by Cait London
Henry held up his beer and used it to sight the upright faerie, with wings glistening in the September 1 moonlight. The leaves rattled gently overhead, the oaks preparing for fiery autumn color. The roses in the Granger garden were still lush and huge, but soon they would fall on the faeries that now stood in various poses in the garden. The largest ones were concrete and gleamed in the moonlight; the more delicately fashioned polyresins seemed lighter, their gauzelike clothing almost floating in the slight breeze. The artist had given the wings special care, embellishing the individual parts with ferns and flowers and lace. Their faces seemed almost childlike, waving hair decked with daisies and ribbons.
Stefan held the petals of a rose in his palm, the wind fluttering them gently, stirring their scent, which reminded him of Rose. He had to leave, and Rose’s expression the night of their dinner haunted him. She’d hurt him—thinking that her body was only for his play, his enjoyment, and that his heart didn’t come with the mix. In French, he’d told her of his love many times during those evening calls; he’d told her of how he felt holding her close, their skin hot with desire, their bodies shaking, and yet his heart had ruled him—for Stefan had found that he was a man who could only make love when he cared deeply.
“The girls should keep Rose long enough for us to get the job done, Stefan. We’ve got plenty of time. After Mary Lou’s baby shower, a bunch of the girls will go down to the Lizard Lounge to top off the night. Rose usually goes with them. So what’s to eat, Stefan? Nothing fancy, I hope, maybe just some cold cut sandwiches? These statues are heavy things,” Henry said as he put his shoulder against a four-foot faerie holding a wand and muscled it upright.
“Rose will love them,” Larry said as he sat down on the ground to study the statues in the rose garden. “Faeries were all she had to comfort her years ago. She gave me a black eye for laughing at her, and she was right to do it. I’m teaching my boys to be more sensitive. Glad you asked us to help, Stefan. Rose deserves nice things.”
Stefan prayed he wasn’t adding to Rose’s fear by placing the statues in her garden, just as he wanted to place his love in her heart. He hadn’t meant to sound so cold and hard—Did you think, my darling, that I would want your body and not your heart?
He’d sounded as if he were making a business acquisition, but the sting went deep—that Rose would think so little of him. The panic in her wide blue eyes had told him not to push the matter, and he’d hoped that the rose garden faeries would add a gentler persuasion to his case for romance. He’d been very careful not to give Rose gifts because she was still simmering over his refusal to accept payment for roofing her house. He’d torn up the check she’d written for his day of work at the store. He discovered that she was very determined to give an “equalizing” gift when one was given, but the several hundred pound statues weren’t easily returned. They were set in concrete, a permanent fixture as was his love. He wanted her to think of him when he was away—and he would have to leave soon.
The men settled down to drink beer and eat bratwursts on buns, slathered with good mustard. Larry and Henry, old friends who had grown up with Rose, cared very deeply for her, and Stefan enjoyed listening to their Rose-stories.
Around midnight, when they were all lying flat on the lawn, studying the moon above, Mrs. Wilkins called, “If you boys don’t hurry up and leave, Rose will be home soon and find you snockered in her garden. You’re a nice man, Stefan Donatien.”
“He sure is,” Larry said very slowly and distinctly.
“Sure is,” Henry added, seemingly pleased with his loud belch.
“I love Rose, and I love you guys, too,” Stefan returned, feeling very mellow as he lay on the ground with his friends. He balanced his bottle of beer on his stomach and studied the faeries surrounding them. They were in different poses, their wings arching, almost fluttering, holding gifts of flowers and birdbaths and sundials, and love. He could almost see them kissing freckles all over Rose’s long, delectable body. He wanted her to have something to remember him by when he left on his business trip. “Good job, men,” he said.
“She’ll love them, but she gets uppity sometimes when people give her things…because she doesn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her,” Mrs. Wilkins said, coming to settle on the old wooden bench. “I think you’re feeling something other than that and this is a nice way to show her how much you love her. It’s unique and sweet, and I’d like to tell you a few stories about Rose, so you’ll understand her pride better. She’s a giver, you see. She’s wound through our lives, a beautiful caring girl, who became even more considerate as a woman. You could always count on Rose in a hard spot, like when I had those bouts of pneumonia. She was right there, taking me to the doctor, taking care of me, like she has other people in Waterville. She spreads kindness like sunshine, and that’s why we call her ‘The Love Spinner.’ But she hasn’t learned that in taking gifts, she is also giving.”
She took her scissors and snipped lengths of blue ribbon. “There, if we tie these around the faeries, they’ll seem more like gifts. This blue is the exact shade of Rose’s eyes. Got any more bratwursts?”
Stefan served more bratwurst and more beer and settled down into a mellow expectation of how much Rose would like his surprise. With the air sweet around him, and images of Rose steaming nicely to his caresses, Stefan sighed happily. “I think I love all of you,” he stated grandly.
“Uh…you’re okay, too,” Larry said after a look at Henry.
“And Rose?” Mrs. Wilkins prompted.
“Rose is my delight, my dessert, and my life. She glows when she smiles, and opens the sunshine of my heart. She holds it in the palm of her hand and I can only breathe when I am near her. Like good cheese and wine, she will only grow better with time. I am a happy man. I adore her. Every freckle and every scent and every look and—”
Henry frowned at Stefan. “Say, Steve, could you say something romantic in French so I could make points with my wife? After watching you with Rose, she thinks I need to study your technique.”
Stefan taught Larry and Henry endearments, and as they curled over his lips and drifted into the night air, he savored the moment when he could whisper them to Rose. He smiled again, and thought of how he would teach Rose and how she would whisper them back to him….
The next morning, Rose stepped out onto her front porch. She did her warm-up stretches for running and sailed out of the front yard. She thought of the tense moments between Yvette and Stefan. Rose decided to call Yvette and Estelle and make certain they knew how much Stefan loved them. He always seemed so strong—Rose wondered if they knew how much he needed them in his life, how he needed to be needed. Rose decided to visit Leroy and explain how important it was for Stefan to help those he loved, and to see that they were treated gently. Rose’s needs ran to seeing that Stefan wasn’t hurt; she wanted his life to be safe, even though she wouldn’t be in it when he returned to the city.
She’d hurt Stefan’s feelings that night after they’d made love; she’d seen it in the flash of his eyes, the tilt of his head and the set of his jaw. Two nights ago after their reheated dinner, he’d been very silent as he dressed, gave her a brisk kiss on the cheek and walked out of her home. There had been no evening calls, that beautiful language curling around her, and last night she’d missed him all through the night at the Lizard. She kept wishing for him, wanting him to hold her. It should be so easy to tell him she loved him, but it wasn’t. She thought of how she could hurt him when the panic set in—her fear of loving too much.
Stefan surged down the street and soon ran at her side. This morning he wore sunglasses and he hadn’t shaved. She remembered the scrape of his beard against her skin, the exotic texture of man. When he didn’t speak, Rose asked, “Having a good day?”
“Hmm,” he returned darkly, clearly not wanting to indulge in conversation. He glanced down at the blue ribbon trailing out of his pocket and jammed it back in without explanation.
He smiled briefly, as if he were b
oth satisfied and anticipating whatever memories the ribbon stirred. But he wasn’t speaking to her. He was preparing to end their summer. That’s all that it was—a summer love…he wasn’t a teenager anymore…she could adapt to this…life moved on… Rose wanted to make ending their affair easy for him, though she would remember him forever. “You’ll feel better when you’re back at the helm. You know, steady at the rudder, and all that business talk.”
The mirrored sunglasses flashed down at her and Stefan’s taut mouth did not resemble a happy lover’s. Rose decided this wasn’t the morning for talk. Then he sailed off and left her with old Walt, who was panting and tired—and Rose ached. “I love him, of course,” she whispered to old Walt. “But you see this is for the best, don’t you? Stefan deserves someone who isn’t going to panic at the thought of commitment. Estelle is in college now and he’ll be going back to the city, and I’ll be staying here with you, and life will go on the same as always.”
Life went on that morning at the paint store, the same as always for Rose Granger. She moved through the sales as if she were a robot, and knew that every day after Stefan left would be the same. He’d become a part of her life—the morning jogging, the late-night calls, those steamy, soul-shattering kisses— Stefan’s emotions ran deep, despite his sometimes cool, controlled exterior. She’d hurt him; there had been that tilt of his head, the arrogance and pride in his too soft tone. Do you think that I would want your body, and not your heart?
Then at midmorning, Stefan carried a tray into the store and walked back into the storeroom without speaking. She hurried back to see him, to explain how she’d miss him and that things were for the better, and— She looked at the tray filled with crepes and strawberries, coffee and a beautiful rose. “For me?” she asked, delighted that he would think of her.
Then her delight shifted into wary expectation—the beautiful food was Stefan’s way of softening the end of their interlude, and that’s all it was, Rose repeated to herself. An interlude that both knew would end.
“Danny let me make crepes this morning. They called them ‘Steve’s pancakes,’ but it is no matter. They were a success with the breakfast crowd, and these are for you for helping me resolve those first yelling matches.” His boyish, triumphant smile dazzled her and while she wasn’t thinking of the summer ending, filling herself with how beautiful he looked, Stefan closed the storeroom door and locked it.
“I’m really hungry—” Rose began. Her body vibrated at his dark, intense look as he moved toward her, tugging her into his arms.
“I am hungry, too. For you,” he whispered huskily as his hands ran over her, and his mouth came down to meet hers. Because she needed the taste of him, because she loved him and knew that time ran short between them, Rose locked her arms around him, pouring herself into the kiss.
Stefan tensed and slowly eased her away, sweeping the tendrils that had escaped her braids back from her face. He studied her flushed, upturned face, her closed lids and sensitive, well-kissed lips. “You want me now?”
He always reacted so well, she thought. His tone held surprise, amusement and hunger and anticipation. Rose licked her lips and looked at his body, wondering where to start— “Start here,” Stefan whispered and touched his lips.
Ten
The next time Rose saw Stefan, it was at closing time. She looked out of the store’s windows to the sidewalk where he had parked the big leased black Town Car he used for traveling to the airport. He wore those mirrored sunglasses, and the wind tugged at his expensive dress shirt and slacks. He looked nothing like Danny’s cook or her lover. Stefan had that lean, stiletto look of a fierce, determined knight going off to battle, already leaning into it, his mind preoccupied with specifics. He glanced impatiently at the expensive watch on his wrist, and Rose’s heart began to ache. When he looked up to the dark gray clouds as if he couldn’t wait to be off, she knew that it was closing time between them.
She forced herself to swallow, her throat gone dry and tight. There would be the usual nicey-nicey talk, the explanations that didn’t really need to be made. She’d known all the while that he’d be leaving, once business called him back to Chicago. She fought running and hiding, pain streaking through her. She damned herself for wanting him so, for being so selfish as to take some part of life for herself.
He’d called during the afternoon, but she’d been too busy. He’d been hesitant to tell her what bothered him, and she’d said she’d call him back. Rose inhaled and wished she’d closed the store and taken the time, because now she had to paste a smile on her face when her heart was breaking. She smiled brightly as Stefan entered the door and came toward her. He wouldn’t see the tears she guarded closely. She would see him off and step back into the dull reality and safety of her life. “Hi, Stefan. How goes it?” she asked cheerfully.
He’d been so passionate this morning, growling playfully and teasing and hungry for her, just as she wanted him. But the hours had shifted and reality had come to call….
He took off the glasses and his eyes were dark and stormy. She could almost feel his touch, his body as it riveted and completed hers this morning. She could almost hear his chuckle as he held her limp body close and safe on the storeroom’s picnic table. You knew this time would come. Be a good sport, and let him go. Don’t get mad. Don’t cry. Don’t make him feel as if he needs to stay because of you. Stefan is doing the best that he can and you’re not going to interfere in his life. What were you thinking?
“I’ll be back,” he stated firmly.
“Sure,” she returned with a smile that didn’t show her breaking heart. She started to study the cardboard advertisement that she’d just unbalanced with her elbow, but her hands shook and it tumbled off the counter.
Stefan picked it up and watched her as he replaced it. He ran his hand through his hair and glanced at his watch and studied her. “I would like you to come with me.”
Why prolong the ending? Why not make a clean break? “I’ve got work to do. You know how it is.”
She sounded too chirpy, too happy, and she avoided Stefan’s study of her expression as she began clearing the cash machine. “It’s business. I’ve just got time to make my flight,” he said quietly. “I wanted to tell you this morning, but I was so—”
Hungry for her. But then she wasn’t exactly calm, and had torn his T-shirt to kiss that beautiful chest and place her body against his. The old picnic table in the back would always hold a memory of moving over Stefan—
“Sure. See you.” Rose couldn’t bear any more. “Look, let’s just leave it, okay? No long goodbyes, no promises, no future together. I understood from the start what I was getting into—that you would be leaving and that we had just…intersected at a time when we both needed—”
“I love you, Rose,” Stefan said quietly. “I’ll be back.”
The admission broadsided her, hanging in the air between them. “You don’t have to say that. There’s no price tag on what we’ve had. I’m a big girl, Stefan. I know when the ball game is over and there is no need to make it easier for me. Go on, take care of business.”
Stefan’s jaw tensed. “I’ll be back,” he repeated darkly. “And we’ll settle this between us.”
“Sure. For holidays and vacations. That will be nice. It’s settled. See you.” Then because her heart could not bear more, Rose turned and ran out the back door. She ignored Stefan’s call and ran as fast as she could into the woods near town. She scrambled up the old tree where she hid from life long ago and let the tears flow.
After a time, just after sunset, her father came to stand below her. He looked up at her and called softly, “Rose? He’s gone. You can come down now. There’s something you should see.”
Rose hesitated; she knew how she looked—torn by emotions, her face streaked with tears, her hands and knees scraped by the climb. Then because she didn’t want to worry him more, she made her way down the tree. “I’m just fine, Dad. Honest.”
“Sure,” he said in a wry, dis
believing tone. He took her hand as they walked back into Waterville on a course they’d walked many times. “You always are, aren’t you, kitten?”
“This is silly of me, getting all worked up like I didn’t expect him to leave. Is this how it felt? When Mom left?”
Maury shook his head. “No. Your mother left with another man. Stefan left because he holds other peoples’ lives in his hands, in his decisions. Families depend on him, and retirees need him to protect their pensions. He’s a powerful businessman, Rose, but he’s also just a man. He’ll be back. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”
They walked to their front gate and Maury said, “Let’s go around back. It’s pretty out there in the rose garden. Your mother named you ‘Rose’ because it was the flower she loved best. I think she tried to stay, for your sake.”
He watched Rose for a moment as she stared at the faeries in the moonlit garden. They would be there when the fiery leaves began to fall and when snow came and when spring came again to the roses. Then Maury left her alone with Stefan’s gift. He paused at the back door and watched Rose wander amid the faeries, looking very much like one of them. “He’ll come back, Rose,” Maury said quietly to the night, because he believed in Stefan.
Rose skimmed her hands over each unique faerie. They were firmly set in concrete, too big to move, too beautiful to dismiss in the moonlight. She wrapped her arms around the largest one and held it close, just as she wished she could hold Stefan now.
She touched a delicately fashioned wing, smoothing it. What did Stefan’s gift mean? Was it a parting gift? Something he thought might ease the break? Dare she believe?
Then Rose waited for the faeries to answer her questions, but they only smiled softly. “I’ve got to be careful that I don’t interpret this the wrong way, you know,” she told them and settled down to discuss her next move, which of course, was to thank Stefan.
