Gentle Persuasion

by Cerella Sechrist

  She chose not to burden Dane with the details of her and Pele’s conversation, instead focusing on the dawn’s brilliance.

  “I wish sunrises in the city were as pure and lovely as these,” she murmured. Only after she had spoken the words did she realize it was not the most optimistic observation for the journey Dane was about to embark upon.

  “Yes,” he agreed, his voice quiet. “But I suppose they have their own magic.” He shifted slightly, and she did, too, so that they were looking at each other. “Just as I’m sure the sunrises in Paris will.”

  She looked away at this and made an attempt to memorize the exact shading of the dawn’s tones. She should go to her room, get the camera Dane had bought her and try to capture the hues so that she could remember them once she was gone. But she suddenly found this point in time, just the two of them huddled together on this patio awaiting their futures, too precious to leave.

  Ophelia didn’t know how long they stood together in silence, watching the sun stretch its fingertips farther across the plantation, breathing in the scents of flowers and dew. She wondered how it was she could feel so at ease in this place, so comfortable around Dane. She knew she couldn’t afford to explore the feeling any more deeply. They would return to New York, perhaps see each other a few times as he settled into his new position, and then she would be leaving—putting another ocean between them.

  She thought of all the things she should say to him—express her gratitude for his hospitality, extend the obligatory welcome from Towers International, offer her mother’s congratulations, wish him the best in his new career...but she said none of those things.

  She simply stood there, with him, on the lanai and didn’t speak another word as the sun brightened the day and eclipsed all other possibilities for the future.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SAYING GOODBYE WASN’T quite as difficult as Ophelia feared it would be. In fact, her entire farewell to the Okina Inn occurred in such a rush that she was hard-pressed to recall it as Cole navigated her rental car back toward the Kona airport.

  Leilani hugged her with admonitions to keep in touch. Cole made a grand show of kissing Pele’s hand, but when Ophelia took the other woman’s stubby fingers in her own, they remained limp.

  “Thank you for the delicious meals and such a wonderful introduction to Polynesian culture,” Ophelia said. Pele nodded but said nothing.

  Before anyone could notice the cool farewell, Keahi bundled her into his arms and told her to come visit again soon. She had no chance to respond as Cole grabbed her by the arm and tugged her toward the door.

  “We need to have time to return the rental car, Fee,” he reminded.

  And so, she only had a span of seconds to face Dane.

  “Call when you get to New York,” she instructed, and he nodded.

  His face was haggard, uncertain, and she suspected, as she had earlier that morning on the lanai, that he hadn’t slept at all the evening before.

  “Bianca is going to be thrilled. We couldn’t be happier.”

  She didn’t know what else to say, and her words only seemed to weigh Dane down even more.

  “O-pheeeel-ia,” Cole reminded in an impatiently singsong voice. She didn’t turn at the sound but felt the pressure to wrap up her goodbyes all the same.

  She stole a few seconds more to meet Dane’s eyes and hold them with her own. “You got this, Montgomery. Do you hear me?”

  To her relief, a corner of his mouth twitched. Almost imperceptibly but still, she saw it.

  “Have a safe flight.”

  “You, too. I’ll talk to you when you get in.”

  And then, almost without realizing it, she was in the car, with the coastal highway sliding by and the distance between her and the plantation widening with every mile.

  She and Cole spoke little on the drive to the rental return and then on the shuttle to the airport. After checking in for their flight and finding their way to the gate, they sat side by side, with Cole absorbed in his smartphone and Ophelia observing the other passengers. She felt a tug of emotion as she watched a little girl and her mother, heads drawn together in conversation. The child fingered the shells on one of the cheap necklaces such as Ophelia had seen all over the islands, and her mother seemed to be coaching her on counting them, one by one.

  Ophelia stretched her mind backward, trying to find a similar memory within the catalogs of her experiences, but she could recall nothing. The closest she had was the memory of the flight from Paris to New York, after her father’s death, and the feel of her mother’s hand holding tightly to hers as the plane took off. She glanced down at her fingers now and was startled to realize they looked quite similar to how her mother’s had appeared, that long-ago day.

  “Fee?”

  She jerked, suddenly remembering Cole beside her. He had put the smartphone away and was eyeing her with concern.

  “They called the boarding for business class.”

  “Oh.” She rummaged through her bag for her boarding pass and stood with Cole to get in line.

  When they were both settled in the plush seats with the coach passengers filing by, Cole sighed.

  “Well, I’m glad that’s over,” he announced.

  She didn’t bother to query him on what he was referring to—whether it was the assignment with Dane, the boarding of the plane or something else entirely. When she didn’t respond, he didn’t engage her further in conversation, and she closed her eyes, mentally reliving all her experiences in her brief week on the islands.

  Six hours later, they changed planes in Los Angeles, and as soon as they were in the air once more, Ophelia succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep. Some time later, she opened her eyes again and found Cole flipping through a magazine. The overhead lights were dimmed, and the plane purred quietly with the background hum of the engines.

  “What time is it?” she questioned as she straightened up and stretched her neck, working out the stiffness.

  Cole consulted his watch. “A little after midnight. But that’s Hawaiian time. I haven’t changed the time zone on my watch yet.”

  She moaned slightly as she rolled her head around her shoulders.

  “Here.”

  Cole shifted and placed his hands on her shoulders. She tensed, but he didn’t seem to notice as he began working his thumbs over the stiff muscles in her neck. As odd as it felt to have Cole touching her after all that had transpired, she soon found herself relaxing under his fingers. She allowed him to work out several of the knots before she pulled away.

  “Thank you.”

  He didn’t respond even though she sensed he had something to say. She began to lean her head back against the seat when Cole suddenly spoke up.

  “I had a lot of time to kill on the flight over.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him curiously. “It’s a long flight,” she agreed.

  His eyes darkened as he leaned in. Their faces were mere inches apart, and she frowned uncomfortably.

  “I spent most of it thinking about you.”

  She felt her own eyes widen in surprise. “You mean, my assignment with Dane?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Just you.”

  “Cole, I...I don’t understand.”

  “I guess it wasn’t just you,” he continued, “but us. The last four years. And what a great team we make.”

  She was at a loss as to how she should respond to this declaration, so she said nothing.

  “I thought, you know...it would be such a shame to lose that if you move to Paris—”

  “Paris is not negotiable, Cole. You know that.”

  “You didn’t let me finish.” His voice held a touch of irritability, though it was hushed in deference to the other passengers. “If you move to Paris...without me.”

 
She stared at him. “What are you saying?”

  He reached out and touched his fingers to her face, and she resisted the urge to pull away.

  “I want you back, Fee. And if it means moving to Paris then so be it. It would be a shame to break up our team now. Look at what we just accomplished, after all! Dane Montgomery! What other recruiting team can say that they convinced the most obstinate man in the corporate world to come back?”

  “He’s not obstinate. He just knows what makes him happy.” She prickled, wanting to point out that Cole had contributed little to convincing Dane to sign the contract. In fact, he had nearly derailed her progress. But she didn’t say so, knowing that she hadn’t really convinced Dane on her own, either. It was his situation that had compelled him to agree to the Towers deal.

  But her defense of Dane had brought Cole up short. He frowned severely at her.

  “Exactly what happened between you and Montgomery in the last week?”

  She turned away. “Nothing happened. I did exactly what my mother told me to do—I spent some time with him, got to know him, made the offer. Simple as that.”

  In her peripheral vision, she saw Cole eyeing her suspiciously. “You’ve spent a lot of time with him the last few days, though.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course I have.”

  “Fee, you couldn’t possibly have gotten...a little too wrapped up in your assignment?”

  “Cole!” She sensed the passengers behind them stirring in their seats, and she dropped her voice. “How dare you ask me such a thing! We’re not together anymore,” she said. “Remember?”

  “But that’s what I’m trying to say,” Cole whispered back. “I want to be. I want us to be together again. And...” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “I’m willing to go to Paris if it means we can be a couple.”

  “Cole...” She had adjusted to the idea of life without him—more easily than she had anticipated. When she imagined herself in Paris, he no longer fit by her side. But she also knew what it had cost Cole to come to this decision—to make the sacrifice of his own wants in order to see hers fulfilled. It was probably the most unselfish thing he had ever done, especially for her.

  “I’ve already spoken to Lillian,” he continued, “and she’s agreed to let me join you again.”

  “But...why?”

  He reached for her hand, tucking it into his. In one small corner of her mind, she recognized that his touch didn’t thrill her. Not like Dane’s had. But then again, Dane had been a new, almost-forbidden possibility. Cole was familiar. The newness had worn off. That had to be the difference.

  “Because we’re perfect together. We could turn the Paris operation into the most prestigious recruiting firm in Europe.”

  “But what about New York? I thought you didn’t want to leave.”

  “I realized that it won’t be the same without you.”

  “What won’t?”

  He released her hand, his face flickering with irritation. “Ophelia, I’m doing my best here to tell you that I want us to be together. Four years is a lot to just throw away. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

  She closed her eyes, drew a breath and tried to steady herself. The plane hit a small bump in turbulence, and she opened her eyes.

  “So you’re willing to move with me to Paris?”

  “I am.” He reached for her hand once more. “You can show me all the places you’re always talking about—the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower. What better place for us to be together than the city of love, right?”

  And without meaning to, another place popped into her mind’s eye—the Place of Refuge with its safe haven for those who were pursued or persecuted. For the span of several heartbeats, she could hear the ocean’s soft rumble against the shore, the echo of the tribal chants thudding in her chest. She shook her head to clear it, and Cole pulled back once again.

  “Is that a no?”

  “What? No. I mean, yes. I mean...” She drew a breath. “Can I have some time to think about it? I’m just feeling pretty overwhelmed right now. With everything.”

  She felt him relax beside her. “Of course, sweetheart. You take all the time you need.”

  She tried to appear grateful and hoped it came off without looking strained. She must have succeeded because Cole beamed at her.

  “I’m going to try to rest a little more,” she said.

  “Sure. Here, lay your head on my shoulder.” She shifted and leaned into Cole, though her body felt somewhat stiff in the action. It took a long time, but eventually the reverberation of the plane’s engine beneath her and the steady rhythm of Cole’s breath lulled her into a dream where she was being pursued across shark-infested waters as she attempted to reach the Place of Refuge. Her breath came in short gasps as she struggled through the choppy waves, her nose and mouth filling with the bitter tang of salt water. She couldn’t see her pursuers, but she sensed them behind her. She had an overwhelming sense of urgency to stay beyond their reach.

  Her limbs grew tired, and she felt them weighing her down as she struggled for the lava-rock-lined shore of the refuge. As she drew nearer to it, she saw her father, standing on the platform of the temple and smiling down at her. She struggled all the harder to reach it, calling out to him for help, but he continued to stand there, simply smiling and not moving.

  Her pursuers in the water drew closer, and her sense of urgency rose. She had to reach the wall. She had to get to the temple platform.

  “Help me!” she cried, and still, her father did not move.

  The predators in the water grew close—she could not see them, but she could sense them, and her panic grew. The waves washed over her head, once then twice, and she felt herself slipping under.

  They had almost reached her, her fate nearly sealed. She was just succumbing to her fatigue, ready to let the dark water and the monsters within it take her when she felt a hand encircle her wrist.

  Looking up, she saw Dane, his arm reaching out and grasping on to her as he tugged her from the waves and onto the shore.

  When she awoke, they had landed in New York.

  * * *

  OPHELIA ENTERED HER apartment, dropping her bags at the front door, and headed straight for the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. After the long hours on the plane and her conversation with Cole—along with a stilted goodbye where he attempted to kiss her lips and she offered him her cheek instead—she needed some time to gather her wits.

  She gulped the water and then refilled the glass before carrying it with her to the living room where she sank onto her plush sofa. Cole hated this sofa. She’d had it since her first apartment, and though she’d had it reupholstered in a burgundy corduroy, he still found it “tacky” in her otherwise stylish surroundings.

  But it was like an old friend, and she settled down into its embrace, clutching the glass of water in her hands, as she considered everything that had occurred in the past week.

  She replayed her memories of Hawaii, trying to recapture the scents and sights, her lips tingling as she recalled her time with Dane. Then she thought about Cole and their conversation on the plane. He said he would go with her to Paris. What more could she ask from him? He had a point, after all—four years was a lot to just throw away, especially now that he’d agreed to see things through and support her in her dream.

  It was more than she had expected from him, and despite some niggling reservations deep in her stomach, she could find no good reason to turn him down.

  Except for the memory of Dane’s kisses. And she knew that was hardly fair to Cole. Her time with Dane had been fleeting—a dream she must now lay to rest as a pleasant memory and nothing more. When Dane arrived in New York, his time and attention would no longer be hers—as if they had ever really been hers in the first place. It had just felt
that way, given the circumstances of her assignment.

  She took another long swallow of water and then placed the glass on her dark wood coffee table. She grabbed the snow globe displayed on its surface instead and then stretched out on the sofa, propping her head on one end and her feet on the other. She sank deep within the sofa’s folds as she cradled the heavy globe, studying the scene within the glass. There was a miniature Eiffel Tower suspended in the liquid, with a tiny Parisian café at its base. She tipped the entire object on its side and watched as a flurry of white flakes swirled stormily inside.

  She could relate to the internal maelstrom. Inwardly, her thoughts churned in a mad rush of decisions and possibilities: Cole, Paris, her mother, her career. And silly as it seemed, she suddenly wished that instead of a Parisian snowstorm within the glass, she could witness a swirl of sand settling along a beach with sea turtles and waves.

  * * *

  A FEW HOURS LATER, Ophelia stood before her mother’s door, a gift bag in hand. After ringing the doorbell, she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. While she normally sported a mature French twist, she had chosen to let her hair down for a change. She had become accustomed to the feel of it, sweeping against her shoulders, and she found she liked the sensation. At least she still wore the business-casual navy slacks her mother preferred to see along with a navy-and-white-striped long-sleeved shirt.

  As she heard movement behind the door, she quickly dropped her hand from her hair and straightened to the appropriate posture. The knob turned, and her mother stood in the doorway, bestowing a rare smile.

  “There you are.” She leaned forward to kiss the air by Ophelia’s left cheek and then the right before she stepped back and gestured for her daughter to enter.

  “How was your return flight?”

  Ophelia stepped over the threshold gingerly, always feeling that she had to move cautiously in her mother’s home for all the glass sculptures and crystal bowls on display. She felt her throat tightening in a familiar reaction to the heavy scents of perfume and cleaning products.