Intimate Betrayal. Donna Hill

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СКАЧАТЬ my mother, she must tend to my happiness—whatever she decides that may be.” He chuckled. “I’m quite sure she made certain me and you would be sitting together on this flight, while she sat back there,” he added, hitching his thumb over his left shoulder.

      Reese twisted in her seat and looked over the heads behind her. She spotted Carmen peeking at her from above the top of a magazine. Reese grinned and Carmen gave her a thumbs-up sign.

      “Has Carmen always had a penchant for organizing your personal life?” Reese questioned, settling down into her seat.

      “She tries damned hard.” He chortled. “Most of the time she’s right.”

      “Do you generally take her advice?”

      For a brief moment a dark shadow seemed to pass across his features. Carmen had warned him about Victoria early in their relationship. He hadn’t listened. “For the most part.”

      Reese quickly sensed that there was more to the clipped statement, but would not press the point. There were so many things about Maxwell Knight that she wanted to discover, but her writer’s instinct and her female intuition reminded her it would be a very difficult road indeed.

      James Knight climbed the stairs to the attic of his two-story home. After receiving a large cash compensation from the military during his service, he’d had the house built. It was the house he’d tried to raise his son, Max, in. Instead, it was the house that he’d watched his life and his marriage crumble in. Beautiful on the outside with a wide front enclosed porch reminiscent of the plantations of the south, whitewashed with tall stately pillars and a perfectly manicured front and back lawn.

      His wife, Claudia, had spent innumerable hours finding just the right fabric, piece of furniture, work of art. The house on Pinecroft Court was a palace, but it was never a home. She’d tried—Lord knows she’d tried, but there was always a shadow that hovered between them. It was there waiting for him when he’d returned from Japan.

      Pushing open the attic door, he pulled a key from his pants pocket, crossed the small crawl space, and used the key to open an old footlocker.

      From within he pulled out a gray metal box filled with yellowed paper, photographs, and signed documents.

      James’s warm brown eyes clouded over. For more than fifteen years, what had been done had remained sealed away in his attic and in the “eyes only” files of the military.

      But governments change. Policy and administrations change. His son was being interviewed by one of the most renowned publications in the country. Everything would slowly begin to unravel. He knew it as sure as he knew it would rain by the aches in his knees.

      He pulled out a faded picture of a beautiful young geisha, Sukihara—Suki, whom he’d loved like no other. How different would his life have been if he’d remained in Tokyo…?

      Tokyo, April 1960

      The month of April is one of the busiest times in the geisha quarters. In the evenings, the teahouses and restaurants where the geishas—or artistic persons—entertain, are crowded with guests from surrounding cities who have journeyed to Tokyo for the cherry blossoms and the geisha dance festival.

      It was late one April evening when James and his army buddy Larry Templeton, who’d been stationed in Tokyo for two months, decided to venture out and see what all the mystery was surrounding the geishas. Since being stationed in Tokyo, they had seen no more than their barracks and their immediate area. They felt totally isolated. Not only was there the language and cultural barriers to deal with, they were the only two black men they’d seen since their arrival. They started off with two strikes against them; they were the American military in a foreign country and they were black—the lowest men on the totem pole no matter where they went.

      “Whaddaya want to do tonight?” Larry asked, lacing up his regulation boots.

      James chuckled in his deep robust voice. “How many choices do we have, man? It’s not like we’re the most welcomed folks in town.”

      “I guess you’re right. But it’s Friday. We have the whole weekend off. There ought to be something.”

      James shrugged his wide shoulders. His dark brown eyes slowly lit up. “How about checking out one of those teahouses I’ve always heard about?”

      “Hey, why not? How do we get there?”

      James sat down on the edge of his single bed and pulled out a slim map from the drawer.

      “From what I’ve been hearing the really good ones are in Kyoto.” He unfolded the map and spread it out on the bed. Both young men hovered over the finely drawn lines. James stuck out his index finger and traced a path.

      “It’s a good half-hour drive,” Larry said, straightening up.

      “You have something better to do?”

      “Very funny. Let’s go while the night is still young.”

      They drove for nearly an hour.

      “You sure you know where you’re going?” Larry taunted.

      “It can’t be too much farther. As a matter of fact, good buddy, there’s the Kamo River now. I do believe we have arrived.” James grinned and pointed to the elaborate structure that was pinpointed by brightly lit lanterns, the only illumination for miles around—giving the entire scene a picture postcard feel.

      “Hot damn,” Larry exclaimed. “I’m finally gonna meet me a real-life geisha. Wait till I tell the boys back home.” He slapped his thigh and hopped out of the jeep.

      When James and Larry entered the teahouse, it was like nothing they’d anticipated. Although they received cold or indifferent looks from the Japanese and white men who were ensconced in various locations of the establishment, it was the role of the geisha to welcome and entertain every man who crossed the threshold. And they did—from singing and dancing to pouring their sake.

      All of the preconceived notions about geishas being no more than high-priced prostitutes were soon erased. These were pampered, talented, beautiful, sexy women, who because of the Japanese culture, were a necessary way of life. Wives, on the other hand, were subdued, obedient, and anything but sexy. They were everything that a geisha was not.

      James slowly relaxed and began to truly enjoy the performances and the pampering, but his breath stopped in his chest when a young, beautiful girl, dressed in an elaborate costume of brilliant red and gold, took center stage. Her name was Sukihara, the petite, exotic nymph who’d changed his life.

      Far off, James heard the ringing of the phone. With reluctance be returned the photos to the box and placed the box back in the footlocker.

      Quickly he ran down the short flight of steps and answered the phone that sat in the foyer of the top floor.

      Returning from her part-time job at the local library, and unaware that her husband was at home, Claudia picked up the extension on the ground floor. When she heard her husband’s voice she intended to hang up until she heard the voice of the caller.

      “Hello?”

      “Colonel Knight?”

      “Yes, speaking.”

      “This СКАЧАТЬ