TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy)

by Sydney Jamesson

The picture-postcard view across the harbour holds my attention and it takes a gentle squeeze from Ayden’s hand across the table to remind me that this is real, I am here and …

  “You’re lost in thought,” he remarks. “Anything you want to share?”

  “Since when did you need my permission to know what I’m thinking?” I ask, made bold by the wine.

  He gives my hand another squeeze. “Since you learned how to shut me out.”

  I laugh to conceal my embarrassment. “I didn’t know I could do that.”

  He reaches for his wallet. “You can do many things, my darling, most of which you’re blissfully unaware of.” He signals for the waiter to bring the bill.

  “Really? Like what?” I rest my chin on my right palm and wait, wide-eyed, to hear more.

  “Let’s pay the bill, return home and discuss this further,” he says, smiling seductively at the prospect of us being alone. I reach into my clutch for lip-gloss and take out my camera. The waiter offers to take our photo and we gaze into the camera, but the harbour is a blur behind us.

  Standing outside the restaurant, I have the waiter taking several shots of us with the iconic backdrop. I take a couple of snaps myself and Ayden pulls me close for the classic arm-outstretched shot I have come to love. All I can do is take one last look, wrap myself around him and close my eyes.

  “Let’s go home.”

  ***

  Mackenzie Bowker has spent the best part of a week investigating a road traffic accident and he has a heap of information to write up, but before he does, he has scheduled a meeting with his superior officer, Chief Inspector Malcom Royle. They have been colleagues and friends for nearly twenty years, and there has always been a bond of trust between them. Mack will not be happy until he has discovered every detail of the crash. and if that means unearthing secrets that have remained buried for decades so be it.

  He straightens his tie and enters the Chief’s office. It’s located on the sunny side of the building and the Chief is little more than a silhouette sitting behind a desk in a high backed chair. Mack doesn’t wait to be asked to sit, he simply drops into a chair and begins …

  “How’s the wife Malc, is she still breeding Shih Tzus?”

  “Course she is! Obsessed with the little buggers. We’ve had an extension built to keep them out of the bloody house,” the Chief replies, shaking his head.

  “Could be worse. They could be Great Danes.” Mack laughs at his own joke.

  “I suppose so.” He laughs and leans forward. “So are we going to talk about dogs or is there something more important you’d like to discuss? Word is you’ve been putting in some hours with this Richards case.”

  “Yeah. It’s had more twists and turns than Brands Hatch.” He takes out his notebook.

  The Chief is chuckling. “Don’t tell me you’re still using bloody notebooks! What happened to your iPad?”

  “I couldn’t be bothered with all that finger pointing. By the time I’d set it up I’d forgotten what I wanted to write. These books have everything I need in them.” He licks his thumb and turns back to the start of his investigation.

  “OK, let’s have it!”

  Mack clears his throat, readying himself for what he knows will be a long winded explanation. “Well, I became curious when I discovered Miss. Richards was connected to Dan Rizler. Remember … that guy who attacked Mrs. Stone in the school …”

  The chief nods and purses his lips unsure of what’s coming next.

  “Turns out Mr. Stone, who was driving the car, had known both his wife and Miss. Richards for a couple of decades, and he …”

  The chief holds up his right hand. “Hold on. I thought forensics and the crash investigators had proven she tried to kill them both. She had a knife and she took the wheel …”

  “Yes, she did but …”

  “So why the fuck are you dragging Ayden Stone into this? He’s the victim, right?”

  Mack is surprised by the adjustment in his demeanour. “Yes … but …”

  “There’s no ‘but’s’ about it. Have you found out anything to suggest that anyone other than two dead, crazy bastards were responsible for bringing about their own deaths?”

  Mack backs off. “No.”

  “Then the job’s finished. No harm done. Mrs. Stone lives to fight another day, and Ayden Stone gets to keep his throne and remain king of the castle.”

  What?

  Mack sits back in his chair, dumbstruck, sucker punched by police politics. He folds over the front cover of his note book and arranges his thoughts. “So, I’m done. We can all rest safe in our beds at night knowing they’re both six feet under. The fact that Elise Richards was repeatedly raped as a child, and Rizler attacked and probably assaulted untold numbers of female students is no concern of mine, right?”

  “I didn’t say that, Mack.” He takes a breath. “Look, there are people who would rather this whole thing just went away. You know what I mean?”

  Nodding listlessly, Mack stands and turns to leave. He takes hold of the door handle, but stops before he turns it, spinning around to face the Chief. “The Elise Richards’s of this world are still out there. No one is reading them bedtime stories. Someone recently told me that the real monsters are out there. Looks like there’s one in here, too.”

  Throwing the door wide open he leaves, making his way down the corridor and back to his corner office on the sunless side of the building, feeling dispirited and deflated. He calls out insolently, “See you around, Sir.”

  ***

  In the blink of an eye we’re back at our temporary home on our island paradise. I open my eyes to see scented tea lights arranged around the decking area and a fancy bottle of something expensive-looking chilling in an ice bucket. It couldn’t be more romantic.

  “Did you arrange this?” I ask, standing to one side, looking out to sea.

  “Yes. I instructed the staff to have everything ready for our return. It’s our last night here and I wanted it to be … unforgettable.” He sniggers, remembering my disapproval of the word. “But I still have a couple of things up my sleeve.”

  I take hold of his hand. “I’m not sure I can take much more tonight. I’m suffering from surprise overload.”

  “Then perhaps you should sit down … but before you do, let me look at you.” He edges away from me to the sofa, removing his jacket and tossing it to one side. He reaches for his shoes and unties the laces, removes his socks and places them together to the left of the chair. Unselfconsciously, he spreads himself out, adopting a familiar pose; arms stretched out across the cushions and his right leg crossed over his left knee. I don’t think he has ever looked more handsome.

  “Ayden …”

  “Just stand, Beth. Please …”

  I do, unsure of what to do with my hands or how to position my feet. He rotates his finger on his right hand indicating I should turn around. I’m smiling, feeling a little self-conscious but taking great delight in the pleasure he’s experiencing by simply looking at me. Adoration is a powerful aphrodisiac.

  “Seen enough?” I enquire, realising I have my thumb nail in my mouth. “I’m getting a backache standing here in these heels.”

  He smirks. ”Wait one moment. There’s something missing.”

  I look down at my dress; then, as I raise my head, I feel something tumbling gentle down from above. From somewhere up in the clouds red rose petals are falling, caressing my bare shoulders, fluttering over my nose, and gathering at my feet until I’m standing in a circle of of them. I turn my face skyward, enjoying the scented veil of nature’s bounty as it covers my face and hair.

  On hearing Ayden’s voice I turn to face him.

  “O my Luve is like a red, red rose

  That’s newly sprung in June;

  O my Luve is like the melody

  That’s sweetly played in tune.

  So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

  So deep in luve am I;

  And I will luve thee still, my dear,
/>   Till a’ the seas gang dry.

  Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

  And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

  I will love thee still, my dear,

  While the sands o’ life shall run.

  And fare thee weel, my only luve!

  And fare thee weel awhile!

  And I will come again, my luve,

  Though it were ten thousand mile.”

  All I can do is applaud. “That’s one hell of a trick,” I announce, taking his hand and stepping clear of the scattering circle of red. “Robert Burns captured the moment beautifully. Thank you for reciting it.”

  “My pleasure. Take off your shoes.”

  I kick them off and stand next to him, significantly shorter. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see…”

  And I do. On the beach is a four poster bed with white voile curtains tied back at the corners. “Wow! When did that arrive?” I ask, lifting my dress with my free hand.

  “I had the staff bring it down to the beach while we were at the theatre. I could have … arranged it but it would have caused a few unwanted questions. Shall we go and get comfortable?”

  “Yes. I’d like that.”

  The sand has still retained some of the day’s heat and it’s soft between my toes. When we reach the bed I notice a glass hurricane jar with a scented pillar candle and an ice bucket waiting for us at the base. Inside is a large bottle of Perrier, sitting beside two crystal tumblers.

  I can’t conceal my surprise. “What! No champagne?” I ask, crawling up on the bed.

  “I think we’ve had enough, don’t you? And, besides, you’ll need a clear head to appreciate what I have to say.” He smirks, leaving me in no doubt about that.

  I make myself comfortable on the bed; my head nestles into the soft pillow; the fingers of my left hand are entwined with Ayden’s. “What a wonderful surprise, Ayden. I’ve never seen so many stars.” I stare up at the millions of pinpricks twinkling like sequins on a gown.

  “You’re not alone in that respect. Most people’s lives at so cluttered with light and self-absorption, they seldom look up.”

  I give his hand a squeeze. “Most people could never afford to come to a place like this.”

  “This is true. But this sky is not the property of the rich and famous, it’s a universal. One has only to look up to see it.”

  I snigger at the simplicity of his answer. “In that case I must have been too self-absorbed to look up and see it, just like everyone else.”

  He’s smiling and shaking his head. “You were no such thing, darling. You were too busy looking down, hiding yourself away. That’s an entirely different matter.”

  “I suppose so but I’ve seen it now, thanks to you. Which star are you, by the way?” I ask playfully.”

  “Always the brightest one right above your head, of course,” he says plainly.

  ”In that case, I’ll make a point of looking up.”

  “Then this has been a worthwhile journey,” he chortles. “What is it you say? Your future is written in the stars?”

  I’m nodding. “Yes, … but wasn’t it Shakespeare who said, ‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves’?”

  He snickers at my suggestion. “Perhaps … our futures might already be taking shape up there. Who knows?”

  He pulls me to him and I place my hand on his chest, feeling its heat against my palm. “I think you do,” I whisper.

  “In that case, why don’t you wish upon a star, the way you used to when you were a child?”

  What?

  I raise my chin to watch him speak. “How do you know I did that?” I ask curiously.

  “Because I watched you.”

  “When I was a child?”

  “Yes.”

  I feel my brows elevating. “All the time?”

  He leans up to kiss my forehead. “Of course not. I was drawn to your sadness and there were moments when you were understandably distressed. It aggrieved me that I couldn’t comfort you.” His hand tightens on my shoulder.

  “I had my family around me in the early days but they left me, one after the other.” Just saying those words causes my throat to constrict.

  “They did nothing of the sort, Beth. Your grandmother was elderly; she had a good life.”

  “And my mother?”

  He takes a thoughtful breath. “Your mother was terminally ill, darling. Even I couldn’t help her.”

  Help her?

  I sit up, place my forearm on his chest and face him wide-eyed like an animal caught in a searchlight. “You knew my mother?”

  “I did. Our paths crossed on several occasions. I was taken with her bravery and moved by her determination to hold on as long as she could – for you.”

  I cover my trembling lips with my hand.

  “I’m sorry, Beth. I didn’t intend to upset you.” He enfolds me in his arms, keeping the night air out and my sense of unimaginable loss inside. “You can cry. Don’t feel you have to be brave on my behalf.” He buries his lips in my hair. “Losing a loved one is a terrible thing. Losing a mother must be unspeakably painful.”

  I sit up, wipe away my tears with a napkin and turn to him. “What did she say to you?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  I nod in reply and focus on his handsome face.

  “Alright then, but, as you know she wasn’t completely lucid at the end; morphine is a powerful analgesic. In the week before her passing we talked several times.”

  My eyes widen. ”You did? What did you talk about?” I wipe my nose and sit up on my knees, rapt.

  “About you. Her wish for you, her love for you and …”

  “And …”

  “And the promise she asked me to make to watch over you.” He cups my face in his hand. “I could have done so much more but …”

  I pull his palm to my lips. “You did enough. I’m alive aren’t I? There were times I thought I would die and it was only your intervention that kept me alive. I’m sure of that.”

  I press my full weight onto his pectorals and cover his lips with mine. “Thank you. You kept your promise.”

  His kisses me lovingly, but there is little passion. I pull back.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t explain further without giving you something.” He reaches into his trouser pocket. “You must close your eyes. Think of your mother and make a silent wish, and only then, open your eyes.” He holds my attention with an unwavering stare.

  “Alright, but I don’t need …”

  He places a finger over my lips. “Wish, my darling.”

  I close my eyes and do exactly that. I wish for my mother to be happy wherever she is; to have found my father and to be proud of me and … there is one other thing.

  I open my eyes slowly, not knowing what to expect. He is sitting bolt upright. His left hand rests on my bare shoulder and his other is turned upright into a closed fist. I gaze into his eyes and see a softness there that comforts me.

  “Did you wish?” he asks in a half whisper.

  I smile. “Yes. I wished.”

  “Open my hand.” He directs me to his right hand, now resting on my knees.

  As I peel back his fingers, I feel a kind of giddy excitement. I’ve had gifts before but I suspect this will be the gift to outdo everything else. I’m expecting a piece of heaven or a falling star but what I see is much more precious.

  “Oh! Ayden!” I cry, recognising it instantly. “It’s my mother’s engagement ring. Where on earth did you find it?” Scarcely believing my eyes, I hold it up to the light. It is worth so little in actual money compared to my other jewellery but that doesn’t detract from its exquisite beauty. “Thank you. It’s what I wished for.” I place it on my finger and throw my arms around his neck, peppering his cheeks and chin with kisses. “You’re so wonderful.”

  He’s grinning and trying to hold me off. “No. You have it all wrong. You have no idea just how wonderful you
are.” He takes hold of my face in his palms to make the point. “I want to give you everything.”

  I caress his face and brush a curl from his forehead. “You do, Ayden.”

  I settle onto his chest and hold up my right hand still disbelieving I have my mother’s ring on my finger. Feeling curious, I ask, “Can I ask you where you found it?”

  “It was concealed in Mr. Rizler’s bag. I simply relieved him of it so it could be returned to its rightful owner.”

  “Well, thank you. It makes me so happy to see it on my finger. I think my mum will be smiling down on us.”

  “I think so too. Now let me pour you a celebratory drink and we’ll prepare for the show.” He reaches for the Perrier, turning the bottle around to face me. “I believe it’s a very good year. Would Madame care to taste it first?”

  He’s arching his brow, making me giggle. “No thanks. I’ve had that vintage before. Just pour.”

  “Very well.” We raise our glasses.

  “To unforgettable nights.”

  “Absolutely! I’ll drink to that.”

  Still overjoyed, I sip my water, finding it really refreshing after the earlier wine with our meal. Picking up on his declaration I ask, “What show? Surely we’re not going back to Sydney?”

  “Not tonight. The show is about to begin. I think we should take our seats.”

  I look around, unable to see further than a couple of feet from the bed. “What seats?”

  “Right here.” He takes my glass and pats the bed suggestively.

  I have no idea what’s coming next so settle myself.

  “Lean back,” he says, pointing at the pillow and look up.

  “What am I looking for, exactly?” I ask, scanning the sky for U.F.O’s

  “You’ll know it when you see it.”

  Like a prowling cat he crawls up the bed and positions himself next to me. He takes my left hand and presses my knuckles against his lips. “See anything?”

  “Nope.” Just then I spot a shooting star. “Did you see that? I snatch my hand from his mouth and point to the west. “Over there! I think it was a shooting star!”

  He seems disinterested and folds his hands behind his head. When I look again, his eyes are closed and his mouth is shaped into a sexy, ‘I know something you don’t know’ kind of smile.