Chapter Two

The Pale Visitor

They had been talking for what felt like ages, reminiscing. They laughed and almost cried together and at times it felt like they'd never been apart. Then, when the conversation got deeper and more personal it felt like they'd never actually known each other at all.

"I am sorry," Chantal said suddenly with a bittersweet smile on her lips. "I wasn't lying earlier when I told you that your face was the only thing that kept me going when I was imprisoned. I waited for you to come and rescue me but you never did."

Nicolás could easily hear the accusation in her tone of voice as she spoke.

"We promised each other that our love would survive everything, remember?" she added.

"Chantal," he began. "I told you I looked everywhere for you."

She placed a finger to his lips to quiet him and gave him a rueful smile. "I loved you, Nicolás, then I hated you. I longed for you so much that it hurt, I called for you in my sleep while I was recuperating."

He hung his head sadly, troubled by what she was telling him. He had never meant to leave her anywhere, especially not in a prison camp in another country. She'd joined the resistance because she wanted too and because she had felt the need to do something. There had been no way to stop her when she'd made up her mind and he'd gotten home to a dark and cold house in the middle of the night and found a note on the table that said she'd left to do something for her country and that she would be back soon.

She looked away with tears in her eyes as she wrung her hands nervously. "I changed, Nicolás. I don't know if it was for better or worse, but I changed. At times I thought it better to have you believe that I was dead but as the years went by I,-" she trailed off and gave him a faint smile. "I realized that a part of me still loved you and that you deserved to know the truth."

"Chantal, perhaps it's not fair of me to say this to you but I have changed too. I moved on," he said softly. "I love someone else."

She nodded with a hesitant smile. "I just wanted to see you one more time," she whispered.

"Before what?" he asked carefully.

She leaned forward but her eyes strayed to something behind him for a moment. Nicolás found it odd but before he could turn around to see what, or who, it was something smacked into the side of his head and he fell to the floor unconscious.

Chantal glared at the man standing over her husband with a broken vase, her eyes hard. "Jean, my goodness you could have killed him," she said angrily.

"You said he didn't mean anything to you," he said simply.

Chantal sat down on the floor next to Nicolás and gently began to remove the strands of hair that was plastered against his cheek mixed with bright red blood. "He's of no use to any of us if he's dead," she whispered as she began to trail a manicured nail over his cheekbone. "His friends and Captain Aguirre would come after me and the captain especially can be very persistent."

"He knows you too. The man would never suspect you had anything to do with your husband's disappearance," Jean reasoned.

Chantal sighed and ran a hand through her brown hair. "You might be right but he isn't stupid and he won't let Nicolás go just like that," she replied seriously. "What if he sees us onboard?"

"Let's deal with that when the time comes," Jean reasoned.

OOOOOO

"Look," Eva encouraged.

Verónica let out a quivering breath, straightened and turned her gaze toward the endless gloomy corridor only to see Fernando, Dimas and a doctor coming their way.

Carolina brightened at the sight. "I told you he could fix it," she said jovially although her happiness at seeing her husband and the doctor was soon replaced by an increasing worry for both Francisca and Verónica.

"Doctor," Verónica acknowledged. "My mother, how is she?"

The somber man studied her for a moment and took in her worried stance and troubled eyes. "Miss de García," he began seriously, causing Verónica to swallow and force herself to remain calm.

"Your mother's condition is serious but stable at the moment," he explained.

"Does that mean that she will be all right?" Eva pushed.

The doctor turned to her with a curious look and Eva saw the slight hesitation.

Carolina nodded. "Please, we need to know. Francisca has been like a mother to us," she said.

"Doctor Algrasso," Fernando spoke up as he nodded toward Carolina and then Eva. "This is my wife Carolina Villanueva and her sister Eva Villanueva. Francisca has been working for their family since they were children."

The man nodded. "Very well, I shall be honest with you," he said. "Mrs. de García had a nasty fall. Apart from several cuts and bruises, a fractured ankle and a sprained wrist, she's taken a severe blow to the back of her head."

"Meaning," Eva asked worriedly.

The doctor sighed. "The mind is a very tricky thing to work with Miss Villanueva but I believe pressure is building up inside the brain which causes intracranial pressure to the skull that can be very troublesome,-"

"So she won't wake up?" Verónica asked.

The other's shared a solemn look.

"That is what you're trying to say isn't it? That she's - she's what? - That her heart is till pumping but her mind is gone?" Verónica questioned as her voice rose for every word she spoke.

Dimas gently put a hand on her shoulder but Verónica shrugged it off and pulled free, his gesture of comfort only frustrating her at the moment.

"Please, Verónica, calm down," Fernando cautioned.

"As I said. Your mother is still alive, her condition is stable. We simply doesn't know at the moment if the blow to her head has caused permanent damages," the doctor said calmly. "I am sorry."

"Can I sit with her?" Verónica asked hopefully.

He nodded. "You may but don't be alarmed by her appearance and please don't stay long," he replied.

"Why don't you go home with your family,-" Dimas began softly, trying to be nice.

"My mother is my family!" Verónica protested angrily.

He took a step back at her harsh tone and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I believe Mr. Gomez only has your best interest in mind," Fernando said as he turned to the maid with a slightly disapproving look, not liking the way she treated her friend. "I need to leave, you may take a cab later. Carolina, are you coming?"

"What? Yes, of course," she said with a smile and turned to her little sister. "Eva?"

"I think I'll wait here for Verónica," she replied.

"There is no need," she protested lightly.

"Go now, I'll wait here until you are ready to leave," Eva said.

"Dimas, is it?" Fernando asked curiously as they watched Verónica walk down the corridor. "Have you sorted everything out with Sebastían?"

"Mr. de la Cuesta is no longer my employer," he replied with a forced smile.

"And what are you going to do now then?" Fernando asked.

Dimas smirked. "I don't know. I have my patent back and while the idea is still fresh in my head I-," he trailed off, shrugged and made a face.

Carolina looked at her husband and nodded very faintly towards Verónica.

"Of course you'd be welcome to stay with us a few weeks until you have everything sorted. There's a small house on the land that you'd be able to use just the way you want," Fernando offered. "For a smaller sum of money, of course."

The idea of being close to Verónica, to be able to check up on her and make sure that she was all right, was all the push he needed to make his decision. He broke into a grin. "I would gladly accept your offer Mr. Fábregas," he replied curtly.

Fernando nodded. "Consider it settled then," he said as he walked up to his wife and hooked an arm with her.

Carolina turned to him mischievously. "If I didn't know you better I'd say you're playing a matchmaker," she teased.

"Nonsense," he mumbled.

OOOOOO

Pierre woke up hyperventilating with images of Clara, Natalia and Aníbal still fresh in his mind. He forced himself to take a deep breath, to calm down. He sat upright in his bed and grimaced at the soaked nightwear, threw it over his head in frustration then ran a hand through his dark hair.

"You left me with nothing and now you think I am lying," she said in a quivering voice, on the verge of tearing up. "You broke my heart."

He sighed as he closed his eyes and shook his head, a single tear escaping his eye as he saw her before him. "Oh Clara," he whispered.

He felt awful as he slowly pushed away the blanket and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He padded across the room and into the bathroom to splash some cold water into his face. As he let the tap gush with cold water he stared into the mirror and saw a weary man with red eyes and pale skin staring back at him, the brown eyes appeared soulless and cold through the mirror and he averted his gaze and sighed.

Retrieving the robe he quickly wrapped it around his body and tightened the knot. A minute later he stumbled out of his room and headed across the corridor and one level down to enter Clara's cabin. It felt like there was a tension in the room as he pushed the wooden door open to let himself in. He hit the light switch and was relieved to see nothing had changed since he'd last been there. Varela and his people had been quick and dealt with the search of her cabin with respect. He padded over to her bed and sat down on it as he stared off at the stars through the porthole. She would have loved the starry night sky.

Pierre turned to look at the nightstand and frowned in surprise as he spotted a bunch of letters he hadn't seen before. Curious he reached out for them and picked them up.

"Dear mother,

I have been meaning to write to you for quite some time now but I can't get around to do it. However, I feel I must tell you that all is well. I have gotten a job at a beautiful ship full of luxury and grace. She's called Barbara de Braganza and I'll be the lounge singer. It is such an amazing opportunity to be able to sing with brilliant musicians to back me up. There are so many wonderful people onboard this ship, I am so lucky right now.

That is not all. I've met the man of my dreams. If it weren't for him I'm not sure I would have been given the job. He stepped into the bar I've been working on recently one day, I let my eyes stray over to him several times. Then I thought nothing of it until he came the next day and the day after that. When I had finished up for the night one time we sat down and had a talk; we didn't stop until it was morning. There was an instant chemistry between us."

Pierre's smile was bittersweet as he sighed and averted his eyes from the paper before him and turned his head to gaze outside the window. After what he'd done he didn't deserve to be described like some unsung hero. He felt ashamed to read about himself. The letter continued but he couldn't finish it, instead he folded the paper and put it back into its white envelope.

Pierre traced his finger across the soft paper for a moment and was about to put the bunch of letters back on the nightstand when a smaller red envelope fell to the floor. Curious he bent down to pick it up and turned it around. "Last whishes" was stylized in large black letters. He hesitated for a moment unsure of how she meant but decided it might be important.

"To whoever holds this in his/her hand,

When you read this my heart has been broken. I am not sure what I have done but Pierre doesn't love me anymore and without him I have nothing to live for.

I was foolish to try and pursue a career as a vocalist with the help of Mr. Aníbal de Souza. He used me and said we would both be benefitting from the arrangement. He claimed no one would believe me if I told anyone that he raped me, that he forced himself onto me, because I was nothing but a young foolish woman out for money.

I understand why his wife drinks plentiful each night in the bar, I've seen bruises on her face; it's a different kind of abuse compared to mine but so very wrong anyway. I tried to help but it all turned into a nightmare as Mr. de Souza had a bad fall in his cabin and hit his head on the table. It was an accident. He went crazy, oppressing and mean as he tossed his wife to the floor like she was a ragdoll. I feared he was going to kill her so I whacked a vase over his head. I didn't mean to kill him, I never realized the blow would send him sprawling or that he would hit his head in the fall.

What I did was wrong and Natalia told me I couldn't tell the police because they would never believe what happened to be the truth. If you read this it doesn't matter anymore. I've finally become free of the burdens that grated on my nerves and prevented me from sleeping at nights.

My last wish is to be set free. I don't want to be buried deep underground. Please spread my ashes to the sea in the beauty of the sunset."

/Clara

Pierre hastily stood and threw the letter on the bed. He had to find her, find her casket and bring her back to the ship.

OOOOOO

To be continued