Collecting Thoughts

by Irene Davidson

  Chapter twenty-one

  “Well who knew there were so many mummified cats in Egypt?” Darcy muttered as she stared at multiple fabric-wrapped feline remains through the glass case.

  “Yeah,” Connor said happily, “and it says here that they got sacrificed when they were still alive, decapitated and filled up with sand and pebbles before they were embalmed.” He was reading from a book he’d brought with him. Darcy glanced at her son. Deep in the dimly lit bowels of the Louvre’s Egyptian Antiquities collection he was so totally in his element.

  Trust Connor to come prepared with additional gruesome information when it was subject dear to his heart, thought his mother. She was sure she couldn’t be the only parent on earth whose son found the subject of mummification so fascinating -although sometimes it felt that way.

  “Hey, and the archaeologists found little pots of milk and mummified mice with some of them when they opened the tombs. Coo-al!”

  “Amazing,” her reply was more dutiful than enthusiastic. Three solid hours of the Sully wing, culminating in ancient Egypt and she was flagging. They had started from the top and worked their way down. She had quite enjoyed the French paintings on the third floor, pausing for some time before the Ingres painting of voluptuous ladies in the Turkish Baths, and the Grecian statues and associated antiquities had been quite lovely but very old linen-wrapped dead things were not her forté.

  She searched around for Rosie and Gabriel. Both were crouched down studying what appeared to be a desiccated crocodile and from the wrapt expression on Rosie’s face it looked as if she was well on her way to catching the ‘mummy bug’ as well. Even Gabriel appeared every bit as enthralled by the exhibits as her children. Darcy shook her head in wonder.

  Her hair had come loose, again. Finding a seat, she gratefully plonked herself down, reaching up to refix the clasp at the back of her head before rubbing her hands over tired cheeks and eyes in an attempt to wake up. It wasn’t working. She looked up to check on the children and found Gabriel watching her with an appraising expression.

  “I think we’d better take your mummy for a cup of the Louvre’s strongest coffee or she’s gonna curl up in one of these open sarcophagi and go to sleep,” he pronounced.

  Rosie laughed, “If she did, would that make her into a French mummy or a ‘gyptian vampire?” she asked ingenuously.

  Darcy couldn’t help but smile. Her youngest could be quite the comedienne when she chose to. “Ya, I am ze vampire mummy -I vaant your blood,” she intoned in sepulchral tones, pulling her lower lip back and sticking her eye teeth over to appear vampiric.

  Rosie giggled in response and hid behind Gabriel’s legs, bending to peek between his knees and pretending fear between titters. Darcy frowned for a moment at the sight of Gabriel clowning with her daughter, wondering if it was such a good idea for her children to be getting so familiar with this man she barely knew, then, with her next breath, she banished the thought. She wasn’t going to ruin the day by looking a gift horse in the mouth. Gabriel had been fantastic with both children; patiently teaching Connor archery, uncomplainingly queuing for multiple ‘goes’ on favoured rides at Disneyland and he was delightfully playful with Rosie -and if he wanted their company that was fine by her. She’d grown up with too much of her mother’s poor attitude to anything good happening in her life to want to visit that sort of thinking on her children.

  Gabriel had been watching and had noticed the brief cloud come over her features but at her ensuing smile he waved a hand toward the exit door. “Let’s go and get that coffee, shall we?”

  Darcy nodded and smiled her thanks.

  “So, did I ace the test or fail dismally?” Gabriel questioned. Connor and Rosie had drifted along the café’s terrace to gaze down at the people in the Cour Napoléon lining up to enter the Louvre’s glass pyramid, after promises not to wander out of sight. The detritus of four meals and assorted drinks littered the table, soon to be picked up by their hawk-eyed restaurant waiter.

  “What test? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Darcy replaced the cup from her second coffee back on its saucer with exaggerated care.

  Gabriel sat silently and continued to look at her quietly, gaze unwavering. The waiter approached to clear the table but he waved him away, setting more than enough cash to cover the meal and tip under a glass, all the while maintaining eye contact with Darcy. She felt as if he was stripping her bare -and not in the clothing sense- she knew that look of barely reigned-in desire well-enough after having been on the receiving end of it more than once since their first meeting. This was different – the kind of expression a competitor in the business arena might fear – intuitive, intelligent, intense, and not taking any bullshit. All achieved with élan and inscrutable civility.

  He waited patiently, not probing, not speaking. It seemed that his good manners were more than just a veneer, she realised, - they went all the way down. His mother must be proud, she thought tangentially.

  The silence was becoming palpable. Darcy knew she was only postponing the inevitable if she didn’t come clean, right now. “I’m sorry you saw that. Yes,’ she paused, “you did. With flying colours, if you must know.”

  “I’m so relieved,” his reply sounded sincere. Hearing it, Darcy felt more confused.

  “Why us? Why me specifically?” she was compelled to ask, not being quite able to shake the notion that she wasn’t good enough for his attention.

  “Why ever not?” was his succinct reply. He stared across at her –with her puzzled eyes and her hair escaping every which way from the clips and clasps she had used in an unsuccessful attempt to tame it, and he wanted nothing more than to reach across and fill his hands with the crazy red-russet curls and kiss her pretty, bewildered-looking mouth.

  “But you could have your pick of anyone here.” She waved a hand to indicate the crowded terrace and the courtyard below, “Quite probably anyone in Paris. In France. In the world, if you wanted.”

  “Goodness. Whilst I am flattered and do deeply appreciate your summation of my appeal to the masses,” he smiled, more thankful than he could say that she’d finally started to warm to his charms, “it’s not been as easy to find the right person as you might think. Sometimes it’s hard to see the tree for the woods.” He purposely reversed the well-known idiom, lowering his hands to the tabletop and leaning forward, something she’d noticed he did when he wanted to exclude all others from his conversation and concentrate his focus on her alone, “By the way, are you including all the males as well in the whole ‘anyone’ thing? Because I don’t swing that way…I bat for one side only. Always have, always will. And I haven’t batted for that side for more than a year.” Closer to two, he thought, mentally counting back. His last relationship had ended badly –partially, he acknowledged, because of his over-commitment to work but equally due to her under-commitment to him. His mother was right, he knew, when she’d told him it was time he lived a more balanced life.

  He picked up Darcy’s left hand and idly started rubbing a finger over the indentation in her ring finger as he spoke. “I know you are recovering from the stinky skunk and I’m trying my utmost to be patient, but my mother will tell you, when we go to dinner at her house next Sunday –Darcy’s jaw dropped a little at the implied familial invitation,- that I am not a particularly patient man. So I hope that you will take this the way it is intended when I say that these past two weeks have been hell for me, playing the gentleman and not pressing you for more than you felt able to give. My resolve not to kiss you until you wanted to be kissed was wearing thin.” He put his lips to her hand and gently pressed his lips to her upturned palm. Darcy felt the tingle all the way to her toes. “I’m hoping that now that I’ve passed your ‘test’ I might be permitted to kiss you now.”

  “Um, thank you for that. I think.” Darcy took a deep breath –hoping to clear her head. She was still processing the whole notion of dinner-with-the-mother and her mind could not handle a lot more at this moment. “Um, that doe
sn’t mean you’re going to kiss me right now, does it?” she asked guardedly, “it’s a bit public for me.”

  “No, not here. Shall we round up the children and press on with the remainder of ancient Egypt?” he asked, climbing to his feet and smiling broadly.

  “Can’t hardly wait,” Darcy’s reply was droll. She clambered to her feet, hoping that the coffees she’d just consumed would be enough to keep her awake, if not completely alert, throughout the experience.