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Impulse

(1989)

A novel by

Nora Roberts

Summer

Four years ago this month, I was married. When my soon-to-be husband and I were

discussing plans for our honeymoon, there was one place that kept coming to my mind.

Greece. For as long as I can remember, I‟ve dreamed of going to Greece, cruising

the Aegean, imagining Adonis and Apollo and Aphrodite. I could picture myself walking

near the Acropolis or sitting in a seaside café drinking ouzo. I wanted to walk in an olive

grove and see wild goats. To me, Greece has always been one of the most romantic

and exotic places in the world.

Well, things didn‟t work out. For the life of me, I can‟t exactly recall the reasons we

changed our plans and headed to the resorts of Cancun and Cozumel on the Caribbean

coast of Mexico. But it was all for the best. Right after we made our new plans, ordered

tickets and reserved a hotel, the TWA flight out of Athens was hijacked.

We did have a wonderful time in Mexico. Blue water, gorgeous flowers, exotic music.

Instead of Greek gods, I imagined ancient Mayans. We didn‟t cruise the Aegean, but we

snorkeled in the warm, clear Caribbean. I don‟t remember a single day when the sun

didn‟t shine and the birds didn‟t sing. Of course, I was on my honeymoon.

We listened to mariachis and danced in the moonlight in the square in the village.

We toured the ruins in Tulum, then swam in a lagoon called X-ha. That‟s where my new

husband lost the keys to our rental car.

You don‟t always think of yourself as a foreigner, even in a foreign country, until

you‟re faced with the language barrier. I could ask important things, like “How much

does this cost?” and “Where‟s the rest room?” But I didn‟t have a clue how to explain

that we‟d lost the keys to our car somewhere in the lagoon and our hotel was an hour

away.

But, like a true hero, my husband dived back in. The sunscreen had worn off and

lunch was only a fond memory when he found them. But find them he did. I guess the

gods look out for honeymooners.

Four years later and he‟s still my hero. From time to time we toy with the idea of

that trip to Greece. I still hope to see Mount Olympus and walk in an olive grove. In the

meantime, I went there in my imagination with Rebecca and Stephen. I hope you enjoy

the trip as much as I did.

Chapter One

She knew it was crazy. That was what she liked best about it. It was crazy,

ridiculous, impractical and totally out of character. And she was having the time of her

life. From the balcony of her hotel suite Rebecca could see the sweep of the beach, the

glorious blue of the Ionian Sea, blushed now with streaks of rose from the setting sun.

Corfu. Even the name sounded mysterious, exciting, glamorous. And she was here,

really here. Practical, steady-as-a-rock Rebecca Malone, who had never traveled more

than five hundred miles from Philadelphia, was in Greece. Not just in Greece, she

thought with a grin, but on the exotic island of Corfu, in one of the most exclusive

resorts in Europe.

First-class, she thought as she leaned out to let the sweet breeze ruffle over her

face. As long as it lasted, she was going first-class.

Her boss had thought she was suffering from temporary insanity. Edwin McDowell of

McDowell, Jableki and Kline was never going to understand why a promising young CPA

would resign from her position with one of the top accounting firms in Philadelphia.

She‟d made a good salary, she‟d enjoyed excellent benefits, and she‟d even had a small

window in her office.

Friends and associates had wondered if she‟d suffered a breakdown. After all, it

wasn‟t normal, and it certainly wasn‟t Rebecca‟s style to quit a solid, well-paying job

without the promise of a better one.

But she‟d given her two weeks‟ notice, cleared out her desk and had cheerfully

walked out into the world of the unemployed.

When she‟d sold her condo and then in one frantic week, auctioned off every

possession she ownedevery stick of furniture, every pot and pan and appliance

they‟d been certain she‟d gone over the edge.

Rebecca had never felt saner.

She owned nothing that didn‟t fit in a suitcase. She no longer had any tax-deferred

investments or retirement plans. She‟d cashed in her certificates of deposit, and the

home entertainment center she‟d thought she couldn‟t live without was now gracing

someone else‟s home.

It had been more than six weeks since she‟d even looked at an adding machine.

For the firstand perhaps the onlytime in her life, she was totally free. There

were no responsibilities, no pressures, no hurried gulps of cold coffee. She hadn‟t

packed an alarm clock. She no longer owned one. Crazy? No. Rebecca shook her head

and laughed into the breeze. For as long as it lasted, she was going to grab life with

both hands and see what it had to offer.

Aunt Jeannie‟s death had been her turning point. It had come so suddenly, so

unexpectedly, leaving Rebecca without any family. Aunt Jeannie had worked hard for

most of her sixty-five years, always punctual, always responsible. Her position as head

librarian had been her whole life. She‟d never missed a day, never failed to do her duty.

Her bills had been paid on time. Her promises had always been kept.

More than once Rebecca had been told she took after her mother‟s older sister. She

was twenty-four, but she washad beenas solid and sturdy as her maiden aunt. Two

months into retirement, two months after dear Aunt Jeannie began to make plans to

travel, to enjoy the rewards she‟d worked so hard to earn, she was gone.

After Rebecca‟s grief had come the anger, then the frustration, then slowly, the

realization that she was traveling the same straight road. She worked, she slept, she

fixed well-balanced meals that she ate alone. She had a small circle of friends who

knew she could be counted on in a crisis. Rebecca would always find the best and most

practical answer. Rebecca would never drop her own problems in your lapbecause

she didn‟t have any. Rebecca, bless her, was a port in any storm.

She hated it, and she‟d begun to hate herself. She had to do something.

And she was doing it.

It wasn‟t running away as much as it was breaking free. All her life she‟d done what

was expected of her and tried to make as few waves as possible while doing it. All

through school a crushing shyness had kept her more comfortable with her books than

with other teenagers. In college a need to succeed and justify her aunt‟s faith had

locked her tightly into her studies.

She had always been good with figureslogical, thorough, patient. It had been

easy, perhaps too easy, to pour herself into that one area, because there, and really

only there, had she felt confident.

Now she was going to discover Rebecca Malone. In the weeks or months of freedom

she had, she wanted to learn everything there was to know about the woman within.

Perhaps there wasn‟t a butterfly inside the cocoon she‟d wrapped herself in so

comfortably, but whatever she foundwhoever she foundRebecca hoped she would

enjoy her, like her, perhaps even respect her.

When the money ran out, she‟d get another job and go back to being plain, practical

Rebecca. Until that time she was rich, rootless and ready for surprises.

She was also hungry.

Stephen saw her the moment she entered the restaurant. It wasn‟t that she was

particularly striking. Beautiful women passed through the world every day and they

usually warranted a glance. But there was something about the way this one walked, as

if she were ready for anything, even looking forward to it. He stopped, and because

business was slow at this hour he took a second, longer look.

She was tall for a woman, and more angular than slender. Her skin was pale, and

that made him think she had only just arrived at the resort or was shy of the sun. The

white sundress that left her shoulders and back bare accented the lack of color and

gave dramatic contrast to her short cap of raven hair.

Nora Roberts - Impulse.pdf

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