by Anna Katmore
He started reading the dishes out to me in the national language and gave me the appropriate English name for each. To hear the French words roll off his tongue set a sensual tingle on my skin. The temptation to ask him if he could read the menu again nudged me, but instead I settled for a pasta dish.
He ordered on my behalf when a man dressed like an oversized penguin appeared. “Would you like a Coke with it?” he asked me, and when I nodded he passed the order on.
Twenty minutes later, the waiter served our meals. “Pour mademoiselle,” he sang in a soft lilt when he set a nice heap of spaghetti in front of me.
“Gracias.” I cast the waiter a proud grin.
Julian shook his head, chuckled low, and started eating his chicken in wine sauce. I dug in, too, realizing I was starving.
“Are you ready for afters?” Marie rubbed the back of my hand on the table while the waiter came back for our empty plates.
I patted my bursting stomach. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“Oh come, you would not say no to ice cream, would you?”
My mouth watered.
Without waiting for my final answer, Marie spoke to the waiter, and he gave a nod. “Would you like some dessert, too?” she asked Julian.
“No more for me, thanks.”
The penguin hurried to bring me and Marie each a cup the size of my foot, filled to the edge with chocolate and vanilla ice cream, topped with a mountain of whipped cream and two wafer rolls. My brain froze with every spoonful I shoved into my mouth. Three quarters down to the bottom, my stomach resigned, but I couldn’t stand to waste any of this precious dessert.
“Please,” I begged Julian. “Could you help me finish this monster sundae?”
Through with her dessert already, Marie offered him her spoon, and we took turns scooping the cream from the cup. Julian fished out the cherry that stuck on the bottom of the glass tub.
I was full to the brim, but this little cherry must have been the most appetizing thing in the world. Never having had any, I could only imagine how heavenly it would taste. My mouth watered anew with the mere sight of it on Julian’s long-stemmed spoon.
He sneered at me as he lifted the fruit to his mouth. My heart sank. But then he gave me a wink and brought the spoon in front of my lips.
Uncertain, I chewed the inside of my cheek.
“Go on, it’s yours,” he urged.
I opened my mouth and he steered the cherry to its final destination, his eyes fixed on mine the entire time. I bit into the fruit. The sour taste was nothing close to what I had expected. I grimaced, swallowed the bite, but kept the pit in my mouth. It rolled along my teeth as we left the bistro and headed back to the car.
We made a stop at the local supermarket where Marie spent another small fortune on food and drinks, then she steered the SUV home.
My heart sank with each mile she drove. The day alone with her and Julian had been too beautiful. And too short. Already, in a few minutes, the horrible face of my mother would put a stop to my joy.
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SONG
ONCE BACK HOME, Julian and I lugged the heavy bags after Marie into the kitchen to help her put away the groceries.
As we walked through the door, the warm scent of chocolate took me on an immediate journey through time. A sudden impulse to twirl on the spot shot into my legs and, for the blink of an eye, left me light-footed. Without my knowing, soft giggles shook me. But catching a glimpse of my mother’s rear when she was bent over the opened oven made me gain control.
“You came just in time for coffee and cake. I made your favorite, Jona,” Charlene said as she pulled a steaming chocolate fudge cake out of the oven.
In spite of the delicious scent that wafted in my face, anger spiraled up inside me. Not just because of her talking to me, but most of all because it was a memory belonging to her and me alone that had made me smile right then. I fought to stay rooted in the present and leave things in the past alone.
“And just what makes you think you know anything about my favorites? It’s not as if you’ve been to the orphanage lately to find out.” My toxic voice earned me a poke from Julian. I didn’t care. After all it wasn’t half as painful as the twinge of my heart. With a heavy thump, the bag in my arm landed on the counter.
The blue cushions on the bench wrapped around the table flattened when we all took our seats while Marie brought the coffee pot and poured. Charlene dished out cake.
The devil may get me if I eat anything made by the dragon.
When she was about to hand me a piece, I stared straight at her, all memory shoved away. “No, thank you. I don’t fancy your bloody cake.”
My aunt exchanged an uneasy glance with my uncle, but neither reprimanded me. In fact, it was Julian’s tender fingers that suddenly nudged my chin and tipped my head so I would look at his penetrating eyes.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve the mouth of a snotty brat?” His thumb smoothed over my cheek, then he let go of me.
I was still gazing at him when he began sipping his coffee. The temperature around me dropped to an uncomfortable level. It was unbelievable, how he made me wish that, for once, I hadn’t lipped off to my mother, all with this one reprobative glance of his. It scared the hell out of me to realize how much this man’s opinion mattered to me. I had never cared what anyone thought of me, so why now?
I drank my coffee fast to quench the taste of bad conscience. And while everyone else still shoved bites of chocolate cake into their mouths, I excused myself from the next round of refills.
Some alone time was on the agenda. To have so many people around me all day had exhausted me. It surprised me when I realized I wanted to roam through the vinery instead of retreating to my room. Strange, how very much this place had grown on me in the last three days. Only now did I realize that I actually missed working out here today.
I paused from pounding the path in front of me and pinched the bridge of my nose. A glance back at the house and up to my open door on the balcony confirmed my suspicion. Damnit to hell—I was falling in love with this house and the grounds. I dragged two restless hands through my hair, pushing out a desperate sigh.
What would Quinn have said if he had seen me now? I missed my friend. I missed his scolding when I was dragged to the office and he had to take care of me as well as the saucy chats we’d had when he’d invited me to McDonald’s for a Coke and a burger before he’d delivered me at the orphanage.
He would want me to be happy. “If you can’t change a situation, make the best of it.” His words surfaced in my mind. Maybe I should listen to him for once.
Kicking stones out of my way released some of my frustration, but the doubts and confusion remained. I’d run from so many places in the past after I nicked a little money or something shiny. I’d even run from the orphanage. Twice. But I’d never made it farther than Gatwick or Chelmsford by dodging the fare of the train before an official caught me and sent me back to the institution.
In fact, I’d grown tired of running.
Maybe, just for a little while, I could enjoy the pleasantries of having a nice place to stay put without worrying about what tomorrow would bring.
Surrounded by all the greenery, I tilted my head and gazed at the sky. “Damn, what’s your bloody plan?” For a moment, I studied the clouds drifting by, knowing I wouldn’t get an answer other than maybe a bird pooping on my face.
With my hands tucked deep into my pockets, I strolled back to the house. The kitchen was empty, but I heard people chatting in the front room. Muffled but desperate, Charlene’s voice caught my attention.
It went against my nature to eavesdrop. After all, I didn’t give a damn about what the dragon had to say. But as my foot hovered over the second stair, she mentioned my name and that was enough to change my mind.
I crept to the front room door and strained to listen.
“…will get over it eventually. Trust me.”
I had a strange feeling of foreboding of the
subject Julian was talking about.
Sounding close to tears, my mother replied, “But what if she just can’t forgive me? It doesn’t seem like she ever will.”
Yup, my intuition was dead on. What struck me as weird was that the dragon confided in Julian with her doubts and sorrow, and not in someone who’d be a little closer to her. Like family. I’d have expected her to talk to Marie, instead of her caretaker.
“You have to give her some more time,” Julian insisted in his familiar soft tone, the same one he used when he’d dragged me out onto the balcony last night.
“But you of all people know time is the only thing I don’t have left!”
Hard as it was to admit, her grief sounded genuine. It gave my heart a twinge. The second within only an hour.
“Be patient, Charlene. Rest. Conserve your energy. I’ll take care of everything else.”
The room fell silent. What was going on? I urged to lean around the corner and peek inside, but I couldn’t give away my advantage. The wall behind me cooled my back as I frowned at the ceiling, waiting for them to speak again.
Dissonant notes sounded from the piano, like someone hit random keys when walking by.
My mother cleared her throat. When she spoke her voice had dropped a few notches. “I’ve noticed a change about you.”
A silent second ticked by.
“Have you?” The faintest hint of disapproval from Julian.
I hadn’t observed anything different about Julian. But then she probably referred to a longer period than the few days I’d known him. My curiosity threatened to kill me, so could this woman be a bit more precise, please?
“I know that look,” she said, and her off-key tone made the hair at the back of my neck stand up. “But you should be wise enough to see that there’s no way.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Curt and precise. He knew what she meant, all right.
But should I know, too? What way did the dragon mean, and who was she to preach to him?
I silenced my thoughts to hear more, when my mother’s harsh scolding of Julian drifted to me. “Of course, you know. Don’t think I’m stupid just because you’re that much older.”
Oh boy, she must have forgotten to take her pills. Mental disorder. He could have hardly be older than twenty, and she must have been way over forty. In teenager reckoning this was like comparing Apollo to Medusa.
Her sigh dragged through the room. “You can never give her what she needs. All you will do is hurt her.”
Her? A red-hot lance of jealousy stabbed my heart. Charlene was talking about another woman. No surprise, her mood had changed to snappy. From the very beginning, I suspected she wanted this man for her own, even if he played way beyond her age class.
But he couldn’t be taken. He’d told me yesterday, and I would swear he hadn’t lied to me. Just…no. I refused to picture him holding another girl like he had held me last night.
There…I…Oh, shut the hell up, Jona.
“I’m not intending to hurt her—or anyone. Don’t worry, I do know my place. My first and foremost duty is to you. Your daughter,” he said, pausing and then speaking with effort, “comes a close second.”
Your daughter? That was me! I clapped my hands over my mouth to kill the sound of my happy, shocked inhale.
Footsteps approached the door. I swallowed the shock and quickly dashed up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. At the top, I spun around and casually walked back down, pretending I hadn’t heard any of their conversation. But my heart raced madly inside my chest.
Spotting me on the stairs, my mother paused. For the blink of an eye, the awkward feeling of being caught stopped me in my tracks as well. A purple shrug, wrapped around her skinny shoulders, made her ashen face appear more sallow. Without saying one word, she hurried on into her room and closed the door.
Stunned, I remained on the stairs and stared down the empty hallway, struggling to shake off this unnatural feeling of guilt. I would have never thought it possible, but her sorrow left a sore spot in my soul.
Dumping the thought, I spun on my heel, ready to ascend to my room. But music coming from the parlor froze me in place.
Julian was playing the piano.
Captivated by the sweet melody, I wondered if this was what he’d gotten from Paul’s. I sneaked closer and peeked into the room. He wouldn’t notice me with his back toward the entrance. Good, because after what I’d heard him say a minute ago, I didn’t think I could look straight at his face. The feeling of confusion still wound around my throat, and words would have evaded me, anyway.
The beautiful chords he played filled both the room and me with calm. Clutching the doorframe, I pressed my cheek against the smooth wood, gazing dreamily out the window into the flaming red sunset.
It escaped me when the first piece of music ended and he started a new one. But at the familiar chords, I straightened with a start. He was playing my song. The one I so often hummed to myself, not knowing where I’d first heard it, or if I’d made it up by myself.
Only he didn’t just play the single notes as I would have hummed them. His hands caressed the keyboard up and down as they flew over this little melody of mine. A minute later, Julian cast a glance at me over his shoulder. His eyes all smiles, he winked.
Argh, caught.
My heart thudded against my ribcage. If it had pounded a note louder, it might have served him as a metronome.
With a slight flick of his head, he invited me to come over and join him on the piano bench. Ever so slowly, I walked toward him, worried I had misinterpreted his gesture. But that doubt vaporized the moment I approached the piano and he slid over to the end to let me take a seat next to him.
He leaned in, and his familiar smell filled my head. “Could you turn the page for me?”
On the stand sat a pack of music sheets with lines and notes, but I couldn’t begin to make sense of it. At this moment, though, I knew he’d gone to Paul’s only to get this piece for me. That was the reason he’d come with us to town from the beginning.
My fingers cold, I fumbled with the page, turning it over, then I sat so still one might have mistaken me for furniture. His fingers never stopped moving over the ivory. Sometimes they just stroked the keys, the next moment they pushed them down with firm insistence. It almost felt like he made love to the piano with his very hands. For the briefest moment, I wondered what it would feel like if he stroked me the same way.
My eyes skipped to his face, and I bit my lower lip, not wanting to explore this thought any further.
Twice more, he nudged me with his elbow and said, “Next page, please,” while he concentrated on the notes in front of him.
And then the piece ended, the final chords ebbing into silence. Hands clasped in my lap, I waited for him to turn to me.
“How did you know…” I uttered in a confused whisper. “This song. How did you know it’s special to me?”
He sighed. “How could I not know when you hummed it all day yesterday in the field?” He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind my ear and brushed his fingertips across my cheek before he dropped his hand again. A sensuous shiver shook me, and I picked up my former thought once more.
An awkward silence fell between us. With my throat too dry, I had to swallow twice to find my voice again.
“What’s it called?” I asked.
Julian smiled to himself as if this was a joke only he would understand. The next moment, his hand covered mine, and his warmth seeped into me. “It’s called ‘Hallelujah.’”
Hallelujah. The song had a name.
And what an irony the title was compared with my dreary life. It irritated me to no end that my hand wouldn’t stop shaking under his. And to make matters worse, my breathing had noticeably picked up speed.
I couldn’t allow him to see how nervous he really made me, so I cleared my throat something forceful and said, “Can you play it again?”
He wouldn’t take his hand from mine. Not before he smoothed
his thumb over my knuckles. Then he nodded and flipped to page one to read his way through the song once more.
My gaze switched back and forth between his concentrating face and his skilled fingers while he was performing this wonderful music for me. At his gentle shove I turned the pages, but eventually, I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, soaking in the soothing sounds. Certain that his dancing fingers never stopped to turn the pages, I wondered how he could have learned this piece by heart so fast. But not enough to ask, or even to open my eyes.
When the song came to an end again, the final note lingering in the room, I didn’t move. Neither did he. Only his head turned slightly, his cheek brushing my hair, and I felt his tender gaze searching my face.
“Again, please,” I whispered, and without a comment Julian agreed. His steady, masculine shoulder told me I wasn’t unwelcome, because if he had shoved me the tiniest bit, I would have backed away instantly.
He let me rest against him and listen for what felt like hours. Each time the song ended, it took only a little nudge of my arm for him to play the beautiful melody again.
And again.
All evening long.
THE ALMOST KISS
I OPENED MY eyes in my private castle the next day. The soft melody of “Hallelujah” still played through my mind. As they had every morning, the chirping of birds and a warm sun greeted me through my opened windows. Tucking the blanket up to my ears, I buried my cheek deeper into the soft pillow and reveled in the previous evening.
I lost count of how many times Julian had played my special song, or how many others he’d coaxed from the ivory keys on the piano. He must have played for hours. Just because I had asked him to.
Sometime after eleven, we’d finally ascended to our rooms and he’d bid me goodnight with a nudge of his knuckles to my chin.
Even though the story remained unclear, I knew Julian had entered my dreams again last night.
A sigh lifted my chest. I rolled on my back and put my arms behind my head. Soft light danced on the ceiling, reflecting off the opened window above my bed. Julian’s confessing words to my mother filled me with joy. Of course, his foremost duty was to her, his charge, but he’d named me a close second. He would never find out how much that meant to me.
