Tell Me I'm Dreamin' (18 page)

The constant activity jostled Nadine back into reality. She had passed the last forty-eight hours operating on automatic, spending longer hours at work, not taking lunch, and doing what needed to be done at the office to keep herself occupied. Dinner the last two evenings had been food from a street vendor not far from the library. It was convenient as she continued to work late into the night.

Instinctively, Nadine's fingers touched the small tablets that hung about her throat. She had not worn the cliff dwellers' necklace since the night she discovered the meaning of the petroglyphs. She had been afraid. But after her chance encounter with Ulysses, and Nadine now doubted whether she should call it that, she no longer felt that fear. Instead there was a feeling of resolution. Only so many things could be summed up as chance, coincidence. Nadine decided her return to Eros had to be some kind of fate.

As she focused on the island and not on her thoughts, she noticed three cliff dwellers who had stopped selling their wares to look at her. Once she acknowledged their presence they were content, and went back to their work.

Convinced more than ever that she was destined to come back to Eros, Nadine walked further into the business district. She sat on a large boulder near the front of the makeshift library/museum. From her vantage point she could see the majority of the little lanes that served as streets. They all converged at the huge statue of Dionysus. White-washed buildings sparkled in the sun as visitors and islanders alike went in and out of the shops where jewelry, pottery, and colorful cottons were sold. Behind her, several sailboats with their sails wrapped around their masts rested at the dock, which was outlined by the Atlantic Ocean in all its splendor. The water was the bluest of blues and as smooth as a sapphire.

A band near the statue of Dionysus played vibrantly for an attentive audience who snacked on travelers, syrup-covered snowballs, lead pipes, glass cakes, and peanut brittle. Nadine did not mind that Clarence was not there to pick her up as soon as the ferry arrived. It gave her an opportunity to take in the flavor of Eros during a holiday. The sights and sounds helped to lighten the feeling of foreboding she carried within her.

As she waited, Nadine decided to take a closer look at the festivities. She reintroduced herself to the proprietor of the library/museum, and asked if she could leave her suitcase there for a while. He obliged her happily, waving merrily as she departed.

Music could be heard everywhere, from make-shift family bands to the more professional groups. Further down the shore a beach tavern was packed with patrons. They ranged from little children to elderly couples. Huge spits sizzled not far from the water, the smell of roasting pork foretelling great meals to come.

Nadine stopped in one of the taverns to admire a group of people dancing to constantly changing tempos. Bunches of men and women alike pranced and shook to the invigorating sounds. One young man became the center of attention as he began several chains of leaps, squats, and spins, then stretched out inviting arms to a delighted pregnant woman with ignited coal-black eyes.

Nadine found the smiles and laughter to be contagious and shouted “Goat heaven” in unison with the gleeful, grateful crowd. Shouting the words felt strange, but it allowed her to release some of the tension that had built up around her return to Eros and Sovereign. Afterwards the people in the tavern threw money to the band. She guessed it was compensation for the good job they had done.

“You too have become a victim of the music,” a deep voice announced beside her.

“A victim?” Nadine acknowledged the pleasant stranger who spoke English.

“Good feelings that the music brings,” he returned with a wide smile.

Nadine met the man's offer of friendship with a smile of her own.

“Are you a tourist?” he asked.

“No, not really. Are you?” Bright hazel eyes reciprocated the question.

“No, I live here on Eros. Basil Sharpe,” he extended his hand in introduction, “is the name.”

“Oh, Mr. Sharpe. I've already had the pleasure of meeting your brother, Rodney, and your sister, Melanie.”

Thick eyebrows framed Basil Sharpe's curious eyes as he made a closer appraisal of the young woman beside him. “Is that right?”

“It sure is. About three weeks ago I was a guest at the Sovereign estate. I met your brother during breakfast one morning, and later on that same day I met Melanie at the rum still.”

Basil Sharpe continued to smile down into the animated features in front of him, but an almost imperceptible jerk started about his curved lips. “Eros is quite an intimate island; I am disappointed that I am the last of the Sharpes to meet you. Are you a friend of Ulysses and Madame Deane, Miss . . . uh?”

“Clayton, Nadine Clayton,” she complied. “No, actually I'm here to do some work for them, in conjunction with a project that I've been assigned to through the World Treasures Institute.”

“Oh, I see,” he said.

Nadine stepped back just in time to avoid a collision with a swirling couple whooshing by. The reaction caused her to step on Basil's foot that was planted firmly behind her own. “I am so sorry.” The sincere apology poured out as she quickly removed her sneaker-clad foot.

“I do not know that sorry will be enough.” He feigned extreme pain. “I will accept no less than dinner at Sharpe Hall, so our family can officially welcome you to Eros,” Basil insisted. “At your convenience, of course.”

Nadine's look of concern turned to relief as she regarded his teasing features. “I think that can be arranged,” she acquiesced.

Basil Sharpe raised both arms above his head. Snapping his fingers in unison, he shouted, “Goat heaven!” as the band struck up another vibrant tune.

Catherine gave Nadine a warm welcome as she apologized for Ulysses' and Madame Deane's absence. “Sorry neither of them are here, Miss Nadine. Madame is napping after her noon medication and Ulysses is out on the grounds.”

“It's okay, Catherine. I'm here to work just like you, so no grand reception was required,” Nadine replied.

Actually, she felt relieved when she heard Ulysses was not inside the house. It would give her an opportunity to pass a few moments with Catherine, who did not hesitate in updating her on news.

“Other than that, things are about the same around here,” Catherine informed her. “A few things have gone awry, but Master Ulysses has it under control now.” She gave Nadine a white envelope. “It is from Master Ulysses,” Catherine said. “He told me to give it to you once you arrived. Just between you and me, that handsome devil has been nothing but one headache after another lately. Now that you are back, maybe things will get better.”

Surprised to hear her say such a thing, Nadine looked up from the envelope to Catherine's face.

“You know what I mean. To help with the book sale and all.” Catherine's eyes darted to the left as she tried to cover up her all-too-meaningful words. “He says you can get started in the antechamber whenever you like,” she stated after walking Nadine to her room, then continued on her way.

Nadine was given the same room she had occupied during her initial visit to Sovereign. Everything was the same, including the animal skin she had hidden behind the bed. She looked at the dresser, and couldn't help but think of the onyx unicorn that had been taken.

She stopped and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Slender fingers touched high cheekbones as she leaned closer to the glass for a more intense inspection. There was something decidedly different about her. But as she examined her image she didn't quite know what it was. Before coming to the islands she could say she had admirers, if you could call them that. Men, although Nadine could count the number on one hand, who had told her they found her to be attractive in her own way. But never had she received the kind of attention she was getting here.

Once again thoughts of Mr. Richarde, Basil Sharpe, and Ulysses passed through her mind as her slim eyebrows knitted together. Why does it seem like men are finding me so much more attractive here? She had heard stories that foreigners were attracted to African-Americans. The French were known for embracing and exalting African-American artists from singers to clothes designers, and the Swedes, she had heard, found African-Americans to be very attractive. But most of the stories she had heard about the islands involved the women being attracted to African-American men, not the reverse.

Nadine tilted her oval-shaped face to the side. She had to admit, since Ulysses Deane appeared in her life, she viewed herself differently. She felt more alluring, more feminine, and there were physical changes as well. Gone was the wrapped-around ponytail at the nape of her neck that she always wore. Gone were the days when she would wear only loose-fitted tops and blouses outside her long skirts and pants. Gone was the timid woman unsure of her own capability to love and desire. Now Nadine knew far too well what kind of searing fire desire could be. Especially when the object of those feelings had expressed that he no longer wanted to have anything to do with her.

She continued to stare at her reflection in the glass. Hope entered her eyes as she remembered Ulysses' conversation with Dr. Steward. He had persisted with the conversation until Dr. Steward agreed that she would be returning to Sovereign. Maybe there was still a chance. Nadine covered her mouth with a tense fist. But a chance for what?

She had let her hair dry naturally that morning, creating soft, but tight, amber twists which sat out from her face. Nadine's eyes enlarged as she thought, Maybe the things the town gossips used to say about a woman named Miss Lisa were true. Miss Lisa always had some eager male after her. “It's nature taking its course,” they would say. “The male animal always knows when the female's in heat. Be he two-legged or four.” She could feel the blood rising to her face. She was definitely in heat for Ulysses.

Nadine pushed away from the antique dressing table and completed her unpacking. Only then was she prepared to look inside the white envelope Catherine had given her. She turned the sealed package over in her hands; something slid to the corner. Nadine took a deep breath and opened it. She removed a single page of stationery with gold stalks of sugarcane embossed at the top corners. A metal key remained inside.

Nadine
—

This is the key to the antechamber. You will find all the supplies you need down there. Matches for the wall lamps can be found in the kitchen.

U.D.

That was all. Nadine had no idea what she had expected to read but this plain and simple message was definitely not it. She stared at the clean, crisp handwriting that flowed on the linen paper.

What did I expect, she asked herself. A profession of love? Or maybe I thought he would pour out his heart and tell me how much he missed me, that he was glad I had returned. Nadine gave a half laugh as she shook her head. Love did not bring me back to Sovereign, work did. That is what I need to accept, she thought, although she could feel the disappointment. Nadine took the key from the envelope, flipped it into the air, and caught it with a snap. Seconds later she placed it in the pocket of her jeans and headed for the antechamber.

Chapter
16

Nadine stopped by the kitchen and picked up a book of matches from a utility shelf. Afterwards she moved into the room Catherine called the hall. It was an extremely large room, sparsely decorated with stools, chairs, divans, and tables.

Six large bronze statues of gods and goddesses contrasted deliciously with the painted terra-cotta floor, resulting in a feeling of majesty. Nadine's mind conjured up pictures of boldly dressed male and female dancers, rhythmically moving their bodies and arms to the music of wind instruments and drums, honoring one or more of the deities looking on.

She traced her foot against the colorful patterns on the floor before crossing to the antechamber door. When she reached the bottom of the stairs Nadine illuminated her work area.

It was fairly large and filled with boxes of books and art. Despite the quantity, Nadine could see books were stored in an orderly fashion. The statues and paintings were separated from the vases and smaller objects, and the boxes of books were marked according to the country of their origin. There was very little, if any, dust or dirt to contend with, and a table had been set up with pads and pencils, as well as tags and labels. The tools for her work looked out of place in the antechamber. Their newness conflicted with the antiquities around them.

Nadine had not expected to be responsible for deciding the prices for the sale. Even with her brief visual assessment of the collection, she knew some of the books and objects would be considered priceless. Why would Ulysses give such a responsibility to a total stranger?

Her gaze rested on an especially delicate object. She picked it up, placing the carved ivory lyre with bronze-cast tips in the palm of her hand. She thought of the last confrontation she and Ulysses had the night before she left. He had told her in so many words he did not trust her. Ulysses questioned her reason for bursting into his room, even for being at Sovereign, although he was the one who had invited her. How could he be so sure she would not tuck the beautiful object away in her belongings and carry it back to Barbados? Had his feelings toward her changed? Something must have happened to change his mind, for him to allow her in the antechamber alone, without supervision. Maybe he had checked on the World Treasures Institute and found it
was
a prestigious organization that would only hire the best. Whatever the reason for Ulysses' change in attitude, his obvious trust made Nadine want to prove she was worthy of it.

Then a bothersome possibility entered her mind. Or could this be a setup? Nadine thought of the missing onyx slab. She did not want to think that Catherine or Clarence could have been responsible for taking it. But who else would have without saying something? For sure Ulysses would have no reason to steal an object like a thief in his own home and then say nothing, and it was highly improbable that Madame Deane was responsible. She pondered the issue even further, her thoughts becoming darker. Perhaps Ulysses was involved, without Madame Deane's knowledge, in some black market dealings, and she, Nadine, had unwittingly become a convenient pawn. Madame Deane had admitted they needed money, badly, and Ulysses hated to talk about it with outsiders. Could it be possible that he had found a way for the institute to help legitimize his transactions? This time she looked at the collection that surrounded her with apprehension.