by Madelon Smid
“Not at the moment.” Sharon tucked her arm through Siree’s and steered her toward the baggage carousels. “But let’s get out of here before they show up.” Siree could feel her mother’s concerned gaze running over her face and too slim form.
“I know, I know. I’m a wreck.” She forced a bright smile, her hand lifting to tuck in a loop of hair that had loosened from her braid. “I actually fell asleep on the plane.” She tried to sound carefree, but didn’t have the energy to work it like she wanted. “We’ll probably see a picture of me with my mouth open and drool down my chin on the front page tomorrow.”
Janice, who walked a few steps back, chuckled. “I assure you, I wouldn’t let that happen. I’m here to protect your image, not just your body.” Sharon nodding at Janice in approval patted her daughter’s shoulder. “That brings back happy memories of when you were a baby and fell asleep at my breast.”
A siren sounded, and the luggage started banging down onto the revolving carousel. Within minutes, they had collected their bags and reached Sharon’s car. The ride to the condo was anti-climactic, as no photographer or pushy journalist dogged their steps. They waited in front of the building instead. Sharon whizzed past into the underground garage. “The building owners got an injunction against them. They can’t come onto the premises or within one hundred yards of the doors, but that’s the best I could do,” she explained, as they rode up the elevator. “I’ve had some with telescopic lenses take photos from other high-rises, so you won’t be able to go out on the patio.”
Janice accompanied them as far as the front door. “I’ll check in with Gribbs, make sure security is in place before I leave. I’ll see you tomorrow. Now I suggest you get some rest.”
“Thanks, Janice.” Siree stepped into the foyer and leaned in for another hug. “Mom, it’s so good to be with you, to be home.”
“Well, we all said we’d be back in Vancouver for June, but none of us anticipated this. I hope I can provide the bolthole you need. Lucky for us, Ty built this time off into your schedule. However, we won’t be here long. Jake set us up for a weekend at a spa resort. He decided we both need to be pampered.”
When Siree twisted her hands in agitation, Sharon reached out to hold them still. “It has high security, beautiful grounds on the ocean, peace, fresh air, five star food, and all the amenities.”
“I don’t deserve to be pampered by Jake. I’m so mad at myself, Mom. It’s been years since Dad’s death and I’m not a naïve girl, now, but I reacted like a total idiot. If I hadn’t almost climbed inside Jake, the press would have dismissed my presence entirely. Instead of staying calm and fading into the background, I panicked and threw myself at him. Then I hid out like a criminal. I refused to deal with it, like he suggested. I’ve cost him a fortune in extra security, because I brought myself to the attention of some possessive woman who sees him as hers. I can’t imagine he wants anything to do with me.” She pulled at a strand of hair.
Sharon played her trick card. “Well, there I disagree with you, but regardless of how he feels, he’s made all the arrangements, and I, for one, need it. I haven’t been able to get out of here for weeks.”
Siree covered her eyes with her hands and stood, shaking her head. “Look what I’ve done to you. I started all this craziness by going to Jake. It’s just awful.”
Sharon pried Siree’s hands from her eyes so she could look into them. “All of it, Siree, or just the publicity?”
Siree felt a blush mount her cheeks. “If I could just be with him away from the world, I’d take it in a second.” She met her mother’s eyes squarely. “I feel so alive when I’m with him, like I’ve woken from a hundred year sleep. But when we’re apart, the hiding, subterfuge even to have a phone conversation, it goes against all my principles and makes me feel like a slug. I wonder if it can possibly be worth it. Mom”—she clung to Sharon’s hands—“I think I’m losing little pieces of my soul.”
Sharon didn’t scoff at the idea. She took Siree into her arms and rubbed her back as if comforting a toddler. “I’m so sorry you are going through this again, my darling. I know how much it devastated you to lose your father that way. But, you have to ask yourself why you’re hiding and who you’re hiding from.”
Siree pulled back, staggered a step, almost too tired to stand.
“Come, darling, you need a cup of tea and a sandwich, and then I’ll help you sort out what you want to take to the spa. Jake is sending a car for us in two hours. We’re flying via helicopter to this place outside Seattle. Jake’s friend, Sam, recommended it. I’m really looking forward to a girls’ weekend together. Let’s indulge ourselves at Jake’s expense. After all, he’s the cause of all our miseries.”
“He can’t help it, if…” Siree began to defend him, then saw the teasing laughter in her mom’s eyes, and knew she’d walked right into her trap. “Okay, it’s the least I can do if you’ve been hounded as mercilessly as I have.” She felt her spirits lighten for the first time in weeks. “I was looking forward to the weekend with you, and I don’t suppose it matters where that happens, but guaranteed privacy I won’t turn down.”
Hours later, Siree stood on the patio of a five star bungalow that looked out over the Pacific. A full moon laid a glittering path that led right to her feet. She wanted to wander down it to oblivion, to escape all the pressures and stresses that had bombarded her since Jake had arrived in Curacao and her safe world had erupted. She wanted her anonymity back to hide in. Her mother’s question leapt to the front of her mind. Why hide? Hide from whom? It had seemed obvious through this entire experience: hide from the press that hounded her.
She straightened from the rail and centered all her thoughts on an idea that seemed to be breaking through. Ever since her father’s death, she had exerted total control over every aspect of her life, yet now she relinquished it to strangers who didn’t give a thought for her except to use her for their own gain. She despised everything they stood for, yet she allowed them to ruin her life. She’d handed over her power to them. She tugged at her neckline, played with an earring.
She paced along the handrail like a wild creature. Worse, far worse, she admitted to herself she’d accepted the sacrifices of the people she loved, letting them fight on the frontlines while she hid. Her mother had paid the price. Jake cared for her, yet fought for her privacy, fielding every bit of the pressure while getting no help from her in return. And even Ty, crimson faced, blood pressure soaring, had shouted in the face of reporters who had rushed at her outside his office.
Working round the clock, she had finished her assignment in the Caribbean and run for cover, never so glad to get away from a place as then. Praising the jobs she’d done there and in Germany, he’d crossed his office to hug her. A close-up of her strained expression and shaking body, and he insisted he take her to her apartment to pack and then put her on the first plane to her mother.
She turned, her steps slowing. She’d given up everything to these jackals—her mother’s happy, peaceful new life, even Ty’s health. All had been endangered while she played the tragic victim. Freely, she’d handed over her power, her principles, and her promise never to let them hurt her again. Siree staggered, the blood draining from her head. She’d sacrificed precious time with the man she loved, a chance to let him come to love her. God, I love Jake! I sent him away, and I hid like a frightened child. How could I not know how much he meant to me?
The answer to one of her mother’s questions struck her with the same brilliance as the moonlight danced over the waves. Hiding from whom? I’m hiding from myself.
Shamed by her weakness, overwhelmed by what she’d allowed to happen, she sank into one of the rattan loungers, rested her head on the cushioned back, and stared up at the mystical face of the moon. Tonight it had the features of a woman. A trail of nearby cloud made it look like she combed her long hair. For a moment, it seemed the cloud would cover the moon, hide it from sight. Siree held her breath, caught up in the symbolism. As she watched, the
moon inched free of the cloud, flooding the night with light.
“Are you all right, honey?” Sharon stepped onto the patio. The moonlight slid over her, highlighting the graceful fall of her hair and robe.
Siree turned. “Yes, I am,” she said with more confidence than she’d felt in weeks. “Are you going to bed now?”
“I’m off.” Sharon crossed to kiss her on the cheek. “Between the long walk and that lovely dinner I’m done in. I think I’ll sleep late, if I can, and hope you do too.”
“We’re supposed to be at the spa for our first appointments at ten, aren’t we? You won’t see me till then.” She pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek.
****
True to her word, Siree slept late and had a light breakfast sent to her room. When she faced herself in the mirror her eyes were filled with resolve. She felt renewed, like she’d found the scattered pieces the paparazzi had ripped and torn from her, found them and fitted them together through the night. Centered once more, she followed the paved path from their bungalow to the spa.
“What a fabulous morning.” Sharon lifted her face to the sun and breathed in the rose-scented air. “Heaven.”
Much of the strain had left her mother’s face. Siree’s heart lightened further. Her contemplation the night before had put the steel back in her backbone. She no longer walked in fear. Never again would she give away her power. Anticipation of the treat ahead brought her smile into full play. The only thing that would make the weekend better would be a chance to apologize to Jake. As soon as she got home she’d find him. This was one thing she had to do face-to-face. But for now I’ll enjoy this wonderful weekend he planned for us.
“We’re like kids in a candy store.” She poked her mother. “What did you book for us?”
“The works, my darling. Jake insisted we spare no expense. I booked us side-by-side facials, massages, body wraps, a mani, pedi and hair. We are going to be gorgeous when we walk out of here.”
“Sam won’t know what hit him. He seemed so pleased when I phoned and asked if he wanted to take two lovely ladies to dinner,” Siree said.
“He’s been a good friend to you through this whole thing.” Sharon nodded. “I’m looking forward to meeting him. He sent flowers, you know, and the sweetest note of commiseration when he knew the press had descended on me.”
“He phoned a couple of times to check on me for Jake, too. We didn’t talk long, but he managed to make me laugh. He cares a lot about Jake. He flew into Toronto to see him.” She pulled open the heavy glass door and waited for her mother to precede her into the posh silence of the spa. Attendants moved forward to greet them, and soon they were swaddled in terry robes and headed for the massage tables.
“Jake said it’s safe to talk here,” Sharon murmured in Siree’s ear. “Everyone has signed confidentiality agreements.”
So talk they did, lightly covering family and friends, upcoming events, gardening work and climbing. Raised to the world of diplomacy, they avoided the personal and intimate and absorbed each other’s pleasure in silence a great deal of the time.
With her skin glowing, her finger and toenails tipped with a scarlet colored polish named Vavaboom, Siree settled into the swivel chair, her wet hair wrapped in a terry turban.
“So just a blow dry?” Her stylist clacked his scissor blades and addressed her in English laden with a Cockney accent. “Cripes, luv,” he intoned when the shampoo girl unbraided Siree’s hair to wash it. “Wha you doin’ to yourself?” He combed his fingers into the hair at her temples and lifted it away from her head. “Brilliant mane, luv, but weakened under all that weigh’. It’d be a treat to cut it.”
“It is heavy,” she agreed, thinking of the pain in her neck by the end of the day. She stared into the mirror. The wet strands looked like a net entrapping her. She remembered how it had complicated the act of love, recalled other moments of inconvenience, pain, awkwardness because of its length. “Maybe it’s time to let it go,” she whispered to her reflection. The woman in the mirror spoke with a little girl’s inflection and terror shone in her eyes. “Mother?” she appealed to Sharon.
Sitting in the chair next to her, Sharon had taken in the conversation while appearing to pay attention to the stylist working with her. She held up her hand, signaling him to stop talking and met Siree’s eyes in the mirror.
“I think you’ll look stunning with shorter hair, darling. It will be so much easier for you to handle.”
“But Daddy told me never to cut it.”
Sharon shot out of her chair and wrapped her arms around her from behind. “Your father would never want you to be bound by something that caused you pain. Not your hair. Not your memories. He’d tell you it’s long past time to let them go.” She pressed her cheek to Siree’s then went back to her chair and resumed her conversation with her stylist.
“Yes, I’m going to let it go.” She lifted her chin into the air, squaring her shoulders. “What do you suggest?”
Sharon winked at her in the mirror and lifted her fingers in a victory salute.
****
Siree felt so light and free she twirled across the living area of the bungalow. “What do you think, Mom?” She raised her hands and twirled again. Her hair, lifted like a sun-drenched wave, then flowed over her shoulder blades in a bright froth of waves and spiral curls.
“Delightful, absolutely perfect on you.” Her mother, looking gorgeous in midnight blue chiffon, gestured for her to turn again.
She swirled around, delighting in the feel of her scarlet jersey dress flitting against the back of her thighs. Narrow straps held up the sweetheart bodice while the length of her legs appeared elongated by the flirty heeled sandals on her feet.
“Vavaboom indeed. I think our escorts will be suitably impressed.” Sharon looked like a canary that knew the cat couldn’t reach her.
“Escorts?” Siree inquired. “You’ve added players to the roster without telling me.”
“Just a little treat I cooked up earlier.” Sharon stopped to listen. Tires hissed over the cobbled driveway. “Here’s Samuel now. Will I do?” She turned in a smooth circle that flared her own skirt around slender legs, and showed off the figure of a much younger woman. “I don’t want to put you to shame.” Her grey eyes twinkled.
Siree’s laugh rang true. “Like that could ever happen,” she teased back. She tucked her arm through her mother’s and tugged her toward the door.
Sam, finger posed over the bell, looked up startled by their instant appearance.
“We’re ready.” She looked to see which of her mother’s many friends hovered in the background, only to meet Jake’s brilliant eyes. They raced over her face, down to her strappy sandals and back up to her face. By the time they trapped her gaze again, they had darkened with want.
“Jake.” Siree’s hands reached for him as she stepped forward. “What a wonderful surprise.”
At her words, the tension left his body and he reached to enfold her in a hug that just kept happening. Neither could step back from the pleasure of holding and being held.
“Sam persuaded me I had a fifty-fifty chance you’d want to see me.”
“I’m dying to see you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his ear and glorying in the shiver that ran the length of his body.
He tightened his arms for a brief second. His stifled groan wafted warm air against her temple before he pulled back to acknowledge her mother. “Sharon”—he cleared the husky note from his voice—“thanks for inviting me to join you. I’m really looking forward to this evening.”
Sharon moved across from where she and Sam had carried on a light-hearted conversation to give Jake and Siree their moment. “I thought you’d like to see the results of your philanthropy. Siree and I had the most delightful day. Thank you.”
“I’m glad. I don’t think I’ve ever had greater pleasure from making a donation.” The wicked gleam leapt back into his eyes. “Sam, we won’t have to pay for dinner, because these two ladies look good
enough to eat.”
“And here I was looking forward to a good steak instead of Sharon on the half shell and fillet of Siree with wine sauce.” Sam turned to address Sharon again. “Shall we?”
They glided through the night in a stretch limousine. Glasses of vintage wine clinked together. Laughter flavored the evening. Four people in high spirits could create a lot of it. Conversation flowed from topic to topic, stimulating four fine minds.
Seated in the restaurant, Jake didn’t even try to take his eyes off Siree. He stared, too enraptured to care. She lit up the room, her hands moving in graceful gestures as she described one of the hotel managers she’d had to deal with in Curaçao. A born mimic, she had them hooting with laughter. Her foot grazed his calf under the table and he looked into golden eyes brimming with mischief. Her lips pursed in a silent kiss. Jake’s temperature rose another three degrees.
Sam jumped in with a tale of his own, and so the evening progressed, excellent food, exemplary service, and Siree taunting him with looks and touches that made the caveman in him hover dangerously close to the surface.
He wanted to drag her from the restaurant and bury his hands in her hair. He needed to feel the silken curls wind round his fingers, feel the heated weight of it near her scalp. He caught himself looking again and again at the difference it made in her carriage, and demeanor. She seemed to hover at an altitude all her own. Her hair had been about her guilt. Had she finally let go of both, or had something else caused this change in her?
When the tables around them emptied and the last of the wait staff hovered, Jake glanced at his watch and noted hours had passed in what felt like seconds. “I guess we better let these people close up and get home. They’ve had a long day.” He settled the bill as Siree and Sharon excused themselves to the powder room.