~Four~

She was afraid of him.

Frayzer clenched a fist for the fourth time since he’d left Ellia’s office- the fourth time he’d considered using that fist to smash his own jaw. Idiot! Of course she was afraid of him. The fact that 16 years had passed between them was nothing. That night had damned well haunted him every day of his fucking life and he hadn’t even been the one violated...betrayed.

He’d gone there talking business. Fray squeezed the fist again, more ready than ever to smash himself in the face. Business! He hadn’t meant to lead with that- hadn’t meant to take the conversation into such sterile territory only he had no idea what else to say.

Lies. That was a crock and he knew it. He’d left the ferry and walked straight to the hotel that evening knowing good and goddamned well what he’d wanted to say to her. ‘I love you’ ‘I always have and will’ ‘Please forgive me’.

What he saw on her face- on that sweet, stunning face... She’d never be his. Losing her was exactly what he deserved, but it was sure as hell not all that he deserved. He’d gone to her with pleas of forgiveness on his mind, but he’d prepared himself for her hate and her anger.

Despite his misery, Fray could feel a smile fighting for breakthrough when he recalled the sheathed knife she carried. He was sure it wasn’t especially intended for him. Hundreds of people ventured on and off the island on a daily basis. Given her routine walks, traveling with protection was a necessity he’d been glad to see her take heed of.

No, the knife wasn’t especially for him, but she’d have used it. The fear-it was the fear that held her back.

His fist unclenched and he used the hand to work his fingers along the tapered edge of cropped waves at his nape. He was prepared for her anger, but not her fear. He thought his heart had broken into all the pieces it was capable of. Seeing the terror in her light eyes, sent the crushed muscle shattering into even smaller pieces.

He’d already been in Charleston a few days- everyday he had planned on seeing her. Every day he had lost his nerve. Instead, he’d been content with watching her. Learning her routine. He’d kept a low profile during those initial visits, but it stood to reason that he’d be recognized.

Taking time to chat with old acquaintances had given him the chance to find out more about her. He hadn’t dared to call home and just ask. He had no rights to her, least of all to knowing how she spent her time. He was glad he’d never called, having learned that the routine he’d witnessed was pretty much all there was.

Outside of her stellar management of Exodus’ premiere hotel, she had no other interests. There was no other life, no other love. She was a source of intrigue on the island- among the outsiders, that is. Among the elite residents of New Island, the story was well known. The truth had been boxed up and stored away like an old picture that no one wanted to look at, but no one could bear to part with.

Whatever the case, her beauty was undeniable, unforgettable, no matter the story. The fact that she had virtually locked herself away, made her all the more alluring. Quite a feat, in light of the image she cast- a leggy stunner with skin the tone of milk chocolate and luminous hazel eyes on a face accentuated by the lengthy coarse locks she often wore bound by a thick braid.

She still carried her height with cool elegance, he noted. Steps slowing as he near the vast lobby of The Taylor, Fray fixated on what else she carried well. The years had made her curves more abundant. The tank she’d worn with a flowing skirt under an oversized denim shirt did little to hide curves like that.

The running consensus Fray had gathered, was that there was nothing more heart wrenching than a wounded beauty who willingly resided in solitude. He couldn’t help but to agree.

They had known each other since they were kids- infants really. Their mothers had known each other long before either of them had become wives. Fray’s mother Carlotta Palmer was a native Charlestonian who came from a family of dressmakers.

Palmer Fabrics claimed clientele from all races as their skills were unmatched. Some said the family’s talents bordered on the supernatural, for there was little they couldn’t accomplish with needle and thread. Carlotta Palmer had only to see a design once and she could recreate it without the need for any guides or patterns.

Palmer Fabrics became the exclusive clothier for New Island residents and not only for the women. The Palmer’s skill crossed both genders with tailors as gifted as their female counterparts.

Ellia’s mother Marguerite Desmond visited Charleston regularly to have dresses made. In the process, she struck up a sister-like bond with Carlotta Palmer. It was rumored that Carlotta met her future husband Bronson Guthrie V during a visit she’d made to the island to see her friend. It was additionally believed that Carlotta’s friendship with Marguerite had doomed her to life with a man set on taking New Island back to a time of fear and tyranny.

No matter the speculation, the fact remained that Marguerite and Carlotta enjoyed a long and healthy friendship until their deaths which had occurred within weeks of each other. Frayzer and Ellia had been a few months shy of their third birthdays. The deaths brought everyone closer as the island joined forces in the rearing of the two motherless offspring.

It was Binta Hammond who had taken on the lionshare of the responsibilities. Childless, Binta delighted in spending her days caring for her nephew’s child. Bron didn’t mind. His self-assumed position as leader of New Island left him with little time for child raising.

Elliott Taylor doted on his daughter but the young widower was virtually clueless as to the actual care of a young child. Though there were many Taylors on hand to care for Ellia, Bin made her wishes known and assumed primary care for both Ellia and Fray. In Binta’s opinion, raising the children together was what their mothers would have wanted.

What their mothers would have wanted. Fray replayed the line in his head as he took the carpeted staircase down to the hotel’s mezzanine level. He settled into one of the black upholstered wing chairs in the remote seating area beneath the staircase.

There was so much their mothers would have wanted. Fray often wondered if...that night would have played out the way it did (or at all) if their mothers had been alive.

When it was all over, he’d taken El home. Fray doubted she recalled the trip as he carried her in his arms. She’d passed out from shock and pain and he was glad. Her screams had become whimpers which had tapered off into unintelligible mewling. The sounds had clawed at his heart. He’d put her into the arms of her stricken father when Elliott Taylor opened the door and discovered his daughter’s state.

Fray still remembered the horror and then resignation that took over the man’s face as he cradled his child. Fray could also remember himself from that night- his face had felt slick with tears and sweat...He could only sob out apologies as he backed away from the porch. He’d stood there, half bent in humble remorseful submission. He never saw Ellia again after that night.

They had made love for the first time that afternoon and had been making love up until the time they were interrupted by his cousin. She’d wanted to wait-so had he, but...well...emotions were strong and the timing...he’d had the key to Fiske and Binta Hammond’s home with the attic apartment. All the kids on the island had heard about the place. It had all seemed so perfect. Besides, she was going to be his wife. He’d wanted no one else but her. He had never wanted anyone else but her.

She was boldness tempered by a glaze that was cool, transparent and strong. It had all been contained in an elegant package that was so beautiful, she was staggering. Fray saw that boldness had now been doused and, along with it, so much of the woman he’d loved. Still loved.

The hope that he might one day get her back had been enough to get him through his days- his nights. Seeing her earlier and witnessing her fear...he knew that to hope was useless. Deep down, he supposed he’d always known it.

He had no choice but to gnash his teeth and accept the fact that she was lost to him. That didn’t mean she had to lose herself though. He’d been responsible for that happening. He’d be responsible for undoing enough of it to help her get back some of what she’d lost. She deserved to find that boldness again. She deserved to use that boldness to lash out with him in her sights-within her reach.

Fray sighed, resolved on the decision. He could give her that, at least. He knew there was anger under all that fear. What he couldn’t be sure of was whether his mission to tap into it was for her benefit or to make himself feel better about his part in her past.

***

It took her three minutes to get to her feet and another two to move away from the wall. Ellia left the knife on the floor. It had slipped from her hand as she stood.

She felt drained yet strangely rejuvenated as she studied the weapon. Its smooth, black handle was fashioned of some glossy wood visible from where it peeked out of the black leather sheath covering the blade.

She couldn’t help it. She smiled. She’d planned to be a lot more...hard-assed the next time she saw Fray. Faintly, she recalled what he’d said about finally getting his cousins out of the business. Was there trouble? Did any part of it link to the past they shared? She rolled her eyes over the question.

How much time had she wasted rehearsing the past? Thinking about all the things she should’ve said-ways she could’ve fought to save herself and her cousins. If she wasn’t rehearsing the past, she was doing it for future moments. Future moments like the one that had just passed in her office.

God...she moaned silently, hiding her face in her hands as she paced before the wall behind her desk. She was wearing a knife on her hip for goodness sake! Some good it’d do her if she ever happened upon a real threat.

The thought stopped her. A real threat? What exactly was Frayzer Guthrie, then? He was a threat to be sure, she reminded herself. She always had to remind herself that he was a threat. She tended to forget that. She tended to lose herself in thoughts of the man-the boy she’d known. The boy she thought she’d marry.

He was nowhere near a boy now, she mused. Fray had always been tall, but the years had added more height- not to mention muscle, chiseled and packed on a lean frame. The molasses tone of his skin was a testament to the Guthrie line. Many in that family celebrated that complexion as a mark that the Guthries had maintained a heritage undiluted by the blood of other races.

Ellia snorted while coming out of her denim shirt. Undiluted, she thought. The Guthries who celebrated that possibility were the same who had subscribed to the opinions of Bronson Guthrie V.

The sound of the man’s name, albeit silent in her mind, stirred a chill that had her skin turning to gooseflesh. Shaking off the sensation, El fixated on her meeting with Guthrie’s son. Aside from the ‘undiluted’ molasses of his skin, there was little-if any- of Fray’s father inside him.

Nevertheless, looks ran long and deep among the Guthries. The dark skin seemed to deepen the color of the pitch waves that crowned Frayzer Guthrie’s head. The effect was mirrored by the sleek goatee that accentuated the full, carefully sculpted mouth. His eyes, deep-set and intense, could have completed the picture of total ebony were it not for the gray flecks off-setting the black.

El wasn’t sure what was more unnerving, his looks or the voice that had carried her name when he spoke to her. It was the first time she’d heard his voice in well over a decade. She’d recalled its depths from their youth, but the roughness winding through it now, was new. She’d hated the woman in her for reacting to the sound. It was neither the time nor the place. It would never be the time or place again.

Her life was where she wanted it. It was a good life. To herself, she could admit that there were things she yearned for- things her ‘good life’ lacked. Still, it was what she needed it to be. She had no time for mourning the loss of what could have been and yet...and yet she couldn't deny how very devastating Frayzer Guthrie had become.

The years had brought on beautiful changes. All but the eyes, she thought. They had remained unchanged. Still gorgeous and clear, the midnight and gray flecked coloring couldn’t mask the hardness they could radiate. Likewise, her mind did nothing to mask her recollection that the kindness in those soulful eyes had been a deception.

The next time he paid a visit, she would sure as hell remind him of that.

***

Binta Hammond was a woman whose loving nature and wicked sense of humor made her a hard woman to be envious of. The loveliness she’d carried with her well into her eighties however kept envy only a stone’s throw away. The coveted Guthrie complexion was almost as flawless as it had been over 30 years ago when she was celebrating the half century mark of her life.

Now, just shy of 85 and a widow for the last 6 years, Bin could still enjoy a good laugh with her contemporaries and charm most men with her graceful beauty, wit or a mixture of both. Though charming the male species was perhaps her most coveted asset, for Bin there were only a few men she got a real kick out of spending her time with.

~~~

It was late when Frayzer took the drive from The Taylor to his grand-aunt’s home, but he knew Binta would still be awake. How the woman stayed lively and alert ‘til well past 1am and woke just as lively and alert at quarter past 6am was something Fray was sure he’d never understand.

At any rate, Fray was happy to find Bin enjoying the pleasantly cool evening on her front porch swing when he arrived. Following hugs, kisses and a few glasses of Binta’s prized sweet tea, talk settled to business.

“Why would you take such a thing seriously?”

“Partly because I want to,” Fray didn’t hesitate over Bin’s question. “I mean, it’s just a list of names along with an outrageous claim that something is coming that would take them down and anyone else along with them if they were standing nearby.”

“And you’re sure it’s all credible?” Bin outlined the wide mouth of her tea glass with the pad of her index finger.

“I am.” Again, there was no hesitation in Fray’s response. “Me, Zy and War have come so close to linking them to dozens of nasty suspicions we’ve had over the years. Somehow, they always manage to slip away just when we get close.” Hunched in a rocker, Fray studied the glass he held between his knees and grunted a laugh.

“Lately, we’ve been telling ourselves it’s our own personal hatred that’s gotten in the way, led us on some wild goose chase.” He shrugged and reached for one of the ginger snaps Binta had her staff bring out with the tea.

“Maybe we’re all suffering from egos bruised because someone found what we haven’t been able to in all our hunting.”

“I know you three will do what’s best,” Bin reached over to squeeze Fray’s thigh and then gave his knee a pat. “You also know you have my support.”

Fray responded at first with the playful curiosity that narrowed his intriguing eyes. “You remember you’ve got four other grandnephews besides the three of us.”

“I do,” Bin offered a graceful tilt of her head. “But you three grew up at my knee, the other four grew up at your father’s.” She smiled, noticing the muscles tensing along Fray’s jawline and she recognized the tell that hinted of his rising temper. Well versed on how to foil that occurrence, she simply threw him off course with an unexpected question. “What was it like seeing Elli?”

The technique worked and Fray’s temper made way for blossoming humor. He grinned, shook his head. “I should’ve known you’d know I saw her.”

Binta angled her head to capture a cool breeze that chose that moment to drift by. “It wasn’t hard to guess you would, but I would’ve heard either way with so many folks eager to share the news of you being back here. Lucius told me he brought you in on the ferry and took you back inland three days in a row. I guess you were building your courage to go see her.”

“It was like hell seeing her,” Fray winced over the comment when Bin laughed. “Sorry,” he said, before his mouth tightened into a grim line. “I couldn’t get anyone to just come right out and tell me if she was seeing anybody.”

Bin’s laughter flowed more freely. “No one’s keeping anything from you, baby. Elli’s not seeing anyone and trust me, it ain’t from lack of trying on the part of mostly every man who meets her.” She eyed her grand-nephew curiously. “Doesn’t that please you, sweetness?”

“No ma’am,” Fray grimaced a second after the admission left his tongue. “I know it should, but we both know why she’s alone. She’s hiding.”

Something that hinted of agreement filtered Bin’s dark chocolate eyes, but she said nothing to confirm. “She’s very involved with the island, very respected for where she’s helped to take it.”

“She’s hiding, Bin and she’s afraid of me.”

Heat pooled Binta’s voice and eyes then. “You were all children. All made to do terrible things because of my idiot nephew and his insanity. Your father hated that you didn’t have that...hate and the need inside you to lord your will over others”. She reached out to cup Fray’s cheek, squeezing until his eyes met hers.

“You take after my father and brother. Your great grandfather and grandfather. They were men who used their strength for good.”

“For good, huh?” Fray’s smile harbored remorse. “Looks like I forgot that part. She’s afraid of me, Bin.” He persisted. “Because of that, she’s refusing to live.” Disgusted, he left the rocker and began to pace the wraparound porch.

“I know I’ll never get her back.”

“Do you want her back?” Bin asked, though her smile was a knowing one.

Fray let harsh laughter crack into the night. “She’s all I want.” He mulled over the admission before shaking his head again. “But that’s not what this is about. I can’t leave until I try to fix things as much as I can.”

“Meaning?”

“She’s closed herself off under hurt and fear, but that strength that-that fire...it’s still there, Bin. Buried deep inside her. It’s...” he stared off into the night as though searching for his explanation. “It’s like when a person is buried in grief and all they need is a trigger to help them...unleash the emotion so they can get on the path to dealing.”

Bin frowned. “What the hell are you planning, little boy?”

Fray raised a hand to encourage Bin’s agreement. “She wants-she deserves to lash out at me. I never gave her the chance-”

“Frayzer Bronson Guthrie-”

“She deserves the chance to slap out at me, Bin. With her words, with her fists-”

“She carries a knife.”

“I saw it,” Fray grinned over the dryly delivered news. “She’s buried her anger, Bin but it’s killing her. Regardless of what she’s accomplished here, she’s shrinking away and she will until there’s nothing left. If there’s some way I can stop that, I have to try.”

“Be careful with her, Frayzer.” Binta’s voice was soft, but held an obvious edge. “You don’t know what pushing her to confront things she’s not ready for will do to her. Her life may not be what you believe it should be, but it works for her. It helps her to function beyond what the trauma of that night brought on.”

Fray leaned on the porch railing, arms folded across the throwback jersey he sported. “I’ve got business here. Some will involve her, since hers is one of the signatures we’ll need to give Russ, Sco, Jock and Key the boot. There’s no way I can talk to her about that when this is all either of us can see. It’d be ruthless to do so and she’s known enough ruthlessness from me.”

“You could just start by asking her to forgive you,” Binta smiled when Frayzer’s laughter warmed the cool night air.

“Aunty that’s exactly what I plan to start with.”