Linked (The Guardian Series), page 3
With a look that told me he was finally satisfied with my response, he let go of my arm just as a flash of pain crossed his face. “A couple reasons. First, if everyone is paranoid that you might overhear their conversations, they might shy away from your touch. That could be especially bad if they need you to heal them. Second, I don’t want word reaching the Council of Senior Guardians.”
“The what?”
He sighed. “Every circle has a Senior Guardian, and at least twice a year the Council of Senior Guardians meet. They discuss a variety of issues – anything from new developments in their region, to reports on Ray-pac activities, or any unusual or unique abilities among the members of the Circles.” He paused and glanced at me.
“So?” I mumbled.
“Well, as a whole group they make a lot of influential decisions. Decisions that must be adhered to and that can be applied to anyone in the Network. For example, if the Senior Council thinks it would be beneficial to remove a Guardian from one Circle and place them in another, then they can do that. Or, if they feel a link between two certain Guardians would be advantageous, they can demand one of the Guardians pack-up and join a new Circle to make that happen.” He looked at me uneasily. “I just don’t want any unnecessary attention drawn towards you. Once you are placed under their scrutiny, who knows what kinds of decisions might be made. Does that make sense?”
I smiled. “Sort of. Sounds like you’re trying to protect me. Again”
“I am, and I always will,” he said firmly. “But you’re not very good at following directions.” He shook his head and frowned. “After your fight with Melanie, you were supposed to go and get in the creek. But oh no! Instead you decided to come back and take on the Ray-pacs.”
Choosing to ignore that comment, I said, “Speaking of the Ray-pacs, do they have any other weaknesses besides when they are in or near water?”
He sighed. “Just one that we know of, and one that we also share with them. None of us react well to orchids. For some reason, that variety of flower makes us nauseous, and if we get too close and inhale any of the pollen, paralysis sets in. Usually lasts around 20 minutes and then wears off again.”
“Oh that’s just totally weird,” I said as a small speed boat zipped past. It crashed over the waves, causing the passengers to bounce in their seats. “So, who is the Senior Guardian of the Bellingham Circle?” I asked.
He was quiet for awhile, and I thought maybe he wasn’t going to respond. But then he finally spoke up. “My dad.”
I almost toppled over the front fly bridge. “What? So, you’re planning on keeping things about me from your dad?”
“As much as I hate to, yes.”
“Are you sure you’ve thought through this?” I cracked my knuckles.
“As you know, I think everything through and always consider the consequences,” he said impatiently.
With a shrug and thumbs up sign, I walked over to the port side of the bridge and muttered under my breath, “That you do.” The sun glistened brightly off the waves, and I wished I had my sunglasses.
“Will you tell me more about your family and your Grandma’s journals?” he asked.
Figuring it was my turn to share, I nodded. He listened as I talked openly about what I’d read in Grandma Rose’s diary. I also shared more stories about my immediate family and growing up in Tacoma. Time always passed quickly when I was with him, and conversation came easily.
After a bit he pointed ahead of us. “That’s Cypress Island. Lots of Douglas Firs and Rocky Mountain Juniper, otherwise known as cypress.” There’s a huge lake in the middle of the island, and I’ve seen an occasional deer or fox meandering the beaches.”
“Doesn’t look lived on,” I commented.
“Yeah, it’s about 5500 acres – 90 percent undeveloped, which makes it one of the least developed islands in the San Juan’s. No easy access since it’s not on the main ferry route, either. A system of trails and freestyle camping makes it popular with the kayakers, but other than that, not a lot of visitors. Those are the many reasons that make Cypress a great neighboring island for the Retreat. If you know what I mean?” He looked at my sideways.
“Privacy,” I said thoughtfully.
“The much smaller Sinclair Island over to your right is mostly privately owned with only a handful of residents. There’s a 45 foot public dock on the East shore, but it’s not a popular destination among tourists either.”
My eyes darted back and forth between the two islands searching for any traces of humanity, but I couldn’t find any – only vibrant green wilderness. Scouring the rocky beach line and steep terrain, I was disappointed not to spot any wildlife as we cruised by. We passed the islands and continued north away from the tip of Cypress.
After awhile Jason pointed off in the distance at a much smaller island and pronounced, “Towhead Island. Your home, and mine, for the next week – and anytime you need it to be from this day forward.”
My heart pounded with excitement as we drew closer to Towhead. The realization that we would be on our own private island was finally dawning on me, and my anticipation for adventure and solitude was building. I needed this week of isolation away from the real world. For a short time, I wanted to forget about my life and my future and live in the moment. I snuck a glance at Jason and admired his tall, masculine build…I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather do that with than him.
As we pulled closer to Towhead’s long dock, I noticed several light-colored, dome-shaped buildings scattered around the island, nestled behind green foliage and under evergreen trees.
“What are those strange little bubbles hidden in the woods?” I asked curiously.
He gave me a funny look. “You’ve grown up in the Pacific Northwest and you don’t know what a yurt looks like?”
“Ohh, of course,” I said and slapped my forehead. “Weather tight and spacious, their circular structure, wooden frame, and durable fabric cover make them much stronger than tents.”
“Umm…” he said raising one eyebrow, “sounds like you just read that straight out of a book.”
Heat rose to my cheeks, and I felt compelled to defend myself. “Sorry if I read a lot. And for your information, certain things just stick with me, kind of like selective photographic memory.”
“Whoa! I wasn’t trying to slam you.” He held his hands in the air defensively. “I thought it was a great description. You’re just so different.”I raised my eyebrows. “In a good way.”
I gave him a funny look and turned to study Towhead. “Well, I do know yurts are hot commodities at campgrounds. I’m not sure how I’ve never seen one until now.”
“There are several around the island. It’s awesome because they are all eco-friendly and use solar power. Each one can sleep up to eight.”
As we moored the boat, he told me the reasons behind having so many yurts on the island. Apparently, there were huge gatherings of Guardians that took place in different cities all during the year. At those get-togethers, they shared news and discussed official Guardian business, but more importantly, they offered a way for the younger generations of Guardians to make connections, socialize, and possibly meet a future mate. Not only was this Retreat set up as a safe haven, but it also hosted gatherings on a regular basis. The remote location and ability to house large numbers of people made it ideal for both purposes.
When we stepped onto the dock, Jason grabbed my suitcases. “Hey, where did you get those?” I asked astonished.
“Got them from Max this morning when he picked up Jessica and Laci at the Harbor.”
As I slipped on my backpack, I turned slightly and read the name on our boat. I gasped loudly when I saw ALEXANDRIA written in big fancy letters across the back of the yacht. Looking at Jason in disbelief, I muttered something unintelligible.
He blushed. “I didn’t name her, but it fits. I’m sure you know the etymology behind your own name.” As I nodded, he turned and motioned for me to follow him down the dock.
Weird! Coincidence or fate?
From the dock we followed a winding, gravel path that twisted through a forest of Douglas Firs, red cedars, and a few big leaf maples. The trail hadn’t been visible from down below, and as we walked it offered occasional peek-a-boo views of the ocean and distant islands. Streams of sunlight flashed across our path, and a chipmunk chirped endlessly inside the brush.
Amazed, I listened as Jason described all the modern, outdoor conveniences that had been added to the island: a half mile gravel loop for jogs or walks, an open-air matted area for practicing martial arts, a couple of huge, ten person hot tubs, and a great outdoor living space with BBQ’s and fire pits. Sounded like the only thing missing was a swimming pool. I decided the surrounding ocean would have to suffice.
Keeping a brisk pace along the trail, Jason prepared me for what to expect on the inside of the Retreat. With every word of his description my jaw dropped a little further to the ground. With its fifteen bedrooms and nine bathrooms, it was completely decked out for lodging and entertainment. A list of amenities included a game room, home theatre room, fitness area, small library, and a meeting room.
After a short elevation climb we stepped out of the forest and into a flat clearing. Directly in front of us loomed an enormous rustic lodge. Sitting semi-circle and wrapping backwards in an arc, the three-story home was straight out of an architectural design magazine. The rough cut timbers and stone columns brought out the home’s natural elegance while the huge windows, expansive cedar decks, and dramatic roofline contributed to its undeniable grandeur. The landscaping consisted mostly of dry rock creeks and flower beds. Low native shrubs, ferns, and small hemlock trees were interspersed with large boulders that rose tall among the plants. Easily maintained and simple but stately.
“Wow!” was all I managed to choke out as we walked through the ten foot front doors and stepped into an absolutely colossal room. The open space was a few stories high, and the domed ceiling was architecturally fascinating with large wooden beams coming together and meeting in the center. Even more amazing, were the two upper balconies which wrapped a full 360 degrees around the perimeter. Looking up, I felt like I was in the lobby of a grand hotel. I almost expected to see people appear at the railings and wave.
“Pretty awesome, huh?” Jason said craning his neck upwards. “There’s five bedrooms and two bathrooms on each of the upper floors. Those large wrap around areas offer a full view of the main floor and gives us lots of space for Guardians to gather around and listen when we have a whole group meeting. Other times they’re used as dance floors. Each level also opens up to expansive decks on the front and back sides of the house. The two hot tubs are located out on the back deck of the third floor, and the sunsets from there are incredible.”
“Insanely awesome,” I said, still gawking.
“Yeah, you’ll have to explore all the bedrooms, because my mom and Mrs. Nelson decorated each one with a different theme.”
“I’ll do that.” Lowering my head, I scanned the room before me. Deep red, Brazilian Walnut floors led my eyes to a huge gathering place directly in the center of the room. Large, dark green sofas, the kind you can sink into with a good book for hours on end, were intermixed with roomy, burgundy chairs. Patterned Persian rugs under the glass coffee tables softened the space.
Drawing my eye even further into the room and pulling the whole area together was a massive river rock fireplace. Sitting against the back wall, the stones stretched upwards about fifteen feet and then disappeared under the second floor above. On either sides of the fireplace were large windows and sliding glass doors that led to an outdoor patio.
“That,” Jason said, his arm sweeping to our left, “is every chef’s dream.” He took a few steps and motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen, which was completely open to the rest of the room. There was an extensive, u-shaped bar with a total of 15 barstools, five sitting under each of the three sections. On the kitchen side of the black granite bars were two, eight-burner gas stove tops, and in the center was a deep sink with dishwashers placed strategically on either side. There was even more counter space, a second sink and tons of cherry cabinets along the wall behind us. Two over-sized, stainless steel refrigerators rounded out the kitchen.
“This is all so amazing,” I said with disbelief. Pointing to our right, I said, “That is one extreme dining table, too. Those pine benches go on forever and it looks like they could easily seat 20 people on each side. Does all this belong to Jessica’s family?”
He laughed and said, “I forget how overwhelming it is the first time you see it. It feels like you’re trespassing on the grounds of the rich and famous.” He slapped the granite countertop. “The island is owned by the Nelsons, but the Retreat and other amenities are kind of like community property between the Guardians of the Bellingham Circle.”
“Well, somebody’s got buku bucks,” I commented as my eyes wandered to a cozy little area off to the left corner of the room. A couple cream couches, a big, flat screen T.V. and some other multi-media equipment crowded that space. A grand piano sat nestled in the very far, right corner of the room. Lush green, indoor house plants and numerous candles brought a warm, country feel to the first floor.
Clicking his tongue, he said, “There is some individual wealth, but we also have certain protocols we follow which brings in money occasionally.”
“Huh?”
“Like if we ever profit in any way from our premonitions, we contribute that money towards the Guardian fund, much of which goes to the Retreat.”
“How would you profit?” I asked with confusion.
“Different ways. Occasionally a vision leads to solving a case or finding a missing person in which there was a monetary reward.”
“Oh,” I said, still rather mystified.
“Down that hallway past the dining table is where you’ll find the library, home theatre, work-out, and game rooms. But down this one,” he pointed just past the kitchen, “is where we have the other five guest rooms. The ones we reserve for the Bellingham folks when we have large gatherings.” He grabbed my suitcase, and I followed him down the corridor.
“Most of these rooms have several bunks and will sleep large numbers of people. Here’s the closest bathroom,” he said and stopped to flip on a light switch, revealing a good-sized room with double sinks. “But your room has its own, so no worries.” He continued on a short distance and stopped again. “This bedroom here on the right is where you’ll be staying.” As he swung open the door, he pointed down the hall and said, “I’ll be two doors down on the right if you ever need anything.”
Yeah right, like you as my midnight snack I thought. “Okay,” I said, suppressing a smile and following him and my suitcase into the bedroom. Turning abruptly, he bumped into me. “Oops, sorry.”
Standing only inches apart, and gazing into his incredible eyes, I felt the urge to trace the long scratch on his cheek. “No problem.” Gently, I reached up and touched the red mark. His cheek was a bit prickly, because he hadn’t shaved. His breathing hitched, and he looked at me guardedly. Blood coursed through my veins, warming my whole body. Logic reminded me a relationship with him was impossible, but my heart beat faster, and desire egged me on. I’d promised myself to live in the moment, at least for this week. And at this precise moment I felt very alive.
Up this close, the scratches along his jawbone and the awful gash on his neck loomed before me. But his lips looked soft and inviting, and I wondered if it would hurt him if my lips touched his. He must have read my mind, because I watched his gaze travel down my face and stop on my mouth. Clearly, he wasn’t going to make a move, and I couldn’t fight the attraction any longer. I lifted my chin towards his face, and his lips parted. Standing on my tip-toes, I closed my eyes, but at the last possible moment, he cleared his throat and brushed past me. My eyes popped open in time to see him shaking his head.
Practically running towards the door, he said sharply, “This can’t happen.” His hand brushed his lips. “You should unpack and explore the house. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’m sure you’re probably getting hungry. Besides, I’ve got some things to check on.” With that he closed the door and was gone.
Probably getting hungry? I buried my face in my hands and shook my head. This was one appetite that nothing in the kitchen was gonna satisfy.
CHAPTER 3 – MORE ANSWERS
Grinding my teeth, I leaned against the footboard of the gigantic bed and steadied myself. I slammed my foot into the floor. Damn he was so infuriating! Not to mention impossible to understand. After a little self-psychotherapy, I pulled myself together and pushed off from the bed. In need of a little cheer, I opened the blinds and relished in the warmth that seeped into the room. Beyond the slider was a nice outdoor living area with gorgeous western views of the ocean and outlying islands.
Sunlight flooded the bedroom, highlighting the oak, antique furniture. Two queen sized sleigh beds with headboards that stretched almost to the ceiling were placed on adjacent walls to each other. The footboard I’d been leaning against rose about three feet above the mattress as well. I’d never seen anything like them before. They were magnificent, as were the matching antique, oak vanities and dressers. Beautiful hand-stitched quilts covered the beds and layered a quilt rack. The walnut colored walls held several framed pictures of real pressed flowers like pansies, irises, and clematis. One, a huge, yellow Gerbera daisy was truly spectacular.
Considering I felt like I’d stepped back into the Victorian era, I felt strangely at home. I busied myself unpacking, and shortly thereafter, shoved my suitcase into the closet. After setting my iPod and a couple books on the nightstand, I texted Ally and let her know I’d be at the Nelson Retreat for the rest of the week. She still didn’t know a thing about the hike, which was good. No reason for her to worry during the next several days.
I decided to take Jason’s advice and tour the house. The rooms just down the hall from mine were all tastefully done in different themes: Mediterranean, Tuscan, and nautical. I found Jason’s things in the Tuscan-themed room, where oddly enough, I could almost smell the grapevines of an Italian vineyard. He was nowhere to be seen, and since my stomach was growling, I decided it was time to explore the kitchen.
