Crystal Warrior: Through All Eternity (Atlantean Crystal Saga Book 1) (69 page)

It was he, in the early days of their relationship, who'd worked so hard to get her to acknowledge and verbalize her emotions, he who'd said they had to be honest with one another. It had been no hardship for her to fall back into her old habits but when had he decided to let her? What had happened to his much-vaunted honesty?

Standing by the bed gazing down at him she tried to call back the overwhelming anger that had assailed her in the cafeteria earlier. To her consternation all she felt was a deep sorrow for the cruel disfigurement, and compassion, or was it love? Whatever it was had sapped all the venom from her fury, leaving her once again groping for words to describe her feelings.

He stirred and his eyes opened a little.

‘Hi, Georgi,’ he rasped. ‘Case gone—‘kay?’

‘Yes.’

‘What—been doing—since then?’

Putting her wallet on the bedside cabinet, Georgina turned to look out the window. For a long moment she gazed out at the distant ocean, two ships on the horizon, yachts lying into the wind near the shore and sail-boarders skimming across the water like birds. All of her life she'd longed for that kind of freedom within herself. All her life she'd been emotionally crippled by a basic inability to verbalize her inner being. The man in the bed had been her crutch, had tried to teach her to walk unaided, as it were.

And she could. She could run, even fly over water like those sail-boarders. Abruptly she turned and dropped into the chair by the bed.

‘Evading emotional stuff like I've always done.’

‘What—d'you mean?’ he asked reaching a hand towards her, his good eye clouded with concern.

Georgina took his hand in hers and felt the gearing of her anger slip another notch. Gould had given her so much. How could she berate him for taking from her something that she no longer wanted anyway?

With a sigh that seemed to come from deep in her gut she asked, ‘When were you going to tell me you'd fallen in love with Fran?’

His good eye closed briefly. The other with its lid and lashes burned away, twitched.

‘When—I was sure—I had. Didn't want—to hurt you—unnecessarily.’ His fingers tightened their grip round hers. ‘Sorry, Georgi.’

Tears welled in his good eye and Georgina tried to steel herself against pity with the thought he'd intended to come back to her after an affair with Fran if that was all it had proved to be. But her anger seemed to have spent all its violence earlier and all she had now was the harmless fizz. Relinquishing his hand, she clasped her own in her lap and sank back into the chair.

‘Eight months ago Torr Montgomery asked me to go away with him and I refused—because of the scandal it would cause basically. How pathetic does that make me?’

Gould's eyes were suddenly very blue, very wide open.

‘You?’ he croaked. ‘And Montgomery? Why?’

‘Why?’ Georgina almost laughed but a peculiar pain round her heart stole her mirth. ‘Why does a man ask a woman to go away with him?’

‘But—you hardly—knew h-him.’

‘You hardly knew Fran yet you were consoling her happily behind my back.’

‘That was—d-different—’ he began, then stopped with a shame-faced grimace.

‘Was it?’ Georgina asked softly.

Dark color flooded the pale cheeks and his mouth and hands began to agitate but he couldn't formulate an answer.

‘I stayed loyal to our relationship because I loved you. I didn't understand how I could want Torr too. I felt that made me a whore and I sent him away. But—you and Fran—’

‘Do you—love him?’

‘I don't know! What's love, Gould? I thought
we
were in love. How can I be in love with Torr? How do I know? How do you know you're in love with Fran? How does anyone know? What guarantee is there that someone else won't come along in a year or two and I'll want to go off with them? How do I know he won't fall out of love with me? And in love with Fran? That's what I don't understand, Gould! How do you know? How do you know your sister won't come along and steal the man you love from right under your nose?’

Chapter 38

A shudder of something cold and ancient rippled down her spine. Starting a little, she leant forward in the chair, hands clenched and eyes wide open. But it seemed the harder she stared the less she saw. The plaster walls in egg-shell blue drifted away and even the bed before her where Gould lay faded into nothingness.

As quickly and dreamily, she was in another room, another time. The massive slab rock walls were draped with woven hangings in turquoise, cream and terracotta, the room little more than a cell. A carved agricola bed inlaid with silver and gold stood against the wall, piled with brightly woven wool quilts and fine linen clagren.

Phryne, green eyes shooting darts of venom, was screaming at her.

‘You—went out of body with him while—while he was kurning me on the altar? You stole my Goddess essence the very first time?’

Instinctively Georgina raised her arm to ward off the sharp slap she knew was coming.

‘Georgi? Wha's—wrong?’

Gould's damaged voice dispelled the vision, its edges so clear drawn she felt she could have touched them, and once again she was sitting in the brightly lit hospital room.

‘Nothing,’ she muttered with a shudder. ‘It's nothing.’

Struggling into a sitting position, Gould leant across and grasped her wrist.

‘I didn't—mean to hurt—you, Georgi.—I'm—sorry.’ His body began to shake and his eyes to roll in his head. ‘They—they're coming—again—the aliens—they're coming—’

Rising swiftly, Georgina pulled his trembling body against hers and leant across and pressed the bell. Settling herself beside him on the bed, she rocked and talked soothingly until the nurse came to give him a shot. Every one of the crew of the ‘Astrid’ talked of the ‘aliens’ from time to time but it was always when they were upset and irrational. No one had tried to question them yet for memory alone seemed enough to set off what they'd all begun to call the ‘panic attacks’ which started with trembling and rational, though disjointed speech, and rapidly escalated into full-scale violent dementia.

As always, staff were only minutes away. They all knew the scale of violence could quickly become dangerous. Nurse Bailey hurried into the room with Dr. Raymond following.

‘It's only just started,’ Georgina said immediately. ‘I'm all right holding him.’

The injection was quickly administered, the nurse left and Dr. Raymond took the chair where Georgina had been sitting and began talking brightly about the delicious beef stew he'd smelt cooking when he came past the kitchens and speculating on whether the baked vegetables would be nicely browned and crisp or overdone and soggy. Gradually Gould calmed and slumped back onto his pillows.

‘What set this one off?’ Paul Raymond asked quietly.

‘I'm afraid I did,’ Georgina said heavily, watching Gould, who still appeared to be gazing at her from his lidless eye even though the drug had already closed his mind. Gently she leant across him to retrieve the eye-patch from his nightstand and slip it over his head. Then she turned to face the doctor.

‘And I'm probably going to set my sister off too, shortly.’

The doctor said nothing, just cocked one brow in question, and waited.

Georgina swallowed, dredged words into her mind, discarded them and searched for more. Hell! Were there any right or wrong words to tell how it was between the three of them?

‘I know—I've got to try and tell you this—this stuff,’ she stumbled, ‘because it could have an impact on their—health. But I've never been good at talking—hell, either one of them could do it ten times better than me—’

‘Which is why you are the one doing it,’ Paul Raymond said gently. ‘You probably have the most to gain by it.’

Georgina glared at him for a moment then sighed.

‘The irony of it is not lost on me,’ she admitted. Then muttered, ‘I don't know where the hell to start.’

‘The beginning is usually best. And Georgina, a doctor hears many things during the course of his work. Where there are people there are dramas. Try not to worry about what I'm going to think. It's not my job to judge. You're just giving me facts that might be pertinent to the well-being of my patients.’ He sent her a benign smile. ‘In the beginning?’

‘In the beginning—’ Georgina paused and dragged in a deep lungful of air. ‘—Fran came home to New Zealand with her fiancé to introduce him to our family. That was in August. Her fiancé was Torr.’

Occasionally Paul Raymond asked a question to clarify a point but mostly he just listened, his head cocked to one side, his kindly grey eyes thoughtful. Georgina skirted the ancient connection, giving the doctor enough bare facts to explain the tangled relationships in the present.

At last she said, with an uncharacteristic touch of defiance, ‘I feel I've waited long enough but—I can't sort anything with Torr until I've sorted it with Gould and Fran.’

‘Do you make a habit of beating yourself up?’

Georgina flushed, and Paul Raymond smiled gently.

‘I see you do. No one could say you hadn't been patient and more than fair. They've both probably been carrying a fair amount of guilt, which will be contributing to their instability. Dealing to the issues between you can only be beneficial in the long run. You go talk to your sister now and I'll be on hand as soon as you call. Okay?’

Georgina dragged in another calming breath, nodded and hurried from the room. In the hallway she paused, knowing she wasn't ready to confront Fran just yet and turned for the lounge at the far end of the corridor. A balcony opened from it with a sun-roof, potted palms and a magnificent view of the ocean. The room was empty save for the brother of one of the crew members of the ‘Astrid’ who was sprawled before the television. She'd met him a few times when she'd been doing healing work with his brother.

Big and dark with Irish blue eyes, he exuded a brash sexuality that expected to be noticed. Greeting him absently, she passed through the lounge and out onto the balcony.

Dark cloud built up far out on the horizon and the sea breeze danced capriciously over her skin as she leant on the railing. She was much more aware of the tension within her than of anything external. She'd never won in conflict with Fran and she wasn't looking forward to instigating a confrontation with her in her present state of mind. There was really no reason why it couldn't be free of acrimony but it wasn't likely to be. Under normal circumstances Fran was articulate and vocal in her own cause but there was very little that was normal in the current circumstance.

In retrospect she would probably find talking with Gould had been relatively easy. At least he'd been apologetic. The idea of Fran apologizing almost brought a smile to her lips.

‘That cloud-bank out there looks like it's trying to build into something.’

Sean Dayton, who a moment ago had been watching the television, leant against the railing at her side. Georgina shifted her awareness to the distant cloud mass.

‘I wouldn't know. I'm not really familiar with the weather patterns here.’

‘What's the climate like in New Zealand?’ he asked, leaning one elbow on the rail and inching his body closer.

Easing back a little, Georgina said, ‘Temperate. Cold, wet winters. Hot, humid summers. That's in the north where I come from. In the south they have snow in winter.’

Aware there was a chill in her voice and feeling ashamed for her scant politeness she forced herself to offer more information than she felt inclined.

As if she'd not just breathed enough ice to grow icicles on his chin he treated her to the full potency of his slow, charismatic smile, and said, ‘Hot and humid, huh? I have this theory that people tend to be like the climates that nurture them.’ He stopped and allowed his gaze to roam in a leisurely caress from her eyes to her knees and back up again, then suggested in husky tones, ‘I'm at a bit of a loose end. You look like you might be too. Care to test my theory?’

For an instant it felt as if her own face froze then fury rushed through her veins melting her body into action.

‘No thanks.’ Turning abruptly and aware as she did so that he reached for her, she hurried back through the lounge and down the corridor to Fran's room. How had she let that happen and what the hell was it about her that made him think she'd be interested? What had made Gavin Warner decide to seduce her? What had told him he could? What was it that men saw in her that spelt the word ‘whore’?

By the time she stopped outside Fran's room her blood was frothing and she knew she wouldn't make any kind of sense in a confrontation with Fran in this state. With her hand on the door she took several deep breaths and tried to re-conjure the vision of Phryne that had come to her while talking to Gould.

Phryne. Fran.

As dear and familiar to her as her own self. All that was light and bright, out-going and fearless, self-assured and talented, dynamic and resourceful.

Generous and loving. Yet she could be demanding and selfish, blithely expecting her wishes would be met.

All their life Fran had led, demanded, commanded. As naturally as she, Georgina, had followed, acquiesced, merged—seeking to atone for a sin many lifetimes old.

‘The debt's paid,’ she muttered, ‘with interest added.’

As the words were spoken she had the sense of a shadow lifting from around her, of the sun emerging from behind a cloud even though she stood in a windowless corridor. Closing her eyes, she gave herself permission to savor the moment, then pushed the door open.

Fran was in the act of swinging her long legs off the bed, as her sister entered.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ she demanded.

Georgina stopped, brows riding high on her forehead. The old Fran had never been rude. It was a derangement caused by the dematerialization and her inability to come to terms with the fact she was bald and probably always would be. Georgina knew that, but the unloving greeting rasped across her heart—a heart newly aware of its anger and pain, and tore at her soul that had just discovered the nature of its shackles and the key to unlock them.

‘Snuggling up to Gould,’ she snapped and had the satisfaction of seeing two bright spots of color stain her sister's pale cheeks.

‘He's supposed to be resting.’

‘You can snuggle and rest at the same time.’

Georgina came to the foot of the bed and glared at her twin. For a moment green gaze held gold then Fran muttered, ‘You know, don't you?’

Georgina nodded.

The color came and went in Fran's cheeks then her eyes narrowed.

‘Did Gould tell you?’

‘No. Merryn did before I came to—help look for you.’

‘You've known all along?’

‘Yep.’

Fran sank back against the pillows, her chin jutting with belligerence.

‘So why are you angry now when you weren't before? Did Gould give you the brush-off?’

‘No—he—didn't—and if there's any brushing-off to be done, I'll be doing it.’ There was nothing wrong with her pride apparently. ‘As to why now, I've only just discovered I'm angry, like so bloody angry I threw up. You wanna know why I'm angry? I'm angry because I never went with Torr when he asked me to—back in August!’

There was a voice somewhere in the back of her mind that said that was bitchy and she wasn't usually bitchy but she was listening to the louder voice over-riding it which pointed out how bitchy she felt and how good it was to say how she felt.

‘What do you mean, Torr asked you to go with him in August?’ Fran cried, her eyes storming and her hands grasping chunks of bedding and screwing it into knots. ‘He was engaged to me back in August!’

‘So right! And when Gould began consoling you he was living with me! The difference is I cared enough about my relationship with each of you not to do something every particle of my being longed to do. I sent Torr away.’

‘What are you trying to say, Georgina?’

‘I'm saying I'm pissed off you didn't care enough about me to give me the same consideration. I'm saying I'm pissed off that I wasted eight months of my life for someone who doesn't give a damn!’

Suddenly Fran was up on her knees and gripping the end of the bed with her face thrust only inches from Georgina's.

‘I can't see what you're so pissed about,’ she shouted. ‘By your own admission you didn't want Gould even back in August. You're just being a bloody dog in a manger! At least I knew what I wanted and had the gumption to go out and get it while you were doing your typical ‘hide in the corner’ act. Just like you've always done. No wonder Gould was so blown away by my knowing what I wanted and being able to verbalize it. He probably had to guess what you were thinking all the time. You're just a pathetic inarticulate, George. ‘

‘Not any more! I've just discovered how good it feels to tell someone exactly what I feel about them. You missed the whole point in your usual selfish rush to see things only from your own point of view. I'm hurt because you didn't give me the consideration I gave you.’

‘Well I don't see there was anything to consider! All I know is, I love Gould in a way you never could. It's like I've always loved him and he me. If it's an apology you're after, George, you're wasting your time. I'll never apologize for loving Gould, to you or anyone! So there!’

Little flecks of foam were gathering in the corners of her mouth and her eyes were becoming wilder and almost colorless. A terrible desire had arisen in Georgina to slap her sister's face, exactly as Phryne had slapped Gynevra in that other lifetime. It was only the realization that Fran was far from her normal self that kept her hands still.