“Of course! I’m not trying to check Marc out of the hospital! I’m just so happy, so relieved…” Pierre’s deep voice cracked and he faltered, placing a gentle hand on Marc’s forehead.
The nurse wrapped Marc more snugly in his blankets and explained, “It’s crucial to keep him warm now as his body temperature is dropping.”
Pierre nodded before venturing, “Nurse, could you tell me if another patient, Belinda Rockland, has been admitted to the hospital?” From the periphery of his vision, Pierre could see the murderous gleam in Juliette’s bloodshot eyes, but he ignored her.
“Ah oui! That poor woman they accused of being the chocolate murderer! That’s all anyone in the hospital is talking about. She was in the emergency room earlier tonight, but now I think they’ve moved her to intensive care,” the nurse informed proudly, apparently excited to be part of such an infamous criminal case.
“Thank you,” Pierre whispered gravely before bolting out of the room and stomping furiously over to the elevator. “Come on, come on!” He gritted impatiently, pressing both the up and down buttons outside the elevator.
Unwilling to wait another moment to be at Belinda’s side, he raced to a stairwell, grabbing a map of the hospital. In his haste, Pierre tripped over two stairs and flew with a heavy thud onto the landing. “Merde!” He swore as his lower back slammed into the hard tiled floor. Scrambling to his feet, he hurried down another flight of stairs until he reached the floor where the intensive care unit was located.
Completely winded, he gasped for breath as he implored the first nurse he passed, “Belinda Rockland? Where----where is she?”
Startled, the young, mousy haired nurse pointed down the corridor as Pierre took off in that direction. Nearly running down a man on crutches, he reached the corridor and peered inside every room. It was now well past two in the morning, and the entire ward was silent except for the insistent footsteps of the nurse who had indicated where to find Belinda.
“Monsieur, Monsieur, wait! You can’t be here right now. Visiting hours will resume tomorrow morning at 9:00,” the frazzled nurse said while chasing after Pierre. When he didn’t heed her instructions, she ran faster and said urgently, “Please, Monsieur! You’ll get me in trouble! I was not even supposed to tell you where the patient’s room is, but you caught me by surprise!”
Pierre didn’t slow down but instead continued his perusal of every room in the corridor. As he frantically searched for Belinda, he clipped, “I’m not dangerous! Just here to see my girlfriend!”
A heavy iron door separated one half of the corridor from the other. As the nurse shouted for him not to go through that door, Pierre yanked on the knob and ran through. This half of the hallway was abuzz with sounds and activity. Pierre frowned as he saw a throng of reporters with microphones and video cameras surrounding a room at the end of the hallway. Immediately, he knew that the media circus was stationed outside of Belinda’s hospital room.
Protectively, Pierre pushed his way through the hungry circle of journalists and blockaded Belinda’s room with his body. A white-robed doctor stood in the middle of the media mob, urging them to come back in the morning. But the journalists persisted, throwing invasive questions at the doctor and trying to bypass Pierre to enter the hospital room.
Making himself a human shield, Pierre gripped either side of the doorway and stood spread eagle, his strong legs creating an impassable barrier. From the doorway, he could hear Belinda murmuring in her bed. Quickly, he ran into the room and slammed the door shut, pressing a chair against the door to prevent the reporters from entering.
“This isn’t entertainment! Get out of here!” Pierre shouted.
Belinda’s eyes snapped open after hearing Pierre’s outburst. Disoriented, she looked frantically around her, instantly calmed when she recognized her lover’s face. Cautiously, she tried to sit up in bed, but immediately collapsed against the pillows, still too weak to hold her head up.
“Yes, lay down, Belinda. Don’t try to do anything. You need to recover,” Pierre soothed, sitting at her bedside and taking her hand.
“He stabbed me. That monster Philippe Debauche, he stabbed me,” Belinda muttered, her mind feeling cloudy from the pain medication she had received.
Pierre grimaced, wishing Debauche were in front of him so he could wring his puny neck. Caressing Belinda’s soft hand, he vowed to pay the low life a visit in prison and give him a piece of his mind. He wouldn’t be able to get his hands on the rodent, but at least he could force him psychologically to be accountable for his misdeeds.
“I know, sweetheart. But he can never hurt you or anyone else again. He’s going to spend the rest of his miserable life in prison. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to stop him from hurting you,” Pierre said, mentally tormenting himself for not doing a better job of keeping his beloved safe.
“No, you had to be with Marc. How is he, Pierre? Please tell me he’s okay now.”
Pierre smiled wanly and replied, “As a matter of fact, he is okay. His fever finally broke and he’s resting comfortably. We should be able to take him home within a couple of days.”
Belinda winced at the mention of “we” as she wondered who Pierre was referring to. Him and her? Or him and Juliette? Her features scrunched up in dismay, and Pierre mistook her expression for physical discomfort.
“Sweetheart, are you in pain? Do you need more painkillers?” He asked with deep concern.
“No, I’m fine. I was just wondering who you meant when you said ‘we.’”
“You and me of course!” Pierre replied like a reflex. Seeing his Belinda in this fragile condition after a tumultuous separation made him want to gather her up into his arms and take him to his house right now.
“Oh. But Juliette seemed so---jealous. Is she still in love with you?” Belinda ventured, the words leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.
Pierre laughed heartily. “No, she is definitely not in love with me! What you witnessed was classic Juliette. I even told her myself tonight that she’s a drama queen. She thrives on being the center of attention. She’s an actress in every aspect of her life, and she can’t bear to be upstaged. Your beauty and the love I feel for you threatened her ego. But that’s all it is. Pure ego. And those were crocodile tears she shed.”
Belinda wasn’t fully convinced but she pursued the subject no further. “When am I going to be getting out of here?”
“When you’re well enough,” came Pierre’s stern reply. “There’s no rush. I’ll be spending all my time in the hospital going back and forth between your room and Marc’s until you’re both released.”
“You’re a good man,” Belinda whispered, her hazel eyes warming to a cappuccino shade as she gazed at him. Smirking, she admitted, “When I first met you, I thought you were an insatiable rogue!”
“Well, I am,” Pierre chuckled, “Insatiable, that is.”
“Yes, you certainly are! I’ve missed you. How many days has it been?” Belinda asked, not even sure of what the current day was.
“Too many,” Pierre whispered, softly kissing her on the lips before retreating and staring angrily at the bandage on her neck. “Are you hurting?”
“Not anymore. Now that you’re here, all my pain is gone,” Belinda sighed, drawing Pierre’s face down to hers for another kiss.
Outside, a collection of fists pummeled the door as the reporters still fought to get in. Belinda pulled back, frightened by the noise. “Pierre, who’s pounding on the door like that?”
Tightly, he replied, “Those TV reporters! They’re trying to break into your room to get a story. I don’t know why the hospital hasn’t called the police. I’ll have to do it for them,” Pierre whipped out his mobile phone and dialed the police.
Belinda wore a half-amused look on her face as she pondered, “So I’m still famous? First, everyone thought I was a murderer! Now I’m just some poor woman lying injured in a hospital bed!”
“You’re not ‘just’ anything, Belinda Rockland. You are the
love of my life. And get used to me because I will never leave your side again.”
Chapter Eighteen
The seaside promenade was peopled with dog walkers, children, and romancing couples. As a vermilion sunset bled across the sky, Pierre and Belinda strolled hand in hand along the Promenade des Anglais. The summer air was crisp and the horizon bathed in varying pastel shades reminiscent of a nineteenth century painting.
“I didn’t think it was possible to see a more beautiful place than the ones you’ve taken me to already, but this walkway is absolutely dazzling.” Belinda looked up at Pierre with shining eyes as he intensely returned her gaze.
“This promenade is famous. French painters like Marc Chagall and Henri Matisse have walked here and created paintings inspired by this scenery,” Pierre educated Belinda as she listened avidly.
“My first art history lesson. I love it!” Belinda giggled into Pierre’s ear as he moved his hand to her waist.
“I just like that you’re here with me and feeling better,” he murmured.
In the two weeks since Belinda and Marc had been released from the hospital, both had made tremendous strides towards recovery. Marc was a fresh little boy bearing no sign of his prior illness and possessing only vague memories of the ordeal. With the exception of minor soreness and a light scar at the spot where Philippe’s knife had grazed her, Belinda was also feeling brand new.
Eager to reprise her starring Broadway role, and a glamorous big city lifestyle, Juliette had faded into oblivion. In fact, they hadn’t heard a peep from her since she flew back on her broomstick to New York the day after Marc’s fever broke. Belinda respected the importance of a woman’s career but could not justify a job taking precedence over a child. But she couldn’t complain; better for Juliette to be thousands of miles away than making their lives miserable as she surely would if she lived nearby.
“Should we go get a cup of coffee?” Belinda suggested lightheartedly.
Pierre looked at her in surprise and frowned. “No, no coffee right now. Let’s keep walking. I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise? Oh, don’t keep me in suspense!” She begged.
“Just keep walking, young lady. I want us to go all the way down to the sea and walk through the water.”
In a mesmerizing silence, Belinda walked alongside Pierre past a row of elaborate sandcastles and a group of children snickering as they poured buckets of grimy water onto the creations. The lovers removed their sandals and walked barefoot on sand that was cooling as the sun vanished for the night. Belinda inhaled the fragrant air, clearly envisioning how a painter would consider this picturesque location as an artistic muse.
“If I had a paintbrush, I would paint this entire seascape. Did you bring a camera?” Belinda inquired.
“Yes, I definitely did,” Pierre replied mysteriously.
When they had reached the water’s boundary and their feet caressed shallow waves, Pierre stopped and pulled Belinda against him. He kissed her windswept hair and delicately stroked the injured part of her neck. Belinda bowed her head in wonderment, not wanting to speak or in any way denigrate the magical moment that was blooming between them.
To her surprise, Pierre took a few steps back and searched his pants pocket. He retrieved a heart shaped box and dropped to one knee on the sand. Belinda’s eyes widened in astonishment as she realized what he was about to do.
“From the first time I saw you in your chocolate shop, I knew I would fall in love with you. But I didn’t know how deeply I would fall. Je t’aime de tout mon coeur. Yes, I love you with all my heart. You are more than the woman of my dreams. You exceed every fantasy I’ve ever had about any woman. I want you to be my wife and Marc’s mother. Belinda, will you marry me?” Pierre looked at her expectantly as tears welled up in his eyes.
Teardrops fell down her cheeks as she whispered on a trembling breath, “Yes, I will marry you!”
Immediately, Pierre slipped the diamond ring onto her finger and stood to embrace her. The diamond shimmered against the backdrop of the sea, but Belinda didn’t notice. All her attention was focused on the man who had just become her fiancé, the man who had opened his heart and his entire world to invite her inside. She kissed his lips as their tears blended together to create a salty unity. Getting engaged was definitely more emotional the second time around, or would it always have felt this way with Pierre? Belinda wasn’t sure of anything except that she couldn’t wait to be called Mrs. Pierre Cédaire.
*****
“Let me tell you the stores in Monaco where you should register! There are so many ritzy shops around here, almost as many as in Manhattan! I’ll go with you to make your bridal registry! And pick out china patterns! Are you free this afternoon?!” Crystal chirped rapid-fire over the phone.
It hadn’t even been twenty four hours since Pierre had proposed, and Belinda wasn’t ready to create a bridal registry. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted one. It seemed like such a presumptuous thing to do. Shouldn’t guests be allowed to bring whatever gifts they pleased and could afford?
“Slow down, sis! A registry is the last thing on my mind. First and foremost, I need to find a gown that fits! Pierre and I have been going out to dinner practically every night since I got out of the hospital. And he’s been making me these huge American breakfasts in the morning with buttered toast and stacks of pancakes. I’ll be lucky if I can fit into a tent!” Belinda laughed in her signature self-deprecating way.
“I just saw you the other day, and you’re as foxy as ever. Maybe just with a few more curves!” Crystal replied honestly. “So when’s the wedding going to be? Will you be a summer bride again?”
Belinda didn’t so much as flinch at the indirect reference to her first wedding. A few months ago, she couldn’t stop making comparisons between her ex-husband and the new man in her life. But, somewhere along the way, memories of Daniel had faded to black, and now Belinda could barely picture his face in her head. The realization that her dismal marriage had finally become laughable made Belinda tingle with joy. Yes, Pierre was Mr. Say Dare, and Daniel was Mr. Irrelevant! Belinda giggled mindlessly as Crystal inquired quizzically, “Did I say something funny?”
“No! I’m just so happy right now. Everything makes me laugh!” The white lie flowed from her lips as she contemplated when the wedding should take place. The idea of being a summer bride in the south of France was an enticing one, but with the mild climate, a wedding in November could still feel summery.
“I think Pierre and I will plan an autumn wedding. We don’t have enough time to make arrangements for summer nuptials,” Belinda explained before revisiting Crystal’s well-meaning but meddlesome idea of a bridal registry. “And I want this to be a small wedding. Nothing ridiculous or fancy schmancy. I want it to be simple and elegant. And a bridal registry doesn’t really go with a simple wedding. I want the guests to feel comfortable giving what they choose, not what I dictate.”
“Oh, Belinda,” Crystal sighed wistfully, “You’re forsaking your one chance to be a diva! This is your day, and you can have it exactly the way you want.”
“But this is exactly the way I want! Honestly, Crystal, I just care about being Pierre’s wife, not his bride, if you know what I mean. It’s the marriage I’m excited about, not the wedding.”
A long, awkward silence was the only reply that came from the phone line. Belinda bit her lower lip, knowing she had struck a nerve. Her sister wasn’t the envious sort, but after what had been revealed about Jean-Jacques, Belinda wouldn’t blame her for being a little green.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” Crystal replied sulkily. “Before the wedding, I was excited about being married to Jean-Jacques too. But the only thing waiting for me was boredom and frustration.”
“Are you insinuating that my marriage is going to be that way?”
“No, not at all. I already told you what I think of Pierre as a man. He’s not anything like my useless husband,” Crystal sighed sha
kily, and Belinda perceived that she was crying.
Dark Chocolate Murder Page 19