Lancelot's Lady

by Cherish D'Angelo

  "Good. Because I miss Lancelot's Landing."

  "So do I," Rhianna said, catching Jonathan's eye. "By the way, you never told me where the name Lancelot's Landing came from."

  Jonathan shrugged. "It was Misty's idea. When I first bought the island, we just called it Angelina's. When Misty was about five, she wanted me to read the same story over and over again. Sir Lancelot and the Ice Castle. We'd play at sword fighting with broken branches."

  Rhianna raised a brow. "You?"

  "Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "Misty came up with the name. The funny thing is she didn't know about the Lance legacy. She's always signed her last name as Tyler." His expression grew sad. "I guess I was trying so hard to distance myself from JT that I didn't see what it was doing in my life. And Misty's."

  "And you believe me now that I didn't know who you were?"

  "Yes, I believe you."

  Relieved, Rhianna stared out the window at the passing traffic and buildings. Soon her entire life would change. Part of that change included Jonathan and Misty, a change that thrilled her. But she was still nervous about facing JT.

  What would she say to him?

  She thought of the day she'd first arrived in Miami. She'd been so overwhelmed by the expansive city and so scared about her future. Meeting JT had changed all that. Now she was getting ready to ask him some very difficult questions. What if the answers made things worse?

  She flicked a worried look at Jonathan.

  For now she had to leave everything up to destiny. Fate had dropped her on JT's doorstep months ago. Then on Angelina's Isle. Now fate was playing with all their futures.

  I'll fight for my future if I have to, she thought, as the taxi pulled into the circular driveway in front of Lance Manor.

  They clambered from the taxi, each one taking in the massive home and elaborate grounds.

  "Home sweet home," she whispered.

  Rhianna stepped inside first, leaving Jonathan and Misty outside on the porch. She figured he'd probably need a few minutes to gather his courage. Dropping her suitcase on the floor, she removed her jacket and hung it in the foyer closet.

  The front door opened.

  Jonathan poked his head inside. "Is the coast clear?"

  "For now. Even if we bump into Higginson, the man won't bite." She gave him a sweet smile. "I promise."

  Misty followed her father inside, her eyes two moons as she stared at the rich décor. "Is this a castle, Daddy?"

  "Almost."

  "Does Sir Lancelot live here?"

  Rhianna burst out laughing.

  "This is Grandpa's house," Jonathan explained.

  As Misty skipped around the foyer, Rhianna watched Jonathan. She could tell he was nervous. He kept wiping his palms on his pants. Moving close, she took both his hands, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

  "What's that for?" he asked.

  "You look like you're hurting."

  "I am." He touched the corner of his mouth. "I hurt here."

  She kissed the spot.

  "And here," he said, touching his centre of his lips.

  Rhianna was happy to oblige.

  "Excuse me," a voice said.

  She pulled away quickly, her cheeks reddening. "Higginson. I didn't see you there."

  "Apparently," the man said wryly.

  Jonathan smiled. "It's been a long time, Higginson."

  "That it has, Master Jonathan," the butler said, shaking Jonathan's outstretched hand.

  "You don't seem surprised to see us," Rhianna said.

  Higginson shrugged. "We thought you might cut your trip short, once you realized whose island you were on."

  "So you and JT concocted this whole plan?" Jonathan asked.

  "We knew she could convince you to come home."

  "But why didn't you just tell me?" Rhianna asked. "I went in blind, thinking I was going to some resort hotel."

  Higginson cringed. "I apologize about that. I wanted to tell you, but JT thought…" His voice faded. With a sigh, he said, "It's best if JT tells you himself."

  "We've already figured out a few things," Jonathan said. "We have a lot of questions."

  "I'm sure JT will answer them. Let me prepare him for your visit. I'll come get you in a few minutes. In the meantime, Master Jonathan―"

  "Just Jonathan, please."

  "In the meantime, sir, make yourselves at home. Miss McLeod, why don't you take the child and Jonathan upstairs to unpack? I'm sure you'll be staying for a while." Higginson turned cleanly on one heel and disappeared down the hall.

  Misty tugged on Jonathan's jacket. "Daddy, is that the king?"

  "No, honey. You'll meet the king later."

  "Are we going to sleep in this castle?"

  "Yes, Misty, we are. This will be our home for a bit."

  Rhianna felt a surge of hope and promise in his words. "Come on, you two. Let's go upstairs and pick out your room."

  "Does the king have a Sir Lancelot room?" Misty asked her.

  "I don't think so, sweetie, but I'm sure we can find you a pretty garden room with lots of flowers."

  As she followed Jonathan and Misty upstairs, Rhianna wondered how the meeting between Jonathan and JT would go. Would they finally mend their relationship? Or would the past continue to separate them?

  While Jonathan helped Misty unpack, Rhianna took in the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. It seemed like forever since she'd slept in the bed or admired the painting of the Lady in the Mist. She stared at it now, taking in the intricate detail of a master's brush. The foliage was detailed down to tiny veins in the lush plants, and she swore she could almost smell the flowers. She'd never owned anything so beautiful. Or so valuable.

  She traced a finger over the artist's indecipherable signature―Jonathan's signature. She recognized part of the floral design from the one he'd painted on her body.

  She shivered. It seemed like such a long time ago

  A knock sounded.

  "Come in," she called.

  "Misty's unpacked," Jonathan said in the doorway. "She's having a nap in her room. The trip really tired her―" He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. "What is the Lady in the Mist doing here?"

  "Your father gave it to me for my birthday."

  He strode up to the painting and caressed the frame. "He bought it?"

  "If you want it back―"

  "No," he said. "It's yours now. It's just strange to see it here. The gallery sold it to a collector. But I never knew who."

  "You'll probably find there are a few of your paintings here. I've seen at least twelve with your signature on them scattered throughout Lance Manor."

  Jonathan shook his head. "I don't get it. He hated that I wanted to be an artist. Said it was a hobby for lazy people, not a respectable career." His voice grew bitter. "He was so pissed when I told him I was going to paint instead of take over Lance Industries. When I married Sirena, I couldn't even talk to him without him judging all my shortcomings."

  "So you left."

  "What else could I do? He was a tyrant."

  "I think you'll find he's changed."

  "I'll have to see it to believe it."

  She sighed. "Jonathan, if there's one thing I've learned in my line of work it's that people who are dying have a deep need to make amends. JT knows he's made mistakes. I believe he regrets them dearly."

  "We'll see, won't we?" He stared at her. "What if he tells you he had an affair with your mother? What if he tells you your parents weren't the happily married couple you've been told they were?"

  "I'll deal with that when the time comes."

  Higginson appeared in the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt you, Miss McLeod, but JT is bellowing for you. And Jonathan."

  Rhianna smiled. "Then we'd better get moving."

  "See," Jonathan grumbled. "JT hasn't changed a bit."

  She hoped with all her heart that he was wrong.

  ~ * ~

  Sitting in the armchair in his room, JT rubbed his legs. His pa
lms shook slightly.

  Nerves.

  He had a lot to atone for and he prayed it wasn't too late. The thought of seeing his son after all these years frightened him. Jonathan could be a stubborn one.

  Takes after his old man, JT thought.

  Dressed casually in tan slacks and a white dress shirt, he waited impatiently for his guests, although it seemed strange to think of his son as a guest.

  And what about the child? he wondered, scouring his mind for his granddaughter's name. Mimi? Melanie?

  He scowled. His memory, or lack of it, frustrated the hell out of him.

  There was a soft knock on his door.

  "Come on in," he called, pasting what he hoped was a smile on his face.

  Rhianna entered first and his smile grew genuine.

  "I'm so glad to see you," he said.

  Rhianna crossed the room and planted a kiss on his cheek. "It's good to be ho―back," she said.

  JT pretended not to have noticed the slight slip, though it hurt him deeply that she no longer thought of Lance Manor as home. He hoped to rectify that. Soon.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked him.

  "Like Death is waiting to throw me a welcome party."

  "Ever the optimist," a deep voice said.

  Jonathan stepped into the room.

  JT studied him. "You look older, Jon."

  "I am older."

  "I'm glad you're here."

  Jonathan stared at him. "Are you?"

  "Yes."

  There was a moment of awkwardness before Rhianna piped up. "We have a lot of questions."

  "I am sure you do." JT motioned to the two chairs Higginson had dragged in earlier. "Please have a seat. Both of you." When they were seated, he said, "I'm really happy you're both here. I wasn't sure how long you'd stay away."

  "We left right after Rhianna was rescued," Jonathan said dryly.

  "W-what?" JT looked at Rhianna, his heart pounding in his chest. "What do you mean, rescued?"

  "You know a guy named Charles Duke?" his son asked.

  JT shook his head. "I don't think so."

  "He said he was your lawyer. He told us you had a relapse and that you needed Rhianna back home. But he wasn't planning on taking her home. He had some other destination in mind."

  "My God," JT whispered. "What did he look like?"

  "Short fat guy with mean eyes."

  JT was filled with dread. "Winston Chambers. He's the private investigator I hired to find Rhianna." He gave Rhianna an apologetic look. "I had no idea he'd go after you. He said he'd leave you alone if I paid him. Which I did."

  "The bastard was blackmailing you?" Jonathan asked, visibly enraged. "Why didn't you go to the police?"

  "I couldn't. He had information…" JT's voice faded as he stared, bleary-eyed, at Rhianna. "He didn't hurt you, did he? I couldn't forgive myself if he did."

  "No, he didn't hurt me, JT. I'm perfectly fine."

  "Where's the bastard now?"

  "He's dead," Jonathan replied.

  "I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

  JT looked away, hoping no one would see him crying.

  ~ * ~

  Rhianna noticed the slight shaking of JT's shoulders.

  "It's not your fault, JT," she said gently. "It all worked out in the end."

  "But Chambers―"

  "Chambers doesn't matter anymore," Jonathan interrupted. "There are more important things to discuss. Like why you sent Rhianna to Angelina's Isle."

  "To bring you back, of course."

  "But why didn't you just tell me where I was going?" Rhianna asked.

  JT eyed her. "Would you still have gone?"

  She knew he had a point. If he'd asked her to go to some island in the Bahamas and bring back his wayward son, she'd have suggested he find someone else.

  "I thought if you went and got to know Jon," JT said, "you'd…well, fall in love. That way when I die, my money will take care of all of you."

  Jonathan jumped to his feet. "When are you going to learn that it's not your place to mess with other people's lives?"

  "I needed to see you, son. I knew you'd never come if I asked."

  "Well, I'm here now, aren't I? So what's so bloody important that you had to drag us back here?"

  "I don't know where to begin." JT's voice trembled.

  Rhianna leaned forward and touched the old man's arm. "Start from the beginning. When you met my mother."

  "You know about that?"

  "Not the whole story."

  "I was in Bangor on business. I met Rhianna's mother and father on my last night there." He glanced down at the floor. "It was all a horrible accident. But I was to blame."

  "What are you talking about?" Rhianna asked.

  "The night your parents were killed."

  JT said this so softly that she thought she'd misunderstood. "But you knew my mother before that day, JT. You had an affair with her. Remember?"

  He shook his head. "I do remember. But you've got it all wrong. I never had an affair with your mother. The night I met your parents, an important business deal had fallen through. I was pissed about it and scared of the financial ramifications. I was driving back to my hotel room. It was very late." He looked at her then, his eyes filled with torment. "I was on my cell phone, arguing with Jon's mother. I wasn't paying attention to the road. Or the ice."

  A tight feeling gripped Rhianna's chest. Oh God…

  JT swallowed hard. "I had no idea I'd headed into oncoming traffic until I hit them."

  Rhianna gasped. "No!"

  "Yes. I'm responsible for your parents' death."

  This was far worse than she'd imagined.

  "But it was a hit and run," she cried out.

  "I'm not proud of what I did," JT said hoarsely. "I had a business that was falling apart, nearing bankruptcy. And my family was relying on me. They would've been destitute without me. So, yes, I ran. But not before I checked on your parents and called for an ambulance."

  Rhianna's eyes filled with tears. "My father was dead on impact."

  "No," JT said. "He was alive when I got to him. He said 'Anna' and then he died."

  "Oh my God," she said with a moan.

  "When I realized your mother was pregnant," JT said, "I knew I had to call it in. I called 911 right away, using your father's cell phone. That's when I saw his wallet on the seat. I needed to know their names. For some reason that was vital to me." He took a deep breath. "I found the photo of your mother. Susanna. I don't know why I took it. I don't even recall doing so." He paused. "You look so much like your mother."

  Rhianna's mind reeled. She didn't know what to say.

  "All these years," Jonathan said, visibly dazed, "you let me believe you'd had an affair."

  "I didn't know how else to explain having Anna's photo. The guilt was excruciating, overwhelming." JT gave a weary shrug. "Maybe I wanted someone to blame me for something. So I let you."

  "Did my mother say anything before she died?" Rhianna asked.

  "She told me about you. She asked me to take care of her baby." A sob escaped him then. "I stayed with her until I could hear the ambulance."

  "But you left them," Rhianna cried.

  "I know, and there's no excuse for my cowardice. I tried to make things right. I sent money anonymously to your aunt and uncle, but when they died and you went into foster care, I lost track of you. I am so very sorry, Rhianna."

  JT's admission filled her with overwhelming sadness. She couldn't even look at him. Or Jonathan. All she wanted to do was to run to her room and lick her wounds.

  "Rhianna," JT whispered. "Can you ever forgive me?"

  She couldn't speak. She was afraid of what would come out of her mouth.

  "I think she needs some time," Jonathan told JT.

  Rhianna walked to the window and stared out over the professionally landscaped lawns and perfect flowerbeds. Her parents probably would have given anything to live in a home like this. But they were never given the
chance. Because of JT. Because he wasn't paying attention.

  Was Jonathan's father really to blame, or was it fate?

  Her own words to Jonathan came back to haunt her.

  People who are dying have a deep need to make amends.

  Could she forgive JT? Was it as easy as just saying the words?

  She didn't think so.

  Someone touched her shoulder.

  "Are you all right?" Jonathan asked.

  She crossed her arms protectively. "I don't know. I'm numb."

  Flicking a look over her shoulder, she watched JT. He was slumped in the chair, his head in his hands. Quiet sobs came from him―tired, worn out cries of a man who'd suffered, who was still suffering.

  Did she want him to suffer more?

  No.

  Her parents were gone. She'd lived with that knowledge all her life. What was done was done. There was no going back, no way to change things. She'd lost her parents. JT had lost his marriage and his son. Jonathan had lost his father for so many years.

  Hadn't they all paid enough?

  Exhausted to the bone, she cleared her throat. "I forgive you, JT. Too many people have already suffered because of this secret. I forgive you."

  The old man broke down and she hurried to his side, holding him in her arms until his weeping grew quiet. Over his shoulder, she watched Jonathan. He stared at her with a look of amazement. And something else. Hope?

  Her heart did a quick pitter-patter.

  ~ * ~

  That evening, after JT had retired to his room, Rhianna sat in front of the living room fireplace, staring into the flames. Her life had taken a series of unexpected turns, the last one leaving her breathless and unsure of the future.

  She felt utterly lost.

  What now?

  Jonathan entered the room, a pensive look on his face.

  "Did you have a good talk with your father?" she asked.

  "Better than I'd expected. JT was quite taken with Misty."

  "I expect the feelings were mutual."

  He grinned. "Yeah."

  Jonathan sat down on the couch beside her, his thigh brushing against hers. She'd never been more aware of him. Or more terrified of what he might say.

  "So what now?"

  "Well, I guess that depends, Rhianna."

  "On what?"

  He took her hand. "On whether you can forgive me like you did JT."

  Rhianna tried to ignore the stirrings in her heart. "What do you need forgiveness for?"