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Chapter Fifteen. It was first light when Annabel finally stopped reading through her aunt’s letters and diaries, but the beauty of the new day was lost on her






It was first light when Annabel finally stopped reading through her aunt’s letters and diaries, but the beauty of the new day was lost on her. Dazed, she went into the kitchen and mechanically brewed a pot of extra strength espresso.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she had registered something odd about yesterday. Her eyes strayed past the handset on her bureau, and she remembered. The Dominie. She hadn’t heard it return. It was possible she had been so absorbed in her reading she hadn’t noticed the familiar throaty hum of the flyover, but she doubted it. Besides, Cody hadn’t arrived for dinner, and Annabel couldn’t imagine her just not turning up.

With stiff fingers she poured coffee into her mug and carelessly gulped the hot, bitter liquid. She felt curiously numb, assailed by a sense of unreality. Her eyes swept the living area, halting at a large portrait of Aunt Annie. Why? she asked wordlessly. Craving some fresh air, she stalked out onto the verandah and stood propped against the rail, gazing absently out to sea.

The morning breeze was unexpectedly cool, making her skin goosebump. She took a deep breath, drawing in the rich, honey musk scent of frangipani and the sweet sharpness of lime. On the slopes below, spires of rose-tinted creamy flowers clouded the mango trees, rising like clusters of spicy candles from the glistening wine-tinted leaves. This place was drowning in flowers, she thought.

Her head felt foggy with fragrance, overcrowded with a crush of fragmented memories.

Her father. Poor Ann… more unstable by the year.

Her mother. Don’t be so hard on her, Theo, she’s had a difficult time.

A “difficult time”. Understatement of the year. Engaged to a man whose advances she detested and who had finally raped her, resulting in a pregnancy—in Lucy. Annie had moved to Moon Island after the baby was born and for almost two years she and Rebecca had lived in absolute bliss. Her diaries so clearly documented her happiness, her absolute passion for Rebecca, the magic of their time together.

Just after Lucy’s second birthday, Rebecca reluctantly traveled to New York for her brother’s wedding and to attend to what Annie had described as “family matters.” Annie had wanted to accompany her, but Lucy had just recovered from a fever and the two women decided the long trip by steamer and airplane would be too difficult for the toddler.

Two months later Rebecca was killed in a car accident, only days before she was due to return. By the time Annie learned what had happened, her lover had already been buried.

Rebecca’s family contested her will, in which everything had been left to Annie. And they won, for Annie was so devastated she simply couldn’t face a legal battle. Fortunately for her, the “family matters” Rebecca had mentioned included transferring Moon Island and a substantial portion of her investments entirely into Annie’s name, transactions uncannily completed in the week before her death. Much of Annie’s wealth had originated with these assets.

Shattered by her loss, Annie traveled back home to Boston. What happened there Annabel could only guess. Her aunt had left no diaries for almost ten years. Annabel turned the house upside down, opening roll after roll of letters, skimming through every paper she could find. It was as though the missing years did not exist. And, worst of all, it seemed that Lucy had disappeared off the face of the earth. The child was never mentioned again.

Annabel gazed into the glare of the morning, hands pressed to her throbbing temples. She felt choked, but unable to cry. She could remember times with her aunt, stilted conversations over dinner, her parents looking on with mask-like smiles and another emotion in their eyes. Anger? Fear?

Aunt Annie had once invited her to Moon Island, but her parents had forbidden the trip, and the invitation had never been repeated. On one of the rare occasions she had been alone with her aunt as a child, Annabel could remember glowing with pleasure at her kind words, her support. They had talked for hours, Annabel confiding her worst fears about being shunned because of her albinism, about feeling unloved and unlovable. She remembered now what Annie had said. Love is always there for us. But we have to look it in the face, expose our tender self. Sometimes it’s easier to hide.

As time went by, Annabel developed a special bond with her aunt and made it her business to see her as often as she could. Annie divided her time between San Francisco and her beloved island, and after graduation, Annabel became her aunt’s frequent guest at the Russian Hill apartment. It was Annie who shared her grief over the breakup with Clare. Yet never once had she mentioned her own tragedy, her life with Rebecca, her child.

Annabel felt oddly hurt by this. Annie had loved her, yet apparently she had not trusted her enough to share these secrets. Did she think Annabel would judge her as harshly as others had? Why was Lucy never spoken of? Had something awful happened to her?

Exhausted, Annabel took a shower and crawled into bed. Despite the coffee, she could not keep her eyes open. She would sleep, she decided. Then she would go find Cody. It was time they talked.

 

Annabel glanced about her and realized her feet had carried her automatically to Hibiscus Villa.

“Cody, ” she called. The door was locked. Annabel sat down on the verandah.

They must have stayed in Rarotonga for some reason, her common sense informed her. What if they hadn’t? What if something was wrong? A wild panic gripped her and she bolted back along the path. She was panting hard by the time she reached her front door. Heart pounding, she rushed inside and radioed Bevan Mitchell.

The response was immediate. “Moon Radio. This is Dominie two-one-eight-five. I read you. Over.”

“Where are you? ” Annabel burst out. “Over! ”

“At five hundred feet. Twelve o’clock high. Out.”

Annabel slammed down the set and marched outside just in time to see the little plane circle her house and then carry on to the airstrip. Furious, she stalked back indoors, gathered up her riding gear, and headed straight for Kahlo’s stable.

 

“Where the hell have you been? ” She glared at Bevan.

He pulled on his cigarette. “Don’t tell me you thought I’d gone and committed suicide out there. I’m touched.”

Annabel bit her lip. She was behaving like an idiot. Distractedly, she demanded. “Where’s Cody? ”

Bevan removed the cigarette and Annabel noticed him stiffen. “She left this morning, ” he said quietly.

“Left? ” Annabel’s mouth went dry.

“We tried to make radio contact with you yesterday and again this morning, but we couldn’t raise you.” He felt about in his shirt and produced a folded slip of paper. “She asked me to give you this.”

Annabel stared down at it for a moment, then stuffed it into her pocket.

“She seemed upset, ” the pilot added carefully.

“Did she—” Annabel tried to frame a question.

“She was traveling back to New Zealand, ” Bevan told her. “That’s all I know. I’m sorry.”

Annabel gave him a nod, then, on shaking legs, mounted Kahlo and reined her toward the beach. “I won’t be coming tomorrow, ” she told the pilot. “There’s just one guest to meet. Can you handle everything? ”

“No problem.” He started unloading the plane. “I’ll radio when we get here.”

With a brief wave of thanks, Annabel rode off.

Cody had gone. Right when she needed her. I’ve gambled and lost, Annabel reflected bitterly. It had probably been naive to expect any degree of commitment from someone who was still getting over the breakup of a long-term relationship. All the same, she felt let down. Cody had no doubt intended to come back to Moon Island last night—if only to collect her stuff from Hibiscus Villa. They would have spoken of course, and Cody would have invented some bullshit reason for her hasty departure. Whatever was really going on for her, Annabel felt sure she would be kept in the dark.

Tears stinging, she whipped Kahlo into a gallop, weaving in and out of the surf until she reached the familiar crescent of Passion Bay. She slowed only as they neared the track to Villa Luna, tethering Kahlo in the late afternoon shade of a palm.

“I’ll be back soon, girl.” She patted the mare and strolled down toward the water’s edge, reaching into her pocket for Cody’s letter. It was empty.

Frowning, Annabel stuffed her hands into every other pocket, then ran frantically up the beach. The crumpled note she finally retrieved from the tide was soaked through. A wave flopped across her feet as she peeled it open. She stared in disbelief, then she tried to laugh. But the only sound that emerged was harsh sobbing.

Cody’s writing was dispersed across the page in a mass of inky rivulets. Only the first line was legible.

I’m sorry Annabel. I wanted to tell you, but…






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