Pearls of the Past Read online

  “What are you thinking?” Rusie asked.

  “Ohhhhh...” She hoped she sounded casual enough as she flapped her hand in the air. “I’ve just been wondering again if I’ve led you on a wild-goose chase.” She rolled slightly to lean on one elbow. “Although Da wouldn’t intentionally mislead us, maybe all those exciting adventure stories he told us were not quite correct. You know, genuine. After all, when you’re approaching your ninety-fifth birthday surely you’re allowed a little license with the facts. His reminiscing becomes a little less factual. I’m beginning to think I should have confided in him, told him exactly what I planned. It could save a lot of embarrassment.” Corrie hesitated for a moment. “For him, as well as us.”

  “Embarrassment? Gosh, you don’t think he was up to some hanky-panky in his past, do you? Not our darling Da!”

  Feeling guilty that she had cast aspersions on someone she admired and loved had Corrie off the bed in a flash to stand by the open glass doors. She spun around to face her cousin, the slither of apprehension she had felt at her unbidden thoughts making her voice sharp.

  “We could be intruding. Maybe Da only wants to remember his past in this wilderness as a dream-like experience.”

  “Wilderness! This, a wilderness?” Russella crowed. “Well, you’ve certainly changed your mind. What happened to quaint, magical island? And that’s not what made your frown appear. It was my nonsense last night. And don’t start denying it to make me feel good, because I won’t believe you.”

  Russella came to stand near her cousin.

  “Look, it’s over and done with,” Rusie said. “I really think someone must have spiked one of my drinks. It’s the only explanation I can think of to explain that moronic, disgusting episode.”

  Corrie knew spiked drinks weren’t to blame. It had all started the moment Rusie set eyes on Matthew Tamai, their captain for the journey from the mainland.

  “It’s the holiday atmosphere and tropical fever.” Corrie’s offered words held a soft laugh.

  “And someone so entirely different to anyone I’d ever laid eyes on before. Tropical infatuation, and nothing to do with reality. That’s what it is. Now, about this meeting? Ten-thirty you said?”

  “Rusie...” Corrie extended her hand in understanding at the hint of bravado in her cousin’s voice. “You don’t have to come. We may not even be welcome. The letter of reply was very curt, stating personal files were taboo. Quite honestly, I thought they would be our greatest source of information. Thinking about it, we could be wasting our time. And we do still have another source. There’s a local historical society, so all is not lost. Anyway, I’ve got the directions to Arafura Enterprises. Apparently, the head office is part of the Hendricks’ residence, built on a small bluff overlooking the wharf and within walking distance of here.”

  “What isn’t within walking distance?” Rusie laughed. “It’s certainly not an enormous island.”

  “It should take about fifteen minutes to get there. I, for one, would prefer to get this over and done with so we know exactly where we stand.”

  * * * *

  Rusie had her hand on the doorknob and Corrie had just swung her leather draw-string bag over her shoulder when a decisive knock sounded. Rusie automatically opened the door.

  Corrie heard Russella’s surprised gasp.

  Matthew Tamai stood framed against the brilliant sunlight. His wide, friendly smile adding more deadly charm.

  Corrie bristled. What did he want? Coming here to upset Rusie again? And at that moment of questioning, Corrie knew this thing, whatever it was, certainly wasn’t going to disappear. No matter how much she wished it would.

  The silence lengthened to such a degree that Corrie began to fidget with embarrassment. She felt compelled to break it. Just as she stepped forward, Matt’s voice reached her.

  It was a soft, slow, “Hello,” aimed at Rusie.

  And Corrie agreed it was enough to knock any female, of any age, for six. Let alone her poor, vulnerable Rusie. Well, she’d had enough of his games!

  “Mr. Tamai. What a surprise.”

  Matt’s eyes were glued on Russella, totally excluding Corrie; he didn’t even acknowledge her greeting. She could have been one of those noisy geckos on the wall. Then, with a quirky grin, he extended his hand, holding a clear, plastic bag. It held a soggy, white, peaked cap.

  Russella had thrown down the challenge, and Matt had picked it up.

  Corrie watched this simple act seal Rusie’s fate.

  Her mouth tightened with determination. If this was an insincere, calculated move to influence her cousin, then Matthew Tamai had better watch his step. He would have Corrie Andrea Nelson to contend with!

  Now having achieved his aim, Matt looked toward her. “Good morning, Miss Nelson. I have a car at your disposal. If you’ll allow me the pleasure, we can be at your appointment with Arafura in minutes.”

  “We intended to walk.” Had she snapped? Too bad!

  Rusie swung around to face Corrie, her eyes wide with appeal.

  Matt was smiling even wider, his dark eyes dancing. “I agree it’s an enjoyable walk, but as you’re not accustomed to our heat, I would suggest my offer will have you there on time.”

  He knew exactly what she was thinking, and with Rusie facing her, mouthing please, please, Corrie felt ill disposed to reject the offer a second time. All of a sudden the nonsensical play-acting between them—Rusie, the totally lovelorn maiden, Matt, the conquering suitor, and she, the dragon-lady companion—hardly seemed worthwhile. Why let it spoil a perfectly glorious day? The first full day of being here on this special island.

  “Of course we’ll accept.” She laughed softly, and felt a hundred percent better for doing so. “You introduced yourself as Matthew Tamai when you welcomed the passengers aboard the ferry. I’m Corrie Nelson, and this is my cousin, Russella Nelson.”

  “When I checked you on board, I did wonder what the initials C and R stood for.” His eyes were again on her cousin for a moment before Corrie had his attention. “So we’ll be off. Can’t keep the boss waiting,” he said with calm, matter-of-fact words.

  * * * *

  Britt stood on the balcony, above where the company station wagon was now pulling to a stop.

  He chuckled. “He’s as crafty as Job himself, insisting he have today off and that he needed the station wagon.”

  A rock-hard fist slammed him in the middle of his chest! There below him, swinging her slender, shapely legs from the car, emerged the most fascinating, elegant female he had ever laid eyes on.

  Medium height, almost overly slender, brown hair of an extraordinary shade, and an oval face of pure perfection, held and captured his every sense. The strangest feeling of recognition assailed him, knotting every muscle in his body. It prickled the back of his neck then lanced deep into his chest.

  He knew her! He did!

  Yet they had never met. Couldn’t have.

  The knowledge astounded him. He was sure he had never even seen her before this moment, but the recognition was unaccountably there—strong, disturbing, and deep. This was meant to happen!

  And he hoped to hell she wasn’t the R Nelson that Matt had warned them both to keep their eyes and hands off of. A harsh rush of bitterness toward Matt swamped him; bitterness instantly manifesting into unwarranted loathing.

  He wrenched his gaze from the vision of loveliness to turn away, angrily striding back inside to stand beside the large desk. His closed fist hit one polished corner, the weight of his body thrust forward, his eyes focused on a red haze of unaccountable anger. Christ! What was happening to him?

  “I must congratulate Matt on his good taste.” Victor chuckled as he walked to where Britt stood leaning over the desk.

  His unfocused eyes on the surface he wasn’t seeing, Britt swung around to face Vic. “What the hell are you going on about?” he demanded, words spoken purely to vent the unaccountable fury that speared through him. He didn’t expect or want an answer.

  Vi
ctor met him head-on. “And what the hell has got into you?” His black eyes on his friend for long moments, he studied Britt, then he advised calmly, “Whatever upset you, I suggest you put it aside. We have an appointment downstairs. Right now! Are you ready?”

  Britt managed to talk some sense into his tense body, allowing it to relax slightly. “You deal with it. You signed the letter.”

  “On behalf of you. Arafura Enterprises is you, Britt, and good manners cost very little. A subject you often lecture on.” Victor’s words of censure stopped, and he took a step toward his friend. “You concern me, Britt. What’s upset you?”

  “I will deal with it! Now, don’t keep the lady waiting.”

  Vic’s eyes held Britt’s for a moment, then he turned slightly toward the still open glass door leading to the balcony.

  Britt knew he was behaving irrationally, but how could he explain his behavior to Victor when he was incapable of understanding what had happened. He needed time to get his emotions under control.

  “You’ll have Matt bounding up those steps if you don’t make an appearance soon.” The quality of Britt’s voice brooked no argument.

  Victor searched his friend’s strained face with concern, before he added, “If you change your mind, it would be appreciated.”

  Britt took it as a subtle reminder that he should be the one at the meeting. But he turned away, refusing to comply with Vic’s request. The need to control this frightening anger he was experiencing took precedence before something, or someone, wore the results.

  * * * *

  Matt escorted Corrie and Russella into the reception area in front of a large, busy office seen through glass panels. A smiling island girl said, “I’m sorry, Mattie, they’re not down yet, but go through. Wing Lee will bring cool drinks.” She then focused on Corrie and Russella. “Hello. Welcome to Endeavour Island.”

  Her dazzling, white smile was open and friendly. As was everyone she had met so far, acknowledged Corrie, hoping the next two were no exception.

  Matt had told them that Victor Perrera, who had written the letter of reply, was the company’s head accountant as well as being personal secretary to Britt Hendricks, the owner of Arafura Enterprises. Seated in a modern stainless steel and leather chair, opposite an equally modern smoky glass topped desk, Corrie reassured herself she had, safely in her bag, the proof that their reason was genuine for seeking the information she hoped to find.

  Russella thought she was being overly cautious, bringing a business folder to the meeting. But Corrie had no intention of being denied access to records because of no acceptable identification. Of course she would have been able to fax home, but that would reveal where they were and their surprise would have been spoilt.

  She bit her lip, imagining her parents’ shocked reaction. They would be aghast! She wouldn’t blame them. Absolutely bewildered at her deceit, not telling them of the plans she was involved in. Let alone where their only child was, so far away, almost in New Guinea. It was so out of character.

  She had always been content with her parents’ company and her small but select group of friends, sharing nights at the theatre, opera, and musical evenings. Some would consider her parents’ protective love debilitating. But Corrie had never questioned such an attitude; she was thoroughly content.

  Unlike Rusie, always bemoaning the fact she was bored. Especially with her job as a trainee physiotherapist, wanting nothing more than to teach aerobics.

  “I’ve kept you waiting. My apology.” The melodious voice came from behind them as a second door opened. Corrie felt a ripple of relief flutter in her stomach; surely someone who owned such a voice wouldn’t be too hard to explain their cause to.

  That feeling soon disappeared as Matt slid off the corner of the desk to tersely question, “Where’s Britt?”

  “Caught up at the moment.” The owner of the voice came to stand in front of them. “Good morning. Mr. Hendricks apologizes. I’m Victor Perrera, second best I’m afraid.” He held his right hand out in welcome...his only hand. The left sleeve of his navy floral shirt was vacant, neatly tucked away where his missing arm should be. “And which is which?” he enquired, his dark gaze touching first Russella, then Corrie.

  Matt was instantly there to stand close. “This is Russella Nelson.”

  “Ahhh!” Victor nodded. “So you are the Miss R Nelson. And of course, you are Miss C Nelson.”

  As Corrie took his offered hand she found herself subjected to charming dark eyes in a mature, handsome, bronze face. Two charmers. First Matt, now Victor. Would Britt Hendricks be equally as charming? Corrie couldn’t help her wide smile.

  “Yes, I’m Miss C Nelson, Corrie to my friends.”

  “And I’ll count myself privileged indeed if I’m allowed to become one.” He slowly released her hand.

  “You are most gallant, sir.” A soft gurgle of laughter escaped before she added, “But perhaps it would be wise if we wait on the outcome of our meeting.”

  “You think it may not be amicable?”

  “I really don’t know. I thought I would be seeing Mr. Hendricks. I’m sure you’re very knowledgeable, but there could be information Mr. Hendricks may have put aside that would be of use to us.”

  Victor raised his hand to stop her words. She had the feeling this might happen, for she really had taken the expectations of this search for names, dates, and incidents, further than originally planned. In fact, every single thing since stepping aboard the yellow ferry had become larger than life, extending the boundaries of her normal everyday expectations.

  Only now was she willing to admit that the weird sensation on the wharf and at the motel had encouraged and nurtured an unfamiliar excitement. Unexplainable anticipation had taken hold of her, and she hoped to goodness she could contain it.

  “In my reply, Miss Nelson—”

  “I do know what your reply stated, quite clearly, I might add.” This wasn’t promising. He’d become all business-like, and Corrie understood why.

  “Then you are suggesting you want to have access to personal files? Is that correct? By your statement you have admitted receiving my letter before you left your home in Sydney, so there can be no mistaking—”

  “I thought—”

  “You thought what, Miss Nelson?” The deep-voiced question cracked through the air behind her.

  Corrie started alarmingly. Her hand clutched at her bag as it began sliding from her lap. Her whole attention had been on Victor as she tried to put her reasoning into logical, acceptable words that were failing miserably.

  She spun around. Making an attempt to stand, her fingers groped for the back of the leather chair, her breath choking on further explanation. How could she explain anything to this Nordic god filling the doorway?

  All twenty foot of him! Or so it seemed.

  Even Russella moved closer to Matt, almost hiding behind him.

  The man’s presence filled every corner of the room. And Corrie harbored the fleeting thought he was indeed not a charmer! Certainly not when he was so full of controlled anger. His frown was so deep she could barely distinguish the glittering green eyes leveled at her for such an extraordinary length of time. She felt her legs begin to tremble with fear.

  The ability to even swallow, let alone try to convince this man of what she wanted with concise words, was impossible. She tried to stay upright, but her legs had turned to jelly, and she had to sit down. Her weight seeking the strength of the chair, she teetered on its edge.

  She tried again to speak. Her eyes widened with dismay as the only sound that issued forth was a croak, her brain taking on the same debilitating quality as her legs—jelly mush! She desperately hung on to reality.

  “I’ve startled you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  His frown gone, his green eyes became visible. They were the color of the sea, clear, luminous, and beautiful, and they slowly began to trace every feature of her face with hidden tenderness. All she could do was tremble more; now all over.
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br />   “Will you introduce our guest, Vic?” There was no apology, his voice losing its cutting edge, lowered to a husky, bass baritone resembling the steady, deep-throated rumble of the ocean’s force.

  “The lady you have frightened half to death is Miss Corrie Nelson,” Vic replied.

  The man’s jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath.

  “This other lovely lady is Miss Russella Nelson,” Vic said, his hand extended in Rusie’s direction.

  Chapter 3

  Britt slowly turned his head with reluctance to leave Corrie’s wide-eyed, dismayed face. Of course, he acknowledged as he looked at the exotic, curvaceous, young thing positively glued to Matt’s protective side; she would be his young friend’s choice, and who could blame him? He inclined his head slightly then let his gaze return to the serene vision still looking at him with gray-eyed astonishment.

  He had already made the decision upstairs there was no way on earth he could deny the startling effect those long legs and slender, curved body had on him. It was the reason that drove him downstairs.

  There was no good turning his back on the inevitable, his destiny—illogical though it may be. And if it meant he was to give Matt a lecture about his unsuitable choice, then he would have done just that.

  Now, thank God, there was no need.

  This lovely creature wasn’t the R Nelson Matt had warned both he and Vic to stay away from. And that grinning idiot, Vic, knew the mistake he had made when he only saw one lady alight from the car. My God, there was no comparison!

  “Well, finish your job, Vic. Or perhaps I’ll do it for you.” He turned his gaze on Corrie. “I’m Britt Hendricks, and I welcome you to our island and our home.”

  “Welcome!” exploded Matt, now gaining his voice. “I’d hate to be unwelcome. You even had me not knowing which way to jump.”

  “And that would be a first, wouldn’t you say, Vic?” He turned to Matt. “So now that you’ve recovered, Matthew, could you see if Wing Lee has that tray ready? Please.” His eyes drifted from Matt leaving the room to where Corrie, given the small respite from his disturbing gaze, had managed to be seated squarely on the chair again. “And, Miss Nelson, please continue. You were saying to Vic?” he encouraged.