He looked up as Audrey shuffled into the room.
She glanced at the closed file on his desk. "Having trouble concentrating?" she asked.
"Just taking a break," he replied.
Her smile faded and she placed a hand over his. "Jack, can I talk to you for a minute?"
He pointed to the chair. "Sure, chickee. What's on your mind?"
She put her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her hands. "Jack, have you ever thought about what happens when people die. I mean, really thought about it?"
He expelled his breath slowly. "To be truthful, Audrey, I haven't. But that doesn't mean we can't talk about it."
She sighed softly. "You know, ever since I found out how sick I am, all I can think about is dying." Two tears slid down her cheeks. "It's awful, Jack. Day after day, all I can think about is being boxed up in a coffin and hearing them close the lid. I wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares about being locked up in a coffin before I'm dead, pounding on the lid for somebody to let me out." She rubbed her face with her hands. "It's horrible. I'm so frightened that all I'll see is darkness, it's making me crazy."
He came around the desk and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Oh God, Audrey. Why didn't you say something before now? Why didn't you talk to me about this?"
She hid her face in his shirt. "I didn't want to bother you with it."
He scooped her up into his arms, carried her over to the sofa, and sat next to her. Taking her cold hands in his, he rubbed them until her fingers felt warm. "That's not the way it works, Audrey. I'm not all that religious, but even I believe that when you die, your soul is released from your body."
She raised tearful eyes to his. "But how do you know that, Jack? How can you be sure of it?"
He swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in the back of his throat. "Two reasons, Audrey. One is my faith in God, and the other is all the near death experiences I've either read or heard about. Every one of those people who had a near death experience said they left their body and moved toward a tunnel filled with light." He squeezed her fingers. "Audrey, going by their accounts, angels meet you in the tunnel and take you with them to heaven. It's not dark and dreary; it's beautiful and joyous."
She rubbed his hand against her face. "I want to believe that, Jack. But I'm just so afraid it won't be true."
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. "It is true, Audrey. You've got to believe it for yourself. There is an afterlife; I'm sure of it."
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she climbed into his lap and planted kiss after kiss on his face and neck. "Hold me, Jack. Make love to me, please. At least when you make love to me, I know I'm still alive."
He lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom. As he kicked the door shut with his foot, he prayed that Audrey would find the answers to her questions--and some peace.
After Audrey fell asleep, he crawled out of the bed and wandered into the living room. Even though he hadn't done anything wrong, a feeling of guilt weighed heavily on his mind, and he couldn't figure out why. Audrey was his wife; he loved her. Why shouldn't he make love to her--especially when it lessened some of her fears?
Even though that explanation soothed his conscience, it didn't silence the voice inside him that made him feel like he was betraying Mary. This was absurd. He and Mary weren't lovers; they weren't even close. Running his fingers through his hair, he wandered from room to room, trying to find something to distract his thoughts.
Eventually he settled in the kitchen, and turned on the kettle for a cup of tea. As he watched the tea bag circle the inside of his cup, Audrey entered the room and planted a kiss on the top of his head.
"Would you fix a cup of tea for me, please?" she asked.
He nodded. "Sure. It'll just take a minute for the water to heat up." He stared at her for a moment. "Feel better?"
She smiled. "Yes, thanks. I know it sounds silly now, but I really have been having those terrible nightmares."
He stirred his tea. "Audrey, why don't I get one of the priests from our church to come and talk to you? Maybe he can help you find the answers to your questions."
She squeezed his hand. "Thanks, Jack. I think I'm ready to talk to one of the priests." She sighed. "Maybe he can help me find the answers I'm looking for."
He nodded. "Okay, I'll see if I can get Father Morton to come over and talk to you."
She nodded. "Thanks, I like him. He's easy to talk to." She opened the refrigerator and stood there for a moment, gazing at its contents. "I don't know about you, but suddenly I'm hungry. Would you like a sandwich? I'll be glad to fix one for you."
He nodded. "Yeah. Easy on the mustard, though. That spicy stuff gives me indigestion if I eat too much of it."
They ate in silence. When she'd finished most of her sandwich, she peered at him over the rim of her cup. "Jack, have you talked to Mary since you've been back?"
He shook his head. "No, she's been tied up. I've tried to call a couple of times, but her line was busy."
She reached over and placed her hand on his. "Why don't you give her a call now?" She glanced at the clock. "It's only two thirty," she suggested.
He shook his head. "She's probably in meetings all day."
"What if I try to call her in about an hour? I know you're busy, and I really don't have anything to do. I'm dying to find out if she's remembered anything else about the house, or the people who lived there. Maybe I can talk her into meeting us for lunch when we go down to Boston for my next treatment."
That was the last thing he needed! It wasn't bad enough that he felt guilty about his attraction to Mary. Now he had Audrey was pestering him to meet her. What a bizarre triangle this had turned out to be. A bitter smile formed on his lips. Maybe he should try to sell their story to a movie studio. It was certainly the stuff movies were made out of.
He did realize, however, that if he didn't call Mary, Audrey would. There was no doubt in his mind about that one. She was that stubborn when she wanted something--and she really wanted to meet Mary. His lips curved into a grin as he tried to imagine the shocked look on Mary's face when she realized Audrey was on the other end of the line! No, on second thought, he'd better do the phoning.
"What's so funny?" Audrey asked.
He tousled her hair with his fingers, and grinned as she swatted his hand. "Nothing, chickee. Tell you what. I'll give Mary a call. Maybe she'll agree to meet us for lunch. Okay?"
Audrey's lips curved into a smile, lighting up her pale face. "I'd like to meet her before the radiation treatment makes my hair fall out again." A gentle sigh escaped her lips as she smoothed her short, blonde hair.
She padded toward the living room. "I think I'm going to take a long, hot bath. Maybe it will take the kinks out of my back."
He watched her make her way across the room, her movements slow and deliberate. It wouldn't be long before she had to use a walker to stand upright. Damn, damn, damn. Why did this have to happen to her? He could think of dozens of people who deserved to suffer more than she did. Why were they healthy and not her?
He realized he was becoming bitter about her illness, and tried to convince himself that he needed to stay positive. Being bitter wouldn't solve anything, and it would just make his life more miserable. Shaking his head, he reached for the phone.
"This is Mary Corbett. Can I help you?"
He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Hello, Mary. It's Jack Windom. I wanted to call and thank you for sending over the file."
There was a slight pause. "You're welcome. Any time. Uh, how's your wife doing?"
"She's home from the hospital now. Feeling better, thanks. I wanted to ask how your interview with the Martines went. Frank told me she wasn't too thrilled about the evaluation."
"To say she wasn't happy with the report would be putting it mildly. But like I told her, the evaluation was fair, considering the condition of the house and furniture."
"I hope she didn't make it too rough
for you."
She chuckled. "No, other than throwing my blue book at me as I left, it wasn't too bad. It's a good thing I'm quick on my feet. You owe me one, Jack. The next time you get to face the client by yourself."
He laughed, realizing she'd given him a way to ease Audrey into the conversation. "Okay, it's a deal. Tell you what, I'll repay the debt by buying you lunch. I'm going to be in Boston in about a week, to take Audrey in for some tests. Why don't the three of us meet for lunch?"
The silence at the other end of the phone was deafening. He wondered if she'd agree, or hang up.
"I don't think so, Jack. I'm pretty sure I'll be out of town for a couple of weeks. Maybe some other time."
He wanted to argue, but realized now wasn't the time. "Okay, maybe later. Before I go, I wanted to ask if you'd remembered anything else about the plantation."
"No. I haven't remembered anything else. How about you?"
"Nothing."
She cleared her throat. "Well, sorry to cut you off, but somebody just walked into my office. I need to leave for a meeting."
"Sure. Thanks again for sending me the file."
"No problem, Jack. See ya."
He hung up the phone and slowly made his way to the bathroom to check on Audrey. She was sure to be disappointed, but he couldn't force Mary to meet her. He'd just have to work harder to get Mary to change her mind. Maybe if he asked her in person, she might agree. It was worth a try.
Audrey took one look at his solemn expression and her smile faded, leaving her face pinched and drawn. "She said no, didn't she?"
He nodded. "Don't worry, Audrey. I'll talk her into meeting you. It's just going to take a little time, that's all."
A grim smile crossed her lips. "You better hurry up, Jack. I'm running out of time."
Chapter 13
The nightmare began as it always did, with the sound of falling rocks. A rush of air blew dust and debris toward her, making it difficult to breathe. The wick on the lantern flickered a few times, then went out. She cried out for help, but no one answered. She was all alone, a prisoner of the thick, black darkness.
Unable to walk because of rocks and boulders, she grabbed the material of her long dress and pulled it toward her. She used the edge of her skirt as a fan to move air toward her face. Instead of air, harsh, searing pain filled her lungs, which felt as if they would burst. Desperate for a breath, she tried to inhale. She was suffocating! Her vision blurred, her knees buckled. She was dying...
Mary woke gasping for breath. Oh God, not again! Her heart pounded and her nightgown was soaked completely through. Droplets of sweat formed on her brow and rolled down the side of her temples. She took several deep breaths and closed her eyes in an effort to convince herself it was only a dream--she wasn't dying. After a few minutes, her hands stopped shaking and she switched on a lamp. Tears slid down her cheeks as she leaned back against her pillows.
How long would she suffer from these awful nightmares? Her whole body felt tense, like the spring of an alarm clock that had been wound too tightly. She flexed her muscles one-by-one, in an effort to help her relax. When sleep would not return, she got out of bed and made herself a cup of coffee. How many sleepless nights did this one make? She'd had so many, she'd lost count.
Well, one thing was certain, feeling sorry for herself wasn't going to solve her problems. Roaming the apartment in search for something constructive to do, she spotted her loan application on the table. Her New Year's resolution was to get the money to buy the plantation, and turn it into a bed and breakfast. She'd picked up the application yesterday, but hadn't had a chance to look at it. The clock chimed three times. There was just enough time to fill out the application and pull the backup she needed from her files before she left for work. She picked up and pencil and started to write.
Since her workload was light, she finished the application during lunch. Surveying the list of attachments, she sighed. It was painfully thin. Aside from her savings and a couple of antiques, she owned very little. On the other hand, her debt ratio was low, so the bank might consider her a good loan candidate.
Unfortunately, a low debt ratio didn't mean she'd get a business loan, especially for property in another state. The bank's loan manager hadn't been very receptive when she approached him yesterday. He'd made a few non-committal remarks, then handed her the stack of papers to fill out. The man's attitude was irritating, but she'd held her tongue because she needed him. She couldn't approach anybody else about coming in on the deal until she knew how much money she could contribute--hence, the loan application.
She dropped off the paperwork on her way home. It took three days for the manager to call back. During their meeting, he told her the bank would loan her up to one hundred eighty thousand dollars to purchase a home or business, providing her savings were used as collateral. It wasn't as much as she'd hoped for, but it helped.
The first thing she did was visit her sister, to give her the good news. She could hardly contain her excitement as they sat together in DeeDee's kitchen. Her words tumbled out in a rush. "The bank will lend me part of the money, but I need a couple of partners to swing the deal. How about it? You'll be able to go back to work in March, which would be perfect. And with your landscaping talent, you could handle the outside, and I'd handle the inside. All we'd need would be somebody else to chip in the rest of the money."
DeeDee shook her head. "Sorry, sis. I don't have much money left."
Mary's eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding. We each got fifty thousand dollars from Mom and Dad's life insurance. You couldn't have spent it all."
DeeDee grimaced, then refilled their coffee cups. "Believe it or not, I only have about five thousand left. Being off work is killing me financially. I'm only collecting three hundred dollars a week. I figured things would be easier if I didn't have a house payment, so I paid off my condo."
Mary nearly dropped her coffee cup. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've loaned you some money."
"You were out of town. Besides, I didn't decide to pay off my condo until right after Christmas. I wanted to use the money for something useful, before I threw it all away."
She took one look at Mary's face, then reached out and patted her arm. "Sorry to burst your bubble, sweetie, but I don't have any desire to live in some swamp–infested hell hole, full of alligators and mosquitoes. Even if I had the money, I wouldn't be interested."
Shocked, Mary remained silent. It hadn't occurred to her that DeeDee wouldn't be interested in becoming a partner. She sipped her coffee to cover the awkward silence.
"That's okay," she said. "I'll find someone else."
DeeDee chewed her bottom lip. "Maybe you should ask Jack if he's interested. Maybe he'd jump at the chance."
She shook her head. She'd already had that idea. However, she figured he wouldn't be receptive to her idea, considering the fact that she'd turned down two invitations to have lunch with him and meet his wife.
What did he want from her? Couldn't he see that she felt bad enough about still being attracted to him? God knows she'd tried hard enough to forget she'd ever met him. The last thing in the world she wanted was to meet his wife. She disliked the woman, even though they'd never met, simply because she was married to Jack. Mary felt ashamed of her feelings, but she couldn't help it. If Jack hadn't been married, things might have been different. Very different.
Besides, even if he was interested, the odds were ten–to-one his wife wouldn't be. There was no sense getting up false hope. She was better off leaving him out of this, as difficult as that was. She dragged her thoughts back to DeeDee's comment. "Jack? No way. He has enough problems with a sick wife. I'm not asking him for anything. I'll have to find somebody else, that's all."
DeeDee tapped her spoon on the side of her cup. "What about Aunt Elizavon? She's loaded. She could probably buy that house three or four times over, and not even miss the money."
Mary nearly choked. "I'd rather not go to her unless I have to. She's not exactly m
y favorite person. Even though she's loaded, I'd hate to think what she'd be like as a business partner!"
DeeDee sighed. "You're probably right. Sorry."
Mary rose from the table. "Well, I'd better get home. Thanks for the coffee."
DeeDee patted her arm as they walked toward the door. "You aren't mad because I don't want to pitch in, are you?"
Mary smiled and shook her head. "No. Disappointed maybe, but not mad. It's okay. I'll find somebody else. Don't worry about it."
Dee leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Sorry, sis." She followed Mary into the front room, then snapped her fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot. I've got the translation for those papers you gave me." She pulled a stack of papers from her briefcase near the door, and handed them to Mary. "Here they are. I've read over them and it's pretty boring stuff. Mostly what people paid for slaves, marriage information, records of births, etc. There wasn't very much about Jean-Pierre and Magdalene in there, just a couple of entries. I'm sorry to tell you that nothing in these pages will give you any more information that you already know."
Mary tucked the stack of pages into her briefcase. "Thanks, sis. I appreciate your finding somebody to translate it for me. I'll sit down and read over them tonight."
DeeDee hugged her neck. "Still friends?"
She smiled. "Of course we're still friends, silly."
Mary waved as she went down the hall, her mind already working on finding prospective partners. Most of the clients she'd dealt with over the years were wealthy businessmen, always on the lookout for a good deal. They all shared a singular passion: antiques. Whenever she came across an exceptional piece, she dropped them a note that gave the date, time, and place of the auction. Maybe there'd be one or two who'd be interested in her ideas for the plantation. The worst they could do would be turn her down.
Chapter 14
Nicole Martine snatched the survey company envelope from her maid's hands. It was about time! She'd been waiting anxiously to get the test results. She knew there had to be oil under the plantation, even if that imbecile of a geologist had been skeptical. Lots of people in these parts had oil and gas deposits--why not her and Philippe? She was tired of being the only person in her bridge club without an oil well.
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