Pierre pulled her into his arms and bent down for a kiss. As she waited expectantly with parted lips, he whispered meaningfully, “Remember the wildflowers I brought you on our first date?”
“Yes, of course!”
“I just remembered, this is the meadow where I picked them,” he breathed, gazing into her warm hazel eyes that lit up like the moon.
“It was serendipity. Pure serendipity,” Belinda whispered as Pierre drew her into a kiss that tasted as sweet as wine and wildflowers.
*****
When Belinda performed her daily ritual of checking emails the next morning, she was taken aback to find that Lenore had not replied to her message. Perhaps she had taken her friend for granted and used Dr. Poet as a sort of transatlantic therapist. As she was about to write an apologetic email to Lenore, her cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Congratulations, girl! I had to call you! This is too important to talk about through email!” Lenore’s strong, smiling voice reached across the ocean.
Sighing with relief to hear from her friend, Belinda said, “Thank you so much! It’s so good to hear your voice. It looks like the wedding will be in early November. Please tell me you’ll be able to make it!”
“Oh, I will be there, you better believe that! I wouldn’t miss it!” Lenore enthused as Belinda clapped her hands excitedly.
“Fantastic! I mean fantastique! You should learn a little French before you come here!”
“I’ll try! This is the best news, Belinda, it really is.”
Belinda paused before presenting her friend with an important request. “Lenore, I have a question to ask you, and I hope you’ll say yes. I want you to do something very special at my wedding. And I don’t mean squeeze into a hideous pink bridesmaid gown! There won’t be any of that hoopla at my wedding. No groomsmen, no bridesmaids. And we’re saying our vows in a meadow!”
“That sounds like my kind of wedding! But you know I would have worn a frilly pink tutu if that’s what you wanted!” Lenore laughed.
“I have no doubt that you would, my friend! But why would I waste a good poet and sideline her when she should be front and center?” Belinda asked mysteriously.
“What are you talking about?” Lenore asked, confused.
“I want you to read a poem at our wedding. Any of your poems. It’s your choice. I know you’ll pick a beautiful one for Pierre and me.”
Tears dotted Lenore’s eyelids and her heart was humbled. “Belinda, I’m so honored. I don’t know what to say. Of course, I’ll read a poem at your wedding! I actually wrote one just recently about love the second time around. I think it would be perfect for you two.”
*****
November 2nd
Belinda & Pierre’s Wedding
The autumn day was pleasantly free of humidity and filled with sunshine. Belinda’s cream colored dress stood out against the backdrop of vivid green shrubs and plum wildflowers. In a curve enhancing gown with an empire waist, Belinda floated across the meadow like Venus incarnate. Holding a bouquet of vibrant flowers, Belinda exchanged vows with Pierre in both English and French. After the vows were recited, the guests proceeded to Pierre and Belinda’s garden where the reception launched with a live guitarist and soul singer. Hand in hand, the newlyweds made their entrance to the lively sound of applause and cheers mingled with the music. The spicy scents of French Creole dishes filled the entire neighborhood as the guests sipped Dom Perignon.
As planned, Lenore took the microphone to read the poem she had selected for the couple. Dazzling in a strapless gold belted dress, Lenore introduced herself to the guests. “Good evening, my name is Lenore, and I first want to congratulate my dear friend, Belinda, and her new husband, Pierre. I was honored when the bride asked me to read one of my poems at her wedding. The poem I am going to share with you is titled, “Replanted Seeds.” It tells the tale of a couple, like Belinda and Pierre, who have dared to fall in love again and open their hearts to the risk that love requires.”
Favoring Belinda with a smiling wink, Lenore cleared her throat and recited the poem from memory.
“Surely, he has loved before
And she was once the heart of another
Affairs behind them, uncertainty in front,
They separately sift through the uprooted earth
Left by their lovers of yesteryear
Wind blows in all directions, rain falls,
Then, suddenly, a massive drought ensues
To stifle the scattered seeds, pushing them further adrift
Forcing them to wither before they have even bloomed.
Despairing, amidst a dusty storm, he searches for fresh soil
As she somberly rakes what is left of her plantation
They have not yet met,
But their emotional lives run parallel
Seeds unfertilized, souls reenergized
By instinct to grow and again be vital
At last, on rain-drenched earth they meet
He is sober; she is shy
He feels aloof; she is afraid
They do not trust or believe,
Their row of crops is long and fragmented
But, together, these seeds will be replanted,
Into thriving grounds freshly painted with clear raindrops
Firmly replanted side by side where together they will
Wholly flourish in a garden of Once Again and love at every age.”
Hearty applause followed the completion of Lenore’s poem, and the bride’s eyes misted up as Pierre held her to his heart. Breaking away from her groom for a moment, Belinda rushed over to Lenore and encircled her in a bear hug. The women embraced for a long minute, both overwrought with a mixture of emotions.
“That was the most beautiful poem I’ve ever heard. Thank you. I can’t tell you what it means to me,” Belinda whispered in a trembling voice.
“It was my pleasure. Listen, I know you’re a busy bride today, but I wanted to tell you something,” Lenore said mischievously.
“I’m not too busy for you! Tell me!”
“I purchased a domain name and set up a website where I’m going to sell a collection of my poems as an e-book!” Lenore announced exuberantly as Belinda clapped her hands in excitement.
“That’s so incredible!! You’re finally doing it! I am so happy for you! Now you’ve just got to quit that job…” Belinda poked her in the arm playfully.
“Yes, I’ve got to quit my job, but more importantly, I’ve got to meet that fine looking man over there.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, he’s all mine!” Belinda joked.
“Not your husband, silly! I’m talking about that chef standing over there at the carving station.” Lenore pointed to a tall, chestnut skinned man with intricate braids covered by a white chef’s hat.
“That’s Crégoir! He catered the whole reception. Pierre hired him because he can cook French and Creole food better than anyone in the south of France. I think he’s from Guadeloupe originally.”
“Ooh, Guadeloupe! Very exotic. I think I need to get me some prime rib and introduce myself to that Nubian prince right now!” Lenore grinned flirtatiously as she sauntered over to Crégoir and struck up a conversation.
Belinda smiled broadly as she observed the potential new couple chat animatedly at the carving station. Returning to her husband’s side, she gasped when the first few notes of an Anita Baker song reverberated from the guitar strings. Pierre gave her a sly look and asked, “You didn’t think I would forget your favorite singer, did you? Come, let’s dance.”
As the singer crooned “Caught Up in the Rapture,” Pierre and Belinda slow danced in the center of the garden near the spot where they had once made love. The ground felt soft and fertile, and Belinda knew that one day soon, she and Pierre would couple there again. Resting her head on her husband’s shoulder, Belinda felt a pair of eyes on her and glanced up to see Crystal staring like a sad puppy dog from across the garden. Blowing her sister a kiss, Belinda focu
sed on the man who held her in his arms, the man who had stowed her away in Italy when she was a wanted fugitive. The man who would fly with her tomorrow for a glorious honeymoon in Australia. The man who had asked her to be the mother of his son. The man she had promised in two languages to spend the rest of her life with from this day forward…
Chapter Twenty
Sydney, Australia
Belinda & Pierre’s Honeymoon
Australia was worth every hour on the cramped airplane and every ounce of jet lag the newlyweds now endured. The land down under was an exotic paradise populated with wildlife that Belinda could barely pronounce, let alone identify: the wallaroo, koala bear, and bandicoot, to name a few. The wildness of the land was offset by the sophisticated vibe of Sydney. On the night of their arrival, Pierre had taken Belinda to see a performance at the iconic Sydney Opera House. The angular architecture that curved like a conglomeration of sharks’ tails looked as remarkable up close as it did in photos. Dressed to the nines in an ankle length evening gown and with a tuxedoed Pierre at her side, Belinda felt like a queen.
At one point during the performance, Belinda had thought laughingly of her Wyoming honeymoon with Daniel. As memories of roasting weenies filled her mind, she had struggled to maintain her composure during the somber performance of the Puccini love tragedy. But when the audience erupted into applause and cheers just before intermission, Belinda let out a stifled giggle.
The morning after the opera, Pierre had surprised Belinda with a room service breakfast before they headed out to explore the outback brush with a private tour group. The remaining six days had passed too quickly and, as Pierre opened the door to the honeymoon suite on their last night in Australia, Belinda felt wistful.
“This country is amazing. I don’t want to leave,” Belinda sighed, removing her earrings and flopping onto the bed.
Pierre lay down alongside his bride and murmured, “We’ll come back here. How about next year at this time?”
“You mean for our first anniversary?” Belinda inquired dreamily.
“Exactly. And next year we’ll try to book a two week trip,” Pierre appeased.
“Okay, but only if we take Marc! I would love to see his little face react to all the animals and birds here.”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking of him too. Tomorrow, we’ll all be back together. But for tonight it’s just you and me…” Pierre trailed off, reaching for the zipper on the royal blue cocktail dress Belinda had worn to dinner. “Mmmm, I’ve been waiting to hear that sound all night.”
“The sound of my zipper?” Belinda laughed.
“Oh yes,” Pierre kissed the nape of his wife’s neck before traveling tantalizingly down to her lower back and the curve above her round buttocks.
Belinda sighed, getting ready to savor another evening of intimate delights with her husband. They had made love every night of their honeymoon, and the passion only seemed to rise each time.
Her head fell back in an erotic daze as Pierre gripped her hips, sliding her silk string bikini panties down her thighs. Belinda helped him remove the burdensome garment, peeling it off her ankles and throwing it to the floor. In ecstasy, Belinda moaned as Pierre worked his fingers through her wetness, finding and targeting the secret places where her pleasure was the most intense. Belinda reached behind her, yanking on Pierre’s necktie, urging him to shed his clothes. Clumsily, he hauled himself off the bed, ripping off his tie and fumbling to remove the rest of the formal suit. Belinda flipped around so she could watch him, instantly craving contact at the sight of his rigid arousal and corded chest. She slipped out of the cocktail dress, leaving it a heap on the carpet with the rest of their clothing.
When Pierre urgently returned to the bed, they were both nude and impatient for union. Belinda eagerly opened her body to him, as he slid effortlessly inside her, moving with the rhythm that they had both hungered for during the long day of sightseeing under the scorching Australian sun. As night enveloped them inside the airy suite, they reached a tangled ecstasy, sweaty bodies entwined as one.
*****
With a steaming cup of tea at her lips, Belinda reclined on the front porch of her new home. Back from their honeymoon for a week, Pierre and Belinda were settling into the domestic side of their relationship. At first she had worried that moving into Pierre’s house wouldn’t provide a fresh start for their marriage. But Pierre had convinced Belinda that his home would be her home as well. He had redecorated alongside with her and agreed to her feminine touches in the bedroom like rosebud wallpaper and light birchwood furniture. The living room, formerly painted in masculine, muted shades, had also received a makeover. Along with a lighter coating of paint, Belinda had added a collection of velvet throw pillows on the sofa and vases filled with wildflowers on the mantel.
The kitchen was the one room in the house that Pierre and Belinda sparred over. He wanted to keep the entire room as it was, with his treasured espresso machine and pasta maker as the corner pieces. After much negotiating, Belinda had persuaded Pierre to incorporate her bakeware and fondue pots into the kitchen set-up. Both husband and wife spent too much time in the kitchen and often got in each other’s way, but the bedroom had a way of making all their arguments seem trivial.
“Be careful, Marc! Don’t play in the street! Stay on the property!” Belinda hollered, tensing and sitting upright on the porch swing.
As Marc ran back onto the property, she relaxed again, taking a sip of tea and flipping the page in her latest mystery book. The familiar chug of a Peugeot engine reverberated in the autumn air. Marc ran to greet his father, throwing his arms around his neck in a request to be lifted up. Pierre twirled the boy around in his arms, stepping onto the porch and giving Belinda a quick kiss.
“It’s nice to see you in the middle of the day. Are you going back for the dinner shift?” Belinda asked, surprised that her husband wasn’t at the restaurant.
“No, I’m home for the day. I told you when we were in Italy that I wanted to cut back on my hours so I could spend more time with you and Marc. And I meant it,” Pierre replied intimately, caressing his wife’s hair.
“You are a man of your word,” Belinda declared, patting the seat next to her and inviting her husband to sit down.
He sat by her side as Marc bolted off into the driveway, bouncing a basketball on the pavement. Pierre and Belinda remained silent for a few moments, lovingly observing the boy play and savor the simple joy of being a child. It seemed like an eternity ago that Marc’s life had hung in the balance in the hospital. And it still chilled Belinda to recall the night she was stabbed and admitted into the same hospital. The incidents were never spoken of anymore, as it was too painful for both Pierre and Belinda to relive.
As Pierre placed a hand over hers, Belinda sighed, feeling as though she could tumble into a nap right here on the porch swing. The bucolic neighborhood was blissfully peaceful. At night, all was silent except for a chorus of crickets outside and the sounds of Pierre and Belinda’s lovemaking. Still, as idyllic as her life had become, something was missing. Her chocolate shop…
Even though she had been exonerated in the double homicide investigation, Belinda still wouldn’t reopen her boutique at its original location. The storefront was tarnished in Belinda’s memory, and she couldn’t conceive of selling chocolates at that particular venue. Since the murders, the place had been boarded up until recently when an independent book seller signed a lease. According to Jean-Jacques, the bookseller knew exactly what had transpired via the chocolate shop and felt comfortable leasing the storefront as no food would be sold there.
Dark Chocolate Murder Page 21