Haeven

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Haeven Page 17

by S. M. Bowles


  “Just in case,” Penny smiled.

  “After you,” Herrik opened the door, said a quick goodbye to Penny and motioned me through.

  “Have a good time!” she called as I glanced back to wave goodbye.

  It was quiet and dusky-dark while we walked side by side through the garden. Neither of us spoke and after a few minutes I began to feel as though Herrik had lost some of his buoyancy. I might not have noticed if he hadn’t been so happy and jovial just a few short moments beforehand.

  “Is everything alright?” I asked in a hushed and subtle tone.

  “Oh, yes,” I heard a faint smile in his voice, “I was just thinking; wondering how long it’s been since you came to us.”

  “It feels like forever,” I sighed wonderingly.

  Neither of us seemed to know what more to say and though I wanted very much to know what was on his mind he left my curiosity unsatisfied. I distracted myself by savoring the scents and sounds of the garden while we moved through it. Then we both spoke at once.

  “It seems like I’ve always been here…”

  “It seems like you’ve always been here…”

  We stifled our respective laughs. I couldn’t see him clearly in the dark but I could picture him perfectly. Somehow I knew that despite the little burst of humor we both felt something was troubling him. He shifted my coat to his opposite arm to free his hand and I cautiously reached out to take it. I gave it a little squeeze and some of the apprehension I was feeling lifted with the reassuring squeeze he gave me back.

  “So…”

  “So…” Herrik replied.

  I waited a moment hoping he would take the initiative and begin our conversation. He seemed reluctant to speak though and it gave me the impression that if I pressed him again and asked if he was upset he would likely tell me something I didn’t want to hear. I decided I would rather not take that risk and chose another topic.

  “So is today a surprise or is there any chance you will tell me where you’re taking me?”

  “Not a chance!” he said most definitively as we stepped from the garden and wound our way towards the elevator.

  I raised my eyes and studied him, “You’ve put me through an awful lot of trouble for whatever it is. Surely you can give me a hint!”

  “Surely I cannot.”

  “Suit yourself,” I shrugged and tried to appear indifferent to the rejection.

  I could see that he was smiling from the corner of my eye and feeling the warmth and happiness we typically shared on these occasions starting to return made me smile too.

  “Are you hungry?” Herrik asked as he helped me into the car.

  “Very! But I’m not sure I should eat or I’ll risk bursting out of this dress!”

  “Gianni would never let that happen. I’m sure there’s a bit of give in there somewhere,” he looked me up and down.

  I knew it wasn’t intended the way my mind interpreted it but I suddenly felt a pang of delight by the idea that Herrik was attracted to me. I sensed myself flushing with heat and color and immediately turned away. Herrik must have felt it too and awkwardly cleared his throat before starting the car.

  “Dinner first then,” Herrik said as we pulled from the garage.

  “Ah, yes, dinner…I always forget,” I sighed.

  “I can take you to breakfast if that is what you’d prefer but you’re not exactly dressed for it.”

  “No, I am not. Dinner’s fine; great actually,” I said as I thought about the possibilities.

  I felt a slight but unobtrusive tremble in my mind, “I know just the place.”

  Herrik took me to an elegant little bistro and after selecting a bottle of wine the sommelier suggested he ordered for the both of us. I always marveled that no one ever seemed to notice that even though he raised his glass and held his fork and knife neither food nor drink ever passed his lips. Herrik made all the appropriate motions and gestures even dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin now and again but it was all an effortless act.

  Occasionally he would lay his silverware down and he would reach across the table and run his fingers across the back of my hand so he could vicariously enjoy whatever it was that I was enjoying. I loved his touch; so cool and smooth, gentle but with a restrained and invigorating strength. Halfway through my meal we switched plates so he wouldn’t miss out on what he had ordered for himself.

  Despite his earlier hesitance to speak he carried our conversation through much of our meal. I ate and drank as much as I dared then excused myself to freshen up. When I came back I found that Herrik had taken the liberty of ordering dessert.

  “Oh, no! I couldn’t! I’ve already eaten far too much.”

  “Just a bite then. Please. Just a taste so I will know.”

  As I sat down Herrik reached across the table and gathered up a forkful of cheesecake. He held it to my lips, “Close your eyes,” he softly implored, “savor it…really taste it…” I let it sit on my tongue for several moments then slowly chewed and swallowed. I opened my eyes; Herrik’s expression clearly showed the rapture he was in. “Heaven,” he grinned then signaled the waiter for our check.

  Once we were outside Herrik offered me his arm and suggested we walk for a bit rather than head back to the car. He led me for a number of blocks before turning a corner and moving us towards a rather large, well-lit building set back from the street. At first glance I thought it was a church but then I noticed the throngs of people moving up the stairs towards the open doors. Then I realized that it was a theater; one we hadn’t yet been to.

  “What’s this?

  “An experience.”

  “Experience?” I asked my curiosity at its peak.

  I could see a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I was afraid that if I told you beforehand you might not agree to come.”

  I frowned, “Why would you think that? I’ve never been disappointed on any of the other occasions that you’ve taken me out.” I saw him flinch; I couldn’t imagine why he would feel so uncomfortable with the statement so I assured myself that I was wrong and hadn’t truly seen what I thought I had seen.

  We were near the top of the stairs and I glanced at the framed production poster as we moved towards the main doorways.

  “Madama Butterfly,” I read out loud, “is it a play?”

  “No,” Herrik chuckled, “but there is a great deal of acting; only not the way you would imagine. It’s an opera.”

  I had never been to an opera and wasn’t at all adverse to the idea, “And why would you think I wouldn’t want to go to an opera?”

  “Well,” Herrik gathered his thoughts, “it is an unusual art and…I…I wasn’t sure if you would be able to…to appreciate it.”

  “Of course I will. I always do; we always do.”

  We continued walking and Herrik showed our tickets to one of the ushers who guided us to our seats. After we were settled he took my hand, “I don’t want to share this one with you.”

  “What? Why? Why would you say that Herrik?” I was aghast at the idea of not being able to share the experience with him; with him not wanting to share the experience with me.

  “I’m worried, Emily. I feel like I may be…I may have…influenced you more than you know and I am afraid that you are not becoming who you were meant to be. I’m afraid that I have…I have wrought you into someone, something you are not.”

  “No,” I whispered, “that’s not true. You know it’s not.”

  “I want you to know who you are, Emily, I thought tonight might help us find that out.”

  “How?” I shook my head.

  “By how you react to the opera.” I couldn’t see the point he was trying to make; or maybe I just didn’t want to see it. “Emily,” Herrik reached for my hands, “I am not trying to upset you. I’m sorry if what I’ve said seems hurtful but I assure you it’s not.”

  “Then why does it feel that way?”

  “I’m sorry,” Herrik whispered and as his apology died away the lights dimmed.
I felt so betrayed and disappointed but I couldn’t voice any of my grievances because the production was about to begin. Herrik leaned in close; I could feel his breath on my ear, “Please, Emily…do this…this one small thing for me.”

  I felt a lump in my throat and my voice cracked, “Of course,” I relented and whispered back.

  I could feel his relief as he sat back. He kept his hold on one of my hands but that was the only sense I had of him beside me. There was no vibrancy, no brilliance to the things I saw and heard and felt. At least there wasn’t at first.

  I was confused when the players began to take the stage and act out their parts. I couldn’t understand what Madama Butterfly was singing as she moved about the hillside near her new home. I had learned very little Italian from Artur and the bits I did know didn’t relate at all to the story that was being told. As I watched and the more focused and determined I became I found it wasn’t necessary; it was perfectly obvious what was taking place.

  More than once I caught myself clasping Herrik’s hand tighter and tighter with the intensity of the scenes before me and had to mentally remind myself to loosen my grip. The opera was absolutely captivating! I had never experienced anything like it. It was so rich and colorful and so expressive and in such a way that my heart leapt or fell with every twist and turn of the story.

  When intermission came Herrik asked me if I there was anything I would like; if I needed to freshen up or stretch my legs.

  “No,” I shook my head, “I’m fine.”

  Even though I was still peevish I wanted to talk to him about the opera but before I could offer any of my impressions or insights as to what I had seen so far he hurriedly excused himself.

  “I’ll be right back,” he planted a quick kiss on my cheek and stepped away.

  “My but you are a beautiful couple,” a middle-aged woman who was sitting several seats to the right of me smiled and said. I wasn’t sure how to respond so I just thanked her and looked away. “Are you enjoying the show?” I glanced back and saw that her eyes were earnest and hopeful.

  “It’s lovely,” I said.

  “I am so glad you are able to appreciate it; not many young people do this days,” her voice was inflected with sadness.

  Again I was puzzled as to what to say. I wasn’t used to being in public and was far from comfortable speaking casually with someone I had never met before.

  “I’m sorry if I am being a nuisance but you look so nervous and fretful without your beau. I thought I would try to keep you company while he was gone.”

  “He’s not my beau,” I said more heatedly than I intended.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon. I just assumed…you were holding hands and the way he looked at you…Forgive me,” she mumbled and turned away.

  I hated myself just then, “No, wait. I’m sorry. We…we just had a little disagreement as we sat down and I am…” my voice was full of contrition.

  “It’s OK, dear, I understand. It’s none of my business, really,” she said looking relieved and satisfied by my attempt to apologize. I must have looked as crestfallen as I felt and her face softened sympathetically, “I’m sure it will all work out. Just be sincere and remember if you love one another that is what matters; not whether you are right or whether you are wrong.”

  It was a very astute thing for her to say and I felt ashamed for how angry I had been and how sharply I had spoken with Herrik. The lights flashed and a few moments later he came and took his seat beside me. He still seemed reluctant to meet my eye and to speak with me.

  “I’m sorry Herrik; I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” he took my hand as if to emphasize what he was saying and brushed a kiss across my knuckles, “I should have told you. We should have talked about it first. I should have gone about tonight differently.”

  There wasn’t time for either of us to say anything more but it was a relief to hear his regrets and it greatly improved my spirits. I briefly laid my cheek against his shoulder and he kissed the top of my head as the show resumed.

  The final act was the most impressionable. My emotions were tumultuous as I considered all the potential outcomes. I truly felt for Madama Butterfly and hoped for her eventual happiness but I knew in my heart that it would be absolutely impossible for her to find it. I could feel my lips begin to quiver and the tears pooling in my eyes as she prayed while awaiting the arrival of her lover.

  “Oh,” I whimpered, “no, no, NO!” my mind wailed. I instinctively knew what was going to happen and I was so engrossed by the scene that I started to rise from my seat. I wanted to cry out to her; beg her to stop and to comfort and console her but I still had enough presence of mind to realize where I was and that what my mind believed was happening wasn’t truly.

  When it was over I slumped back against my seat with my face buried in my hands. I was filled with grief and sadness and I quietly wept for Madama Butterfly. I felt Herrik’s hands softly caressing my back, “Emily,” he whispered, “Emily, it’s over. Ssh,” he soothed, “ssh.”

  I turned toward him and grabbing his lapels sobbed against his chest. I desperately wanted him to let me in so I could feel his strength and surety and not the devastation that was making my heart race and body tremble with such violent emotion.

  “Why?” I asked, “Why would you want me to feel this way?” I looked up so I could see his face and read his expression and when I did I saw that he was fighting his emotions, too.

  He was just as upset as I was though not quite so outwardly and perceptibly. Once I realized it I knew that if he opened himself up to me just then it would only intensify what we were both already feeling. Herrik wasn’t rejecting me but protecting me from the overload of sorrow.

  “Here darling,” the woman I had spoken with earlier handed me a packet of tissues.

  “Oh, thank you,” I smiled weakly and pried myself off of Herrik.

  “Was this your first time?” she asked as I carefully dabbed my eyes and dried my nose. I nodded then tried to hand the package back. “Then perhaps you should keep them. You might need them again before the night is over,” she smiled suggestively.

  I thought she might be right as I reflected on all that I had seen and heard, “Thank you,” I said again.

  She said goodbye then shrugged herself into her coat and disappeared.

  We lingered as long as we could and when I finally felt ready I glanced around the nearly empty theater one last time then let Herrik lead me away.

  Chapter 13

  We slowly walked away from the theater and I was indeed thankful for the tissues. The final act echoed in my mind and I choked up more than once while we made our way down the sidewalk back towards the car.

  Herrik had his hands thrust in his pockets and was looking straight ahead as we moved along. “Are you disappointed?” he asked and I couldn’t help thinking that he was reluctant to hear my thoughts.

  “I don’t know if disappointed is the right word. It was beautiful…and thought-provoking. I can’t imagine what she must have felt – living with all that uncertainty; her heart broken and with a child to raise. I wasn’t prepared for the way it ended and...” I sniffled, “maybe I’m just a little disillusioned.” Then I added with a touch of humor, “All the stories I’ve read have had such happy endings,” I started to smile but when I glanced up and saw Herrik’s reaction my heart sank. He looked so…so…remorseful.

  “It was a better representation of life than most stories are, Emily. Things seldom end as well in fact as they do in fiction.”

  There was something in his voice that began to make me wonder if there was another reason Herrik had brought me to the opera that night; if there was some meaning he wanted me to discover and take away from it all. Before I could really consider it I nearly blurted out, “What kind of man would…” and suddenly my thoughts were transported to a night I had nearly forgotten. I remembered Herrik telling me about his wife; that he didn’t love her. He confessed to me that he had
cheated on her and in doing so had become what he was and ruined not only his own life but hers along with the life of their son and countless others as well.

  I stopped and reached out to force him to face me. “Is that how you see yourself, Herrik? Is that who you think you are; how you think I see you? How could you even imagine such a thing? You are nothing like that man!”

  He met my eye for a brief moment then anxiously looked away, “I need to get you home, Emily.”

  I knew he wouldn’t give me the answer I was looking for and a pang a panic ran through me. I was determined to know and as he began to lead us towards the car again I angrily asked a series of questions.

  “This was our last night together wasn’t it? You’re not planning on taking me out any more? But why?” my words hung in the silence between us. I thought I knew the answers but needed to hear them from Herrik in order for them to hold any truth.

  “You’ve grown so much, Emily, since you came to us. Artur and Avery and Penny have molded you into such an exceptional woman. You are beautiful and smart and sophisticated; so polished and so…alive…in here,” Herrik laid his hand over my heart, “and here,” he kissed my forehead. Seeing how much the opera meant to you…watching your emotions so raw and so beautiful as they washed over you! I suspected…and now I know…I’m falling in love with you Emily…and I can’t let that happen! Our worlds are as different as the two people’s you saw tonight and there is no way it will end other than badly for us…for you especially.”

  Herrik started walking again and I hung back a few feet before I reluctantly began to follow.

  I was flabbergasted. I had always loved Herrik but I thought it was the kind of love that came from knowing one another so long; from being close and having so much in common. I never suspected that he loved me back or that it was anything more than a strong, mutual admiration. There was something nagging at me telling me that I was wrong; that I deliberately clung to the idea so I wouldn’t have to face the fact that he didn’t love me.

 

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