by K. A. Hobbs
When Leo comes over, the two of them embrace like old friends and George speaks to him as an equal. I watch with awe and pride as Leo listens intently to what he has to say and replies in his deep, soothing voice, his tone almost lulling me into a daze.
All around us, elders mix with newcomers and newcomers mix with seniors. It’s an eclectic mix of people and I only now begin to fully appreciate how there are people from every walk of life, every race and every religion here.
“George tells me that you’ve made an exceptional impact on your charge, Imogen.” Leo smiles, directing the attention onto me.
“I don’t know about that.” I blush. “But she’s beginning to allow herself to be happy on occasion.”
George scowls at me. “She’s being modest, Leo. Molly has made huge changes to her life thanks to her.”
“Changes I’m sure she would have made eventually on her own,” I throw out.
Leo looks at me and smiles. “I remember her. I’m not entirely sure she would have, Imogen.”
I smile and take a sip of my champagne while I watch the two men exchange a glance I’m not sure about. For a few seconds I’m sure they’re having a conversation entirely without words. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they were.
I spot Franklin making his way over to us and immediately tense. Franklin usually tells me off whenever he sees me, but I can’t remember doing anything wrong lately.
“Ah, Leo, George, are you ready?” he asks them.
“We are if you are,” Leo replies.
I raise one eyebrow in question at George, who hands me his half empty glass. “Leo and I said we’d play for a little while—background music. Do you mind?”
“Can I come with you?” I whisper so Leo doesn’t hear.
“Of course.” He smiles brightly at me.
I follow them over to where two grand pianos sit. George takes a seat behind one while Leo sits behind the other. They both pull up their sleeves a little, and with a subtle nod of their heads, they begin to play.
Both of them are lost to the music instantly, and the attention of everyone in the room is directed towards them. The music swirls and floats around the entire space, changing the mood of the room from somewhat uneasy to joyful within seconds.
I stand and watch George play, completely transfixed by his ability to create such beautiful sounds. His fingers fly across the keys so fast and with such elegance I can’t quite believe he’s real.
As I gaze at him, I decide that if I were to ask any human being what an angel looked like, they would describe him. His face is so handsome and yet so angelic. His grace and poise are not things that can be taught, but rather they’re a part of who he is.
I find myself wondering what his family was like. Did he have a loving mother and father? Did he have siblings he doted on and who adored him? Was he loved and cherished? Did he have every female’s attention? I’m positive he did, and I make a mental note to ask him, to learn about who he was before—before he became who he is now.
As the evening wears on, we enjoy the most delicious dinner with course after course of mouthwatering food and wine. We both have the chance to speak to everyone, and I realise that all newcomers feel like I do. Uncertain of their new lives, they struggle with the same feelings I do and with each person I speak to, I feel a little more like I’m no different and that I’m not, no matter what I think, alone.
When coffee is served, George excuses us and takes my hand, leading me through the packed room and out into the manicured gardens.
“I simply had to escape,” he tells me as we walk along one of the many paths. “I have wanted to get you alone for so long.”
“You have?”
“I have.” He smiles, turning to look at me. “You’re breathtaking tonight, Imogen, so graceful and elegant. I confess to thinking many thoughts a gentleman should not be thinking about you tonight.”
“Ah.” I grin. “A gentleman can think whatever he likes. It’s whether he voices them or not that’s the problem.”
He moves a little faster and steps in front of me. “I wish I could tell you, but I fear it’s… “ He looks past me and blinks. “Can I show you something that’s special to me?”
“Of course.”
We walk a little further, and I know where he’s taking me before he tells me. We come to an old wooden door nestled inside the hedge and he pushes it open, holding it for me to step through.
“I had no idea this was a special place for you. It’s a special place for me, too,” I say softly, walking towards the swing.
“I often come here to think when everything gets too much. I remember the first time I came upon it: I remember thinking how romantic it is, and how I wished I had someone to share it with.”
He holds out his hands and guides me to the very centre of the secret garden. He pulls me close and rests his palm on the small of my back before clasping my hand in his.
“I’d like very much to dance with you. Is that… okay?” he says softly.
“I’d love to dance with you.”
He begins to hum a song I’m not entirely sure of, but it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere deep within him. It’s painful yet beautifully joyful.
“I thought you’d probably miss dancing. I can’t pretend to be in the same league as you, but I can offer you this,” he whispers, lowering his face to my hair and inhaling.
“I miss everything,” I tell him honestly, the loss seeming to overwhelm me suddenly. “But everything is much easier to bear now I have you.”
“I hope I will always bring you some comfort because you bring me great solace.”
I raise my head to look at him and he smiles. I look past him and notice the stars are bright and proud, blinking at us like beacons of hope. “I’ve never danced under the stars before,” I admit.
“Neither have I. But then there are so many things I have not done. I hope I’ll get to do some of them with you.”
We don’t talk for a long time after that. George softly hums more songs while we continue to dance, just the two of us with only the stars as witnesses. Some songs I know, some I don’t, but they are all equally beautiful.
“I’m scared to admit this,” I whisper. “But I’m beginning to think maybe I could be happy here. Is that wrong?”
“Nothing you feel is wrong. I hope you will be happy here. I can assure you I am, mostly. Sometimes I long for a life like everyone else, but then, if I had a life like everyone else, those I’ve managed to help would not have one. I have to believe my purpose in life is one very different from what I imagined. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be happy.”
“I can’t help thinking there are so many things I won’t ever get to do. I imagine it’s different for a man, but I long to be a mother. I’ve always dreamed of having children and that’s not possible now,” I admit honestly.
For the first time ever, I’m voicing my fears. I’m admitting there are things I long for that I know I can never, ever have.
“I’ve always wanted to be a father, too. It’s not the same for me as for you, of course. But I do understand what you feel to some extent. There are no words of wisdom I can share, nor words of comfort. You must allow yourself to grieve for that loss as you are grieving for your old life and the loss of your family. I hope it will not always trouble you so much. I hope it will not always cause such great pain.”
I look up into his eyes to see his face flooded with emotion, his pain at his losses clear to see. Slowly, I reach up onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his. I feel his fingers tighten on my waist and I feel my body react and heat at his touch.
“I think maybe with you, I’ll find everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more,” I murmur against his mouth.
We stay entwined as we continue to dance in our own private bubble of beauty, and when we notice lights turning off in the house, we realise we’ve been outside for a long time. It’s only then I notice how cold I’ve gotten.
“I have a l
ong day tomorrow,” I tell him. “Molly wants to take me to her favourite place. I don’t know where that is just yet.”
“Wherever it is, it’s special that she wants to take you. Shall we go back?”
I nod and shiver. Being a true gentleman, he removes his jacket and places it over my shoulders. I inhale and have to swallow back a groan. George always smells so good, and it’s delightful being surrounded by him.
He clasps my hand all the way back, and as we walk up the big marble stairs to the front door, I prepare myself to release his hand, but his fingers stay within mine.
He walks me to my quarters and smiles shyly from the doorway. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Miss Thomas. I very much hope we can do it again sometime.”
“I hope so, too.”
He continues to stand there, and I continue to wait. But he doesn’t move.
Deciding to take charge, I lean forward and pull him towards me by his tie. He groans deep in his chest and wraps one arm around my waist as I press my lips to his.
I lose myself in him for what feels like the longest time. I savour the feeling of his tongue brushing against mine when I seek his out. I delight in the warmth of his fingers on my waist and I encourage his free hand when it tentatively caresses the small of my back.
All too soon, he pulls back, flushed and breathless. “Goodnight, Imogen,” he says, his voice very unlike his usual controlled tone. He steps back with a tortured look on his face.
“It doesn’t have to be. I mean, you can come inside… if you’d like to.”
He shakes his head and clenches his hands into fists by his side. “I’d very much like to, but I won’t. Not tonight, at least.” He steps forward and traces the frown lines on my forehead before placing a kiss there. “I hope one day you’ll invite me in again, and I hope I’ll be able to say yes.”
I look up into his face and force myself to smile. He steps back and turns to walk away. Before he gets five steps, I call his name. He turns around and when I look into his piercing blue eyes, I feel an involuntary shudder wrack my body.
“The invitation is there, when you’re ready.”
He nods and flashes me his breathtaking smile. “One day soon,” he reminds me before he leaves me standing at the door, still wearing his jacket.
I’ve been lying awake for hours, unable to drift off while my body and brain assault me with overwhelming sensations and emotions.
I go over and over everything George said to me, remembering the sudden change in his voice right at the end of the night. I remember how his hands moulded to my body like he was my creator, how his heated skin felt against mine, how sensual and indulgent his kisses were.
George may be old fashioned, he may have lived a life very far removed from mine, but his desires, his needs are like those of any modern man I’ve ever met. He craves the connection that falling in love and feelings of lust bring with them. He seeks everything I do and just as strongly.
Deciding to give up on trying to sleep, I get up and shower. I send Molly a quick message to find out how I need to be dressed for the adventure she has in store for me today. She replies telling me to dress warmly and practically.
Absolutely no heels. That alone has me not wanting to go.
I hope to bump into George over breakfast but Leo informs me he’s been called out on a Senior matter and will be out for the day. I feel a pang of disappointment that he didn’t tell me himself, which fizzles away when I arrive back at my quarters and find a note from the man himself.
Dear Imogen,
I apologise for not telling you personally, but a situation has arisen that needs my attention. Since I know you’re more than capable of handling anything that may crop up today, I don’t feel at all concerned at leaving you alone for the day.
However, if you do need me, you know how to reach me, and if I am unavailable, please talk to Leo.
I would very much like to have dinner with you tonight if it suits you. I’ll look forward to hearing about your day.
Yours,
George
I smile at his gentlemanly penship and hold the page up to my face and inhale. I’m not entirely sure how he does it, but even his paper smells like him. Putting it carefully in my bedside table, I grab everything I need for the day and head out to meet Molly.
When I arrive, I walk up the path and stop on the front step. I listen, but I hear nothing. Not sure if she’s out of bed yet, I decide to annoy her if she’s not. I remove my glove and press the doorbell to the annoying tune of Dancing Queen.
I hate that song.
People always seem to think it’s funny to play it when I’m around. Like, yes, I dance, and yes, I’m good, but please, play something better than Abba for me.
I wait and wait, and I’m just about to ring again when the door flies open.
She stands there with those awful pyjamas hanging off her and crazy blonde bed hair standing out at all angles, staring at me as though she has no idea who I am or what I’m doing here. Her hand lifts to her wild mop, scratching at it for a moment before attempting, fruitlessly, to straighten it out. “Is it that time already?”
“Yes.” I chuckle at her. “You texted me about twenty minutes ago. I foolishly took that as a good sign that you were awake. Clearly that was silly of me.”
Yawning, she stretches long and slow before nodding and gesturing for me to come inside. “Yeah, umm, about that. I have a bit of a weird habit of texting people in my sleep. I once proposed to a very ex boyfriend by mistake after a weird sex dream. It’s… annoying.”
“Molly, it’s too early for this, even for me. And I don’t know where I would start to process it even if it was after lunch. Can you get ready, please? I’m itching to see where this place is you’re taking me. Is it the zoo? Are we going to see the penguins?” I ask excitedly.
“Well…” She pauses, stumbling over a bag sitting by the door and glaring at it while hopping up and down on the other leg to tenderly minister to the victim of the stubbing. “I don’t think there will be penguins. But I’m hardly a wildlife expert. I can’t even keep a houseplant alive.”
“You can barely keep yourself alive. Do you have food? Have you been out of the house since I last dragged you out? Please tell me you’ve had wild, hot, sweaty sex with doctor Seb. Astian and that’s why you’re so sleepy.”
Shaking her head, she mumbles to herself as she shuffles her way to the stairs. “Doctor Seb. Astian can, I’m sure, find plenty of far more interesting and less… grouchy women to have wild, hot, sweaty sex with.”
“Hey, don’t speak like that. You’re only a little grouchy and I bet you give good sex when you’re fully in the mood,” I tease her.
“You’re right,” she says with a chuckle. “It is way too early for this. I’ll go get…” She waves her hand dopily around herself to demonstrate everything she needs to fix before she can leave the house without getting committed.
“Can I make a coffee? I need it. I haven’t slept a wink.”
She spins on the stair she’s on and almost topples down them, grabbing on to the banister and hugging it tightly before turning to me with narrowed eyes. “Why not? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” I wave her off. “Just had a, ah, work thing last night with George and he… Never mind. Go get dressed please. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
I turn around and head in the direction of the caffeine, but she doesn’t let me get away that easily. With energy I didn’t know she had, she sprints in front of me and bars my way into the kitchen, hands on hips, eyes trained on my face.
“Nu uh, lady. You don’t get to interrogate me about every single bag under my eyes and then fob me off with that. Tell me more. Or no coffee.”
“Bloody hell you’re like a ninja. Are you sure you didn’t have sex? You’re unusually energetic this morning.”
“Trust me,” she says, tapping a foot impatiently. “If I’d had the sex, you’d be the first to know. Tell me, is it possible for your virgini
ty to grow back? Asking for a friend, obviously.”
“That’s truly disgusting. However, I’d like to know myself. Shall I Google?”
“Mmhmm,” she hums. “After you’ve told me what happened with Gorgeous George.”
“Fiiiiiiiiine.” I huff. “We had dinner with lots of other people. We went for a walk with, ah… not so many other people. There might have been a moonlit dance in the secret garden there, and I might have got a kiss or two. That’s it. Now can I have coffee?” I growl.
“A kiss or two,” she mimics, complete with air quotation marks. “Like you’re not secretly screaming with giddiness inside. You don’t fool me, missy.”
“Giddiness? What I’m feeling goes waaaaaaaay beyond giddiness. I’m… God, I don’t even know. But today isn’t about what happened to me last night. What have you been up to? Get dressed quickly so you can tell me.” I move around her, slap her butt a little harder than intended and grin at her.
Snickering, she waves a hand towards the coffee machine magnanimously before sweeping from the room to get dressed. “Okay, but if you get coffee, hook me up, too. I’ll be back.”
I make us both a coffee and sit at the table waiting for Little Miss Sunshine to appear again. After a few seconds, I notice a slip of paper with almost illegible scrawl over it. It’s an address and a mobile number. I’m grinning to myself when Molly finally comes in and notices what I’m holding.
“Care to explain this?” I ask, waving the paper at her.
She moves closer, looking remarkably more human while attempting to drag a brush through her hair. When her eyes land on the paper, the colour drains from her face and she reaches out to snatch it, only to be foiled by my impeccable reflexes. “It’s nothing. Just a friend.”
“An obviously male friend. No female writes like that. Who is it, Molly?”
“Christ, are you always so nosy?” she asks, reaching for the coffee I poured for her and hiding behind it as she drinks it quickly enough to burn her mouth.
