by Pia Tremayne
“Oh well,” Erica said philosophically, summing it all up in two words. Once again, Nicola envied Erica’s ability to take everything in stride.
By nine thirty she was back at the flat and a few minutes later her mobile buzzed. It was Em.
“Just calling to see how you’re doing. We haven’t spoken in almost a month.”
She felt a little stab of guilt. Em was alone, running the place as best she could and probably felt lonely at times. Their parents had only been gone four months. She really shouldn’t let so much time go by without calling.
“I’m sorry, Em. The job’s been really keeping me busy this last month, but I think things will get back to normal now. Did you get the money orders I sent?”
“Yes, I did. But I’m afraid I have bad news. The finance company has called in the loan.”
“Oh no! When?”
“They sent the letter last week. I hate to worry you, Nicola. I know how hard you’re working. I’ve been cutting corners and cutting corners, and there aren’t any more corners left to cut. We’re just sliding deeper into debt every month. And every time the phone rings, I hate to answer it because I’m sure it will be the finance company.”
“It won’t be,” Nicola said, with an assurance she did not feel. “They’ll send at least two more warning letters, each one more insistent than the last, before they really do anything.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“Nothing, for the moment. We’ll have to get another extension, but I’ll probably have to do it in person.”
Even though she was one year older, Em would be hopeless at that sort of thing. “Does that mean you’re coming home soon? Will you be able to get the time off?”
“Probably. Much as I hate having to ask, but I think my boss will understand.”
Privately, she wasn’t so sure. She’d only been working for Henrietta for two months, but what choice did she have? If she worked it so that she would be away during the Christmas break, it might not look so bad to be asking for time off so soon.
Henrietta was very understanding. “Of course you must go,” she said. “In any case, we usually close for the Christmas break. I’m going away myself for two weeks. I’ll be gone from the eve of Christmas Eve to the end of the first week of January. There will be very little for you to do while I’m gone. And, of course, you will be paid for the statutory holidays.”
Relieved, Nicola got on the computer to book her flight. Never mind that booking at this eleventh hour she had to fly first class because all the economy seats had been sold out long ago. This was enough of an emergency to warrant the expense. If she could persuade the loan officer at the finance company to give them another extension it would have been worth it.
Chapter Twenty
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she heard Em say, and she opened her eyes cautiously, watching Em’s slight figure as she walked over to the windows and threw them wide open. “Ummm.” Emma inhaled deeply. “Can you smell that? Everything looks and smells so fresh after a storm like that.”
“There was a storm?”
“Yes, but you were dead to the world.”
“Well, thanks for closing my window. What time is it?” she asked.
“Almost two o’clock. You’re missing the best part of the day.”
“Well, this is Jamaica, you know. There’ll be three hundred and sixty-four more days exactly like this one. I can guarantee it.”
Emma laughed. “I know that, silly. But you will only have twenty of them. So sit up. I’ve brought you a tray, and I’m going to sit here on the bed and chat while you eat. Then maybe we can go for a walk.” She picked up the tray from the dresser where she had rested it and brought it over to the bed.
Nicola sat up obediently, pulling the sheet over her breasts. “It looks delicious,” she said, as Emma put the tray over her legs and uncovered a steaming plate of scrambled eggs. “Are they from our hens?” she asked eagerly. Like many tropical farmers, regardless of crop, the Edgerton had always raised chickens and some livestock, enough to meet their personal needs.
“Yes, they are. Guaranteed fresh from corn-fed birds,” she said, quoting a local egg farm ad and smiling. “I don’t know where we’d be without Ben,” she added. “He only works for us part-time now, you know. He takes care of the stables on the Torres estate.”
“Where you boarded out Sailor,” Nicola said wistfully. “I know we can’t afford it, but I just wish there had been some way to keep him in our own stables, Em.”
“It didn’t make sense for us to go the expense and trouble of maintaining the stables, Nicki. After Mum and Dad died, there was no one to ride their horses. I never cared that much about horseback riding, so I sold them to the Torres stables, and you know Sailor’s happier there with lots of friends around.”
“I know.” Nicola sighed. “But I’m going over there to ride him as soon as I get dressed.” She paused, as another thought struck her. “Wasn’t the Torres house closed up when the evil Felipe died?”
“You’re incorrigible,” Em said, looking at her with mock severity. “Felipe Torres was not evil. The few times I did happen to see him he was always very civil to me. He just preferred to keep to himself, I think. Wealthy men tend to be suspicious of people who want to be too friendly, and it makes some of them become very reclusive.”
“Oh Em,” Nicola said, somewhat impatiently. “You defend everybody. So who’s living there now?” she asked, turning back to the subject. “Did someone buy the place?”
“Actually, it wasn’t up for sale. It’s a really interesting story. Apparently, Felipe had a natural son, whom he never acknowledged, in spite of the fact that he had no other family. “
“Felipe came to Jamaica from Brazil on his own as a young man, didn’t he?” Nicola interrupted.
“I believe so, although I don’t know that for a fact. He’s always kept to himself and seemed to be completely taken up with his business. He lived and breathed that estate. There are people like that, completely driven.
“Anyway,” Emma continued, getting back to the thread of her story, “according to the grapevine Felipe never acknowledged his son, never even so much as spoke to him, and yet he left everything to his son in his will. Apparently, he had no use for politicians and wanted to make sure the government never got its hands on a single penny of his fortune, and the way I understand it, they might have gotten most of it if he hadn’t left a will. That’s the story anyway.”
“So we have a rich, young neighbor,” Nicola said, her eyes twinkling as she looked at Emma. “Have you seen him? If he’s good-looking I say we try to snag him for you.”
Emma’s face turned scarlet. “Nicola!” she remonstrated. “As a matter of fact,” she said, her color receding, “a few days after the crash he did come over to express his sympathy and asked if there was anything he could do.”
“And?”
“And, I thanked him, offered him tea, which he graciously declined, and then he left.”
“Wasted opportunity,” Nicola remarked, and filled her mouth with the last of the scrambled eggs.
“I’m going to ignore that,” Emma said. “Hurry up and have your bath, and when you come down, we’ll walk over to the Torres stables. Let’s cut through the fields instead of taking the jeep. It’s such a perfect day.” Nicola smiled. There was nothing she would have liked better.
Happy to see her smile, Emma stood up and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll take the tray if you’re finished,” she said. “Bring the cup with you when you come down. And don’t fall asleep again, lazybones, or you’ll have trouble sleeping tonight,” she warned as she backed out of the door, carrying the tray.
Nicola got out of bed and went into the bathroom. She turned on the faucets and as soon as the tub was full, got in. Almost immediately, the warm water lapping her sex and kissing her clitoris made her think of him, how he had teased her so gently with his tongue, stroking her and sucking her and playing with her. Oh God, she thou
ght yearningly, she would give anything to feel him hot and hard and urgent inside her, softening her bones, turning her into mush. The need to be with him cut into her so fiercely she drew her knees up, clenching her arms around them, pressing her breasts into them, her hair hanging down like strands of seaweed around her bowed head. She drew a deep shuddering breath, remembering that he didn’t want her and wondering how she could possibly survive such a calamity. A small sob escaped her and she pinched her nose hard to make herself stop. She heard Emma’s voice, like a lifeline, calling on her to hurry downstairs and she got out of the tub and began to dry herself. She pulled on a white T-shirt and olive green jodhpurs, and ran downstairs.
They took the short cut to the Torres stables, along the little dirt road that ran through the fields. The mid-afternoon sun blazed down brightly wherever it could and Nicola lifted her face blissfully to its warmth. She was in her natural element here. Her eyes surveyed the land critically, noting the patches of overgrown brush here, a dead tree or fallen branch there, evidence that since her father’s death, Ben had slacked off. But they were still paying him part-time to take care of things, she thought. Feeling the pride and responsibility of ownership experienced only by the true lover of the land, she made a mental note to remind Ben what he was being paid for, since obviously Emma wasn’t up to it.
“You should have worn a hat.” Emma frowned, observing her flushed face. “You’ll get sunstroke.”
“Never!” Nicola laughed. “I want to feel the sun on my head, Em. It feels absolutely heavenly.” Her eyes absorbed the deep and vibrant green of the tropical foliage that marched down on them from either side of the path. She looked up, shading her eyes against the sun, drinking in the beauty of the large immortelle and samaan trees that provided shade for the coffee trees. She hurt with the loveliness of it all and deep in her heart she reaffirmed her vow passionately. Never, never, would she give up this land no matter what it cost to hold on to it.
After about a fifteen-minute walk, they reached the Torres stables, slipped under the fence, and walked around to the front of the stalls. Everything was clean and orderly, and as she passed by each stall, she stroked the horses, patting them with fond little murmurs. A horse whinnied softly, and she ran to the next stall, recognizing the sound.
“Sailor,” she cried, throwing her arms around the horse’s neck. Her eyes grew misty as the horse rubbed his long nose affectionately along her arm. “Good boy,” she murmured softly. “I’ve missed you so, Sailor. Good boy!”
“Good afternoon, Miss Emma,” she heard a man say.
“Hello, Ben,” Emma replied. “Miss Nicola is home from England for the holidays, and we’ve come over to see Sailor. She’s dying to ride him.”
“Welcome home, Miss Nicola,” Ben said.
“Thank you, Ben,” she said. “I’d like to ride Sailor this morning, if you would be kind enough to saddle him up.”
“I’d advise against it, Miss Nicola. He hasn’t been himself lately. Off his feed for one thing. He should be right as rain tomorrow, though, as long as you don’t ride him too hard.”
Nicola hesitated, disappointed. But one thing she knew about Ben. He was good with the horses, with all the animals, in fact, almost as though he had a sixth sense that they understood. If he said Sailor shouldn’t be ridden today, she was willing to accept that. She swallowed her disappointment.
“Okay,” she said. “Tomorrow then. Bye, boy,” she whispered, patting the horse affectionately.
“That’s too bad,” Em said consolingly. “But never mind, Nicola. I’d just as soon have a nice stroll and chat. Thanks, Ben,” she said to him as they moved off.
“Bye, Miss Emma. ’Til tomorrow then, Miss Nicola,” he called after her.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next day was the eve of Christmas Eve, and she helped Emma all day preparing boxes of food that the church people would collect and distribute to the poor. Their mother had instilled in them the philosophy that no matter how poor a person was, there was always someone poorer, so Emma had decided that regardless of their changed circumstances, there was no question of whether they could afford to do the boxes this year or not.
“You go ahead,” she said, seeing that Nicola was itching to get away. “I can finish up. I can see you’re dying to get out and it’s getting late.”
“I’ll help some more when I get back,” she promised. She dashed upstairs, showered, donned the same riding outfit she had worn yesterday and drove over to the stables. She didn’t mind walking, but she couldn’t wait to get on her horse again.
She parked the Jeep under a grove of coconut trees, looking up automatically to assess whether there were any coconuts ripe enough to drop and damage the Jeep. The vehicle parts were expensive, and the last thing they needed was another bill.
“There is nothing to be concerned about,” someone said, and she turned around in surprise to see a young man walking toward her. “It is completely safe. The coconuts are green.” His English was perfect, but his voice held a pronounced Spanish accent. He approached her smiling, and she had an uncanny feeling that she knew him from somewhere. He was tall, maybe an inch or two shy of six feet, with a full head of dark curly hair cut short and fashionably moussed at the crown, dark eyes and gleaming white teeth in his healthily tanned face. He was wearing a white polo shirt, khakis, and boots. There was an expensive-looking watch on his left wrist and a heavy gold man’s ID bracelet on his right. Everything about him screamed rich playboy.
“I hope I didn’t startle you too much. I am Antonio Mendoza Torres,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Oh,” Nicola exclaimed. The new neighbor. She had the grace to blush, recalling her flippant comment about snagging him for Emma. If only!
“How nice to meet you. I’m Nicola Edgerton,” she said warmly. She extended her hand, and he took it, conveying it to his lips and holding it there for a fraction of a second before releasing it. Her color deepened, and she suppressed the urge to rub the spot his lips had touched against the back of her jodhpurs. It tingled somehow and induced a slight feeling of discomfort.
“I know,” he replied. “Ben told me you were coming over to ride your horse, so I thought I should take the opportunity to meet you.”
“I’m glad you did,” Nicola replied, remembering her manners. “I would have called on you in any event, but now that we have met I must tell you how grateful I am to you for allowing Sailor to be boarded in your stables.”
“It is nothing,” he replied graciously. “Let us not even speak of something so trivial. Tell me,” he said, changing the subject, “may I ask how far you plan to ride today?”
“Not all that far,” Nicola replied. “I might just follow the river bank for a while. All told, I’ll probably be back in about an hour. Why?”
“I wondered if you would do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you. It is very seldom that I am fortunate enough to find such a charming and lovely riding companion.”
Nicola hesitated for a moment. She had really been looking forward to her solitude, to just enjoying the scenery, the lush vegetation, being on her beloved Sailor again, without having to make conversation, especially not with a total stranger.
“How can I say no?” she said, smiling at him.
It was a glorious day for a ride. They took their time, giving the horses their head and chatting desultorily as they meandered off the beaten path, seeking protection from the blistering sun in the shade of the dense bamboo. Every now and then she would rein in Sailor, needing a moment to stand still and drink in the spectacular coastline some twenty miles away and the magnificent Blue Mountain peak to the east. A shadow crossed her face as she thought of her parents, and for a few seconds, the peak seemed to shimmer in a watery haze.
Antonio glanced at her and then reached across and gently pressed her hand as it lay still, holding the reins loosely. “Whenever you think of them, you will only see them as the vibrant and beautiful people they were, Nicola. They
will never have to endure growing old,” he said gently.
She turned to him, surprised that he had discerned her emotions so easily. She nodded. “That’s a nice way to look at it, Antonio. Thank you,” she said huskily. “Okay, boy,” she said to Sailor, patting his neck.
Sensing they were homeward bound the horse’s ears pricked up, and he set off at a brisk pace. They got back to the stables just before dark and Ben was waiting to lock up for the night.
“If you wish, I can follow you home in my car, to be certain that you arrive safely,” Antonio said courteously.
“Oh, thank you, but no,” Nicola said. “That won’t be necessary. It’s barely a two-minute drive. I’ll be perfectly all right.”
“Very well. All the same, I will telephone in ten minutes to make sure that you are safe.”
Nicola smiled. He really was quite charming. He would be perfect for Emma. “Merry Christmas, Antonio,” she said, extending her hand.
“And to you, Nicola. Will you be spending it at home?”
“Oh yes. Just Emma and me. I’m really quite looking forward to it. What about you.”
An indecipherable expression crossed his features for a brief instant. Then he smiled. “I, too, will spend it at home.”
“Oh.” It sounded lonely, but she didn’t feel she knew him well enough to pry. “Well,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, “I guess I’d better be going.” She got in the Jeep and gave him a friendly wave as she drove away.
As she pulled into the driveway, Emma came out onto the porch.
“There you are,” she said, relief evident in her voice. “I was almost beginning to worry. Did you have a nice ride?”