Saffron Nights

by Everly, Liz

  She balled her fists up and sat them in her lap. The good doctor would be proud. “As if it’s any of your business. We are not exclusive. That is our arrangement.”

  “Yes,” he said, calming down. “But as I said on the phone, I want us to be a real couple. What do you think?”

  “Mark. I’ve loved our time together, but I just don’t want to be a part of a couple. I like my freedom. You know that.”

  She heard herself saying those words. The same words she said many times over the years. But they felt like a lie this time.

  “So, you just want to be lovers, as usual?” he said with his hand on her thigh.

  There are times in every woman’s life when a knowing sweeps over her, when all the years of careless lovemaking, of childish flirtations, come to a stop. A time comes to look deeper. To not play with emotions. To not play with another person’s feelings. The time comes to learn and to practice being cruel with kindness. It’s the path of honesty.

  She remembered when Mark’s touch sent her into mad wild lustful longings. But no more. His talk of exclusivity frightened her and turned her off. Right now, she was wading through grief and fear for her life, for Jackson’s life, and she simply was not interested in this man any longer.

  “I don’t think so Mark.”

  “I just think you’re overwrought. You’re obviously not yourself, Maeve. You can’t mean that,” he said frowning, placing his arm around her on the back of the sofa.

  “Yes,” she said calmly. “Right now, this very moment, I can tell you I’m not interested in any kind of physical relationship with you.”

  “I don’t understand. You and me, we’ve always had such a good time together.”

  “Yes, we have. But you know, things change,” she said. “I really wish you’d have called or e-mailed or something because I could have saved you the trip.”

  “Well, I wanted to surprise you … when I read about Alice …” he said and shrugged. “I don’t know how it happened, Maeve. I know you don’t really believe in it. But I’ve fallen in love with you. I hope you’ll reconsider things after you get rested.”

  “Mark, can we be friends? I mean, you’re not going to make this difficult, are you?”

  “Of course. I thought I was being civil about it. I mean I came all this way to comfort you—”

  “You came all this way to fuck me. Let’s be clear. You’re confusing things.”

  “Well, I was hoping it’d comfort you a bit, I must confess,” he said and smiled. When he did so, she felt a softening in her heart. He was devastatingly handsome. Great in bed. Intelligent. Funny. Spoiled her with lavish gifts. Was she going to be sorry for this later? She reached up and touched his face. In a split second he was all over her, pawing at her breasts, shoving his tongue almost down her throat. When she finally untangled him from her, she realized it was not a mistake. She needed him out of her life. Out of this room. Out of this house.

  “I need you to go,” she said, quietly, firmly.

  “Darling.”

  “Don’t darling me. Just leave.”

  “Where am I supposed to go? I’m in Italy, for God’s sake!”

  “You’ll find a place to stay, I’m sure.”

  “I’ve already called a cab for you, dude,” Jackson said, coming into the room. “Now I suggest you get your bags and leave before you’re really sorry.”

  Thank God for Jackson. How strange Mark made her feel. Her stomach was queasy. Just a few months ago, she’d have done anything to sleep with him. Suddenly, he totally creeped her out. Would he have forced it if it wasn’t for Jackson?

  Mark stood and buttoned his jacket and walked out of the room without uttering a word.

  “Now,” Jackson said, coming back into the room. “Now he’s gone … where were we?”

  Maeve smiled at him. “I suppose it’s impossible to resist you. Maybe I should stop trying.”

  Jackson pulled her into him. His arms, scent, heat surrounded her. Could she, again? Oh yes, she could.

  Giovanni walked into the room.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But, Jackson, you wanted to get some shots of the garden when the moon is full?”

  He groaned. “Did I? Well, never mind. Something’s come up.” Not taking his eyes from Maeve.

  “Jackson,” she said, pulling away from him, biting her lip, obviously smoldering. “You better go and get those shots. The job comes first, right now, yes?”

  “Maeve, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he whispered.

  “Oh yes, I kinda think I do. Good night.”

  She could feel his eyes on her as she turned toward the stairs. She turned back around to look at him, still standing there, blue eyes glistening, slowly looking away.

  Chapter 29

  Are you in India yet? Have you tasted the durian fruit or the root there? Drop me a line.

  Alice

  Jackson read over the e-mail. His last one from Alice, dated ten days ago. According to the newspapers, she’d been missing three days when the office insisted her landlord let them in to check on her. No mention anywhere of the mysterious cause of death. He was scanning the Internet while sitting on yet another plane, next to Maeve.

  He thought over the past few weeks and it made his head spin. He was finally feeling a bit more himself, more energized. Those hits to his head had taken a toll. He wondered if he could blame his having sex with Maeve on the bang on his head. What a stupid thing he had done. Not only would she probably stop working with him, but she was also probably going to break his heart—one he didn’t even realize he had anymore.

  But here’s the thing about what had happened—it was in the heat of another kind of moment, not a passionate moment. Not that it didn’t affect him that way. But it was a vulnerable moment, especially for her. That was going to certainly bite him in the ass.

  But she had wanted it. She led him to the pile of pillows and lifted the dress over her head, pulled him on top of her. And it was just as he suspected—she had nothing on underneath it. She was smooth and naked and willing.

  But nothing had been said or done since. It was almost as if it never happened. Not that there had been time. They were whisked off early in the morning to catch their flight to India.

  But Maeve did tell Mark to fuck off. Yeah. Jackson didn’t like him immediately. It was more than jealousy. There was a smugness about him. And how presumptuous of him to come to Italy unannounced. It was much to the man’s credit he didn’t put up much of a fight about leaving the villa.

  “You miss your boyfriend?” Jackson elbowed Maeve.

  “What? Oh. No, not really,” Maeve said and went back to reading Chef’s book.

  “He was a bit creepy, if you ask me.”

  “Well, nobody asked you.”

  “How did you hook up with him? And how long were you lovers?”

  She shut the book. “About three years. You know, his change of heart is strange. He is quite the swinger. Suddenly, he wants to settle down with me? What the hell?”

  “Swinger, eh?” Jackson flashed his eyebrows.

  “Yes,” she smiled. “Do you know what that means, Jackson?”

  “Oh yes,” he said.

  “But, you know, in theory it seems wonderful, like a really good lifestyle choice for people with unconventional tastes. But so far, over the long term, I’ve yet to see it really work out,” she said.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “I mean a long-term relationship, wherein you get together, with no ties, and play,” she said.

  “Sounds interesting,” Jackson said. “But also kind of stupid. I mean, if it’s long term, then it’s a relationship, which would mean there are ties. Of some sort.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ties, yes. But with a lot of leeway.”

  “Leeway? Like it’s okay to mess around?”

  “Well, there are all kinds of arrangements. Ours was like that. After all, we were separated by an ocean. It seemed silly to even think ab
out monogamy,” she said, fiddling with her glasses.

  “I suppose so. But what’s the point in having a boyfriend if it’s not exclusive?”

  “It’s hard to explain, but it brings a level of intimacy and trust to a relationship—if you’re open about things. Do you know what I mean?” she said.

  “Intellectually, I suppose so,” Jackson said. “I’m just thinking it wouldn’t work for me. Well, for most people.”

  “Is it better for you just to sleep with women and move on? Just one right after the other?” She was smiling at him. She wasn’t judging him.

  He thought for a moment. “I suppose not. It gets old after a while … you know? But I think if I were in a relationship, I don’t know,” he said and looked away. How did he get into this here and now?

  “Go on,” she said.

  “I mean I think if I were inclined to want that, I’d want the whole shebang, monogamy.”

  Her smile was fading. She looked pensive, as if she were trying to absorb what he just said.

  “So, what about … you know … us?” Jackson asked after a moment.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean are we just about sex?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think, well, I’m up for more of it,” he grinned.

  ”Me, too,” she said. “Let’s not get complicated.” She leaned over and whispered to him. “This is all I want,” she said, placing her hand on his crotch.

  No. She didn’t just do that.

  “Excuse me, sir, what would you like to drink?” the flight attendant interrupted.

  “Drink? Oh yes,” he said, trying to clear his mind of images of Maeve and her hand, along with the feel of her hand on him, now moved to his thigh, sending warm sensations throughout his body, like waves in a heated pool. “Whiskey. Make it a double.”

  Chapter 30

  After a day in India, Maeve took to her room. They were staying at Jackson’s friend Sanj’s remote estate. So remote it gave her the creeps. And to top it off, she was feeling sick. She was being careful to not drink local water, but she still had the worst case of the stomach flu she had ever had and had been confined to her room for three days.

  When she could lift her head from her pillow, she checked her e-mail—several from Lily, their editor, asking questions about the notes she had sent her about the durian root, wanting to know if she was making progress there, and one from Jennifer, also wanting an update.

  Jennifer and Lily,

  So sorry to be out of touch for a few days. I’ve been sick with a stomach thing. I think I am over it. We are scheduled to leave for the mountain in two days. Jackson’s friend Sanj has a medical background and is quite the researcher. He claims the Indian medical establishment is looking into using it to make a drug for impotence—sort of like Viagra.

  I have not eaten much of anything, let alone tried the durian, here.

  Will be in touch.

  M.

  Lily’s response came almost immediately.

  Maeve,

  Glad to know you are okay. How did your interview go with Gladys?

  Lily

  Maeve wrote back immediately.

  Enlightening. ;-)

  No response.

  Oh well. Such is life on the Internet highway.

  After she was feeling better, she was able to join Jackson and Sanj for dinner. They sat at a low table. She was dressed in her jeans and a T-shirt, as the sari-clad women brought sweets to the table first. “Lovely,” Maeve said, taking a bit.

  “Are you comfortable here?” Sanj wanted to know.

  “Truthfully, I’m feeling better, but a little odd.”

  “What do you mean?” Sanj asked seriously, his brows knitted. “I thought you were feeling better.”

  “No, it’s not that,” she said. “It’s that I don’t think anybody here really likes me. The women look at me oddly and keep their distance and the men hardly look at me at all.”

  Sanj laughed uproariously. “You misunderstand,” he said.

  The women brought in huge platters of saffron-colored rice and chapati, thin steaming Indian bread just from the oven.

  “Use only your right hand to handle the chapati. To tear off a piece, use the last three fingers to hold down the larger portion while, with your thumb and forefinger, you turn up the edge and tear by pressing the forefinger down and the thumb up and inward.” Maeve remembered reading in her notes about eating in India. It was a good thing she had practiced.

  “They are servants and not expected to befriend you.”

  “Yes, but some of them really seem not to like me and seem to be giving me evil eyes,” she said.

  “Oh well,” he said. “These are Muslim women. They probably think you are a loose woman because you are wearing jeans instead of the traditional salwar kameez—those pants they wear. So, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  She took a bit of the rice and realized it was spiced with the real stuff—it wasn’t just the color of saffron.

  “Mmm. Saffron,” she said.

  “Yes, we grow it in the garden,” he replied.

  “I’d love to see that,” Jackson said.

  Once again, Maeve was witnessing a different side to Jackson. He seemed more centered around Sanj, himself a fascinating guy.

  “Certainly,” Sanj said. “It’s odd so many people don’t realize saffron comes from a plant.”

  “Ha, yeah,” Maeve said. “Actually most people who think they are getting saffron are actually saffron-flavored spice. If they only knew how much the real stuff is.”

  “Or how delicious,” Sanj said.

  Maeve could smell the next course before she saw it—dal, which came in dollops on a banana leaf. She mashed it all together, moving her fingers inward and outward to mix the rice in. She achieved a claylike consistency and rolled it back and forth with her fingers to form a ball. She popped it into her mouth.

  Sanj and one of his women servants were watching her.

  “How expert you are with Indian food,” Sanj said. The woman nodded in approval. A quick glimpse of the woman’s eyes told Maeve she was okay by her.

  Suri, Maeve’s friend in New York, had given her lessons.

  “Tomorrow we will go up the mountain. We will drive as far as possible. When the road stops, we walk. You will smell the trees long before you see them. At the top of the Ramsha, there is a temple. I don’t think many Westerners have been there before. A small offshoot of a branch of the Hindu faith attends it. They practice tantric yoga, which is something the locals do not approve of.”

  “What?” Her amber eyes must have gotten as wide as the orchid on the table. Maeve had read about tantric yoga and sex, of course.

  “The group has been on this mountain for generations,” he explained. “But, as you know, my family owns part of the mountain. But what you don’t know is my uncle is one of the caretakers there. He tends the durian, along with the other herbs and spices they grow and sell. It is an honored position. Tomorrow evening is the beginning of an eight-day-long festival at the top of Ramsha. I had to—how do you say?—pull strings, of course, but you may witness the rituals and take part in the feast.”

  “Cool,” Jackson said. “Can I take pictures?”

  “Bring your camera, my friend, but be prepared to forget you have it,” Sanj said and smiled.

  Chapter 31

  Ramsha Mountain rose up in front of them like a god—lush and green. It was air-conditioned in the car, but still warm, as the heat was blistering outside. They drove through a rural village and people clad in nothing more than rags clamored to reach their car. They kept driving up the twisting dirt road, which all of a sudden came to a dead end.

  They gathered their backpacks and started up the mountain. Jackson found himself astounded by the richness of the landscape—the huge flowers, the odd-looking plants. They could not stop and really look and take a lot of photos—there wasn’t time. The goal was to get to the temple before nightfall.
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br />   Maeve brushed up against Jackson on the path.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said and smiled, stopping and taking a last drink of bottled water. “Whew! Are you okay?”

  His heart leapt—just a bit. He nodded. “I’m just taking in this scenery.”

  Their eyes met. “So am I,” Maeve said and then moved along. “But I’m not sure about that smell. It’s turning my stomach.”

  The putrid smell of the durian trees permeated the air soon after they started up the mountain.

  “I can’t stand the smell,” she said.

  Sanj gave her a handkerchief to hold in front of her nose and mouth.

  They walked over a grassy bank and looked out over a glade of the trees, reaching to the skies, the spiking fruit drooping from them. The durian fruit was hard to see at first; the trees were so large and the fruit hidden, and the landscape so dense with green. They followed Sanj around the corner to a path; around another corner, up over a hillside, and the three of them look upward at a white stone temple. Down the other side, there were smaller durian trees growing in tidy little rows.

  “We made it,” Jackson said to Maeve, but she was gasping for air.

  “It’s filling my lungs … burning … my heart is racing … I can’t breathe …” Maeve reached for him and passed out.

  “Jesus, Sanj, what are we going to do?” Jackson said, as he reached for her, softening her fall to the ground.

  “You stay here with her and I will go and get some help. There are doctors here who know how to deal with a reaction to durian, and we’ll have someone look her over,” Sanj said. “Lean her against this tree. Sit beside her, prop her up.”

  “Okay,” Jackson said, sitting next to Maeve, who was stone cold out. His arm was around her and her head drooped on to this shoulder.

  This is just fucking fantastic. What is wrong with her? His stomach twisted. They were toward the end of their tour, but they had so much more work to do. He needed her to wake up and finish the book with him.

  She was growing paler right in front of his eyes. Fear tore at him.