by LK Rigel
No matter. They’d build a new family.
“Lily?” the hostess said. “Your date asked you to meet him up at the 12th Floor Bar.” She leaned forward. “That’s a good-looking guy you have there.”
“It’s true,” Lilith said with a grin. “He’s much prettier than I am.”
Riding up in the elevator, the image of the beautiful young woman at the Bistro stayed with her. Jenna Sarumen, the boss’s daughter. Greg had mentioned that she was a brand new lawyer and had been assigned to the same case. He hadn’t said how fantastic she looked. Lilith wasn’t a petty person, but she was really glad Jenna Sarumen was getting married.
Everyone in the world was getting married it seemed, the grand and the aspiring grand. She’d let Greg know his boss was in the house—after she opened her little blue box.
Greg was in the lounge watching the lights come on in the valley below, a desert version of fairyland. He really was prettier than Lilith. Like a modern day Prince Charming, he had sandy blond hair highlighted with white-blond streaks. He was tanned and brown-eyed and had a firm jaw and caressable cheekbones and oh-so-kissable lips. Greg didn’t like public displays of affection, but Lilith bent over his back to give him a light peck on the cheek.
“This is much more romantic than the Bistro,” she murmured in his ear. She loved the feel of his muscular shoulders, the smell of his skin. If this dinner weren’t so special, she’d suggest they get a room right this minute.
There were two drinks on the cocktail table, his familiar scotch rocks, half gone, and a glass of white wine.
“Pinot grigio, right?” Greg finished his drink in one gulp. He caught the server’s eye and raised his empty glass.
“My favorite.” Lilith sat down and sipped the cold wine. It was very good, but she thought wistfully of the champagne Jenna Sarumen was having downstairs. Never mind. Jenna’s fiancé couldn’t possibly be as handsome or smart or thoughtful as Greg. Greg probably meant to order champagne at dinner.
“Lily, I need to tell you something, and there’s no good way to do it.” He took an envelope out of his suit jacket and played with it nervously, shuffling it back and forth between his hands.
“You can tell me anything, sweetie. You know that.”
“Oh, god.”
The server brought another round, and Greg put down the envelope and drained the scotch.
Lilith swallowed hard. “What is it, Greg? You’re scaring me.”
“Lily, you’re a wonderful woman.”
Her heart felt like it was going to compress to the size of a walnut. You’re a wonderful woman could only be followed by one word: but.
“But there’s someone else. I’ve fallen in love with…someone else. We’re going to be married.”
She couldn’t breathe. A sledgehammer must have slammed into her chest. She stared at Greg’s glass, the melting ice, the condensed moisture on the cocktail table. Something obstructed her vision, something white waving in front of her face.
The envelope.
“This is for you.” Greg spread her clinched fingers apart and put the envelope in her hand. “Take it.”
She could not care less about the envelope, but she tore it open just to give her hands something to do. The man she loved, the man she’d given her heart to…what was he saying to her? He ran his fingers through his hair. So uncomfortable, and still so gorgeous. “When?”
“What? Oh, today. I moved out of the apartment while you were at work. I thought it would be easier.”
“When did you betray me? When did you get tired of living off me?”
“I feel terrible, Lily. But I owe it to my family to marry well. My father…”
“Your family?” But he loved her! Her hands shook. In the pit of her stomach, apart from the shock, hot anger bubbled, contained in a tiny bead of light. “Your family abandoned you. I put you through law school. I supported you these last three years. Slept with you. Loved you. What do you owe me?”
“I’m so sorry.”
She stared at the paper in her hands. A check for fifty thousand dollars made out to Lilith Evergreen. Remittance advice: repayment, 3 yrs rm + board.
“Remittance advice?” She scoffed. “You’re definitely a lawyer now. What is this?”
“My trust fund has been released.” He spread his hands and laughed like a surprised spoiled kid. “The prodigal son is welcomed home.”
What joy! A miracle. He had no idea how betrayed she felt, how angry. The bead of hot light in her gut grew to the size of a golf ball.
“But Lily, I didn’t want you to…I wanted to make things right.”
A jumble of thoughts assaulted her. Marry well. Trust fund. Great gods, he was rich all this time. What other lies had he told her? She reached for more wine, and her ring caught her eye. The simple gold band. Love everlasting. She struggled to pull it off, but it was stuck. The golf ball of rage increased to hardball size.
“Tell me something, Greg. Why did you bother giving me this?” She held the back of her hand up to his face.
“I…I don’t know. It was weird. Jenna was in a hurry to get to St. James Church. We’d just passed an antique dealer’s stall on the Piccadilly side.”
“Jenna. You were with Jenna Sarumen in London—looking at churches.”
“She likes Wren’s architecture.” His face went red. Jenna…the champagne! Greg was going to marry the boss’s daughter. The hardball in Lilith’s stomach became a basketball. Her solar plexus and lungs pulsated with raging light.
“I saw something shiny out of the corner of my eye,” Greg said, “and a voice in my head said for Lily. I knew it meant you. I made Jenna wait while I bought it.”
So proud. As if he’d done a noble thing.
“Go away.” It was hard to draw enough breath to speak. “And take your guilt money.” Lilith threw the check at him. She forced herself to breathe deeply to calm the fury about to burst out of her.
The check landed in Greg’s lap. He picked it up with a faint smile. The little dimple in his cheek, the one that had always been so endearing, taunted her. “Jenna wanted me to give this to you.”
Bastard.
A gleam lit his eyes. He loved to win. Lilith saw that now. He loved winning more than anything. More than anybody. “I knew you would refuse.”
Bastard, bastard, bastard. She lost it. The raging ball of light exploded inside her. Was this what a ruptured appendix felt like?
“Give me that.” Lilith snatched the check away as a loud crunching sound filled the bar. A crack spread across the width of the picture window, and Greg jumped out of his chair.
“What the—?” He gaped at Lilith as if she’d caused the crack.
Impossible, of course. But it had happened in such synch with her exploding rage, that they did feel connected.
“Oh, Greg, don’t be an idiot. A poor bird must have flown into a flaw in the glass.” His fear and confusion were satisfying. “Get out, Greg. Go to Jenna. I’m sure you’ll be very beautiful together.”
“I’m sorry, Lily.”
“It’s Lilith. And no, you’re not sorry.”
Greg walked away and didn’t look back. Lilith had the presence of mind to slip the check into her wallet as the bar manager asked if she was okay.
No, she wasn’t hurt. (False, but true the way he meant it.) No, she didn’t want a drink on the house. (True.)
The last bit of orange sun disappeared below the horizon, and the valley lights twinkled under the darkening sky. But the fairytale had moved. Prince Charming was downstairs, handing a little blue box to a real princess.
The second glass of wine Greg had ordered was still full. Lilith left it untouched and drove home. She collapsed on her bed and cried until she felt dehydrated. The old loneliness was already creeping in. For three years she’d lived for Greg, taken care of him, thought of not
hing but what he needed. She had gladly put her empty life aside to live his. Now she was adrift again, didn’t belong anywhere or to anyone.
But she had to ask herself: was it love or mere need that had motivated her? Had she been fooling herself? She was devastated by Greg’s betrayal—but because she loved him? Or because she was afraid of being alone again?
She opened her top dresser drawer and took out the wooden box that held her mother’s necklace. The box was the far prettier object, handmade of blackthorn and carved with morning glories. The necklace was a choker, crocheted or macraméd of plain brown cord with glass beads woven into the design.
Don’t touch it! The one time her mother had raised her voice to Lilith—to anyone, as far as Lilith knew. Never touch it! She had opened the door just after Lilith discovered the necklace and was about to try it on. The box keeps it safe. Lilith never understood why her mother cared so much. She never wore it. Lilith lifted it from the box and caressed the cord and beads. She didn’t put it on, but it was a comfort to hold something that connected her to someone. She fell asleep with her fingers laced through its weave.
In her dream, she was inside the castle. It was filled with people, intact, lit by festive torches and candles. A banquet was taking place in the great hall below. A tenor sang somewhere accompanied by a harp or lute. It must be Greg’s and Jenna’s wedding banquet, but that couldn’t be right.
Lilith descended a stone staircase. On the wall facing her, a magnificent tapestry depicted a king on a hill and a cloaked woman beside him, her arms raised and outstretched. She faced a gathering of people whose hands were raised to her in the same manner. With the awareness that comes in dreams, Lilith knew the woman had done something wonderful, and this tapestry celebrated the deed.
“Lilith Evergreen.” A woman stared at Lilith from the landing below. She had intense blue eyes. The hood of her black robe was thrown back, and she had straw-blond hair. She gave the impression of great age, but she looked only nineteen or twenty.
“Elyse?” Lilith knew her name but couldn’t remember who she was.
“Tintagos waits for you.” Elyse stretched her right hand toward Lilith. She wore a ring exactly like Lilith’s but made of silver.
Lilith’s hand lurched forward, as if the two rings were desperate to be together. She lost her footing and pitched forward in dreamy slow-motion. She startled awake, sitting up in her bed, but she couldn’t shake the sense of falling.
Still half asleep, she returned her mother’s necklace to its box. The dream hovered at the edge of her consciousness, waiting for her to close her eyes. The thought of lying down again made her dizzy.
It was still the middle of the night, but it was daytime in the United Kingdom. She went into the living room where she’d left her bag and dug out the brochure. She called the number to book a place on the tour of the Tintagos Castle ruins.
“Oh, my dear. You should have called the first day,” the woman on the line said. “I’ve been full up since the announcement. There isn’t a room to be let in the village.”
“But Elyse said Tintagos is waiting for me.” The words just popped out of Lilith’s mouth.
“Did you say Elyse sent you?”
“I…I guess she did.”
“One moment.” The line went silent.
She must be dreaming still. The woman came back on. “I have that reservation. Lilith Evergreen, arriving on the 19th.”
“But I didn’t reserve a room.”
“Then perhaps Elyse did.” The woman laughed as if she’d cracked a joke. “Dear, I can fill the room in the blink of an eye. Do you want it or not?”
The 19th, three days away. “I’ll take it.”
It made no sense, but it was the most lucid dream Lilith had ever had. It felt real. She wrote the information down on a notepad before going back to bed. When she awoke again hours later, her notes were still there.
2
Prince of Her Dreams
Thanks to Greg’s guilt money, Lilith booked a lovely upper class flight—on Virgin; it seemed symbolic. She blew another big chunk of his cash in London to stay at the Dorchester on Park Lane. That was a mistake.
Not spending the money—Greg’s money felt like a gift from a bad fairy; she had to spend it, and fast, to keep it from doing mischief—but the legendary Dorchester was wasted on such a short stay. Her room was larger than her and Greg’s entire apartment in Indio. The bathroom was bigger than their kitchen.
No. Forget that thinking. There was no her-and-Greg’s anything now.
After almost falling asleep in the deep bathtub, Lilith dried off and wrapped the luxurious hospitality robe around her body. A bottle of champagne nested in a silver ice bucket on a table in the corner of her room. She poured a glass, feeling a little sorry for herself. Outside her windows, the lush treetops of Hyde Park were like a painting in the early evening light.
Sunlight seemed to last longer here. Was it because London’s latitude was different than that of the California desert? She wished she could talk about it with someone. She was lonely for Greg.
No, that wasn’t it. She pressed the flute of cool champagne against her cheek and watched the traffic on Park Lane. It wasn’t Greg she missed. He hadn’t been decent company for a long time. She’d never had really good company. Would she recognize it if it came along?
Growing up, she’d had no friends. Her mother had always been so nervous about other people coming to their apartment, and she practically freaked when Lilith went to someone else’s house. There had been two boyfriends in college after her mother died. The sex had been fun, but she’d never truly connected to either guy. She’d treated them the only way she knew how to treat another person—she took care of them. She did their laundry and shopping and the research for their class assignments.
Both of them had wandered away to other girls, girls who knew how to play, and Lilith hadn’t minded. Just like she didn’t mind with Greg. Oh, she minded the humiliation, the embarrassment, the betrayal. But she didn’t mind that he was gone. Greg had stuck with her, she now realized, not because he liked her but because he liked the caretaking she offered. She missed him no more than he missed her. She couldn’t miss something she’d never had. Joy. Pleasure. A life.
She put down the champagne. Her circadian rhythms were messed up. She was exhausted, actually. Not from the last two days, but from the last three years. Greg was never right for her. She saw that now. She’d spent those years learning all about him and had never revealed anything of herself. He couldn’t have guessed she was interested in latitudes and sunlight.
She crawled into the brocade-curtained four-poster bed. Great gods, it was comfortable. This could be the start, couldn’t it? The beginning of a new way. She closed her eyes and made a vow: from now on, she’d take better care of herself.
She raised her head off the pillow and listened. Strange harp music—maybe a lute—played somewhere, a familiar tune. She went out into the hall and followed the sound down the corridor to a stone staircase on the right. There was the tapestry again, the woman and the king on the hill.
Lilith was late to the wedding banquet. She didn’t want to go. It was the wrong wedding. The wrong bride. And she was dressed in her nightgown. But the music called to her like a charm. Halfway down the stairs, she tripped and pitched forward. Again. This time she was going to hit the landing.
But a man caught her.
“Have a care! You might break your lovely neck.”
He steadied her and caressed her cheek with gentle concern in his dark brown eyes. He was dressed in white satin and blue velvet like a prince in a fairytale. She shifted so that his hands slipped from her arms down to her waist. She ran her fingernails over the skin of his neck. He smiled, and hunger and heat welled up inside her. She wanted him. She wanted sex.
She pressed him against the corner, and his smile broadened. Their lips
met, and his tongue pushed into her mouth. An ache of memory washed over her, laced with the thrill of desire. He felt so familiar. She nudged his hand toward her breast, and when he moved his thumb over the nipple she knew he was hers.
He opened her nightgown, and his fingers brushed against her skin as he eased the fabric aside. He kissed her ear and her throat and moved down to her bared shoulder.
She whispered, “I’m in agony for you.”
He lifted her chin and searched her face, his expression a mass of pain and desire. “We’ve waited for so long.” He spun her around and pushed her against the wall, covering her shoulders and breasts with kisses.
She ran her fingers through his hair—then gasped and pulled back. Her own hair had fallen forward over her face—but it wasn’t her light brown hair. It was waist-length and pale blond. She twisted away from the prince.
He cried “No!” and faded away.
Lilith woke to sunlight streaming into her room. It was close to noon, and she flew out of bed and threw her things into her suitcase. She’d requested a late checkout, but it was going to be tight. As the taxi driver took her luggage, she offered to share with two other people going to the train station. The London air felt wonderful compared with the dry desert. She felt alive and free. Happy.
At Paddington Station, she’d despaired of finding her train when someone touched her elbow. “Are you lost, dear?” Lilith turned and almost stepped on a short middle-aged woman with twinkling blue eyes.
“I’m looking for the train to Dumnos.”
“That’s my train,” the woman said. “I have an inn at Tintagos Village.”
“I wonder if we spoke on the phone. Is it the Tragic Fall Inn?” Lilith said.
“You’re Lilith Evergreen, then. I’m Marion. I thought I might see you on the train.”
As Lilith shifted the weight of her handbag, Marion grabbed her right hand. She turned it to get a good look at her ring. “Now that’s quite nice. Family heirloom?”
