(See first part for disclaimer, notes, spoilers, etc.)

Chapter 9: "Solstice"

The warm breeze brushed against Olivia's foot, ruffling the sheet covering her body. She turned on her side, her arm dangling across her face to protect her eyes from the sun. With a tired sigh, she reluctantly opened her eyes slightly.

Mid-morning sunshine filled the large bedroom, glowing against the white washed walls. The sheer curtains billowed inward from the breeze, bringing with it the salty scent of the sea. She pushed herself up, resting on her elbows in a half sitting position. Blinking sleepily, she took a deep breath and gazed around the master bedroom.

The bungalow was part of the resort, rented out to the high value patrons who wanted to both be catered to and have their privacy respected. The dozen or so of these thatched roof homes dotted the private coastline, sitting no closer than a mile to the next one. A wide veranda wrapped around the home, filled with cushioned lounge chairs that faced the spectacular beach scene on the north side. On the south side, a view of the rolling mountains with fleshy green and tropical vegetation could hold a person's interest for hours.

The interior was just as breathtaking. High vaulted ceilings stirred the air flowing in from the tall windows cut into the walls. Warm wooden shutters helped to block out the sun when it was at its hottest and the cool tile underfoot was a blessing. Tasteful watercolors depicting island life hung on the walls, deep splashes of yellows, greens, and blues streaking across the thick paper.

They were all so taken with their accommodations that they had barely left it. Neither adult had an issue forgoing any of the tourist attractions on the island to instead mosey back and forth between the spacious bungalow and the beach that was just a step off the back porch.

Olivia sat up slowly, her hair blowing in flyaway wisps around her face. A smile of contentment graced her lips, pulling the corners up to the heavens. The gentle breeze carried the sound of Caitlin's delighted shrieks up from the beach. It rang in her ears as she stood, stretching her arms high over her head as she walked over to the open doorway.

The soft gray sand glittered in the sunlight as baby waves of clear aquamarine and white foam rolled up the beach. Sand kicked up around the little girl's feet as she dashed around, dancing away from her father as he playfully lunged for her. She smiled as Gregory chased Caitlin to the water, returning her splashes with some of his own.

She ran a brush through her hair, the bristles smoothing out the tangles. Her swimsuit conveniently hung from the bed poster and it took only a moment to slip it on. She padded barefoot onto the porch, loosely tying a sarong around her waist.

The sun overhead had baked the sand, the resulting sensation no hotter than a warm bath. She inhaled deeply, taking in the intermingling scent of the fresh sea and the tempting lure of the flowers that grew alongside the house.

Gregory and Caitlin were wading in the shallow water, the little girl alternately stopping and starting as she bent to pick up shells that piqued her interest. The Caribbean sun had tanned his back and chest, flesh that rarely rested in its rays when he was home.

Olivia stood silently at the edge of the ocean, the water licking at her toes as she watched them. How different things were now. How different, yet familiar at the same time. The way he smiled at her echoed the early days of their relationship, when everything was new and exciting. When each new day was a promise of tomorrow, a gift to be cherished.

The wind stirred the pale blue material of the sarong against her leg as she sank into the warm sand. She drew her knees to her chest, folding her arms on top. Squinting into the distance, she watched the two figures wading in the shallow water. She'd be ready for them when they noticed her.


I take a sheet of thin paper out of the stationery box. It's pale pink, paler than the embarrassment of a schoolgirl. And thin, so thin that I fear handling it too much will tear it between my fingers.

It's the eternal metaphor of my life: ruining things that I've been given.

My jaw clenches as I set the thin sheet on the ink blotter, my pen poised for action. The ink would spew like venom, a poison that strikes at the core of their souls. How much it would rip her heart out, tearing through the thick muscle to render her useless…immobile…dead.

The fountain pen scratches across the paper, the nib pressed down. Dark red ink, the color of blood, flowed across the blush pink the way a river flowed between its banks. Fierce, determined, and strong.

It's all becoming clearer as each word is laid down on page. The words stand testament to everything, the way it all should be were it not for her and her brat. He could leave her, that was as clear as crystal. But he couldn't leave his child.

My teeth grind together as I correct myself. Children.

I push back from the desk, barely stifling my cry of anguish. When would he see? When? Couldn't he see that she was just using him? Holding onto him the only way she knew how?

My hand runs through my hair, fighting the tangles that were proof of my sleepless nights. As brilliant as he was, he was such a man when it came to her. So gullible. It was so easy for him to fall charm to her tricks, for her to sink her oh-so-eager claws back into him. As if getting him to whisk her away to some near deserted island wasn't obvious enough.

He needed to hear this. He needed it written down. To stare it down and absorb every word, every nuance. It may take years, but he would thank me for this.

He has to.


"Mommy!"

The eager squeal rippled through the morning breeze as a wave did across the shore. Olivia looked up, waving slowly in response to her daughter's excited manner.

Caitlin jumped in the air, stumbling slightly as she landed. "Look what me and Daddy saw!" She held up her plastic bucket excitedly, proof of all they had witnessed. Charging through the sea, drops of water flew up around her and suspended in the air for the briefest of moments.

Olivia opened her arms as the small wet body hurled herself forward, knocking them both back to the sand. The warm sand cushioned her dark head as she smiled up at her daughter, who continued to jabber excitedly.

"Fish Mommy! Lots of fish! Can I bring one home? And look-" she dug frantically through the collection in her sand bucket, "at this!" She grinned broadly as she held up a seashell triumphantly, the ridges smoothed away by the ocean. "It's for you."

She thrust the coral colored shell at her mother, kissing her cheek loudly before jumping up to scamper back to the water's edge. "I'm going to find a lot more for you," she promised with a shout over her shoulder.

Olivia sat up with a chuckle as Gregory sank down next to her. "She gets that from you, you know."

A light dusting of sand stuck to his wet thighs as he leaned over, brushing her hair away from her shoulder. "That what?" he asked as his lips kissed their way from her shoulder to her neck.

She smiled, inching closer to him as he nibbled at the sweet spot on the base of her neck. "That- that…," she trailed off as she closed her eyes, allowing the bulk of her weight to rest against his chest.

"Since when do you have difficulty speaking?"

"Darling," she sighed with a hint of laughter in her voice as he lay on his side. She curled up against him, her head resting over his heart. "I lose myself around you. Even the simplest things, like remembering to breathe, become difficult."

A chuckle rumbled low in his throat, as his lips continued to brush across her warm flesh. "I take your breath away?" he asked, threading his fingers through her windblown hair.

"You always have." She turned her face, the corner of her lips curling up as the tips of his fingers grazed her cheek. "Does that surprise you?"

"Stunted breath? A weakness in the knees? Having your heart beat so fast you're sure it'll pound right out of your chest?" He paused, dropping his voice to a near whisper as he held her gaze. "Not at all."


It's early. The sun is barely in the sky, but I feel as if I've been awake for hours. My mind is sharp and my eyes see with a new clarity.

The offices of Erickson Vickers are quiet. It'll be at least an hour before the first wave of employees pass through the glass doors of the lobby. For now, my heels click across the marble floor and I ignore the echo that bounces between the walls.

My office is close to his, bookends on the floor. It made it easy. A quick phone call and one of us was on our way, to the others office for the hottest of interludes. The way he'd throw me onto the desk, the papers scattering and fluttering to the floor. The lengths we'd go through to stifle the sounds of passion, less our daft secretaries overhear something they shouldn't.

I push open the door to his office and pass through the waiting area quickly. His office cool, not yet warmed by the sun. Crossing to the desk, I stare down at the pictures arranged neatly on the surface.

One is a posed shot of his daughter. The full pink skirt balloons out around her as she beams up at the camera. Baby diamond studs grace her ears, a thin gold bracelet cups her tiny wrist. Her hands are clasped beneath her chin, the hint of dimples imprint her cheeks. A barrette barely contains her long flaxen hair, loosely curled for the occasion.

My finger traces the corner of the gilded frame and I can't help but smile down at her. She was an adorable little girl. I wonder how she would warm to me after.

The smile fades as I take notice of the next photograph. It's the same shot of her that was in the society column several months ago. He managed to obtain a color copy and here it was, displayed in it's place of honor on his desk.

I resist the urge to smash it, my fist pounding into it repeatedly until it ceases to be something that would be in a place of honor. I continue to glare at it, wondering if he experienced the same degree of rage when he looked at a picture of my husband.

Sweet, simple, unsuspecting Jack Russell. We just passed our four-month anniversary and already he was irritating the hell out of me. Perhaps he always had and I just never paid enough attention before. Marrying my high school sweetheart was the second biggest mistake of my life.

The first was that I had not been the one to marry Gregory.

I pop the locks on my briefcase and pull out the long envelope. The scent of freesia filled the empty room and I held the envelope beneath my nose for a long moment. Inhaling deeply, I close my eyes and try to forget the way he dismissed me with his eyes the last time I saw him.

She had bewitched him. And this letter was the only thing that could break the spell she had over him. Otherwise, he was lost to me.

Forever.


Caitlin was frolicking in the surf, her long braid flopping against her back. She would stop periodically and turn back to her parents, who were still sitting on the beach, and wave wildly.

Gregory waved and wrapped his arms back around Olivia, returning his hands to her lower abdomen. She sighed contentedly, biting into the polished apple with a loud crunch. "You know darling," she said in between bites, "it's been really incredible. I've hardly been sick at all."

"Compared to how ill you were with Caitlin, you're right," he agreed.

She laughed knowingly, holding up the apple to his mouth for him to bite. "I was so sick with her." She turned slightly to face him. "I was so sure that I was just going to vomit out my insides." She shook her head ruefully, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh of the fruit. "And how swollen my feet became-"

"To the point where the only shoes that would fit you were my old loafers," he picked up the story, laughing with her as she nodded enthusiastically.

Olivia wrapped the core in a napkin and tossed it aside with the other trash. "Oh but darling, she was worth it, wasn't she?" She smiled over at Caitlin, who was now dancing in the waves as she eagerly chased a piece of driftwood.

His breath tickled her ear as he murmured his agreement. He squeezed her closer, kissing the side of her head softly.

She reached up to cup his cheek as twilight swept across the sky. "I want to stay this way forever."

He covered her hand with his, dropping them both to his chest. "We will," he promised her in a whisper. "We've got the whole world at our fingertips, Liv. It's ours for the taking."

She turned around, resting her forehead against his. "I just want this. I just want peace."

"You'll have it," he assured her. "That and more. So much more. And no one is going to take that away from you."

She leaned closer, kissing his lips softly. "From us, darling. From us."