The Glass Secret (Chain of Secrets) (42 page)

“I-I am not—” I paused and glanced into the grayness of the room, pushing away any concerns that I could be in danger. This man would never hurt me. “Rain, you’re right,” I said, pausing for a second time.
Screw it!
I could always call Nuilley if he decided to go psycho on me. “Let’s live in the moment.” I relented, raising my champagne glass into the air.

For the first time since meeting him, I had felt like my confidence out shined his...not that it was a competition. “Why don’t we enjoy this lovely food, and you tell me the rest of the story about the spa?”

“Excellent answer.” He smiled coyly and raised his glass to the rim of mine. The light in his smoky gray eyes returned. “To time,” he said, gazing into my eyes with an intensity.

“To time.” I repeated. Why not? There was something profound about the two simple words, followed by the perfect pinging echo when our glasses made contact.

“Why don’t we sit here,” he said, eyeing the steps of the pedestal. “And I will tell you the rest of the story while you nibble on these.” He picked up the small plate of finger foods and motioned me forward.

“Okay...that sounds nice.” Then, I wondered if he mind-controlled my answer earlier? Did he know I needed to feel a sense of control?
Damn, he still rattled me.
I realized I wasn’t in control of anything that happened that day, or in the last minutes, of course, that was in hindsight. At that moment, I had crossed into uncharted territories that I knew little about, again in hindsight.

-50-

Legend has it...

We sat on the edge of the pedestal that led up into the antique bathing tub, and he told me the history behind it.

“Let’s see. Where should I begin?” He paused to smile at me. “It was forged by a blacksmith, Marc Chanel, in the early nineteen-hundreds. And, his lady friend and artist, Adrianne Reilly did the fine details. Of course, I added the spa features—”

I interrupted before he could finish. “Oh dear, I could never afford something this special if that’s what you’re thinking? Not right now anyway. I’m sure it’s priceless.”

He placed his hand over mine and smiled. “You are right...there is not a price that anyone could put on this,” he said with a meaningful edge. I almost felt like he was referring to me instead of the spa.

“I could only imagine what that would be. It’s so exquisite.” I slightly arched my brows, scanning the spa. “When I was a teenager my father forced me to go on a trip to this boring little town in Florida, it was actually then that I ended up falling in love with anything old. I mean antiques. Although I did meet my first crush there, it just so happened that he was too old for me. Anyway, that’s another story.” I felt my cheeks heat as I glanced up at Rain.

Pull it together Brie!

As an author I tended to speak out how I wrote. Allowing the words to flow freely through me, jotting down all the relevant information at once, unfortunately in real-life dialogue you can’t edit yourself once it’s out there.

“First love,” Rain pointedly said and paused. “Those are worthy stories to share.” He smiled sincerely. I figured he was only being polite.

“Mine was short lived.” I laughed.

“Yes, mine was too.” His smile faded. Time for a subject change. I didn’t want him to think about who ever it was that had caused his smile to wither. First rule in meeting someone new don’t talk about ex’s. I kicked myself for bringing up the subject, but how was I to know his first love was seemingly something more profound than mine.

“Hmm. So, do you like going on treasure hunts for antiques?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”

“I love do that when I’m not busy writing, of course.” His eyes followed mine as I spoke. “I’ve only collected a few pieces. I would never part with any of them. They’re so special to me. For some reason, I gravitate to the ones that have sweet stories behind them. But, they’re small and inexpensive, nothing quite like this.” I gleamed into his eyes, reaching for one of the pastries resting on the silver plate.

Feeling famished from all the shopping that day, I needed a little sugar-pick-me-up. Rain had one of those hypnotizing voices that could act as a drug, inducing sleep. Trust me when I say he was the type of man that a woman would fight off the urge to sleep if it meant staring into his gorgeous face. There would be no sleeping when he would be around, as in sleeping—going night-night, unless you had fallen asleep in his strong arms.

His smile began in his eyes and landed on the corners of his lips, tilting upward, ever so subtly. “Yes...I understand...you seem like the type of woman that would collect jewelry boxes.”

I bit my bottom lip. “Hmm, how did you know?”

“Oh, just a guess.”

I peered at him suspiciously. “Have we ever met before, at the antique mall maybe?” I smiled nervously. I certainly would have remembered him, perhaps he saw me there, considering he is in the business. God, the thought of that made me cringe...when I go antiquing I usually wear a long vintage dress from the 30’s, combat boots and a floppy hat. Yikes!

“No. I don’t believe we’ve ever met at the antique market. I would’ve remembered you from there.” 

“Hmm, okay...well, tell me more about this beautiful spa...I can’t wait to hear about the love story, too. I hope it’s a happy one.”

A dark shadow crossed over his face. “Perhaps, I should tell you another time.”

“Oh dear...it doesn’t have a happy ending, does it?” I asked, playing with the odd shaped crispy treat. I was waiting for the perfect moment to devour it.

“Brielle, all love stories are happy. Sometimes they have sad endings, but they all begin with love, so that is what makes them worth telling.”

“I like the way your mind works...so please tell me more... tell me the story. I don’t care if it’s sad.” And I didn’t, I could listen to him talk about nothing all night.

“Thank you Brielle, and yes, of course, if you are sure you want to hear it?”

“I do. Unhappy ending and all.” I frowned slightly, furrowing my brows. I took a small bite of the tube-shaped flaky pastry. It burst with the flavor of vanilla bean and orange peel, overfilling my mouth with a huge dollop of expected whipped cream.

“Uh, you have—” He said smiling, revealing his beautiful set of white teeth. Damn, his smile reminded me of Dwayne Johnson, known best as
The Rock.
His eyes smiled too, narrowing a fraction, delightfully appraising my face.

“Oh my goodness. What is this? It’s so delicious,” I said excitingly. I had a weakness for anything sweet.

Rain half-laughed. “Hold very still.” He reached for a napkin. “You have a bit of the cream on your face.” Tenderly, he dabbed my upper lip and the tip of my nose.

“Oh jeez,” I blushed. “Nothing like making a first impression.”

“It’s okay. They’re very messy.”

“What’s this called?” I asked, taking a cautious bite in fear of the cream spurting out all over my face, again. “It’s really delicious,” I mumbled as I chewed, then licked my lips and fingers. It was beyond messy.

“It’s a recipe I made up as a kid. I named them ding-dongs.” A laugh bubbled out of the back of my throat, almost causing me to gag. “Be careful. I don’t want you to choke on my ding-dongs,” he said in a serious tone.

I burst out laughing. I couldn’t hold it back and Rain’s expression was unreadable. “Are you okay?” His equanimity was way too controlled.

“Yes...yes. Fine,” I said between gasps of laughter, doing my best to regain my composure. “Please. It’s the name... ding-
ding-dongs,
” I shrieked softly and caught my breath. “It just sounds silly to me, I guess. I’m sorry.” I held back my laughter so hard that I had tears coming from my eyes.

“You are a very funny woman, Brielle.”

“They’re really good Rain, honestly. You amaze me. I don’t know too many men who can bake. At least something that tastes so good,” I said, smiling the biggest grin that made my cheeks hurt. I felt so elated inside. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed over the silliest thing, even if no one was laughing with me. Rain had something about him that made me feel as if I were flying as high as a kite.

“I am glad that you are enjoying my ding-dong so much. It seems to be making you very happy.”

“Oh Rain. Stop, stop,” I said, gasping for air, laughing again. My stomach muscles quivered as I spoke.

He didn’t get what he was doing to me, or maybe he did. It didn’t matter; it felt healing to laugh out loud in his presence.

Rain joined into the laughter with me, although I wasn’t sure if he truly understood why I was laughing. He had to have! Then again, perhaps it was the cultural difference between us. When I worked up the nerve, I painfully, in not so many words, explained why I was laughing, he finally broke down and laughed too. I was then suspicious he knew exactly what he was doing all along. Of course he had. He was too educated to not get it. Besides, after all he was a man. A mysterious, demure and calculating man.

Our laughter and conversation eventually had come full circle back to the story about the spa.

Rain spoke unhurried and precise. “Okay. Here it goes. But, before I begin, I want to tell you that their love has touched and changed the lives of many in a positive way...and will continue to do so.”

My smile broadened, “I like it so far...” I rested my hand beneath my chin, gazing at Rain’s face.

“So, as it’s told...legend has it that the young man commissioned the spa to be made for his bride-to-be. He wanted to give her something very special, a piece that would be one of a kind. Like she was to him.”

“Aww...it’s certainly special—and what a nice wedding present. Who would of thought of such a gift?  A vintage tub is every girl’s dream.”

“Yes, but of course, it wasn’t considered vintage at the time.” Rain pointed out.

“Oh right, that’s true,” I said, feeling a bit embarrassed. “This must be almost one-hundred years old, now, or getting close to that anyway. I am sure she loved it even back then.”

“Yes...if only,” he said. A dark shadow crossed over Rain’s eyes. It was a look of despair, almost haunted. He seemed to really be affected by the story.

“Don’t tell me that something tragic happened to him.”

“Yes, you could say that,” Rain’s lips tightened as he spoke. “The groom never had the chance to give it to his young bride.”

“Oh, no. Why?” I asked then waited for the obvious news.

“There was an accident.”

“She died. Didn’t she?” I asked, swallowing hard, goose bumps coursed over my skin. I wasn’t sure how I had known the bride was the one who had died, and not the groom.

He nodded. “Yes...it was heartbreaking for the groom as I understand it...after her tragic death, the groom sank into a deep depression...legend has it that he called upon several gods, Hades the god of the underworld, Zeus the god of the sky, and Athena the goddess of wisdom, and he made a covenant with them.”

“What sort of covenant, do you know?”

Rain emphatically said, “Yes...the kind of deal that most men would never make. The gods told him that he had to sacrifice more than one half of his worldly treasures, and gift them to those less fortunate. In return, the spirits from beyond would grant him one wish. A divine one.”

“Are you serious. He had to give away almost everything he owned?” I asked.

“Yes, and so it was, his legacy was set forth. He gave away most of his worldly treasures during his time on earth. However, he had to ask others to pledge to complete the pact by giving away the gifts that he had given to his future bride. You see...her belongings were a part of the deal as well. But, remember nothing could be sold, these small treasures had to be given away as gifts...and, if anyone broke the pledge by selling her treasures, he promised to send a curse to them from beyond the grave.”

“Yikes...he would curse them...so, great then, that means he died young too, right?”

“Yes, he did...” Rain narrowed his eyes, raising one brow and lowering his voice. “But years after she had.” It felt as if Rain and I were two kids sitting in the dark by a campfire telling ghost stories.

“Then what? I mean all these years, surely someone sold something...or did his family or hers make sure the pledges came to fruition?”

“No they did not. He didn’t have an extended family, according to the legend. So the items were delivered to my uncle’s family.

“Oh I see. So then you’re related to the groom, uh?” I widened my eyes.

“Our families must have mingled.”

“But, your uncle knew him?”

“Knew him?” Rain pondered. “No, not really. He was a child at the time. The groom wrote out his last wishes and gave it to his parents, who in turn sent their son’s last will anonymously to my uncle’s family—asking if they would be so kind to carry out their son’s wishes...and, if they couldn’t complet
e
the covenant
,
the legacy would be passed down to their son, which was my great-uncle and so on.”

I knitted my brows together. “I wonder why the groom’s parents didn’t carry out their son’s last wishes?”