He shook his head. “Sorry. He’s in Vienna. Won’t be back till maybe November, I hear.”
Jade stiffened, cast aside the coaxing charm, became assertive. “Then I’ll speak with Dr. Nicholas Georgaide or Dr. Peter Grenovich. My good man”—she lifted her chin to give him a condescending look—“I told you that I’m only here for one day, and I have important business with one of those doctors. Now if you don’t admit me through this gate, I warn you, you’ll regret it.”
He muttered under his breath that he had other things to do besides, argue, then got up and opened the gate, motioned her inside, and went back to his cubicle.
She hurried up the driveway and entered the hospital through an archway, then heavy wooden doors.
A pinch-faced nurse in white looked up at her coolly. “Yes? May I help you? Visiting hours aren’t—”
“Till two. I know,” Jade brusquely finished for her. “I’m here to see either Dr. Georgaide or Dr. Grenovich about my brother, who was a patient here awhile back.” She went on to tell the story she’d made up on her way over, that she was visiting from France, her name was Daniella Coltrane, and she wanted to inquire about the present condition of her brother, John Travis “Colt” Coltrane.
The nurse nodded as she spoke. “Yes, I remember Mr. Coltrane—a very handsome man, very charming. Everyone here regarded him highly. You just wait here a moment, and I’m sure one of the doctors will be happy to talk to you.”
She disappeared behind a swinging door. Jade glanced about the room, noted with disinterest that it was furnished elegantly. Just being there, she realized, in the place where Colt had lain so very long, needing her, wanting her, and thinking Lorena was her, filled her with unbearable pain. And all the while she’d been so near, could have been there to see him through those anguished hours. Oh, damn Bryan, she thought with gritted teeth and clenched fists. She only hoped she could keep from him that she knew of his deception until she decided exactly what to do about it. And damn Lorena and her mother for their part, too. She looked forward to the day she would deal with them!
At last the door swung open, and the nurse introduced Dr. Grenovich.
“I think we’ll be more comfortable in my office, Miss Coltrane.” He beckoned her to follow him.
He had a kind face, compassionate blue eyes, and Jade felt at ease with him as she sat before his desk and repeated her lie about being Colt’s sister. “What I want to know, Doctor…what the family wants to know is the truth about my brother’s condition, his chances for full recovery. His wife”—she nearly choked on the word—“is rather vague.”
He leaned back in his chair, templed his fingers in contemplation. “Has she had her baby?”
Once more Jade felt a tightening in her throat. Nodding, she affirmed, “Yes. A boy.”
“That’s nice,” he murmured in the tone people use when they don’t really care but feel the need to be polite. “She was very preoccupied with her condition, as I recall.”
Jade detected a touch of sarcasm, did not have time to dwell on it, for he went on to say that he was glad to finally hear from some of Colt’s family.
“How is he really, Doctor? He says he still has dizzy spells, headaches—”
“I told Colt that comes from trying too hard to remember,” the doctor interjected tersely, frowning. “He should just relax, not think about the past but concentrate on the present—the future—and maybe one day it will all come back.”
“Will it?” she anxiously asked.
“Who can say?” He shrugged apologetically. “Sadly, we know so little about these things. All I can tell you is that your brother took a very hard blow to his head. He’s lucky even to be alive. The injury may or may not be permanent, but either way I see no reason to be concerned about his overall physical condition. As I told Mrs. Coltrane, the main thing is that he stay calm and relaxed, so that if there is some pressure inside we don’t know about, it won’t be aggravated.”
Jade tensed. “Pressure…?”
Again he shrugged apologetically. “As I said, we just don’t know much about head injuries. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more.”
She bowed her head, closed her eyes lest he see the distress surely mirrored there. “Are you telling me, then, that my…brother should be kept calm, should not hear any news that might upset him?”
“If possible.” He regarded her curiously. “Why? Is there some disturbing family news you feel the need to tell him? An illness…a death?” he asked hesitantly.
She shook her head, then got up to go, afraid that she was going to burst into tears any second.
He walked with her, back down the long hallway to the front doors, again assured her there was a possibility Colt could regain his full memory but warned, “Frankly, the longer he’s like this, the less we expect a change. Just tell your family to be grateful he’s even alive.”
She murmured her appreciation for his time, was about to step outside when he suddenly asked, “By the way, do you have a sister?”
“No.”
“And you say your name is Daniella?” he murmured thoughtfully.
She tensed, nodded.
“Strange.”
“Why?”
“Oh,” he said offhandedly, as though it really didn’t matter, “I seem to recall that when your brother was comatose, he kept calling the name Jade.”
Her blood ran cold. She sucked in her breath, stood before him paralyzed with anguish to envision such a pitiful scene.
“I asked Mrs. Coltrane who that was,” the doctor went on, “and she said it was his sister. Oh, well.” He brushed away the curious thought. “I must’ve been mistaken. Have a pleasant trip home, and if I can ever help you, let me know.”
He shook her hand, and if he noticed it was as cold as ice and trembling, he said nothing and went back inside.
Jade hurried on down the driveway, lost in thought…lost in hate and resentment for everything and everyone who had caused such misery in her life…and the life of the man she loved with all her heart.
She might not be able to risk telling Colt the truth, but one thing she vehemently vowed: she was not going to give him up without a fight.
It was better, she swore, to be his lover, his mistress, anything, than to lose him again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jade counted the hours and minutes until her rendezvous with Colt in Central Park on Friday.
She had been bicycling only a quarter of an hour when she saw him, and her heart skipped a beat. He was leaning against a fountain, bicycle propped against a nearby tree, and as she rode toward him, his face lit up as though struck by a sunbeam. Grateful no one was about, Jade parked her bicycle and forced herself to slowly saunter toward the fountain, as though merely taking a rest from riding, not to meet him.
They stood a few yards apart, darting glances about to make sure no one else was around.
Colt stared toward the water flowing from the vase that a fat bronze cherub held over the fountain. “God, how I’ve waited for this moment,” he whispered raggedly.
Jade swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Oh, Colt, you don’t know how much I love you.”
“Why?” He closed his eyes against the fierce inner turmoil. “Why in God’s name did I ever leave you? I can’t imagine a time when I didn’t love you. Tell me, Jade, please. It’s driving me crazy. What happened to us?”
“I wish I could,” she said. “But too many people are involved now, Colt. Let’s just be thankful we found each other again.”
“Thankful?” He scornfully chuckled. “Thankful to be tortured by not being able to remember how I could ever have been so foolish as to let you go? Now I know why I don’t feel anything for my wife. I never got over you, Jade. I never will. And I don’t even remember loving you.” He shook his head in misery.
God alone knew how desperately Jade wanted to tell him the truth. Instead, she told him the only story she’d managed to conjure up that he might accept. “Colt, we had a
bitter fight. We broke up. A long time ago. We went our separate ways, and now we’ve found each other again, but there’s nothing we can do about it except grab what moments together we can.”
“I don’t want to just settle for an illicit affair,” he said wretchedly.
“Do we have any options? Are you prepared to leave your wife, your newborn son?”
He did not flinch as he firmly declared, “Yes, I am. And I’ll see to it Andy grows up knowing me, loving me, just as I love him, but I have no qualms whatsoever about leaving Lorena.” He gave another bitter chuckle. “Frankly, I don’t think she’d even care.”
He walked toward her, no longer cautious, for he felt the sudden need to touch her, hold her. He gripped her arms and made her look up into his distraught eyes. “I had a dream, Jade…a dream about us. And it was like seeing a play, with me and you as the stars. You were dancing—a ballet. So many people were watching you, admiring you, applauding. The theater was beautiful, decorated in blue and gold.”
She bit down on her lip to hold back tears as she listened to him describe the magnificent Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg. He was having a flashback, and, she wondered in desperate hope whether it was a sign his memory might be returning. She dared not speak, knew it best to let him continue, to spin out the cobwebs of his memory.
“I walked down the center aisle toward you as though in a trance. I was hypnotized by your beauty. I gave you a rose…and a ring was tied to the stem and—” He froze, eyes wide as he stared down at her hands, focusing on the pearl and emerald ring on her right hand—the ring his mother had given to her on their wedding day.
He said in wonder, “But it wasn’t this ring. This ring…” he repeated, awed. “Something about this ring…” His eyes narrowed. He dropped her hand, turned to lower himself to sit on the fountain wall as he shook his head, pressed his fingertips to his temples.
“Colt, are you all right?” Jade asked anxiously. “Please, don’t press yourself to remember.”
“Where did you get that ring?”
She saw no harm in telling him. “Your mother gave it to me.”
“Of course.” He grinned up at her. “That’s why I remember it, but I don’t remember her,” he added sadly. He went on to admit that was why he let Lorena take care of all the correspondence with his family, because it would be difficult to write to people he didn’t know; he was afraid they’d sense something was wrong and he wanted to keep them from worrying. Lorena had told him his father was not in good health, that his sister had been in a very delicate condition. It was best no one know of his situation as it would serve no useful purpose.
“See? I’m remembering a little. So tell me, did I walk down the aisle of a grand theater and give you a ring?”
“You did.” She let out her breath in a soft sigh. “We were engaged.”
He straightened, took her hand. “One day I’m going to remember everything, and when I do, I’ve got a feeling I’ll have all the answers I need to straighten out the mess I’ve made, of my life. Till then, I guess you’re right. We’ve got to be grateful for what we have.”
He led her to a clump of thick shrubs, pushed aside leafy branches to move to a small clearing within. There he put his arms around her and kissed her till they were both breathless and shaken. When he finally released her, he demanded, “Tell me when we can meet again, somewhere private, where we can really be together the way we want to be, have to be.”
“It’s taking such a chance.”
“I don’t give a damn,” he snapped angrily. “We’ve got to find a way to see each other, Jade. I’m not giving you up. How many times must I tell you that? Now, I may be suffering from amnesia, but I’m not retarded, and I’m not going to put up with this mystery much longer. Something, I don’t know what, is keeping you from telling me everything, and I’m trying to be patient, give you time to work out whatever it is within yourself, but I can’t—won’t—go on like this much longer. If you love me—”
“Oh, God, how I love you!” she cried, flinging herself against him. “My studio. We can meet there.”
“When?”
Jade’s mind feverishly raced ahead. Bryan was due home sometime during the weekend, but she wasn’t sure exactly when. “Telephone me Saturday around noon at my studio. If Bryan hasn’t come back from Philadelphia, I’ll be there to answer, and you’ll know to meet me there at eight that night. If I don’t answer, then you’ll know he is back and I can’t get away.”
“So then when will I see you?”
“You would have to call me Monday morning, and we’d try to arrange something then.”
He pulled her tighter against him, and she felt the hardness of his desire, felt her own hunger stirring, knew she had to pull away or she’d give in and succumb to the longing, no matter that they were in the middle of Central Park.
She kissed him one more time, whispered, “Saturday,” then reluctantly stepped from the bushes. Glancing about, satisfied no one was around, she went to her bicycle, mounted, and rode away.
Colt waited a few moments, then made his own way out.
Neither of them saw the woman step from behind the thick trunk of a tree next to their sanctuary.
Smiling in malicious triumph, Lita mounted the bicycle Bryan had bought her so she could follow Jade, and pedaled after her.
Jade gave thanks for two blessings that Saturday when she left for the studio: so far Bryan had not returned and now she did not look for him till Sunday, and Lita was nowhere around.
She arrived at the studio close to eleven and decided to work out at the barre for a while. After a half hour of that, she began to practice some basic steps she would be teaching beginners.
Lost in her own private world of her beloved dance, Jade did not hear the door open, did not know anyone was present until she heard a disdainful snort and stopped her whirling to stare, agape, at Triesta Vordane.
She was wearing a dark brown jacket over a light brown dress. Her hat was wide and covered in black netting and framed her hard-featured face. With a sneer, she scoffed, “Well, now, what do you call that, little miss prima ballerina—the dance of a whore?”
Jade had been up on her toes but came down with an ungraceful bounce. Her eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”
“I asked if that is called the dance of a whore.” She smiled with mock innocence. “That is what they call women like you, isn’t it? A whore? Or maybe you prefer to be called trollop, or Jezebel. My, my, you hussies go by so many names, don’t you? And don’t play innocent with me. I know you’ve been sneaking around meeting Colt.”
“All right, Triesta,” Jade said coldly, bristling with anger. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m glad you are, because you saved me another trip to your house.”
“Really?” Triesta raised an eyebrow, unruffled. “I thought I made it clear I don’t want you at my house!”
“I want to know why you and your daughter lied to Colt, why you let him think he was married to her—married in Paris, for God’s sake—when he was already married to me and didn’t even know her!”
Triesta’s expression of haughty amusement did not waver. “Don’t concern yourself with anything in the past, my dear. What you do need to be worried about is, your present situation, and what you’re going to do when your husband finds out you’re having a sordid affair with my son-in-law.”
“You crazy old fool!” Jade screeched, aghast at her audacity. “Colt isn’t your son-in-law, and you know it. So how can I be having an affair with my own husband?”
Triesta smirked. “Having two husbands is not legal.”
“You’re a good one to talk about legalities. Your daughter has an illegitimate baby, for God’s sake!”
For the first time, Triesta struggled for composure and snapped, “Don’t you dare say such a thing.” She took a menacing step forward, but Jade did not retreat, so she moved no farther. “I came here to tell you to get out of Colt’s life, or not only am I going to tell B
ryan Stevens what a whore his wife is, I’m going to tell everyone else. You’ll be ruined.”
Jade didn’t like that threat but countered with one of her own. “Do that. And I’ll tell Colt everything.”
Triesta’s laugh was forced, and she nervously sputtered, “Why—why, you wouldn’t dare. Are you so stupid as to think he’d believe you? That he would leave his wife and son for you?”
“Lorena is not his wife!” Jade sharply reminded her. “And what about the Coltranes? What have they been told? They were at Colt’s real wedding, you know, his wedding to me! And they sure as hell know it wasn’t in Paris, to Lorena!”
Now Triesta’s laughter was genuine, ringing with triumph. “Why, my dear, the Coltranes think you’re alive and well. They’ve no reason to think otherwise, because Lorena signs her letters to them as you. Since Colt never sees the mail and hears only what we care to tell him, he doesn’t know, and neither do they.”
Jade shook her head in wonder. “You are truly mad!”
Triesta’s grin faded, and the angry mask descended once more. “No, I’m not mad. I’ve thought of every detail, and you aren’t going to spoil it. Your showing up alive is a misfortune I hadn’t counted on, but it’s a trivial matter, because you’re going to get out of Colt’s life. You are going to firmly tell him you cannot see him again—and you won’t—or believe me, Jade, I will tell Bryan—and everyone else.”
“Why did you do this to him?” Jade asked.
“I had my reasons.”
“I want to hear them!”
“And I told you not to concern yourself with anything except staying away from Colt. Leave him alone. Leave all of us alone, or I promise you, you’re going to be sorry.”
Jade was undaunted. Defiantly she said, “I’m going to talk to Lorena and hear her side of the story. She talked to me on the ship, told me how you were making her return with you against her will, how you followed her all the way to Europe, hiring two ruffians to go with you to beat up the man she ran away with—the man she did love and wanted to marry.”
Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 Page 30