Pearls of the Past

by Judith Johnson

The storm of passion slowly subsided, and he looked down at her. “Well?”

  Corrie lifted herself to touch her lips to his.

  “Don’t start that again, my girl, unless you want that raving lunatic back,” he threatened, smiling. Scooping her up in his arms, he lowered them into the huge cane chair. His lips gently touched hers, then he eased her head onto his shoulder.

  “How did this happen?” Corrie asked softly.

  “Wishing and a whole lot of praying.”

  “It was only minutes ago we had just decided to be friends, and a short time before that, I disliked you.”

  “You don’t still dislike me, do you?”

  “I probably will sometimes.”

  “So I’ll have to work on the sometimes becoming never.”

  Corrie didn’t look up at him, but his voice carried a tone of satisfaction as his arms bound her even more tightly against him.

  As the irrational madness that had gripped her faded and common sense took its place, she was awfully grateful he hadn’t pressed her to answer his demanding question of, “Well?”

  Could he now regret letting his passion speak for him, as she had, since that madness had overtaken her. She was in the arms of a virtual stranger, one who had tipped her world off its safe, comfortable axis.

  “I can hear you thinking.”

  How did he know her so well? “We know nothing of each other.”

  “Then we had better find out. Now, tell me all, adorable one,” he said, laughter in his words.

  Corrie pushed herself away from his hard warmth, which her body definitely didn’t approve of doing, but her head sanctioned. “I wish you wouldn’t find this so trivial. It’s serious.”

  “How do you expect me to be anything other than on cloud-nine when you’re here with me like this? When I’ve held you the way I have with your perfume making my head spin...”

  “But I’m not wearing any perf....” The flash of green fire in his eyes made Corrie swallow the rest of her words. She wished she hadn’t spoken. She was trying so hard to take one step back from this non-understandable situation. Then all it took to make her want to throw herself back into his arms was his beautiful eyes looking at her the way they were now, devouring her, and she was once again bordering on being lost.

  “Yes, you are. Your own essence.”

  His words were so intimate that a vision of two naked, perspiration-slicked, entwined bodies appeared, making the sound of, “Oh,” little more than a gulp that left her parted lips.

  Britt’s hand rose, and the back of one finger traced her cheek in understanding to her obvious discomfort at his words.

  “What do you think this Pandora’s box contains?” he asked, changing the subject. He turned his head to look to where the chest rested, waiting for their exploration. “Are you still of the mind we shouldn’t open it?”

  Corrie shrugged. Recent events had made her totally forget the initial reason why she was in Britt’s rooms. She felt another measure of déjà vu, this one slightly off center with its warning, not about the sea chest, but what was going to happen between her and Britt. Why not accept this reasoning? It was as feasible as him declaring he knew her. And her feeling of belonging to this island, that was quite unaccountable.

  Taking a deep breath, she took hold of her rampaging emotions. “Open it. It really does look quite inoffensive. I have no idea why I acted so absurdly frightened before.”

  Watching Britt kneel on the askew Indian cotton rug, Corrie found her body tensing as the muscles she had kneaded either side of the indentation of his spine bunched under the dark green polo shirt when he reached to fit the key to the battered padlock. His cropped, golden waves, much darker as they clung to the strong nape of his neck, had the quixotic effect on her of wanting to drape her body over his and bury her face in them.

  At the loud clunk he turned his head slightly. His words saved her from the irrational action. “Do I lift the lid or do you?”

  “You,” she croaked, hoping he read her tone as anticipation, and not this frightening desire that had suddenly taken hold of her.

  He eased the curved lid open. “All is revealed. No dreaded vampire bats or the like. All is as you said—inoffensive.”

  Corrie slid from the cane chair to kneel beside him, her attention now on the contents of the once forbidding chest.

  “Hello!” His word made Corrie reel back. “One moth, or could it be a miniature vampire?” He chuckled as he reverently placed a small, long-dead, velvet body on the surface of the table, making Corrie also laugh. “That sounds better. I was beginning to think I should slam the lid.”

  “You talking of vampires made me a little nervous,” she said as she peered into the chest. “Are they diaries?”

  “Yes, and there’s a Bible,” Britt stated as he lifted three leather-bound volumes. “All locked except for this one.” He placed the unlocked, burgundy-covered diary aside and put the others back in the chest. Picking up the unlocked volume, he flipped it open. “This is Gran’s. Katharine Alice Britt, born May first, Ashfield, New South Wales.”

  “Is that why you were named Britt?”

  “Yes, haven’t I said?”

  She shook her head slightly.

  “No. There’s a lot I haven’t said, isn’t there? Still, this could reveal quite a bit.” He placed the diary on the coffee table. “Come here.” His arms were gentle as they enfolded her, and they settled back against the coffee table for Britt to let her share in his past. “She was a school teacher and an accomplished pianist, which she insisted I learn.”

  “Is that her piano in the dining room? It’s beautiful. Do you play?”

  “Occasionally. I can still remember the irreverent thought I had when she and Grandad died in the light-plane crash—I wouldn’t have to practice anymore. You must remember, I was only twelve and hated having to be inside. What a spoilt brat I must have been. I loved my Gran, she was the only mother I ever had. My mother left Da when I was two. I heard it mentioned—when I shouldn’t have been listening—that she and my father argued all the time. That she didn’t want a child. Hated giving a husband what he wants to share with his wife. Didn’t want to live here and despised what my father did for a living. She spent most of her time in Melbourne, attending lectures with her intellectual friends.”

  Britt’s voice had grown tight the more he spoke of his mother, and Corrie wanted to comfort him but wasn’t sure if he would welcome the intrusion. So she remained silent.

  After several moments of silence he rested his head on hers and asked, “You wouldn’t treat your husband like that, would you? You love this island, don’t you? You...” He hesitated, and before Corrie could find words to answer him, he continued. “Now, where were we up to? Right! Gran’s uncle was a missionary in the Torres Strait. Now that could be a redeeming point in my favor, what do you think?” His chuckle was low and throaty.

  “That’s how she came to be here and she met and married my Grandad, Peter Christiaan Hendricks. Da, my father, Andre Peter, known as Andy, met Claudia van Duyren of Melbourne at Brisbane Uni. After the wedding being called off four times they finally married in Townsville. Always a sore point, Da believing they should have been married here because this was where they intended to spend their life.”

  Would Britt expect the same commitment? What would she answer if asked to make that same decision? Well, if he remembered that she hadn’t answered him before and he asked again. Would Matt expect the same of Rusie? Matt walked in Britt’s shadow.

  “I arrived eleven months later, May sixteenth—almost forty years ago—which makes me nearing, how did you put it, a mature age? One would think all the instability of one’s character would have disappeared by now, and I thought it had. I hadn’t counted on an exquisite, ethereal, lovely lady entering my life. Just proves you never know what’s lurking around the corner, ready to jump.”

  “I didn’t jump.”

  “No, you simply slid from the car, and those lovely, long legs se
nt me into orbit and I’ve been out there somewhere ever since.”

  She knew he was going to kiss her again. Her untutored lips parted softly, waiting, wanting his mouth to mold and cling, to taste and be tasted. Her eyes closed in ecstasy at the thought. He was becoming her addiction, she acknowledged. A soft hiss of warm breath fanned her face, and her eyes fluttered open.

  “Why don’t we sail away on Lady B? Forget everything, everyone. Indulge ourselves in ourselves, never get out of bed.”

  “We’d starve to death,” she whispered.

  “But what a way to go,” he growled with frustration.

  Without warning, Matt came sauntering from Britt’s bedroom onto the balcony, dreamy-eyed, his hair ruffled. “I did knock,” he apologized. “Didn’t you hear the phone?”

  “I turned it down,” Britt rasped, clearly put out by the intrusion.

  “You should have locked the door as well.” A cheeky grin lit Matt’s face, and Corrie felt her face grow hot.

  “You wanted something?” Britt demanded.

  “Vic will be back tomorrow at lunchtime, and wait for it...he’s bringing Jacqui and their two girls to stay right here.”

  Britt swore.

  “It appears the guest rooms will be full to overflowing unless some are vacated.” Matt’s gaze slid to Corrie, who was still cushioned close to Britt’s side.

  “One already has, unless your lady still has her belongings in the room she’s supposed to be occupying. Don’t look so guilty. I explained to Corrie that Wing Lee had one less bed to make. Something both of you should have had the decency to tell her about. But you didn’t. And now that you’ve delivered Vic’s message to me, you can tell Wing Lee the good news. Also, be sure to say that Corrie will still be occupying her room.”

  Matt shrugged, grinning, eyebrows waggling.

  Britt erupted to his feet, his knee hitting the coffee table, making his Gran’s diary fall to the floor. The chest teetered then fell with a crash, spilling its contents onto the floor.

  “Understood?”

  Matt turned and practically fled, slamming the outer door behind him.

  Britt spun around to look down at her, his face an angry, cold mask, then he strode to the far end of the balcony. For several minutes his hands clenched around the railing, then he came striding back to find Corrie now standing, ready to face him.

  “I presume Jacqui is Victor’s lady? Is her being here with their children so terrible? After all, the taboo against ladies occupying the upstairs rooms has already been discarded.”

  “And you know who is responsible for that.” His hands clenched. “I don’t deny his right to expect them to be accommodated here now that the rules have changed. It’s just that Vic’s my friend, and Jacqui is selfish, demanding, and has ruined his life for anyone else. She’ll promise to stay, as she usually does, then after a few days she’ll leave and Vic will be devastated, yet again.”

  “She gave him two daughters. They are his, aren’t they?”

  “So he claims.” His words were bitter.

  “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “She’s denied him years of seeing them grow, and the sentimentalist still keeps hoping she will change her mind and marry him. Come to live here with him in the home he keeps ready with the help of an elderly aunt. But it’s not to her liking. So they stay at the motel. Apparently it was the other reason he went to Darwin. To plead with her again.”

  “Why couldn’t he go there to live? In Darwin?”

  “Why should he? This is his home. Where his work is.”

  “This is one of the times I dislike you.”

  “Tough!”

  “At last Mr. Hendricks shows his true colors. You are so...so...”

  “Chauvinistic, and don’t forget to add somewhere in there, odious and obnoxious.”

  “You... You are so...so bourgeois!”

  “You have the wrong word.”

  “I don’t care, you just are! Women aren’t allowed to have a choice, not capable of thinking for themselves. All this I have been part of has been a charade! One to ensnare then devour. And stupid, gullible me almost fell for it. Show her how gentle, how thoughtful you can be and she will swallow it. Take her to bed and she will be too ashamed to face her family and have to stay.”

  “You’re becoming irrational, Corrie. You wanted me to take you to bed. On that cotton floor rug!” He flung his arm at the crumpled mat. “Without the door being locked! Yet you were embarrassed when Matt found us almost kissing?”

  “Well, that opportunity won’t be offered again. And just how genuine is this attraction Matt has for Rusie? Believe me, if he does the wrong thing by her, I’ll find some way, some reason, to sue the pants off him. And you, for that matter. For your information, I work as a private secretary to a well-known solicitor. I know my way around.”

  “You bloody, gold-digging southerners are all the same. I knew you were too good to be true. That letter you wrote was warning enough. Just enough content to make an appointment feasible!”

  “If you once again offer to buy my airline ticket, I’ll be more than happy to accept. And I’ll be the one cheering this time,” she sniped.

  “Buy your own bloody ticket!”

  “I’ll take this.” She bent to snatch up the crystal oyster. “It’ll remind me of my escape.”

  “It was a well intended gift, it’s yours. I need no reminders to count myself lucky to be out of this one.”

  “This one? Just how many more have you been lucky to be out of?”

  “More than you could imagine, Miss Nelson.”

  “You obnoxious beast!”

  Corrie turned, the bedroom door a blur through her tears. She hated him! Hated him! She stumbled to the door and grabbed the knob, but her hand spun off it. She tried again without success, tears misshaping the brass knob.

  “You’re turning it the wrong way.” His golden hand reached past her, and her hand hit his away.

  A crash sounded on the parquetry floor, and she realized the crystal oyster had slipped from her hand. It now lay in two halves, and the cream pearl rolled away toward a carved, high-standing chest. A harsh sob left Corrie as she looked at the broken crystal laying at her feet. She lifted a tear-washed, pain-stricken face to the man towering over her.

  “Corrie,” he groaned.

  A wail left her lips and she flung herself at him, his arms crushing her to his shaking body. Sobs ravaged her as he gathered her even closer, her name chanted over and over, along with words begging her forgiveness.

  “Don’t let us ever do that again,” Britt pleaded. “It’s been the worst experience of my life.”

  Corrie was continually nodding her head, unable to speak between the most debilitating sobbing she had ever experienced. She was lifted and carried to his bed to be gently gathered close once again, her wet cheeks hidden in his strong, bronzed throat.

  Time was of no importance as they lay together. As her sobbing lessened, a feeling of utter contentment slowly grew until she was filled with untold happiness, a happiness that was due entirely to being in Britt’s arms. She snuggled closer, and a soft laugh shook his wide chest.

  “I hope that means I’m truly forgiven.” He pulled back slightly, and Corrie lifted her head to smile up at him. “Before this goes any further, what I said about me having more affairs than you could count, it was anger and male pride speaking.”

  “Ssshh, it’s all right. We both said far too much. Like we usually do.”

  “It’s not all right, Corrie. We need to square things away between us, right now. Of course I’ve taken women to bed. I’ve had two affairs. One when I was twenty with a young lady from Adelaide. I met her in Portofino when Vic and I sailed around the world in Lady B. After we returned home she came here to visit, but the magic had been left in Italy. She was rather impressed by the size of my father’s business and also tried her womanly wiles on him only to be rebuffed. She then bought one of our pearl rings and claimed she was engaged to
me. My father paid her off. I had never mentioned marriage. I never have, to anyone.”

  Corrie wasn’t aware her face had shown some disbelief, but it must have, for his next words proved it.

  “Never, until I asked you. Something I shall never regret, even if you say no.”

  When she went to speak his lips stopped her with a gentle kiss.

  “Let me finish. The other affair, I put an end to when I was in Brisbane on two weeks leave, the day your letter arrived here, apparently. There was never any question of it being more than a convenient arrangement for both of us, and it could have continued for years, but I had this feeling I needed to be free of commitment, and Isabelle agreed. I met her six years ago. She had already been divorced twice, and she’s quite wealthy and values her personal freedom.”

  “What did Vic say about the first one?”

  “Couldn’t stand her, and told me so and warned me. Then minded his own business.”

  “Did you warn him off Jacqui?” It was a soft query, because she wasn’t entirely sure she should ask.

  “Not at first. Even when she refused to come here so he could look after her when she fell pregnant, I said nothing. But when it happened again and still she refused to make this her home, I voiced the opinion that it was probably for the best. He punched me in the mouth.”

  “And so he should! How could you say that to him?”

  “Arrogance, and no idea of what truly loving a woman could mean. Also business pressure, and the responsibility of being a father to a teenage boy, Matt. You see, my father tried to rescue Matt’s father as they fought a hotel fire. They both were killed. I took Matt home with me. I was twenty-four and Matt nine, and I was suddenly the boss.”

  “Oh, Britt.” All of Corrie’s compassion surfaced. “You’ve had such a sad life, and I dared to stand in judgment when I’ve had a life of being fussed over and full of love.”

  “But not the love I can give you. Not the mind-blowing love we can share.” Britt leaned over her, his eyes blazing with passion. “I love you, Corrie. Will you have me for your husband?”

  “Yes,” she said, the word little more than a whisper. His actual asking again had happened so quickly, but now that it was settled Corrie had a feeling of freedom. The restrictive lines of behavior that she had set for herself disappeared. By saying yes she had made her commitment, belonged to him, her Nordic giant with beautiful sea-green eyes, and she wanted to feel his possession, total and complete. “Lock the door, Britt.”