by Rita Hogan
Landon told her about the deal he had brokered with Adler Cromwell. “I’ll never forget the look on his face when I knew I had him. I’ll always remember how good it felt to seal that deal. It was then that Natasha knew I was ready. Not too long after, she fell in love with Gaston and then had Isabel. She didn’t want to continue working.”
“She didn’t want to be like your mom,” she guessed.
“No, she didn’t. My sister is a terrific mother, and Gaston thinks the world of her.” He glanced down at the camera bag Brooke held in her lap. “She’ll appreciate that you want to take pictures of the family. Speaking of which, before we go to Chile, there is someone else you have to photograph.”
“Yeah, who’s that?”
Landon told her about Carlos and the offer she had made to take pictures of his new granddaughter.
“I would like that! As you well know, my schedule is wide open at the moment, so make whatever arrangements work best for you and him. I should be able to take my sunglasses off in the next few days.”
A few moments later, Landon was turning the white metallic Maserati left, up a winding road. Upon cresting the small hill, Brooke could see a large stone and wood house looming in the distance. The structure supported large windows on the two sides facing the road.
When Landon led her through the front door, the photographer heard the screech of joy before she saw the brunette bundle of energy colliding into Landon.
“Uncle Landon, you’re here.”
He picked up his niece with ease. “Hi, sweetie pie! I’ve missed you.” He kissed her on the lips.
“I’ve missed you too, and so has Nicholas.”
Right on cue, Brooke saw a toddler, who appeared to be around two, running toward him, crying at the top of his lungs, “Lanin, Lanin here!”
With his free arm, Landon scooped up the little boy and kissed him too.
“Where’s your mom?”
“She’s in the kitchen,” replied Isabella.
He sat the children down, then looked at Brooke.
“Isabella and Nicholas, I want you to meet my friend Brooke. Can you say hi?”
His niece reached out her hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”
Brooke took the child’s small hand in hers. “The pleasure is all mine. You’re as adorable as your uncle said you were.”
Isabella looked up at Landon, saying in a matter-of-fact way, “He always says that.”
“He probably tells her more than he should,” came a voice from the back of the house.
Brooked looked toward the sound and saw a taller-than-average blonde walking toward them, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. The woman was beautiful but unpretentious. She didn’t look as if she had walked off the cover of a magazine, with every hair in place. She looked normal.
“You must be Brooke. I’m Natasha. It’s nice to meet you. Sorry for the messy hands,” she stated as she held one out toward Landon’s friend.
“It’s very nice to meet you, and thank you for having me.”
“We’re always happy to have friends. How are you feeling?” Natasha inquired with a touch of concern.
“I am much better. When I first woke up in the hospital, I didn’t think I would survive, my head hurt so badly. Each day it is improving.”
Natasha smiled before looking toward Landon and the kids, who were already climbing all over him. “The kids will want a hundred percent of my brother’s attention for the next ten minutes, and he’ll give it to them. Would you like to join me in the kitchen? We can talk while we’re waiting for dinner to be ready. Gaston had to run to the store for a quick errand. He should be here soon.”
“I would like that.” Brooke fell into step with Natasha as she made her way through the great room to the kitchen. “Your house is gorgeous. Wow! What a stunning kitchen!” she exclaimed as she looked around at the light sage green cabinets topped with a deep brown granite. Brooke could tell the stainless steel appliances were gourmet-rated with all the bells and whistles. The hood over the range was massive but appropriate for the size of the room. It didn’t surprise her to see such a kitchen in the home of a world- renowned chef.
“Thank you. Having a chef for a husband makes it easier to get the things you want. I only first began cooking about seven years ago when I fell in love with Gaston. If I was going to be a stay-at-home mom, I wanted to do the cooking. The first time Gaston tasted something I made, he insisted on doing the meals or bringing food from the restaurant. He assured me that it was no trouble at all. I insisted that he teach me. To my relief and his surprise, he actually enjoys my food. How about you? Do you cook?”
As soon as Natasha asked the question, she remembered her memory loss and realized her mistake. “I’m sorry; how insensitive of me.”
Brooke was leaning against the counter while Landon’s sister prepped a salad. “Please don’t apologize. It’s a normal question and easy to forget my condition. I don’t remember anything about myself before I awoke. However, hearing about your progress as a cook gives me hope.”
With arched eyebrows, Natasha continued to tear at the romaine lettuce. “I’m glad I could help, but what do you mean?”
Brooke told her about the lasagna she had prepared earlier in the week.
“I think with a few lessons and tips you’ll do fine on your next attempt. Perhaps we could plan a time to get together?”
Pleased by the offer, Brooke agreed to the idea.
“Get together for what?” Landon asked as he entered the kitchen. He made his way over to his sister and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Brooke told me about the lasagna she made.”
He smiled at the memory, impressed that she would willingly tell a virtual stranger about something she wasn’t good at doing.
“Landon would have eaten the whole plate if I hadn’t taken it from him,” Brooke added, laughing at the memory.
Finished with the salad, Natasha reached for the pot holders. “There is no doubt he would have. That’s the kind of person he is.”
Brooke noticed the soft look exchanged between brother and sister and knew there was more to the unspoken message that only history could interpret without words. It touched her.
When Natasha bent to retrieve something from the oven, the door to the kitchen opened and in walked Gaston holding a bag.
“Hey,” Landon greeted.
The sound of the door opening must have alerted the children that their father had arrived. They ran toward him as fast as their little legs could carry them. Isabella reached him first.
“Papa, you’re home! Look who’s here.”
“I see, ma belle. Your uncle has brought a friend. She is very nice, no, and she is Irish.”
At the mention of her untruth, Brooke turned two shades of red. She looked at the Frenchman and was about to explain her little charade, but Landon interrupted, saving her from having to confess. “I meant to tell you on the ship that we were having a little fun with you. I told her what you thought about the Irish and their cooking.”
Gaston placed the bag he was holding on the counter. “And why would you tell her such a thing? Unless you went to . . . No, please tell me you did not take her there.”
Brooke couldn’t tell if Landon was reacting to his brother-in-law’s words.
“How do you expect me to not be offended by your actions?” Gaston asked with grave disappointment.
Looking at Natasha and seeing the sparkle in her eye and the twitching of her lips, Brooke knew Gaston really wasn’t upset. Feeling relieved, she stepped back to enjoy the show.
Glancing upward in slight exasperation, Landon remarked, “I know, I know, they should stick with making beer. I happen to like the chef’s cooking, but it doesn’t mean I like his food better than yours.”
“Humph,” Gaston retorted, before storming out of the kitchen.
Looking sheepish and remorseful, Landon glanced at Natasha. “Have I told you how touchy your husband is about food
?”
A few seconds later, the chef came strolling back into the kitchen. “How is it that you Americans say it—‘gotcha’?” Smiling, he added, “I knew the whole time what had happened.” He glanced at Brooke. “You confessed to me after dinner the first night on the ship. As recompense, I asked you to not tell Landon I knew in order to get him back.”
Over dinner they all had a good laugh over the whole Dragonfly charade, along with a good healthy debate about food at the lovely restaurant. For their meal, Natasha had prepared a leg of lamb marinated in olive oil and Herbs de Provence, served with buttered baby fingerling potatoes and homemade Caesar salad.
The conversation drifted to the issue of the Lake House accounts and the upcoming trip to Chile. Landon mentioned that Brooke would be joining him and Tomas. It would give her an opportunity to take some pictures of the neighboring country.
“You’ll enjoy Chile, Brooke.” Gaston wiped his mouth with a pale blue linen napkin before leaning back in his chair. “Natasha and I go there often and we always enjoy our stay. They have beautiful beaches and, in some ways, their part of Patagonia rivals ours.”
“I’m looking forward to the trip.” Brooke took a sip of her chardonnay, appreciating the easy manner of Landon’s family.
Natasha glanced at her brother. “Very astute of you to catch the discrepancy. It’s unlikely they are legitimate, so it’s wise that you’re looking into things.”
“I hope we’re wrong.”
“Me too,” his sister responded. “I probably should get the kids to bed and then I’ll make coffee and we’ll have dessert.”
“I’ll take them,” Landon offered.
“Thanks.” Glancing at Brooke, Natasha offered, “If you want, make yourself comfortable in the living room while Gaston and I clean up the dishes.”
“Would you like for me to take some pictures of the children before they go to bed? Or we could do it another time, if it’s too late,” Brooke offered.
Considering, Natasha replied. “That would be great! How about a few candid shots of them playing in the living room? They might be too tired to pose. Then maybe we can plan a time for you to come back?”
“I would like that.”
The children are delightful, Brooke thought as she clicked several pictures of them playing on the floor in the living room. Nicholas was a blur of energy and in constant motion, which made for some great shots. Isabella was a little helper, ever watching over her little brother. It reminded her of the relationship between Landon and Natasha. When she was done, their uncle whisked them off to bed while their mom and dad made their way to the kitchen.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Brooke offered.
“Not at all. Relax; we’ll be done with clean up soon.”
When they disappeared around the corner, Brooke put on her coat before making her way to the sliding glass door that led to the deck. She was greeted by a full moon, its light reflecting brightly off the snowcapped mountains.
As she took in the view, in some odd way she knew she was happy here in this faraway land, as if she hadn’t been happy in a long time. Brooke wondered if she would experience flashes of her memory. The doctor had mentioned it as a possibility. Instead, she felt surges of emotions, feelings that made their way inside of her, settling as if they were speaking to her from the distance of her past.
Remembering the conversation she had with Landon the day before, about people she loved and who had loved her, caused her to close her eyes and search for the faceless people of her previous life. All she saw was emptiness; but she felt them, as strongly as she felt the pain that she knew was very real. Would she be able to handle whatever tragedy was imbedded in the history of her life?
There was something about seeing Landon and Natasha together that brought about another flash of emotion—longing. Did she have a sibling that she had loved the way they loved each other? The possibility brought understanding to the words Landon had spoken the day before about how the pain would be worth remembering all the wonderful memories. He had spoken the words as if he knew from firsthand experience. Was his confident response based on the horrific thing he had done? Had Natasha helped him to remember the good times while he struggled with his own pain?
She was so deep in thought she didn’t hear the sliding glass door open.
“Brooke, is everything all right?”
It was Landon’s voice.
Turning, she smiled at her friend, encouraging him to join her by the rail. “I’m fine. Lost in thought, that’s all. Thank you for coming to my rescue with Gaston earlier this evening. I guess we both deserved his payback.”
Landon chuckled. “He had me going there for a moment. I don’t think I’ll go back to Dragonfly for a while, unless you are eager to go since you can’t remember?”
“Eventually,” she replied, turning her gaze back to the moonlit landscape. “Your family is wonderful.”
“They are. Were you thinking about who your own family might be?”
Turning her gaze to look at him, she searched his eyes. “Why is it that you are able to read me so well?”
It was his turn to look away. “I think we’re a lot alike.”
“How so?”
“We feel things deeply. That day when we were in Villa La Angostura, before we went back to the ship we wandered toward a church I thought you might like to photograph. You were drawn to the cemetery. I noticed you didn’t take any photos. When I asked you why, you commented on how sacred the place was, too sacred to capture in still life. You continued to describe how death anchored the land, but how life surrounded it so that the dead never truly died. You felt that taking a picture would distill the life that ebbed and flowed on the hallow ground.”
He returned his gaze toward her. “I was very moved by your words — not as much by the beauty and elegance of them, but more because you spoke them with such depth and awareness. I couldn’t resist asking if you had lost someone. Your only response was a nod. You didn’t elaborate and I didn’t press. The pain you’re afraid of, Brooke, is real. Do you remember when I told you we all have sorrow, but how it’s worth it because of our memories of those whom we love?”
Landon paused for Brooke’s response. When she nodded her head, he added, “No one feels the way you do without great love. Your past is there waiting for you, and I want to encourage you to find out more about who you are. Do you think you can try?”
“Before you came outside, I was thinking about what you had told me. I will try.”
Landon had moved a step closer to her. Gently, he stroked the pale skin of her high cheeks. “I’ll always be here for you, Brooke, no matter what. I don’t want you to forget that.”
Her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. “I don’t know what I would have done without you these past several days. You’ve been a light in a very dark place for me. You’ve given me such happiness in a short amount of time. I hope I have been able to do the same for you.”
His hand rested on her cheek. “Words cannot describe how much joy I feel when I am in your presence.” Tenderly, he pulled her into his arms and held her, his cheek resting against the soft silkiness of her hair. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life.”
* * *
Gaston carried the tray with the coffee and desserts, setting it on the coffee table. “Shall I let them know it’s ready?”
Glancing toward the sliding glass door, all Natasha could see was the reflection of her and Gaston against the black sky outside. She reached for her husband’s hand and pulled him down on the couch with her, “No, let them be. He’s in love with her. I have begun to wonder the last few years if I would ever see him care for someone in that way.”
Pulling his wife into his arms, he held her. “It makes you happy, no?’
“It does make me happy because I like her.”
“But you are worried about something?”
Natasha rubbed Gaston’s chest, feeling the soft chambray of his light blue shi
rt. “What if she never remembers who she is, or what if it takes years? How do you love and build a relationship with someone who doesn’t even know who they are?”
“There would be challenges for sure.” Gaston pulled away from Natasha so he could peer into her eyes. “Considering what your brother has been through, I think the difficulties you allude to would be a walk in the park, would they not?”
“Mostly. What if she has a sordid past and remembering wreaks even more havoc on Landon’s life? I couldn’t bear seeing him go through more pain.”
“He is strong, mon amour. I think his attempted suicide has made it difficult for you to see that at times.”
Sighing, Natasha rested her head back down on her husband’s chest. “I hope you’re right, sweetheart. All I want is for my brother to start living.”
A few moments later they heard the sliding glass door open.
After shedding their coats, Landon and Brooke joined the couple in the living room to enjoy the rest of the evening. Having forgotten the story about how Natasha and Gaston met, the couple took pleasure in telling Brooke firsthand about the high-voltage encounter in the kitchen those seven-years ago. When Landon’s sister mentioned the way Gaston had kissed her in anger, Brooke couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to feel Landon’s lips on hers. Maybe soon she would learn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
For Brooke, the following week was a blur—a wonderful whirlwind of activity. Every free moment of Landon’s time, he spent with her. While he worked during the day, she occupied herself by doing what she came to Patagonia to do: be a photographer. Landon recommended a guide. When she insisted that she would be fine going by herself, he asked her to reconsider so that he wouldn’t be worried about her all day as she trekked across the province of Rio Negro. Touched by his concern, Brooke promised she would contact the guide.
Midweek, she was invited to have lunch with Landon and his family in the private dining room at the Grand Vue. Again, she was moved by the intimate family and their desire to be with one another. What she loved most about being with them was watching the way Isabella, Nicholas, and Landon interacted. Next to their parents, the two young children thought he hung the moon and the stars. He was very tender with them. The affection and infinite patience revealed another layer of his character to her.