Jade had the knack of being able to set her internal clock so she woke at whatever hour she wished. At five o’clock on Sunday morning, she lay next to Paul, gazing out at the dawn. On Friday she’d told herself she’d done exactly the right thing in coming here to be with him for another weekend. Now she was afraid that might not be true, that perhaps it had been completely the wrong thing. Something niggling inside her insisted it was possible she’d made a Very Grave Mistake.
She hadn’t realized so much could happen in so short a time, how close she would feel to him, as if invisible links had woven between and over them, creating something precious, beyond just sex, although the lovemaking had certainly begun the process. And she was about to deliberately destroy all that. If she didn’t make a clean cut now, today, right this morning, so much would be in jeopardy: all her years of effort to get ahead in her career, the agency’s future, not to mention Adrian’s. And if her parents had to move, go back to a hand-to-mouth existence … . The very thought brought her out in a cold sweat.
All this meant she couldn’t allow herself to dream. Life demanded she be pragmatic, and that’s what she’d be. No matter if it brought up an aching sense of loss.
The alternative, to tell Paul the truth, was unthinkable. At work, they’d never gotten along well. Finding out Jade and Dipity were one and the same was certain to send him into orbit.
Oh God, how could that one thoughtless, instinctive reaction when she fled away from a stranded Paul have cost her so dear?
The sun’s rays shone onto the bed, warm and golden. Staring blankly, she lay there, Paul’s long body next to hers, one leg hooked over her, as if making sure she didn’t go away. But that was exactly what she had to do. Forever. Before he could ask her how he could contact her, before she jeopardized her carefully built life any further.
Inch by inch, she slid out of bed. Paul slept on. As she took in his peaceful expression, the dark eyelashes underlining the curve of his closed lids, the shadow of his morning beard outlining the firm jawbone and contrasting with the smooth flesh of his lips, something moved within her. She longed to bend over and press her lips to his one last time. Stifling her regret, she straightened, closed her eyes for a couple of seconds against the threatening tears. At least she’d always be able to remember this brief time with him in paradise.
She dressed quietly, gathered her things together, and crept out of the cabin. It was a good thing Paul had been sleeping so soundly.
The walk back to the resort soothed her a little. This time the trees along the tranquil country road seemed to reach their branches toward her, as if to comfort her as she trudged along. Jade couldn’t help thinking about the difference in her feelings between now, leaving Paul and all that had happened between them behind, and Friday, during her walk in the dark when she hadn’t been sure of her reception. The weekend had turned out to be more intimate, more companionable, more fun, and more wonderfully sexy than she could have imagined. Ah well. Even the best fantasies had to end.
If only her situation could have been different.
The surface of the lake was like glass. Jade almost regretted having to disturb the waters, but home she must go.
She found Marigold already busy in her garden, picking red currants.
“You going to make muesli with those?”
Her mom looked over her shoulder in surprise. “Dipity! I didn’t expect you back yet.”
“I decided best to slip out early. That way, no questions could be asked.”
Marigold stripped another handful of berries off the bush, dropped them into the bowl she carried and turned toward her daughter. “So you’re really going to end the whole thing now?”
Jade nodded.
“Never see Paul again?”
“You know I will. I’ll see him tomorrow, at the agency.”
“Won’t that be difficult?”
“Yup, but I’ll just have to deal with it.”
A frown marred her mom’s usually serene expression. She opened her mouth as if to say something more and closed it again. Jade was grateful. She knew Marigold had been hoping for great things from her getting together with Paul, but the reality was, it was over.
By the time Jade met Fred at the hanger, dark, angry clouds clustered on the horizon, threatening a storm.
Fred was making his final inspection of the float plane.
“All ready to go?” she asked. “Or will the storm delay us?”
“No, we’ll be okay, Dipity.” He glanced up at the sky, then at her. “We’ll be flying away from the weather, so I’ll get you back okay, no problem. You’ll be at work tomorrow morning, same as usual.”
She knew Fred meant to reassure her, but all she felt was sick at heart. Like a robot she went through the usual procedures and soon they were up in the air. She gazed absently at the passing clouds, detached from herself and the earth. The weekend had been a dream. She and Paul had laughed together and loved together. Often. Now, how was she going to find the strength, the necessary mindset, to close the book on their fling and get over it? This was going to be a far harder task than she’d ever envisaged.
The small plane bumped and dipped.
Her stomach lurched with the plane, and she gripped the seat. Where was Paul now, she wondered. Had he swung by her parents’ house? In any case, he’d be driving back into the city. Maybe they were flying right over him, or maybe he was stuck in the returning weekend traffic. Wherever he was, he was surely wondering why, after they’d had such a fabulous time together, Serendipity had simply disappeared, run out on him without a word.
The storm must have caught up with them after all, because her vision was blurred from the falling rain. She touched her cheek and found that it was wet.
• • •
Paul stretched out an arm. Finding no warm shape nearby, he patted the sheet and the mattress. Nothing. He opened his eyes. Serendipity must be in the bathroom.
Minutes went by and he heard no sound. All right. Most likely she’d gone for a swim in the lake. Already he knew that about her, how she loved to be outside in the fresh morning air. Groggily he wiped a hand over his face, the bristle of beard on his chin.
Thinking he’d go join her, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, and wandered out onto the stoop. No one. Only the still, hushed air of a beautiful summer Sunday.
He went back inside and checked the small house. This was ridiculous. She wouldn’t run out on him again. Not for the fourth time. Not after all they’d shared.
Of course not. Sooner or later she was bound to appear. She’d manifest like a sprite in the woods, naked, teasing him with an adult game of hide-and-seek.
She had to be out there somewhere. Nope. Down at the small beach, he saw no sign of life apart from birds, bugs, two squirrels, and a chipmunk.
This was weird. Made no sense. Apart from anything else, together they’d had the best sex ever. It couldn’t have been a one-way street.
He’d presumed they’d travel back to the city together, so she must have popped across the lake to say good-bye to her family. Yes, that made sense. Although, she could have left a note.
In the meantime, he could work on the sculpture. Make use of new inspiration. There wouldn’t be room to take the Spirit of the Lake back in the car, but Steve would surely be okay with storing it in the shed for a while.
Sculpting in the city would present a problem. Of course, there was always Eleanor, the wealthy woman who’d offered to sponsor him. She’d help if he wanted to rent a studio. No, that idea was simply too way out to consider seriously.
Paul got caught up in the sculpture. Each piece of wood he chiseled away brought him closer to Serendipity, made him feel he was discovering more about her, unveiling the beauty of her form, her being. He felt the glow of her presence again, remembered little incidents of the past hours, recalled how they’d been so good together. Going back to the bachelor life, with transient girlfriends, no longer appealed. No, in this too he needed to do an assessment.
Lost in his process of artistic creation, he didn’t notice time going by until his gut rumbled. He looked at his watch. Early afternoon already.
With a feeling of foreboding, he headed back to the cabin. Only when he was inside did it register: Serendipity’s things were gone. No neat hairbrush lay next to his comb on the rough wooden dresser, no leather weekend bag lay on the circular rag rug.
He didn’t at all like the nasty, insidious feeling that churned his gut and hovered around his heart.
Surely she’d return soon.
He started packing his things, but gave up. Instead, he drifted down to the shore again and stood gazing across the water. Time to face facts. She wasn’t going to reappear, as he’d presumed. Anger at her desertion rose in him. What could have been in her mind?
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he kicked at the cold ashes of the fire. How could she do this? Sure, they hadn’t discussed anything about the future. Somehow he’d imagined there’d be plenty of time. In the enjoyment of the moment he hadn’t mentioned anything about making plans. Maybe that was why she had left? Maybe she thought she should walk away before he did.
Maybe he should have told her he loved her.
He stopped dead in his tracks. His head fell back and he gazed at the sky. Damn. He loved her. Exactly when and where it had happened, he didn’t know. But he knew it for truth, and that he needed to tell her.
Well hey, he could go after her, couldn’t he? He wasn’t about to let her run out on him like that. Lucky he knew where she lived. He could drive over to the house, see if she was there. He’d finish packing up his things, load the car, and take a swing by her parents before setting off for the city. Hopefully he’d learn something there, find out what was going on.
• • •
He found Serendipity’s mother in her garden, hoeing a patch of leeks. She wore a large straw hat, sandals, and a rainbow-colored caftan. Hearing his footsteps on the path, she looked up.
“Hi.” She wiped her hand on her dress and came forward, smiling at him. “I’m Marigold. You must be Paul.”
“Got it in one.” He took her hand in his. “Serendipity told you about me?”
Marigold nodded. “I’m so sorry. You just missed her.”
“She’s already left? I was hoping she’d drive back down with me.”
“Adrian took her over to Fred’s.” She indicated across the lake. “Oh, about three quarters of an hour ago.”
Fred? Was he an old flame or even a present one? Paul didn’t enjoy the stab of jealousy.
Marigold propped her hands on her hoe. She cocked her head as if listening for something.
“They should be taking off any minute now.”
“Taking off?” Paul echoed.
“Sure. That’s Dipity’s regular ride. Every fortnight she flies up with him in the float plane. Only, this weekend she made an exception.”
Ah, that gave him some hope, made him feel better.
“On Wednesday it will be Frank and my wedding anniversary. Friday night we had a party.”
So much for thinking she’d come especially to see him. But he wasn’t about to give up. “Too bad … uh, I mean, that I just missed her, not the anniversary. Congratulations on that … . Um, could you give me her address and phone number?”
Marigold made a few last scratches with the hoe. She rested her hands on the handle again. “I don’t know if Dipity would approve of my doing this, but I’m going to go ahead anyhow.”
“She doesn’t like you to garden?”
“No, I meant, she doesn’t like me giving out her details.”
“Why not?”
Marigold shrugged. “It’s complicated. You’ll need to ask her why not.”
He patted his pockets. No phone. He’d have to go the ancient papyrus-and-stylus route. But he didn’t have that available either. “Could you lend me a pencil and a piece of paper?”
“Sure. Come inside.” He followed Marigold into the house, dipping his head as he walked in the door. She found a small pad and wrote two series of numbers on it.
He had a bad feeling about all this. Marigold sent him a sympathetic look. She reached out and clasped his hand.
“Don’t be too despondent. I intuit she’s afraid of her feelings for you. Dipity’s good at repressing her emotions.”
He hadn’t found her inhibited. Quite the opposite, in fact. But he didn’t want to tell her mother that.
She let him go. “I’ve added our phone number, in any case you need it.”
They went out to the car. Once he was sitting inside, his seat belt safely fastened, she stepped back.
“Have a safe trip. And Paul, keep in touch, see?”
• • •
The return journey was a pain. After he’d managed, miraculously, not to get uptight about the crawling traffic with its stop-start, erratic rhythm, he found he couldn’t prevent himself remembering the trip up. Meeting Serendipity. Finding her again. Making love to her.
As the miles went by and he drew nearer to the city, he began to feel somewhat depressed. He put on some of his specially chosen, calming music, and felt marginally better.
After a while, he turned off the highway and drove toward his neighborhood. How strange to see houses huddled close together, hardly any yard around them and busy, brightly lit, downtown streets. Never before had he thought of city life as being unnatural, but now he missed the countryside and the simplicity of his existence over the last little while, up at the lake. He could tell adjusting to being back was not going to be a piece of cake nor even a bite of one of Marigold’s marvelous muffins.
At one thirty A.M., he drew up in front of the house he shared with Steve. Too late to call Serendipity. He’d have to wait until tomorrow evening.
• • •
Jade exited her regular Monday-morning meeting with the CEO and other vice presidents with as much dignity as she could muster. Her walk was controlled, neither too fast nor too slow, her outer appearance betraying nothing of how she was feeling. The instructions she’d received had hit her like a head-on crash. Denial, fear, and fury mixed explosively inside her. What she wanted to do was flee screaming out of the agency, out of the building, and race all the way around the block, yelling until she was rid of this anguish that gripped her like a hideous monster. Emotions finally overcoming her, she gulped in a great gasp of air and rushed toward the women’s washroom. The gagging sensation tearing at her throat and gut sent her into a cold sweat. If she wasn’t mistaken, she was about to throw up, something she hadn’t done since she was a teenager and had eaten her first oyster, which had been rotten.
The metal doorknob felt cold in her hand. She wrenched it around, shoved the door open, and made for the sink. Icy water would help. Opening the tap, she splashed at her temples and wrists, uncaring that she was wetting her chic, expensive, silk shirt. Another wave of nausea hit her. She clung on to the sides of the vanity and hung her head.
Behind her, someone came in. Jade heard the door swish shut and felt the slight pressure of a comforting hand on her back. Warm, human comfort. Whoever it was, she was grateful.
Suzy’s soft voice asked, “Jade, what’s wrong? I saw you dash in here, looking like death. Can I help? What’s going on?”
“Oh Suzy. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, not you.” Suzy’s worried face appeared next to hers in the mirror. “Unless … you’re not pregnant are you?”
Jade shook her head. She didn’t want to go there, consider the opportunity she’d passed up, not even in thought. It was unlikely she’d be in a position to fall pregnant ever again. She couldn’t imagine getting involved with another man. Not after Paul.
“Here, take some of this.”
Suzy held up a small, brown phial with a dropper at one end and a yellow label. Rescue Remedy. Jade recognized it immediately as one of the natural medicines Marigold used. Suzy grabbed a paper cup from the stack in the corner of the vanity, poured half an inch of water into it and added five drops from the bottle.
“Rescuing is what I need. Thanks.” Jade threw it down her throat. Almost immediately she felt better, steadier.
Suzy leaned one hip against the edge of the vanity. “So tell Aunt Suzy. What happened?”
Maybe talking about the situation would help. Jade looked at her watch. Twenty before noon. For once she would relax her self-imposed discipline. She had to escape.
“Can we get out of here? Go to lunch a few minutes early?”
“Sure. I’ll grab my purse and meet you outside.”
At their usual restaurant, the maitre d’ looked surprised. He picked up two menus and came toward them, smiling and nodding his head in a kind of bow as he spoke. “Ladies, it’s Monday, not Wednesday. Are you trying to make the week rearrange itself?”
Jade managed a feeble smile.
Suzy rescued her. She grabbed Jade’s elbow, urging her forward, all the while talking to the maitre d’. “Emergency today. We need coffee straightaway.”
“Of course,” he murmured and showed them to a quiet corner. Then he went off to give instructions to their waiter.
When they were settled, with Jade sitting with her back to the room, Suzy said, “All right. This is better. Now tell.”
Jade took a deep breath. In a deliberate movement, she closed her eyes and then opened them again. No, this wasn’t a nightmare. Unfortunately, the world hadn’t gone back to what it was a little more than two weeks ago. This was reality, and she was in deep, deep trouble.
“In the meeting, I heard … was informed” — she took a sip from the waiting glass of iced water — “that I have to terminate P — er, some people.”
“Oh my. So, the downsizing rumors were true.”
Her lips pressed together, Jade nodded.
“Are you allowed to tell who, exactly?”
Jade gripped the edge of the table. “Everyone will know soon enough this afternoon, so, why not?” She gave the name of two employees, then, taking in a quick gulp of air, added, “And Paul Johnson.”
“Hmm. Paul R.G., too, huh?” Suzy’s bracelets jingled as she rested her elbows on the table and considered the information. “What a shame. I’ll sure miss my daily dose of that dimple … . But I don’t mean to be shallow. This is sad.”
“Yeah.” For Jade, sad wasn’t the word. Tragic, panicked, that’s how she was feeling. As if her emotions would make any difference. “I haven’t had to do anything like this before. I don’t know how I’m going to handle it.”
Suzy looked puzzled. “I know it’s a really unpleasant task, but you can do it, Jade. You’re a professional. A good businesswoman.”
Jade chewed her lip. “I know. I am. At least, I thought I was. Partly I think I feel so bad because of projection. It’s like playing on my own fears.”
“How so?”
“Family history. My parents were young when I was born and completely into the hippie thing. Although it’s been different since Adrian came along, for the longest time they were pretty irresponsible. And always broke. We moved around a lot, even though our old car was forever breaking down. I was young, but I was always worried we wouldn’t make it.”
“Ah. I understand.”
Jade took a breath. Her fingers fiddled with the cutlery. Now that she’d started, she wanted to let it all out. “But that’s not all.”
Suzy cocked her head.
“You see” — Jade looked up — “the biggest problem is, this is Paul.”
Suzy’s expression showed even more puzzlement. “Apart from the fact he’s totally hot, why so?”
“He’s Peter.”
“Peter is Paul?” Suzy screwed up her face. “Jade, you’re not making sense.”
Jade gripped her hands together. How hard it was to reveal her indiscretion, but for her own sanity, she had to talk about it. “The guy I told you about.”
“Oh yeah. The good hard man.” Suzy gave a small smile and plucked the napkin from the bowl of the wine glass.
“I lied. His name isn’t Peter; it’s Paul.”
“Our Paul?” She flicked the cream damask square, opening it so it waved like a banner. “Old killer dimple R.G. himself?”
Jade nodded miserably.
Suzy sat back, grasping the napkin and plunking her hands into her lap. “Holy moly. Guess some people are born lucky.”
Jade had to smile at her uncharacteristic reaction. “And this from the happily married Suzy Wu.”
Her friend ignored that.
“By the way,” she leaned forward and peered into Jade’s face. “Did you find out what the initials stand for?”
“Yes. I did.”
“And?”
In answering, Jade found herself melting into reminiscences. When she came back to the moment, she fisted her hands. If she weren’t wearing her wig, she would have clutched at her hair. “Now you know why I’m a basket case.”
“Have you seen him yet? Today, I mean.”
“Passed him in the passage.” Jade stretched out her hands, palms up. “Oh Suzy, what am I going to do?”
Suzy took a while to think about that. “First of all, you’ll have to tell Paul he’s let go. No way around it. But I’d say you need to forget you’ve broken the corporate rule and dated a fellow employee. Keep things separate, just as you’ve done up until now. Otherwise, I can’t say. Looks like there’s trouble ahead. But then, life can’t ever be all smooth sailing.”
The waitress brought their salads.
Suzy picked up her fork and added. “In the meantime, there is one small piece of advice I can give you.”
“What’s that?”
“Remember the song about not taking it bad?”
She waved her fork as if it were a baton and started to sing.
Surprise held Jade still. Then she began to chuckle and felt a little better. She too picked up her fork. If she had to do this dreadful deed it would be better not to faint from hunger. Before returning to the agency, she’d go to the washroom. There, she’d give herself a pep talk, repair the damage, put on a mask, and prepare to give her darling Paul the axe.
• • •
Although most of his work was done on the computer, Paul often found it helpful to revert to the old way of sketching. As his pen moved easily on the paper, his mind wandered, almost catching the inspiration he was fishing for. So far today, nothing exactly brilliant had swum toward him. If he flung his net wide for a while, he was sure to come up with a few new ideas. Or not. Creativity, it seemed, was no bedfellow to bewilderment.
Why had Serendipity disappeared, gone without any warning, without any kind of good-bye? On Friday night, when she’d appeared out of the blue, he’d been so caught up in the magic of the moment he’d forgotten to ask how she’d arrived. Now he was left feeling like Prince Charming with no Cinderella. He didn’t even have a glass slipper as a souvenir. Only memories of one wonderful weekend. Or rather, two.
Had he scared her off somehow?
His thoughts were interrupted by a kind of rustling that wafted over the open-plan office, a change in atmosphere that heralded something was happening. He noticed two people heading from Jade Jellicoe’s office to the lunchroom, looking distressed. Before he could investigate, though, a woman’s approach distracted him. She stopped at his desk. Serendipity? The embodiment of his fantasies? Surely he was dreaming. Hallucinating at the very least. Yes, dammit. It wasn’t Serendipity, but Jade Jellicoe. How was it possible his boss’s outward appearance was so similar to Serendipity’s, her facial features and figure almost exactly alike, yet she displayed none of his love’s sweetness, spontaneity, or sense of fun?
He covered his sudden unease by acting deliberately cool. Lounging back in his chair, he stretched his legs out under the desk, and crossed his ankles. He acknowledged Jade’s presence with a raised brow.
“I need to see you in my office, Paul. Right away.”
With that she turned and stalked off.
Surprised at the curt tone, he threw down his pen. Jade might be standoffish and reserved, but she wasn’t usually quite so abrupt.
He pushed his chair away from the desk and followed the cold fish into her underwater cave. Well, maybe that was pushing it a bit. She wasn’t so bad. More uptight than anything else. And her office wasn’t dark, although it was decorated in cool sea colors.
She moved to the power position behind her desk, windows at her back so her face was in shadow, and sat down.
Warily, Paul seated himself. He saw her swallow.
She began speaking, her voice even huskier than usual. It had always puzzled him, that voice, as if it weren’t quite natural.
“As you know, recently the agency’s lost a couple of big accounts.”
He clasped his hands together, linking them over his knee. A sliver of disquiet slipped into him.
“I only just heard.”
“Of course. Uh, I forgot. You’ve been away on sick leave.” Her eyebrows rose, but otherwise there was no change in her expression. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Much.” He wasn’t about to elaborate when she might as well have been a computer screen, and a non-interactive one at that.
“Good.” She shifted on her chair, picked up a pen and tapped it end over end on the table.
Paul didn’t think he’d ever seen Jade ill at ease before. Usually she was annoyingly overconfident. So, what, exactly, was going on here?
Concerned at her request for a private meeting and the rumors of impending layoffs, he waited uneasily for her to say more. But as her silence lengthened, his brain refused to stay on task.
With an artist’s eye, his gaze drifted over her, starting at the top, at the smooth, long bob of her blond hair, lingering on her mouth, then drifting lower. Underneath the sharp business suit, were her breasts as firm, did the nipples peek as cheekily as Serendipity’s? My God, these thoughts were totally out of line. He was going crazy. Maybe he’d come back to work too early, or someone had slipped him something in his coffee. Somehow the hot beverage hadn’t tasted quite as good as when accompanied by one of those muffins Serendipity had brought … .
Still Jade kept quiet. Paul shifted. The silence had grown awkward.
She began elaborating on the situation the agency found itself in. Paul listened with half an ear, his gaze lowered to the kneehole under her desk, to where he could view her neat ankles. As usual, her feet were encased in plain court shoes. He narrowed his eyes, observing her shape, thinking about his sculpture.
Perhaps Jade sensed his distraction, because her next words were spoken in a sharp tone, which penetrated his daydreaming.
“Unfortunately, Paul, you are one of the most recent to be employed.”
His attention caught, he blinked at her. As she continued talking, a weird kind of detachment took hold of him, a strange kind of serenity. He was present, listening to her words, knowing they portended a big change in his life, yet they didn’t hold any real significance for him. There was something else of more importance, but he couldn’t quite capture what it was.
She leaned sideways and scratched her ankle. His gaze followed her hand. He saw the irritable red mark of an insect bite and … something else, something under, no, on the skin.
A tattoo.