by Kailin Gow
“As are you.” His voice was strong, yet tinged with fragility. “I love you beyond reason.”
The strength he pushed into his voice faltered and he choked. With a clatter that far outweighed the sheets they were written on, the music fell from my hand. I stepped closer, anticipating the outreach of his arms; wanting so desperately for him to pull me closer still.
He remained motionless. “My love for you has only brought you pain.”
I leaned into him, needing his support and his strength. My lips brushed along his cheek and warmed his ear. I knew the pain I’d recently suffered was nothing compared to the slow death I now sensed.
“Annette.” The whisper was filled with longing and denial.
“Eric.” Despite every weakened limb, my voice was strong in its determination to keep him from saying what he was about to say. I didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t bear it.
“I must go in search of who I truly am.”
“Eric,” I pleaded.
“I owe you at least that.” He pressed his lips over my eyes.
I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tight as I rested my cheek against his chest. His heart pounded in my ear and I knew it was breaking as surely as mine was. The salt of too many tears clung to his shirt while my own pain slid down my cheeks and merged with his.
“It was silly of me to ask you that. I don’t care. I don’t want to know. All that matters is that you're here. That we’re together.” I reached up to kiss his neck and up his cheek.
“I have to leave.” Defeated and determined, he stood still. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”
“Eric,” I muttered through the kisses that attempted to engage him.
“Please don’t look for me.”
“This isn’t fair.”
He cupped my cheeks and held my gaze. “If our love was meant to be, if all the love and pain we’ve shared was for a purpose, destiny will bring me back to you.”
His lips covered mine and the power of his embrace crushed me to his chest. I didn’t want to let go. The pain of losing him left me dizzy and barely able to stand. His support was vital; his consoling never enough.
I lured his tongue to meet with mine and savored every moment as though clinging to my last breath. He pressed his fingers through my hair, gripping me tighter and enveloping me in the passion of his every move.
Only when I felt the wall at my back did I realize he’d pushed up against the damp brick and mortar. With his strained breathing filling the cavernous room, he lifted my hands above my head, pinning me to the wall as his lips waged an assault over my skin. My cheeks, my neck, my collarbone and down to the valley between my breasts, now moistened with the glow of passion.
“Make love to me, Eric.” Before you go. Before you leave me shattered and unable to love so deeply.
His breathing faltered and I knew his passion was as heightened as mine. Tears had given way to the heated glimmer of perspiration. When his tongue dipped between my breasts, I thought he’d released his resolve. I wanted his love, in the physical and in the depths of me.
But just as quickly as his tongue had swiped at the sweat of my chest, he pulled away, leaving me cold and too hungry.
He cupped my chin with one strong hand. “I love you, Annette.”
One last moment, his gaze held mine and I crumpled to the floor the instant he released me.
Without turning back, he walked out, each step stamping out the determination of his decision.
Amidst the sheets of such tormented music that littered the floor, my sobs echoed in the void, begging him to return.
Chapter 15
December 29, 2010
Dear Diary,
It’s difficult to put into words the depth of pain and sorrow I feel. My heart has been emptied and I feel I have nothing left. I don’t know how long I remained on that floor, sobbing and hoping, but I rose stiff and chilled and barely able to make my way up to the Met.
The night has been an unending dream of his return, of his love and of his passion, making this morning’s first wake all the more impossible. Opening my eyes to the music sheets I’d brought home with me didn’t help matters.
The lyrics danced off the sheets, taunting me with the thoughts that had plagued Eric for so long. My only solace was in knowing that his pain was as profound as mine.
He’d once written an opera for Kristine. The opera I’d sung these past months revolved around the pain and passion of that union.
Could this new opera be a sign of the end of that relationship, once and for all? Was he truly prepared to put Kristine behind him and look at the possibility of a future with me?
Hopeless dreams, I know. But my heart needs to cling to that hope. The hope that his destiny will indeed bring him back to me.
I must set aside my pain for now. Aaron is soon to arrive. With our trip to Paris all set, I can’t help but wonder at the purpose of this trip. Paris, where all this tragedy and treachery started. Did I really want to immerse myself in this further?
But…Paris. What young woman didn’t dream of a sojourn in the romance and history of such an exquisite city?
I took one final look in the mirror. The puffiness beneath my eyes was barely evident and the redness was gone. The sad tug of my lips came and went. When Aaron’s knock sounded at the door, I forced the corners of my mouth up. It looked convincing enough.
I opened the door to Aaron’s confident smile and playful wink, beneath a very French beret. “Ready to be swept off your feet, ma demoiselle?” He pulled the beret off and plopped it onto my head.
“Maurice Chevalier, you are not,” I said with a laugh. “But I like your attempt all the same.”
*****
Paris greeted us with a chill, but nothing could temper the excitement of this vibrant city. People still crowded the EiffelTower and the Louvre was a lush journey through culture and the arts. Aaron was the perfect tour guide, knowledgeable and thorough. No doubt we saw everything Paris had to offer and then some.
Simply being immersed in such splendor was enough to make me dizzy. While Paris had so much to see and do, just strolling through the streets, drinking in the architecture and becoming part of the crowd was enough to fill me with an exuberant joie de vivre.
As we sat at a small bistro, many young women passed by, eyeing Aaron with interest, and gazing at me with open curiosity. Many smiled as they attempted to catch his attention. One brazen woman even dropped her lipstick by our table and made an elaborate show of picking it up.
Aaron’s gaze never wandered.
He poured some wine into my quickly emptying glass, his focus completely on me. Flattered by his concentrated gaze, I blushed.
Was he truly oblivious to the interested gazes of so many young and startlingly beautiful women or was he simply ignoring them for my sake.
“I’m beginning to feel like I’m with a French celebrity. Is your presence in Paris always so noted?”
“The Aragon name is well known in Paris,” he stated flatly. “As is the Aragon profile. There seems to be an undeniable physical trait that gives the Aragon men away. I believe it’s the chin.” He grinned and winked, causing a woman at another table to sigh.
“If I were the jealous type, this meal could turn out quite differently. Many American women wouldn’t sit through such blatant flirting.”
He smiled, though I suspected he would have appreciated a touch of jealousy.
“Only a confident and self-assured woman can deal with the constant onslaught of young hungry women competing for the attention of an Aragon.”
Our day spent in Paris was a blur of activity that had us eager to find our beds that night. With the view of l’Arc de Triomphe in the distance, I fell asleep in a room adjacent to Aaron’s.
He was full of life and vigor as he greeted me the next morning with croissants and coffee. The sight of the croissant immediately had me thinking back to my time spent with Kristine.
“Coffee would be go
od,” I said simply.
Paris brought Aaron to life in a way I’d never seen in New York. It was difficult to tell if it was the return to his home or simply leaving the pressures of his work behind that affected him so. His smile was boyish and the gleam in his eye forever playful.
But it was as we left the lights of the city and drove through the narrow country lanes that Aaron really came to life in a more profound and touching way. I could see the emotions and reverie in his eyes. This was his home. The further behind Paris became, the brighter his eyes shone.
“You must miss it,” I said as I took in the beauty of the countryside that passed us by. Everything seemed magical and special. My eyes couldn’t completely take in all the beauty that sped by.
The little convertible sports car Aaron drove swept through the winding roads as though he’d never left home. Everything seemed familiar to him and he continually pointed out one notable building after another. His smile was contagious and I felt giddy and caught up in his nostalgia. Only half an hour out of Paris and I could feel the intoxicating effects of this country.
The lightly scented air was sweet and every breath felt like a gift.
“I guess I hadn’t really realized just how much I’d missed all this until we hit this old road. Isn’t it unfortunate how we often tend to take for granted such things, only to miss them when they’re gone?” He stopped at the gate of a grand estate. As he’d done throughout our visit of Paris, he leaned over to set the kiss of a true gentleman on my cheek.
I wanted to question the diminished passion he’d shown me since we’d arrived. What had happened to the intense ardor he’s displayed while Kristine had been in power? Had he forgotten about all the heat she’d ignited? Or was the rumor of my possession sinking in? He was a smart man; a man who knew the ways of worldly women. With the contrast of my demure and chaste sensuality and Kristine’s overt and explosive sexuality, it was almost obvious that something odd had happened to me.
“We’re home.” He beamed with pride.
A small glimpse of the chateau in the distance took my breath away.
“Prepare to be treated like a princess.”
Chapter 16
The home seemed to stretch out as far as I could see. Pristine and white, with several turrets, I could not even fathom growing up in such a home. The property was larger than the entire neighborhood I’d spent my childhood in. Fountains, flowers and neatly trimmed shrubs hemmed the home in.
“Feeling nervous?” Aaron asked. He opened my door and helped me out, his eyes directed at the ruby cross that hung on the delicate chain around my neck.
I’d not even realized I was fingering it, but as I stepped out of the car, I found my fingers reluctant to release it.
Aaron took my hand and led me down the walkway that led around the house.
“Don’t fret. My family will love you. Maman is a sweet woman with a warm heart, while my uncle Jean Paul is a dry jokester. He’s my father’s youngest brother and has been living here ever since my father passed away. Keeps Maman company and helps immensely with the tending of the grounds.”
My sudden case of nerves had nothing to do with his family. A chill had swept over me the moment we’d crossed the gates, and the cool wind had only increased as we’d approached the expansive home.
“Annette,” Aaron said, his voice suddenly filled with concern. He stopped and turned to me, his hands keeping a firm grip of mine. “Are you all right?”
“Of course.” I forced a smile and tried to sound convincing.
“You're deathly pale.” He brought the back of his hand to my forehead. “It’s cold enough to snow yet you're burning up.”
“I’m sorry. I guess meeting your family does have me a little more unnerved than I’d expected. It’s not every day a girl from the bayou waltzes into a French chateau. What’s the protocol? What etiquette? How do I call your maman? Do I look alright?”
In his reassuring and professional way, Aaron smiled and chuckled lightly. “Maman is not the queen and you can simply call her Francoise. And you look absolutely delightful.” He gave my hand a playful shake up. “Worry not, my love.”
Francoise and Jean Paul were in the midst of lunch, but Francoise quickly set aside her plate and greeted me with all the charm and warmth her frail little body allowed.
“Aaron,” she said. “Quelle surprise. I thought you’d only be here tomorrow.”
“Bonjour, maman.” Aaron was suddenly a boy again as he hugged and kissed his mother. The moment was touching and I was surprised to see this side of him. Gone was the strong businessman who made quick decisions and controlled millions in deals. He was simply his mother’s boy, happy to be home.
“You both must be eager for a good meal. I’ll have Marguerite bring out additional plates.”
After a brief but hearty lunch spiced with amusing stories of Aaron’s youth, Aaron excused us from the table and we returned to the car to retrieve our bags. With a grand sweep of his arm, he opened the majestic front door and we entered his house.
“I’ll show you to your rooms.”
I followed him upstairs, but when he stopped to set his bags down in the hall I continued and turned to take the hall that led to the east wing. The air was lightly scented with spices, bringing about a sense of comfort and familiarity. Drawn to the third door to the right, I put my hand to the doorknob and turned.
Aaron’s hand was soon over mine, keeping me from opening the door. “You certainly know your way around.”
His comment shook me out of my internal reverie of the home I’d never visited before. I gazed at my hand on the doorknob and wondered why I’d chosen this door. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I looked more closely at the corridor behind me. Though the colors were different as were a few paintings and side tables, the walls, the doors, the light entering the hall through the stairwell all brought vivid memories.
I knew the door beside mine held a grand suite that was reserved for important guests. At the end of the hall, two doors beyond mine was a small boudoir that had always been decorated in sun yellow. It overlooked a particularly colorful area of the flower garden and was always a delight to sit in.
Aaron pushed the door open and I wasn’t surprised to see the delicate periwinkle blue of the romantic room. Filled with antiques and fine paintings, the room carried the aura of centuries past.
Who’d slept here before? What dramas had transpired here?
“This is beautiful,” I managed to say. “I’ve never seen such fine antiques.”
“Virtually everything is as it has always been. This estate has been a part of our family for centuries.”
My steps led me to the window and I knew before I arrived what I’d see. The beauty of the French countryside was at my fingertips.
“I’ll give you a few moments to settle in then I’ll bring you on the grand tour.”
Alone in the room, I released the tension that had been building to the point of nearly exploding. Confused by the familiarity I felt to my surroundings, I anxiously awaited Aaron’s return.
After hastily shoving my clothes into the drawers and hanging a few things in the closet, I sat on the edge of the bed and fidgeted. It didn’t feel right being here. I couldn’t point my finger on the crux of the problem, but there was something. I thought of Kristine then just as quickly shoved all thoughts of her aside.
“Ready to go.” Aaron poked his head in and grinned.
I let his excitement fill me and followed him out to the riding path.
“Your uncle is quite a character,” I said as I strolled slowly by Aaron’s side. “Has he always been so funny?”
“Always had me cracking up as a boy, though my father never found him so amusing.”
“Did you really go off to school wearing one of your mother’s chemises?” I giggled at the image.
“He also has a way of embellishing,” Aaron said through a tight laugh. “I never actually made it to school with Maman’s chemise. Fortunat
ely my nanny caught my fashion faux pas and stopped me.”
My laughter was heartfelt and girlish, but I didn’t mind. It was too amusing seeing this side of him.
“And your mother is unbelievably charming. So elegant.”
“She is loved by all who meet her. And she was clearly delighted by you.” Though I was pleased to hear I’d made a good impression, I felt a cold hand of wind push at my back.
“It’s beautiful out here Aaron. Why ever did you leave this marvelous corner of the world?”
The further behind we left the house, the more profound the chill became. As we entered what remained of the small forest, a blast of cold blew up my coat and left me feeling nude in the winter wind.
I hugged myself and Aaron was quick to pull me into the crook of his arm. “This fresh country air isn’t like the stifling air of New York.”
Smiling, I simply allowed his arms to warm me.
“Are you enjoying your visit?”
“It’s all so much to take in. Everything is so beautiful and so touched with history. Walking here is like going through a history book.”
He pulled away and stooped down to pick up a small smooth stone. “This home has seen an awful lot of joy and tragedies over the years. Jean Paul loved to tell me about his father and grandfather. Hopefully I’ll one day have a son to relay all these stories to.”
At a fork in the road, I took to the left. Aaron glanced strangely at me, but said nothing. Playing with his stone, he threw it from one hand to the other. In peaceful silence, we walked on until we reached a sharp incline that brought us to a windswept cliff top. Over the tops of the bare trees we could make out the elaborate home in the distance.
“Bringing back any memories?” Aaron asked.
Taken aback, I looked at him and tried not to gape. “You're the one with the fond memories, remember?”
“And what do you remember?”
“Aaron, I’ve never been here before. I’ve never even been to France. I have no memories of this place. None of this is familiar.”
