by Nan Ryan
Suzanna had, she decided, found paradise. She laughed then, realizing that already she was behaving like a pagan. How long had it been since she’d felt so wild and free and alive? Why, she hadn’t behaved like this since…since…
No! She would not think about Mitch Longley. She wouldn’t let herself think about him. It was a beautiful sunny morning and she was starting a new life. She was going to leave the painful past behind her—beginning today.
Suzanna spent the rest of the day in easy relaxation. Lazy, listless, lonely. And she enjoyed every minute of it.
Forty-One
In no time at all Suzanna had comfortably settled into her new way of life. She didn’t miss the parties and friends she had left back in Washington. She never regretted her decision to leave the city. Days went by when she saw no one—and she didn’t care.
She read the leather-bound books that lined the shelves of the library. God bless the general and his mother, Cordelia, before him. All the old popular British novels were here, including her own dear mother’s favorite, Cecilia. As a child Suzanna had laughed and smirked at her mother’s dramatic reading of Fanny Burns’s silly suicide attempts and implausible plot points. Now, she herself read, enraptured, burning the lamp until dawn.
She took frequent swims in the ocean and long walks on the beach, collecting shells that she artfully arranged on her night table. And if she felt like seeing a friendly face, she sent the flag up the pole and had the caretaker, old John Tillman, drive her into the village.
On her first trip to the little community, she had leisurely browsed in the marketplace, stopping at a fruit and vegetable stall manned by a smiling young woman and two adorable children. Immediately drawn to the tiny, sweet-faced little girls, Suzanna stopped to visit, and found the woman to be cheerful and the girls open and friendly.
“I’m Suzanna LeGrande Clements,” she had introduced herself to the trio.
“Anna. Anna Griggs,” said the woman, wiping her hand on her apron before extending it to Suzanna. Nodding to the laughing little girls, she said, “My children, Beth and Belinda.”
Suzanna stayed at the stall the better part of an hour. And in that time she learned that Anna Griggs had been widowed by the war and was very proud of her husband, a Confederate hero. She stated, with no self-pity, that selling fruits and vegetables provided for the care of her and her daughters.
Beth and Belinda Griggs had immediately stolen Suzanna’s heart. And their uncomplaining mother had quickly gained her respect and admiration.
Suzanna bought presents for the little girls and attempted to slip money to their hardworking mother, who staunchly refused the offer. Suzanna was rewarded with laughter and hugs from the happy children and silent gratitude from their mother.
* * *
On a warm, sunny afternoon a few days after meeting the Griggs, Suzanna was again in the village. She had stopped in at Meadows’ Emporium—the only general store in the community—to buy peppermint sticks for Beth and Belinda. Her back to the street, she was lifting the lid on the tall glass candy jar when suddenly she felt a strange sense of excitement she couldn’t account for. The fine hairs at the nape of neck rose. She inwardly shivered and her heart began to race.
Suzanna put the lid down, whirled around and hurried to the front of the store. She stepped outside, looked up the street, then down. And caught the fleeting glimpse of a tall, dark man with midnight hair and broad shoulders just as he stepped into an alleyway and disappeared. Suzanna lifted her long skirts and hurried down the wooden sidewalk.
At the alley she stopped, blinked to clear her vision and looked expectantly down the narrow passageway. She saw nothing. No one. Her throat dry, breath short, she leaned against the building, placed a hand over her wildly beating heart and closed her eyes.
She was being foolish, seeing things. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him. He was nowhere near this tiny South Carolina village.
Suzanna opened her eyes and pushed away from the building. Soundly lecturing herself, she went back to the emporium to purchase the peppermint sticks for the children.
The incident was forgotten as Suzanna presented Beth and Belinda with the candy and watched their eyes light with pleasure. By the time she left for home, she had totally dismissed the dark stranger from her mind.
* * *
Twilight was her favorite time of day. And her favorite place to spend the soothing solace of twilight was out on the upstairs balcony.
It was on just such an evening, while she reclined comfortably on a padded chaise longue and watched the fading light paint the clouds a darkening lavender hue, that a man suddenly crossed her line of vision.
A tall, lean man with midnight hair and broad shoulders.
Suzanna blinked and sat up to get a better look. Barefooted, his pant legs rolled up to his knees and his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, the intruder walked aimlessly along the sandy beach, looking out to sea. His dark hair blew in the gentle ocean breeze and his half-open shirt billowed out behind him.
Suzanna couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She leaned up from her chaise and stared, lips parted, eyes narrowing in the quickly fading light, her pulse beginning to quicken just as it had that afternoon in the village when she’d seen a tall, dark man disappear into an alley.
The tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders, the way he moved with such easy, fluid grace, even barefoot in the deep sand…There was something all too familiar about the tall, lean stranger.
Mitch! It was Mitch! It had been Mitch she’d seen that afternoon in the village! Dear Lord, her darling Mitch was right here on the South Carolina coast, strolling along the beach in front of her house!
Suzanna’s initial impulse was to rush down to him. She jumped up from the chaise and turned to go inside, but quickly stopped herself. Heart now hammering, she sank back down onto the chaise and watched him go on past, unaware of her presence. She wondered if he lived in the village. Or was his the house two miles up the beach that the attorney had mentioned?
She wondered if he was married. Of course he was married. Married and a father as well, in all likelihood. What was he doing here? Perhaps he had brought his family to the beach for a long holiday. Were the children girls? Boys? Both? Did they look like him? Was his wife beautiful?
Tears now stinging her eyes, Suzanna watched as he stopped and turned to face the ocean. He stayed there for several long minutes, as if contemplating something. Then he turned and went back the way he had come. Hardly daring to breathe, Suzanna watched until he was well out of sight.
Her hands gripping the sides of the chaise, her stomach tied in knots, she stayed there on the balcony fighting the strong desire to go running shamelessly after him. It took every ounce of her willpower to stay where she was. By the time she finally went inside, her entire body ached from the coiled tension.
Suzanna couldn’t sleep that night. She was too upset. Too excited. Too hopeful.
She lay awake in the moonlight telling herself, over and over, that it didn’t matter that he still hated her and would never have anything to do with her. Just being allowed to see him stroll down the beach was enough. She would never ask for anything more. She’d never let him know she was there. She would keep the lamps dark at night so that he wouldn’t know the house was occupied.
And she would keep herself well-hidden.
Dawn was not far off before Suzanna finally went to sleep. After only a few hours of slumber, she awakened. Her very first thought of the day was that Mitch was right here where she was. He had been on the sidewalk in front of Meadows’ Emporium a few days ago. He had walked past her house last night. Would he come again tonight? She could hardly wait for sunset.
Well before the sun went down Suzanna eagerly took up her station out on the balcony. She settled in with a field glass she’d found in the library. She wanted—had—to get a closer look at that dear handsome face.
But Mitch never showed up. Not that night, nor the ne
xt.
Night after night went by and Suzanna didn’t see him. She began to wonder if she ever actually had. Perhaps it wasn’t him at all, just a man who looked something like him. Or maybe the whole thing had been a figment of her imagination. She had yearned so long to see him, maybe she had conjured him up.
* * *
Suzanna became convinced that she had been mistaken. She had never seen Mitch in the village or down on the beach. Just wishful thinking, that’s all it had been. The beach was—and had been all along—totally deserted. No one was down there. No one had been.
As the month of May drew to a close, the weather became markedly warmer—not uncomfortably hot, like this time of year in Washington, but warm enough to make wading in the ocean part of her daily routine. That and reading for hours at a time, and taking long walks on the beach. And going into the village to shop and see the sweet little girls, Beth and Belinda.
And half hoping she’d find Mitch there—but she did not. And she gave up on seeing him again.
Then, weeks later, when spring had turned into summer, she strolled down to the beach at sunset on an unseasonably warm, late June evening. Seeing no one around, she lifted her skirts up around her thighs and waded out into the surf. She laughed and carelessly kicked at the water, the sound of her laughter carrying on the moist air. She whooped and danced enjoying herself. But her pleasure was short-lived.
A sudden riptide caught Suzanna off guard. She lost her footing, fell and went under. She came up choking and spitting water, trying desperately to regain her balance, but was again tugged under by the dangerous tide. In horror she realized that she was being pulled out to sea.
Arms and legs flailing, Suzanna panicked, knowing she was in real danger of drowning. She tried to fight the current that was rapidly dragging her farther from shore, but was unsuccessful. She was sinking again. The forceful tide was pulling her down to a watery grave. She was going to drown out here alone, and no one would ever know what had happened to her.
Just as she was being sucked farther under, a firm hand came around her waist and she was yanked up into a pair of strong arms. Coughing and gasping for breath, Suzanna clung to her savior’s neck as he carried her to safety.
At the water’s edge, the man sank to his knees, placed her gently on the sand, lowered her soaked skirts down over her thighs and carefully swept her hair back.
And in the last fading light of day, Suzanna LeGrande and Mitch Longley found themselves face-to-face after all those years.
Forty-Two
For a split second there was an unmistakable look of love and relief on Mitch’s handsome face, but his expression swiftly changed. His jaw hardened and pure hatred flashed from the depths of his emerald-green eyes.
“You!” he stated bitterly. “Damn you! What in the name of God are you doing here? How did you find me? Why did you find me?”
Struggling to get her breath, Suzanna quickly sat up, shaking her head. “No! No, I didn’t…Oh, Mitch, I didn’t know you were here.”
“You expect me to believe you?” he said, levering himself up and shooting to his feet. “Oh, that’s right,” he added sarcastically, “I almost forgot. I’m the blind trusting fool who believed every lie you ever told me.”
“I’m not lying now, I’m not. I swear it!”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “Christ, you weren’t content with ruining my life and ending my career. You still want more, is that it?” His hands balled into fists at his sides, a vein throbbing in his forehead, as he said, “Too bad, baby, I have nothing left to give.”
He turned and stalked away.
Suzanna jumped to her feet and rushed after him. “Mitch, Mitch, I only want your forgiveness. I’m genuinely sorry for—”
“Save it, Suzanna.” He sharply cut her off. “You’re wasting your breath.”
Grabbing his arm, she said, “Mitch, stop! I beg you, wait just a minute. Please let me—”
“No! I won’t let you!” he said, shaking off her hand and walking on. “Never again.”
Frantic, she again hurried after him, pleading with him to stop, to give her a chance, to let her at least apologize. But Mitch refused to listen. When she again grabbed his arm, he stopped abruptly, whirled about to face her and yanked his soaking shirt open, baring his torso.
“See this?” He turned slightly so that the last dying rays of sun struck his naked chest. Suzanna stared at the network of scars marring the tanned perfection of his body, and her hand went up to cover her mouth. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he said sharply. “And I have you to thank for it.”
Tears now streaming down her cheeks, Suzanna automatically reached out to touch the scarred flesh, but he was too swift for her. “No, you don’t,” he warned, and clasped her wrist. His fingers cutting into her flesh, he said, “I don’t want you touching me ever again, do you understand me? I want you to stay the hell away from me, do you understand?” He released her wrist and again turned away.
“I will, but—”
Once more he cut her off. “No! Damn it, no. Whatever you’re about to ask me, I won’t do it. Whatever you want to tell me, I’m not listening. Whatever you need, I haven’t got it. I’m all used up. Burned out. Empty. Useless. Unable to give you anything more.”
“I…I don’t want anything from you, Mitch. I just want—”
“I don’t give a damn what you want,” he interrupted. “Whatever brought you here, I don’t care.” He turned and walked away, leaving her shaken and sobbing his name.
Suzanna sank to her knees, trembling with emotion. But her innate pride quickly surfaced and she got to her feet. She ran after Mitch and shouted at him, “You think you’re the only one who has suffered? Is that it? You’re feeling sorry for yourself, and think no one else on earth has been hurt? Answer me, damn you!”
Mitch just shook his head, dismissing her and walked on. She followed, screaming, “I lost everything in the war! That’s why I agreed to spy for the Confederacy. The Yankees had taken everything and everybody I ever loved.” She drew an anxious breath and said, “Please, please try to understand! What I did to you is unforgivable—I know that—but it was not without reason. Surely you can understand.” Frantically, she stepped in front of him and threw her arms around his waist. “I had lost everything and then…then I fell in love with you, Mitch. I did, I swear it.”
He removed her arms and flung her away so roughly she sprawled in the sand. “That, Mrs. Clements, is your misfortune.”
He left her there and never looked back.
Beaten, heartsick, Suzanna stayed where she was until Mitch was completely out of sight. Finally she drew a spine-stiffening breath, got to her feet and made her way back up to the house. There she stripped off her wet clothes, toweled herself dry and climbed wearily into bed.
But she didn’t sleep.
* * *
Suzanna was not the only one who couldn’t sleep that night. Angry and upset, Mitch returned to his villa and immediately poured himself a stiff bourbon.
Damn her to eternal hell! Why couldn’t she leave him the hell alone? Of all the places in all the world, why did she have to turn up on his little stretch of beach in South Carolina? He’d thought this would be the last place on earth he’d run into her.
Swearing at the cruel Fates that had brought them back together, Mitch paced restlessly and drank. His mood black and getting blacker, he realized that his hatred of her still burned brightly. But so did his desire.
A man who had grown increasingly cynical over the years, Mitch walked the floor and cursed the sight of her. And his own weakness. Seeing her again after all this time, he’d found his first impulse was to take her in his arms. And he hated her for that. She was the last person on earth he had wanted to encounter. And he’d be damned if he’d see her again! He would stay away from the beach. She could have the whole ocean to herself.
Mitch didn’t know what she was doing here, but he reasoned that she would soon get bored and move on. From what he�
��d heard, she had spent five years seeing how many lovers she could collect on the Continent. He grimaced at the unpleasant thought. There had been a time when he was her first and only lover.
He shook his head and downed another shot of bourbon.
A whore, that’s what Suzanna LeGrande was. A soulless courtesan who used her beautiful body to get what she wanted. Mitch gritted his teeth. He had spent far too many nights trying to forget how it felt to have her luscious lips on his and her silken arms and legs wrapped around him.
Mitch poured yet another drink and fought the unbidden desire she so effortlessly evoked in him.
* * *
Down the beach, Suzanna stayed awake far into the night, equally upset. Her eyes were red and swollen from weeping, and her heart ached painfully. For years she had told herself that she was over Mitch, that she no longer loved him, no longer cared where he was or what he was doing or if he despised her. But it wasn’t true.
She loved him still, would love him until she drew her last breath. Sadly, he hated her and would always hate her. And she didn’t blame him. She had ruined his life, and for that she would pay the rest of her life.
Suzanna tossed restlessly in bed, her body awakened from simply seeing him again, hearing his voice, having his arms around her briefly. She moaned and beat on the mattress with her fists. She had spent far too many nights attempting to forget how it felt to have his burning lips on hers and his powerful body against her, atop her, beneath her. Inside her.
Suzanna turned onto her side, drew her knees up against her chest in a fetal position and fought the sweet agony he had so easily aroused in her.
* * *
Mitch stayed away from the beach. And so did Suzanna.
Neither dared risk bumping into the other again. Mitch strongly considered moving out of the little thatched beach house where he’d spent the last couple of years. Suzanna contemplated taking up the attorney, Timothy Youngblood, on his offer to find her a house in Savannah or Charleston.