Revenge of the Black Virgin

by Serena Janes

Jo put on a black suit, applied a thick layer of makeup and pulled her hair back in a severe twist. She didn’t say a word to James, handsome and somber in a dark suit, and remained silent as he drove to the chapel. As soon as she arrived she fell into her mother and sister’s arms, then suffered through the service. Afterwards she uncomfortably accepted the condolences of several hundred mourners. Now that the sedatives had worn off, she was bombarded by violent emotions and could barely keep her face from collapsing.

  Afterwards, she moved like a zombie through the obligatory dinner reception at the Clifford house. It was agony. She detested public shows of emotion.

  James was concerned that she had eaten almost nothing for two days. He filled a plate with food donated by friends and family, saying, “Come on now, sweetheart. You’ve got to eat. You look ill.”

  The sight of food sickened her, but she knew he was right. “Okay, I’ll try.” She looked down at the mounded plate and wanted to cry again. It looked inedible. Processed food-like substances held together by starch, corn syrup, gelatin and hydrogenated vegetable oils. For a moment she longed to be back in France. Where the food was real. Where Luc lived and breathed and made his own wine and cassoulet.

  She managed a little jellied fruit salad but when she recognized a lump of her cousin’s signature casserole, her throat closed.

  “I can’t eat this stuff,” she hissed at James under her breath. “It’s Adele’s condensed-soup-canned-water-chestnut-and-frozen-green-bean- casserole. It’s disgusting!”

  James gave her a funny look as he watched her carry her plate into the kitchen and ask her mother for more Tylenol.

  Her mother was in even worse shape than she was. Sharon Clifford looked like she hadn’t eaten or slept for a week. Jo and her elder sister, Julie, did what they could to comfort their distraught mother. But it was obvious to Jo that her parent needed James’ support more than her daughters’. Jo’s father had always made the major household decisions in the family, and now his wife would be left alone and confused.

  To give him credit, James had always been good with Sharon. The only time he left Sharon’s side all day was when he was catering to Jo’s needs.

  Jo watched him coaxing her mother to eat.

  Surely this is the man I should marry. Too bad for all of us. It’s not going to happen.

  Then, as the day wore on, she began to realize something. Through controlling Sharon and her estate, James was effectively controlling Jo. As she watched James offer Sharon his arm, she felt a wave of fury wash over her.

  My mother might need James to take control of her life, but I sure don’t!

  She was filled with a stronger resolve to break away from James as soon as she could.

  Tonight…if I can, if I can, if I can, she chanted to herself on the way home as she let her still-aching head roll back and forth on the headrest of James’ Mercedes SUV.

  It was past midnight when Jo and James got back to her condo, and she was too exhausted to protest when he started getting ready for bed. She felt a sinking sensation in her chest as she looked at the suitcase he’d brought from his apartment. There was enough stuff in there to last a long time. He hadn’t gone in to his office, nor had he gone to the gym, since arriving back from France. It appeared he was planning to stay with her twenty-four-seven for as long as it took.

  What’s he planning to do? Win me back? I have to tell him he’s wasting his time.

  She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. It did nothing for her. She still felt as weak as a kitten as she automatically washed her face and brushed her teeth.

  Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow. When I’m feeling stronger.

  She was relieved that he was still giving her space, at least, when they climbed into bed together. There was nothing sexual in the way he held her and kissed her goodnight. She even felt a bit comforted by his warm concern and soon fell into a deep sleep.

  Luc’s body was so big and hot and hard. She sighed in pure pleasure, moving her hands over his broad back, his shoulders and down along his arms, lifting up his sleeve to trace round his tattoo with one finger in the dark. He groaned when she snaked a hand around to touch his flat belly, pulling at his T-shirt to get to bare skin. She kissed his hair, the base of his neck, and reached her hand lower, under his shorts, excited by the size of his erect cock. Her fingers grazed it lightly and he moaned again.

  Quickly he turned around and embraced her, his mouth on hers, his hot tongue probing hers. She closed her eyes and moaned too, and whispered some words that made no sense. Then he was on top of her, pushing her legs apart, pushing himself inside her with his cock and his tongue—pushing, pushing, then pulling, hot and wet. And she opened her mouth, her legs, her heart and she breathed him in, but…

  What?

  It was the way he smelled. It wasn’t right. And the way he tasted. He felt different, too. And he was saying something in a voice she didn’t recognize. She stiffened and his movements slowed. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.

  James!

  It wasn’t a dream. Or, what had started as a dream about making love to Luc turned into a reality she did not want.

  James pulled back from her and in the semi-dark she could see a puzzled look on his face.

  “What is it, sweetheart? Are you all right?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she lied. “Just a little cramp.”

  James kissed her deeply and resumed his smooth thrusting but she couldn’t respond. It was all she could do to not push him off—but she knew he was past the point of stopping now. Almost right away he shuddered and was still, and only then could she get out from under him.

  “I’m sorry, darling, that I couldn’t wait for you. I was too far gone. It’s been so long. Come here,” he said panting, and reached a hand to her as she sat up on the edge of the bed. “Let me make it up to you.”

  She evaded his touch and headed towards the bathroom. “No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ve still got this cramp in my back. I think a hot shower might help. You should go back to sleep.”

  Under the scalding water Jo wept silent tears. She scrubbed away all traces of James as if her skin was tainted, crying for the lover whose skin she might never again be able to touch.

  She had to call Luc. As soon as possible.

  Chapter Three

  The morning after the funeral, Jo woke up with her head feeling clearer than it had in weeks. She turned over in bed and looked at James, still asleep. His meticulously barbered hair only slightly mussed, a light shadow of beard on his lean face. He’d been sleeping next to her for two nights now, and until her mistake last night he’d been respectfully hands-off, letting her grieve. She was sorry for what she’d done, and in an instant she knew that it was the last time they would make love. It wasn’t him she was making love to. They were completely over. And the first step to getting him out of her life was to get him out of her bed.

  But gently. Carefully. She didn’t want to hurt him. He still had the diamond engagement ring she’d refused to accept last month when they were in Paris. He still loved her, despite everything, and she expected another proposal was in the works.

  I have to do it today, she realized grimly. Putting it off any longer is cruel.

  She grew afraid as she looked at her handsome lover—her former lover, she corrected herself. She sighed deeply, dreading what she had to do next.

  James had proven to be a lot more difficult to handle than she’d first thought, back when she was busy falling in love with him. He was a very complicated man.

  But she had no choice. Joining the Cult of the Black Virgin had changed her. Now she knew the power of the primal forces deep inside her, dark forces long suppressed by the culture that created her.

  Since the moment she’d met Luc, her body forced her awareness of her basest desires—to give herself completely to her lover. Not James—the lover chosen by her intellect, the lover who would make a good match. The lover approved by friends and family. But instead the lover chosen by her bod
y. A foreigner. A man she hardly knew.

  Luc.

  And now Jo believed, as the Virgin insisted, that she could belong only to this man. The man who was desired by every atom in her body.

  She watched James sleeping and realized she’d be happier loving Luc, even if she never saw him again, than she could ever be with James. She sighed again, and this time he stirred. She got up quickly and dressed.

  James chatted comfortably as he brewed a pot of breakfast tea. “You seem to be adjusting, given the time differences, and everything. If only you’d eat something, I’m sure you would feel even better.”

  For a moment, breakfast seemed possible. “Is there anything for toast?” she asked.

  “Nothing good. Just hang on and I’ll run out and get some fresh bread. And some cheese.”

  He grabbed his jacket and was out the door before Jo had taken her first sip of tea. She was surprised to find herself alone for the first time in days.

  Since he’d plucked her out of Martel, James hadn’t said a single word about Luc. She imagined that if she married him he would likely never mention what had happened to her in France, ever.

  Yes, she would be forgiven for her indiscretion. She knew she should be relieved and grateful for such generosity. It was a proof of his love, she supposed.

  But none of that mattered any more as soon as she realized she had the privacy to do what she should have done yesterday—try to contact Luc. Surely it wasn’t too late to try to explain.

  Her hands began to shake now that she’d made up her mind to call him. She didn’t know what time it was in France, but she didn’t care. She had to reach him. She had to try to explain herself. Apologize. Beg forgiveness. Tell him she loved him.

  She went to look for her purse. Luc’s business card should be in there.

  It wasn’t. She impatiently threw the purse aside and began to search through her hastily-packed luggage.

  “Where the hell did it go?” she muttered to herself. “I swore I put it right…”

  Luc gave her the card just before he went home to collect the few things he would need for their lovers’ tryst, quickly scribbling his cellphone number onto it. The last time she’d seen it was when she lovingly tucked it into her wallet.

  But it’s disappeared!

  Where?

  How?

  Am I losing my mind?

  She undid all of the zippers she could find in her suitcase, hoping she’d stashed the card in a safe place. But no. It just wasn’t anywhere. Then her eye was caught by a scrunched piece of red cloth.

  It was Luc’s bandana, the one he’d tied around her neck the last time they made love. She fingered it lovingly, then held it to her nose, hoping for a trace of his scent. It had been soaked through with sweat from the both of them, she remembered.

  But it didn’t really smell like anything except stale cotton.

  Suddenly she heard the door open and close and looked up to see James standing over her. He’d seen Jo wearing the bandana in France, but he wouldn’t have known it belonged to Luc. Still, she must have looked guilty.

  He was frowning as he held out a brown paper bag.

  “Look. I bought a crusty whole grain loaf. And some of that Tillamook cheddar you like so much. What are you doing?”

  “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” His voice was all practiced innocence.

  “You know! The card!”

  “I don’t know anything about a card,” he said calmly. “Come and have some breakfast. I’ve got fresh orange juice, too.”

  Jo knew James could be an accomplished liar. After all, he was a mega-successful businessman.

  “You know damned well what I’m looking for. You took it, didn’t you!”

  James’ face remained neutral, but Joanna recognized tight restraint. It probably hurt him terribly to see her frantically searching for another man’s phone number, she vaguely realized.

  She began to cry. “You stole his business card, admit it! You went into my wallet and you took it!”

  Throwing the jumbled contents of her suitcase onto the floor in a heap, she collapsed beside them and began sobbing. “Can’t you see what a shitty thing that was to do? And it’s not even going to work, you know. I’ll find him. It’ll just take me a little longer,” she gulped for air and struggled to grab a tissue from the bedside table.

  James turned on his heel and left her sniveling on the floor, thoughts racing and panic setting in as she realized she had no hope of talking to Luc any time soon. Unless he contacted her.

  What the hell am I going to go now? An Internet search for his work number? It’s probably the middle of the night over there. But I can still call his office and leave a message. But wait…he won’t be there. He’s on vacation. Oh shit, what am I going to do? Call the tour company?

  But, she realized, he wasn’t a regular employee of the tour company she’d traveled with in the Dordogne region of France. He was just filling in for the regular tour guide, who was sick.

  How on earth can I find him?

  A few minutes ticked by as Jo sat on her bedroom floor and tried to prioritize the things she had to do. And then she heard the sound of dishes being set on the table and realized there was one thing she could do right away—ask James to leave.

  She took a couple of deep breaths, blew her nose, and gritted her teeth. Then she went out to him.

  “James, I know you think I’m upset right now. But I’m okay, really, and I have something important to say to you.”

  He eyed her warily before walking over to the dining table and sitting down, facing her.

  “All right. I wish you would eat something first, but I’m listening.”

  His hands were resting on the tops of his thighs, his back was straight, and he staring directly at her. It was his confidence pose, she knew. But she sensed he was scared.

  “Okay. Um, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. And my family. I really am. But…” She began to wad the sodden tissue in her hand. Her knees felt weak but she didn’t want to sit down.

  She watched carefully as the neutral look on his face changed to wariness. “Okay. But what?”

  “First of all, I don’t want you to sleep here anymore,” she blurted out.

  Short, bitter and clear. Let’s get the job done.

  “What? Why? What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that although you’ve been wonderful, and I don’t know how I would’ve made it through these past few days without you, I need some space. I think you should go back to your own apartment.”

  He didn’t respond immediately. Jo could see his intelligence working as he formulated his approach. She held her breath.

  His posture softened. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asked in a quavering voice she’d never heard before.

  “I guess I am.” She was too surprised to deny it. This was going to be easier than she thought.

  But what he did next took her completely off guard.

  He stood up, stepped towards her, then dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Please don’t. Joanna, don’t send me away. I can’t stand to think I’ve lost you again!” he said into her belly with that same odd little voice.

  He sounded so hurt that she was stunned. For a few seconds she didn’t know what to do, but then he stood up and began to kiss her face.

  She twisted away and tried to push him off. She felt both a crushing revulsion and a terrifying pity. The last thing she wanted was to break his heart. “No, James. It’s not going to be like this.” She was crying again, but pressed on. “I’m so sorry, but I meant what I said in France.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, looking at the floor. “I don’t love you anymore. I wish I did, you’re a wonderful man, but I don’t.”

  Her words seemed to have no effect as he struggled to wrap his arms around her shoulders, his face snuffling deeper into her neck. “You will, darling. I know you will. Once you feel more like yourself again. You know I c
an make you happy.”

  “I really don’t think so,” she said slowly, emphatically, trying to push him away. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Just go home. We can talk again tomorrow.”

  “It’s that Goddamned Frenchman, isn’t it?!” He pulled back, spitting his words at her, an expression of disgust creeping over his face. “That fucking foreigner! Can’t you get it through your head that he was nothing more than a holiday fling? He’s forgotten all about you by now, for chrissakes! Grow up, Joanna!”

  She recoiled at his attempt to hurt her, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. Then she looked him straight in the eye and retaliated. “It doesn’t matter whether he’s forgotten about me or not. What matters is that I can’t love you and that I’m sorry for it. But that’s the way it is.”

  “Listen to yourself,” he insisted. “You’re talking nonsense. You can’t go running after him.”

  Then she knew for certain. “You did take his card, didn’t you?”

  “What?” His voice sounded genuine but his eyes looked guilty.

  “Luc’s business card. You found it in my bag and you took it! Where is it?” She could feel fury building, flushing her face.

  Jaw twitching, James looked at the floor. “Gone. I threw it in the trash. Back in Martel.” He backed away from her.

  A fresh gush of tears blurred Jo’s vision as she fumbled in her pockets for another tissue. “Just go. I can’t talk to you anymore.”

  James shook his head and looked down at her. “You’re confused. You’re making a big mistake, Joanna.” There was iron in his voice now. “I’ll go now, but tomorrow I think you’ll reconsider what you’ve just said to me.”

  She didn’t answer, but merely stepped aside to let him collect his things. He packed his bag and left without another word. When the door closed behind him she drew the deadbolt and collapsed on the sofa in unrestrained sobs. Days of heart-wrenching pain and nights of terror lay ahead of her, she knew. And this time she had to face them alone. No sedatives. No warm body holding her. It was going to be bad.