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The waves sliding back from the shore whistled as
they passed through the pebbles bordering the beach. Picking her way through the
frothy water, Helena smiled slowly and raised her hand as she caught sight of
Neil striding toward her, canvas beach bag in hand. The waves unfurling around
her bare legs and the glare of the sun beating down on her dark curls seemed to
sap the last reserves of her energy. As if examining her reflection in a mirror,
she raised the tips of her fingers and brushed the dark shadows under her eyes.
Slowing her steps, she was suddenly aware of her tremendous fatigue.
The previous night she had slept fitfully, constantly starting into wakefulness
as she recalled the contents of Julie‘s e-mail. Neil too, had seemed to find
sleep slow in coming, and had held Helena tightly, cradling her head against his
chest and stroking her hair as she stirred restlessly. As the pink light of dawn
filtered through the window of their tiny hotel room, Helena arrived at the only
decision she felt possible. At Helena’s suggestion, Neil had dropped her off at
her apartment before seven o’clock. After ensuring that her unit was not under
surveillance, and leaving a note for Ben to check in on Helena, Neil had, with
some reluctance, driven off to the marina with Morris to work on the Odyssey.
Free to replay her theories regarding the mystery of Neil Streep/Peters, Helena
had directed her physical energies in a cleaning frenzy of unprecedented speed
and efficiency. Ben’s arrival provided both distraction from and assistance with
her endeavors. By early afternoon, they had managed to pack her bags, dispose of
unneeded articles, and render her apartment dust-free and headily redolent of
bleach and pine cleanser. Stripped of familiar clutter, the apartment had seemed
suddenly small and forlorn, and Helena had left the building with a sinking
feeling in the pit of her stomach. With a sudden jolt, she had realized that
when next she saw Ben, it would be to say good-bye.
Now, only steps away from Neil‘s extended hand, Helena felt her firm resolve
softening to jelly. Swallowing hard, she put her hand out to meet his, and
stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his mouth. The brush of his lips against hers
made the back of her neck tingle, and she had to remind herself of her resolve
to seek the truth about her lover, no matter what the outcome. As he reached out
to grasp her in his arms, Helena ducked her head from a second kiss, and put her
hand out to clutch the small purse that held her newly-booked ticket home.
Steadying herself. This was the only way, she rationalized, to keep from turning
back, losing her resolve and being swept up in whatever double-life the most
charming man she had ever met appeared to be leading. Whatever Neil hid or
revealed, and whatever lies he told, Helena would not allow herself to be hurt
again. She was going home. And yet, what if? The practical Helena, the one with
the ticket and the firm resolve, struggled to hold her ground. A hopeful,
trusting, Helena bit her lip and surrendered to her emotions. Gently caressing
Helena’s down-turned face, Neil lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. In his
glance, Helena saw her own confusion mirrored, and lowered her gaze. Then, as if
reading her change in mood, Neil turned away, but did not let go of her hand.
Instead, he spoke quietly.
“Follow me,” he said, before lapsing into silence. Without speaking, they made
their way back along the beach toward a grassy bluff cresting a steep trail. At
first, Helena watched their feet kicking up small clouds of sand and then noted,
with a sense of detachment, the silky beach sprouting pockets of brown grass. As
they started to climb the winding trail, Helena raised her head and looked
around her. She frowned for a moment as she struggled to place their
whereabouts, then shook her head in surprise. Glancing at Neil, she tried to
read his expression, but his face was turned away and his cheek was shadowed by
the fall of his unkempt hair. Within minutes, they stood at the top of the
bluff, overlooking the wide blue bay. The wind had carried a dusting of sand
over the sprouting grasses, pocketing the overlook with remnants of the beach
below. Off to the side, in the shelter of a curving rock wall overhung by vines,
a blanket was spread. Beside it, in a metal bucket beaded with condensation, a
bottle was chilling on a bed of ice. Weighting down the corners of the blanket
were plates and cutlery and two champagne flutes.
Helena’s pulse quickened as she recognized their picnic spot. A smile played
about her lips at the memory. She was about to exclaim at the coincidence when
she realized that Neil was already speaking.
“I thought I was taking a bit of a chance leaving all this unattended but after
catching you here sunbathing here alone and naked, I realized that it must be
one of the island’s more private places.” Still holding her hand, he pulled her
closer to him, willing her to meet his gaze with the searching intensity of his
bright eyes. The fine lines around his eyes deepened as he regarded her with
boyish eagerness to have pleased.
“What do you think? Do you like it? You do remember, don’t you?”
Helena’s expression was dreamy as she smiled into Neil’s eyes, and then pulled
gently away. She walked slowly away, toward the edge of the bluff, revelling in
the warmth of the late-summer sun as it bleached out the landscape below. The
wind caught the curling tendrils of hair playing about her face and tickled her
bronzed cheekbones. Below her, the waters of the bay moved ceaselessly against
the shore, setting the moored boats bobbing on the waves like a baby‘s bath
toys. Helena hugged herself in pleasure as she scanned the scene before her,
taking in the variegated blues of the water and the primary colours of the
buildings in the town below. Over there was the school, and a few blocks away,
her apartment. The market would be setting up tomorrow, down there by the docks.
While the hurricane had caused thousands of dollars in damage, it had not
altered the locations of landmarks or much changed the rhythms of local
behaviour. People would continue to visit the markets and gather at the local
watering holes and meet to play in the same fields as they had before. Before
the hurricane, and, she admitted to herself, before Helena. Ben’s apartments
might have a bit more color and style, her students a bit more curiosity about
the world, and what about Neil? Helena put a sudden halt to her train of
thought. What had she brought to Neil? Trouble, certainly, and confusion,
definitely. Tears of frustration sparkled in her eyes as she turned to face
Neil. Willing herself to act as if nothing were wrong, she extended her hand for
the brimming glass of champagne. As she met Neil’s gaze, she felt her heart
softening. Clinking his glass against hers, Neil proposed a toast.
“To our future.”
“Futures,” murmured Helena, her awareness of their divided fates pushing aside
all thoughts of a rosy, happily-ever-after. She regretted her editorial the
moment it had passed her lips. Neil, fortunately, appeared not to have heard
her, and busying himself with planting kisses in the vicinity of her face and
neck. Then, with a wink and a convincing promise to continue his amorous
explorations, he was kneeling on the picnic cloth, busying himself with
preparations for their lunch. Within minutes, foil-wrapped packages of fried
chicken and biscuits and containers of coleslaw and potato salad were spread out
on the plaid blanket. As they began eating, Helena was grateful for the easy
light-heartedness of their conversation. The lines bracketing his mouth deepened
and dimpled as he recalled their first meeting.
“You sure can misjudge people based on your first impressions. You must have
thought I was some kind of…” Neil’s words advanced and receded as he munched on
a chicken leg.
Watching his face animated in nostalgic recollection, Helena felt a yearning
that sent a physical pain through her body. Maybe, just maybe there was an
explanation for everything, and then…
Maybe she needed to listen to her heart and not her by-the-numbers mind. Or was
it the other way around? Frozen in mid-sentence, Neil glanced at her, head
tilted and eyes smiling. The bright light of the high afternoon sun showed the
lines etched on his face and made her wonder what other stories they had to
tell.
Her heart contracted as she continued to gaze at him, fork suspended half-way to
her mouth. Suddenly she was swelling with need for him. Reaching out toward
Neil, she pushed aside their plates of food and slid her body alongside his.
Taken aback by the abruptness of her movement, Neil laughed, and then reached
for her, rolling against her as he fumbled with the opening of her shorts.
Within moments, they were unclothed, damp skin cooled by the whispering breeze
as their legs entwined. As he thrust against her, Helena gripped him savagely,
her nails raking the sweat-slick flesh of his back and buttocks. Engulfed by her
desire, she urged him on, panting out her need for him. His mouth was at her
neck, his breath hot and quick against her skin, as she gave a tremendous cry
and bucked against him.
“I love you Helena” was his strangled cry as his eyes sought her gaze and his
mouth captured hers.
Cradled in the crook of his arm, Helena lay back on the blanket and gazed up at
the sky. The clouds overhead were heaped like cotton candy and shifted lazily
with each breath of the warm wind. Helena sighed suddenly, breaking the
companionable silence, and Neil reached down to stroke her cheek.
“Anything I can do?” he whispered gently, a teasing smile on his lips.
Helena shook her head quietly and turned her dark-fringed eyes toward his.
“I’m sorry,” she began simply, before her words were lost to the threat of
tears.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Helena,” Neil began firmly before Helena
interrupted him with a finger to his lips.
“I’m sorry for the way things turned out. For Karl and for my confusion and for
the mixed-up, on-the-run summer this ended up to be.”
Neil was smiling and Helena crinkled her brows quizzically as he interrupted
her.
“And I wouldn’t change a minute of it.”
Helena returned his smile with a teasing one of her own.
“You mean, you wouldn’t change our being kicked out of a five star hotel?
Visiting the police station? Fleeing the island like criminals?”
Neil reached down and smoothed her hair back from her forehead.
“I’m telling you the truth. No matter how mixed up our time together has been,
it’s been time together.”
Rising to a sitting position, Neil grasped Helena’s hands in his two and pulled
her toward him. Cupping her chin in the palm of his hand, he tilted her head so
it was inches from his face. His eyes seemed to darken as regarded her intently.
“I love you, Helena. I’ve loved you from the very beginning. I swear I will do
anything to make whatever is causing you unhappiness go away.”
Helena blinked back tears of self-pity as she fought the temptation to cast
aside all doubt and allow herself to be swept into his arms.
While she struggled with her emotions, Neill continued, “I want to be part of
your life, Helena, if you’ll have me.” His words trailed off as he blushed
furiously. “I’m sorry, I’m not being very direct.” He cleared his throat loudly,
and caught Helena’s hand, gripping it within his. Helena felt suddenly
light-headed as she realized the direction their conversation was taking. Before
she could interrupt, he was kneeling before her, words tumbling out.
“Helena Travis, will you take me, Neil Streep…” The falter in his voice was all
the opening she needed. Helena played the one card she still held.
Gently, she interrupted him.
“Don’t you mean Neil Peters?”
The look he shot her was full of hurt and confusion. For a moment, he was
silent. Then, raising his eyes to hers, he spoke quietly.
“Neil Peters is someone I used to be. Neil Streep is the person I’ve had to
become.”
Helena’s heart began to beat a little faster. Her fingers sought out a loose
thread on the hem of her shorts and yanked it taut. Try as she might to dismiss
his words as trite melodrama, part of her yearned to hear the explanation that
would follow. She waited as he cleared his throat, and made several faltering
attempts to continue. Taking her hand between his, he stroked it gently, running
his thumb over her knuckles.
“Helena.” Her name on his lips was a quiet caress.
Despite her desire to cry with frustration, she was torn between curiosity and
empathy toward the difficulty of the story‘s telling. Feeling a tremor shake his
hands, Helena returned the pressure of his fingers with a squeeze of her own.
Seeming to gather reassurance from the gesture, he spoke again.
“You might not believe me now, but I had planned to tell you everything. This
afternoon was all about new beginnings. Six months ago, I thought I was starting
over. I wasn’t. I was just doing the same old thing: running away. It wasn’t
until I met you that I was really re-born.”
Helena could no longer fight the urge to cut in. She was growing impatient for
the climax of the story, one in which a helpful English detective pointed out
“whodunnit” and then tied up any loose ends so that the hero and heroine were
able to engineer a happily-ever-after ending.
“Start over from what?” she asked with a boldness that belied her trepidation.
“Being Neil Peters,” he said simply. “And everything that being him meant.”
Helena sat very still, her arms wrapped tightly about her knees. Resisting the
temptation to subject Neil to a rigorous court-room type examination, she forced
herself to remain quiet and allow his story to unfold at its own pace.
“Once upon a time,” he began, in the incongruous manner of a child’s fairy tale,
“Neil Peters had a multi-million dollar business, an ex-model for a fiancée, and
the sweetest little boat: The Odyssey. The boat survived, but unfortunately, the
fiancée and the business, did not.” He laughed, tell-tale bitterness lingering
after the words had passed. For a moment, they sat in silence. Then, he resumed
speaking.
“It all started back in college. I had this dream of building low-cost,
high-quality housing for the disadvantaged. At first it was just me and my
friend, Gene. Then, after a year or so, Caroline, my then-fiancée, began getting
involved. We discussed the business, as we called it, endlessly: drafting floor
plans over pitchers of beer at the campus pub, filling out applications for
government loans, and coming up with proposal after proposal.”
He sighed sharply and cracked his knuckles, seemingly stalling for time before
continuing.
“It was perfect, or seemingly so. Day after day of bringing a dream to light in
the company of my best friend and Caroline was more than I could have asked for.
Gene might have been a bit of a ‘diamond in the rough,” but Caroline was the gem
itself: flawless and bright and hard. Funny to think how different I thought
they were, and how things turned out. Gene came from a huge, wealthy family with
mafia connections from which he was always trying to distance himself. Of
course, he wasn’t so anxious to distance himself that he wouldn’t tattoo the
Scarpelli insignia on his wrist, or for that matter, on mine, but he always
claimed to want to stand on his own two feet. ’Let me figure it out for myself,’
he’d tell Scarpelli Sr. every time his father would offer his ’assistance.’
Caroline came from old money, but was happy to play on the wrong side of the
tracks, as long as the cash kept flowing. ”
He smiled wryly and cast his eyes downward.
“’The wrong side of the tracks’ was me, according to her parents, for whom
middle class was no class at all. Toward the end, Caroline seemed to have
reverted to her parent’s way of thinking.“ Shaking his head, he glanced at
Helena and put out a hand to touch her cheek.
“She was nothing like you, nothing at all. Compared to you, she is nothing.”
Helena’s eyes remained downcast as she waited for him to continue his story.
Again, he cleared his throat.
“Our business took off like a flash. I was eager to get to work on the prototype
of our housing development, but I knew we’d have to make a name for ourselves
before we’d have the luxury of doing so. Within a month of our opening, we were
already developing a reputation. We put in a bid for a huge contract with the
City, and won.”
His eyes took on a nostalgic gleam as his eyes focused on the horizon.
Swallowing hard, he seemed to force out his words.
“How we celebrated, and then, how we worked! We were at the drawing table,
twelve, fourteen hours a day for weeks and weeks on end. We tried something
pretty radical in our design, straying away from the usual cement block
architecture that usually winds up in administration buildings and brought in
lots of wood and natural light. When we were done, our work made the local news,
and even warranted a write-up in Entrepreneur. I was riding high, thinking we
had it all, until I found out what I had was worse than nothing.”
“It started with Gene. Out of the blue he began spending more and more time with
his father’s friends. ‘Cigar and Scotch Nights’ he called their ‘meetings.’ He
started showing up late for work and telling me I worked ‘too hard.’ Maybe I
did. It certainly seemed to be an opinion he shared with Caroline. She kept
urging me to network, telling me to start spending time on the golf course and
at the country club, rather than hunched over a drafting board.”
“The work wasn’t exactly piling in as we’d envisioned, but it was steady, with
some residential and some small business projects. Unfortunately, neither
Caroline nor Gene were satisfied. ‘Small minded,’ was what they called my way of
thinking when I’d put what they considered too much time into some low-paying
renovation.”
Neil laughed wryly. “I called it ‘a good work ethic,’ but I convinced no one but
the customers and myself.”
“After a time, Caroline began complaining about our lifestyle, saying she wanted
the opportunity to move in the right circles and that I was holding us back by
refusing to make the ‘appropriate’ social connections. She was planning a huge
wedding, over five hundred people, most of whom I’d never even met, and the bill
was going to be in the hundreds of thousands. Her father was chipping in for
most of the expenses, but I wasn’t sure we’d even be able to afford the
honeymoon or new house she was planning for. It seemed like the more money we
brought in, the more she wanted. She even hired a interior designer to help
decorate our townhouse, which was ironic considering that she was trained in
design herself. Worst of all, it seemed like Gene was encouraging her,
constantly assuring her that if only I’d ‘play the game’ she’d be able to have
everything she’d ever dreamed of. All of a sudden, it was like the two people
whom I thought I knew the best, I knew not at all.”
Helena sought out, and gripped his hand in her two. He squeezed back,
momentarily raising his eyes to hers and managing a tight smile.
“I thought things couldn’t get any worse, but Í found out they could. Gene had
been hounding me for weeks to meet with his father about a ‘project’ he had in
mind, and I’d been sidestepping in the hopes that they‘d find someone else to do
their dirty work.”
Helena tensed, aware of what it was costing Neil to tell his story. She inclined
his head as he continued.
“Late one night, Gene came by the townhouse. He’d obviously had a lot to drink,
but was coherent enough to insist that I accompany him back to his father’s home
for a ’discussion.’ I refused, pleading the late hour, but Gene would not accept
’no’ for an answer. Suddenly, his mood turned ugly. He laughed at me, saying
that I was already in deeper than I knew. I asked him what he meant , and then
he told me. The contract with the City had been a ‘favour’ for the Scarpelli
family, a ticket to be cashed in later by certain council members mixed up in
some shady business dealings of their own. And now, the time had come for us to
pay for our ‘start’ in the business. We were to do some pro bono work on a
sleazy slum development one of the city council members was helping to finance.
The truth was, we weren’t really to do much more than put our name to the work
and turn a blind eye to the substandard labour that would be brought in to do
the actual building. I was stunned. I remember standing in the middle of the
room not knowing what to say, while Gene laughed and joked about the situation.
At that moment, Caroline came downstairs, wrapped up in my robe. She looked from
one of us to the other, and before she said a word, I knew that she knew, and
had known from the beginning. Smiling at Gene, she scolded him for being drunk,
then turned to me and said, ‘Just do it, Sweetheart. Please. ”
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I went ahead with their plan. I didn’t know what
else to do. I thought it would be just the one time, and then we’d be free to
build our reputation on our own merit. I even thought, very foolishly, that
Caroline and I could move away and find somewhere new where we could start
over.”
Neil paused for a moment, and Helena prompted him.
“But you couldn’t start over, could you?”
“No,” he whispered, withdrawing his hand from Helena’s and rubbing it over his
face. His hands hung between his knees and Helena had to strain to hear what
followed.
“They finished the project in just over a month. It made me sick knowing that
unskilled, unlicensed labour was finishing something that would bear our company
name. It would never have passed inspection if the Scarpelli family hadn’t
called in another ‘favor.’ I thought, now that the project was done, that
everything would be okay. I convinced Caroline that what we really needed was a
holiday and we left shortly after for a couple of weeks in Cancun. When we got
back the nightmare really began.”
In the pause that followed, Helena cast a quick glance at Neil’s face. His brow
was furrowed, his mouth a tight line. She waited, her heart thumping in her
chest, for him to continue. As if gathering courage to speak, he took a deep
breath, and cleared his throat.
“There had been an accident at the development that had just been finished.
Faulty wiring in one of the units started a fire. The first of the building’s
tenants was overcome by smoke and didn’t make it out alive. Fire inspectors
located the cause within a couple of days and then the questions began. They
couldn’t locate the architect who had designed the building. The so-called
electricians turned out not to exist. We were looking at jail time if the truth
came to light, but we were lucky, I guess. Mr. Scarpelli’s pockets were deep and
the truth was covered up.”
“I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn‘t close my eyes without seeing that poor
man burning to death in his own apartment. I asked Caroline and Gene to meet me.
I told them that I wanted to go to the police and come clean. I reminded Gene
how he had sworn never to follow the same path as his old man, and all the while
Caroline smiled and shook her head, telling me everything was going to be okay.
Finally, I got up and walked out, to drive for hours without really knowing
where I was going.”
“When I got home, Caroline was gone. A note on the table told me she was going
to stay ‘with friends’ until I had ‘straightened myself out.’”
The next day, I woke up to find my leased car being towed away. The guy at the
car lot apologized, and said there had been some questions about my credit. At
the bank, they told me my account was in overdraft, and there was ‘nothing they
could do’ about the balance. This is what the computer shows, they kept saying.
When I arrived home, there was an eviction notice tacked to the front door of
our townhouse. Beside it, tucked into the doorframe was Mr. Scarpelli’s business
card.”
“I took a taxi to the Scarpelli residence. I was shaking, I was so angry. Mr.
Scarpelli listened to my ranting for a few minutes and then held up his hand. I
waited for a minute, until he was ready, and then he told me the rules of his
game. I would leave the city that night, with one thousand dollars of his money
in my pocket. I would not attempt to contact Gene or Caroline and I would not go
to any law enforcement agency. If I followed his rules, I would be allowed to
live, and no harm, monetary or physical, would come to the members of my family.
Then, Mr. Scarpelli picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and began naming
them all, reading off their addresses and phone numbers, and giving me a rather
chilling scenario of what he personally would do to my mother and sister if I
did not go along with his plan. “
Neil took a long, shuddering sigh.
“So here I am. Business empire in the hands of Scarpelli Inc., fiancée in the
arms of Gene Scarpelli, Jr., but at my disposal, a boat ready to set sail and
maybe even a new long-term crew member?”
His voice took an upward inflection, but his face remained sombre as he reached
for Helena.
Against her ear, his heart beat a muffled tattoo. Her thoughts were churning.
Disbelief had nearly vanished. She felt sick at the thought of all that had come
to pass. Her doubts and mistrust seemed to mock the pain of his experience.
As if reading her mind, Neil said quietly, “I have the newspaper articles, all
of them: the ones about the company, about the construction project, and
especially those about the fire. I wanted to tell you everything from the very
beginning but I was afraid, so afraid of the reach of the Scarpelli family.
Please, believe me.”
Holding her gently about the shoulders, Neil gazed into Helena’s eyes.
Faltering, she spoke,
“I do believe you now, but for the last two months I haven’t known what to
believe. You seemed to live a very carefree, financially secure lifestyle,
flashing wads of money and working only sporadically. So I thought you had
money, I just didn’t know the source. Then, I find out you had your own
business, a very profitable one.”
Helena struggled to sort out her thoughts.
“Now, you tell me you have nothing…”
Neil’s breath seemed to catch and he regarded her intently.
“I do believe your story but I’ve been uncertain for so long, so confused and so
overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, not just with Karl, but with you as
well. I just don’t think I can stay here any longer. I need time to breathe and
time to think. I’m ready to go home.” Trembling, she put her hand in her purse
and withdrew her airline ticket, placing it on the blanket between them.
All of a sudden, his words came in a rush.
“You say I have nothing now. Is that what this is all about? Money?”
Shocked by the depth of his misunderstanding, Helena could not find the words to
correct him. She stared in silent shock as he continued, hurt written plainly
over his features.
“Helena, I thought I had everything because I had you. If my lack of business
ownership means I’m not enough for you, then I guess I really do have ‘nothing.’
I’m sorry I don’t have more to offer.”
Helena’s hand found his and touched it briefly before he pulled it gently away
and rose to standing. Turning his back to her, he began hurriedly packing up the
remains of their lunch and stuffing it in the oversized beach bag. Tears filled
her eyes, and she shook her head as if to banish his hurt. Over pounding heart,
she tried to compose her thoughts into the words that would reassure him of her
love.
Her throat was dry as she whispered his name. She reached out to him, but his
back was turned. He stood for a moment, shaking shoulders betraying his own
grief, and then he spoke.
“Maybe it’s best if I do just leave you alone. I don’t want to interfere with
your thinking time. Please let me know if you want to see me again before you go
back home.”
He hoisted the bag to his shoulder, half turned, then ducked his head and strode
quickly away, down the winding path and across the spill of sand until he was no
more than a speck against the purpling evening sky.
Chapter 16.
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