Chapter 16
It was getting dark, and the little parking lot near Kelly’s house was not too well lit. Pearl told his people to hide in the bushes around the house; he took the usual path, himself.
He almost ran into a man who was busy with Kelly’s car.
“Hey fella,” Pearl said casually, “what are you doing with the car?”
The man turned, and Pearl saw the features his friend an artist had drawn for him, the features that were chasing Mason in his nightmares.
He recoiled instinctively – and by this managed to evade a hook.
“Hey mister,” Pearl protested louder, “all I did was asking; now what do you think--”
The Indian took two steps back as Pearl did, too, and then, gracious like a cat, the Indian jumped back into the bushes.
Pearl’s people did earn their money. A little noise, and the Indian was on the ground, immobilized and breathing heavily.
Pearl gave him but a quick glance. “Call the police,” he ordered.
The car interested him more. He looked into the engine, and then squatted and looked under the car. “And – call 911, too,” he added slowly. “It’s explosive, I think.”
*
“Elena!” Mason called. No answer again.
His heart was pounding loudly.
It was getting dark, and as there was no one on deck Mason risked getting down. The promised dinner, and candles, and flowers – and there she was, sipping champagne.
“Good night, Mason,” she said with a smile. “Join me, will you?”
Mason sat down. At least this time he’d got her riddle right; what next?
“What do you want, Elena?” he said in a reserved tone.
“A true gentleman!! A little more champagne, please, and why don’t you bathe these strawberries in whipped cream.”
He added some champagne into her goblet. “You know it’s not what I asked you.”
She lifted her chin in a manner that seemed familiar to him. Of course: it was his father’s manner. Their father’s, that is.
“What is it you want, Mason?” she asked softly.
“What do I want? … I want a happy, quiet, safe life for myself and for those ones I love.”
“Eden and Kelly,” she prompted sadly.
“Right; aren’t they my sisters? And for you, too; aren’t you my sister.”
There was no surprise on Elena’s part. “I knew you’d figured it out somehow,” she admitted. “It was not too hard, I think; as long as you have money to pay there’s little left that’s impossible to have done. All’s about money...”
Mason just did not buy it: so many times had he been accused of mercenariness while he was just crying out for love. Enough to know that Elena was being insincere.
“Yes, I found out,” he agreed. “So, you’re my sister. And I want to be your brother and your friend.”
She laughed. “No you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You know I’m evil incarnate, and you want me out of your life – out of your – happy, quiet and safe life.”
“My life’s never been like this; never happy and quiet enough,” Mason said, suddenly feeling calm and in control; maybe that was because Elena was sad rather than frantic. “But why add to the misfortunes of life?”
“Why, indeed,” Elena echoed softly. She paused. “You’re not drinking anything, Mason.”
“No. I do not want to.”
“Do you know the Indian who’d been torturing you was working for me?” Elena said assessing the light color of the champagne against the candle light.
There was a silence. “I suspected it could have been this way,” Mason said quietly, at last.
“And that he reported to me every day if you had signed the papers, and what he had done to you, and what he was planning to do to you?”
“I – I’m not sure,” Mason mastered.
“Want a proof?”
She took out a sheet of paper – a will signed by Mason Capwell. According to this paper, all his belongings were to be inherited by ‘his sister Elena.’
Mason looked at the paper carefully. He had never seen it; but he had not seen the papers he was signing when they finally made him do it. For all he could tell, the signature was really his hand.
“It’s not a fake, Mason,” said Elena with a smile.
“But you did not carry your plan out,” said he handing her the paper. “Not till the end.”
“No. You hate me?”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m aghast this could have been planned and done by my own sister, and it hurts me to think of it. I do not hate you,” Mason said.
It was a strange talk, he thought. A starry night, a romantically decorated yacht, these candles, and this quiet talk about hair-raising things between brother and sister. Life was strange.
“Life – gets – too complicated at times,” Elena said thoughtfully.
“I think you need help, Elena. Let me help you.”
“The way you helped your [i] other [/i] sister when you got her into Dr Rawlings’ clinic?” Her lips curved; it made her not so beautiful.
“It’s not fair, Elena,” Mason reproached her gently. He knew too well what she was doing, just because it was something he always did: snapping out when someone got too close.
“Have a drink with me. It’s not poisoned, I swear.”
“You know I have a drinking problem. I do not want to drink away everything that matters to me.”
“I hate you, Mason,” said Elena, almost helplessly. “I hate you, and Eden, and Kelly. I hate Jeffrey, and I hate Ted. I hate Sophia, and Cruz, and all of you Capwells.”
“What about Mother and Father?” Mason asked cautiously.
“I hate them – as much as I love them.”
“Sounds familiar,” Mason smirked.
“I hate you, Mason.”
“Okay; do.”
“I hate you.”
“I don’t hate you back.”
He was looking at her, in this strange dim light the candles gave, and wondered how alike they were; he saw a distorted copy of himself, of what he could have become if he had let hate, not love, prevailed in him.
TBC
Chapter 17
“I hate you, because looking at you I see what I could have been,” Elena said.
It was not the first time she seemed to read his thoughts, or he, hers, but this time it really startled Mason.
“Elena, but I’ve got a lot of trouble living with myself,” he said earnestly.
“Sounds familiar,” she mimicked him.
“I’m sure it does; but I’m trying to create not to destroy.”
She frowned.
“Your money – makes everything possible – but for one little thing. You cannot bring back the dead. You can’t bring your Mary back.”
“And you’re happy for this?”
She did not reply.
“I can’t,” Mason agreed. “But I’ve got Matthew, the baby we created together with Mary. Do you want a baby, Elena?”
“The baby you deceive yourself is your own while it’s Mary’s rapist’s flesh and blood?”
“…You won’t make me angry now, Elena,” Mason said. “A baby – Elena, think of it, you can have your own baby, or babies. You can forgive our parents for what they’ve done to you, and live on. Just think of it. A new page in life, a new chance. A little girl or boy of your own, that looks like you and you’ll never ever let anyone hurt her – or him--”
“Stop it.” She sprang up. “Oh stop it: you said you did NOT hate me.”
Mason fell silent.
“I sent my Indian to plant explosives onto Kelly’s car,” Elena said in a while.
“Oh. Did you really?”
“Yes, I did. I swear I did.”
“Is there a phone here, or something I can use to warn her?” said Mason getting to his feet.
“No, Mason. No, no, no.”
“Let me try to find something, though,” he said and left the cabin.
The ocean air was so fresh, as compared to the candle mist of the cabin. The yacht was far out in the ocean, and little could be seen around. Mason searched the machinery, swearing himself under his breath: who could think he might need to know how to manage a yacht?
What he saw next to the engine looked very much like a time bomb he’d seen in movies.
*
Mason was standing staring down at the brick when he heard Elena’s soft steps behind.
“Explosive?” he asked without turning to face her.
“Yeah. Here as well as there.”
“So, you’re planning suicide with me for company.”
“It’s a pity I won’t be there to see who Daddy mourns more, Kelly the kitten or you the prodigal son.”
“And you want Mother to lose all her three children at once.”
“She won’t notice.”
Mason shuddered. “Elena,” he said, and this time he turned to see her eyes. “What are you doing?”
She shrugged her shoulders: an elegant, sophisticated lady, so beautiful in the moonlight. “I – don’t know. I’ve been so lonely my whole life; I don’t want to be lonely on my last journey.”
Mason just did not know what to say to this.
*
“I don’t want to tell Julia; is it understood?” Pearl said. “She’d be terrified.”
“But Pearl--” Jeffrey argued.
The Indian was arrested and locked up; the car, demined. It was past midnight, the ‘Juno’ was far from the shore, and there was no Mason to be found anywhere in Santa Barbara, even in bars.
“But Pearl,” Jeffrey said. “Don’t you think Julia’s worried? Don’t you think she has the right to know? Don’t you--”
“JUST BECAUSE she would be worried and terrified if she learnt, and she is pregnant, and I should have known before, and I don’t have the slightest idea what I can tell her now!” Pearl shouted. “Let her think he’s gotten drunk again. Let’s play for time.”
“Take a boat and follow the ‘Juno’?” Jeffrey suggested.
“Right – at night and she could be anywhere by this hour.”
But the idea was not so absurd, Pearl thought; he’d only need a good pilot.
*
It was dark and lonely. Matt was asleep. Julia was looking at the fire she’d made. There was no Mason.
She would not be running from one bar to another looking for him. No. She was too angry, and her hands were trembling as she threw a shawl around her shoulders.
The night was scary. Something was telling Julia she should be very grateful and happy if all this was about was a drunk Mason.
TBC
Olga Lissenkova
