“But you couldn’t see him?”
“No, but I’m sure he’s just as wonderful and handsome as
you say. Besides, he’s got to be something special to bring
such a smile to your face.”
Mica hugged her. “He is.”
“Well, I hope so. After all, you wouldn’t give Richard
another penny, and here you are giving away a fortune!”
Mica laughed with Katie as she kissed her good-bye, but
on the drive back to her apartment she thought about what her
friend had said.
Why had she decided to give Logan all her money when
that had been a major rift in her relationship with Richard?
Soft brown eyes came to mind, the corners crinkled in laughter.
Other images intruded—Logan fighting the nasty Mr. Jacobs
when he beat up a child, Logan working harder than anyone to
put out fires and repackage the indigo. The list could go on
and on.
Mica knew he didn’t do it for himself, although he was
proud of his accomplishments. He did what he needed to protect
what had been left in his care—the island, the people—her.
She cried herself to sleep that night, but for the first time
since her return, it was a cleansing cry, not one of self-pity.
She felt good about what she had to do, and she didn’t care if
she had to work another fifty years to regain her stock options.
She had no use for the money, anyway, so she might as well
ensure Logan’s success.
The next two days proved extremely stressful. Not only
did Mica worry about Matthew’s progress, but her current case
left her wondering why she had become an attorney.
Seaboard Enterprises had always been a reputable client
until now. They were one of the largest corporations in
Charleston, and she had conducted mergers and international
trade agreements on their behalf. Then sexual harassment
charges were filed against the company and Samuel Clancy,
an employee. Her father hadn’t allowed her to transfer this
case to a subordinate.
Samuel Clancy was guilty—had as much as confessed—
but she couldn’t betray a client’s confidence. She came home
from court feeling soiled and used, and she stood in the shower
long minutes to wash away the emotional dirt.
By Wednesday evening she had reached the end of her
endurance. She shut off the phone the minute she walked into
the apartment. She didn’t even want to hear the answering
machine. After her shower, she pulled on soft, silk pajamas
and uncorked a bottle of wine. Curling up in a chair by the
window, she tried to clear her mind as rain battered the
windows.
More rain. The coast should be out of the hurricane season
by now, but the weather bureau still predicted the current
tropical storm would intensify by the weekend. It was probably
a good thing she intended to visit Sea Crest, just to make sure
things were secure. Although she didn’t have any plans to sell
the place or to live there, she still had the responsibility for its
upkeep.
The bottle clinked against her crystal glass as she refilled
it. A glass of wine normally calmed her nerves and helped her
relax, but for whatever reason, it didn’t work tonight. A
disquieting shroud engulfed her, and it had nothing to do with
her current case. Something gnawed at her from the inside—
something intangible but still making its presence felt.
“In-two-three-four-five,” Mica breathed deeply. “Out-two-
three-four-five.” Her counselor had taught her the breathing
exercise. Usually it worked. Tonight it didn’t.
Nothing worked. Half a bottle of wine later, she crawled
into bed, determined to sleep. When she closed her eyes,
Logan’s countenance came immediately to view, and Mica
contented herself with thoughts of him. She had visualized
several scenarios for giving him the gold, but each ended with
her leaving him. Each time with more heartache than the last.
She finally decided she must go to the other side during
the day, when he would be gone. She would leave him a note,
of course, but she didn’t think she could bear to see him. She
buried her face in her pillow, hoping to dream of him, as she
did every night, knowing her dreams were all she had.
***
“Thursday, the thirteenth day of September, two thousand
one. The Court of the State of South Carolina is hereby in
session. Case number 560-483, Melissa Reynolds vs. Samuel
Clancy and Seaboard Enterprises,” the bailiff intoned in a dry,
hollow voice.
The judge’s gavel pounded in the silence as though it
hammered directly on Mica’s brain. She stood beside her clients.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor, we have. The jury finds in the case of
the defendant, Samuel Clancy, not guilty on all charges. In the
case of the codefendant, Seaboard Enterprises, not guilty on
all charges.”
“The Court of the State of South Carolina thanks the jury
for their verdict and their time, and they are now dismissed.
This court stands adjourned.” The gavel pounded again.
Mica snapped her briefcase shut with a sigh. She had
nothing to say to her client, who stood there with a huge macho
smile, as though he expected her to be happy with the verdict.
How could she be, when she knew beyond any reasonable doubt
he was guilty as charged?
Hell, the bastard had propositioned her more times than
she could count, and in his firm’s corporate boardroom, no
less, when she had to see him on business. In her mind, his
employers, Seaboard Enterprises, were just as guilty for backing
his claim of innocence.
She recalled her visit with the plaintiff, Melissa Reynolds,
in the process of trying to negotiate a settlement. She wasn’t a
headliner. She hadn’t been out to create a scandal or to climb
the corporate ladder. She had only wanted her executive position
and the right to work in a harassment-free atmosphere. Now,
she had neither, because the company would find some way to
eliminate her position and thereby dispose of the unobliging
Ms. Reynolds.
Mica should be happy that she had accomplished her job.
She had removed the blemish from Seaboard’s corporate image,
and the exorbitant fee she would charge them for doing so would
be paid without a quiver of conscience on their part. Mica
tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and turned to leave
the courtroom.
“Let me buy you a drink, Michaela.” The touch on her arm
drew goose bumps.
“Mr. Clancy, my name is Ms. Chadwick. And no, I do not
care to drink with you.” Or ever see your lecherous face again,
she longed to add, yet knew she couldn’t. “You’ll receive a
statement from our firm.”
Her cool remarks dismissed him as surely as her rigid back.
She turned to her secretary, Suzy, who had just hurried into the
courtroom, and she welcomed the interruption.
&nb
sp; “Ms. Taylor called twice, but since her case is in settlement,
I told her you would be in contact and she needn’t call back.”
Mica quickened her pace. She didn’t care about Helen
Taylor. She didn’t even care about winning again. She had an
inexplicable urge to get as far away from Charleston as possible.
Right now. Her breathing quickened. Her determination to leave
was so intense she didn’t catch the deliberate pause in her
secretary’s recitation until they stepped into the elevator.
“Well, what is it you don’t want to tell me?” One glance at
Suzy’s face, and Mica knew the answer even before the other
woman spoke.
“Richard called.”
“Damn!” The elevator doors opened on a rush of humanity,
precluding further discussion until they walked into the
underground parking lot. Mica wasn’t about to ask for
particulars, but Suzy proceeded to tell her anyway.
“He wanted an appointment. When I told him I didn’t
schedule your personal matters, he said this was business.”
“I told him two weeks ago I wouldn’t bail him out again.
I’m already paying him plenty.” The mention of her ex-husband
still fueled Mica’s anger. So much so, she jammed the wrong
key into the car’s lock. The high-pitched screech of the alarm
obscured the remainder of the not-so-polite adjectives she used
to describe him.
She took a deep breath, held it for the count of five, then
slowly exhaled. Her hands shook too hard to remove the key.
Without a word, Suzy took over, inserting the correct key to
open the door, and then punching the alarm button. The instant
quiet soothed Mica’s nerves. She dropped her chin to her chest
and closed her eyes for an instant.
“Cancel or reschedule tomorrow’s appointments.” She
tossed her briefcase onto the back seat of the Cougar as she
gave instructions to her ever-faithful secretary. “I’m driving to
Sea Crest, but under no circumstances are you to tell anyone
where I am.” She didn’t have to say who anyone meant. She
slid behind the wheel, but didn’t start the engine. Suzy was
probably the only person who had any idea what Mica had
gone through the past six months.
“Thanks, Suzy. You’ll never know...”
“Yeah, I do.” Suzy grinned and gave her arm a pat.
***
By the time Mica crossed town, Matthew had left for the
day, making her wait until the following morning to receive a
cashier’s check for her stocks. Disregarding his arguments that
she wait until he completed the sale of her blue chip stocks,
she took what he had managed to convert and raced back across
town to Castle & Noble Investment House. Matthew had called
ahead, and they were expecting her.
Panic had seized her yesterday outside the courthouse, and
she felt compelled to hurry up the coast as fast as possible.
The restlessness she had felt the night before descended on her
with a vengeance. She couldn’t explain it, but she didn’t doubt
it had something to do with Logan.
They asked no questions at Castle & Noble, for which she
was grateful. She signed the necessary papers as they counted
out her gold in American Eagles. Even dated, the gold coins
would travel through time and Mica figured she could worry
about melting it down later. Given the current price of three-
hundred-ninety dollars per troy ounce, she left with a briefcase
containing only seventeen pounds of twenty-four carat gold.
She didn’t know how much purchasing power the gold
would have in 1850, but she figured it would be a lot more
than today, considering the inflation they experienced. It really
didn’t matter. The gold would help see Logan and his people
through this year’s rough times, at least.
Mica turned north onto Highway 17. There was no reason
to stop at her apartment. She had clothes at Sea Crest, and
didn’t plan on staying long, anyway. What would happen after
that she had no idea. She didn’t want to visualize her life at
some later date, so she concentrated only on getting to Sea
Crest before the storm hit.
“Damn!” Mica slammed on the brakes as taillights in front
of her blinked red. Traffic slowed to a stop, but with the rain
beating against her windshield, even the wipers couldn’t help
her see the cause.
She jumped when a large hand knocked at her window.
Rolling it down just enough to see out, she spied a yellowslickered
highway patrolman, water running off the brim of
his hat.
“Sorry, ma’am, but we’re closing Highway 17 due to the
storm. You’ll have to return to Charleston.”
“But Officer, this highway is always open for evacuation.
Besides, I have a home at Cameron, and I need to see that
everything is boarded up.” A heaviness squeezed her heart, and
she felt an even greater sense of urgency.
“We have reports of gusty winds near the coast, and
motorists are advised not to travel. We’re just trying to protect
you, ma’am.” Mica could tell by his tone that the officer was
in no mood to argue, but neither was she.
She rolled up her window, made a U-turn as other cars
were doing, and drove south. At the first intersection, she turned
west. Having grown up in the area, she knew every back road
and circular route, some of which weren’t even on a map. In a
matter of minutes, she was again headed north through a
She encountered very little traffic and no police. Apparently
the highway patrol had focused their efforts on the main
highways, which didn’t surprise her. In all the years she had
lived through hurricanes, evacuation always occurred on the
four-lane roads, not the county byways.
She drove at a reasonable speed, not stopping at any of the
little towns that crowded the highway. Visibility dropped to
zero at times, compelling her to slow down to avoid going off
onto the shoulder. When her hands cramped from gripping the
steering wheel, she forced herself to relax, reaching down to
flick the knob on her radio.
A soothing melody coursed through her—a melody that
reminded her of the time she and Logan had loved the night
away in the music room. She could almost see him as he
caressed the piano keys, his music wrapping her in warmth
and love.
Thomas Logan Rutledge. She recalled the many times he
had praised her for helping him, and his unfailing faith in her
ability and willingness to share in his life. She finally
understood the turmoil of the last few weeks, especially after
her day in court where she would rather have been on the losing
side.
While her clients paid their bills, they didn’t go out of their
way to express their appreciation. Even her father took her for
granted in terms of her efforts. He just expected her to win
cases and negotiate international trade agreements because that
was what she had
been trained to do.
Useless. That was exactly the word to describe her current
life. Entrenched in the family law firm that specialized in
corporate law and worked with only the largest corporations
in Charleston, she didn’t feel she made any contribution to
society. Especially when a scum like Samuel Clancy still had
his job.
Aggravation mounted as she mentally catalogued her dull,
responsible life. She couldn’t say she had never felt needed,
but lately that feeling had been replaced by dissatisfaction, not
to mention boredom and restlessness. Yet she felt caught in a
perpetual cycle from which she had no hope of extricating
herself.
The rain lessened, and Mica sped up, anxious to arrive at
Sea Crest. She tried not to think about encountering Logan.
Instead, she concentrated on the necessary precautions needed
to take at the bed & breakfast, just in case this storm escalated
in strength and moved up the coast.
Static erupted on the radio, and she punched the button for
another station. The song was cut short by the DJ’s voice.
“It’s Friday, September fourteenth, and this is the latest
bulletin from the National Hurricane Center. Hurricane Charley
is expected to hit the South Carolina coast near Charleston late
tonight or early tomorrow morning. Residents are advised to
take necessary precautions and seek shelter inland.”
Mica stomped on the accelerator. She had to get to Logan
before the hurricane hit. If she didn’t…
She didn’t let herself finish the thought, because she knew
that if she didn’t get there in time, she might never see Logan
again.
Thirteen
Mica arrived at Sea Crest to find Anna firmly in control.
Workmen had boarded up the windows and were just closing
and latching the front shutters. Mica dropped her briefcase in
the apartment, then went to check the food and water storage.
Hopefully, Charley would veer out to sea and their supplies
would not be necessary.
“Did you reschedule the guests for flights home?” she asked
Anna as they hurried through the house to the kitchen in search
of flashlights.
“Most of our reservations were up yesterday, and since
flights have been canceled, our newest guests won’t arrive until
after the storm has passed. That just leaves two rooms