Nature Of Desire: Mirror Of The Soul Page 30

  Tyler stilled as Brendan inclined his head, acknowledging that he now had his unwilling host’s full attention.

  “I only knew her for six months before I was adopted.” His lips twisted. “I was lucky. These looks of mine were from birth. And even more fortunate, it was a good family.”

  When he shifted, Tyler remembered his manners though it was an effort. “Let’s sit down in here.”

  Brendan followed him to the sitting room, sat tensely on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward, his hands clasped together.

  “In the orphanage, she was known as the girl that never talked to anyone, that looked through you. But she didn’t look through me, though I don’t know why. I guess I was lucky in a lot of ways. Maybe God decided a kid that had lost his parents deserved all the breaks he could get, though a lot of kids who deserve them don’t get them. Like her.” He shook his head. “When I was alone and frightened, crying into my pillow at night, she’d show up by my bed like this pale ghost. Scoot me over, play games with me, tell me stories. Always during the night. During the day she kept to herself. But if I got afraid or worried, or just needed her, I’d go stand by her, by this chair she sat in by the window. Eventually she’d just pull me into her lap. I didn’t make her talk and she just held me.”

  His expression darkened. “I heard the whispers in the orphanage. In a way, it’s like prison. You know everything about each other. I wasn’t old enough to understand a lot of what I heard then, but I remembered. And I saw her scars when she came to my bed at night. She wore this oversized nightshirt and it would slip off her shoulder, so I could see. I touched them once and she just sat still, let me do it, but said I didn’t need to know what they were.

  “That same night, she curled up around me like she usually did, stroked my hair like my mother did until I fell asleep. But I woke up a little while later to find her holding me so tight, shaking, her face buried in my hair. She was crying for ‘David’. I told her she could call me David if it made her feel better. In hindsight, I know she was sleeping in my bed as much for herself as for me.”

  Tyler could not speak, the images Brendan was creating too powerful for interruption. He waited silently as the man drew a deep breath, continued. “When I got a pair of potential parents interested in me, I decided I couldn’t leave her. It felt wrong. So I asked them if they would adopt Marie, too. They were good people, as I said. They even talked to the director about it. But the court case was still going on and plus…” He lifted a shoulder. “They looked at the psychiatric report on her. They were good, kind people who wanted to adopt a little boy without complicated baggage. Even though you never get over the desperate fear of abandonment, I think…” His color rose, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “No, I know why I put up with Tim’s bullshit as long as I did instead of knocking him on his ass as he deserved. But it wasn’t near as severe as what she’d been through.

  “I was going to refuse to go with them, but Marie told me it would make her happy to know I had a good home, people who loved me and that I needed to go. When I left, I offered her my teddy bear.” The corner of his mouth twitched in a semi-embarrassed smile and he looked toward the Isis statue on Tyler’s coffee table. “I know it sounds like a stupid, sentimental thing now…”

  Tyler found it difficult to maintain any significant level of jealousy at the emotion in Brendan’s voice, the honesty reflected in his tone. “It doesn’t sound stupid in any way.”

  “But she wouldn’t keep it.” The man’s face was a mixture of memory and regret, but admiration as well. “She was old enough to know that when I went to bed that night in my new home, with these two strangers who had become my new parents, I would desperately need something of my past to hold. She took a ribbon out of her hair and tied it around the bear’s neck. Told me he’d watch over me for her. I’ve never met anyone like her, Master Tyler. Not even since. So damaged and yet she never stopped trying to protect someone who needed it.

  “I didn’t see her again for twenty years. Never expected to. And then my friends took me to The Zone and I knew her. Remembered the eyes, the hair. Even then, so young, she had a presence.”

  “Did she know you?”

  “No. I think there’s a big difference in the way you look at six versus twenty-six. And I never told her. I just…she was right. Tim was abusing me. I dumped him. At the moment I’m enjoying being on my own, thinking about what I really want. She came back into my life and gave me a gift. Again. I meant everything I said about the brand. I wanted her mark on the outside, because she’d already left it inside. She’s my Mistress,” he said determinedly, even as Tyler’s expression became more forbidding. “Now and forever. And I love and honor her as such.

  “I thought… Something told me to get in the car and come here and ask. I just had this feeling that she needs something from me and I swore to serve her. So with your permission, Master Tyler, I’d like to see her and talk to her, visit with her awhile. Today and maybe after that. And help you take care of her, if there’s an appropriate way for me to do that. I’m available as long as you think I can be useful.”

  Tyler studied him. The story was remarkable. He knew as well as Brendan that there were few coincidences on that scale in life. And on top of that, there was nothing he wouldn’t attempt to bring Marguerite back. To revive that ghost of a smile he’d started to see more often. To repeat that one miraculous burst of laughter he’d heard when she ran toward the chapel, her hair wet ropes of silk across her shoulders. Brendan might just be a stroke of fate sent to accomplish that. Hell, he was ready to shave his head and become a cult leader if it would work. Or worse, jump out of an airplane. The grim humor, offered to himself as if he could anticipate sharing it with her to coax out one of those smiles, gave him some hope, just as Brendan’s presence did.

  “All right.” He rose, gestured. “She’s out on the Gulf side lawn. Let’s go find her. And Brendan?”

  “Sir?” He kept the polite, formal address and Tyler didn’t disabuse him of it, though he appreciated the man’s sensitivity, underscoring his presence was not intended to usurp his host’s.

  “Follow that instinct that brought you here. Don’t worry about territory and bullshit. I’ll deal with whatever I have to deal with, but she’s the most important thing.”

  Brendan nodded. Cleared his throat. “She loves you, Master Tyler. It was obvious to everyone the other night. Obvious to those who know how to really see. I have no intentions of pretending otherwise. You’re right. She’s the most important thing.”

  There was a hammock down near the water, strung between two of the live oaks. Sarah had gotten Marguerite ensconced in it, a glass of tea and a book of Japanese poetry Gen had brought over close at hand should she show interest in anything other than staring or sleeping. Marguerite’s back was to them, her hair whispering back and forth over the curve of her shoulder as the breeze played off the water, rocked the hammock. Robert rose at their approach, nodded. At Tyler’s glance, he left them. Resisting impulse, Tyler took his place in the chair, nodded at Brendan to go forward.

  The man ducked under the hammock tie and knelt facing her. Taking the small duffel bag he’d brought off his shoulder, he put it on the ground next to him.

  Her eyes were open and they shifted slowly to him. It startled Brendan, for he remembered the distance that had been in them when she was a teenager at the orphanage. When he’d met her again twenty years later, it had been much improved. The reserve had still been there, which was perhaps why he’d hesitated to identify himself to her, but she’d become more present in her own life. The eyes he looked into now were the eyes of that fourteen-year-old. Once again indifferent to life, careless of death, waiting for it. Maybe not even having the energy to embrace it. But he had to believe it was surface, a haven of retreat. Twenty years did not disappear in a day.

  “Mistress.” He said it with soft reverence. “Great lady. I understand you’ve been performing great deeds of late.”

  She blinked. />
  “I don’t want to offend you by being here, but I felt I owe you a debt of gratitude,” he pressed on. “One I can’t ever repay, but I’m hoping you’ll allow me one gesture at least.” He opened the bag, removed a much worn and well-loved teddy bear from it. Around its neck was a faded ribbon that might have once been blue. Thinking of it clasped in a boy’s arms, Tyler expected it to be bigger, rather than the small toy that Brendan held easily.

  “You remember this?”

  He took Marguerite’s hand and laid it over the bear. When her fingers curled into it after a moment, Tyler leaned forward. She drew it out of Brendan’s grasp, brought it in to her body where he could no longer see it from the back. He wished the chair were over where he could see her face, but he didn’t want to move and interfere. From watching Brendan’s changing expressions, he sensed that it would be beneficial for him to stay quiet, unobtrusive.

  “I didn’t think you remembered me. But I remembered you. I know you’re tired of all the awfulness. I don’t know why wonderful people sometimes have to deal with so much evil. But sometimes you meet a person who’s gone through so much that she never forgets what’s really important in this life. Who makes everyone around her feel privileged to know her. Who refuses to keep a little boy’s teddy bear, even though he knows now she had more need of it than he did. Who made him take it because she thought he might suffer one less pang of fear or loneliness if he had it with him.

  “Do you know the lone survivor syndrome? You’re the only one who survives, so you wish you had died with your family. You know there’s nothing you could have done or will do that will make their deaths worth it, that will explain why you survived and they didn’t. As the years go on, you realize you won’t be the person who finds the cure for cancer or ends poverty. But I want you to think about what you gave me. What you’ve given to Marius, all the subs at The Zone.” He nodded, apparently responding to something he saw in her expression. “You look doubtful. But maybe it isn’t important that you’re saving masses or even saving one person. It’s that you make the effort to save anyone, because when you reach out to save anyone, you’re saying that person is important, worthwhile, they’re needed. That they’re an intrinsic part of all of us.”

  His eyes full of open, unconditional love for her, he reached out, apparently put his hands over hers on the bear.

  “I want you to have this as a reminder of how you changed my life. There are reasons to stay here. Not just because we need you, but I think because you need us. I know you’ve been thinking about having another session with me.” His tone changed, became teasing. He actually winked, his demeanor as comfortable as if she’d been fully herself. “Or at least, I hope you have. And Master Tyler, he’s like a puppy around you. What other woman could beat him up and have him come back for more?

  “Now there’s a hint of a smile.” Brendan glanced up, exchanged a look with Tyler. The man reached forward, uttered a quiet murmur that came to Tyler on the breeze.

  “With your permission, lady.”

  Brendan stroked her hair from her temple, laid his palm against her cheek. “We love you, Mistress. Very much.”

  It got quiet, just the wind from the water and the cry of a heron drifting to them. Then Tyler heard Marguerite speak.

  “Water.”

  Brendan leaned toward the iced tea, but he stopped as she spoke again. “Water.”

  Brendan glanced behind him, at the banks of the Gulf, then over at Tyler. Her right arm lifted, pointing.

  Tyler rose, his concern propelling him to his feet. “Watch her collarbone and the left arm,” he said. The other man inclined his head, put his arms into the hammock and lifted her out. Her arms were folded up against herself, her skirt fluttering over his tanned arm. Turning carefully, he moved toward the water’s edge, Tyler right behind him.

  “Down there… On the bank.” Marguerite’s voice again.

  When Brendan set her down at the water’s edge, Tyler stood within arm’s reach behind her, Brendan in front of her, both men wary, protective. Tyler didn’t have to convey his concern; he was sure it was obvious in his eyes. And perhaps because of Brendan’s memories of her, he understood immediately where Sarah had not and stayed just as close to her.

  Marguerite stood, looking out at the movement of the water, the blue sky, a formation of pelicans soaring above.

  “Your adopted parents were good to you.” She spoke as succinctly as if they’d been having an interactive conversation all along, though Tyler saw her lick her dry lips, swallow.

  “Yes, Mistress. I love them.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Children will love a monster if we think it’s family. We love against everything that says don’t love.” She stared at the water moving around her ankles. “Did you know I’ve spent years donating my grandparents’ inheritance to different charities, not in spite of, but for love of my family? I wanted to help pay their karmic debt, to hope they find healing and peace together sooner, become who they were…before. Even though I can’t bear to look at a photo of them.”

  Her gaze turned to him briefly. “But your adopted parents were good to you. I’m glad. I was worried.”

  She nodded, as if settling something with herself, then began to unbutton the front of the dress clumsily with her right hand. She stopped, impatience in her gaze. Glanced toward Brendan. “I want this off.”

  The tone, so close to that of the imperious Mistress they knew she could be, startled both men. Brendan’s gaze shifted to Tyler. “With your permission…?”

  She looked at Tyler. “Will you trust me?”

  He studied her quiet expression, the weak sway of her undernourished body. “To a point,” he said at last. “My heart wants to trust you, but my fear for you…”

  Breathing a sigh through his nose, he gave Brendan a curt nod. “She can’t lift the left arm.”

  Brendan moved before her, unbuttoned each button carefully. She was completely naked under it except for the clavicle brace on her upper body and she lifted her chin as the dress fluttered back, showing that she was feeling the breeze on her skin, perhaps even enjoying it. Brendan eased her arm out of the sling so he could guide the dress off her entirely, as she’d demanded. He was as slow and patient as Tyler could wish, but Tyler saw the press of Marguerite’s lips, the tremor run through her. It made him wonder if he should have given her more pain medication this morning, since he’d been too shook up from last night to give her more than the bare minimum.

  “My deepest apologies, Mistress,” Brendan said. When he began to guide her arm back into the sling, she shook her head and moved forward, taking a step sideways to move around him. When she stumbled unsteadily, both men moved in, their hands brushing as they made sure she didn’t fall. But she proceeded forward into the water. Wearing only the necklace and the brace, she took one step deeper, then another.

  The men stayed right with her. Marguerite’s eyes remained on the horizon, but she felt them around her, their concern and caring a bulwark on either side. She was absently surprised that Brendan hadn’t backed away when Tyler had moved closer, but both were apparently determined to keep her safe. Her mind rolled the thought around, but was curiously blank, peaceful. The cool touch of the water on her skin soothed as she felt it slide over everything she was. Blood, muscle, sinew, scars, beliefs… Marie Peninski. Marguerite Perruquet. A trusting child, a scarred teenager and now a woman who had lived an interesting life, to say the least. As her mind moved over the memories Brendan had stirred, they brought her forward to more recent images.

  Chloe’s laughter, the children playing in her park. Tyler’s amber eyes, his easy touch. Brendan’s beauty. His devotion. The tea combination that Mr. Reynolds would bring in next. The embrace of the sky as she leaped out into the vastness of it. The impatiens she had decided to plant by the kitchen door in that bare shady spot that needed it, that was now only a mud puddle. A life without fear. A life filled with love and friendship. And suddenly, she found she wasn’t qui
te so tired anymore. He was gone. And she was free. Perhaps always could have been free, the moment she decided she was.

  She’d reached her waist now. Tyler’s palpable apprehension was like a warm blanket that wrapped around her, making her feel safe, loved. She turned and reached out her uninjured hand. When he took it, she let her knees go and dropped below the water’s surface, immersing herself, but keeping tight hold of his hand. Knowing that he would not have permitted it otherwise, but she didn’t reach out to him only because of that. As she let the silent Gulf waters embrace her, she remembered.

  Remembered her and David in that cocoon of warmth, the hold of their mother, perhaps the Mother, when all things were possible and perfect. Tyler’s strong fingers reminded her that he’d filled the aching emptiness the loss of her brother had left her with for twenty long years.

  His hand tightened on hers and she let him draw her toward him and up. She found the strength to push off the sand with her own feet. Surging out of the water into sunlight and the fire of his eyes, she felt it move in her, tears and happiness both.

  Tyler caught her as she pressed against him, soaking what remained dry of his shirt. The water lapped at the hips of his jeans. She turned her head, her eyes reaching out to Brendan, bringing him to them. The man took her taped hand, his fingers holding hers gently as she pressed her face into Tyler’s neck, breathed him in. Renewal. Rebirth. When there was love like this they were possible, no matter what the darkness.

  Quiet determination rose in her to plant those impatiens, nurse the blooms and bring them to life. Giving them the chance to be as vibrant as they could, in whatever amount of time the world would give them. The fear she’d always felt in Tyler’s arms was simply gone. Komal was right. Of all the things to fear in the world, the fear of being loved and loving back was the most absurd.

  “Master, please forgive me,” she murmured. “Forgive me for not being strong enough.”