Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 (35 page)

Like the rapidly turning pages of a novel caught in the wind, Jade was reading the plot fast and furiously. Colt had married Triesta’s daughter! Lorena Vordane had wasted no time in preying on Colt’s vulnerable condition due to his physical injury and his mental grief. She had snared him like the steel jaws of a bear trap, quickly becoming pregnant, trapping him with responsibility.

Jade and Triesta locked eyes, both angry, both icy with defiance.

“How did you find me?” Triesta demanded when the maid reluctantly retreated and had moved out of hearing range.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” Jade retorted hotly. “I was looking for Colt. I saw him this weekend, at a party, and he pretended not to know me. I wanted to find out why, and now I know—he was ashamed!”

“Go away!” Triesta hissed menacingly. “You get out of here, and don’t you come back. You dare come around here again trying to make trouble and you’ll be sorry.”

Jade lifted her chin, blinked back tears of fury. God, she’d expected anything but this!

“I didn’t come to make trouble,” she frostily informed her. “I came to talk to Colt, to ask some questions, but now I don’t have to, because I’ve got the answers.” She took a step backward, preparing to leave.

“You sure do,” Triesta snapped, lips working furiously as her eyes squinted to menacing slits. “Now I’m telling you to get out of here, and I mean it. Keep your mouth shut, and no one will be hurt. Bryan Stevens is a fine man, and Colt is happy, so you’ve got no reason to try to come nosing around here.”

Jade turned away. Now she knew why Colt had pretended not to know her. It was his way of letting her know that that was the only way it could be. No matter that she was really alive. No matter that they once had loved each other, had been man and wife. Each had a new life now, a new future, and the only way to accept what fate had dealt them was to pretend they’d never known each other at all. Perhaps, she decided with a sinking feeling of resolution, it was best that way.

“Mother, what’s going on?”

Jade had reached the bottom step, but at the sound of the other voice, she whirled about to see the pale, startled face of Lorena Vordane staring down at her. “Oh, God, it’s her…” she whispered. “Oh, no…no, it can’t be. She’s dead—”

Jade watched, astonished, as Triesta Vordane grabbed her daughter by the throat and violently pushed her back into the house. Before the door slammed, Jade heard her cry, “Keep your mouth shut! Just keep your mouth shut, you hear me—”

Several moments passed as Jade stared in muted wonder at the closed door. Dimly, she was aware that a woman next door had heard the commotion, walked onto her front porch, and pretended to be watering her geraniums. Slowly, woodenly, Jade finally turned, stumbled on down the sidewalk to where she’d left her bicycle. So, she dazedly mused, Lorena had not known she was alive. Her mother hadn’t told her. Neither had Colt.

But why Lorena?

Why had Colt married her? He hadn’t been attracted to her in the least, had listened with quiet amusement as Jade recounted the girl’s confession of running away to Europe with a young man, brokenhearted to have been forced to return home with her mother.

Why, then, would he have turned to Lorena Vordane in his grief? What was also astounding was how he could ever have consented to live in the house with Triesta Vordane when he had found her as unpleasant as Jade had.

Jade mounted her bicycle, started to ride away, then noticed that the curious neighbor had slowly made her way down her steps, pretending to pull stray weeds as she moved up the sidewalk, no doubt just trying to get closer.

“Hello,” Jade called, managing to sound cheery and bright despite the misery within. “Your yard is lovely.”

The woman, elderly, probably in her late sixties or go, looked at her suspiciously as she walked to her gate. “Thank you,” she responded slowly, then bluntly asked, “What was Triesta screaming about this time?”

Jade shrugged, not about to appear offended by her nosiness, for she was going to use it to her advantage. “I don’t know. I was just asking directions. I’m looking for…“ She paused, groping for a name the old woman wouldn’t recognize, then cried, “Miss Lita Tulane. Do you know the family?”

The woman shook her head. “’Tweren’t nothing for Triesta to yell at you about. Guess she don’t get much sleep with the new baby and all.” She turned to go back, disappointed there was nothing more spectacular to hear about.

“Does she always get upset so easily?” Jade innocently called.

The old woman turned, nodded knowingly. “Oh, yes. She’s a mean one. Nobody likes her. She hasn’t spoke to me in ten years, but I don’t care. I’m just happy for that daughter of hers. Lorena always was a sweet thing, and I’m glad she finally got herself a decent husband. Seems like a nice man. I see him out in the yard once in a while, and he always smiles and waves. It’d be best for him and her both, though, if he’d get ’em a place of their own. Livin’ with Triesta Vordane has got to be miserable.” With a disgusted shake of her head, she padded up the steps and disappeared inside her house.

Jade thoughtfully registered the information. Why? Oh, dammit, why a
lot
of things? she silently cried, feeling sick to her stomach.

Furiously, she began to pedal away, wanting to get as far from the house as possible.

What difference did it make who he’d married, she asked herself, or how it had come about? The point was—he belonged to someone else, and so did she, and he had a baby, and she had a husband who adored her, and if Colt could look her straight in the eye and pretend not to know her, then fine. She could live with that.

Or could she? her heart coolly taunted.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Despite her resolve that life had to go on, Jade continued to be plagued by unanswered questions. Yet with each passing day it became easier to look forward, not back, and each time thoughts of Colt came to mind, it became easier and easier to push them aside. After all, she had a life—a good life—and she was also moving full steam ahead with the studio and the dancing she’d loved as long as she could remember.

Bryan still found it difficult to hide his deep resentment over the studio opening. He felt Jade was neglecting their social life, and in some ways, their marriage. “You’re never home when I get here,” he complained the third night she was late. “And you never want to have people over, to entertain. When’s the last time you called on anyone for tea, or had anyone call on you?”

She could not remember, didn’t care, and said so, much to Bryan’s distress.

He delivered his discourse with barely concealed anger. “I know you love to dance, darling. I know you want to open a studio to teach. But you also have to remember that you’re a married woman now, and you’ve got obligations, not only to me and our marriage but to our friends and society in general. I’m told you leave here every morning right after I do, and you’re gone all day—supposedly at that infernal studio.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s got to stop. You’ve got to put yourself on a schedule and make time for other things, Jade. You’re really making me unhappy.”

“I don’t mean to,” she assured him with all honesty, “but you have to understand I’m my own person, Bryan, and there are other things important to me besides teas and parties. I don’t think you’re being fair by saying I’m neglecting you or our marriage. I may be a bit late for dinner, but that’s not going to last much longer—just until the recital. We’ve got our evenings together after dinner, but you seem to waste the time nagging at me,” she added caustically.

Bryan continued to be annoyed, but Jade was not about to have this particular dream thwarted. He’d see, she told him wearily each time he complained; it would all work out once she opened the studio and did maintain a schedule.

At last, the studio was ready. The mirrors were in place, as were the polished barres. The floors were in prime condition. Dressing rooms were painted and papered, with privacy drapes. Tall, gleaming windows were cleaned to afford as much sunlight as possible. The walls were painted a light peach, trimmed in pale green. Jade’s office was an alcove hidden behind a privacy screen and many potted plants. After addressing nearly fifty invitations herself, Jade handed the very first she’d done to Bryan, with a personal plea to attend. “It’s to be a tea dance,” she explained. “At two in the afternoon Wednesday. Refreshments will be served, and I’ve got a violinist to play for me to dance. I’m showing off the studio as well as the dances I plan to teach, but mostly I’ll be dancing ballet,” she stated proudly. “You’ve never seen me perform, Bryan, and I’d like you to be there.”

As much as Bryan loved Jade, her dancing was a part of her life he could not share, a part he knew he could never possess. Call it jealousy, pride, resentment, whatever, he’d have no part of being a spectator to the one thorn in his rose of happiness.

“I’ve got a business meeting,” he declined curtly, waspishly.

Jade was hurt but didn’t say anything. It was a lie, she knew, but so be it. Sooner or later he’d realize that dancing and her studio held no threat, that it was just an extension of her that she needed in order to have an identity of her own.

On the morning of the tea dance, Jade did not go down to have breakfast with Bryan. She’d pretended to be asleep when he’d awakened. She was afraid she might break down and ask him one more time to attend, and that would be begging—something she wasn’t prone to do. She’d invited him. He’d declined. No need in chewing an old bone.

She had designed her own costume of pink satin and lace, with a knee-length tutu skirt. She also adorned herself with jewels, as was the fashion of ballerinas. She swept her long red hair back from her face in a sleek chignon, then settled a wreath of tiny silk rosettes and pressed lace and ribbons as a kind of crown. The tights she’d ordered from Paris had finally arrived, as well as the precious points shoes with their wide span of satin ribbons which she expertly wrapped about her ankles to mid-calf.

She was going to give a recital from two of her favorite ballets—the role of the White Cat from
The Sleeping Beauty
and then the saucy
L’Ombre
, which featured many tricky toeholds and intricate moves that would truly illustrate the beauty of ballet. Later, she would change from pointes to simple slippers in order to illustrate the waltz.

Lita was there, of course, to help with serving and greeting guests. Again and again she begged Jade to teach her basic steps and was assured she could become a student, despite her age and lack of experience.

Almost everyone invited had accepted, and a half hour before the appointed time, Jade was delighted to see the studio was crowded with guests. Excitedly she realized that if even half of those attending signed up their children, or themselves, for various classes, she’d have to find assistants to help—or Bryan would have legitimate cause to complain of neglect.

Jade and Lita were standing behind the privacy screen of her office, peering out at the crowd, when Lita suddenly gasped, “Oh, heavens, why did you invite her?”

Following Lita’s wide-eyed gaze, Jade saw Mrs. Geneva Stokes. “I seem to run into her everywhere I go,” she said with a shrug. “It’d be a social slap not to include her.”

“She’s a vicious gossip.”

Jade agreed. “Well, watch what you say, then. That’s the only way to be around her kind.”

“Look, more flowers!” Lita squealed.

Jade saw a delivery boy coming through the door, and he seemed weighted down with the largest arrangement of yellow roses she’d ever seen.

“I didn’t order roses,” she murmured incredulously, lips curving in a warm, grateful smile, “but obviously Mr. Stevens did.”

She made her way across the crowded room, not liking to show off her costume, but anticipation over reading Bryan’s card was too tempting. She showed the delivery boy where to place the flowers, right next to the stage, then tore open the envelope. Beside her, Lita exulted, “Oh, they’re gorgeous, just gorgeous. Maybe this means he’ll come after all.”

Jade blinked back happy tears and whispered, “Maybe so.” But then she was staring, furious at the scrawled message on the card. It could not be so!

My dear Mrs. Stevens…
Her disbelieving eyes scanned the note.
Please accept this floral offering as an advance apology for attending your tea dance uninvited. I heard about it and could not stay away. Thank you in advance for your understanding and forgiveness. Sincerely, John Travis Coltrane.

Somewhere, far, far away it seemed to Jade, a violin began to play the sweet, lilting music of Tchaikovsky.

Lita was looking over her shoulder at the card. “Who’s that? Who’s John Travis Coltrane? I don’t think I know him…” Suddenly she snapped her fingers. “Oh, yes, I do!” She was so eager to remember she did not notice the way Jade’s fingers began to shake so badly that the card fluttered to the floor.

“He married Mrs. Triesta Vordane’s homely daughter, Lorena, while they were on a holiday in Europe,” Lita went on in a rush. “I remember how surprised everyone was when they got back and said Lorena was married, especially to such a handsome man. I mean, she isn’t very pretty, and Mrs. Vordane is such an unpleasant sort. Everyone was sure Lorena was doomed to spinsterhood.” She paused to giggle, bent to pick up the note after realizing Jade had dropped it, then pondered, “I wonder why he wanted to come here?”

Jade ignored her as she glanced about anxiously, every nerve in her body taut. Dear God, why would he do such a thing? Why did he want to torment her so? Was it to get even for her having gone to his house? Well, she’d just have to find him, tell him she was sorry, that she’d play according to his rules, pretend she didn’t know him, had never known him, if only he’d go away and leave her alone. This kind of thing she just couldn’t tolerate.