Coming Attractions

by Rosie Vanyon

  Da, da, something of the morning. Love shines in your eyes. Sparkling, clear and lovely. You're my lady… The lyrics came back to her in her father’s voice, and she suddenly recognized the song as an oldie by Styx.

  Styx…Styck… One singer. Only one.

  The “Styck” who signed the mysterious letter hidden in the book of faerie tales was none other than Cara’s father.

  Suddenly, Cara knew in her bones the nature of the treasure her mother had been seeking. The song “Lady” had been their song and Alessandra had kept it alive for all the years her husband, Dane, was missing. She had never stopped loving him, never given up hope. And he had never stopped trying to contact her.

  Against all odds, Alessandra had finally received a letter from Dane and set off to rescue him from where he was held captive in the Middle East. She had lost her life trying to save her one true love, died trying to bring her family together again.

  Cara began to cry. Her sounds were soft, but the tears pouring down her cheeks were abundant and dripped off her chin down her cleavage.

  Mia shot her an alarmed look in the dark and reached to grip her arm.

  “The treasure was Dad,” Cara whispered to her sister. “She wanted to bring Dad back.”

  Cara could feel Levi’s eyes on her, sense his concern and puzzlement, almost hear his intrigue and empathy, but with the distance between them over the past months, she was totally unprepared as to how to respond to his silent communion. What could she say to him in the dim but crowded screening room? How could she condense the glut of discoveries and reactions and feelings she was experiencing into a few whispered sentences? So, rather than try and surely fail, she averted her eyes and said nothing as the film played itself out before them.

  Both Mia and Cara were still weeping as the final credits rolled, realizing that Alessandra had not, after all, selfishly abandoned them for some earthly treasure. Rather, she had risked, and ultimately lost, her life in an effort to rescue her one and only love and reunite her family. Cara’s father was the treasure after all.

  That kind of love was rare, Cara thought—one in a million, one in a hundred million maybe. It was the mythical ardor of ballads, the epic devotedness of poetry, the absolute ardency of legend. It was Orpheus and Eurydice, Paris and Helena, Jane and Rochester, Pochahontas and John Smith…

  It was Cara and Levi.

  The thought came unbidden but wholly and precisely accurate and fitting. She loved him. Not in some girlish crushy way. Not in some overly romanticized fantasy way. No. Cara loved Levi the way a woman loved the man who was her soulmate. She loved him with every particle of her mind, body, and soul. She loved him in the simplest way, and the most complicated. She loved him as she could love no other as long as she lived.

  Her devastation over the last months had been total. Losing Levi had left her empty and shattered as though the space inside her chest was a bombed city or a black hole. She had been sick and listless, unwilling and barely able to eat, to laugh, or even to write. She felt as though she was cursed, that a limb had been amputated, that some vital part of her being had been excised, that she was withering away.

  As the screen faded to black, she realized there was no question what was missing—in fact, there never had been—and he was sitting right beside her in the dark theatre having just delivered her family back to her—restored her faith in blood connections, love, trust, and forever.

  That’s all, she thought glibly. He just gave me everything.

  So, what was Cara going to do about it? Hold it against him that he had been hell bent on saving his beloved niece at any cost? Wouldn’t she have done the same? Wasn’t that what she loved most about him? His ambition? His tenacity? His commitment to family and those he loved?

  Hadn’t she herself felt safe and cherished under his protection? Hadn’t he supported her at every turn? Reviled Alessandra’s supposed betrayal? Championed her writing? Yes, they had disagreed about the film, but he had never acted against her. He had always treated her with courtesy and respect. He had always been on her side. Well, always until that final morning before he drove away.

  Could there still be a chance for the two of them, she wondered. Did he miss her as much as she pined for him? Did he miss her at all?

  She came back to herself as the final credits scrolled over a night sky backdrop, rolling away to leave a twinkling starscape. For just a moment, Cara thought she saw a stray constellation twinkling her name, but when she blinked, it was gone.

  She brushed away her tears as the lights came up and turned to look at Levi, but at that moment, they were swamped by a crowd of fervent well-wishers jamming the aisle—George, Leonardo, Jennifer, Johnny. There was no chance to exchange a glance or a touch, let alone few words, with Levi.

  Eventually, the exuberant crowd carried them out into the foyer where buffets groaned under the weight of food and wine. There were speeches, toasts, photographs, praise, interviews…

  “You want to get out of here?” Mia finally asked as she found Cara drooping in a corner. The champagne had worn off along with the professional elation and the personal closure.

  Cara’s eyes darted across the room to where Levi had been cornered by yet another eager blogger and his photographer sidekick and she nodded wearily. He hadn’t sought her out and she wasn’t likely to get near him anytime soon. More than anything after the tumult and turbulence of the evening’s revelations, she needed to lie down before she fell down.

  The reviews were rave. The film was tagged to break all records, securing Cara’s future as a screenwriter. Indeed, the phone was ringing when she returned to her apartment and continued to trill even now, two weeks later, bringing a torrent of offers. Like a lovesick teenage fan, she had greedily gobbled up everything the media had to say about the film, especially whenever Levi was mentioned.

  Most interesting had been the piece that had appeared in Forbes, which made mention of the film’s success, but focused primarily on Levi’s latest business deal. His spokesperson, former personal assistant and business partner, Candy Evans, confirmed that Levi had sold his startup business, AdVisor, to a search engine giant for an undisclosed sum. The concept was touted as simple but ingenious.

  “Levi sank some money into a project to build a motorcycle helmet display, like Google glass, that brings up relevant, real-time data onto the edge of riders’ helmet visors. The idea is that you can get GPS maps and directions, weather, and riding stats, such as speed and distance, right on your eyeshade. More importantly, it can plug into government and commercial networks and post warnings about potential hazards—like, say, roadwork.”

  Cara paused in her reading, not missing the significance of his own experience.

  “The prototype has been picked up by a major international player. He jokes that he’s now in the position to buy a small country.”

  Cara’s mind swung back to the night he received the three a.m. phone call—“Took the bait…guarantee…recommend you…”

  Maybe he hadn’t cashed in on the sapphire. After all, he had been packed and ready to fly to Bronte’s side before they had talked about possibly having found the jewel. Maybe he had funded Bronte’s operation with the proceeds of AdVisor’s sale. Maybe his behavior hadn’t been sinister and underhanded. Maybe she had gotten it wrong.

  But why had he gone cold on her? Why had he been so rude and brusque? Why had he almost completely turned his back on her since the day he flew to Bronte’s side?

  She needed to know. But how to find out?

  “Call him,” Mia urged when Cara sheepishly confessed her rationale.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Besides, she didn’t have his cell phone number. Funny that they had become so intimate so quickly and yet she didn’t know these prosaic day-to-day details. Where did he even live? Did he read the papers? Did he prefer mild or hot curry? Did he donate to charity?

  Who are you kidding, cowgirl? You could snavel his cell number in a heartbeat.

&nb
sp; But Cara was miserable, gridlocked by fear, embarrassment, totally unsure what to do next, and equally bothered by the nothing she was doing.

  ****

  It was peculiar crossing the isthmus in the Subaru wagon instead of on the Duke, but her late afternoon mission required four wheels, not two. It was strange owning a car. In fact, pretty much her whole lifestyle seemed bizarre and unfamiliar to her since she’d recovered from the revelations of the release of Lost Treasure.

  For instance, she’d just left the Ocean Ridge real estate office where she’d outlined the specifications of the type of house she’d like to buy. She’d asked for a family home somewhere close to Mia’s place, maybe a renovator, with a garden. One day, she would fill it with the smell of baking, the laughter of children, and the feel of home.

  Cruising up the driveway to the house, she was relieved to find the turning circle empty. She opened the hatchback and withdrew a cat box, the price tag still attached. She was about to close the hatch when she paused and reached for the cashmere turtleneck she had stashed there in case the weather turned and she spread it on the floor of the carrier.

  When she reached the veranda, she found the door locked and the key no longer beneath the window sill. Disheartened but not discouraged, and almost as if she were pulled by a cord, she walked around the mansion to the back kitchen door. Providence. Not locked.

  Everything was stripped bare, empty. A couple of cardboard boxes sat on the counter. She picked up Mia’s mended Smurfette mug, turned it in her hands, and placed it back in the carton. She looked down at the back door where the sapphire had always stood—a fortune disguised as a doorstop.

  It wasn’t there.

  Had it been packed up into one of the cartons? Had it been discarded as rubbish? How crazy would that be? Millions of dollars ditched at the rubbish dump. She almost laughed. It really wasn’t her concern. She had no use for it. There was only one thing she truly needed and he was—

  Unexpectedly, she heard the roar of a bike coming up the driveway. Her seasoned ears picked out the throaty roar of a thousand plus ccs of Aprilia. She threaded her way back to the front door and let herself out onto the veranda to watch the black motorcycle curl around the turning circle and pull up.

  She knew who the rider was, of course, even with the body armor and the tinted helmet. She knew the tilt of his head, the curve of his leg, the position of his hips, the arc of his arm. She would know him anywhere.

  He killed the engine and slid the helmet off.

  Dirty blond hair, dazzling gray-green eyes, sensual lips. Levi looked mouth-watering in leather.

  He dismounted and walked toward her—not slowly, not quickly, just surely and steadily.

  “You look good,” she told him, her voice cracking mid-phrase. It was the understatement of the century. Black leather was made for him. “You’re riding again?”

  “Exposure therapy seemed to do the trick. I’m back in the saddle.”

  The conversation they were having on the surface had nothing to do with the other dialogue taking place—the one between their eyes, body language, unspoken emotions, and palpable lust.

  “How’s Bronte?”

  “She’s well. She’s made a full recovery. She can’t wait to get back on a bike, believe it or not.”

  “I believe it. They are kind of addictive.”

  “You’re kind of addictive.”

  She sucked in a breath, suddenly turned on and afraid all at once. She couldn’t find her voice, hoped her eyes were telegraphing her fear and desire.

  “I’m serious, Cara. I need you like a junkie needs a hit. I am miserable without you. I want us to be together. To build a life together.”

  His words were almost too much for her to take in. She didn’t know what to say, what to do. Still, she couldn’t find her voice. She could hardly believe he was here, that they were having a conversation, let alone this one that she’d longed for, the love and forever discussion.

  “I’ve cleared out the house,” he told her. “We could live here. Make it our home base. Raise our family here. We’d be close to Mia and Joe and the kids. We could work out of the house some of the time… Say something, Cara, for God’s sake.”

  “You’ve planned it all out.” Her words were a mere skerrick of sound and trailed off into a cloud of astonishment and wonder.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to plan and dream and hope. But it’s all for nothing if you’re not in it with me. Please say this isn’t a lost cause.”

  She smiled at him then.

  Children…a family… He wanted all that. With her. She would need to tell him, of course, about the baby she had lost, about her fears, about the commitment-phobia that made even a deep and meaningful relationship with a begonia tricky.

  She glanced down at the cat carrier.

  She could also tell him he had changed her, that he had taught her to love, taught her to trust… She could show him she was taking baby steps every single day to be the best Cara she could be.

  And, in any case, he had his own scars, his own reservations, quirks, and failings. He would understand. And he would be right by her side to pick her up when she fell, to growl when she put herself in danger, to cheer when she bravely faced the future.

  Under the spell of his words, the crippling hurt his abrupt departure had caused her almost faded away into the background—but only almost. Some sense of self-preservation welled up inside her. It roared, reminding her of the pain he could wreak and demanding reassurance that he would not inflict it again.

  “I need to understand what happened. Why did you turn on me? Why did you just walk away and never look back? And what’s changed?”

  She was pleased with the steadiness of her voice, the soundness of her question. She hoped he didn’t notice her hands trembling.

  His words came out in a rush. “Oh, Cara, I’m making a balls up of this whole reconciliation thing. Since I learned you were heading out to Flinders’ Keep tonight, I haven’t been able to think straight. I’d been considering calling you, but it didn’t seem like a phone thing. Besides, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think you could ever forgive me. But when Belle said you’d be here, it was like my heart flipped out and overrode my brain. I had to see you. I just switched off my doubts, fired up my bike, and came straight away. I didn’t plan out pretty words to say. I didn’t rehearse a speech. I clearly didn’t even get my thoughts in order—”

  “Just say it, Levi.”

  “I’m so sorry, Cara. I’ve been a fool. Please forgive me.”

  “Forgive you for…?”

  “The thing is, the day we went to pick up the motorcycle, the day before I left, I saw you putting that crown thing—”

  “The tiara?”

  “Right…in your handbag. I thought maybe it was something Belle had given you. I found it odd, but I didn’t think much of it until that last night in my trailer when you made some passing comment about your mother’s treasure right before I fell asleep.”

  “I may have said something. I don’t recall…” She faltered.

  “Something about looking like I’d found your mom’s treasure. Anyway,” he admitted, “my sleeping brain put the crown and the comment together and woke up with greed.”

  Cara was perplexed, not really understanding his confession. “I’m sorry?”

  “I thought you had found the treasure in the form of the tiara and you had taken it for yourself. I thought that all along you had just been using me for your own ends, not the least of which was to find and keep the jewel.”

  His words burned. Did he really have so little faith in her? “Like mother like daughter? Was that it? The apple never falls far from the tree and all that?”

  “Cara, I’m so sorry…”

  “At the slightest provocation, you jumped to the conclusion that I was a gold digger. You thought I would withhold a fortune when that money could save someone you loved.”

  “It sounds ludicrous when you put it like that. I was wron
g, Cara. In the worst way.”

  “You decided I was some sort of heartless, exploitative bloodsucker…”

  “Let’s not be melodramatic.”

  “Harsh, Levi.”

  But now that his thought process had resolved itself to her, Cara didn’t know whether to be deeply offended and smack him or to laugh—so outrageous was his conclusion. Clearly he realized he had been wrong about her and he obviously felt bad about it. Hadn’t she just acknowledged to herself that they each had their own quirks and failings? Could she really punish him for being human?

  Laughing didn’t quite win, but Cara could barely hide her smile. “If I was just after the treasure and I had possession of it, why would I have still been sleeping with you?”

  “Well, I’m told I’m not too bad in the sack…”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Kidding! I decided you still needed the film to happen. You were keeping me sweet, so I’d finish the movie for your professional kudos and your personal curiosity.”

  He paused and took a long breath. He looked her—gray eyes met blue. He reached out and placed his hands on her upper arms, gently holding her as though he was afraid she might turn away.

  “I’m so sorry, Cara. It was a crazy day. I’d just got the call about the AdVisor sale and then a few minutes later, you slept through an update about Bronte’s condition getting worse. I was brain-fried and frazzled. I connected all the wrong dots and I jumped to the worst possible conclusion. But there’s really no excuse. I know that you would never do something like that. I know that’s not who you are. In fact, deep down, I think I wasn’t convinced that someone so wonderful could really, truly want to be with me.”

  Her smile stretched wider then. “I guess when you see an heiress who’s been looking for a missing jewel try and secretly stuff a tiara in her tote, you might get a little suspicious,” she conceded.

  He met her smile and, in that moment, she believed that, over time, they could iron out the wrinkles and get their own story straight. And there was plenty of time.