by Chloe Liese
Kai smiled faintly, patting my face, which I shoved off. My brother dealt with, I turned my attention to my feet as I focused on making it to the perimeter of the room as directly as possible, rather than weaving through the tables all the way to the loo. Once there I bumped right into Nairne in the side vestibule where the loos were, looking panicked.
“All right?” I stopped, frowning at her. “You look like someone just told you the referendum bill on Scottish independence got the boot.”
Nairne rolled her eyes. “The bill on the independence referendum did just get the boot.”
“Settle, then, I was only trying to make you laugh.” I turned to face her fully. “Anything I can do?”
She did laugh then, but it was tinged with anxiety. “No, nothing.” She was acting odd, meaning quite likely it had something to do with Elodie. My heart leaped into my throat.
“Is she here?” I asked quietly.
Nairne suddenly set her hand on her stomach. “Oof, too much pasta before we came. Need the lavvy. Excuse me, Lucas.”
I sighed. That meant yes.
Nairne paused outside the door and glanced over her shoulder at me. “Were you on your way for a refill?”
“No. And what’s that to do with anything?”
Nairne smiled tightly. “Just to be on the safe side, I’d indulge. Get yourself a fresh g-and-t and park your arse before dinner’s served.”
“Why?”
She winked and shoved open the lavatory door. “Nature calls. Laters.”
Nairne was up to something, and now that I thought about it, Zed coming to me at the eleventh hour, all but begging I come to the gala…those two troublemakers had to be making mischief. So against the better interest of my coordination, I got another gin and tonic, this time how Elodie liked it—extra gin, a mere splash of tonic, and three wedges of lime.
As I dropped into my seat, I caught Zed’s eye and gave him an almighty scowl. Doing a double take, his eyes widened, but then he winked and turned around. I had half a mind to sneak a shot of whiskey—which he hated—in his wine when he wasn’t looking, but before I could pursue it further, a murmur of voices commenced, and I turned to see the source of their interest.
And then my heart broke freshly open, as none other than Elodie Bertrand sat gracefully down at the Steinway on the center platform, adjusted the microphone, and upended my world again.
She looked different, and yet, like a flower bloomed fully, I recognized the bud of her beauty. Her long silk gown draped over her body, revealing a somewhat less curvaceous frame. Maybe she really was sick, as I’d worried. No matter that she wasn’t as luscious as I was accustomed to, the gown’s cream color jumped against her forever golden skin. Her hair was braided and pinned back magnificently, all bleached streaks and chestnut curls entwined together like spun gold and bronze.
She was an absolute goddess.
Her fingers moved easily over the keys, and I was hurtled back to the night this all began, when she coaxed my heart to hope, to give us a chance. Christ, she’d been so brave, so loving and patient with me. Insistent and proud of what she believed I’d be able to do, the life we would have. And all I’d done was slowly slip deeper and deeper into despair. How could she ever forgive me? How could I earn her trust and hope again?
If I managed to fix this with her, there’d be music every day. When I was blinder than blind, I would sit and play with her. I would live and have joy with her. I would love her well. God, what I would give for it.
Elodie’s voice flowed through the microphone, soft and warm like a hot toddy and a crackling fire. Chills raced up my spine, making the hairs on my arms and neck stand up. I had to swallow the irrepressible urge to go right up there and slip my hands along the edge of her golden shoulder, grasp that vibrating throat and feel its resonance.
People gasped as they heard her singing. Her eyes were pinned shut, flickering open only once or twice as she glanced at the keys. It was effortlessly beautiful, the sound of wind rushing through trees, the warmth of sunshine on my face—pure and lovely.
She finished on a quiet, haunting note, and before people could even begin clapping, she riffed right into a new song. The gesture pointedly clarified that this wasn’t a performance, but an ambience, a feeling and experience for everyone to bask in as they dined and settled in for the evening.
A hand touched me, and I startled. When I turned, I saw it was Mum, her eyes glistening with tears. “Luc,” she whispered. “Have you ever heard something so beautiful?”
I shook my head. What could I say? My eyes went back to Elodie as she sat on that bench, playing from her heart. We watched her, and as her hands danced over the keys, light caught her ring. She still wore it.
’Course she’s still wearing it. She loves you. You’re the one who left her.
Yes, to become someone who deserved the gift that she was.
Food was served, and people gradually began to turn toward their food, but as I glanced around the room, as far as my depth of sight allowed me, I saw person after person riveted, beaming and moved by her ability to paint emotion, infuse sentiment into each strike on a key, the duration of her pitch.
Hardly hungry, I leaned back in my seat, ignoring my food and letting my eyes drift shut as her voice and hands revealed the heart of every song. Prominent in some numbers, subtler in others, themes of hope, tenacity, the power of an identity rooted in optimism, regardless the circumstances, colored every piece. After a solid hour of playing and singing, sometimes weaving in improvised ties to Debussy and Chopin, she started an upbeat number.
Regina laughed as she smiled. “Oh, I love this song. She makes it sound happier, though.”
Kai turned toward her. “Why do you like it?” He watched her cautiously, trying to mask his interest and not come on too strong. Regina would have to be daft not to recognize he obviously had eyes for her, though.
True to form, she blushed furiously. “Erm, well, I was a bit of a late bloomer, and I was rather insecure. It made me feel like I should like myself for who I was, have friends who liked me for me rather than who some might want me to be.”
I turned my gaze back to Elodie, keeping a half ear on Kai and Gina’s conversation.
“Late bloomer? This song’s what maybe four, five years old?” Kai said.
“Closet Aguilera fan, Mr. Edwards?” she asked.
She didn’t sound like that when she called me Mr. Edwards, I could tell you that.
I caught Kai shrugging as he rubbed his neck. His tell for embarrassment. “I dunno, it was just a really big song. But, hold that, late bloomer. How old were you when it came out?” He picked up his old fashioned, taking a measured sip.
She smiled coyly. “Seventeen.”
Kai sputtered on his drink. “You’re only twenty-two?”
Gina just smiled again. “Yes, but it’s not polite to ask a lady her age, Mr. Edwards—”
“Kai, please,” he choked. “God, you make me feel like a skeevy plonker, calling me that and you being twenty-two.”
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “I can’t see you being much older.”
“He is.” I leaned in, smiling cheerily. “He was thirty this August.”
Gina’s eyes widened before she turned back to Kai, who glared daggers at me. “Really?” she said. “You don’t look old.”
I laughed, fixing my attention on Elodie, who was demolishing the verse, her voice sparkling and husky as she sang her vendetta against me. That might sound egotistical, but the words spoke for themselves.
To all your friends you're delirious, so consumed in all your doom, trying hard to fill the emptiness.
Her voice throbbed with heartache and hurt, her face forlorn as she sang every word from memory. God, she was going to undo me. What was I saying? She already had. Long, long ago. And from the way she sang, poured her pain into the words and music, I’d say I’d undone her too. But what of the future? The answer to that was unknown, and I was terrified.
; By the end, she was bringing down the fucking house, with nearly everyone singing with her. When she ended, she stood, blowing a single two-handed kiss to us all, smiling wide as her eyes shone, before she stepped off the stage. Seeing her face full on nearly gave me a coronary—those deep dimples, those lips that I’d dreamed of innumerably. But her sapphire eyes glittered not just under the spotlights. Tears filled them. My dear, tenderhearted Elodie.
She was so changed, yet so steadfastly herself—firmly planted in the earth while possessed of an aura that catapulted her into the ethereal. She shimmered in the light, her dress catching it in ripples and waves as she walked off, tiny white stones in her hair and ears sparkling like stars, and I had to find her, now.
Wishing I were possessed of more grace, I couldn’t rush, desperate as I was, so I stood carefully, pushing back my chair and scooting around it. Zed stepped up to the podium to continue the evening. Dimly, I knew I’d need to speak soon, but Elodie was my focus.
She moved quickly, slipping to the wings of the room before I could reach her. My eyes tracked her movement as well as they could, struggling to locate her in the shadows. Had she gone there to hide, knowing I wouldn’t be able to find her? That hurt to think, but it wasn’t like I deserved any special treatment, not that she’d ever let me off easy.
My eyes scanned the hallway, and I caught Elodie finally stepping from the shadows, looking cautiously about before cutting across the room quickly toward the ladies’ room. She was hiding, and it was time for all this nonsense to come to an end.
Thirty-One
Elodie
How I managed not to vomit during my set, with both early pregnancy and anxiety working against me, was nothing short of miraculous. After vomiting for what felt like an hour, I wound my way to the bar, desperate for a large glass of soda water with lemon. Since gin and tonics were off the table, this was close enough. It reminded me of summer nights on our little patio behind the house, Lucas pointing out his trivial knowledge about constellations and mythology. He would make the voices of the different gods and creatures, make me laugh so hard I snorted gin and tonic out my nose. Those moments were three lifetimes ago, and yet they were fresh and present in my heart. Lucas had left me at his demand, but never, ever, had he left my heart.
Not your typical drink, cocotte.
I whipped around, hearing my mother’s voice.
I saw nothing. God, was I hallucinating? I picked up the drink, my hands shaking. I had adrenaline from performing, and my blood sugar had to be pretty low from how much vomiting I was doing. Could that really make me hear my mother in my head?
I could hear her whispering into my ear. You should really close your mouth, Elo, you look like you’ve met a ghost. I sat on a stool and downed half of my soda water. A mouth open that wide gives a man ideas.
I sat back and took a deep breath.
Why are you here? To be humiliated once again? How could he want you?
God, that woman had a deep hold in my psyche. Why were my darkest doubts, my most secret pain, fodder for her, even as she existed outside my daily life?
“Shut up,” I muttered into my drink. “Because of you, my heart had no idea of what it is to be truly loved.”
And you know now, do you?
I shut my eyes as a tear slipped down my cheek. “Yes,” I whispered. “It changed my life.”
The scent of herbs and cypress, the heat of a long graceful body, consumed my senses and my eyes snapped open.
“Muttering to yourself alone at the bar is not a good indication of mental health, pet.”
Lucas was devastating. Tall, lean, dashing. Sandy blond hair swept back, a black tux cut sharply along his powerful, elegant body. His silvery eyes crinkled, and it accentuated every handsome feature of his face. I swallowed a sob as he stepped closer and lifted one elegant finger at the bartender, gaze never breaking from me.
“That’s my purview, darling. Dubious mental wellness, that is.”
My breath quickened as my gaze held his. His hand took mine, and our palms pressed together, hot and perfect.
“How are you, my darling?” I bit my lip hard and blinked tears. His features pinched in anxiety. “Elodie? Can I hold you?”
I pressed a hand to my mouth to stifle my sob and nodded furiously.
“Thank God,” he muttered.
I was pulled into Lucas’s powerful arms, my own wrapping fiercely inside his jacket. The shock of touching, smelling, feeling him, was nearly too much for me. I hid inside the shadow of his body, basked in the woodsy scent of him. Lucas swayed me in his arms as I fell apart.
“Loulou, get us out of here,” I whispered against his chest. He bent his head, putting his lips close to my ear.
“What’s that, dearest?” His voice was low and warm, startlingly familiar.
I choked on my tears and tried to breathe steadily, but it ended with me hiccupping furiously and trying unsuccessfully to stymie my tears.
“Please don’t cry anymore, Elodie, I can’t take it. I’ve made you cry enough for a lifetime. Two lifetimes.”
I sniffled, squeezing him harder. “I said, get us out of here, please? I don’t want to make a scene.”
He laughed quietly, his fingers smoothing back the loose curls stuck to my tear-stained cheeks. “I rather think I beat you to it. I may have rushed the last bit of my speech, then trampled an innocent bystander or two to get to you once I finally saw you leave the loo.”
“I missed your speech,” I croaked. Now I was crying harder.
“It was unremarkable. And Mum videoed the whole thing so you can watch and laugh at me later. Now don’t go full hysterics, please, love. I’ll have the car pulled round.”
“No.” I tugged him close. “Don’t leave me.”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb gentling my skin. “Come with me, then.”
Lucas stepped out of the backseat of the car, snapped a white meterstick till it crisply unfolded into a long cane, and swept it efficiently as he rounded the boot to open my door.
“He did it,” I whispered to myself. “Oh, Lucas, you did it.” Tears rolled down my cheeks.
The door opened, and he leaned down, smiling in my general direction. “Madame.”
A canopy of winter constellations glittered overhead, and the low full moon smiled down on us as Lucas led me up our walkway, the balled tip popping against the pavers. He handily lifted it and stepped flawlessly up the stoop at the door. I caught the faintest smirk as he turned and oriented himself toward the lock, then folded and pocketed his long cane. Pulling out his key, he ran it between his fingers, felt the lock to slide it in, and opened up. I stepped inside, following him, and peering around. Even I couldn’t see.
“Lucas, it’s so dark…”
He turned toward me, shrugging off his jacket and tossing his keys on the entranceway table, perfectly accurate.
“Yes, it is. It’s nighttime after all.”
He smiled, stepping toward me until we were toe to toe. I held my breath, wondering if he was going to kiss me, pull me against him, but he simply leaned, making me weak-kneed as I felt his heat and smelled his intoxicating scent. Lifting his arm over my shoulder, he pressed the door shut and removed his warmth.
How had he known the door was open still?
“It was drafty. I could feel the night air.”
“Bloody mind-reader,” I grumbled.
He turned, strolling into the living room cane-less, circling the side table and end of the sofa before heading straight to the bar. Thank God I’d gotten the hang of not leaving things strewn about. The house was impeccably neat, every piece of furniture as he’d left it. He trusted I’d keep it that way.
Slowly I returned to toeing off my shoes, then made straight for the sofa. I closed my eyes as I sank onto the leather cushions and sighed with exhaustion. I had nothing in my stomach but seltzer, so thankfully my nausea was at bay for the time being.
I listened to clinking ice in glasses, the soft hiss of released carbonat
ion followed by a glug of liquid flowing, and the slide of citrus peel along the rim. I sighed in relief. Lucas was home.
Suddenly a tumbler was placed in my hand. I sat up and felt nerves tighten my stomach. I couldn’t drink this, but I also couldn’t explain why. I wanted to tell him about the baby, I was near bursting with it, but I needed to know he wanted me, not because I was again pregnant with his child, but because he believed in a world we could share together.
“Not in the mood?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m a little too tired, I think. A drink will put me to sleep. I’m sorry to waste it.”
He swirled his tumbler and the ice cubes knocked against the glass. “It’s okay. Here”—he took it, set it on the side table—“I’ll have it later, maybe. How about a cup of tea for now?”
I nodded.
Lucas banged around in the kitchen, with all the lights on, and some minutes later, came back, giant stadium coats in arms and a steaming mug of tea. He strode toward the French doors, and as he unlocked them, he then glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s go outside.”
Icy winter air whispered past him, his woodsy scent mingling with the fragrance from outdoors. I remembered the flowers and herbs we’d planted in the garden beyond, how he’d taken me in a bed of lavender, and I’d spent days finding those aromatic leaves stuck in my hair.
Lucas came back inside and riffled through the closet, pulling out the lawn chairs he’d folded and put away the day he left.
He squinted in from the patio as he opened the chair. “Well, are you coming?”
I stood from the sofa, then froze. Beyond that threshold was my future. What if he broke my heart? Nairne’s words echoed in my head and made me smile.
Hufflepuff or not, you are courageous.
“Yes,” I whispered.
I followed him out, slipping into the massive jacket he held for me while shivering. Lucas disappeared inside one last time and came out with a wool throw from the sofa.
