“Something like that,” he said gently, “but it’s up to you, my love. I’m happy to sleep here, if that’s what you want. As long as you take me to a chiropractor tomorrow, so he can fix my back.” She laughed again, and pulled the covers off him unceremoniously, as he sat up.
“Come on. Let’s be grown up.” She held out a hand to him and led him to her room, and he didn’t object. But he had left the choice up to her. Without commenting on it further, they both climbed into her bed, and as they lay side by side in the small double bed, he took her in his arms.
“I love you, Hope,” he whispered.
“I love you too, Finn,” she whispered back. And then without another word of discussion or explanation, or mention of fusion, he made love to her as no one ever had in her life.
Chapter 8
Finn and Hope’s days at Cape Cod were magical. They woke up late in the morning, made love before they got up. He cooked breakfast for her, and they bundled up and went for long walks on the beach. When they got back, Finn lit a fire in the living room. They spent hours reading, and she took photographs of him. They made love again in the afternoon, cooked together, slept together, talked for hours about everything that mattered to them. She had never spent as much time with anyone in her life.
She found boxes of old photographs of Mimi and her parents, and went through all of them with him. They went to local restaurants and ate lobster, with butter dripping down their chins, laughing at each other in ridiculous gigantic paper bibs, and she took pictures of him that way too. She asked a waiter to take a photograph of them together, and Finn got briefly annoyed and jokingly accused her of flirting with the waiter, which she wasn’t.
It was almost like a honeymoon. They stayed for a week, and finally, regretfully, they closed the house. Finn latched the shutters, and they drove back to New York. This time, he didn’t stay at the Mercer, he moved into the loft with her. It felt perfectly natural to her now. She was totally at ease with him.
They went to his publishing event the night they got back, and this time he was the center of attention, and she quietly took photographs of him from a distance, smiling softly, and every now and then their eyes would meet across the room. She was proud of him as she watched him, and he was equally proud to have her with him. The only heartache they were facing was that he was going back to Dublin soon.
They talked about it when they got home that night, and Finn looked unhappy, although they’d had a lovely evening.
“When can you come over to see me?” he said, looking like a child about to be abandoned by his mother, or sent away to camp.
“I don’t know. I have an assignment, shooting an actor in L.A. the first week in February. After that, I’m fairly free.”
“That’s less than two weeks away,” he said miserably, and then frowned as he asked her the next question. “What actor?”
“Rod Beames,” she said casually. She had shot him once before. He was up for an Academy Award for best actor.
“Shit,” Finn said, giving her an angry look. “Have you ever gone out with him?”
“Of course not.” She was startled by his reaction and the question. “He’s a subject, not a boyfriend. I never go out with the people I shoot.” And then she laughed as she said it, given what had happened with him. “You’re the first,” she reassured him. “And the last,” she promised, as she leaned over to kiss him.
“How do I know that’s true?” He looked upset and worried, and it touched her. Paul had never been jealous, but Finn clearly was. He had made a comment about one of the waiters at a restaurant at the Cape, and accused her half-jokingly of flirting with him, which of course she wasn’t. She laughed at Finn, and he apologized. It made her feel very young and desirable that he would even worry about it, but she only had eyes for Finn.
“Because I say so, silly,” she said, and kissed him again. “I suppose I could fly to Dublin from L.A., after that. Can I fly to Dublin, or do I have to change planes in London?” She was already figuring out the dates in her head.
“I’ll check. What about you and Beames?” He went back to it again.
“About the same as you and Queen Elizabeth. I’m not worried about her. You don’t need to worry about him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally.” She smiled at him, and he relaxed a little.
“What if he asks you out this time?”
“I’ll tell him that I’m madly in love with a fabulous man in Ireland, and he doesn’t have a chance.” She was still smiling, as Finn continued to look at her nervously. It was true. Once they started sleeping with each other, all of her reserve fell away, her guard went down, she trusted him completely, and her heart was his. They had talked about how quickly it had all happened between them, and how much in love they both were. It was what the French called a “coup de foudre,” a bolt of lightning that had hit them, and he pointed out regularly that there was no turning back now. He said he was irreversibly in love with her, and she was equally in love with him.
Hope had come to the conclusion that at their age, those things happened, they knew who they were and what they wanted, what had gone wrong in past lifetimes, and they both felt certain that this was forever, even though she felt it was soon to tell anyone. They had been in love with each other for just over a month, and Hope had never been as sure of anything in her life as she was of her love for him, and Finn felt the same. They both knew it was for real, and agreed that it was the best thing that had ever happened to them.
Finn promised to check out the flights for her the next day, and as it turned out, there was a flight to Dublin from L.A. He stayed in New York for another week and they had a wonderful time together. She thought of introducing him to Mark Webber, but decided it was premature. No one would understand how certain they were of each other this early. It was easier not to have to defend it, and just enjoy it privately. And Finn wanted to be alone with her anyway before he left. He said he didn’t want anyone taking up their time, which was infinitely precious as the days flew by until he was to leave.
He looked mournful the morning she helped him pack his suitcase. He was miserable about leaving, and still nervous about her photo shoot with Rod Beames. He kept bringing it up, and Hope was beginning to feel silly reassuring him. But since they had met and fallen in love with each other after her assignment to shoot him, he was worried about all her portrait sittings now. She reassured him again and again. And they made love before they left for the airport. She had never made love as often in her life as they had in the past weeks.
They had vaguely discussed marriage, although not in hard and fast terms. It really was too early, but they had both confirmed that the concept was not distasteful to either of them. Finn didn’t care what it took, or how they did it, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And she was beginning to think the same thing, although she wasn’t sure she needed marriage to do it. She was already more or less living with him, and would be in Ireland as well.
And he had shocked her by bringing up the subject of a baby. He said he wanted to try having one with her. She had gently told him that the project would probably need considerable intervention and assistance, and she didn’t feel ready to take that on, at least not yet. She wanted to discuss it later, after they’d been together for longer, but somewhere deep within her, although it sounded crazy, the idea had some appeal. Particularly when she looked at the photographs of Mimi and remembered how adorable she’d been as a baby. The idea of having a child with Finn was scary, but dazzling. And thinking about it made her feel young again. He insisted that they could do it at their ages, others had, including several of his friends. He was pushing hard for the idea, but had agreed to wait at least a couple of months before they discussed it again.
He was silent on the way to the airport and held her in his arms in the limousine. They kissed and whispered, and he promised to call her the minute he arrived. He was taking the night flight, and would arrive too late for
him to call her, but it would be morning for him.
“I’ll get the house ready for you,” he promised. He said he had a lot of cleaning up to do, and he needed to get the furnace man in, so the part of the house they lived in wouldn’t be freezing cold. He told her to bring a lot of sweaters and warm jackets, and good solid shoes to walk in the hills. It would be early February when she got there, so it would be rainy and cold. She had promised to stay with him for a month, and was looking forward to it. He had to write in March anyway, and she had assignments set up in New York, so she couldn’t stay longer than that. But a month would be a great start, and allow her to settle in. They had just spent four weeks together in New York.
Leaving each other at the airport was like ripping a limb off for both of them. She had never been as attached to anyone, and certainly not this quickly, except Mimi, but not even Paul. Her relationship with Paul, when she met him, had been far more measured and started more slowly, particularly since she was a student then, and he was so much older. He had been very cautious about not moving too quickly. Finn had none of those concerns, and had leaped in with both feet. But at their age, it made more sense. Both of them knew people who had fallen in love in their forties, realized they’d met “the right one” quickly, married within months, and had been happy ever since. But they both knew that it would still be hard to explain to others. They had fallen madly in love and decided to spend their lives together, in a month.
And Hope was determined not to say anything to Paul yet. She didn’t want to upset him, and had no idea how he’d react. She had been alone for so long, and so accessible to him whenever he wanted, even if it wasn’t often, she somehow had a sense that he might be unnerved by her being involved with someone. But she thought that once they met, he and Finn could be good friends. Finn had expressed no jealousy about him yet, which seemed a very good thing. Hope would have been bothered by it if he had. Paul was very important to her, and she loved him deeply, in a pure way now, and knew she always would, for however long he lived, which she hoped would be a long time. She had talked to him once in January, and he was still on his boat then, sailing toward St. Bart’s. She never mentioned Finn. And Paul could get her on her cell phone anywhere in the world, so even when she was in Ireland, he could call her, and she didn’t need to tell him where she was, unless she chose to when he called. But she wanted to be discreet for now.
She and Finn kissed for a last time, and she waved as he went through security and disappeared, and then she went back to the city in the limo he’d rented. It was the first time she’d been alone in a month and it felt strange. It was small comfort that they wouldn’t be wrestling with her narrow bed. It was an impossible fit for her and Finn, but he insisted on sleeping with her in it, every night. She had promised to try and fit a larger bed onto her sleeping platform before he came to stay again, but it would be a tight fit.
After he left, the apartment seemed empty without him, and she wandered around aimlessly for a while, then she answered some emails, checked her mail, made some editing notes about photographs for her retoucher, and finally took a bath and went to bed with a book. She missed him, but she had to admit that, for a short time, having time to herself was nice. Finn liked a lot of attention, engaged in interesting conversations with her at all hours, and wanted to be together all the time. And just for a change, it was almost fun to be on her own again, although she wouldn’t have said it to him. He would have been crushed.
Her cell phone woke her at three in the morning. It was Finn. He had just arrived. He called to tell her he loved her, and missed her awfully. She thanked him, told him she loved him too, blew him a kiss, and went back to sleep. And he called her again at nine. He told her everything he was doing at the house in preparation for her arrival, and she smiled, listening to him. He sounded like a little kid, and she loved that about him. There was an innocence and sweetness about him that was irresistible. When they were together, it was easy to forget how famous and successful he was, just as he did about her. It wasn’t important to them.
He called her three times a day, and she called him as often, between projects and meetings, gallery visits, and discussions with curators. He sounded fine until the day she was leaving for L.A., and then he mentioned Rod Beames again and reminded her not to fall in love with him, or even go out to dinner with him, remembering what had happened between them. She assured him that she wouldn’t and reminded him that Beames had a twenty-five-year-old wife who was pregnant, and he would surely not be chasing her.
“You never know,” Finn said, still sounding anxious. “I’d rather have you than any twenty-five-year-old.”
“That’s why I’m in love with you,” Hope said, smiling. She was rushing to the airport and had to get off the phone.
Once she was in L.A., Finn called her constantly. She finally had to shut off her phone at the sitting, and he complained about it bitterly when she turned it back on again after the shoot.
“What were you doing with him?” Finn asked, sounding angry.
“Taking his picture, silly,” Hope said, trying to calm him. It was the first time she had ever encountered jealousy of this nature. It would never have occurred to Paul, nor to her. “I’m all done. I’m back at the hotel. I have a meeting tomorrow morning at the L.A. County Museum about a show next year, and then I’m through. I’m flying out tomorrow. So stop worrying. And I’m not seeing Beames again.” In fact, he and his wife had invited her to dinner, and she hadn’t accepted because Finn had made such an issue about it. It seemed like a shame to her. She liked having dinner with her subjects before or after a shoot. It was the first time she had ever hesitated to do so, because she didn’t want to upset Finn. She hoped he’d get over his jealousy soon. It was a little trying, but flattering at the same time, as though she were some hot young thing that every man on the planet would want to seduce, which she had pointed out to Finn was hardly the case. But he was jealous anyway.
Instead of going out, she had dinner in her room at the Beverly Hills hotel. When Finn called her before he went to bed, he was happy to find her having room service. He was warm and loving with her and could hardly wait for her to arrive.
Hope flew to Dublin after her meeting at the L.A. County Museum, which went well. The flight was long, and by the time she landed in Dublin, she felt as though she had been on a plane for days. In the future, it was going to be a lot easier getting to Ireland from New York.
She went through customs quickly, and Finn was waiting for her as she came through and swept her into his arms. Anyone who saw them would have thought he hadn’t seen her for years, and he was carrying an enormous bouquet of flowers, reds and yellows and pinks—they were the prettiest flowers she’d ever seen. They chatted animatedly as they went to pick up her bags, and then she followed him to his car. She liked listening to the Irish brogues around her, and Finn imitated them perfectly. He swept a low bow as he held open the door to his Jaguar, and she got in holding her bouquet. She didn’t say it, but she felt like a bride.
It took them a little over an hour, driving southwest from Dublin, until they reached the town of Blessington, and drove through it. Finn followed the signs to Russborough, on narrow country roads, driving expertly on the left side, and then turned off finally onto a gravel road. The hills he had talked about were all around them, the Wicklow Mountains. There were forests and fields of wildflowers that had sprung up in the February rains. It was cold, but not as much so as Cape Cod. It was mostly damp and gray, and it rained on and off as they drove from the airport. And as soon as they reached the gravel road that was his driveway, he stopped the car, took her in his arms, and kissed her hard. He took her breath away.
“God, woman, I felt like you were never coming. I’m not letting you out of my sight again. Or I’m going with you next time. I’ve never missed anyone so much in my life.” They had only been apart for a week.
“I missed you too,” she said, smiling, happy to be there, and she couldn’t wait t
o see his house.
He started the car again then. It was a dark green Jaguar with tan leather seats, very elegant and masculine, and perfectly suited to him. He told her she could drive it anytime, but she was afraid to drive on the wrong side of the road, so he promised to be her chauffeur wherever she went, which sounded fine to her. She didn’t need to go anywhere without him anyway. She was here to see him.
They drove along the gravel road for what seemed like forever, with forests in the distance, and a row of trees bordering the road. They sped along a graceful turn then, and suddenly she saw it, and caught her breath. For a moment she was speechless, while he smiled. It always did the same to him, particularly when he’d been away for a while.
“Oh my God!” Hope said, turning to look at him with a broad smile. “Are you kidding? That’s not a house, it’s a palace!” It looked extraordinary. The house was enormous, and looked like the photograph he’d shown her in London, but in real life it was so much bigger, it stunned her.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said humbly, as he stopped the car and she got out. The house itself was majestic, the staircase looked like the gateway to heaven, and the columns lent it grace. “Welcome to Blaxton House, my love.” He had already told her it bore his mother’s maiden name and always had. Finn put an arm around her, and led her up the long stone steps. An old man in a black apron came out to greet them, and a moment later an ancient maid appeared wearing a uniform and a black sweater, with her hair in a tight bun. They looked older than the building, but were smiling and friendly, as Finn introduced her to them. Their names were Winfred and Katherine, and he explained to her later that they had come with the estate, and commented himself that they looked nearly as old.
Inside the house, there was a long gallery filled with dusty family portraits in a long dark hall with tapestries and somber furniture. There was no proper lighting, and Hope could hardly see the portraits, as she walked past them. Winfred had gone out to get her bags, and Katherine had disappeared to make them tea. On either side of the gallery were enormous drawing rooms, sparsely furnished in threadbare antiques. Hope noticed several handsome Aubusson carpets in muted colors, badly in need of repair. But the windows were long and wide, and let lots of light in. The curtains were beautiful and old with gigantic tassles but were in shreds, barely hanging by a thread.
Matters of the Heart Page 10
