Tell Me I'm Dreamin' (24 page)

“As you can see they most certainly do,” he replied, softly.

“Have you ever explored that side of the island?” she asked, her attention fixed on the cliffs.

“Yes, I have, many times.” He paused. “The islanders call it the land of the cliff dwellers. They make their homes there amongst the rocks.”

“The cliff dwellers,” Nadine repeated the name as she focused on Ulysses' face.

“But it is nothing like most people think it is,” he said in measured tones. “They consider the cliffs to be sacred ground. A place to be guarded against strangers.” He looked down at Nadine.

She could feel his distrust coming alive again so she looked away, and was glad when the vendor announced their food was ready.

Nadine dove hungrily into the macaroni pie. She realized she really liked it. Or maybe it was just Ulysses' company that made it taste so good. She wanted to get back to the camaraderie she and Ulysses shared before she mentioned the cliffs. Throwing her head back, she locked her teeth together on a long, stringy piece of hot cheese and pulled. She almost choked when she began to laugh at Ulysses who was tossing a piping-hot pie back and forth between his hands like a frantic juggler. “Would you like to put some dance steps to that?” Nadine teased when she was finally able to speak.

“No,” Ulysses threw back at her, his eyes brimming with mischief. “But since you found that to be so funny, let us see how funny you think this is.” He picked up an abandoned cup of ice, and attempted to toss it down the back of her frock.

Nadine screamed with glee and hysteria as she twisted and turned to avoid the icy bath. Within no time at all the cup was empty, missing her by inches, and she dashed down the darkening beach to avoid any further acts of revenge.

At first Ulysses watched her go, her small but womanly curves silhouetted underneath the airy material of her dress, courtesy of the waning sunlight. Her spongy, tight twists bobbed with the motion of her sprint and the wind. Silvery sprays of white sand sprang forth from her heels, and Ulysses was reminded of the mythical Atalanta, who refused to be with any man who could not outdistance her in a footrace.

Nadine stopped abruptly to catch her breath and look behind her, and Ulysses saw this as his opportunity. He launched a hot pursuit.

Squealing with excitement as she watched Ulysses' rapid approach, Nadine struggled to remove her sandals, knowing her chances of escape would be better without them. Then, as if out of nowhere, her childish game had a dual purpose. She ran for the pure excitement of it, but Nadine also ran because she did not know if she could bear Ulysses' touch without totally giving in to her own desire.

Her mouth parted as she gulped in the sea breeze, her pink tongue tasting the saltiness that came with it. As she ran Nadine could hear Ulysses panting not far behind her, but she dared not look back to see how close he was for she knew it would slow her down.

Ulysses imagined that Nadine's renewed zeal had sprung forth from a deeper source. He could only guess what it was as he drew closer, the scent of her perfume mixing with the salty breeze wafting around him. In a flash Ulysses assessed the distance between them, and he decided the moment was now. He let go a powerful grunt, then leaped. His hands encircled Nadine's waist as he came down, and they tumbled onto the warm, sun-bleached sand. Ulysses and Nadine rolled together until they ended up on their backs gasping for air.

“This is the kind of thing I would have been better at ten years ago,” he confessed, panting.

“I don't think I was ever good at anything like this.” Nadine swallowed, then took another deep breath.

“You could have fooled me,” Ulysses replied.

After a moment's respite, Nadine rolled on her side and looked at the now violet-colored Atlantic Ocean. “Oh my goodness, look at that. God, I have never seen anything so beautiful.” She marveled at the white sand that had taken on a golden hue because of the setting sun, and the sky which was a masterpiece of orange and red.

“Neither have I,” was Ulysses' husky response.

Nadine could feel his eyes upon her, and then the tender touch of his fingers as he outlined her profile. His fingers traipsed over her lips and down the smooth column of her throat, passing the necklaces as they continued their course. His hand opened when it reached her chest and rose with the fullness of her breasts. Softly he squeezed each mound, causing Nadine to moan, and her eyes to close with pleasure.

Ulysses' explorations continued, smoothing the flatness of her belly and running down the length of her thigh, only to come back up the other side. Then he made known to her the center of his thoughts. He could feel the heat as he softly kneaded her beneath the thin material.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Ulysses breathed into her ear. He positioned himself just above her, and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I want you, Nadine. I want you more than I have ever wanted any woman. But there can be no lies between us.” His scrutiny of her face continued. “I also want you to be sure that this is what you really want.” He turned silent before he spoke again. “I cannot promise you anything. I know that I care for you, but that is all that I can say at this time.”

Nadine nodded with understanding. “I'll need some time to think it over,” was her quiet response.

“You do that. But please, do not take too long.”

A wisp of smoke curled upward toward the fiery sky as Basil squinted, shielding his eyes from its sting. It was also a sign of the aggravation he felt as he watched the couple playing like children on the beach. There was no doubt in his mind what would take place once they reached a secluded spot further along the shore.

He had watched the woman mold her body enticingly against Deane's while the slow tune played in the tavern. From where he stood she appeared ready and willing for anything Ulysses might suggest. Yet on the way back to Sovereign yesterday evening, she had not shown
him
any affection at all. As he recalled, Nadine Clayton had acted standoffish and kept him at arm's length. Perhaps she was playing hard to get. She had shown him none of the hot, ready woman he had seen in the tavern. But he knew that was how women of African ancestry were, hot and ready for any man.

Basil flicked the ashes from his cigarette, then inhaled until the tip glowed red. You cannot trust those women at all, he thought. He knew that from firsthand experience. Basil seethed with lust and jealousy as he imagined what would happen next on the warm sand beneath Ulysses and Nadine.

Ulysses had always been able to attract women. All his life females flocked to him, and although Basil had never heard of him mistreating them, he knew none of them held a special place in his life. But Basil believed Ulysses' feelings for Nadine were different. It was the way he looked at her while they danced. The way he held her. And if that was true—Basil's cynical smile caused the cigarette to hang down—he would use those feelings, Ulysses' weakness, to his advantage during their meeting tomorrow. After that Ulysses' mind would be too occupied with other matters to take care of that hot African-American of his. Basil chuckled smugly. So actually I will be doing him a favor when I approach her. From what I have seen tonight, it will not matter to her if it is me or Deane between those slender thighs. It never matters to women like Nadine Clayton. To them one man is just as good as another. It is in their blood.

He took another slug from the flask of rum and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Basil's mind drifted to his last escapade in the workers' neighborhood, and his initial reaction was to make another visit there tonight. But soon he changed his mind, deciding to save his fervor for Miss Clayton. Maybe after I finish with her, I'll offer her to Rodney. Although by then she probably will not be in the mood for anyone else, and knowing Rodney, he would not want my leftovers anyway.

His drunken features registered a frown of disgust as he thought of his sissified brother, who preferred to hide behind Melanie's skirts. Basil remembered the first and last time he had ever taken Rodney with him to the neighborhood. He had thought Rodney was old enough to share a real man's pleasure. But he had been wrong. Rodney began to plead for him to stop long before the Black wench began to whimper with pain. By the time it was over Rodney's manhood was limp as a rag, and he was vomiting in the corner of the little shack.

No, I will not waste time with Rodney, Basil thought as he looked out at the dark beach. The African, Nadine, will be all mine.

Nadine closed the heavy oak door behind her and stood with her head resting against its strength. Her body ached for Ulysses, and if it had not been for his last words of wisdom, she would have given herself to him by now.

Immersed in thought she lit the lamp on the wall, and light sauntered forth in the dark room. She decided not to bathe in the large sunken tub tonight. It would be too much, reminding her of when she first actually saw Ulysses, nude, emerging from behind the huge statue of Poseidon. He himself like an ancient god. His muscular body slick with water. His inky curls plastered to his head. No. Nadine knew if she ventured beyond her bedroom door tonight, there would be no way she would not go to Ulysses.

She removed the cotton smock and poured some water from a pitcher into a matching basin. The cool water felt soothing as she splashed it on her face. She stroked her neck as the water trickled down her throat until her hand rested on the smooth stone tablets. This was a night for decisions.

Nadine paced inside the bedroom, thinking of the time she had spent with Ulysses and how the man and the island had touched her. No matter what decisions Nadine made tonight, she knew she would never be the same. She thought of the cliff dwellers, the necklace, and Madame Deane. Somehow the eccentric woman was the only one who had connected her with the cliff dwellers and the Legend of Lenora. How had she known?

Nadine walked over to the bed and removed the animal skin Madame Deane had forced upon her several weeks ago. At the time she had dismissed it as part of the woman's fantasies, but now she wasn't so sure.

With willed calm Nadine unrolled the goatskin cloth. Inside she found two worn papyri covered with the hieratic characters of Mu, the petroglyphs carved on her necklace. But along with that were several pieces of paper written entirely in English. She stared at the words written at the top. The Legend of Lenora. It was obviously an interpretation of the hieroglyphics! Stunned, she sat down with it in her hands, her eyes quickly sweeping the page. Nadine wondered who could have interpreted the writing. But the question was soon forgotten as she began to read the story.

Thousands of years ago, Lenora lived on the now-sunken continent of Lemuria, during a time when one had to do no more than think of what he or she desired and it would be. Food, clothing, precious stones, water, it did not matter. Honoring the earth, Gaia, and tapping into one's emotions was the key to the Lemurian power. The Lemurians felt closest to the Goddess, although they believed in the trilogy of God/Goddess/All There Is. It was a magical time, and happiness abounded amongst the people.

Lenora was no different from the Lemurians in that respect, but she was physically different. Her eyes were a brownish-jade amongst a sea of dark-brown. Verda, the head seer, had been consulted when she was born, and she simply advised Lenora's mother to love her all the more because of her uniqueness. Verda prophesied that one day, Lenora would play a very important role in the rebirth of the Lemurian culture on Gaia, and the return of the Goddess.

The Lemurians knew they were not the only people in the world. Others lived on the opposite side of the great water. In some ways the Others were more technologically powerful and advanced than they were, and they did not honor the Goddess. The Others believed intellect and logic were the main properties of God, so they confined themselves to those properties. This knowledge did not frighten the Lemurians. Their lives were so fulfilled they gave the Others little thought. The Lemurians simply hoped the lives of the Others were as fulfilled as their own.

By the time Lenora approached womanhood there had been several earthquakes on the continent during which Gaia shook and shifted, each quake greater than the previous occurrence. The Lemurians realized the earthquakes were the result of the Others' technological experiments without concern for Gaia, and that Gaia, an extension of the Goddess herself, would not tolerate it much longer.

The Lemurians began to live in fear because the Goddess had not stopped the Others, and their faith in her lessened. Their decline in faith was manifested in a waning in their capability to materialize their needs and desires, and the times became hard.

Eventually, Verda warned the Lemurians of a great earthquake to come. It would be the last, and it would sink the continent of Lemuria. She told them they would have to leave their island home if they hoped to survive.

Preparations were made. In order for them to muster up the resources it would take for the long journey they knew lay ahead, the group worked together to manifest their needs. Lenora and her mother left Lemuria along with thousands of others. Some took their large watercrafts to the east and some to the west. They traveled for months and over time; many watched their loved ones die under horrid conditions. Lenora was one of them; her mother died before they reached land. Although they believed in reincarnation, the sorrow they felt was overwhelming, and they thought the Goddess had forgotten them.

By the time Lenora's group reached an uninhabited shore that would welcome them, Verda, the seer, was dying. But before she passed away she gave Lenora a glimpse into her past and her future. She told Lenora that unknown to her mother, and through their technology, she had been seeded by the Others. The proof was in her brownish-jade eyes. Then Verda told her that thousands of years in the future, another who looked like her would be born. Deep inside, this woman would house her memories and it would be like she had been reborn. This woman would be important to the reemergence of Mu. She would travel to a distant land. Lemurian descendants who still remembered would be waiting for her. In that distant land, she would be thrust in the middle of turmoil, and ill will would sprout like mushrooms in a field. But, the seer promised, if need be, she, Verda, would be there.