again, kissed her until she couldn’t think.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “Always and forever. That hasn’t changed. It will never change. I’ll give you a baby, as many babies as you want —”
“No!” She thrust him away from her. “No,” she said, her voice breaking. “Just...just leave me alone.”
He fell back against the chaise, breathing hard, willing his passion to ebb.
Annabel stood and felt her way to the dresser. He heard her fumble for matches, heard a scratch and saw the flickering flame as she lighted one of the candles.
He stood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I apologize for forcing myself on you. It won’t happen again.” He took one of the candles and crossed the room to the connecting door. He paused there and, turning back, said, “As soon as the storm passes I’ll try to arrange for a plane. If one isn’t available I’ll let Samuel take you to Nassau on the boat.”
Annabel didn’t answer. She stood by the dresser until he went out and closed the door. For a long time she didn’t move from where she was, but finally, with a smothered sob, she went back to the bed, to lie facedown and cry for a love that had been and was no more.
The storm grew worse. Wind blew against the house, rain beat against the windows and rattled the doors Luis had tied with her panty hose.
She blew out the bedside candle and tried to sleep, to block everything from her mind except the need for rest. And finally, burying her face into the soft down pillow, she did.
To dream. A strangely vivid dream of a storm at sea. And a boat, no, not a boat, a sailing ship. A sailing ship battling its way through thirty-foot waves, plunging up on a high crest, then down again, all but swallowed up by the turbulent water, until like a broken toy boat it struggled up again. Only to plunge down. Down...
“Get back to the cabin,” he cried.
“I want to be with you.”
“It is too dangerous. You must go below.”
“Will the ship survive?” she screamed above the roar of wind. “Will we?” And when he did not answer she fought her way to him, staggering from stanchion to stanchion, almost hurled into the sea with the slanting of the deck and the terrible force of the wind, until at last she stood at his side.
He pulled her closer. “Will you not do what I say?”
“I will not leave you.”
He put her against the wheel in front of him and held her there, trying to shelter her with his body. “You should not have come with me.”
“This is where I want to be, at your side in this moment of danger.” She saw the wave then, bigger than the other waves, surely as high as the great church of Cádiz. And knew this was the end.
He clasped her in his arms. “Oh, my love!” he cried.
The boat tilted beneath their feet. They slid across the deck, holding on to each other. Water closed over their heads and they went down, down into the dark depths of the sea.
“Alejandro! Alejandro! Alejan—”
His arms were around her, holding her. His mouth pressed to her mouth. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t...
Breathe.
Annabel came awake with a start. She was clutching the pillow over her face, uncertain for a moment where she was or who she was.
She thrust the pillow away and lay there, her heart beating hard against her breast, the words, “Alejandro! Alejandro!” screaming in her brain.
The rain still beat hard against the windows. She threw back the sheet and reached for the matches and the candle beside her bed. Her hands were steady when she lighted the candle. She got up, and as though she were a sleepwalker, not bothering with a robe or slippers, wearing only her long white nightgown, opened the door of her room and went out and down the long dark corridor to the library.
Thunder rumbled and lightning snaked in from a window that hadn’t been boarded up. But she wasn’t afraid, not of the thunder or the lightning, not of the wind.
She went into the library. It was very dark with only the candle to light her way. She felt her way past the black leather sofa, the two easy chairs and the desk. Her picture was still there, the picture Luis had taken of her at the Cibeles Fountain in Madrid.
She raised the candle and looked up at Alejandro de Alarcon. He looked down at her, looked at her with Luis’s eyes and solemn mien.
She turned to the portrait of his wife, his darling Maria de Castilla, so delicately beautiful in her pink dress with the soft flowing lines, one hand touching her necklace. From Maria’s letters she knew that Alejandro had given her the gold necklace set with rubies on their tenth wedding anniversary.
Love is a rare and precious gift.
She trembled. Were the words spoken or imagined? Why did they echo in her mind?
Love is eternal... eternal.
Tears filled Annabel’s eyes, tears for their lost love, and for her own. Alejandro and Maria had been gone these many years, but she and Luis were alive. And if they loved... Oh yes, she thought, we love. Then how could she turn and walk away from him? How could she let the past stop them from having a future?
She had grown and changed and so had Luis. They had been given a second chance. Could she walk away from him?
; “Annabel?”
She turned, frightened for a moment by the reality of the voice. Luis’s voice.
“What are you doing here?”
“I...I don’t know. I had a dream. About them. About when the ship went down.”
She shivered and he said, “Where is your robe?”
She shook her head as though not understanding. “I had to see them,” she said.
He took the candle from her and put it next to his on the desk. “You’re cold. Let me warm you.”
She looked at him, then up at the portrait of Maria. “Yes,” she said. “Warm me.”
He put his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head and held her as together they looked up at the portraits of the captain and his wife.
“He loved her so,” Annabel whispered.
“As she loved him.” Luis put a finger under her chin so that she would look at him instead of Alejandro. “As I love you,” he said. “As I loved you from the first moment I saw you, I love you now.”
He kissed her. She did not respond, nor did she try to move out of his embrace.
“I’m sorry I deceived you when I brought you here again. But I had to. You didn’t remember the unhappy years, or me, or the marriage. Fate had given me a second chance and I couldn’t let it go- You were here on our island. I thought I could teach you to love me again.”
Annabel looked up at him. “I never really stopped loving you, Luis. I tried to, but the memory of you wouldn’t go away.” She touched his face. “I won’t leave you,” she said. “I’ll never leave you now.”
She did not know why it was so, she only knew that it was. She loved Luis, she would never leave him.
He kissed her, and when her lips parted under his, he carried her to the black leather sofa and gently laid her down. “Let me warm you,” he said.
They lay in each other’s arms. He took off the white gown, and in the flickering light of the candles her body was like pale ivory. He kissed her mouth, her throat, and feathered soft kisses across her breasts.
She held him there, caressing his bare shoulders, lacing her fingers through the thickness of his hair. Her love, her life, her lust. Luis. Forever, Luis.
He buried his head between her breasts. “Never leave me,” he whispered.
“I never will,” she said.
He moved up over her then and joined his body to hers in the act of love.
“Yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.” And felt him move deep inside her, so deep inside it seemed he touched her very soul. For this was a joining of love. She knew that now as she lifted her body to his and held him as he held her.
“Oh, love,” he said. “Mi querida, mi Anna para siempre.”
“Yes,” she said, “para siempre.”
He moved with exquisite slowness, melding his body to hers, making them one. He kissed her lips, he kissed her breasts, and when she whispered her pleasure, he felt tears sting his eyes because she loved this, and him. His Annabel Lee, his darling, his darling, his wife and his bride.
He moved more quickly now, lost in an ecstasy of feeling. She took his face between her hands and looked up at him with love-filled eyes.
“Yes, my darling,” she whispered. “Yes, now.” She kissed him then, she gave him her cry then, and held him while his big body thundered over hers and he answered her cry with his own.
They held each other close and whispered how good this was, how incredibly right. He smoothed the tumbled hair back from her face, she stroked his back. When the air grew chilled, he covered them both with her gown.
They did not leave, but stayed as they were. And when it began again they loved again, and finally, at peace, went to sleep in each other’s arms.
They awoke to silence. “The storm has passed,” he said.
She sat up, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and found herself looking up at the portraits of Alejandro and the beautiful Maria de Castilla.
It seemed to her as she gazed up at them that there was in their expressions something she had not seen before. It was as though... She tilted her head, puzzled. It was as though they, too, were at peace. As though, in a way she could not define, everything had come full circle. She knew then that love, enduring and everlasting love, does not die. It continues on, generation after generation, seed of seed. Forever.
Luis took her hand to help her up. “I love you,” she said.
He drew her close and together they looked up at the portraits. “We’ll find his ship,” he said. “Someday we’ll find it.”
“Yes,” she said. And kissed him.
Two months later they left San Sebastián. Straight On till Morning, repaired and freshly painted, had been outfitted with enough fuel, food supplies and water to last until they reached Eleuthera.
Samuel cast off the mooring ropes, the sails were up and the wind was good. Annabel stood at the wheel next to Luis. A young black dog who looked suspiciously like Rob staggered across the deck trying to get his sea legs. He barked at a pelican and Annabel laughed.
They headed for the breakers and then they were past them, out on the open sea with the wind billowing the sails and the tangy smell of salt in the air.
It was good to be at sea again, to have Annabel beside him looking so tanned and beautiful, so happy.
“I called Eleuthera this morning before we left.” Luis gestured for her to come closer, and when she did he put an arm around her. “I talked to the minister there. He’ll marry us as soon as we arrive.”
She held up her left hand. “I need a ring,” she said.
“I’ll find you one.”
“Find me one? What’s the matter with buying one?”
“I will, a plain gold band for the wedding ring. But for an engagement ring...” He smiled. “I’ll bring one up from the sea for you.”
“When we find the Cantamar.”
“Yes.” He pulled her to him and kissed her so hard she let out an involuntary cry. When she did, Young Rob bounded across the deck straight at Luis, barking and showing his teeth.
“Damn,” Luis said with a grin. “This one’s your dog, too.”
Annabel laughed, then she kissed Luis and said to the dog, “It’s all right, fella. He’s going to make an honest woman of me.”
They stood there together, facing into the wind, the man at the wheel and the woman beside him. Just as long ago another woman had stood beside her man.
There would be no storm on this trip. The winds were fair, the skies were clear. And they were together, straight on till morning.
Epilogue
Madrid, Spain
Two years later
They stood at the top of the red-carpeted stairway. She wore the blue sequined gown she had bought in Paris the week before. Her blond hair had been pulled back from her face into a fashionable chignon.
“Señor and Señora Alarcon.” The maître d’ hurried over. “Your table is ready. Please come this way.”
Luis took her arm as they started down the stairway. “You look absolutely radiant tonight,” he said.
She smiled. “Because I have a secret.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Care to tell me?”
“Later,” she said, and smiled again.
People around them turned to stare when they passed by the tables. The orchestra began to play Agustín Lara’s “Madrid,” and when they were seated, a white-jacketed waiter appeared to take their order.
“Champagne,” Luis said.
“And mineral water,” Annabel added.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked when they were alone.
“Later perhaps.”
The waiter brought the champagne in a silver bucket. The cork popped when he opened the bottle. “I’ll pour,” Luis said.
But when he started to fill Annabel’s glass, she said, “I’ll just have the mineral water, thank you.”
“Is anything wrong? Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I feel fine.” She touched the necklace at her throat. It felt warm against her
skin, almost as if it held a life of its own. Candlelight glittered on the rubies set in the old gold.
“Her necklace looks lovely on you,” Luis said.
“Yes.” She touched it again, then reached for Luis’s hand. “We’ve been in Europe for almost five months,” she said. “It’s time to go home.”
“I thought we’d stay for the April fair in Sevilla.”
Annabel shook her head. “I want to go home,” she said.
“Then we will. I’ll make the reservations tomorrow.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she assured him. “It’s just a touch of pregnancy.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad it’s not anything...” He froze, his eyes wide, startled. “Pregnancy? You’re pregnant?”
“Two months.” She took a sip of her mineral water. “I hope you’re pleased.”
He stared at her, eyes wide with shock. And turned away.
She went cold. Oh, no, she thought. Oh, no. She touched his arm. “What is it?” she whispered. “Aren’t you pleased?”
He looked at her then and she saw the tears in his eyes. Before she could speak, he stood and went around to her side of the table. He knelt there and put his arms around her.
“Annabel,” he said. “Oh, Annabel.”
He kissed her then, and when at last he rose, he saw that the people at the tables around them had grown silent. He reached for his glass and, raising it, said, “We’re going to have a baby.”
For a moment there was only startled silence. Then a woman smiled and a man said, “Felicidades!” Others joined in. Glasses were raised, a few bravos called out.
Luis took Annabel’s hand. “Come and dance with me now,” he said. “I want to hold you.”
He took her hand and led her to where the orchestra. played. They danced to the music of a Spanish waltz and held each other close.
“If it’s a boy...” he started to say.
“We’ll name him Alejandro,” she finished.
“And if it’s a girl she’ll be Maria. Maria Annabel.”
He kissed her cheek and she thought of how it would be when their baby came. And how, after all, life really had come full circle.
Long-Lost Wife? Page 19