Tell Me I'm Dreamin'

by Eboni Snoe

  “The way you say it makes it sound so simple.” He looked up at her open, sincere features. “And I believe for you it would be. But there is one thing that I have always been, no matter what my other faults may be, and that is honest. The truth is, Nadine, I am not good at giving of myself. Especially not in the way your words imply. I have had no need to be. Physically? Yes. That is my forte. So let us look at this straight on. You and I are here tonight, and the opportunity is ripe for many things; after tomorrow, we may not see each other again. That is the reality.”

  Nadine turned her head to avoid his eyes as she felt the sting of tears resulting from the truth he had spoken. Regardless of what she had told herself earlier that morning, Nadine knew she was not the kind of woman who could love, especially for the first time, and not expect some semblance of love in return. For her, sex could not be an act without love. They were inseparable.

  Nadine’s hands pressed down on his shoulders as she attempted to extract herself from his embrace. “Ulysses, I’m no different from you when it comes to changing the way I am, and I can’t allow myself to do this. I’ve waited all these years, and I guess I can wait a while longer.” Her hazel eyes narrowed as she spoke. “I’ll admit I want you, but I know I deserve more than a man who has consciously decided he does not want to give or receive love.”

  She struggled to rise from the divan, but Ulysses’ arms remained like steel bands around her, yet the fear and anger that gripped her heart were just as strong. She had to get away from this man whose heart had been voluntarily hardened against the most tender of emotions. “I may be inexperienced, Ulysses, but I’m no fool. I believe that love is the strongest and most powerful emotion that we as humans have to offer. Without it we are nothing. If you are afraid to open up to the possibility of feeling love for another person, I feel sorry for you.” She spoke the words as she shook her head.

  Ulysses looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Then his hands dropped and rested outside of Nadine’s thighs as he pressed his face closer to hers, his eyes lighting up with a searing intensity. “A few moments ago you said all you wanted was what I was able to give, and that is what you will get, Nadine Clayton. It is too late to change your mind now.”

  Roughly, his lips descended on hers, forcing her head against the wall behind it. Ulysses was no longer able to stand their lush closeness without partaking of them. Looking into her frightened eyes, he lessened the pressure and spoke with his mouth still pressed against hers. “It is not that I do not want to give or receive love, Nadine.” His tortured stare held hers captive. “I need help,” he huskily pleaded as he nibbled at her full bottom lip, “your help.”

  Ulysses began to press his hard frame against hers, and Nadine could feel the rigidness of his desire as he blazed kisses down her face, her throat, and onto the soft flesh that swelled, forming her breasts. “Say you will help me find the love I need so badly.”

  His intensity alarmed Nadine, and she grabbed for any straws of rationality she could to dissuade him. “Stop, Ulysses. No, I can’t do this. I won’t! I’ve waited so long to find someone worthy of sharing my love,” the words tumbled out, “I simply can’t waste myself or my love on this situation . . . on you.”

  She watched as pure pain flashed in his eyes then disappeared beneath an emotionless blanket. Regret filled her seconds later as Ulysses sat back stiffly, then rose to his feet, never removing his eyes from her face. For seconds on end he stared at her, an ugly cynicism marring his handsome features.

  “So you think that your love would be wasted, do you? Well, do not flatter yourself, Miss Clayton. You are not the first person to feel I’m not good enough for them, and you won’t be the last.” He looked at her with distaste. “I will leave the job of making you into a woman up to some cold, pompous little fool that can promise you everything you want, including himself. And he will be able to deliver it too.” A guttural laugh made mockery of her. “But believe me, he will not deliver anything the way I can.” He paused, his stare intensifying. “But you need not concern yourself with that, because we will never see each other again.” Ulysses took one step back, giving Nadine just enough room to leave.

  The look of disdain on his dark features made her feel all the more self-conscious as she gathered the robe about her body. She felt her self-confidence ebbing away under his scathing gaze. Yet something inside Nadine would not allow her to accept all of the burden of this dark stranger’s emotional ghosts. She reminded herself, I am not the root of his problems, and I am worthy of some man’s love, even if it is not yours, Ulysses Deane.

  As she stood, Nadine returned Ulysses’ stare with a confident look of her own, and with her head held high, she made no hasty retreat as he watched her close the door.

  Chapter 11

  Silent laughter erupted from the people inside the minibuses as they waited for the streetlight to change, while others moved back and forth on the sidewalks with shopping bags and bundles under their arms. Inside a building across the street Nadine idly gazed at the scene through a window. The only sounds she could hear were street noises: horns blowing, the purr of motors, and the sound of calypso music. Everything on Barbados felt as different as night and day when compared to Eros. The narrow lanes of traffic bustled with activity from tourists and locals, making her short stay on the nearby island seem even more surrealistic.

  With each passing day Nadine questioned herself about the things that had happened there. Today was no different from the rest. Time only made her feel more uncertain about what her heart and mind told her had been reality.

  Nadine’s slender fingers involuntarily touched the cool stones lying against her skin. It was as if her body wanted to remind her of the only tangible thing she possessed that made her stay on Eros more than a fantasy—the necklace the cliff dwellers had given her. She had left behind the animal skin Madame Deane forced upon her. It did not belong to her. It belonged to Sovereign and Eros.

  When Nadine returned to her room from breakfast that last morning to retrieve her fanny pack and the onyx carving, she discovered it was gone. She searched the drawer thoroughly but the slab was not there. Clarence was waiting outside with the donkey cart, ready to take her to the wharf, so she decided there simply was not enough time to do anything about it. Yet Nadine knew if she were more truthful with herself, there was nothing she wanted to do about the carving being missing. She had never mentioned the stone to anyone at Sovereign, and she thought it would be rather strange, almost ungrateful, to accuse someone in the household of taking it when there were so many priceless possessions on the estate.

  Throughout that last morning at Sovereign Nadine had felt very tired; she had barely slept the night before. The two emotional days she had spent on Eros could be seen in her pinched features. So when the opportunity came for her to leave she was glad to go. Nadine had said her good-byes to Catherine and Madame Deane after the morning meal. She never saw Ulysses.

  That had been over three weeks ago. The work on Barbados had kept her busy, even though Dr. Steward, her boss, had gone to Paris and had remained there for the last two weeks. His calls came frequently, leaving brief instructions, promising a quick return that never happened.

  She had to admit she thoroughly enjoyed cataloging the literature and art that had not been categorized by the institute. The work was tedious but interesting, and the personal satisfaction was high. It felt good to be a part of an international team, one whose goal was to create a centralized computer database of the world’s treasures. There were only three members of the team working in the islands, including Dr. Steward, but it was wonderful knowing there were many others like her working in offices around the globe. Their tasks were the same, finding and cataloging the world’s treasures, and entering their existence into computer terminals whose messaging systems linked them all to a host computer in Paris, near the Louvre.

  “If you’re not going to use the terminal, I’ve got something I’d like to enter, if you d
on’t mind.” Claudia’s clipped tones broke into Nadine’s retrospection.

  Nadine looked up into her coworker’s judgmental features. She and Claudia had not hit it off well from the beginning, if they had hit it off at all. Claudia seemed to think that Nadine had only been accepted on the project because of a racial quota. So it peeved Nadine no end to be caught daydreaming at the window. As rare of an occurrence as it was, she did not want to give Claudia anything to feed her preconceived notions.

  “Sure,” Nadine responded, “you may use it. I guess I have been dominating the station. Look how many entries I have made compared to yours,” she quipped, smiling with a doe-like innocence, then keyed out of her program. That should shut her up for a while, she thought. I am not in the mood to deal with her narrow-minded views today.

  Nadine rose from the only comfortable chair in the room, allowing Claudia to take her place. She reflected on how, in the beginning, she believed they could be friends. But Nadine learned Claudia did not share her belief.

  At first Nadine had made excuses for Claudia. Claudia told her she had grown up in a small isolated town in Oklahoma, and had not had much contact with African-Americans. But after several weeks of working with Claudia and getting to know her, Nadine discovered she was satisfied with her tainted views, and had no intention of trying to open her mind to the reality of good and bad in all people.

  Once during a particularly belittling conversation, Nadine had fought back with comments about Claudia’s close, personal connection with Dr. Steward. Claudia had turned as red as a beet, making the black roots of her blonde hair even more pronounced.

  Nadine looked at the casual slacks and sweater Claudia was wearing today, and she knew she had not been far from the mark. When Dr. Steward was around the only thing Claudia ever wore were form-fitted sweaters and tight skirts that inched up whenever she sat down.

  “By the way,” Claudia called, aggression in her tone, “Dr. Steward will be back tomorrow. So if I were you I’d make sure I had all my ducks in a row before he arrives.”

  Nadine didn’t bother to respond as she walked out of the office door.

  “We have had this conversation over and over again, Melanie. I do not have any intentions of joining Sovereign’s sugarcane fields with Sharpe Hall,” Ulysses told her.

  “I am only thinking of you, Ulysses,” said Melanie softly, obviously hurt by his curt remark. “And you must admit this conversation is quite different from the others.”

  “Do not think about me, Melanie. I can take care of myself, and Sovereign.”

  “Why won’t you let me help you?” She touched his arm.

  “You call asking me to marry you helping me? Marriage should be much more than that. You deserve much more than that.”

  “It could be.” A seductive tone entered Melanie’s voice. “You know that.” She let her hand slide down to Ulysses’ hand, then slowly moved his hand upward until she placed it on her small, firm breast. “We would be good together, Ulysses. I have always loved you. It has just taken me all this time to tell you. Maybe I was waiting for you to come to me. But you never did. You went everywhere else, Ulysses. But you never came to me.” Her words revealed her injured pride.

  “Melanie, we have been friends for so long. Do not do this,” Ulysses urged, surprised by her forward actions. He had always known her to be extremely proper. She never revealed any indication of a strong sexuality. Somewhere inside, her sudden change unnerved him.

  Too many things had happened over the last few weeks. Things he could not ignore. Finding the onyx slab in Nadine’s room with her belongings had only been the beginning.

  Ulysses could not force himself to say good-bye to Nadine the morning she left Sovereign, not after what happened between them the night before. So he settled for visiting her room while she had breakfast on the lanai.

  His previous night had been restless. His mind was filled with thoughts of Nadine, who lay only a few yards away in the bedroom down the hall. Her unguarded sincerity haunted him as much as his need to physically have her. The urge to possess her had been strong, but her words of rejection had been even more powerful, delivering a blow to a very vulnerable place.

  As a child, the feeling of rejection had been overwhelming. Ulysses had come to believe his parents had left him because of his unworthiness. Especially his father, who had chosen death over a life with a weak son. As an adult the sharp edge on the pain had worn a little. Now it only surfaced as a dull throb when he felt his inadequacies or was reminded of them.

  As Ulysses looked around Nadine’s room, her only visible possession was a comb lying on top of the dressing table. He sat on the bed, bewildered. He was not able to say good-bye, but he was reluctant to let her go. In deep thought, he began to systematically open each drawer of the dressing table. The first two were empty, but in the third drawer, he saw Nadine’s fanny pack stuffed inside. Compelled by a desire to know the truth about her he took hold of the bag, but found it was snared upon an even heavier object. A mixture of shock, disappointment, and distrust erupted within him as he removed the onyx slab.

  For a while Ulysses stared at the smooth, black object as it lay inside the drawer, his feelings volleying between anger and betrayal.

  The manuscript pages had been stolen over two months ago. Why would Nadine still have this one in her possession if she was the original thief? She would have had plenty of time to sell it, if that had been her objective. And why would she return with the object to Sovereign, the place from which it had been stolen? Did she intend to secretly return it? Why? And why hadn’t she carried out her task if that had been her goal? Did Nadine know about the manuscript hidden within the carved stone?

  Ulysses’ first instinct was to confront her, but something else persuaded him to wait. Maybe she had come upon it by accident. If she were innocent, when she found out it was missing she would simply report it to Catherine or his aunt. So Ulysses decided to give Nadine that chance. For whatever reason, he needed to prove to himself she was innocent. But she never reported it. That morning Nadine left without saying a single word.

  “Do you find me so undesirable that you would not marry me, even if it meant saving Sovereign?” Melanie pushed her point further, a harshness descending upon her usually serene features.

  Stern, dark eyes regarded her. “Sovereign is my affair, Melanie. And it’s not such a desperate situation that it needs saving, at least not yet. Or do you know more about the group of workers who have refused to harvest my sugarcane than you are letting on?” Ulysses looked at her suspiciously. “Thank God the cliff dwellers haven’t gone into seclusion for the spiritual ceremony they hold every year around this time.” He ran an exasperated hand through the tangle of black curls on his head. “I am fortunate that most of the sugarcane crop was cut and sent to the mill before this rebellion got started. Things were bad enough, and now all this. What do you know about this, Melanie?” He watched for a change in her expression. “Is your brother Basil behind it? He has always disliked me and would not hesitate to pull something that would put all the sugarcane fields of Eros under his control.”

  “I do not know what to say.” Melanie looked down. “I never thought the day would come when you would not trust me.” Two injured obsidian eyes accused him. “I am the one who has always defended you, Ulysses. In the village, and even against my own brother. But ever since your aunt’s accident you have changed . . . toward my family . . . and me. I knew you never looked at me the way I wanted. The way a woman who wants a man she loves to look at her.” Melanie let go an ironic laugh. “You treated me like your sister. The way Rodney treats me. I hated that, but after Madame Deane was injured you even took that away.”

  “What did you expect?” Ulysses looked at Melanie, needing her to understand. “There were so many questions left unanswered, and the accident did happen on your estate. If Clarence hadn’t been trying to see that cook of yours, Aunt Helen would have died at the bottom of your well. To this day, Melanie, m
y aunt swears she received a letter from Sharpe Hall with your family seal on it, telling her if she met with the sender secretly, they could piece together all the things that had been kept secret about our family’s histories.”

  “And you believe her?” Melanie asked derisively. “One minute that woman is hissing like a serpent and the next she’s as calm and composed as a dove,” she retorted. Ulysses’ countenance hardened against Melanie’s harsh words. She acknowledged it and softened her approach. “All I am saying is, there are obvious reasons why you should not believe some of the far-fetched things your aunt says.”

  Ulysses began to walk away in offended silence.

  “Let us just forget about it,” Melanie offered, trying to make amends.

  “You know that is not possible,” Ulysses declared, turning abruptly. “After all these years the stories still have not died down about your father, Henry, and Aunt Helen. How he wooed her, although he was still married to your mother. Wooed her when she was at her weakest. When she was grieving over the death of my father, her only brother.” Ulysses stopped himself before he said what he really felt. That Henry Sharpe had been like a spider devouring an immobilized prey, taking total advantage of his aunt’s distressful condition after his parents died.

  “I remember how he called on her at least twice a day,” he continued. “She was so relieved there was someone to help her through the difficult time. Aunt Helen totally relied on him, and your father began to direct the workers and keep up the paperwork at Sovereign. She was grateful for his presence and his companionship.” Cynicism rose in his eyes. “Eventually, he took over running Sovereign’s affairs, and he ran them for seven years until he died. After that Clarence took charge of the workers and Aunt Helen looked after the records.” Ulysses paused. “Until this day she has never admitted they were having an affair, but after he died she never married, or pursued any other relationships,” he stated pointedly.