Promises Made- Promises Kept

by Jaclyn Rosamond

  ‘Aha, this is the piece-de-résistance.’ I turned it to face him and opened it.

  ‘Which flavors are which?’

  ‘Nuh, uh, that’s part of the fun, finding out which ones we like, kind of like a mystery bag at the fair.’

  ‘Chocolate Russian roulette.’ He twitched an eyebrow at me.

  ‘Mm. I like that. Now we get to find out which ones we like in common.’

  ‘Okay.’ He popped one in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before pulling a face.

  I giggled. ‘Okay, so not the pepper chocolate.’

  ‘There’s pepper in this?’ He shook his head. He took a swig of hot chocolate to cleanse the taste, eyes popping open in surprise. He held the mug away. ‘Apple-flavored hot chocolate?’

  I nodded, eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘Like it?’

  He nodded, taking another sip. ‘Delicious. What’s yours?’

  ‘Jaffa orange, care to try?’ I proffered my mug. He took a cautious sip before nodding endorsement.

  ‘Your turn.’ He nudged the box to me.

  ‘My favorite.’ I picked up one and handed him an identical chocolate.

  We popped them in our mouths at the same time, chewing and watching each other’s reactions.

  ‘Delicious.’

  ‘I know, right? Salted caramel. Better than most. Just enough salt and sugar to make a taste explosion.’ I licked chocolatey fingers.

  I caught a brief, appraising look, an indefinable moment of stillness hung between us. His head dropped down, but I caught a fleeting look of something, maybe a spark of eagerness in his eyes. My stomach fluttered and I tingled all over.

  Was it my imagination or did we just have “a moment”?

  During that brief moment background noise faded, cocooning us in silence. I almost reached my hand out to his, but a clumsy customer bumped our table, sending mugs teetering. We grabbed them before spillage disaster. The silence evaporated like a thunderclap amidst mumbled apologies.

  We spent the next hour giggling, taking occasional photos with our phones, laughing at the results. Cal like chili chocolate, I didn’t. The lemon chocolate – with minute shavings of candied lemon peel, was a hit.

  When we were chocolated out, he ordered me to stay where I was, while he staggered up to the counter and selected chocolates we hadn’t tried.

  He presented the new box to me with a flourish. ‘Another calorie overload?’ I said with a feigned groan.

  His face broke into a huge grin. ‘These are for when we get hungry again. C’mon, let’s waddle out of here and walk off a couple of the chocolates.’

  Once outside he took my hand. Prickles of pleasure sensitized my fingers. I had no idea hand holding could be so sexy. I fought to hide my responses to him.

  Minutes later we entered P.O.S.H., lingering in the shop for an hour. Cal pored over antique knickknacks, while I looked through old books and vintage jewelry. By the time I took an antique bookend to purchase, Cal’s acquisitions had been wrapped and he stood waiting for me.

  ‘Ready?’

  From there we wandered into a home décor store, attracted by brightly colored oddments.

  ‘I’d love to have these somewhere in my next house.’ He pointed to hand painted Mexican door knobs.

  ‘Why don’t you buy some now to inspire you?’

  Thoughtful, he looked at me. ‘Maybe. I love bright accents in a home. The last few years we’ve been through fashions with such dull colors, coffee, mushroom, taupe, greige, cream and beige, dark purples and even black walls. Sophisticated, but uninspiring. In my next home I’d like bits and pieces I’ve collected from around the world, with color and a story behind each piece. What do you like?’

  ‘Lots of color.’ I agreed. ‘I want a cottage, not a modern house. Somewhere I can turn into a modern rustic style and when I walk inside I want to feel it’s my haven, my Aladdin’s cave, if you like, full of stuff that’s unique to me. Not overcrowded. Things I pick up on my travels. Or something I’ve made, vivid jewel-colored cushions, you know.’ I shrugged. ‘I like classic black and white, too, with pops of color.’

  He nodded. ‘Eddie didn’t feel the same way?’

  ‘Not really. He had no interest in home decorating. How about Lily?’ Since he’d asked about Eddie, I asked about her.

  ‘Hmm. She wore a lot of cream and caramel colors, ideal for her blonde hair and olive skin. I’d have liked a bit more color in the house.’ His mouth curved into a rueful half-smile. ‘We did have a lot of beige and cream in our home.’

  I said nothing, this being the first inkling of imperfections in their marriage. Minor flaws?

  ‘Which do you like?’ He brought me back to the present, holding up door knobs for inspection.

  My eyebrows lifted. Unwilling to influence his choice, I nodded when he held up a few he liked. A corner of my mouth curved. This was the everyday Cal, the man absorbed by minutiae, the signs of an architect looking for details to finish a house. Or in his case, a home.

  With his focus on things for a home perhaps he was almost ready to pick up the threads of his old life. After his Australian summer?

  Two knobs were wrapped and we left the shop chatting about architectural designs he favored, heading into late afternoon cooling temperatures. A sudden puff of chilly air blew off the bay. Cal noticed my shiver and draped a heavy arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his warmth. It felt... I searched for a word...brotherly. Hmm, yes, well, actually, I couldn’t picture either of my brothers putting an affectionate arm around me to keep me warm, but it was nice all the same. No, not brotherly at all. I didn’t want examine my responses any further.

  Back at my apartment we sat sipping coffee and talking.

  ‘What’s your dad like?’ I asked, tucking my legs under me, facing him on the other couch.

  He frowned, thinking. ‘He’s a man of the people, looking after his flock, the congregation who need him. I mean, he’s never spent much time with his own family. Our emotional needs have always come as a surprise to him.’ He shrugged.

  There was a world of hurt in that shrug.

  ‘And when Lily died?’

  ‘He tried.’ His tone was bitter. ‘But when he said it was God’s will, I nearly decked him. Lily’s funeral was the last time I went to church. I’ve never been a God-botherer, but the very thought of sitting in a pew and praying to a deity who thought it was okay to let my wife go through a slow and painful death was farcical. What a crock of shit.’

  I had to agree with him. I’d seen so much death, most of it long and painful. It didn’t stop me believing in a creator deity behind the beauty and wonder of the world, the universe, but I couldn’t blame that same creator for all the pain and suffering in the world. It was a conundrum that I’d never worked out, and I didn’t try.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Cal.’

  ‘We’re on speaking terms, but that’s about it. He’s one of the reasons I stay away from England. He’s pigheaded about religious stuff.’

  ‘What about your siblings?’

  ‘Well, Leah escaped, as you’ve noticed.’ He flashed a smile.

  ‘Aha, so she won’t return in a hurry?’

  ‘No, she won’t. When I dropped in on her a couple of days ago, she told me she’s nuts about Sean. If she marries him she’ll want the ceremony over here. There’s no way she’d ask Dad to marry them. He’d turn it into a bible-bashing ritual, moralizing about the sanctity of sex in marriage and not before. It wouldn’t be a celebration of two people in love.’

  ‘Weddings should be what the bride and groom want, and damn everybody else.’ Meanwhile, my mind latched onto his father’s embargo on sex before marriage. If Lily had been a God-botherer, what had she believed?

  ‘Your experience?’

  ‘Hm?’ Momentarily distracted, I dragged my head back to the here and now. ‘My wedding? No, not exactly. Our day went well, but the expectations leading up to it were fraught with unexploded land mines.’ I laughed. ‘If I ever marry again, I w
ant a low-key event, no hassles, no bridesmaid dramas and no-one poking their noses in, trying to add guests or air their disappointments. Just me and my man and a handful of witnesses.’

  He grinned. ‘Good luck with that.’

  ‘I can dream….’ I laughed with him. ‘And your other siblings?’

  ‘My other sister, Chloe, is like my mother, but on steroids. She’s a renal surgeon, married, two adorable kids. Her husband, Ross, is a banker. They’re busy and happy. Chloe lives and breathes her work and her family. She also finds time to read, take the kids to sports on the weekends and keep up with friends and just enjoy life. Dad approves up to a point. They get to church once a month. He approves of that, but wishes for more. He hates they employ a nanny for the children.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because he’s quite open in his belief a woman should be at home minding the house and children, while the big, strong husband earns the money. Like I said before, he’s a dinosaur. Chloe just laughs at him when he says anything. Her answer is that God gave her a brain and she’s damn well going to use it, not waste it.’

  ‘Good for her.’ Surely he must hate his own wife working?

  ‘As for my brother, Elijah, he’s a chip off the old block.’ He grimaced. ‘We could almost pass for twins.’ I blinked at this, making him laugh. ‘Yeah, except he has dark hair and is six years older.’ He turned serious. ‘Chloe gave me a head’s up last week. Eli’s just started dating Lily’s sister, Fern. I think the whole family has mixed feelings about it.’

  ‘Complicated?’

  ‘Yeah. Not least because everyone outside the family thought Lily and Eli would have been ideal together.’ He snorted. ‘Not true. He’d have killed her gentle spirit.’

  Whoa. That was bitter.

  ‘Eli is.... What’s he like?’

  He leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees. ‘He’s like my father, in that God’s work comes first and anything else comes last. If he and Lily had married, she’d have died of loneliness. Figuratively speaking,’ he added, seeing my horrified expression. ‘We had a falling out over Lily when her family moved into our street. Eli fancied her as much as I did, and nearly everyone thought she’d choose him and not me. She was three years older than me, but when I asked her out, she said yes. After that Eli didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t speak to me for a couple of years.’

  Rivalry between brothers. Interesting. ‘Why would it have been logical for her to choose Eli?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy. She was always much more religious than I would ever be. That would have suited Eli, but it wouldn’t have made either of them happy.’ He sat back, arms behind his head. ‘Eli’s a senior lecturer in theology at one of the colleges at Oxford. Mum and Dad are both proud of him, but especially Dad, of course. But with Lily, he wouldn’t have spent the time with her. I wanted to spend every spare minute with her, to do everything together and she thrived on that. We both did. Not many couples have that degree of interest in each other.’ He spread his hands with a shrug. ‘Not many couples even want that degree of intimacy.’

  And then she had to die. Poor Cal. Men like Cal are rare. Maybe women like Lily are, too.

  ‘So, what might be a problem with Eli and Fern?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘She’s not at all like Lily. I think it’s because he won’t really love her. He thinks it’s way past time to marry, and she’s Lily’s sister, the closest he can get to a woman he did love.’

  And now I had an unanswerable question. What had been so special about Lily? I mean, two attractive men duking it out over her. She had to have been amazing. I was dying to ask, but held my tongue.

  What about photos?

  ‘Do you have any photos of Lily?’ I spoke without thought, regretting it as soon as the words left my lips. How would seeing Lily make me feel?

  He smiled. ‘Of course, I should have thought of that. Right here.’ He pulled out his phone, sitting next to me, scrolling through photos. ‘This is Leah with Sean.’

  Her smile lit up the photo. A geeky looking guy with sandy hair and glasses stood with his arm around her, and an equally happy smile.

  ‘They look cute together.’

  He nodded absently, flicked through more pictures.

  ‘My parents, Amos and Sarah.’

  A couple stood in the grounds of a picturesque sandstone church, complete with steeple and bell tower. Both his parents were tall and strongly built, although Amos stooped a little, while she stood tall. Sarah had long, dark hair streaked with grey and pulled into an old-fashioned pompadour. Her face was lined but gentle and a little sad. I wondered about that.

  Cal’s father was stern and unyielding. I could picture him delivering hellfire sermons. Facially, Cal looked more like his father, but I guessed favored his mother in personality. Amos had the remnants of a good-looking man, a full head of grey hair, but his stern demeanor was a forbidding throwback to a Victorian era.

  ‘This is Eli.’

  Startled, I turned to Cal, eyes round. It was Cal with dark hair. And no smile.

  ‘You do look alike.’

  ‘That’s where the resemblance ends,’ he said, face sour. ‘If Fern can stick a rocket up his arse and make him smile, then and only then, do I think she can be happy. Otherwise, she’ll spend her life trying, and failing, to please him. That, or she’ll divorce him.’ He sighed and leaned back on the sofa.

  ‘And photos of Lily?’

  He smacked his forehead. ‘Of course.’ He scrolled through again. ‘I only keep a couple on my phone. I don’t want to be too maudlin about her. Here,’ his face softened, ‘this is us on our first wedding anniversary in Italy.’

  Cal and Lily together, arms round each other’s waists.

  They looked happy, glowing. Behind them, the Mediterranean coastline stretched for miles. Lily was stunning. Model stunning. Tall, elegant, blonde, olive-skinned, laughing, carefree and even in this tiny photo, very much in love with her besotted husband. A cream dress clung to a slender figure, her tiny waist, and long slim legs.

  No wonder two brothers had fallen out over her. I wondered how many men had walked into lampposts doing a double-take, or even a triple-take.

  I raised dazed eyes to Cal. ‘I understand a little better. She was very special, wasn’t she?’

  He jerked his chin once, eyes still on the photo. Then he looked at me. ‘You know something?’ He caught my hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m ready for a real person now, to hold someone I love in my arms again, to share my everyday moments with her, to climb into bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms. I want that again.’

  A lump formed at the back of my throat. ‘Me too. One day.’

  Seeing her photo had been unhelpful. A sneaking beast of envy uncoiled itself and in that moment I almost loathed Lily.

  God, what was wrong with me?

  It was my own fault, I’d asked, and now I was sorry. I didn’t dare examine my thoughts. Unable to speak, I squeezed his hand in return, mentally smothering the jealous beast.

  Cal sensed something amiss. ‘I’ve upset you. Oh, Rose, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be, Cal,’ I snuffled, feeling unworthy. ‘I’m jealous of what you had with Lily.’ That much was true, glad I could say it and mean it. ‘You deserve the same again.’

  The lump in my throat had gone. I was being honest with Cal and it felt good. True, I wouldn’t reveal a momentary irrational loathing towards his wife.

  I jumped to my feet.

  ‘You know what? I’m ready for a snack, what about you?’

  ‘You’re hungry?’ His surprise disappeared. ‘Huh, me too. It’s all this talking.’

  ‘Egg on toast? Omelet? Or I have croissants from the bakery early this morning?’

  We settled on omelets and I found out Cal could cook. He put together a mix of eggs, chilies, mushrooms, shaved apple, shaved potato and cubes of blue cheese. By the time we’d finished eating, his focus flagged as jetlag caught up. I cleared
pots, letting him stretch out on the sofa, his eyes drifted closed a few times, long legs dangling over the arm. He’d fallen asleep when I came back from the kitchen. I draped a soft rug over him, amused by his mismatched socks.

  Cross-legged, I sat on the floor near him, watching his face as he slept.

  I could fall in love with him. Maybe I had. I shook my head. There wouldn’t be any point in it. Tomorrow he’d be off to New Zealand, and though he’d hadn’t said it, the country must be a clarion call for him. If all went well, perhaps he’d settle over there with her.

  How did I feel about that? Filled with sadness, head bowed, I underwent a succession of inner battles. Jealousy gouged at me. I hated feeling like a proverbial green-eyed monster. Someone once told me jealousy is a disease. For the first time in my life I got it. Envy ate me up. I had stomach ache, a heavy heart and gut turbulence. It sure felt like an illness.

  My inferiority complex drove me to my feet. I headed for the kitchen to scrub and clean. Washing pots didn’t help much. I peeked out every few minutes to see if he’d stirred. He hadn’t moved.

  I’d told him only hours ago that I wasn't ready for another relationship. I couldn’t figure out now if that had been true. My pot scrubbing slowed while I added a few facts together.

  One fact was undisputable. Cal and I lived for most of the year in different parts of the world. In the space of… what was it… sixteen months, I’d met him three times. It was hardly an ideal basis for a relationship.

  Random fantasies invading my confused brain must be crushed.

  How embarrassing if he knew I’d felt a teensy spark of something other than friendship for him? Flushing, I crept to the living room again and snuck another glance at him. He still slept.

  Thank the universe for something.

  Kitchen duty ended, I curled up in the armchair opposite him, gathering coherent thoughts.

  When I finally stretched and yawned, ready to wake him, I had a plan of action. I’d made a giant leap out of my comfort zone by leaving family, friends and country, it really would only be small steps now to accept casual dates, if they materialized.