Baldwin, Barbara - Indigo Bay.txt

by Indigo Bay (lit)

  occupied.”

  “Two rooms—I thought you said everyone was out?” Mica

  didn’t want to be responsible for others during a storm.

  “The Barkers refused to leave, even though their time is

  up. Said they couldn’t get a flight out because of the storm, so

  they would just have to ride it out here.”

  “Oh, great. I suppose they’re hoping the storm blows the

  place down so it’ll be easier to search for their treasure.”

  Anna laughed with her, though Mica was hardly kidding.

  “Who else?” she asked.

  “The professor’s reservations aren’t up for another week,

  so he said he’d be glad to stay and keep me and the Barkers

  company.”

  Mica thought she detected a blush on Anna’s cheeks and

  wondered if she had an infatuation for the gray-haired professor.

  “Well, I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it now.

  Until a couple of hours ago, I really thought this storm would

  leave us alone. As long as our guests stay out of the way and

  observe the rules, we should be all right. After all, Sea Crest

  has weathered storms before. You have reviewed the rules with

  them, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.” Anna ticked them off on her fingers, ”Stay

  on the main floor away from the windows, leave the TV and

  radio turned to the weather channel, and ration food and water.”

  “Good. I’ll leave you to see to our guests. I need to make

  sure all is secure in my apartment.” Using that excuse, Mica

  hurried down the hall. She must get the gold upstairs before

  the weather worsened.

  She dumped her aunt’s jewelry from a small wooden chest

  onto the bed. Flipping open the latches on her briefcase, she

  began unrolling the gold American Eagles and dumping them

  into the box. Regardless of whether paper would time travel,

  she didn’t want Logan to see the telltale signs of modern

  investment brokers.

  Mica clicked the latch shut on the small box. She left her

  apartment through the French doors, rounded the house through

  the gardens and reentered in the kitchen. Since the guests had

  all been instructed to remain on the main floor, she hoped they

  wouldn’t detect her movement towards the stairs. The rain had

  slowed to a drizzle, but the wind had picked up. She crossed

  her fingers, hoping the outside noise would cover her footsteps.

  As quietly as possible, she slipped around the corner and

  sped up the stairs two at a time. She didn’t hesitate, but fit the

  key in the lock and turned it, then she stepped through and

  closed the door behind her. The unmistakable scent of beeswax

  candles greeted her, and she wondered how she had ever thought

  Indigo Bay was a simple extension of the existing bed and

  breakfast.

  The gold clinked as she shifted the box to her other arm.

  The individual coins were small, but they were heavy when

  you put a bunch of them together. Determined to leave her

  present for Logan and be gone as fast as possible, she tiptoed

  down the hall. She had almost reached the study when she

  detected angry voices from beyond the partly open door.

  “I want what’s due me! My father and I were stuck on this

  stinking piece of dirt while you partied away your time up

  North, attending balls and seducing all the women you could

  find. How do you think I felt when I learned the will was entailed

  and all my hard work was for nothing?”

  Neil’s voice rose in anger, and Mica feared he might try to

  harm Logan. She crept closer, trying to see around the corner

  of the door without being spotted.

  “You could hardly categorize as work what you and your

  father did to this island,” Logan snorted. “If you had been in

  control much longer, there would be nothing left.”

  There was a pause, and Mica longed to see Logan’s face.

  Before she could move, he continued the discussion.

  “I told you no more, Neil. If you can’t make a contribution

  to this island and its inhabitants, I refuse to give you any more

  money to squander at the gambling tables.”

  Logan’s voice held more exasperation than anger, and

  Mica’s heart when out to him. Neil could be her ex-husband’s

  twin.

  “If you think I’m going to work side-by-side with darkies,

  think again. There are other ways to insure I get what I deserve.”

  Mica felt guilty listening to their private conversation and

  she decided to leave the box in Logan’s bedroom. He must

  have seen her shadow on the wall, however, for he called to

  her as she turned.

  “Michaela Marie, what are you doing here? It isn’t midnight

  and the witching hour yet,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice.

  His face came into view when she stepped inside the

  doorway and stopped. His brown eyes flashed with fury and

  he looked as though he would throttle her.

  “Did you come back, like Neil, in hopes I have to sign

  over the island because my crops failed and I’m unable to pay

  my debts?” He stood magnificently proud and stubborn. His

  hair was tousled, as though he’d been out in the wind. His

  white linen shirt clung to the contours of his work-hardened

  chest.

  She couldn’t blame him for being angry with her. She had

  made a habit of disappearing. Still, he didn’t have to be quite

  so rude, not after everything they had shared.

  With deliberate strides, she walked to his desk. The gold

  jingled as she thunked the wooden chest onto the desk and slid

  it across the smooth surface close to where his hands rested. “I

  came back to help, like I said I would.”

  “You said many things, and some were far from believable.

  I don’t know whether to trust your word—on any of it.” His

  gaze locked with hers, and she recognized his hurt because of

  her deception. His eyes, always portraying hope and laughter,

  were now were full of betrayal and cynicism.

  She had told him she loved him, but she couldn’t stay. She

  had tried to warn him, but that didn’t make her sneaking out

  on him right, and she knew it.

  She gestured towards the box. “This will help, in case—”

  “I don’t need your help.” He bit out the words, making no

  move to open the box. He straightened to his full height, his

  whole body offended by her gesture. His gaze flickered from

  her to Neil. “Regardless of what you both might think, I can

  take care of my own.”

  He turned back to her. “I don’t need your charity. The

  auction was held over a week ago. Though skeptical, most of

  the buyers trust the Indigo Bay name enough they still bought

  our dye. The price was only slightly lower than last year.”

  “Oh, Logan, I’m happy for you, I really am.” Tears misted

  her vision. His posture rejected both her money and her, and

  she knew his stubborn pride would prevent him from accepting

  her gift.

  Neil moved closer to the desk, his green eyes flashing with

  defiance. “This is all very touching, but it doesn’t
solve my

  problem.” He reached for the box. “If your pride won’t allow

  you to accept this lovely lady’s money, I most certainly have

  no such scruples.”

  With a flick of his wrist, he flipped open the box. “Holy

  jumping mother of Moses! It’s full of gold!” He grabbed for

  the glittering coins, only to have his wrist clinched by Logan.

  “Get out, Neil.” Logan spoke harshly, but his penetrating

  gaze never left Mica’s face. She paled, unable to understand

  the emotions that washed across his features. “Leave the island

  today, and don’t return until you’re willing to work.”

  He released his grip on Neil’s wrist, thrusting him away as

  he had the broken pieces of indigo.

  Neil bristled, his gaze still on the gold. “There must be

  thousands there. You don’t need it. You have your precious

  island,” he sneered, his voice full of hate.

  Logan slammed the lid shut. “Out!”

  Neil backed slowly towards the door. “You can’t have it

  all, Brother. Never fear, I will be back.” He roughly shoved

  Mica aside, storming down the hallway.

  Deadly silence spoke louder than words as Logan stared

  across the width of the room. When Mica could stand it no

  longer, she reached out a hand, pleading with her gaze that he

  understand her motives—both in leaving and giving him the

  gold.

  “Logan?”

  “I don’t need your gold, Michaela. I need you.” Angry

  strides brought him right in front of her, and she stepped back.

  “I need you here beside me, day in and day out, to share my

  life and happiness. Can you do that? Or will I wake up one

  morning and find you gone again?”

  She gasped when he grabbed her upper arms and dragged

  her into an embrace. Before she could answer his questions,

  he kissed her. But instead of passion, his kiss was full of anger

  and hunger and desperation. She clung to him, answering his

  need with her own.

  When he finally released her, she wept against his shoulder.

  This had been her reason for not wanting to see him.

  “I have to go,” she whispered brokenly.

  His hands dropped to his sides, his breath soft and warm

  against her temple. “I love you, Michaela Marie. Does that

  count for naught?”

  “I’m not what you need,” she said, sobbing even as she

  backed towards the door.

  “But you’re all I’ll ever want.” He turned his back on her,

  and Mica knew he was giving her a choice. He wouldn’t stop

  her this time, and he wouldn’t beg her to stay.

  With a sob, she turned and fled.

  ***

  Mica stood at the edge of the beach. She should be inside,

  but everything had been done that could be done. The shutters

  were up, food stored, lamps and flashlights available should

  Hurricane Charley not go out to sea as predicted.

  The wind had picked up considerably, tossing rain and sea

  mist against her. She didn’t notice, because the moisture mixed

  with the tears that slid silently down her face.

  She turned and glanced down the beach. Apparently other

  people on the island also thought Charley would veer away.

  Quite a few lights flickered from the many homes on the

  waterfront—homes she no longer thought of as part of Logan’s

  Indigo Bay.

  Pieces of litter blew against her legs. She yelled out angrily,

  “Why are you trying to destroy Logan’s island?” The wind

  provided no answer to her fury.

  She hugged herself against the bits of blowing sand, her

  tears obscuring the rolling clouds and black horizon. How could

  her life have changed so radically in such a short time? Could

  she honestly go back to Charleston and resume her life? She

  laughed, a mirthless echo against the strengthening wind.

  Her life seemed only to have begun with Logan. He had

  shown her the marvels of unspoiled beauty, hard work and love.

  He had opened her eyes to the wonders shared by two people

  working towards a common goal.

  If she returned to Charleston, Logan would be lost to her

  forever. He said he wanted her—her love, her undivided

  attention—not her money or any other material thing she had

  to offer. It had been heartbreaking to leave him, his stiff back

  turned to her, not in rejection, but in affirmation of her right to

  choose. She loved him all the more for allowing her that right,

  though she wished it could be otherwise. Could she go to him

  now, only for the weekend, and not want to stay wrapped in

  his arms forever?

  She clutched the key she wore—the talisman to her dreams.

  “What should I do? How am I to live without him?” Her cries

  of anguish faded into the coming night, and her tears mingled

  with the salt spray from the breakers.

  The wind answered this time, for above the thunder of ocean

  and storm, she heard the sweet melody of a waltz. Compelling

  and exotic, it beckoned her. She began to run, realizing at last

  that she really had no choice. The decision had been made more

  than a century before. With each step, her heart pounded,

  anxious to claim that which she had almost denied forever.

  Abruptly, every light along the shore went out, forcing Mica

  to slow her pace. Knowing from past experience that the storm

  would keep the electricity out for the duration, she hesitated.

  Should she check on her guests before abandoning her aunt’s

  home forever?

  “I’m not really leaving,” she whispered as she trotted up

  the path. “I’ll always take good care of your island, Aunt Theo.”

  She sent a silent thank you to her beloved aunt, for without her

  gift of Sea Crest, Mica might never have found Logan.

  She had the distinct feeling Aunt Theo and Logan’s Aunt

  Margaret had planned this from the very beginning. Mica only

  wished they had made it easier, but then she might not have

  appreciated what she had found in Logan.

  She entered the kitchen, feeling her way along the south

  wall to avoid stubbing a toe on the appliances. A flickering

  light in the vicinity of the living room caught her eye, and she

  carefully made her way in that direction.

  Two indefinable shapes huddled on the sofa in the dark.

  The flashlight blinked on and off in the corner, but the small

  circle of light did little to illuminate the room.

  “Anna?” Mica took a cautious step forward.

  One of the dark silhouettes answered. “Yes, it’s me. The

  batteries must not be very good.”

  Mica moved towards the couch as her manager continued

  nervously, “Never did care for storms. Most of the time, I go

  up to Orlando and stay with my sister. Even if a hurricane comes

  inland, it usually loses its punch before it hits Molly’s.”

  Anna’s wistful voice reminded Mica that soon the older

  woman would be in full charge of Sea Crest. Mica now

  wondered if she could handle it.

  “Mrs. Harris, there’s something you should know.”

  “Now, dear, don’t worry about me. I just get a li
ttle

  melancholy when a storm hits. You see, I lost my husband in a

  storm at sea. He was a fisherman.” She spoke to no one in

  particular, but Mica understood her need for conversation to

  chase away her fears.

  She had moved close enough to recognize Mr. Barker sitting

  next to Anna, his bald head glowing in the meager light. That

  could only mean the domineering Mrs. Barker had control of

  the only other light.

  Mica turned toward that corner of the sitting room. Nadine

  Barker had begun pulling books from the shelves. The

  flashlight, tucked under one arm, cast distorted shadows on

  the wall.

  “Mrs. Barker, I’d prefer you stay away from the windows.

  Come over here with the rest of us. Besides, you have no right

  to dig through the personal library.”

  “I’m not going to sit in the middle of the room like a ninny,

  just because of a little storm. Besides, we’re so close to

  discovery. Harold, come here and hold this damned light.” She

  tapped the flashlight against her palm as it went out again. As

  though God took exception to Mrs. Barker’s criticism of His

  handiwork, a roll of thunder, followed by a loud crash, echoed

  from above.

  Anna twisted her hands in agitation. “I do hope that wasn’t

  Professor Bigley. He refused to come downstairs, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” Mica sighed but headed for the stairs.

  Why was it that when she had finally reached a satisfactory

  conclusion to her personal dilemma, everything began working

  against her? She certainly couldn’t chance going through the

  door with the professor upstairs.

  “Professor Bigley, where are you?” She kept one hand on

  the banister as she crept up the stairs and turned down the hall.

  She had just reached his door when it slammed open. The

  professor and his squealing ghost machine tumbled out into

  the hall.

  “Sorry. Had to go back for more film. I accidentally

  knocked over the water pitcher and bowl.” He didn’t slow down,

  but tossed his explanation over a shoulder as he hurried towards

  the far end of the corridor. Right towards the door to Indigo

  Bay!

  Mica’s breath caught. Surely he couldn’t know. She tried

  to calm herself as she raced to catch up with him.