Heaven Sent

by Rochelle Alers

  When he had reluctantly left his world of music behind and assumed control of ColeDiz International, Ltd., David found, much to his chagrin, that he took to business like a duck to water. It was less than a year after he’d become CEO that he realized that he was a much more astute businessman than a natural musician. Music was a passion he worked hard at, while business came naturally. What he wanted to do was conclude the sale of the banana plantation and return to the States.

  He did not know why, but when he left Costa Rica he did not want to leave Serena Morris behind. He wanted her to return with him.

  She assisted him as he washed his face and brushed his teeth. It frustrated him that he was unable to perform the mundane tasks of maintaining the most basic of hygienic functions without help. His head throbbed painfully as he hobbled back to the bedroom and fell across the bed, wondering how long it would take before the pain vanished, along with the accompanying weakness.

  Serena observed David’s closed eyes and clenched teeth. He was putting up a brave front while suffering silently in pain. She realized whoever had assaulted him probably intended serious injury, or death. But who, she wondered, wanted him dead? And for what reason?

  “I’ll bring you something to eat,” she informed him softly. Giving him a lingering stare, she turned and walked out of the room.

  The dull pain that radiated along the left side of his face would not permit him to nod or speak. He did not want anything to eat. What he wanted was for the pain to go away—for good.

  Serena walked through the narrow hallway at the rear of the house that led to the kitchen. Instinctively she utilized the rear of the house to gain access to the kitchen. She realized it was something she and Gabriel did as children on many occasions. When their parents entertained guests in the living room or formal dining room, they had sometimes left their beds and cajoled Luz Maria into giving them samples of the fancy concoctions she had prepared for the elegantly attired visitors.

  There were times when she’d spent more time with Luz Maria than she had with her own mother. She loved the fragrant aromas wafting from the large pots on the massive stove and broiling meat in the oven. The cook taught her to bake her own bread, cure meats, and prepare a dish of perfectly steamed white rice whose grains shimmered with the olive oil used during its cooking process.

  Built-in shelves along the kitchen walls claimed jars filled with dried herbs and spices grown in La Montaña’s greenhouse. Luz Maria had been given her own section in the structure where she carefully tended the medicinal plants she used to counteract fever, pain, boils, and a plethora of infections and ailments.

  Luz Maria Hernando glanced up when Serena walked into the kitchen. Her dark gaze softened as she studied the woman she’d watched flower into a natural beauty. Since she hadn’t married or had children, she’d secretly claimed Serena as her own. And the younger woman could have been her daughter because there was a marked resemblance between them: similar coloring and curly hair. At fifty-two, Luz Maria was ten pounds heavier than she had been at twenty-two, yet her body retained a slender firmness that still turned many a male head.

  “¡Buenos días!, Doña Maria.”

  “¡Buenos días!, Princesa. How is your guest?” she continued in English.

  “He’s better, but still in some pain.”

  “A lot of pain?”

  Serena shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe it comes and goes.”

  Luz Maria smiled. “I’ll fix him a different tea. It will take away the pain and not make him sleep so much.”

  Serena watched as the cook walked over to a shelf and selected a jar with a length of yellow yarn tied around its neck. She smiled. Luz Maria had chosen to identify her herbs with colored yarn.

  Sitting down on a tall stool near the thick, mahogany table, she studied Luz Maria as she spilled the contents of the jar onto the table and counted out four leaves. Crushing the leaves with her fingertips, she placed them in a small piece of cheesecloth, tied it with a length of thin, white cord, and put the bundle in a large ceramic mug. Ladling hot water from a large, simmering pot on the stove, she poured it over the cheesecloth, permitting the leaves to steep.

  “He is young?” Luz Maria asked without taking her gaze from the steaming cup.

  Serena smiled, studying the dark head streaked with shimmering strands of silver. “Yes, Doña Maria, he is young.”

  Luz Maria glanced up, smiling. “He is married?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. Seeing the knowing smile curving the cook’s mouth, Serena leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Shifting an eyebrow, Luz Maria stopped smiling, and her expression grew serious. “Do you really want to know, Chica?” she questioned, using her stepfather’s term of endearment. “Do you really want to know what’s in your future?”

  There were rumors that Luz Maria Hernando could tell one’s future, but Serena had always shied away from such superstition. She felt knowing one’s future could not prevent whatever was destined to happen.

  Shaking her head, she said, “No.”

  “I’ll respect your wishes, but one thing I’ll say is that the young man you’re taking care of will be a part of your future.”

  A rush of blood heated her face. She did not want David Cole in her life. The fact was that she did not want any man in her life—now or in the future.

  “What about Gabriel? What is going to happen to him?” Her scathing tone mirrored her fear and frustration for her brother.

  Luz Maria’s smooth, dusky-brown face creased into a sudden smile. Her novena had been answered. “Gabriel is safe.”

  “Safe from whom?”

  “Safe from himself, and those who seek to take his life.”

  Slipping off the stool, Serena curved her arms around the older woman, inhaling the differing smells clinging to her body. She savored the fragrance of cloves, mint, and bergamot, while Luz Maria’s large, dark eyes narrowed in a smile. The blending of her African, Native Indian, and Spanish blood made for a seductive attractiveness that made Serena wonder why some man hadn’t claimed Luz Maria for his wife.

  “Thank you, Doña Maria.” The woman had never lied to her.

  “You want to know about your brother’s future, yet you hesitate to know your own.”

  “Maybe before I leave Costa Rica again I’ll ask that you tell me.”

  “You won’t have to ask, Chica. I will tell you whether you ask me or not, because you will need to know what to do.”

  Serena pondered her cryptic statement as a chill raced down her spine, causing her to shiver noticeably. Bruja, she said to herself. Luz Maria had been called a witch by many of the people connected with La Montaña, but it was only now that she was inclined to believe them.

  The iciness had not left her limbs even after she’d carried a tray with the tea, a bowl of creamed rice cereal, and a glass of tropical fruit juice to David’s bedroom. Luz Maria’s prediction that Gabriel’s life would not end in a Florida prison cheered her, while the prophecy that her own would be inexorably entwined with David Cole’s unnerved her.

  There was no doubt that she was attracted to him—only a blind woman would not be—but she wanted that attraction to be a superficial one. He was good-looking. No, she admitted, he was gorgeous. His rich, olive-brown coloring, liberally gray-flecked, black silky hair, delicate features, and dimpled smile were mesmerizing. His tall, muscular body was exquisitely formed, and his deep baritone voice was soft and melodious. The fact that he was wealthy, vain, and arrogant only added to his overall masculine appeal. In his arrogance he was very secure with who he was and what he had become.

  She placed the tray on a small, round table next to the armchair, then helped David from the bed over to the chair, noticing that he continued to clench his teeth. It was obvious that his pain had not disappeared completely. After raising his right foot onto the stool, she positioned the tray over his lap.

  He fed
himself while she changed his bed. She felt his gaze watching her every movement, and wished that she had not worn the shorts. Whenever she turned she saw his one uninjured eye fixed on her legs.

  Crossing the room, she stepped out into the hallway and picked up his leather garment bag and Pullman. The leather was soft and supple as heated butter. The bags were well used, yet had retained the distinctive smell of newly tanned hide. Walking slowly under the weight of the bags, she made her way into the bedroom.

  David had just drained a large mug filled with a sweet, fragrant tea when he saw Serena laboring under the weight of a garment bag she had slung over her shoulder and another large case she pulled along the floor.

  “Let me help you,” he offered, putting the tray on the nearby table. He attempted to rise to his feet, then halted. He had put all of his weight on his swollen foot, nearly losing his balance.

  “I’ve got it,” she insisted, breathing heavily and dragging the Pullman.

  Recognizing his own luggage, David hobbled slowly across the room, favoring his right foot. He knew the weight in the leather pieces, because he’d packed enough clothes for his two-week stay.

  All of his suspicions about Vega were now confirmed. He’d thought perhaps someone had assaulted him in a robbery attempt, and if that had been true then he never would’ve seen his luggage again. Any knowledgeable thief would have sold the two pieces and contents for a tidy sum. Blinding rage surpassed all of the pain torturing his body.

  “Put them down, Serena! Now!”

  Registering the deep, angry command, she let go of the Pullman and eased the strap of the garment bag off her shoulder. It landed heavily on the floor beside the Pullman. Folding her hands on her hips, she glared up at David as he gingerly made his way over to her. Moisture lathered his face with the effort it took to put one foot in front of the other.

  “What are you trying to do?” he questioned. His tone had softened considerably.

  Her stance did not change as she stared up at him looming above her.

  “Don’t ask a dumb question if you don’t want a dumb answer,” she snapped angrily.

  “I wouldn’t have to ask if you hadn’t shown me what a fool you are to try to move something that weighs more than you do,” he countered.

  Her gaze widened. “Are you calling me a fool? Maybe I am,” she continued, not giving him a chance to come back at her. “I am a fool for taking care of someone who’s too stubborn and much too ignorant to acknowledge that I’m only trying to help.”

  Reaching out, he caught her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. “I’m not calling you a fool. I—”

  “Do I have to add liar to the list of your other sterling qualities?” she interrupted.

  The warmth, softness, and scent of Serena seeped into David, making him forget who he was, where he was, and the pain wracking his body from head to toe. He held onto her as if she were his lifeline. He wanted and needed her to take away his pain, the yearning surpassing every craving he’d ever known, while defying description.

  His outstretched fingers covered more than half her back, and she was certain he felt her slight trembling. Her face was pressed against his shoulder, and as she shifted her head the end of her nose grazed the thick, crisp, curly hair on his broad chest.

  He closed his eyes, languishing in her female heat and feeling the white hot pain slipping away. Swaying slightly, he managed to keep his balance.

  “Let me go, David.” Her voice was muffled in his chest.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “Not yet.”

  “Please.”

  He heard the husky plea, but he would not release her. What he wanted was for her to offer him what all of the women in his past had not been able to do—he wanted Serena to relate to him not because he was David Cole, but because he was a man; a man whose name and family mattered naught to her.

  His hold on her slender body eased as he pulled back. The tense silence multiplied and surrounded them with an awareness that had not been apparent before. Without a word of acknowledgement, their roles changed from that of nurse and patient to that of man and woman—male and female.

  Serena’s arm tightened around his waist, and he leaned docilely into her as she led him back to the bed. She spent the next half-hour bathing and shaving David while he lay motionless, eyes closed. Seeing his nude body did not disturb her as much as Luz Maria’s prediction which had caused confusion in her head.

  The young man you’re taking care of will be a part of your future.

  No! a voice in her head screamed. All she wanted was for him to heal, conclude his business with her father, then return to the States.

  All she wanted for herself was her brother’s freedom.

  Chapter 12

  David spent the morning and early afternoon drifting in and out of a painless sleep, giving Serena the opportunity to unpack his luggage. She hung up eight pairs of lightweight summer slacks, two dozen monogrammed shirts, four jackets, a half-dozen silk ties, six pairs of shoes, and a month’s supply of briefs and socks, most bearing the label of Ralph Lauren or Façonnable.

  A leather shaving kit contained Façonnable scented soap, deodorant, aftershave balm, and cologne. The masculine, woodsy scent was well-suited to its wearer. A small flannel bag contained a gleaming, sterling silver razor with DCC inscribed on its delicately curved handle. She slipped the razor back into its sack, smiling. The disposable razors she’d used to shave him had not even come close to the elegant, engraved shaving instrument.

  Emptying the contents of the shaving kit, she discovered an ultra-thin Piaget watch. Examining it closely, she read the back of the timepiece. There was no doubt that the watch’s exquisitely thin case in solid eighteen karat gold and black lizard strap cost more than some farm workers earned in a year harvesting crops. There was no question that David Cole spared no expense when selecting his wardrobe and accessories.

  Returning to the bed, she stared down at his relaxed face. His bare chest rose and fell gently in sleep. The discoloration over his left eye had changed from an angry purple-red to a shiny, dark blue. Some of the swelling had faded so much that he would soon claim full visibility. The sutures along his cheek held the flesh tightly with no sign of swelling or redness. There was no doubt that his face would be scarred, but she suspected that it would not detract from the natural male beauty which made him devastatingly handsome.

  She decided to let him sleep. She needed to contact her parents in San José to find out what progress they’d made in securing the release of her brother.

  The phone rang a half dozen times at the Vegas’ San José residence before someone picked up the telephone.

  “Hola,” came a softly modulated female voice.

  “Mother?”

  “Serena? Have you heard anything?”

  “No. That’s why I’m calling you.”

  A soft sigh filtered through the receiver. “Nothing has changed. Raul met with President Montalvo twice, but there’s been no word from the American ambassador about a formal discussion. All we can do is pray.”

  “Dona Maria says Gabe is safe.”

  There was a moment of silence before Juanita spoke again. “Are you certain she said that?”

  “She said ‘he’s safe from himself and those who seek to take his life.’ You know I’m not superstitious, but I believe her, Mother.”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore. All I want to do is…” Her voice broke, and she was unable to continue.

  Serena felt her own eyes fill with tears. “Mother, please—don’t.” The soft sobbing coming through the wire shattered her control. It pained her to hear her mother’s anguish. “Call me when you hear something.” She ended the call, hanging up and cutting off the sound of Juanita’s weeping.

  Blinking back her own tears, she berated herself for telephoning and upsetting her mother. She made a silent promise not to call her parents again. She would wait for them to contact her.

  She felt
a strange restlessness that wouldn’t permit her to lie or sit down. What she wanted was for everything to be a dream, and when she awoke all of the horrors of the past two weeks would disappear like a lingering puff of smoke. Something unknown whispered that she should believe Luz Maria’s prediction that Gabe wasn’t in any danger, but she would not believe it fully until she touched him without the barriers of shackles or the presence of criminal justice officials.

  Her anxiety made her want to jog. However, that was impossible in ninety degree tropical heat. Whenever she ran she gloried in the rush of wind across her face. It made her feel as if she were flying, soaring high above the noisy crowds and burgeoning traffic, and made her free—free from the painful memories of love found and lost.

  Love lost. Why was she thinking of Xavier? Was it because of what Luz Maria prophesied about her future being linked with David Cole’s?

  Why him, when they did not even like each other? Why did she find arrogance and vanity unappealing traits in other men, but not in David?

  Walking over to the French doors, she opened them and stepped out onto the second story veranda. The humidity swallowed her whole in a cocoon of weighty, wet warmth. Low-hanging dark clouds indicated an imminent downpour. She sat down on a cushioned bamboo chaise, staring out at the landscape surrounding La Montaña and remembering the first time she had stepped out onto the veranda. The view of the mountains, ocean, and the dense growth of the rain forest had made her feel as if she had flown up to heaven, where she looked down and saw all that God had created. A smile had curved her lips and she had whispered, “It is good.”

  And it was still good. The panoramic vistas had the power to soothe and erase her anxiety. She had waited until four months after her marriage ended to return to Limon, and the moment the small plane touched down at the airport the healing had begun.