Rite of Passage (3 page)

She’d fallen in love with the estate and her surroundings. And America’s grandeur and plenty awed her. Parts of Britain and much of Europe lay in ruins—plagued by shortages of everything from cigarettes to petrol. Once prosperous centers of commerce and art resembled skeletons.

Simon Phillips, Courtney’s grandfather and teacher, had taken her to the Continent to see the devastation firsthand. Simon had a reason behind that journey. “After you and your mate are joined on the night of the solstice, this will never happen again,” he promised her. “Traditional warfare is tragic enough. But the new threat—the use of atomic power as a weapon—must be feared most. Humans wield it like a child does a sharp stick. We will use our powers to see it’s controlled.” No one need give Courtney pep talks. She knew the import of her task.

Before walking to the ritual site, Courtney had fasted and taken a ritual bath with the spices used for purification. Beginning her meditation, she consecrated and charged her sacred tools. Next, she defined the boundaries of the ritual circle using her athame, her witch’s knife. After cleansing the sacred space, Courtney drew forth symbols of the elements: air, fire, water, and earth. Then she called on the spirit. Her small altar stood in the north of the circle. All her sacred implements were in the proper place.

After lighting the candles, she began, calling on the deity, opening her mind to the goddess’s guidance and wisdom.
Focus on your destiny
. The message was clear. But her task was proving more difficult than she’d imagined. Why was Robert so kind, so charming, so beautiful. So much more than the simple vessel she’d envisioned.

Emerging from her trance, Courtney extinguished the candles, took her athame, and walked widdershins, counterclockwise, to take down the witch’s circle. Replacing the ritual objects in her paisley satchel, she donned her robe and walked back to her room. The next act was about to begin.

Courtney sat at her window, watching the courtyard and waiting. Cepheus jumped onto the windowsill, purring loudly. “It’s all right, Cephy. I’m ready,” she assured her four-footed companion. But Courtney wasn’t fine. Not at all. Her stomach growled as she twirled her hair on her finger. The enormous black cat, who’d been one of her familiars, tilted his head. He studied her, meowing loudly. He sensed her conflict.

“I told you,
I’m fine
,” she said through tight lips. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy.” Courtney continued playing with her hair. Her emptiness had nothing to do with hunger. Courtney closed her eyes and breathed deeply as she remembered his touch and the heady sensation it sent through her.

She recalled seeing him at the pool that afternoon. Courtney pictured his bathing suit hugging his lean body. Robert was tall, wiry, a delight to watch. His muscles were tight but subtle, like coiled vipers ready to strike. Courtney wondered how his arms would feel when they surrounded her. The thick dark hair, his strong, cleft chin, and the gray-blue eyes that recalled the sky on a winter’s day sent shivers through her. Despite their steely look, those translucent orbs had softened, showing warmth and kindness when he spoke to her. Courtney shuddered. Her face burned from the fire within.

She opened her eyes, staring at the moon. Seven days until the ritual. What would he say when he knew the truth? How could she have known what it would be like to be close to him, how his life force would flow between them? And what about his relationship with this woman? No one had told Courtney about the girl. Should she care? Perhaps not but she could not help herself. She did.

Cassiopeia joined them, rubbing against Courtney’s leg, adding her feline voice to the mix. “Yes, I know. He’s coming,” she told them. While Courtney’s soul had migrated through many lifetimes, part of her was simply a young woman. That part was intensely attracted to Robert McGregor.

But years of preparation could not be wasted. She’d play her role to perfection. Courtney lit her jasmine incense, turned north, then east. Closing her eyes, she chanted a blessing in an ancient Welsh tongue.

Footsteps echoed in the courtyard. Courtney opened her eyes, extinguishing the incense. Regardless of what passions Robert awakened in her, Courtney had a destiny. She sighed, watching him approach, knowing it must be fulfilled.

Chapter Three

Threading my way between the chaise lounges surrounding the courtyard, I replayed my conversation with Jonathan. I stopped, looking up at the brilliant display of stars.

A voice echoed from the main house. Her voice—soft and elegant. I could never forget it. I scanned the empty courtyard and surrounding windows. All were dark and closed except—

“Hello, Robert. Up here.” She stood, silhouetted in her window, her white nightdress lustrous. She waved, my exquisite Juliet, her smile reflecting the moonlight.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she asked, searching the heavens.

“Never,” I answered, imagining her face.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed,” I told her. “It’s late.”

“Can you wait a minute?”

I should have said no. But before I could find my voice, she stood in front of me, flanked by two large, majestic cats, wrapping themselves around her supple legs.

“Hello.” She found my eyes in the moonlight.

She wore a sheer white nightgown. No robe. I tried not to stare, wondering why a well-brought-up young woman would appear that way.

“I’m glad to see you,” I whispered. “You left too soon. I had to put up with the whole group by myself. I needed an ally.”

Her face turned upward, moonlight shimmering off her skin and the dark brown ponytail held in place by a white silk ribbon.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her eyes lingered on mine and narrowed. “I’m not sure Uncle Jonathan is pleased I’m here. I wanted to talk to you, but”—she stopped suddenly—“I had something to attend to.” She blushed and changed the subject. “It must be nice to be in love. Is your intended very pretty?”

“Yes.” I hesitated. “She’s lovely
.
But she’s not really my intended,”
I protested, trying to explain. She refused to let me finish.

“I’m glad.” She nodded, suddenly shivering. She closed her eyes momentarily. I stood, watching, a light breeze playing with her ponytail and the trees. It helped the moonlight make elaborate patterns on the courtyard.

I cleared my throat. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I don’t sleep much,” she confessed. “And I have my companions to take care of.” Courtney paused, bending as she stroked the black cat affectionately. “Cepheus is the black fellow.” She tickled his chin as he purred loudly, winding himself tightly around her ankles. “And Cassiopeia is this lovely white lady.”

Courtney glanced up, then back at me. “I love watching the night sky. Don’t you?” She continued before I could answer. “There’s magic in the stars and the heavens, Robert. You do believe in magic?” A playful smile teased her lips. “I’d spend hours at home, just lying on the grass, looking up at it. I’d pick out the constellations, imagining I was being spirited across the Milky Way by a handsome prince.” Her eyes watched me, then dropped.

“Yes. I believe in magic, Courtney. And your adventure sounds wonderful. Is there room up there for someone else?” I asked.

“There might be.” She stared up at me, curiosity and wonder mixing on her face. “Are you applying for the position?” She came closer, her look a heady blend of innocence and invitation.

She stood too close in her silky nightgown. I found myself watching. With each breath, the sheer bodice outlined her breasts. The soft breeze blew the skirt against her hips and legs.

Don’t do this, Robert
, I warned myself.
This is a fantasy
.
She’s a beauty, but you have someone waiting for you. Don’t tease yourself. You’ll wake up and be sorry.

She saw me staring, immediately covering herself with her arms. “I’m so embarrassed. I should have worn my robe.” She blushed and shook her head. “Growing up in the country makes one careless.”

“Here.” I took my wrinkled dinner jacket and offered it to her.

“Thank you.” She moved closer, taking it and throwing it across her shoulders.

Standing only inches away, the fragrance she wore surrounded us.

“Your perfume. What is it?”

“It’s something special my grandfather gives me. Made from jasmine blossoms. Do you like it?”

The scent was intoxicating. “It’s wonderful. I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

“I’m glad.” She turned, nodding toward a lounge chair. I fell into step, sitting down next to her.

“Gretchen told me about your mother, Courtney, I lost my father this past winter.”

Her soft, warm facade grew dark and tight as she held herself in an embrace, shivering. When she looked up, tears filled her enormous eyes, spilling onto her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have...”

“I don’t want to think about it!” she protested.

“I understand,” I reassured her.

“I can see her lying there,” she continued, burying her face in her hands.

I moved to her side, kneeling by her chair. I took her hand, letting my fingers surround hers. “It’s all right, Courtney. I promise.” I tightened my grasp.

She shared the intimacy briefly, then stood and pulled free. I started after her. She turned, holding up her hand.

“Please don’t.” Her head dropped. She stood mute.

I froze.

“I’m all right,” she whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She began to walk away but stopped suddenly. “Do you ride?” she asked, turning toward me.

“Ride?” I shrugged.

“Yes. You know, ride—horses?”

“I love to. Why?”

“There’s a wonderful stable nearby. And some dazzling scenery. “

And? I wondered. Was it an observation, an idle comment, an invitation? I had no idea. And no idea what Courtney was. But I wanted desperately to find out. Wanted it more than anything I had in a long time, to explore the attraction drawing us toward one another.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” I called, still curious about her “stable” comment.

She nodded, smiling warmly, “Thank you, Robert. I am now.” She snapped her fingers. “Come along.” The grand felines fell into step.

Suddenly, she stopped and turned. Crossing the few yards that separated us, Courtney put her hand around my neck and pulled me toward her. Her fragrance hung between us, her soft breath warm and sweet as she brushed my cheek with her lips. She blushed and retreated, looking back, wearing an expression that showed regret and anticipation.

“Till tomorrow.” She turned slowly

Is this really happening?
I asked myself.

She got to the main house. I watched, spellbound as the entrance swallowed her. I watched, confused and dazed, wishing desperately it was morning.

Chapter Four

I returned to my room, undressed, and took a long, cold shower. I emerged still flushed. The rooms in the guest house had no air conditioners. I pushed the dial on the window fan to its maximum setting. It rattled into action.

I lay down, reliving the evening. Before Courtney entered that dining room, I was perfectly content. I had everything: a girl with beauty and ambition, a law career launched at the Ivy League’s best, elevated social position, and all the other trappings of success. Suddenly, none of that mattered. I
had
been bewitched.

Was this infatuation? When I awoke tomorrow would my fascination with Courtney be gone? Part of me hoped so. Another part desperately wanted it to continue. And Courtney? Was she attracted to me? Had I misread the signs? This was no novel. Could two people meet and be consumed with each other in a single night?

I got into bed and lay, trying to placate my conscience. There was no doubt. Courtney was exquisite and sensitive. But no matter what sensual visions danced through my mind, I needed to follow Jon’s advice and keep myself in check—do exactly what Gretchen asked of me: be a friend to Courtney. Nothing more. Satisfied with my heroic self-control, sometime after three my eyelids drooped. I fell into a fitful sleep.

****

America of 1947 was a contradiction. At least it seemed that way to me. While most of Europe and Asia struggled, slowly rebuilding their economies, infrastructure, and populations, we had escaped destruction, at least at the physical level. But you need only spend time with my brother, Michael, and his fellow veterans to understand that while our structures remained intact, those who had given years of their lives had not. They didn’t congregate and swap robust stories of victory and battle. They had troubled, sleepless nights, keeping a solitary counsel of the horrors they had witnessed. While Michael tried to masquerade it, I’d seen it. Shame dogged me over the injury that had kept me from serving.

The reunion ignored those who had given so much to preserve our way of life. The site rotated. This year the Evanses had the task of hosting aging family members and friends. I came reluctantly when my mother sprained her ankle, knowing that the location would allow me to see Michael.

Since his homecoming, my brother had been sullen and introspective, disappearing for long periods, traveling to unknown destinations. When he returned for our father’s funeral, he informed us he had accepted a teaching position at Dartmouth. This summer he was renovating a ski lodge and insisted I visit. I wanted to see him and witness how he dealt with civilian life after three grueling years in Europe.

The weather had been unusually hot. The weathermen described it as “brutal.” I tumbled from my damp sheets sometime after nine. My sleep had been haunted and restless, filled with strange dreams and visions. I awoke feeling guilty about my fixation on Courtney, especially when I pictured Rachel.

I showered and dressed in light cotton trousers, a polo shirt, and a pair of walking shoes. The dining room was half-empty by the time I appeared. Some had chosen a brisk swim or boating on the lake. Others elected to challenge Point Sebago, the region’s finest golf course. I greeted those still eating, making conversation before heading to the table occupied by my hosts. Whatever the misgivings, I was on a mission. Despite Jonathan’s comments in the billiard room, I was determined to find out more about Courtney, if only to satisfy my curiosity.