Mirror Bound

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  And I knew he was not really, for he had George to see to his every whim.

  Still, I couldn't find sleep easily, and I tossed and turned restlessly, until I found Lukas watching me again, with that same intense look that had left me breathless before.

  With my heart beating in my throat, and my love for him soaring, still I was confused.

  Ever since Lukas' real age had been revealed to us, it seemed he had started to live up to it every so often. He could still be the uncomplicated innocent I had fallen for, and who had wrapped Paul around his little finger soon after, but sometimes I got a glimpse of a much more involved, much wiser person, hiding inside the rakish youth we loved so much.

  And when that man looked at me intently from Lukas' eyes, as he did at this very moment, he took away my breath like Paul did, causing a collision of my feelings, for the love in those eyes was so deep, I couldn't imagine him having anything left to share out.

  And if Lukas were to claim my love, wouldn't that ruin everything we had built up together?

  Of course this Lukas could see right through me, and he took me in his arms really tenderly, belying the smouldering look. Holding me against him

  without touching me passionately, he didn't fondle my breasts, or stroke my skin, or feel between my legs. He just held me really close, his face against my throat, breathing in my scent, feeling my body touch his own.

  He let me feel his incredible need for me, and I couldn't help stroking his curls gently, a familiar gesture, meant to bring back my familiar beloved to me.

  And then he spoke, his voice deep and calm: 'It's not new you know, I've always had this serious side, you've seen it even before my father told you my age.

  But it has been getting stronger, living with the two of you, experiencing your commitment to your work and to each other

  And having a Gift bestowed upon me, and the responsibility that comes with it, the life-experience I've gained through healing people's minds, the things we've been through together.

  Defying my father. So much has happened, Melissa, how could I stay the man I was? I'm growing up, just like you.'

  He was right, he had been through a lot, even more than us, and of course that would change him.

  In fact, it was a miracle that he had managed to stay as innocent and unspoiled as he still was most of the time.

  'And learning to love a little bit more exclusively is not so bad, is it?' he asked me.

  I wanted to laugh and cry, but I did neither and just clung to him, knowing he'd catch my feelings straight from my mind, no need to elaborate.

  Of course I loved this new Lukas even more, how could I not, with the same infinite goodness, now actively changing people's lives for the better?

  Suddenly a realization struck me, of the incredible responsibility he had taken upon himself.

  Changing people's lives.

  It was so easily said, but such an immeasurable burden to actually do it, that it was too much for any person to live up to, it was a task more suitable to a god.

  And then I really needed Lukas' strong hold on me, for my organized mind put two and two together, his parentage, his long youth, his lovable personality, his innocence, the strength of his empathy, the profoundness of his talent.

  Under our very eyes, our very dear friend was coming into his own, years of boyhood ending, his manhood on the verge of a beginning, but not as a man.

  Holding me tightly, finding solace in my closeness, and offering me the same comfort, he whispered: 'I'm not a god, Melissa. I'm not. A god would not feel everything so intensely. There is so much suffering, here, and in my home-world, I cannot face it on my own.

  I need both of you, your strength, your compassion, even your morals, to change it. I will not claim your exclusive love, nor will I claim Paul's love for myself, and I do have love to share with others, but I need all the love you can spare me to face my future, to relieve the suffering I feel everywhere.'

  Suddenly I understood why he could not share my love with his father. He didn't want it for himself, he needed it to stay sane.

  And I understood why my dad had unleashed Hermes on him, and wanted him to conquer both his fear and his resentment. My father had known all along what Lukas' future was going to be like.

  .

  'And I hope you understand now why I need to stay here, with the two of you, learning a craft, one man amongst many, anonymously. I cannot go from loser to saviour in one long haul. I need time, time to accept my fate, time to learn as much as I can, time to have some fun, make my life worth living.

  Learn about my Gift, accept the sacrifices it demands, share the burden with the two of you, if you are willing.'

  And without any hesitation I let my tears flow, I didn't even try to control them, I wanted Lukas to have them, to feel them, I gave them to him freely.

  And he let me feel the full depth of his love for me, and it had grown again, more now than an ordinary man could feel for any person, but it did not frighten me anymore, for I knew my beloved had more love to give than an ordinary man, I knew he felt as much love for Paul, and still had to spare for countless others, friends or strangers.

  We held on to each other for some time, sharing love, and tears, and comfort.

  And when our tears had dried, and we had both recovered a little from the shock of our realization, Lukas kissed me with heat, his dented lip greedy on my mouth, his hands now exploring the wealth of my luscious body, and he asked me: 'Can we make love now?'

  And we did, minds and bodies as one, slowly for as long as Lukas managed, until finally he became restless again and plunged in me with his usual

  energy.

  When we were both exhausted and Lukas was totally out of breath, we gave ourselves up to sleep, and neither of us woke until dawn, when I opened my eyes to find him dressed and ready to go for his morning run.

  'Will you tell Paul?' I asked.

  He nodded, and said: 'When I return and we are working, we always talk a lot as we work, and I'll try to find the right words to describe the process I'm going through. I hope he'll understand, I guess he's seen some changes in me as well as you. Maybe you want to be there too?'

  I thought of the change in Paul himself, and I replied: 'I do want to be there, and I do think he will understand. He is changing too, you were right, we are all growing up.'

  Lukas left, and I snuggled up to my husband, who wrapped me in his arms and kissed me sleepily, good for at least another hour of intense love.

  But Lukas didn't get to talk to Paul that morning, before the guys were settled in the workshop Mr Jones visited to check on the commissions. He was very pleased with the progress, and they made a few appointments for installations. He had an offer for the framework of the greenhouse all ready, and he left it for us to look at.

  Paul offered him coffee and a tour of his masterpiece, and Mr Jones eagerly accepted, the word 'masterpiece' clearly music to his ears.

  And he was not disappointed, as he stepped on to the wrought iron gallery of Paul's apartment his jaw dropped, and he did not even attempt to get it in its rightful position until he wanted to drink his coffee. For Paul, it was a rare opportunity to show his best work to someone who really knew the workmanship involved.

  After Mr Jones left, Paul got callers he had never expected to receive at his own house in the reduced middle-class neighbourhood where he chose to live.

  A carriage stopped in front of the shop, and when someone knocked on the door it was clear we had visitors. Lukas ran to open the door, and we could hear him say: 'Sir Kenwick, Lady Kenwick, what a pleasant surprise! Won't you come in, let me lead you to Paul's workshop.'

  Paul had a second to prepare for his parents' entrance, and he rose to the challenge, dressed in his usual worn shirt and threadbare trousers, scorched leather apron, scuffed high boots, his face slightly smudged and his hair

  standing out in all directions.

  I quickly used a buffing cloth, always cleaner than Paul's work
ing clothes, to wipe off the worst soot-stains from his face, and I smoothed his hair with my hands. Then I kissed him full on the mouth.

  He laughed and turned to face his parents, whom I must say didn't seem to see their son's attire, for they were gazing at the fruits of his manual labour in absolute wonder. Fortunately the guys hadn't had time to really work this morning, so they weren't as grubby nor as sweaty as they usually were at this time of the day.

  Paul's mother now exclaimed: 'But this is beautiful, did you make all this with your own hands?' With a helpless look at both of us, Paul replied:

  'Together with Lukas, yes, I did.'

  She embraced her son and kissed him, and did the same to Lukas and me, still looking around her at all the marvels standing, hanging and leaning everywhere, in different stages of completion.

  His father had stood in total silence for some time, but now he came back to life and managed a warm embrace for Paul, saying: 'You are very talented, my son, a real artist. I can imagine this gives you pleasure to make.'

  This was a big concession on his father's part, and Paul repaid the compliment: 'Thank you, father, wait till you see the masterpiece, my sanctuary. And you will be pleased to know that I have found a new challenge in magic-use the last weeks, I'm planning to pick up practising for my testing.'

  This clearly made both Paul's parents very happy, and he asked them to come into the house for some coffee.

  They accepted of course, and Paul's mother said: 'Did Frances tell you about our plans to have a greenhouse built? We want one of those lovely winter-gardens, and she showed us your work,' this at me, 'and it was exactly what we were thinking of for our town-house. We hoped you might be interested to build it for us.'

  Picking up Mr Jones package, Paul moved towards the door, saying: 'If you please follow me, we can discuss that over some coffee, and we can check out this offer for a frame that Mr Rupert Jones has made us. He has built the glasshouse that inspired Frances for her commission to us.'

  And so we all went up two flights of stairs, and as they entered Paul's Gothic palace, his parents were really stunned for a few moments. They seemed to

  feel the almost religious atmosphere most people experienced when first entering it.

  The silence was broken by Lukas, who said: 'I'll make the coffee, will you help me, Melissa?'

  Of course I could take a hint if a mind-healer with twenty-five years experience in diplomacy hit me over the head with it, so I excused myself, and followed Lukas to the kitchen.

  Once there, Lukas kissed me lovingly, and confessed: 'I still like your dad best, though maybe Paul's and mine aren't so bad after all.

  He was all rakish again, and though he didn't fool me anymore, I still melted on the spot, for he was so cute and loveable. I took hold of his stubbled jaws, and kissed his dented lip, breathed in his musk, as much in love with him as I'd ever been.

  I wasn't afraid what our future together would bring, for though I realized it would be a lot less quiet if we were going to help Lukas to improve people's lives, it would also be very rewarding. Having been very much involved in his healing efforts so far, I had relived very painful experiences with his patients, but its effect had in all cases been remarkable, changing lives for the better so dramatically that the cost had been well-worth it.

  Of course the cost to Lukas was much higher still, but I was certain that Paul and I could always support him and help him bear the burden.

  A pair of laughing eyes on me pulled me out of my reverie, my thoughts miles away until I found Lukas so close to me that our faces nearly touched, my hands still on his cheeks and his arms wrapped around me, and he observed with one of his incredibly broad smiles: 'Don't worry, beloved, I'm still me. I won't forget how to make some fun, and I'm sure I will still do things without thinking them through first.'

  Then we kissed once more, and took the coffee, the cups, and a nice pie Lukas had just baked into the living-room, where Paul was still talking to his parents intently.

  His father now came towards us, and said: 'I'm sorry I didn't greet the two of you earlier, I must confess this visit had me a bit out of sorts, talking to your dad opened my eyes to why Paul had retreated from us, and I knew it was largely up to me to try to make repairs. You may have noticed social interaction doesn't come easily to me.'

  Lukas clearly expected me to be the first to say something, and since he was

  the diplomat, I did my duty to propriety, but in my own style, approaching Paul's father slowly so he could prepare himself, then embracing him familiarly, as I had done on the day of our wedding.

  He held himself admirably, not shying back or freezing, and I said: 'I did notice, Sir Kenwick, and I've always been aware of a similar diffidence in your son, clearly he has it from you, so I appreciate your efforts today at their full value.'

  Lukas shook hands amiably, and observed: 'Sir Kenwick, I'm certain Paul is very glad to see you here, showing an interest in his true calling. Thank you for coming.'

  A bit more relaxed now, Paul's father admitted: 'I never had an idea he was this good at what he did, there is so much artistry but also so much love in all this. And you have made him so happy, both of you. Thank you so much.'

  Of course Lukas was still an impulsive creature, and sensitive to love, and he could no longer control himself, embracing Paul's father as familiarly as I had, and the reserved noble accepted the intimacy with grace.

  Of course years of estrangement could not be undone in moments, but I could see Paul was happy with his parents' short visit, and an important first step was made towards reconciliation.

  We had coffee together, discussed the plans for the greenhouse, and Paul accepted a dinner invitation for the three of us, the next evening at his parents' town-house, not with the entire family, just themselves and his one sister still living at home.

  The idea was, that we'd come early and check out the possible building site, then have dinner afterwards. Of course the very idea of a formal dinner at my in-laws made me intensely nervous, and very insecure.

  How could I ever avoid disgracing myself with my lack of manners? I had fallen in love and married a youngest son from a noble family, but I never expected to have to mingle with that social class, the very idea frightened me as not even standing up to a god had.

  Both Lukas and Paul saw, and sent me an encouraging mind-touch, very sweet, but not very helpful, and until our guests left I was as out of sorts as Sir Kenwick must have been at the idea of having to seek a reconciliation with his youngest son.

  As soon as Paul had seen his parents to their carriage, and taken leave, he came towards me and wrapped me in his arms, saying: 'Dearest, don't worry,

  please. Why would you care what three stuffy nobles think of you? You are the best engineer in the city, contractors, builders and your former employer vie for your attention and pay you for your time. My parents and my sister have not done a day's honest work in their lives.'

  Put that way, I regained some of my dignity, why did I worry so much about looking unsophisticated and rustic? I was a professional and had always resisted bowing to propriety. 'You are right, love, what should I care what they think?' I replied.

  'On the contrary,' Paul said, 'let us make them think what we want them to.

  My parents offered their carriage to pick us up, but I refused. We'll take the bicycles, shake the place up a little!'

  But still I made the two of them explain the principles of etiquette to me during lunch, and the weird thing was, that despite the huge differences in morality and customs between Paul's upper class and Lukas', their habits and tastes were strikingly similar.

  After lunch, the guys really did put some work in, and I even got to help, filing and buffing castings fresh from their moulds Soon, the events of the day were talked through, and Lukas apparently thought it was time to tell Paul about his revelations, for he asked: 'I wondered Paul, do you think differently about me since you've learned I'm twice your age?'

&nbs
p; Paul looked up from the engraving he was making, a beautiful romantic hunting scene with ladies on horseback carrying falcons, ran his hand through his hair, giving it the impression of a curl-explosion, took a moment to formulate his thoughts and replied mildly: 'It not so much that I see you differently, nor that it started at the moment that your father revealed your age, but I do think you have changed, yes, quite profoundly actually.'

  It was clear that Lukas expected an answer like this, but worried whether Paul meant it as a good thing, or not. His cute face was a bit uneasy, until Paul got up and stood beside him, stroking his rough curls, then sat on his lap and kissed his dented lip.

  And then he said: 'If I think back at the person who dropped into our lives, helpless and dependent, and look at you now, self-assured and totally adapted to our weird society, I'm just stunned at the difference. But that is not all, that is just the surface-Lukas, a normal young man making his way in the world and growing up, like the two of us.

  There is more to you, the way you healed those children, the way you forgave your father, the way you seem like a child sometimes, and your real age at others, even before we knew you were older than us.

  I thought you'd grow away from us, but instead you seem to have grown towards us. Sometimes I feel our love for you is more important than our love for each other, Lukas.

  Do you know why that is?'

  Looking at our beloved friend with a wholly new expression, Paul just added:

  'I see you do. Please tell me. But first I want to kiss you all over again.' And he did, he licked Lukas' upper lip in that cute, deep dent in the middle, then kissed him passionately.

  And Lukas received that kiss with reverence, as if he could still not believe that Paul truly loved him.

  I knew now Paul had felt it too, the change in Lukas, and that his love for our dear friend was on the verge of an upheaval.

  But suddenly I also realized that worship was not what Lukas needed from us, he needed us to stay the same friends and lovers we had always been, his moral compass, the people who supported him, with whom he could be himself, even if he felt humble or insecure.