Euly wondered if she’d ever seen her sister look as lovely with her hair still tumbled from sleep and in her lazy flannel pajamas. It came back to her, a long ago memory of her tearing through presents under the Christmas tree. When Euly held her hand open to her, Enaya grabbed it and squeezed.
Coffee should be black as hell, strong as death, and sweet as love. [Turkish proverb]
CHAPTER FIFTY TWO
With Geoff still sleeping, Euly snuck outside onto the balcony. Leaning her elbows on a blue plastered balustrade, she cupped her kahweh baida in both hands warming them against the thick bone ceramic of the mug. She waved her nose above the brew taking in hints of cardamom and goat milk cream amid the strong coffee scent.
When she looked into the mug, cream spun and fused into a silky bronze homogenate after stirring in the honey. She left the spoon sitting lazy inside the cup. It seemed to be waiting for her, like a cocky boy at the prom.
After a brief but hard morning rain, a bed of creamy apricot blossoms had fallen and blanketed the lane that ran below their hotel room in the quaint village. Geoff’s plan to come to Lebanon in April had been thought out to its most finite detail.
He wanted everything to be perfect and it was. Euly knew how hard he'd been working to fix whatever had gone missing between them. There, in JBail she felt an unfolding of love, resurrected again, light and glowing as if from a renovated ancient papyrus, somewhat discolored but completely legible. It felt for her like the first moments when she and Geoff had met--real, pure, and true.
The cobbled road below their room drifted off somewhere close to the coastline and reminded Euly of a long bride’s path. The image took her back to their wedding six years earlier back home, under a 60-foot tall noble fir in their yard. A brisk wind scudded up and lifted with it a scent of ocean, the smell of salt and kelp hung there with her in the balcony before filtering away.
This place--so different in culture and atmosphere--felt natural, felt homey.
A lone church bell knelled off in the distance across the small village, distracting her. She lifted her head in the direction of its tolling. As the clapper swung and see-sawed clanging a message through the air, it made the moment crystallize, and stop in time--a snapshot in her mind.
The tinkling of an unseen chime startled Euly, drawing her attention across the other way. When she turned her head in the sound's direction, a young teenaged girl appeared wearing earphones and low-slung jeans peddling her bicycle from around a bend of the village's main road.
The relic of a bike she wheeled toward the hotel down the narrow strip of cobbled brick, set off how out of place the girl looked, alien with spears of bread poking out of the canvas sack in her basket.
It brought the twenty-first century into diametric view. This place still reminiscent of a war torn country from the 1970s, was expending great efforts in order to come of age in the twenty-first century.
The ivory-colored blossoms, confused by the intruder, swirled in circles behind her and settled to watch her as she rode away.
Up there on the balcony, a person could see so much more. From up high the theatre below, with its actors playing out a farce or comedy (whatever the mood du jour), captivated the audience in its acts and scenes wrought with magical anticipation.
The days, so near a new month, it was tough to call it April anymore. Euly’s breath reminded her of the garlicky hummus from dinner the night before. Geoff loved lots of garlic in his food. He would say time and again, “The only way to fix a dish with too much garlic is to add more, that’s what I always say.” That and, “Garlic is its own food group.”
Euly turned from the scene below and watched Geoff flipping through pages of Beirut's leading newspaper, The Daily Star. Steadying her spoon between a finger and the mug, she sipped from her cup and smiled. Walking back through the open set of sliding glass doors she placed her coffee on the table next to an oversized chair.
“What’s happening in Lebanon today?” He didn't understand one iota of Lebanese but had learned enough to order wine and food, find a bathroom, and to get a taxi but other than that his grasp of the language was far from fluent. After arriving, they both realized the classes they'd taken and the cryptic knowledge of Arabic they had learned, was time spent in vain. Most people spoke English there. The Daily Star had been, for years, published in English.
“LaHara Com Sar eet, honey." He smiled up at me. "I am so thrilled this paper is in English.”
Geoff folded the newspaper and lay it on the cocktail table. “Pretty too. Just look at all those colors.” He took a slug of coffee, slid his rump deep into the wide chair and kicked up his feet onto the ottoman.
“Ahh, this is the life.”
He closed his eyes and acted as if he was going to sleep again.
“Are you going back to sleep?”
“Uh-uh. Just closing my eyes.”
“You’re going back to sleep.”
“I’m going back to sleep.” A grin snuck across his face and trickled off through his shut eyes.
“When do you want me to wake you?” She understood their trip was meant for relaxation and fun.
“In an hour?” He asked.
“Okay. I’m going to take a walk and find a place to sit. I'm going to try and find someone to speak Arabic with.” She grabbed the newspaper off the table. "I'm taking this too."
“Yeah, yeah, my little Lebanese terrorist.”
“Geoff!" She made a tsk at him.
He popped one I open to look at her. "I love you."
"I’ll be back in about an hour, okay?”
“Yep.”
She started out the door and then called back before she closed it, “Love you too.”
He smiled without opening his eyes.
CHAPTER FIFTY THREE
A mourning dove perched next to its mate and cooed as they watched passers-by below them. They hid amongst the vivid jade leaves and within what was left of any blossoms in the pear tree. She took in a deep breath taking in the perfume of the blossoms and the freshly mown grass along a meandering path on her way to the resort’s swimming pool. An echo of birds answered each other and conversed in soulful and lonely calls pitching up and down in an echo across the resort property.
She heard a jogger approaching from behind and expected the person to pass on her right so she edged closer to the fringy grass along the path. But, the footsteps slowed into a fast walk.
“Hey lady, wait up.” Geoff panted and bent over to grab his knees.
She beamed out a smile and then turned to welcome him.
“I thought you were napping.”
“I wanted to be with you more. We can sleep later.” He stood up. His eyebrows fluttered at the innuendo and she giggled.
“Doesn’t it smell great out here?”
“Mm hmm. You lost weight.”
“Cutting back on the alcohol, all that sugar.” She put her hands on her hips and swiveled this way and that for him to take a better look.
“Nice ass, Eu.”
She giggled and smiled.
“Look at the blossoms, honey.”
“Pretty. Did you bring your camera?”
“No. Shoot.”
“You can get a photo later.”
Everything to Geoff was fine if it was put off till later. He didn’t like to make small problems seem too serious nor did he like to make big problems seem small. He was a perfect balance, she thought.
“So, do you think we’ll make it?” She kept her eyes focused in front.
“What do you mean by make it?”
“You know, for the long haul.”
“I hope so. We’ll have to always remember our wedding vows.”
“Yep. This is marriage, right?”
“Yep.”
“That’s what I used to tell myself the last time.”
“Try to concentrate on the positive.”
His attention shifted to a group of golfers playing on the resort’s course. He’d completely forgotten the subject.
>
“Is the lobby the closest place with a bathroom?”
“Yes.”
He put his hand up behind her head. She looked at him.
“Golf balls.” His explanation made her understand he was protecting her. He had his other hand up behind his head also. “I hope we don’t get hit.”
“That would hurt.”
While they walked she talked to him about some of the flora and fauna of the desert landscape. The Mediterranean lie just steps away from their resort with a surrounding desert that was not much different from the higher deserts of Arizona. As she noted the different varieties of cacti, trees and grasses, birds, spiders and reptiles, Geoff listened on. It appeared he enjoyed listening to her talk about fire ants and the roadrunner she’d seen yesterday dashing its way through a shrub.
“We used to go hunting with dad, for dove and quail. He liked mourning doves because they have a lot of breast meat.”
Geoff made a grunt. He remembered hearing about the story before but Euly went on anyway. “He’d bring home bloody sacks of birds.”
This time she elaborated. “Enaya and I would have to sit outside in the backyard to clean them.” She paused and wondered if she should embellish. “Have you ever cleaned birds?”
“No.”
“We’d have to rip the feathers off.”
“You clean fish by gutting them.”
“You clean birds by removing their feather but also by pulling their heads off.”
“Christ.”
“I know. We had to clean them. Mom wouldn’t do it and I don’t blame her.” They were quiet for a few steps and then she went on. “They’d make a chirping noise because their voice boxes were being split in two.”
“Man, Eu.”
“I know. It’s sad.”
As they approached, an invisible cloud radiated and hung by the door of the resort. It was a blend of eggs, bacon and fresh baked bread. Geoff made a straight line into the restroom. Euly poured two plastic cups of ice water the resort made available to its guests. Today they layered the water with ice, blueberries, and ice again. Yesterday it was oranges. The tall tubular urn of glass and brass was sweating in the warm day’s air. Nice, she thought. She wondered if Geoff would like something similar for their kitchen.
As Geoff exited the restroom, he made eye contact with her. His eyes sparkled blue and she felt her stomach flip. She handed him one of the cups of water. He drank it down without stopping for a breather.
“It’s good today.”
“Blueberry.”
“Mmm. Pretty too.”
“Should we get an urn like this for the house?”
“That’s a good idea.” He took another sip that finished off his drink. “Want breakfast?”
“Yeah. That would be nice.”
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
She slid the keycard into the door’s slot and they heard the familiar click to let them know it was unlocked. Geoff pulled his cell out of his pocket and looked at its display. He must’ve had it turned to vibrate. The morning was turning warm and the sun shone brightly through their back door, the one they’d left open. The air inside was cool and comfortable and Euly toed-off her shoes and slid them with one foot next to the door.
“Oh no.” While he fiddled with his cell phone and it chirped out a warning they had messages.
“Who called?”
“Fred and Mary.” He tapped the key pad and walked to the edge of the balcony where reception was at its fullest. He said to Euly over his shoulder. “It’ll be nice to get back home. I’d like a little instant replay of our action on the couch.” He turned with his back against the balcony railing and grabbed himself. Euly smiled and shook her head in mock disapproval. He was such a guy’s guy. His wry smile reminded her how he played havoc with her in bed.
“Hi guys. It’s us. You’re probably still asleep.
We got your message and we’re doing great.” He seemed so happy being with somebody. They were so different. He enjoyed being around people and she was content staying home alone. She never seemed to feel lonely like some people do but knew that a life with Geoff would always be a sort of push-me-pull-you grappling and that each of them needed to knuckle-under at times for the other. That’s what marriage was all about, anyway, wasn’t it – a giving in of sorts, a surrendering of part of yourself to someone else. The concept didn’t always sit easy with Euly but only lately she felt more at home with the idea. He too seemed to be giving her more elbow room.
After she moved her office over to her mother’s cottage, Euly began to miss Geoff’s constant, predictable interruptions. Since her mother died, she imagined life without him and it pained her. It was a physical gut-wrenching pain.
Before, she’d been locked in some internal battle that was towing her under – a battle she created quite on her own – one in which Geoff was an integral part but one he could not fight. He sat on the sidelines handcuffed, gagged and blindfolded while Euly fought on, a fight she could never win. She was a swordfighter in a mirror.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE
She balanced on the edge of the bed and slathered her tan legs with lotion. She put on her wedding ring and slipped on her nightgown. The brush stroke pattern of the silk looked like thousands of linden and jade leaves all crammed together. She finished and sat slumped but stared off.
She remembered her mother asking if she ever wished she could turn back time. Euly knew she had but couldn’t remember when. She knew it was futile. You can’t when the hands are missing. The hands are missing, she thought. Everything seemed to take giant steps away from a comfort she came to expect and love as a young girl.
The hands, brushed antique brass, fit onto a mechanism that kept the clock moving at its correct time. Her mom’s clock, the one with metallic Roman numerals attached to the wall were, at that time, the latest interior motif anyone could buy. She turned her eyes away from the digital clock there in the hotel room on the night table and spun back to a time when she was eight again. Her mother’s clock was the newest thing going – hard-wired into the wall – but only for that second when she snapped back to the present. Where she could begin to live her life again.
Euly was still dealing with Belle’s death which, in turn, made her consider her own mortality. Things change but, why. A deep longing made her want to lie back and sleep. Just sleep. Time was a wispy wind that blew over you and only when you were beginning to cool from it, it blew away again. You could try but you could never catch it nor could you reclaim it. Time slipped along merrily down a road and left people wearily watching it go. She thought how beautiful it must be for those people who get lost in the past, how understandable to get lost and stay lost. She fell back onto the bed and closed her eyes. She must go on now. It was her turn, hers and Geoff’s.
She called to him and when he walked in, she rose to her elbows.
“That’s pretty.” His face brightened.
“Thanks. I want to show you something.” She waggled her eyebrows in a tease.
He twiddled his back at her comment. “Sit here. I’ll get it.”
“You’ll get it?”
“It’s in my bag. Hold on.”
He heard the champagne bottle pop and called from the bedroom. “I know what it is.” Life seemed always to be a guessing game for Geoff. But when she returned he asked, “What’s that?”
“It’s what I want to show you.” She handed him the flutes and set down the bottle. “Here, you pour.” Euly sat next to him and unzipped the satchel. She pulled out a two-inch-thick stack of paper. A jumbo clip held it all together. “Here.” She held out the stack for him to take and he quickly finished filling the glasses and set the bottle down before grabbing them from her. He quickly read the first page then flipped to the second.
“‘Dedicated to Geoff Winger. My strength.’
Wow. Is this your…”
“Yep,” she couldn’t look at him, “my memoir.”
He put his hand on the top and set it on his la
p. When he looked at her she could see his eyes were tinged with redness – that struggle between crying and not.
“Don’t. It’s a good thing.” He wiped his eyes.
“I’m so proud of you.”
“Well, that makes two of us!” She laughed. “Really, though, sweetheart, I couldn’t have done it without you. I mean what I say in the dedication.”
“You should dedicate it to Belle.”
“Well, I thought about it. But, then, I also thought, if I dedicate it to Belle then I should dedicate it to dad and then Enaya and the list went on forever. When all was said and done, I just knew. It was you. There was no question.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Will you help me and read it?”
“Of course!”
“Hey. Can I read you the first paragraph?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Oh, I’m so excited.” When Euly smiled at Geoff she could see his excitement grow. She turned to the stack of papers on her lap.
Geoff sat tall with wide eyes waiting as she lifted a few sheets from the top of the stack while she searched for the proper page to start reading.
“Here it is,” Her voice seizing with emotion.
Geoff had tears in his eyes. He reached across her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. When he did she tipped her head onto his shoulder and held it there for a second.
“I’m okay, really.”
He kissed her on the top of her head. She could feel his lips on her scalp through her hair and, at the same time, she heard him take a deep breath in. It felt good to have him close.
“Mmm. You smell good.”
“Now, stop it.” She pulled away slightly and straightened up.
He followed her lead and clutched his hands safely into his lap. “Sorry.” He winked at her and nodded for her to continue.
“Ready?” Euly took a deep breath in and held it.
“And willing.” Geoff understood the depth of this moment.
She sighed out anticipation. “This is how the story begins.”
THE END
The Last Maharajan (Romantic Thriller/Women's Fiction) Page 15