The Passion Play

by Amelia Hart

  “Put me down. I have to get my lipstick.”

  “Do you? Do you have to wear it? I like your lips all pink and naked,” he looked at them with wistful yearning so she blushed and rolled her eyes. As if he had not laid enough kisses on them already. “Please? And then you can do that little thing you do where you put your finger on them that makes me want to eat you alive.”

  “Do what? I don’t do anything like that with my finger.”

  “Yeah you do. You don’t watch yourself.”

  “And you do, I take it?”

  “You better believe it. My car or yours?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t care. Anywhere. You choose. No, wait, how about that little place on Burdock Road that does all the fancy French stuff? They have candles on the table and these secluded booths. I bet you look real pretty by candlelight.”

  “Okay, okay,” she laughed, not quite immune to his flattery. “French it is. You could give me a chance to put on something nicer.”

  “Nicer than that thing you have on with the big dip down to here and the little hint of your breasts showing? No, you’re fine. I want a chance to make clever conversation and if you’re too much of a knock-out I won’t manage it.”

  She looked down doubtfully at her blouse, which she had thought perfectly professional when she put it on this morning and went to her work appointment. Breasts showing? Surely she did not have enough in that department for them to show themselves. What was she missing? “You’ve already passed the cleverness test,” she said absently. “You don’t have to worry.”

  “You think that means I give up trying to impress my girl? Not a chance,” he said sunnily, herding her towards his car. She sucked her lower lip in between her teeth and squeezed it, troubled by his words. She just was not ready to be anyone’s girl. She was her own girl, her own woman, or trying to be.

  She was quiet in the car, wondering if she should bring it up, correct him. After a few minutes wrestling with it she gave up. They had had this out already, nothing had changed. He knew that. Talking over it again would only ruin the mood.

  Going out for dinner was hardly earth-shattering. Just her feeling sorry for stifling his social life, since he had clearly decided he would rather be at her house for the moment than doing whatever it was he usually did with his evenings. And while she could certainly have chased him out of the house if she chose, she had to admit she did not really want to. She had come to enjoy his company. She looked forward to him arriving. The companionship was . . . well it was nice. He was becoming her friend. Was already her friend, really, though for her it usually took months or even years before she let a person in so far as to call them that. But he with his charm and assumptions and . . . well . . . tenderness with her had rather let himself in.

  She did not want to send him away. Everything was fine how it was, and she was just making sure she was properly thoughtful by taking him out.

  That was all.

  Dinner was close to perfect. The meal was absolutely gorgeous, the restaurant quiet and intimate. Luke kept things light, bantered with her and made her laugh, but she kept finding a look of satisfied pleasure on his face as he surveyed her that had her squirming. She could not name the host of emotions under her skin.

  “I haven’t done much traveling, no. I met Dan halfway through college, and he didn’t want to. He had just been promoted and didn’t want to take the time off. Plus he said it was a waste of money, burning through tens of thousands of dollars for a few months experience. And of course I had to agree. It doesn’t make good financial sense. So I just started work and I’ve never really stopped. How about you?”

  “I’ve been a few places. There’s always more to see, of course. And yes, travel can be expensive if you want it to be, specially if you’re rushing round trying to do everything. But if you go slow, meet people, make friends and get a real feel for the place, you get a connection and an understanding that’s far richer. It costs less, too, though I guess you don’t worry about that so much anymore.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. That’s what I am planning to do in Spring.”

  His eyebrows went up, the fingertips that played idly with the stem of his full wineglass stilled. “Oh?”

  “I’ve booked a flight to London. I’ll go from there to Europe. I’m not exactly sure where. Maybe I’ll figure it out as I go.”

  “When are you coming back?” His eyes had narrowed.

  “I don’t know. A few months later, I suppose.”

  “Doesn’t that conflict with . . . your other plans?”

  “Oh-” she could guess he meant the baby. “That. Well, who knows how long that will take? I mean, I can put it off for a few months, think about it after my trip-”

  “Or it might have happened before you go,” he said quietly.

  “Well I suppose it’s possible. But I don’t think it’s very likely. I mean I was trying for years with Dan, and nothing- Uh.”

  “You never know. Things might be different with me.”

  “They might be. But you know what? I’m not going to worry about it,” she said defiantly. “I’m not going to try to get everything perfect, and planned out, and nailed down. The only thing that’s certain is I have a plane ticket booked, and I do plan to go and enjoy myself.”

  “I’ve never been to Europe. Paris is supposed to be beautiful in the Spring. Very romantic.”

  “Yes, well maybe it is. Anyway I think I’ll have the chocolate tart for dessert. It looks delicious.”

  “You know what really mystifies me? How someone as sweet and tender as you picked a guy like Dan. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Really.”

  “No sense at all. But you must have loved him. I’ve been trying to figure out why.”

  “He’s a great salesman.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I said he’s a great salesman. He decided he wanted me, he went after me, he got me. He did what he needed to to convince me he was wonderful. And I believed him. I was too trusting. And then I was too loyal. It took me forever to see who he really was underneath the pretenses. Even then, it was he who called it off. It’s so hard to admit when you’ve made a mistake. Particularly when it’s gone on so long.”

  “That’s a harsh reward for keeping faith.”

  “I know. Don’t sympathize too much. I was a fool. Besides, I’m trying not to feel sorry for myself. I’m doing a fairly good job of it, too. I don’t even think of him much anymore.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You’ve helped with that, you know? Whatever else, I want to thank you for being around, taking my mind off him, giving me something else to think about.”

  His eyes were shadowed, but his tone was even as he said, “Glad I could help.”

  “You’re a nice guy. I just wish I could be more- I wish I’d met you at another time.”

  “I don’t.” He picked up her hand, held it in his, the warm calluses of his skin rough against hers, and stroked a line up the center of her palm with his thumb. “There’s no point thinking about might-have-beens.” He tilted his head forward to look at her under his eyebrows and she felt the intensity of it go through her like a lick of flame, his casual good humor vanished. “We have us, and what we can make of that. We’re good together, and that’s not about the right time, or getting things perfect. It’s about how we fit. And we fit damned well, and always will. Don’t pretend you don’t feel that.”

  “I’m not pretending. I’m just being realistic. This sort of thing wears off-”

  “Does it? Not this. I know you’re happy around me-”

  “Maybe. Yes. I’m happy because you’re not Dan. You’re very different, and that’s great-”

  “No. That’s not okay. You don’t get to make this about him-”

  “He was my husband. We were together for twelve years. Of course anything that happens between us will be a result of-”

  “I don’t want to hear it.”

  �
��That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  “It’s not true, dammit.”

  “Please don’t be angry,” she whispered.

  He took a deep breath, and almost visibly reined himself in, released her hand and sat back in his chair. “I don’t mean to be. But when you say something so wrong-”

  “Can we just leave it? Can we just have a pleasant dinner?”

  “This can’t go on forever, Felicity.”

  “I know,” she said sadly. “You know, you could call me Lissa.” As he had the other night, at that moment. She refused to blush at the thought. “My closest friends do.” She offered it as a concession.

  For a long moment she waited, watched the tense muscles in his jaw flex, then release. He lifted his hands, rubbed at his temples with his fingertips.

  “Sure,” he said, and he sounded weary.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. Our second date and I have to ruin it by squabbling.”

  “It’s not a date,” she said automatically.

  His nostrils flared, and then he seemed to make up his mind to something. “No? Well, whatever it is, I seem to have better luck in the sack with you than out of it so I’ll stick with that.” He lifted his glass in a silent toast to her, and drank deeply. When he set it down he took her hand again and began to stroke it suggestively with the pads of his own fingers and thumb, back and forth, back and forth, his eyelids lowered and a sultry smirk on his face. She felt her chest start to rise and fall as her breathing quickened.

  He cleared his throat, and his voice was husky when it emerged: “Have you eaten enough? Would you like to go back to your place now?”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” she said.

  They paid and left, he a bulking presence behind her shoulder, a heat in the air. Then he put his arm around her shoulder possessively and she let him, leaned into him, as eager as he to escape into the mood they could create between them of reckless passion, earthiness and fire.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The knock on the door was unexpected. She had just finished making a macadamia paste. Luke was outside putting another plant into the ground before it got dark. She had no idea who it might be, trying to think – as she went to the door – if she might have forgotten a visitor. Her mind went to Dan, and she checked through the peephole.

  But no, it was Hamish and Karen MacKenzie. Hamish had been a member of the football team five or six years ago and they still kept in touch occasionally, more because they moved in the same circles than because Felicity had a strong liking for them. Instinct told her they had dropped by to gather fresh gossip on how she was handling the separation.

  Nonetheless she pasted a gracious smile on her face.

  "Karen! Hamish! What a pleasant surprise."

  "We were just in the neighborhood," Karen said. "Thought we'd drop by." She stepped forward for a hug, then held a jar out thrust in one hand. "And to bring you this. I've been making jam. Blackberry."

  "Oh thank you. That's so thoughtful. Would you like to come in?" asked Felicity, obedient to their clear expectation. She swung the door wide.

  "Love to. We can't stay long. We're on our way to a movie. But I said to Hamish if we were coming this way we had to come to see you. It's been such a while."

  "Four or five months, I think," Felicity agreed, walking towards the living room and kitchen. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

  "Seven months at least. Not since the Debenhams party."

  "Oh, is it that long? Time goes by so fast."

  "It does," said Karen.

  "I'd like a coffee, thanks," said Hamish.

  "I'll have one too." Karen settled herself on the sofa, her purse at her side, and looked around the room with curiosity.

  Hamish put his hands in his pockets and wandered to the window, gazed out on the gray day. "Having some work done in the garden, I see."

  "Pardon?" asked Felicity, raising her gaze from the water she was running into the kettle. "Oh, yes." Luke was down on one knee, patting dirt in around the small shrub he had just planted. "I should ask him if he wants a cup too."

  "I'll go," said Karen, and was out of her seat and across the room in a moment, jewelery chiming softly as she opened the French door and slipped her well-kept figure out into the cold of the Fall evening.

  Felicity poured fresh coffee beans into the espresso machine, and said to Hamish, "I'm sorry, I don't remember how you take your coffee."

  "Long black, thanks."

  She chose the correct cup from the cupboard and set it in place on the machine, then pushed the button. The machine whirred and purred and gurgled. She turned to watch Luke and Karen in the garden. Luke stood listening to Karen, smiling politely. Her body was inclined toward his in a way that made Felicity think of flirtation. She pressed her lips together.

  "Sugar?" she asked Hamish.

  "No, thanks." He too was watching his wife, a frown lowering his heavy brow. "So is this your regular gardener, or are you doing something major? Looks like you've had some of the trees taken down."

  "Luke's qualified as a landscape architect."

  "Does the work himself, then?"

  "Mostly, though he had a guy come in to grind the stumps."

  "Where did you find him?"

  "He's on the team, actually. I'm surprised you haven't met him yet, or seen him on TV."

  "Maybe he does look familiar. Yes, you're right, I do know that face, now I think about it. They can't be paying well these days if he has to take on a second job."

  "He's not in it for the money, I'm certain. He just enjoys the work."

  Hamish turned to scrutinize her, standing by his arm with his coffee cup in hand, and Felicity felt very self-conscious. She did not like to mislead him, but she also did not want her connection to Luke to be public knowledge. Nor to face judgment for so swiftly moving on from her marriage, only weeks after Dan had left.

  Karen and Luke were walking slowly towards them now, Karen talking and waving her hands, and Luke nodding. His head came up and his gaze stopped on Felicity's face. She thought he was trying to read her expression through the glass, to gauge how she felt about this unexpected intrusion. Would he see her discomfort?

  "Yes, Luke will have a coffee," Karen announced as she stepped through the door, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed deep pink.

  "Yes please," Luke said, and propped himself in the doorway as he toed off his boots.

  "And how do you take yours, Karen?" Felicity asked as she turned back to the kitchen.

  "Double-shot latte with sugar, please."

  Felicity busied herself at the machine while the others talked. She was on edge. What would Luke say? Would he make the extent of their relationship clear, and embarrass her? Or would he guess she wanted privacy and be evasive?

  "It looks like you have a lot underway out there. Is there much more planned?" said Karen.

  "Quite a lot, but Felicity wants it done one step at a time."

  "You were working so hard, too. I was sorry to interrupt you. Hamish, we need a few things done on our garden, don't we?"

  "I think we'll be fine for now," said Hamish repressively. "It only needs a good weeding. Nothing we can't hire one of the neighborhood kids to do. No need to bother a landscape architect."

  "Oh, a landscape architect," said Karen in admiration. "You didn't say that, Luke."

  "I don't take on a lot of jobs. Almost none, in fact. I guess I don't feel I can really lay claim to the title," said Luke, his eyes on Felicity's face. His lids were half lowered, his gaze cool, and she thought she could read disappointment and resignation there on his features. "This project just appealed to me. Plenty of scope to improve it without major earthworks. And Felicity has always been kind to me since I joined the team, it's nice to do something for her."

  Hamish nodded and Karen beamed, and suddenly Felicity could not bear to pander to them. Two people she did not really like, their expectations of her and how she should be, set agains
t Luke, who she did like too much, with his closed face and expectation she would hide their relationship out of something like shame. She walked to the three of them with a coffee cup in each hand, passed Karen's one to her, then stepped in close to Luke, well within his personal space, her body inclined towards his, and laid a hand on his forearm as she held out the other cup to him.

  "Have a shower, if you like," she suggested with a smile, "then come and sit with us. Hamish and Karen are going on to a movie, so I'll make our dinner a little later and then we can snuggle up and watch a movie ourselves." Then she lifted her chin for a kiss.

  He gave her one, a brief salute, his eyes gleaming, and went from the room with a light step, taking his coffee with him.

  Without meeting the stares of her two guests, Felicity went back to carefully select a herbal teabag and pour herself a cup of hot water. Her head was still down as she crossed back over the carpet, as if cautious not to spill a drop, and she eased down to the sofa and dunked the bag delicately, as if she did not notice the silence.

  "Well. That Luke is very good looking, isn't he?" said Karen. "I guess you're enjoying yourself."

  "You could say that," said Felicity politely, tilted her head to one side and blinked, innocently vapid.

  "It's not very respectful, though, is it?" Hamish's tone was heavier.

  Felicity gave him an inquiring smile that did not reach her eyes. "How do you mean?"

  "So soon. And dating someone from the team. The age difference, among other things. People will talk, you know. I don't think Dan would like it."

  "Perhaps you're right," Felicity said as if she had not previously considered the matter. "Ah well." And she shrugged, and pretended to sip her too-hot tea.

  "Of course this has all been very upsetting, I'm sure," said Karen, offering an excuse. "The separation and all. You must be feeling very strange, married for so long and then poof," she made a descriptive gesture with one hand, "your whole life suddenly gone. You must feel adrift."

  "Not particularly," noted Felicity.

  "Adrift or not, people will talk," said Hamish, refusing to surrender his point, frowning eyebrows almost meeting over his big, previously broken nose.