Paradise Found (8 page)

“Please, don’t speak of love,” she said, avoiding the hopeful sparkle in his eyes.

“Why not? I love you.”

She drew a deep breath and turned away. “Please, Daemon, don’t. Don’t. You don’t have to proclaim your love just because we had sex.”

He reached out and touched her arm. The tingle in his touch was disconcerting. “I’d love you even if we never had sex. You mean more to me than good lay. You should know that by now.”

She didn’t want to know. “Just let it go. Don’t complicate things by speaking of love. Please.”

Hadn’t she learned enough of love and heartache in her life? From her first teenage crush to her first lover and to the Ryan O’Neil lookalike in college with whom she thought she’d create her own
Love Story,
love never lasted. Love even burned into the ashes of the Twin Towers. Love withered away and died. The love she shared with Daemon would die as well. Once he learned of her secrets, she knew the sparkle in his eyes would dim and the chemistry that held them together would sour.

She couldn’t deny her secrets and live a lie. She had returned home to the Seychelles to reconcile with her past as well as to plan her future. Whether or not that future included Daemon Wells would be left for him to decide. If true unconditional love existed between them, this would be the ultimate test. Victoria knew she would have to live with the outcome.

Chapter 9

Victoria had been back in the Seychelles for over two months and had yet to resolve several issues. Though she selected the plat of land on to which to build her home, she had yet to begin the process of applying for an application to build. Her acquisition of island land had come to a standstill and development plans for that land were not made as well. Instead, she made excuses. Just as she had made excuses for not confronting an important part of her past, one of her main reasons for returning home to the Islands.

Swallowing hard, she opened the door and slipped out of the fabric seat of her Volvo. Standing, she surveyed the dirt path by which she parked. She shielded the sun from her eyes with her hand, looking for local landmarks that would help with finding her destination. The administrator at the government office had been reluctant to grant her request and only some fast-talking and name-dropping revealed the pertinent information. As she gazed up the path at a far row of buildings she wondered if the information was correct. Coming this far, she’d soon find out.

She walked up the path, trying to smooth the wrinkles from her cotton sundress. The first structure she encountered was a church. Constructed of island granite and concrete, it was small by European standards. Except for the glittering arched stained glass windows, it was simpler as well. She walked up the few concrete steps and entered the sanctuary, dipping her hand in holy water and making a sign of the cross and said a silent prayer for courage with the hope that she was doing the right thing. What she was about to do would, after all, impact others as much as herself.

After leaving the church, she proceeded up the path toward homes nestled amidst lacy ferns and towering palms. A breadfruit tree, heaving with green fruit, shaded one yard and the two-story block and timber frame home behind it revealed, with a Kreol sign, her destination.

She drew a deep breath, trying to quell the nerves that rattled her. As the reality of where she was and what she was about to do sunk in, she fought the urge to forget the whole idea and flee.

Hesitating, she approached the wide front porch of the home. Children, aged five to fifteen, sat at tables reading, writing and computing. All were quietly immersed in their studies. Only a couple looked up at her. She gazed lovingly into their caramel faces for some recognition.

A woman greeted her from the doorway. Her round dark face wore a cheery smile and her manner radiated a motherly warmth.

“I’m Jovanna Payette,” the woman introduced. “I was expecting you. Come, join me in the kitchen for some tea.” The woman led her into the wide entrance hall of the home.

Shiny wood floors were sprinkled with woven area rugs. Fans rotated overhead. Furnishings were of simple wood mingled with some upholstered pieces. The kitchen had plain painted wood cabinets and ample laminate counters. Charming little ground doves sat pecking at crumbs near an open window. Victoria was directed to a caned chair at a wood table.

As Jovanna prepared tea at the stove, she glanced over at Victoria. Victoria knew she was being scrutinized for character and motivation.

“You keep a very clean and organized home,” Victoria commented. The scent of lemon wax still lingered in the humid air.

“I try. With ten children it isn’t easy but I manage.” Jovanna brought two steaming mugs of island grown vanilla tea to the table.

Handing a mug to Victoria, she sat across from her.

“I find it commendable that you would come here. So much time has lapsed. Most women would have put the memory aside and continued on with life,” Jovanna said, meeting her gaze.

“I … I tried but some things one cannot forget.” She took the mug, tea sloshing over the rim.

“Fifteen years have passed. I don’t know what you expect or hope to achieve?”

“I just want to know what happened to him. As I’ve grown older and experienced life, I’ve felt the void, the part of myself I left behind. In coming home to the Islands, the urge to see him has grown so strong I can’t hold it back much longer.” She took a sip of tea, wishing it were something stronger to calm her nerves.

“It is for yourself you’ve come here, not so much for the boy, yes?”

Victoria shook her head. “It’s not out of guilt, if that’s what you think.”

“You must understand. From the time of the boy’s birth, he has lived in orphanages. This life is all he has ever known. Now, you return from abroad, after years of abandonment, and want to re-enter his life. You are no more than a stranger.”

“Whose blood flows in his veins.”

“A mother is more than blood, Miss Montcherry. A mother sacrifices, she does not run away.”

The words ripped into her, the truth difficult to confront. “I was too young. I am older and wiser now.”

“Older, yes. Wiser? I am not so sure.” Jovanna set down her mug and clasped her hands on the table-top. “So, what is it you want? To see the boy and be on your way? To become a part of his life? What?”

“I was hoping to become a part of his life, to perhaps be the mother he deserves. That is, if he wants me.”

Jovanna’s thick lips formed a thin line. “This boy is fifteen years old. He is not an infant to raise and mold into any fashion you see fit. To him, you are a stranger. I’m not saying bonding isn’t possible, but it will be difficult at this stage in life.”

Victoria swallowed hard. Just sitting at a kitchen table with this woman made her wonder if she had made the right decision on coming. Memories of the past flooded into her mind. Awash were images of her at eighteen, pregnant and alone with a near stranger’s child. She had an island fling with the son of a wealthy tourist, a guest at the resort where her mother worked. She had naively mistaken raging hormones for love. Love that she thought would transport her off the island and into a country club lifestyle in the United States. She thought the boy was her escape. Instead, he left with his family with little concern for her well-being. He never wrote nor called. Vanished as he had come, oceans and worlds apart.

Telling her mother had been almost as difficult as the realization that the boy was out of her life forever. Though disappointed, her mother accepted the circumstances. Single motherhood was more common than not on the Islands. Victoria, though, did not want to become a mother. She hid her pregnancy from friends and her mother kept the secret as well. When the baby arrived little less than a month early, he weighed only four pounds. After, Victoria looked so normal no one would have suspected a pregnancy.

Immediately after birth, the baby was handed over to the National Council for Children, who placed him in an orphanage. On the Islands, the government-supported orphanages were operated like private homes with a “house mother” and “siblings.” Jovanna was that “mother.” Victoria never saw the baby.

After physically recovering, she left the Seychelles and memories of the baby boy in pursuit of a college education. The scholarship she had secured took her to the United States and, later, around the world. She had found her escape, having taken the circuitous route.

She blinked back tears of the memory. The quest for education and freedom from the limits of an island had taken precedence over motherhood and a baby. Yes, she had been young and selfish. She knew she couldn’t go back in time to relive one’s life. Each life is comprised of many paths with forks in the road and she chose a separate path from that of her son.
Her son.
Acknowledging the fact that she had a son caused shivers to radiate up and down her spine. She had to rub her arms for warmth.

Jovanna was staring at her with a mix of sympathy and angst. Victoria was certain the woman viewed her with dismay at having thrown away a baby like yesterday’s trash.

Trash you forget. The memory of giving birth lives within forever.

“Where is my son? Is he on the porch with the other children?” Victoria asked, the sadness of not even knowing what the boy looked like making her tingle more.

“Your son is away competing in a football tournament. I made sure to set our appointment when he was gone so we could chat in private.” Jovanna finished her tea.

“Tell me about him.” Victoria pleaded with her eyes.

Jovanna rose and went over to a bookcase where she retrieved a framed photograph. In silence she handed the picture to Victoria. Victoria stared at the full-length photograph of a boy, soon to be a man. He was tall and thin yet muscular as revealed in his soccer uniform of shorts and polo shirt. The yellow shirt accented the blonde in his sandy hair and the olive in his skin. His eyes startled her. They were as deep and dark as her own, rimmed with the same long, dark lashes. His face was angular like a male model’s and he was equally as handsome. From his pose with the ball, he appeared self-confident and assured. He looked as Anglo and white as his father.

Victoria swiped at tears drizzling down her cheeks. The boy was her son. Her son! It just didn’t seem possible. He wasn’t a baby but a grown man. Years had passed and he had been raised well without her. From the dimpled smile on his face he looked content and happy.

“Was he ever told anything about me?” Victoria mumbled, setting the frame facedown on the table.

“As with most of the children, we told him his parents were dead and that he was an orphan.”

Victoria choked and coughed. “He thinks I’m dead?”

Jovanna nodded. “Mothers never return.”

“Yet I have.” She rose from her seat so fast her chair wobbled on the wood floor. “Maybe this was a mistake. I should never have come here.”

The heat and humidity of the room was penetrating and with her chills, she broke out in a cold sweat. If she didn’t get some fresh air from the stifling claustrophobia of being indoors she would be sick. Covering her mouth, just in case, she rushed out of the house,
out the front door, bolted down the steps and into the yard. Drawing a deep breath of floral-scented air, she dropped to the grass in tears.

He thinks I’m dead! My son thinks I’m dead!
At that moment she wished she were. Throughout most of her life, everyone thought she was so together. She was the single woman who had everything: a great job, money, a fancy car, an apartment at the right address, and always a handsome successful man on her arm. It was all a lie. She had been living a lie. She had nothing. Without the son she gave away she had nothing!

She felt the hand on her shoulder and looked up. Jovanna looked down at her with a kindly smile. “Miss Montcherry, we cannot relive the past but we can create a future.”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps if you meet your son in person it will help to determine the next step.”

“Meet him? Is that a good idea?”

“He doesn’t need to know who you are yet. I suggest taking things slowly and seeing where they lead. Only you can determine if and when you wish for him to know. After spending some time with him, you can decide whether his future is best being left alone or with you.” Jovanna smiled, reaching out her hand.

Victoria grasped her broad hand and stood. She embraced the woman. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“My child, take things one step at a time. One step at a time.”

Chapter 10

“Son, I warned you not to get involved with that Montcherry woman,” Alexander Well’s voice resonated through the headset of the telephone like an unwelcome intruder.

Daemon had awakened to a ringing telephone and his father’s angst. He glanced over at his bedside clock, its digital numbers the only light in the dark room.

“Do you realize what time it is here?” Daemon asked.

“Aren’t you aware of the time difference?”

“I don’t give a damn about the time. I do wonder what’s gotten into your head or, better yet, your pants.” The bite in his voice crackled over the line.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been screwing around with that woman and I want it stopped.”

“What did you do, hire someone to spy on me? I’m too old to be told how to live my life.”

“When it interferes with the future of Eden Resorts it’s my business.”

Daemon chuckled. “Your business? Eden Resorts became your business when you married my mother. Her father founded the chain. You’re only a beneficiary through
marriage.”

“If not for me, Eden wouldn’t be the world’s leader in luxury resorts. It would have remained a string of mom and pop motels in the States. I grew this business. I created an empire, an empire that you’re set to inherit. That is, if you’re deserving.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“If you live a life according to your bloodline and not marry any mixed blood natives.”

“Like Victoria Montcherry?” Daemon scooted up against the headboard.

“You marry that woman and you’re disinherited.” Alexander’s tone was loud and direct.

“Disinherited?” Daemon shook his head. “As if I’d really care if you disinherited me? Lest you forget, I have a generous trust fund Mother left me that you cannot touch. In addition, I have fifty-percent interest in Eden Resorts whether you like it or not. I don’t need your fifty-percent nor do I care.”

“Don’t be so flip with me, boy.”

“You may be my father, but you cannot run my life. I really don’t care what you do with your fifty-percent share. I have my own career as president of a thriving helicopter service and as a member of the Seychelles government. I have enough money and investments to live comfortably at my island home. If I desire to share that home with Victoria and a family of our own, that’s my business.”

“You’d give up controlling interest in Eden for a native woman?” His father choked out the words.

“Yes, I would. Unlike you, I want to share my life with a wife and family. I plan to breakfast with my children in the morning and hold my wife each night. I want to be there when my sons win a football tournament and my daughters have a first date. I don’t want to be jetting off to some foreign country living out of a suitcase, a cell phone in my ear, my eyes focused on a laptop and my nose in a briefcase. I don’t want to grow old, angry, and alone except for a business empire.”

“I’m not alone!”

Was his father finally feeling guilty? Guilty for being the absentee husband and father? A man who valued his business contacts more than his personal ones? A man who lived for himself to the exclusion of all others?

“I hope you aren’t alone. Loneliness is a sad state. I should know. My children will not suffer the same fate.”

“Listen up! I did the best I could. I couldn’t be in two places at one time. If I worked at home, Eden wouldn’t be what it is today. I was out securing your future and the future of your children.”

Daemon swallowed hard. Memories of his childhood flooded back. Memories of friends who had fathers who participated in their lives.

He remembered how he had been goalie in the state championship soccer game. The scores were even and the opposing team had the ball. Their star player was positioned to make the winning goal. Daemon reached out with all his power and blocked the ball just as the buzzer ended the tournament. Crowds in the stands waved and cheered at the victory. His teammates lifted him on their shoulders and paraded him around the field like a hero. It had been the happiest day in Daemon’s life, yet his father wasn’t there to witness it. As always, Alexander was away on business. From that moment on, Daemon acted as if he didn’t have a father and had rebelled accordingly. He realized why he had taken to Justin. The boy reminded him of his past.

“I needed a father, not an empire,” Daemon said under clenched teeth.

Alexander audibly sighed.

“We can’t go back in time. We can only deal with the here and now,” Daemon said. He had learned long ago not to live with regrets.

“The here and now is your growing up and taking responsibility for Eden Resorts and leaving that Montcherry woman alone.”

The phone line went dead.