by Anita Higman
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Yes. It is. And now comes my question. Well, I guess it isn’t a question. It’s an announcement.” Camille looked at me then, really looked at me, her jaw set with determination. “I’ve decided … when you go back to America … I’m going with you.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Camille grinned. “Guess I shocked you a good one.”
I laughed. “You did. I’m happy, of course. I just didn’t expect you to say it, because you were so opposed to the idea when I brought it up before.”
“Well, everything changed for me today.” She dropped her shoulders as if in sad surrender. “My whole life.”
“I can’t think of anything that would make me happier than to take you back with me. Julie will be thrilled too.”
Camille rested back in her chair. “It wouldn’t be forever.”
“You may stay with me for as long as you like. I have a house and two extra bedrooms. It’s kind of old, but it’s a comfy place. It’s home.”
Camille placed her palm on the window glass next to us just as she had when I first saw her on the tram. She said softly, “From what I gather … Mrs. Gray isn’t all that big on seeing me.”
“But Mother did tell me about you. She opened that door, and it makes me think she would be willing to open other doors. Deep down, I’m sure she wants to see you again.”
“But why should I be the one to shove open the door, Lily?” she asked. “Mrs. Gray is the one who should be clamoring to see me, begging my forgiveness.”
“I admit, it’s all pretty screwed up. We’re a very dysfunctional family. But you coming home will jar things back. Make things right. I just know it. Kind of like, well, you know, when you shake a pecan tree and all the nuts come down.”
“Yeah, well that doesn’t help me to feel warm and fuzzy.” She grimaced.
“Sorry, bad simile.”
“Are you really that much more of an optimist than I am?”
“No.”
We laughed.
I drank down the rest of my cappuccino, wiped off my foamy mustache, and then gave myself a moment to rejoice. Camille was right—spring was on its way. I ordered another cappuccino to celebrate. I had more than I’d ever hoped for—a twin sister who wanted to be my sister and who wanted to come home, even if only for a visit.
“When would we be going back?” Camille asked.
“In about two and a half weeks.”
“That should give me time to close down some of my life here. I admit that even though I feel a measure of despair right now, I also feel something else. Something I didn’t expect to feel. Relief that I don’t have to look into those green eyes of Jerald’s anymore and feel … edgy.”
“Relief is good.” I reached out to her with my right palm.
At the same exact moment, Camille stretched out her left hand, and we met palm to palm.
We stared at each other and then put our hands down and laughed.
“Creepy, isn’t it … the way we think alike … move alike?” she asked.
“It is … wonderfully strange.”
“I’d so glad you came to Australia, Lily.”
“Me too,” I said. “I suppose we need to make a plan now.”
“Well, while we make our plans I can show you Parliament. That is, if we hurry. Then we can eat.”
“I would love that. I haven’t seen it yet.”
“It’s not far from here.”
After a short taxi ride, we both stood inside Queen’s Hall in Parliament House. I looked around, taking in the stately hall. It took my breath away. The ivory room had a grand air and seemed to embrace the sky with its high ceilings and Greek columns. The great hall, steeped in history, celebrated Australia’s ties to England with a magnificent statue of Queen Victoria in all her regalia. Just beautiful.
I linked arms with my sister. I would not let anything spoil our lovely day, and I refused to ponder the one assaulting word that could topple our tower of joy.
Mother.
Over the next few days, Camille was so exhausted from working long hours at the grocery store that she insisted I go out with Marcus on a date. It was the special evening he’d been patiently waiting for—and one that I’d spent plenty of time daydreaming about.
Back in my hotel room, I slipped on the little black dress that I’d brought from home and had yet to wear. I adjusted the cap sleeves off my shoulders and curled my hair on top of my head with a silvery clip—a style I’d only worn for fancy affairs, which, come to think of it, rarely arrived. Feeling on a roll with my primping, I put on a rhinestone necklace and earrings and stared at myself in a long mirror. Hmm. Not too shabby for an empty-nester mother who’s thirty-nine. But had I gilded the lily a bit too much? I tilted my chin. No, I think not. I laughed.
I made my way to the elevator, pushed the button, and just as the doors opened in the lobby, Marcus found me. His hand struck his heart as a wide grin consumed his face.
Okay. I get it. Marcus thinks I clean up well. He didn’t look too bad himself in his gray pinstripe suit and tie.
Marcus walked up to me, took me by the hand ever so lightly, and twirled me as if we were in the middle of a dance. “You are devastating, Love.”
“But it’s just a dress that I picked out for—”
Marcus touched his finger to my lips to quiet my protests. “Please don’t start running yourself down. You are devastating, Lily Winter. Maybe I should make you write it on the chalkboard a hundred times.”
I chuckled. “You look devastating too.” Was that Armani? I had no idea, but it looked expensive and tailored.
“Thanks.” He offered his arm. “Ready for an evening to text home about?”
“I am.”
Marcus escorted me along the promenade by the Yarra River and into a restaurant called The Garden Pool.
The ambiance was all about the simple but chic beauty of a Japanese garden. Hundreds of candles lit the room, and violin music floated in around us. After I’d carried on about the décor like a bumpkin, the maître d’ seated us in a prime spot by a waterfall that flowed demurely into an ornamental pool. “Beautiful.”
He nodded his approval as he gazed at me.
How romantic. I hadn’t known such attention in my life, but I welcomed it with open arms. Deep down where my guilt always festered, I knew it wasn’t fair to compare Marcus to my deceased husband, and yet in my humanness, I did it anyway. Except for the affair, Richard hadn’t been unkind to me, but he’d never made me feel special. And then, after his infidelity, I never recovered from the feeling that I wasn’t much of anything to look at or had any qualities that my husband or any man would find interesting or attractive. I lived inside a mindset of just making due, and it had always been enough—until now.
Mist came to my eyes even before the waitress arrived with the menus. I’d never make it through the evening at this rate without having to blow my nose in the ladies’ room a dozen times.
Marcus slid his hand across the table and took my hand in his.
His hand felt warm, sturdy, just right. And the connection, his touch, made me prickly. Not in a barbed cactus way, but in an over-the-moon, can-this-really-be-happening-to-me way. Calm down, Lily.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“These are happy tears, I assure you. To be honest, Marcus, I’m not all that used to the attention. It’s making me wonderfully uncomfortable.”
“Good.” He leaned back and straightened his tie. “I hope before the evening is over I’ve found some ways to make you even more wonderfully uncomfortable.”
There was that look again—guess it was the one Camille had told me about. The one that I had noticed but couldn’t quite acknowledge.
With those words, and Marcus’s delightful gaze, I flushed like I’d swallowed a whole chili pepper. While Marcus talked to the waiter, I daubed at my forehead with my napkin.
After a special welcome from the manager, li
nen napkins were whisked in the air and placed ever so gingerly on our laps. We were then handed two large brown leather menus to peruse. Oh, how I loved being pampered.
Glancing over the options I tried to keep from blinking at the prices. Very few items were listed, and they were all sooo expensive. It was a good thing Marcus had money, since the meal would cost him a fortune. When we’d made our order of steaks with pumpkin and greens, we settled into the quiet splendor of the place.
“This restaurant is wonderful, but it’s also empty. I wonder why. Is it the prices?”
“No.” Marcus leaned over to me. “It’s empty because we have the place to ourselves.”
“Really?” I got a little worried. “Just how rich are you?”
Marcus laughed. “Only a little. Don’t be overly impressed. I’m friends with the manager, and he feels he owes me this kindness. Although I’m not sure why.”
I looked around and whispered, “What did you do for him, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Something I would have done anyway.” Marcus paused, but when I looked as though I really wanted to know the answer he said, “I was here eating, and one of his customers choked. I did the Heimlich maneuver on him, and it worked.”
“You saved a man’s life here?”
“Well, anyone would have done the same thing. I just happen to have been in the right place at the right time to be helpful.”
“You’re being way too modest.”
Marcus chuckled. “I doubt that.”
“But thank you for this wonderful evening. No one has ever done anything so grand for me. Not even close. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Lily Winter. There’s no one else I wanted to do it for.” He tapped his fist against his heart. “You are a flower most rare.”
I grinned. “Well, actually there are two of us flowers.”
“Ahh, yes, there are two flowers, but no one is exactly like Lily Winter. Not even Camille.”
“So, am I a flower with thorns?”
“No, you’re the one I want to wear on my lapel … near my heart.”
I smiled at that. And here I’d been worried that Marcus had fallen a little bit in love with Camille and her music. Marcus did indeed have a way with words, though, being a writer by trade. It was his business to know how to say pretty things. Or, that is, it used to be his business before the accident. I would like to ask him if saving someone’s life eased the guilt of losing his sister, but that had to be the worst possible kind of chitchat for a romantic evening. So I moved on to another topic. “I wasn’t sure whether to tell you or not, since it’s a private thing, but Camille said it was okay to share it.”
“Sounds pretty heavy.”
“Some of it is, and some of it isn’t. Camille has agreed to come back home with me. Not permanently, but for a long visit.”
“Now that’s amazing news.” Marcus leaned toward me. “How in the world did you get her to agree to that?”
“She and I have been slowly bonding, but the main reason she changed her mind was because of her boyfriend. He left her. They’d been in a relationship for a year, and she’d hoped he would propose. But he didn’t. There can be no reconciliation, nor would she want it. I know I certainly wouldn’t want her to go back to him even if he begged. He was a louse, and that’s being very kind in my assessment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that your sister has suffered even more abuse.”
I took a sip of my Pellegrino. “Why is that? Why is it that women who are abused as children sometimes find themselves in a similar situation, even when they have a choice?”
“I guess it’s hard to leave a road you’re familiar with, even when it’s rough. You’ll be a real encouragement to Camille. I’m sure you’ll help her to see that she’s worthy of someone better.”
“I hope so.”
“I’m curious,” Marcus said. “From everything you’ve told me about your mother, how do you think she’ll handle Camille coming back to see her after all these years?”
“I have no idea. It could blow up in our faces, and Mother could order us out of the house. Or Mother might feel some remorse for giving Camille away all those years ago. But that could only happen with a miracle. Most likely it’ll be somewhere in the middle, as most of life is. Mother will be glad to see her, but she won’t say the right words. Not quite. I’m not sure she knows how. They seem to be locked up inside her, unable to get out. Then we’ll all three settle into a general dysfunctional malaise. But I have to try. It’s the right thing to do. And my daughter will love Camille. It’ll be great for Julie to have an aunt.” I gave my hands a waving gesture. “But I promise I won’t spend the whole evening talking about my sister. You can tell I’m a little wired.”
“I’m distressed with whatever you’re distressed with… happy about whatever you’re happy about.”
Sweet man. “So, what did you do with your day?”
Marcus reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small box. “I did a little volunteer work over at St. Paul’s.”
“Oh?” I smiled but barely heard him because of the distraction of the black box sitting in front of me. Surely not. It was waaay too soon for a proposal. Couldn’t be. Was it? My heartbeat did some funky ka-bangs. “For me?”
Marcus leaned forward and whispered, “Well, I’m certainly not going to give it to the waitress.”
“I’m glad for that. I don’t think the woman’s been off of her training wheels that long.” I grinned and picked up the box, but my fingers trembled so much that I fumbled with it, nearly making it flip out of my hand. Calm yourself, Lily. Without any more internal drumrolls I cracked open the box. Nestled in the velvet folds sat three silver charms. “Ohhh. How lovely.”
My stomach untied its knots. I could breathe again. There was no proposal—just the sweetest gift imaginable. “For my bracelet. I love them.” I lifted out three small charms. “A piano, a guitar, and a flute. You’re not only thoughtful to have given me a gift … but a good listener to know our passions.”
“It’s to celebrate the three of you and your music, but also I’m hoping it’ll encourage you to go back to the piano.”
“I think it’s just the thing to do it.” I held the gift to my heart. “I’ll put them on my bracelet as soon as I get back to my hotel. Thank you, Marcus. But what are we celebrating?”
He lifted his glass. “To a woman named Lily Winter who traveled all the way to Australia and who happened to sit down on my favorite bench. I’m so glad she did.”
“I will never forget that spot.”
“Nor I. I thought you were going to throttle me when I first sat down.”
I chuckled. “I’m glad I didn’t.”
Our quiet dinner for two went on to become the magnum opus of romantic dates. When the last mouthwatering bite had been consumed, we left and took a stroll by the river, not far from the botanic gardens. The evening was warmer than usual, and the wind had calmed, so for once I didn’t feel I needed a coat. But then maybe I was getting used to the climate.
Marcus offered his arm, and I circled mine through his. When we came to a place that wasn’t cluttered with tourists, we stopped and settled on a bench. He patted the spot by him, and without hesitation, I scooted up right next to him. He placed his arm behind me as if we’d being doing that routine for a lifetime. Goodness me. What a difference a few days could make. I could no longer even imagine why I disliked Marcus at first. I had been gazing through the filmy glass of my weary and potholed perceptions. But then I’d changed too. I guess the lily had finally started to bloom.
“I’m beginning to count the days left … you know, before you leave. And it’s too soon,” Marcus said in a gravelly voice so full of emotion that it made me look up at him. “Way too soon.” He loosened his tie. “Are you sure you really need that job of yours?”
“It would be wonderful to stay a few more weeks. But as you know, I’m on a leave of absence. I’m not independently wealthy, so e
ventually I do need to go back to my job, as much as I dislike it.”
“What do you want to do? Something relating to music?” he asked.
“No, but maybe something creative. I’m not sure. Guess I still haven’t grown up yet.”
“That’s okay, since not growing up is a prerequisite for being creative.”
“I suppose that’s true. But it’s hard to quit, since everything in oil-related services pays so well. Even a secretary’s job. I stay there for Julie’s sake, actually. You know, to make sure I have enough money for us.”
Marcus caught my gaze. “But Julie’s gone now.”
“True, but I want to help her with college. Who knows … maybe it is time to make a few changes.”
“Changes.” Marcus leaned down. “Yes, you might be—” His words ran out as he hovered by my lips. His breath, warm and tickly on my cheek.
I lifted my chin and met him halfway to enjoy some confection that was far sweeter than the apple dumpling we’d had for dessert. I’d been waiting all evening for that kiss—maybe my whole life. My spirit took flight, and it reminded me of when I was a girl, and Nanny Kate had let me fly my first kite. The sun on my face, the tug and rush of the kite taking off and soaring in the breeze high above me. It was a moment not to be forgotten—just like this one. When we reeled in our delight, I said, “Wasn’t that the nicest thing?”
“I thought so too … very nice.”
“But what were you about to say earlier about changes?”
“I don’t know. When I’m around you I lose my train of thought.” Marcus twirled a curl of my hair around his finger. “I just know these next two weeks will go by much too quickly. Even now the minutes are ticking at a maddening rate, making me crazy, making me wish I could reach out and stop the hands of the clock. Or at least slow it down. Make every moment last.”