Me Tarzan, You Jane

by Camelia Miron Skiba

  Ella runs to me and I catch her in my arms and lift her. “You need to wait for me inside, sugar pea.”

  “I’m hungry. Can we hab ice cream now?”

  “After lunch, sure we can.”

  She points a finger at Lucas. “Is mister sir Lucas coming with us?”

  I open my mouth to reply, but Lucas is faster. “Not today, Ella Rae, I’m sorry. How about today you go with your mommy and daddy and we go another time. What do you think?”

  Ella bows her head, picking at her fingernail. I know this face and my heart aches for her. I want to say something but my throat closes in like elevator’s doors.

  “Does Daddy eat ice cream in heaben, Mommy?”

  “I’m pretty sure he does,” I manage, grimacing at Lucas. I can tell he’s surprised by Ella’s question, but I don’t have time to deal with him. He reaches for Ella, but I shake my head and walk away. “Let’s pick up your stuff and go see Grams. She made lunch for us.”

  “Is it ice cream?”

  Chapter 9

  My reflection in the airplane’s window casts a tired face, brown hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and Ella’s legs crossed over mine. Despite having her own seat, she didn’t want to sleep by herself. I didn’t sleep the night before we left and I didn’t sleep during this flight, which means I’m beyond exhausted.

  It’s dark when we land in Paris. Backpack and purse strapped over my shoulder, I’m ready to get off the plane, holding Ella in my arms. She’s not completely asleep, but not awake either. By the time I find our bags my arms are about to fall off. I put Ella down and she’s not happy, communicating only through gestures. With a thumb in her mouth she trots next to me, Snow White in her purple backpack and Cinderella in her arms.

  “Would you like to hop in the cart?” I offer.

  A headshake is my only clue she doesn’t.

  People rush by us, but Ella walks slower than a snail. We stop at a souvenir store, then at the next. Gawking at toys, lights and Christmas decorations delay us further. She needs a bathroom break, and I see a line of five women and two girls ahead of us. I’m worried the driver might take off if we don’t show up soon, but we finally make it into the waiting area.

  Bernard told me I’d recognize the driver by the sign he holds with my name on it. He also told me the driver doesn’t speak English but he knows where to take us. I see the sign with my name in capital letters, but not any driver.

  Lucas holds it.

  “Mister Sir Lucas!” Ella drops Cinderella and runs, throwing herself at Lucas, who scoops her in his arms and twirls her in the air. The sign is crumpled under his armpit, and people smile at the two of them.

  I don’t have time to react to her taking off like this without any warning, too shocked at seeing Lucas. My exhaustion is replaced by nervousness mixed with anger at myself for not anticipating his presence in Paris. Of course he’d be here with Madame V. That’s what couples do, spend holidays together, don’t they?

  I stop the cart next to Lucas. “Where’s the driver?”

  “Merry Christmas to you too, Jane,” Lucas replies with a smile from one ear to the other.

  “Merry Christmas,” I say, resigned my daughter deserted me for a handsome devil, so darn good looking in dark jeans and white hoodie jacket with a slanted zipper on the right side. Ella pulls the zipper up and down as if it’s the best toy ever. “Here’s your doll, sugar pea.” I hope my daughter takes it and leaves the zipper alone, but my attempt fails. She squeezes Cinderella somehow between her and Lucas and zips up and down, unperturbed.

  “It doesn’t bother me,” Lucas says. I’m about to roll my eyes, but catch myself.

  Of course it doesn’t bother him. He’s not the parent here. I am and now I have to be the bad cop since he gave his blessing. That alone tells me what an incapable parent he’d be one day. The mom will do all the hard work while he’d be the friend-type parent, letting his kids dance on the table if they so darn please.

  “Okay, that’s enough, Ella,” I say, aggravated because I wasted yet another neuron thinking of Lucas and his life. Who cares what kind of a parent he’d be? “We need to go. Mister Lucas will take us to the hotel, right mister Lucas?”

  Before Lucas has the chance to answer Ella asks, “Can you do magic, mister sir Lucas?”

  “Magic? You want magic?” He scrunches his brows and tips his head sideways. He brings a fist up closer to her mouth. “Blow over twice.” When Ella blows, he says, “One more time. With more force.”

  She puffs her cheeks then blows. With her chubby little fingers she pries Lucas’s fist open. “It’s empty!”

  “Hmm. Where did that go? Wait. What’s this?” He reaches in her pocket and takes out a hard candy, which Ella unwraps and shoves in her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she sings.

  He steers the cart away still holding Ella. I fall into the same relaxed pace as he says, “How was your trip? Was the plane busy? Did you sleep?”

  I’m not sure if he talks to me or to Ella, who finally lost interest in the zipper and now looks around, content in Lucas’s arms.

  I decide to put aside my old resentment toward Lucas. Nothing should keep me from being cordial and that’s what I need to focus on, being cordial and enjoying Paris.

  “All good. Really busy, but Ella slept the entire time.”

  We enter the elevator with several other tourists and carts.

  “How about you?” Lucas’s arm touches mine and I’m so aware of his close presence I have a tough time focusing. His cologne is subtle but there’s a stronger smell near by, I think from the older lady in front of us, whose expensive fur coat and hairdo smothers me.

  He elbows me and looks sideways, repeating slowly, “Did you sleep?”

  “Me? Oh, I didn’t.”

  The elevator stops and everyone exits, including us. I follow Lucas to a second row of cars, all the way to the other end of the covered parking. The air prickles my skin and I’m glad I have my black, down-feather jacket zipped up and tight around me. Ella cuddles in Lucas’s arms crossing her arms under her chin.

  “I’m c-c-cold,” she announces.

  “Here, push this.” Lucas gives me the cart. He wraps his arms around Ella, hurrying up the pace.

  She squeaks and giggles. “Mister sir Lucas, you’re squeezing me too hard.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Ella Rae,” Lucas mumbles. “I didn’t mean to. I . . . I’m not used to holding little girls.”

  “It’s okay, mister sir Lucas. You didn’t hurt me.”

  “Ella, why do you call mister Lucas ‘mister sir Lucas?’ Correct is mister Lucas, right?”

  “Yes, but,” Ella shrugs and spreads both palms up in the air, “he doesn’t hab a middle name like I do. That’s why.”

  Lucas pulls a key out of his pocket, pressing on it, and chuckling loudly. “You’re funny, Ella Rae.” The trunk to a white pearl Escalade pops open as the engine roars to life. “Can I tell you a secret?” At Ella’s nod, Lucas touches her forehead with his and says, “I do have a middle name. It’s Mason. Now let’s get you in the car before you freeze.”

  He sets her in the back seat as I lift the first bag in the trunk. Lucas is next to me before I grab the second one. “Get in. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks.” I don’t wait for a second invitation. It’s blistering cold. I hop in the front passenger seat, looking over at Ella, who’s strapped in a car seat, sucking her thumb. She smiles and says without pulling it out, “Hi, mommy.”

  “Hi, sweet pea. Are you tired?”

  Ella shakes her head.

  I predict she’ll be asleep before we exit the airport. Lucas joins us, claps twice and rubs his hands together, shrugging like a bear. “Gosh, it’s cold.” The heaters blast full on and jazz music pours over the radio. “Good?” He looks at me.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  We pull out of the parking lot and after Lucas stops to pay, we’re on our way to the city. He spends part of the drive on the phone
and as much as I try not to eavesdrop, I can tell he’s talking to a woman, not Madame V, but someone else. He makes breakfast plans with this woman to talk business followed by a visit to her office. His voice turns seductive and I grow irritated with him. Yeah, I imagine what that office might be or what business is done there. How can he do this to Madame V? Does he have no shame? Granted she brought this upon herself, getting involved with a player and a much younger guy, but no woman deserves to be cheated on.

  I guess decency is another quality Lucas Oliver misses from his morals.

  I’m curious why he came instead of the real driver and how far we have to drive, but the music and the warmth lull me into a state of laziness while I stare out the window into the darkness. We drive the freeway or autoroute as they’re called here, quite a long ways and I struggle to stay awake. Tiredness makes me feel nauseous. I can hardly wait to crawl in bed. I must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing I know Lucas wakes me up, squeezing my shoulder.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re here.”

  I stretch and look out the window to see the car parked in front of a brick house, not a hotel. “Um, this I not a hotel.”

  “Nope. It’s not. Didn’t Bernard tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Lucas gets out of the car and I follow him. Snowflakes fall and wet my face and I blink fast to see him taking my bags up the few stairs.

  “Viv wanted you closer. There’s a snowstorm forecasted and she didn’t want to risk not getting you in time from the hotel. This is the guesthouse on her property.”

  “I asked you earlier if you were taking us to a hotel.”

  “Guesthouse, hotel, why does it matter?” He opens the front door, takes the bags into the hallway, then returns. “Get in. I’ll bring Ella.”

  Okay. Guesthouse. I can handle this. I can see and smell the fire in the living room, a square room with white sofas and love seats, lots of oil paintings with animals on dark cherry painted walls, and a few coffee tables. It’s all I see for now from the doorway where I wait for Lucas to bring my daughter in. I close the door behind him once he’s inside. I follow him down the hallway then into another one. He enters the second to the last room and stops in front of a queen-size bed. A silver nightstand lamp casts opaque light over the room, coquette furnished with birch wood and copper decorations.

  Still holding Ella he says, “You wanna pull the covers?”

  I throw all but one pillow off the bed and remove the silky lavender covers. The bed deepens when he sets one knee on the mattress and lays Ella down. He helps me remove Ella’s coat, shawl and boots, all with infinite gentleness, so gentle she doesn’t wake up. I would’ve never pictured this.

  Lucas sits on the bed staring at Ella, sleeping on her side, legs bent, and both hands under her cheek. He measures one of her purple boots against his palm. “So small,” he chuckles. “Great kiddo you have here.” Without another word he gets up and leaves only to return carrying my bags.

  “This door here takes you to a shared bathroom and on the other side to your room. He’s already on the other side of the bathroom and I follow, glancing at the modern interior with a walk-in shower, a bathtub, and two sinks all covered in black granite with copper specks. My room is bigger than Ella’s with a walnut king-size bed, tons of decorative pillows in shades of blue and a white comforter. There’s an electric fireplace on the opposite wall from the bed with a TV above it. He sets my bags atop a bench at the foot of the bed.

  “Thank you for all your help,” I say, eager to see Lucas gone.

  “You’re welcome. Let me show you the rest of the house.”

  “It’s okay.” I point to the door for him to get the clue. “I’ll figure things out in the morning. I’m really tired.”

  Lucas stops in the doorway, smirking, one eyebrow cocked. “As you wish, but I warn you. I sleep naked. Just in case you decide to wander around the house in the middle of the night and walk in on me. I’m at the other end of the hallway.”

  Chapter 10

  My left side feels numb, as if I haven’t moved at all. The pressure in my ears makes me feel as if I’m in a fishbowl and the image alone makes me smile. I stretch and wiggle my toes then rub my arm and shoulder. Love it when I sleep in, pulling the covers over my head and snoozing a bit longer.

  Ella.

  In my eagerness to get out of the bed I almost fall, caught in the striped white and blue bed sheets. She’s not in the bathroom or her room and the bed is rumpled. Rushing down the hallway I pass every single door—all open, except the one that must be Lucas’s.

  Brightness inundates the living room and I blink fast to adjust to the outpouring light. A Christmas tree stands in a corner with lots of colorful wrapped presents underneath. Last night I must’ve been way too tired to observe it. One quick glance in the kitchen sends me into frantic mode. No signs of Ella.

  I rush to Lucas’s door and knock. “Lucas?” I knock harder, swing the door open but no one answers.

  My boots. I need my boots to go search for Ella. I bolt in and out of my room, pulling my boots on and rushing through the entry door. The door is unlocked. I never leave my door unlocked, a safety measure for Ella’s curious nature, always wandering around like the entire planet belongs to her.

  “Ella? Ella, where are you?” My screams bounce off the snow, coming back and suffocating me. Adrenaline zips through my body giving me hot flashes. Why did I sleep so long? Why didn’t she wake me as she usually does? Where could she be?

  The Escalade is not in the driveway, which means Lucas left for his breakfast appointment. I run around the house, sheltered in the back by thick fir trees. The estate is so large I can’t even see a fence or a gate anywhere nearby. There’s an impressive castle with turrets atop a hill, diagonally from the guesthouse, with a water pond in front of it. The pond seems frozen, but the closer I get, I realize water blotches its surface here and there. I pray Ella didn’t fall in.

  “Ella! Ella!” I scream so loud a cough attack stops me from screaming again. I need to call Bernard. I wish I’d kept Lucas’s cell number; now it might’ve been a lifesaver. My phone, I need my cell. I run back toward the house when I hear something. It’s faint and comes from behind the house, I think, but I hold my breath, praying I’m not imagining it.

  The sound gets louder and soon I can distinguish a scratch as if something is dragged. A sled, it must be a sled and when I veer around the corner I see Lucas running, pulling someone behind him. Bundled in a gray blanket on the sled is Ella. He stops momentarily then screams, “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Me out of my mind?” I scream back and run at the same time, the icy air slicing the back of my throat like razors on raw skin. I cannot believe he just said that. I run toward them, my breath coming out in quick steam, madder than a cornered lion.

  He comes to a halt in front of me and I’m so hysterical, I throw myself at him, my fists pounding on his black jacket. “You bastard, how dare you take her without asking me? Don’t you ever do this to me! Do you have any idea how scared I was when she was gone?”

  “Calm down.” He catches my wrists, his green eyes so intense, I forget why I’m hitting him. “Calm down.” He puts his jacket around my shoulders and squeezes them. “Not in front of Ella.”

  It didn’t happen.

  Someone please tell me that I didn’t just have a meltdown in front of my daughter. My breath is jagged when I peek over at her and see only two big blue eyes. The rest of her face is covered with the purple shawl Mom knitted for her along with a matching bonnet and gloves. She doesn’t move, only blinks fast as if on the brink of crying.

  “Honey pea, I’m sorry.” My knees freeze when I sink in the snow although I feel as if my insides and throat have combusted. “Mommy was very scared. I’m sorry.”

  Ella nods, tears landing in the shawl drawn over her nose.

  “You wanna go inside? Have some hot milk with honey, maybe?” I hope there’s milk in the fridge. If not I’ll go f
ind a cow and milk it myself to give my daughter the promised treat.

  Ella nods again and I get up, my knees so painful, I bend to rub them. Lucas steers the sled toward the house. I walk next to Ella, not wanting to say another word to him. I’m furious not only because he took her without letting me know, but because I lost control in front of her. I never lose control in front of my daughter. Never. The yelling and screaming happens late at night when she’s asleep. My pillows receive all my screams, my tears, my pounding. She never sees me angry. And now? Look what a crazy scene I made. How am I going to repair it?

  Arriving in front of the house I bend to pick up Ella, my teeth chattering. “C-c-come on, sugar pea. We’re here.”

  “I want Lucas.”

  And I’m about to have another meltdown. I managed to scare my own daughter so much she refuses my embrace.

  Lucas picks her up and walks inside. I drag my boots up the stairs, closing the door behind me. Before I reach to undress Ella she holds her arms up toward Lucas, clearly wanting him to help her take her gloves off. Not only does Lucas help her, but he removes her shawl, bonnet, coat and boots as well.

  I’m a helpless spectator, wanting nothing more than to cry my heart out. My teeth rattling fills my brain, but I can’t stop it, nor am I capable of moving. The rush of heat caused by the adrenaline overdose is now gone and the aftermath leaves me cold, jittery and drained.

  “There.” Lucas ruffles Ella’s curls. “Go open one of the presents then Mommy will get you a cup of milk, okay?”

  Ella looks at me, scrunching her thin sandy eyebrows. “Okay.” And off she runs to the Christmas tree picking the largest box and tearing off its wrap.

  I can’t see what’s in it because Lucas drags me down the hallway into my room. He removes his jacket off my shoulders then walks into the bathroom and almost immediately I hear water running. He grabs my upper arm and again drags me, stopping in front of the shower. It’s steaming up fast. He walks about the room pulling copper towels and a matching bathrobe, placing them on a hook outside the walk-in shower.