Island in the Sea

by Anita Hughes

  “I can’t wait for the wedding.” Juliet smiled. “You’ll be the most beautiful bride.”

  “Lydia insists on coming to Paris to pick out a Yves Saint Laurent wedding dress.” Gabriella paused. “I’d rather get married in a small church followed by a simple lunch of lobster ravioli. But if she wants the wedding to be at the Cathedral de Seu with a twelve-tier chocolate fondant cake and bouquets of pink roses, I’ll do anything to make her happy.

  “I’ve been talking so much.” Gabriella sighed. “I want to hear all about Lionel.”

  Juliet suddenly remembered watching Gabriella and Hugo dance and how they moved like one person. She pictured the way Gabriella’s eyes lit up when Hugo entered the kitchen.

  Gabriella believed in love, there was nothing more important. She couldn’t tell her Lionel set her up with Henry, and Henry was never in love with her. She couldn’t tell her Lionel lied and she wasn’t going to see him again. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin and smiled.

  “There’s nothing to tell, everything is perfect.”

  chapter thirty-three

  JULIET STROLLED ALONG THE cobblestones and inhaled the scent of oranges and honey. She climbed the steps to Lydia’s house and knocked on the lacquered front door.

  “Juliet,” Lydia exclaimed. Her silvery hair was pulled into a bun and she wore a yellow cotton shirt and white slacks.

  “I was having afternoon tea, it’s a lovely British tradition.” She ushered Juliet into the living room. “The Spanish take a nap and miss half the day. I’d rather have a cup of black tea and a fresh scone and spend the afternoon in the garden.”

  Juliet glanced at the ivory plaster walls and mosaic ceiling. She saw the tile floor and ceramic vases filled with sunflowers and thought how much she would miss Lydia.

  “I brought you a present.” She handed her a small package.

  Lydia unwrapped the paper and discovered The House of Mirth and The Age of Innocence.

  “Edith Wharton is one of my favorite authors,” Juliet explained. “The concierge said I could take them from the hotel library if I promised to send him more books.”

  “Gabriella told me you’re leaving tomorrow.” Lydia put a salmon and watercress sandwich on a plate and handed it to Juliet. “She also told me she’s moving to Paris with Hugo.

  “There’s nothing better than being in love and she’ll return with an appreciation of Versailles and the Louvre. I’ll visit and we’ll browse in Chanel and Dior and stock up on books at Shakespeare & Company.” She stopped and looked at Juliet. “I didn’t judge Hugo fairly, he loves Gabriella and will take good care of her.”

  “I’ve never seen her so happy,” Juliet agreed.

  “What will you do now that she declined Gideon’s offer?” Lydia asked. “Will Lionel have to fulfill his contract?”

  Juliet felt the bread get stuck in her throat. She put the plate on the coffee table and took a deep breath.

  “I couldn’t make him do that after what Gideon did to him.” She hesitated. “Even if he lied to me.”

  “What happened?” Lydia raised her eyebrow. “The last time I saw you, you were madly in love. You were sitting at an outdoor café waiting for Lionel to call.”

  “He took me to Cap Rocat and we ate berries and ice cream and spent a night in a suite.” Juliet bit her lip. “It was the best night of my life and I didn’t want it to end.

  “The next evening I went to Casa Isabella to see Gabriella and discovered Lionel and Henry were old friends. Lionel had asked Henry to take me to dinner and dancing and pretend to fall in love with me. Lionel said I was twenty-eight and never had been in love, and he didn’t want me to miss out.”

  “I see,” Lydia murmured.

  “But then I saw Henry and he said that wasn’t the real reason,” Juliet continued. “Lionel was in love with me from the beginning, but he thought he was too old and had too many bad habits.

  “He decided if I fell in love with Henry, there was no chance we could be together.” She looked at Lydia. “He lied to me and I told him I couldn’t see him again.”

  Lydia stood up and walked to the French doors. She smoothed her hair and turned around.

  “You and I went behind Gabriella’s back and sent Gideon the tape,” Lydia said. “Sometimes it’s necessary to bend the truth.”

  “But we never did anything to hurt her,” Juliet insisted. “You just wanted to give her a choice. If I had fallen in love with Henry and he wasn’t really in love with me, I would have had my heart broken.”

  “You were so in love with Lionel, are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “I want everything to be the way it was after our night at Cap Rocat,” Juliet exclaimed. “I want to wake up and think the sun is brighter and the sky is bluer and the platter of fresh fruit couldn’t be sweeter. I want to climb the stone steps of Casa Rosa and know Lionel is waiting for me. I went to spend all day reading Shakespeare and listening to the Beatles.” She twisted her hands. “But relationships are based on trust and I can’t be with someone who lies.”

  “People think the hardest part about being a priest is teaching people the scriptures. But anyone can read the Bible and they teach John and Matthew in Sunday school,” Lydia began. “The one thing people don’t understand is forgiveness. Being able to forgive is as important as knowing how to love; it’s impossible to have one without the other.

  “It would be so easy if we could spend all our time in church, but sometimes we have to learn to forgive each other. Lionel did a terrible thing, but he did it because he loved you.”

  “What if he lies to me about other things?” Juliet asked. “Nothing is more important in a relationship than honesty.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes, but being in love means you are completely selfless,” Lydia mused. “If you both put each other first, how can you not be happy?”

  “Maybe life is easier without love.” Juliet frowned. “You said you love living alone. You eat whatever you like and watch old movies without being disturbed.”

  “When I was young I spent all my time with Felipe, there’s nothing better than the love of a child,” Lydia continued. “All you have to do is give them a bowl of ice cream and they think you are the greatest mother in the world.

  “Then Gabriella was born, and I showered her with pretty clothes and shoes and books. All week I looked forward to taking her to the library in Palma.” She paused. “You need someone to love or life can be empty. And if you find someone who loves you more than he loves himself, how could you possibly let him go?”

  Juliet ate the last bite of sandwich and brushed the crumbs from her skirt. She pictured Lionel’s wavy hair and green eyes and wondered the same thing.

  * * *

  Juliet stood on the balcony and gazed at the ragged cliffs and pink and purple Mediterranean. It was early evening and she could see fishermen pulling their boats to shore. She watched the mist drift down from the Tramuntana Mountains and felt her shoulders tighten.

  She had spent the afternoon buying a silk scarf for her mother and leather slippers for her father. She debated buying a linen shirt for Gideon; then she remembered Gabriella declining his offer and her stomach turned over.

  She folded cotton dresses into her suitcase and sighed. If Lionel didn’t fulfill his contract, she might be fired. And could she really work for Gideon when she knew what he was capable of? But then she thought of how hard she had worked to get her position. If she quit without a reference she might not find another job.

  She remembered her conversation with Lydia and thought she made it sound so easy to forgive Lionel. But she had been raised to tell the truth, it was the basis of everything.

  Without trust a relationship couldn’t survive, there were too many things waiting to tear it apart. You had to have complete faith in the other person or you didn’t have anything at all.

  She pictured Lionel standing in his kitchen, slicing turkey onto whole wheat bread. She saw him pacing around the living room, flicking ash
es into the silver ashtray. She picked up her phone and felt like everything was ending. She dialed Gideon’s number and pressed SEND.

  chapter thirty-four

  LIONEL SELECTED A WEDGE OF soft cheese and added a sausage. He rummaged through his pockets and found a ten-euro note. He handed it to the woman behind the counter and strolled through the plaza.

  He had walked down to the newsagent because he was out of cigarettes. He bought a carton of Marlboros and a copy of The Observer and a packet of Mentos. He inhaled the scent of fresh fish and roasting chicken and thought he would explore the outdoor market. But the stalls were crowded and the pavement was strewn with fruit and he kept bumping into tourists.

  Now he glanced up and saw a woman looking at him. She had dark hair and wore a floral dress and white sandals.

  “I didn’t mean to stare,” she said. “You must be Lionel Harding, I recognize you from the cover of my mother’s CDs. I’m Gabriella, a friend of Juliet’s.”

  “The girl with the amazing voice.” Lionel nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “She told me all about you.” Gabriella blushed. “I shouldn’t say anything, but it’s wonderful to see her so happy.

  “I felt terrible when I turned down Gideon’s offer,” she continued. “But Juliet said she couldn’t imagine me doing anything else.”

  “You turned it down?” Lionel asked.

  “I’m going to Paris with my fiancé, Hugo,” Gabriella explained. “I never wanted to be a singer, it must be difficult living in hotel rooms and performing in front of thousands of people.”

  “It has its moments,” Lionel hesitated. “Did Juliet tell you anything else?”

  Gabriella picked out a purple eggplant and put it in her basket. “Was there anything else to tell me?”

  Lionel shook his head and slipped his hands in his pockets. “I can’t think of a thing.”

  * * *

  Lionel entered Casa Rosa and tossed his shopping bag on the kitchen counter. He walked into the living room and poured a glass of scotch. He tapped a cigarette from his gold cigarette case and lit it with a pearl lighter.

  Ever since he met Gabriella his thoughts were spinning. Why hadn’t Juliet told Gabriella he lied to her? And what would Juliet do if she lost her job?

  He drained his scotch and stared at the piano. A Cadbury Fruit & Nut bar and a packet of peanuts and an apple littered the glass coffee table. His collar was loose and he sat on the hardwood bench. He opened his notebook and wrote as if his life depended on it.

  All night he wrote; crumpling pages into the garbage. He discovered a bottle of Hennessy in the cellar and pulled out Keats sonnets from the library. He paced around the living room, watching the stars glimmer on the swimming pool. He made a midnight snack of white bread and marmite and wrote some more.

  Finally he saw the sun stream though the French doors and heard the bells chime in the plaza. He stumbled to the kitchen and poured a cup of black coffee. He took it back to the piano and read through his notebook. He felt the hot liquid scald his throat and knew he had succeeded.

  He pulled out his computer and opened his e-mails. He transcribed his verses for an hour, cursing that he never learned to type at boarding school. He pressed SEND and leaned against the striped silk cushions. He ate the last wedge of Cadbury chocolate and wondered what he had done.

  * * *

  Now he stood in the kitchen, frying eggs in a pan. He wiped his hands on his apron and heard his phone buzz.

  “How is Majorca?” Gideon’s voice came over the line. “Are you lounging around the swimming pool with a bevy of Spanish girls wearing string bikinis and toe rings?”

  “It’s fine, thank you,” Lionel snapped.

  “I got your songs,” Gideon said. “You bloody bastard, you had the whole office in tears. Rosemary had to go out and buy boxes of Kleenex.”

  “You liked them?” Lionel clutched the spatula.

  “They are the best thing you’ve written, you can take two years if you produce songs like that,” Gideon continued. “The title track had me weeping more than when the Red Hot Chili Peppers signed with Warner Brothers.”

  “I’m glad.” Lionel felt the air leave his lungs. “I wasn’t sure I could still do it.”

  “I’m going to double your advance on your next contract,” Gideon said. “Did I tell you Sylvie is getting married? You have to come to the wedding; Rachel rented out the Getty Museum. Cirque du Soleil is going to perform and JayZ will sing.”

  “I don’t think so, I’m going to go back to London,” Lionel murmured. “I’m running out of marmite, and Harrods has increased their shipping rates.”

  “I know you were very angry about Samantha. My rabbi said it was never too late to apologize.” Gideon’s voice softened. “I’m sorry for what I did, I didn’t mean to hurt either of you.”

  “I have to go, I’m about to burn a Spanish omelet.” Lionel paused. “Tell Sylvie I’ll send her a wedding present. And tell Rachel to wear Oscar de la Renta, every mother should look like a film star at her daughter’s wedding.”

  Lionel hung up the phone and brushed his eyes with his apron. He put sausages and whole wheat toast on a plate and sat at the dining room table. He poured ketchup on eggs and chuckled. When did Gideon become Jewish?

  * * *

  Lionel strode through the plaza and approached the Hotel Salvia. He glanced at the three-story building with its black shutters and wrought iron balconies and peaked slate roof. He saw the lush gardens filled with green trellises and beds of pink azaleas. He opened the gate and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  He had hung up with Gideon and put his plate in the sink. He remembered Gideon saying “I’m sorry,” and suddenly his heart pounded in his chest.

  How could Juliet forgive him if he never said he was sorry? He ran upstairs and put on a Paul Smith patterned shirt and tan slacks. He slipped on Gucci loafers and grabbed a blue blazer. He raced out the door and walked all the way to Hotel Salvia.

  Now he entered the lobby and approached the concierge desk.

  “I am looking for Juliet Lyman,” he said. “Could you tell her someone is here to see her?”

  “You’re Lionel Harding,” the man replied. “I let you into her room, I was afraid she would be furious but she seemed pleased. Thank you for the U2 tickets, my wife is thrilled.”

  “I’m glad she likes them,” Lionel said impatiently. “Could you please tell Juliet I’m here?”

  “She checked out an hour ago,” the concierge replied.

  “Checked out?” Lionel repeated.

  “She’s on her way to the airport.” The concierge nodded. “I’ll miss her, she was a delightful guest.”

  * * *

  Lionel raced up the path to Casa Rosa and took a deep breath. He would drive to Palma airport and tell her he made a mistake. She had to forgive him; he had been a fool and he was terribly sorry.

  The front door was open and he saw a red leather purse on the marble end table. Juliet stood in the living room, gazing out the window at the turquoise swimming pool.

  He studied her glossy brown hair and slender neck and felt a pain deep inside him. He had never thought he would feel like this again and now he had thrown it all away. He treated her like a child when she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “The door was open,” Juliet stammered. She wore a red linen dress and beige slingbacks. Her cheeks were dusted with powder and she wore a gold necklace.

  “I’m leaving and I wanted to return the earrings. You said you won’t have an income for a while, and I thought you might be able to sell them.”

  “Actually I sold an album of new songs.” Lionel poured a glass of scotch. “And I’ve been promised double my last advance on my next contract.”

  “Whom did you sell the songs to?” Juliet asked.

  “I met Gabriella at the outdoor market yesterday,” Lionel began. “She mentioned she’s going to Paris and not accepting Gideon’s offer. I couldn’t let you l
ose your job, so I sat down and wrote a dozen new songs.

  “People wonder why artists drink but something has to help you stay up all night staring at an empty notebook. But when you finally hit the groove and the words come faster than you can write, you feel like Harrison Ford or David Beckham.

  “And when it’s five o’clock in the morning and your mouth tastes like cigarettes and you can’t keep you eyes open, you read what you’ve written and realize you’re a bloody genius.

  “I sent the songs to Gideon, and he loved them.” Lionel sipped his scotch. “He even invited me to Sylvie’s wedding, JayZ is going to perform.”

  “That was very kind of you.” Juliet walked to the door. “I have to go, I’ll miss my flight.”

  “I ran all the way back from Hotel Salvia.” Lionel stopped her. “I shouldn’t have asked Henry to go out with you, but I didn’t tell you the real reason. The minute you walked through the door the first day, I knew you were special. You are intelligent and beautiful and passionate about what you do, I couldn’t help falling in love with you.

  “But I drink too much and smoke too many cigarettes and leave chocolate wrappers all over the living room.” He smiled. “Even Dominique couldn’t put up with me and I was earning a paycheck. I couldn’t risk you falling in love with me and ruining your life. You deserve someone with a bright future who expects life to give them a family and a lovely home and three weeks vacation in the Maldives.” He paused. “Not someone who keeps his scotch glass next to his toothpaste.”

  “Like Henry,” Juliet murmured.

  “I thought you’d make the perfect couple. He’s a star athlete and a genuinely nice guy.” Lionel stopped. “I wanted you to be happy.

  “But I realize what I did was wrong, you are a mature woman and can make your own decisions,” he continued. “If you want to throw your life away on an aging British songwriter who reads dead poets and can’t go to bed without a cup of Ovaltine that’s up to you.” He paused and touched her arm. “But what’s worse is I didn’t apologize. I would give my signed White Album to hear you forgive me and I didn’t even say I was sorry.