Drowning

by Jassy Mackenzie

  His face was like thunder. I wished fervently I had thought before opening my big mouth. But it was too late for me to stop, so I pressed on.

  “If you want an idea of how badly they’re not working, I’ll tell you. While you were prancing around in this hotel room photographing your ex-girlfriend’s breasts, I was having an affair with the owner of the lodge where I was staying. I’m not proud of…”

  I was going to tell him that I was not proud of my decision. That it had been foolish and stupid and entirely my own fault, and that I regretted it deeply. But I did not get a chance to say any of that, because before I could, he grabbed my wrist and yanked me up from my chair.

  “You did what?” he yelled. His lips were curled back from his teeth and I could see the silvery gleam of the fillings in his molars, could smell strong coffee on his breath. His fingers dug viciously into my skin and I cried out, feeling cold with terror.

  “Ow! Stop!”

  I had forgotten how strong Vince was when he was trying to hurt me.

  “No!” I pleaded, as his grip tightened.

  “What do you mean, an affair? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  He grabbed a fistful of my hair, tugged hard. I felt roots rip out of my head, a sharp, exquisite agony, blood storming through my veins. I was tempted—so tempted—to shout that I’d been lying to him, that I’d only been trying to provoke him with my words, but I knew it was too late for that, and that even if I did, I would still suffer the consequences of his fury.

  Screaming was something I could do—if I yelled loud enough perhaps somebody would be alerted—but, anticipating my strategy, he clamped his hand over my mouth, crushing my lips against my teeth so hard I tasted blood.

  I forced my jaws open and snapped them shut, managing to get the flesh of one of his fingers in between them. With a shout of pain he snatched his hand away.

  I had just one chance, one moment left to act, and I needed to take it.

  I lunged forward, yanking myself out from his grasp, feeling a raw fire in my scalp as more hairs pulled loose. I dived for the door and snatched it open and then I was out, running down the corridor as if my life depended on it, knowing that if I could find another person then I would be safe, because Vince would never lay a finger on me in public; only when we were alone.

  He was pursuing me. I could hear the thudding of his footsteps. I hurtled down the stairs, my shoe catching on the edge of a rug and sending me flying. I sprawled onto the carpet, raw agony flaring in my injured palms. No time to think about how much it hurt. I was up again and on the move, my breath sobbing in my chest as I rounded a corner. Finally, thank God, there was a chambermaid approaching, her trolley loaded up with fresh linen. I sprinted past her knowing Vince would not; that he would drop back to a normal pace until he was out of her sight.

  That bought me a few precious seconds of time.

  What to do? Where to go? Was I going to throw myself at the mercy of the hotel receptionists, explaining what had happened and asking them to keep me safe until I could get out of here?

  No guarantee, though, that Vince wouldn’t smooth talk his way into persuading them that I was delusional.

  There was only one place I could go now. I sprinted across the reception area and headed through to the opposite wing of the hotel. In room 101, which was all the way at the end of the passage, I could be safe.

  I fumbled the key card into the slot, praying it would open without a problem, checking behind me as I did so, dreading that Vince would catch up with me. He would have slowed down to cross the lobby, though, and afterwards would not know which hallway I’d gone down—passages led to conference rooms, to the kitchen, a ladies’ bathroom.

  The door to room 101 clicked open and I burst inside, slamming it behind me.

  Inside, air-conditioned quiet and tranquility. Blessed silence. I stumbled to the sofa and flung myself on the cushions, my legs suddenly boneless.

  On the table in front of me I saw a small ice bucket and a clean hand towel had been set out. My eyes filled with tears as I realized exactly why Nicholas had thought to offer me this haven. Not just for my emotional well-being, but for my physical safety. He had lived with abuse as a child… he had guessed this would happen.

  I soaked the towel in the ice and pressed it onto my burning scalp and throbbing lips, its cold touch offering instant relief. Blood feathered out across the white linen like a spreading flood. I shut my eyes and wept softly.

  I knew it would be too dangerous to leave this room. I would stay here until my credit card arrived. Once I had that card, I would have my independence back—enough, at least, that I could arrange transportation and alternative accommodation while I waited for my temporary passport to be ready.

  I dialed the front desk and asked the receptionist if she could please call me in this room when my card arrived, and that I did not want anybody else to know where I was.

  “No problem, Mrs. Mitchell,” she reassured me.

  In spite of this, I started feeling fearful again. What if somebody, in all innocence, told Vince about this room? What if he managed to talk his way into obtaining an access card?

  I spent a few minutes fretting over this possibility. In fact, I was considering whether I should drag some furniture in front of the door just in case, when I heard the sound I had dreaded—the click and whirr of the latch opening.

  Shit, shit, a chambermaid would have knocked, so it had to be him. It had to. And I had nothing to defend myself but…

  I picked up the ornamental wrought-iron bowl on the desk and hoisted it high above my head. When Vince came in, I was going to throw it at him, and then I was going to dive past him and…

  The door swung wide and in walked Nicholas de Lanoy.

  Nicholas stopped in his tracks when he saw me struggling to brandish the heavy bowl, and for a long moment we stared at each other. My heart thundered in my chest. The bowl slipped from my grasp and thudded down onto the table.

  My lips felt numb, and not just from the ice I’d applied.

  “You’re hurt, Erin,” he said softly. “Are you all right?”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. My voice trembled. I couldn’t stop looking at him, noticing he was wearing a pair of jeans I hadn’t seen before and a black Polo shirt. His gold-tanned skin, his broad shoulders, his sandy hair—all so familiar and dear, although the expression of deep concern in his pale eyes was new to me.

  “I came to find you,” he said.

  He locked the door behind him and strode over to me.

  Then I was in his arms, wrapped tightly around me, my eyes flooding. I held him close, unable to believe he was really here. I had been so sure I would never see him again. My deep, shaky breaths did not stop me from weeping in relief.

  “You came to find me?”

  “I had to make sure you were okay.”

  “I am,” I told him. “Thanks to you.”

  “I was so worried.” He touched my lips with a gentle fingertip.

  “I told Vince about you. I might have done it in a more tactful way if I hadn’t seen he’d been photographing his ex-girlfriend’s breasts,” I said.

  “He did more than that,” Nicholas said, his voice cold.

  “Huh? What are you talking about? How do you know?” Scrubbing tears from my eyes, knowing it would be smudging my recently applied mascara but that Nicholas would not mind, I stared at him.

  “Hennie told me a couple of days ago. He said your husband and some blonde were all over each other at dinner soon after she arrived, and they spent the night in the same bedroom. The chambermaid found evidence of cocaine use the next morning. Read into it what you want. I should have told you at the time, but I didn’t. I worried it might only make things worse and drive a wedge between us. That you wouldn’t have believed me—or that you would have chosen to believe his lies.”

  Soberly, I thought about it, wondering what I would in fact have done. I didn’t know what the answer to that was. All I knew was
that with every day that had gone by at Leopard Rock, I had ended up trusting Vince less and Nicholas more.

  “When I found you had gone, I wished I’d told you. Wished I’d been able to change your mind, to stop you from choosing to run. Worst of all, I couldn’t get to you immediately. I had to organize a hired car. Which I did as fast as I could.”

  “Well—thank you again.” I didn’t know what else to tell him. I feared that anything else I said might betray the depths of my feelings for him.

  “Sit here with me. We need to talk.” He guided me over to the bed and helped my trembling body gently down onto the cool smooth sheets. Then, with his arm around me, he continued in a serious voice.

  “I didn’t just come here to make sure you were safe, Erin. I wanted to ask you to come back with me.”

  “To come back with you? To Leopard Rock?” I could hear the incredulity in my own voice.

  “Yes.”

  “But… for how long, Nicholas? Another week? Two? I don’t think I can do that, because…” Oh, well. Time to be honest, whatever the cost. “Because I’ve fallen for you in a big way, and it was difficult enough leaving the first time.”

  “Is that why you ran?” His voice was gentle.

  “Yes. That’s why I ran.”

  He took a deep breath. “The timing couldn’t have been worse. Because I was about to ask you to stay. And not for another week, or for another two.”

  I stared at him, my eyes wide with amazement. In my head, desire warred with disbelief. The prospect of returning to the lodge… staying there with him, without the inevitable prospect of a return flight looming ahead… but how was this possible? What had happened to the libertine who had made me such a brazen proposal less than a week ago?

  “But… but we hardly know each other,” I stammered out.

  “That’s why I want to spend a long time getting to know you better,” Nicholas said, his voice gentle. “A very long time. I’m thinking years, although it may well take decades. Or the remainder of the century, if you’ll have me. I’m totally sure about what I want, Erin. But if you’re unsure, we can take it a week at a time. In which case, I’d like to invite you to come back and spend just one more week with me.”

  I found myself blinking tears out of my eyes again as new emotions rushed in. Joy… relief… hope. I had not allowed myself to entertain any of them—had never thought they would be possible. I had never been able to imagine a future with Nicholas. Now, it felt as if the foundations of my world had been rocked. Instead of leaving alone for the plane back to New York, I could be returning to the estate, to be with the man who, in just a few short days, had managed to turn my life around—and had captured my heart.

  “I was planning to ask you to stay,” he said. “I was doing my best to gather my courage together, but it wasn’t easy, not with your situation as it was—and given how much your decision meant to me. Then you pre-empted me by leaving, and I thought I had lost you. Worse, I thought I’d allowed you to go back to a situation where you could be hurt.”

  “Are you sure…” Suspicion surfaced briefly. It was a question I had to ask.

  “What?”

  “Are you sure you are not just inviting me back because you’re trying to protect me from an abusive husband?”

  “No, Erin. I’m inviting you back because I am totally and utterly smitten with you. Because I’m in love with you.”

  “You’re what?” was all I could get out. My heart was racing. Was this really happening? Had he truly said these words?

  “I’m in love with you,” he repeated. “In the time that you’ve been in my life, you’ve changed it for the better. You’ve helped me understand that I am not the same person I was ten years ago, and that I’d only be fooling myself if I carried on trying to behave that way. When I realized you’d left, it felt as if my world had ended. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I can only hope that you do. Or that you are prepared to give us a chance, even if it means walking away from your marriage.”

  “I am,” I said, finding my voice at last. “And I feel the same way about you, Nicholas—my brain is just a little scrambled at the moment because I’ve spent the best part of the last week feeling everything you’ve been telling me now, and trying to deny it all. I’ve been dreading that damned bridge being rebuilt, more than you’ll ever know.”

  I turned to face him, glowering up at him in mock anger. “And I’ve been dreading getting the brush-off from Mr. de Lanoy, just like every other married woman he’s entertained at his estate.”

  “From the moment you opened your eyes and held my hand, that wasn’t going to happen,” Nicholas explained. “Even on that first night when we watched the stars together, I was trying to convince myself as much as you that it would be possible to let you go so easily. A day or two later, I knew that was never going to happen; that I’d found the person I wanted to spend my life with. I might have saved you from drowning, Erin, but in an equally important way, you’ve rescued me, too.”

  My jaw dropped at the words. Oh, God, this was real—this was something that surely had a chance of working. And didn’t everyone deserve a chance at happiness?

  For a moment I saw my two futures, divergent paths stretching out in front of me.

  In one, I returned to New York, moved out of Vince’s loft, went off on my own again. Most probably I’d end up going back to my nomadic lifestyle. A few months here, a few months there. Always roaming, traveling, moving on—although what I was running from, or searching for, I could never truly explain.

  And in the other, I went with Nicholas… to a life that would be filled with love. Who knew exactly where that decision would take me, where in the future or in the world we would end up traveling, what we would do… but we would be together. I would be with a man who complemented and completed me, who made me feel, through his presence, as if half of me had until now been missing.

  “So,” he said. “Shall we go?”

  “My bag!” The carry on satchel containing the only personal possessions I had in the country was in the hotel room where I guessed, even now, Vince would be pacing the carpet and smoldering.

  “Do you want me to go and get it?”

  The message was clear. I was not to risk being alone with my husband again. I knew that if I asked for the bag Nicholas would willingly go up to the bedroom and get it for me—and I had no doubt who would come out the victor, should there end up being a physical confrontation between the two men.

  But what was I leaving behind, really? A few clothes and cosmetics—items I had managed perfectly well without.

  “There are some good shops in Nelspruit,” Nicholas said, as if reading my mind. “We can make a stop before we pick up the helicopter, and buy whatever you need. There’s an excellent camera store there as well.”

  “Well, then,” I told him. Exuberance filled me. I stood up, grasped his hands, and pulled him to his feet and into my arms. “We’d better get going. Among other activities, I have a lot of photography to catch up on.”

  EPILOGUE

  A year had gone by since I had returned to Leopard Rock.

  Now I climbed out of the yellow cab, hearing the background buzz of voices, traffic, horns. Shivering, I wrapped my trench coat tightly around me and angled my umbrella so that it offered my hair some protection from the chilly blowing rain that had turned the afternoon cold and gloomy.

  New York City in November… a world away from the South African sunshine I had left behind—not recently, but months ago.

  As I hurried along the paved sidewalk, my thoughts returned to my first meeting with Nicholas—to the moment when I’d opened my eyes in darkness and heard his voice, felt the touch of his hand.

  Brent, the doorman, pulled open the glass door that led into the marble-tiled lobby of the apartment building where I had lived with Vince. Stepping inside, I found my mind filled with thoughts that were as dark as the weather.

  I couldn’t help remembering the man I thought I ha
d loved, and who had told me he had loved me. I thought sadly of loss, of shattered dreams, of a future that had looked golden and had, so swiftly, turned sour.

  “Mrs. Mitchell?” Brent said with some surprise as I reached into my pocket and took out a small padded envelope.

  Shaking the water off my umbrella, I smiled.

  “I’ve been divorced since January,” I told the doorman. “I’m not Mrs. Mitchell anymore. I came by to return a few valuables.”

  “Would you like to take them up to the apartment? Mr. Mitchell is away this week, but he did advise me you’d be round. I’ll come with you if you don’t mind.”

  “Thanks. I’ll only be a minute. There are personal items I’m supposed to collect as well.”

  Brent and I walked over to the elevator, and he pressed the button for the sixteenth floor, where Vince and I had lived.

  Our divorce, although messy, had been conducted entirely through our lawyers. Not once had Vince or I spoken, or met face to face. I’d already been informed he would be out of town when I arrived, but I hadn’t thought he’d refuse to let me into his apartment without the doorman supervising me.

  When Brent tapped on the door, I understood why.

  After a short pause, it was opened, and I stared in surprise at the woman in the doorway.

  Tall, slender, vulnerable-looking, she was wearing heavy make-up. Her shiny brown hair was perfectly styled and she was fashionably dressed in white jeans, high-heeled Burberry boots, and a Chanel blouse.

  Brent cleared his throat. “Good morning, ma’am. We’ve come to drop off this envelope. Mr. Mitchell knows about it.”

  “Yes, he did tell me,” she said, glancing at me warily. “Come in.”

  She stepped aside. It was only as I walked into the apartment that I noticed the single flaw in her perfection.

  Her right hand was heavily bandaged; the wrist encased in a stabilizing support splint. When I saw that, and the dark bruises above her elbow, I went cold all over. Gooseflesh prickled my spine.