occupied.”
“Two rooms—I thought you said everyone was out?” Mica
didn’t want to be responsible for others during a storm.
“The Barkers refused to leave, even though their time is
up. Said they couldn’t get a flight out because of the storm, so
they would just have to ride it out here.”
“Oh, great. I suppose they’re hoping the storm blows the
place down so it’ll be easier to search for their treasure.”
Anna laughed with her, though Mica was hardly kidding.
“Who else?” she asked.
“The professor’s reservations aren’t up for another week,
so he said he’d be glad to stay and keep me and the Barkers
company.”
Mica thought she detected a blush on Anna’s cheeks and
wondered if she had an infatuation for the gray-haired professor.
“Well, I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it now.
Until a couple of hours ago, I really thought this storm would
leave us alone. As long as our guests stay out of the way and
observe the rules, we should be all right. After all, Sea Crest
has weathered storms before. You have reviewed the rules with
them, haven’t you?”
“Yes, of course.” Anna ticked them off on her fingers, ”Stay
on the main floor away from the windows, leave the TV and
radio turned to the weather channel, and ration food and water.”
“Good. I’ll leave you to see to our guests. I need to make
sure all is secure in my apartment.” Using that excuse, Mica
hurried down the hall. She must get the gold upstairs before
the weather worsened.
She dumped her aunt’s jewelry from a small wooden chest
onto the bed. Flipping open the latches on her briefcase, she
began unrolling the gold American Eagles and dumping them
into the box. Regardless of whether paper would time travel,
she didn’t want Logan to see the telltale signs of modern
investment brokers.
Mica clicked the latch shut on the small box. She left her
apartment through the French doors, rounded the house through
the gardens and reentered in the kitchen. Since the guests had
all been instructed to remain on the main floor, she hoped they
wouldn’t detect her movement towards the stairs. The rain had
slowed to a drizzle, but the wind had picked up. She crossed
her fingers, hoping the outside noise would cover her footsteps.
As quietly as possible, she slipped around the corner and
sped up the stairs two at a time. She didn’t hesitate, but fit the
key in the lock and turned it, then she stepped through and
closed the door behind her. The unmistakable scent of beeswax
candles greeted her, and she wondered how she had ever thought
Indigo Bay was a simple extension of the existing bed and
breakfast.
The gold clinked as she shifted the box to her other arm.
The individual coins were small, but they were heavy when
you put a bunch of them together. Determined to leave her
present for Logan and be gone as fast as possible, she tiptoed
down the hall. She had almost reached the study when she
detected angry voices from beyond the partly open door.
“I want what’s due me! My father and I were stuck on this
stinking piece of dirt while you partied away your time up
North, attending balls and seducing all the women you could
find. How do you think I felt when I learned the will was entailed
and all my hard work was for nothing?”
Neil’s voice rose in anger, and Mica feared he might try to
harm Logan. She crept closer, trying to see around the corner
of the door without being spotted.
“You could hardly categorize as work what you and your
father did to this island,” Logan snorted. “If you had been in
control much longer, there would be nothing left.”
There was a pause, and Mica longed to see Logan’s face.
Before she could move, he continued the discussion.
“I told you no more, Neil. If you can’t make a contribution
to this island and its inhabitants, I refuse to give you any more
money to squander at the gambling tables.”
Logan’s voice held more exasperation than anger, and
Mica’s heart when out to him. Neil could be her ex-husband’s
“If you think I’m going to work side-by-side with darkies,
think again. There are other ways to insure I get what I deserve.”
Mica felt guilty listening to their private conversation and
she decided to leave the box in Logan’s bedroom. He must
have seen her shadow on the wall, however, for he called to
her as she turned.
“Michaela Marie, what are you doing here? It isn’t midnight
and the witching hour yet,” he said, sarcasm lacing his voice.
His face came into view when she stepped inside the
doorway and stopped. His brown eyes flashed with fury and
he looked as though he would throttle her.
“Did you come back, like Neil, in hopes I have to sign
over the island because my crops failed and I’m unable to pay
my debts?” He stood magnificently proud and stubborn. His
hair was tousled, as though he’d been out in the wind. His
white linen shirt clung to the contours of his work-hardened
chest.
She couldn’t blame him for being angry with her. She had
made a habit of disappearing. Still, he didn’t have to be quite
so rude, not after everything they had shared.
With deliberate strides, she walked to his desk. The gold
jingled as she thunked the wooden chest onto the desk and slid
it across the smooth surface close to where his hands rested. “I
came back to help, like I said I would.”
“You said many things, and some were far from believable.
I don’t know whether to trust your word—on any of it.” His
gaze locked with hers, and she recognized his hurt because of
her deception. His eyes, always portraying hope and laughter,
were now were full of betrayal and cynicism.
She had told him she loved him, but she couldn’t stay. She
had tried to warn him, but that didn’t make her sneaking out
on him right, and she knew it.
She gestured towards the box. “This will help, in case—”
“I don’t need your help.” He bit out the words, making no
move to open the box. He straightened to his full height, his
whole body offended by her gesture. His gaze flickered from
her to Neil. “Regardless of what you both might think, I can
take care of my own.”
He turned back to her. “I don’t need your charity. The
auction was held over a week ago. Though skeptical, most of
the buyers trust the Indigo Bay name enough they still bought
our dye. The price was only slightly lower than last year.”
“Oh, Logan, I’m happy for you, I really am.” Tears misted
her vision. His posture rejected both her money and her, and
she knew his stubborn pride would prevent him from accepting
her gift.
Neil moved closer to the desk, his green eyes flashing with
defiance. “This is all very touching, but it doesn’t
solve my
problem.” He reached for the box. “If your pride won’t allow
you to accept this lovely lady’s money, I most certainly have
no such scruples.”
With a flick of his wrist, he flipped open the box. “Holy
jumping mother of Moses! It’s full of gold!” He grabbed for
the glittering coins, only to have his wrist clinched by Logan.
“Get out, Neil.” Logan spoke harshly, but his penetrating
gaze never left Mica’s face. She paled, unable to understand
the emotions that washed across his features. “Leave the island
today, and don’t return until you’re willing to work.”
He released his grip on Neil’s wrist, thrusting him away as
he had the broken pieces of indigo.
Neil bristled, his gaze still on the gold. “There must be
thousands there. You don’t need it. You have your precious
island,” he sneered, his voice full of hate.
Logan slammed the lid shut. “Out!”
Neil backed slowly towards the door. “You can’t have it
all, Brother. Never fear, I will be back.” He roughly shoved
Mica aside, storming down the hallway.
Deadly silence spoke louder than words as Logan stared
across the width of the room. When Mica could stand it no
longer, she reached out a hand, pleading with her gaze that he
understand her motives—both in leaving and giving him the
gold.
“Logan?”
“I don’t need your gold, Michaela. I need you.” Angry
strides brought him right in front of her, and she stepped back.
“I need you here beside me, day in and day out, to share my
life and happiness. Can you do that? Or will I wake up one
morning and find you gone again?”
She gasped when he grabbed her upper arms and dragged
her into an embrace. Before she could answer his questions,
he kissed her. But instead of passion, his kiss was full of anger
and hunger and desperation. She clung to him, answering his
need with her own.
When he finally released her, she wept against his shoulder.
This had been her reason for not wanting to see him.
“I have to go,” she whispered brokenly.
His hands dropped to his sides, his breath soft and warm
against her temple. “I love you, Michaela Marie. Does that
count for naught?”
“I’m not what you need,” she said, sobbing even as she
backed towards the door.
“But you’re all I’ll ever want.” He turned his back on her,
and Mica knew he was giving her a choice. He wouldn’t stop
her this time, and he wouldn’t beg her to stay.
With a sob, she turned and fled.
***
Mica stood at the edge of the beach. She should be inside,
but everything had been done that could be done. The shutters
were up, food stored, lamps and flashlights available should
Hurricane Charley not go out to sea as predicted.
The wind had picked up considerably, tossing rain and sea
mist against her. She didn’t notice, because the moisture mixed
with the tears that slid silently down her face.
She turned and glanced down the beach. Apparently other
people on the island also thought Charley would veer away.
Quite a few lights flickered from the many homes on the
waterfront—homes she no longer thought of as part of Logan’s
Indigo Bay.
Pieces of litter blew against her legs. She yelled out angrily,
“Why are you trying to destroy Logan’s island?” The wind
provided no answer to her fury.
She hugged herself against the bits of blowing sand, her
tears obscuring the rolling clouds and black horizon. How could
her life have changed so radically in such a short time? Could
she honestly go back to Charleston and resume her life? She
laughed, a mirthless echo against the strengthening wind.
Her life seemed only to have begun with Logan. He had
shown her the marvels of unspoiled beauty, hard work and love.
He had opened her eyes to the wonders shared by two people
working towards a common goal.
If she returned to Charleston, Logan would be lost to her
forever. He said he wanted her—her love, her undivided
attention—not her money or any other material thing she had
to offer. It had been heartbreaking to leave him, his stiff back
turned to her, not in rejection, but in affirmation of her right to
choose. She loved him all the more for allowing her that right,
though she wished it could be otherwise. Could she go to him
now, only for the weekend, and not want to stay wrapped in
his arms forever?
She clutched the key she wore—the talisman to her dreams.
“What should I do? How am I to live without him?” Her cries
of anguish faded into the coming night, and her tears mingled
with the salt spray from the breakers.
The wind answered this time, for above the thunder of ocean
and storm, she heard the sweet melody of a waltz. Compelling
and exotic, it beckoned her. She began to run, realizing at last
that she really had no choice. The decision had been made more
than a century before. With each step, her heart pounded,
anxious to claim that which she had almost denied forever.
Abruptly, every light along the shore went out, forcing Mica
to slow her pace. Knowing from past experience that the storm
would keep the electricity out for the duration, she hesitated.
Should she check on her guests before abandoning her aunt’s
home forever?
“I’m not really leaving,” she whispered as she trotted up
the path. “I’ll always take good care of your island, Aunt Theo.”
She sent a silent thank you to her beloved aunt, for without her
gift of Sea Crest, Mica might never have found Logan.
She had the distinct feeling Aunt Theo and Logan’s Aunt
Margaret had planned this from the very beginning. Mica only
wished they had made it easier, but then she might not have
appreciated what she had found in Logan.
She entered the kitchen, feeling her way along the south
wall to avoid stubbing a toe on the appliances. A flickering
light in the vicinity of the living room caught her eye, and she
carefully made her way in that direction.
Two indefinable shapes huddled on the sofa in the dark.
The flashlight blinked on and off in the corner, but the small
circle of light did little to illuminate the room.
“Anna?” Mica took a cautious step forward.
One of the dark silhouettes answered. “Yes, it’s me. The
batteries must not be very good.”
Mica moved towards the couch as her manager continued
nervously, “Never did care for storms. Most of the time, I go
up to Orlando and stay with my sister. Even if a hurricane comes
inland, it usually loses its punch before it hits Molly’s.”
Anna’s wistful voice reminded Mica that soon the older
woman would be in full charge of Sea Crest. Mica now
wondered if she could handle it.
“Mrs. Harris, there’s something you should know.”
“Now, dear, don’t worry about me. I just get a li
ttle
melancholy when a storm hits. You see, I lost my husband in a
storm at sea. He was a fisherman.” She spoke to no one in
particular, but Mica understood her need for conversation to
chase away her fears.
She had moved close enough to recognize Mr. Barker sitting
next to Anna, his bald head glowing in the meager light. That
could only mean the domineering Mrs. Barker had control of
the only other light.
Mica turned toward that corner of the sitting room. Nadine
Barker had begun pulling books from the shelves. The
flashlight, tucked under one arm, cast distorted shadows on
the wall.
“Mrs. Barker, I’d prefer you stay away from the windows.
Come over here with the rest of us. Besides, you have no right
to dig through the personal library.”
“I’m not going to sit in the middle of the room like a ninny,
just because of a little storm. Besides, we’re so close to
discovery. Harold, come here and hold this damned light.” She
tapped the flashlight against her palm as it went out again. As
though God took exception to Mrs. Barker’s criticism of His
handiwork, a roll of thunder, followed by a loud crash, echoed
from above.
Anna twisted her hands in agitation. “I do hope that wasn’t
Professor Bigley. He refused to come downstairs, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.” Mica sighed but headed for the stairs.
Why was it that when she had finally reached a satisfactory
conclusion to her personal dilemma, everything began working
against her? She certainly couldn’t chance going through the
door with the professor upstairs.
“Professor Bigley, where are you?” She kept one hand on
the banister as she crept up the stairs and turned down the hall.
She had just reached his door when it slammed open. The
professor and his squealing ghost machine tumbled out into
the hall.
“Sorry. Had to go back for more film. I accidentally
knocked over the water pitcher and bowl.” He didn’t slow down,
but tossed his explanation over a shoulder as he hurried towards
the far end of the corridor. Right towards the door to Indigo
Bay!
Mica’s breath caught. Surely he couldn’t know. She tried
to calm herself as she raced to catch up with him.