The Language of Love

by Saunders, Jean

  The kettle sang out, and Annette switched it off, her hands unsteady. He wanted her, and if she was honest with herself, she had never been more wildly attracted to a man since Tony died. That very fact frightened her a little. And there was something else she was slowly beginning to face.

  All these years she had unconsciously been searching for someone just like Tony. Yes, she admitted that she was lonely, and that if the right man came along, she wished for nothing more than to give herself wholeheartedly to him. What she had completely overlooked was that in the eight years of her widowhood she had grown from a young bride into a mature woman with a mature woman’s needs. She was no longer the eager twenty-year-old Tony had known. She had moved on – it gave her a painful feeling of regret to know it, but she knew it was true. If Tony came back to her now, he wouldn’t recognize her, and perhaps what she was searching for didn’t really exist.

  Annette poured boiling water over the instant coffee in the two mugs, and the strong aroma of it filled her nostrils. She had been clinging to the past without being aware of it. Pieter had tried to tell her, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. Perhaps she had had to find it out for herself.

  Carrying the two mugs of coffee down to the workroom, she handed one to Margaret and took a deep breath.

  “You know what it would entail if I were to agree to this flower-festival idea?’’ she began. She caught Margaret’s look of exasperation, and rushed on. “All right, I know you can cope! But you might as well know all of it. I mentioned the florist I met, Gerrit Campen. What I didn’t say was that he offered me a job!”

  “You’re kidding!” Margaret began to laugh. “He’s got a nerve, asking the famous Annette to work for a tin-pot little florist!”

  Annette laughed at her assistant’s loyalty. “It’s not quite like that, Margaret. His business is easily as big as ours, and he’s been very generous in offering me the use of his workroom for Elena’s wedding flowers. I’m not sure if he was serious, but with so much work to plan and create, I’m wondering whether I might not take him up on his offer and make use of his facilities. Could you manage without me, say, for two months, starting fairly soon?”

  Margaret knew her too well. “And in those two months you can decide whether or not the gorgeous Dutchman is the man you want,” she stated, and Annette nodded slowly, her smile fading.

  “I have to be sure,” she said quietly. “Right now I’m confused. I’m not sure of him or myself. I hardly know him, and yet I feel as if I’ve always known him. But how can I? He lives a different life, and the only way to be sure is to become part of that life. My work gives me the ideal opportunity to see him for what he is, whatever that might be.”

  She knew she was explaining to herself as much as Margaret, but it didn’t matter. There was so much at stake, and Margaret would know she couldn’t risk sharing her life with the wrong man. Not after Tony. And if Pieter turned out to be just playing with her affections – if he and Helga were closer than she believed – well, then, at least she’d find out in time, before she fell in love with him too completely.

  She suddenly felt Margaret’s arm around her shoulder.

  “I hope you’ll find he’s the right one, love. You go to Amsterdam and get to know him. ‘Annette’ will still survive until you get back, I promise you.”

  “It’s not settled yet,” Annette said quickly, but of course it was. At least, once she was sure Gerrit Campen was serious in his offer of working with him. With her reputation she could hardly be called a proper employee. She would merely take on the jobs that came in that were suited to her talents, and Gerrit would be delighted to announce in his window that “Annette of London” was temporarily based at his establishment. She knew that was the way it would be if he were serious.

  “I’ll give it serious thought over the weekend,” she told Margaret, “and then I’ll give Elena a call on Sunday night to sound her out about Gerrit Campen. I don’t want to embarrass the man by getting in touch with him until I discuss it with Elena. She and Pieter know him quite well. And I’ve no intention of going to Amsterdam unless it’s for a proper reason, so it will all depend on Gerrit’s attitude,” she added fiercely.

  “Of course,” Margaret said blandly.

  On Sunday evening Annette put through a call to the Van Ness house in Amsterdam. She pictured Elena moving through the elegant rooms and picking up the onyx telephone in the hall. She felt odd realizing that she knew the house so well now, as she counted the time it would take for Elena to pick up the receiver.

  “Van Ness,” Pieter’s voice said, and Annette stared at the phone. She’d never imagined he would answer. She’d thought he’d be at his hotel. She resisted the crazy, inane urge to say they’d have to stop meeting like this.

  “Hello, Pieter.” Her voice was husky, but before she could say anything else, she heard the sudden warmth in his, as if he were suddenly lit up inside at hearing her voice.

  “Annette, how delightful! I’ve been thinking about you all day, and wondering how you fill an English Sunday.”

  This one had been particularly dull and empty.

  “Oh, I read, and walk by the river, and sometimes I visit friends...” This wasn’t why she’d called, she reminded herself. “Pieter, is Elena there, please?”

  “You mean you haven’t called to speak to me?” he said in mock disappointment. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, she and Nels are at his home in The Hague this weekend. Won’t I do?”

  She should have thought of that. She hesitated, but now that she had made up her mind, it seemed pointless to hedge about. Pieter would know if Gerrit had merely been flattering her or not. She took her courage in both hands and outlined her proposed stay in Amsterdam, hardly able to get all the words out because of his frequent interruptions of surprised pleasure.

  “But that’s wonderful, my darling girl. Of course Gerrit meant it. If he didn’t, I’ll see to it that he soon changes his mind.’’

  “No, Pieter, I don’t want that. Are you sure his offer was genuine?” she said in agitation. She didn’t want Pieter persuading anybody. She didn’t want to be under any kind of obligation to him.

  “Of course it was. He’d give his eyeteeth to have your expertise at his disposal. How soon can you come?”

  “Hang on,” Annette said weakly. “I must speak to Gerrit myself first. And please don’t get there first. Please, Pieter. I’m capable of conducting my own business affairs, and finding somewhere to stay while I’m there.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” This time his tone was angry. “You’ll either stay at my hotel or right here. There’ll be no nonsense about looking for flats. You won’t find one anyway.”

  “All right, and thank you. But not at the hotel. If you’re sure I won’t be a nuisance, I’d love to stay with Elena.”

  She heard the smile back in his voice, and knew he guessed why she’d prefer to stay at his family home, and deliberately called it Elena’s home.

  “You could never be a nuisance, Annette.” His voice caressed her senses, and she knew he thought he had won in persuading her to come to Amsterdam. This time it was she who said crisply that she would be in touch again as soon as she had spoken to Gerrit Campen, and she who put the phone down firmly.

  But afterward she sat down heavily on an armchair, wondering if she was really doing the right thing. If Pieter really intended pursuing her, she was playing right into his hands. If he wanted her as badly as he said he did, she wondered if she had the strength to refuse him. The recollection of her dream was enough to make her aware of all the longings his touch could awaken in her. All the aching needs and desires that had been pushed away from her mind for so long. But since meeting Pieter Van Ness it seemed as if all her hard-won sophistication had disappeared. She was still as vulnerable as a young girl when she was near him. Hopefully, spending two months in his city would either dispel the hypnotic hold he seemed to have on her, or...But she wouldn’t let herself think of the alternative.

  Chapter
Seven

  Looking back later, it seemed to Annette as if events overtook her, with no real participation on her part. She hoped fervently that Pieter would not speak with Gerrit Campen before she phoned him on Monday evening. She purposely waited until then, to have a more serious talk with Margaret during the day. To make sure her assistant wasn’t being carried away on some sentimental tide, she wanted to first go through the order book with Margaret to assure herself that there was nothing that her assistant couldn’t cope with.

  “You’re making me nervous,” Margaret said eventually. “You know I’m fully qualified, and working with you all these years hasn’t exactly done me any harm! Are you doubting my ability or something?”

  “Of course not,” Annette said quickly. “You know I’m not.”

  “Good. And the other girls are perfectly capable of keeping the business afloat with me in charge. Don’t worry, love, ‘Annette’ will still be thriving when you come home again.”

  Margaret wanted her to go. Pieter and Elena wanted her to go. And she herself... Yes, Annette thought. She herself wanted it.

  She spoke to Gerrit Campen on the telephone that evening.

  “My dear Annette, I’m delighted you will even consider working here.” He made no attempt to hide his pleasure. “Your name will be prominently displayed in every window, and I’m sure we will work harmoniously together. Please tell me when you wish to come.”

  Annette smiled at the rather stilted, old-fashioned style of flattery she found so charming in the Dutch.

  “I thought next weekend,” she said evenly, “and I could begin work Monday morning.”

  “Perfect, my dear! Just arrive whenever you like. I shall be happy to welcome you.”

  She was still smiling when she hung up. He was a dear, a sort of elderly uncle in looks and manner, and she knew it would be no hardship to work with him. Next she phoned Elena, thankful to hear her friend’s voice this time and to discover that Pieter had confided in his sister, at least.

  “It’s marvelous, Annette.” Elena was bubbling. “And don’t you dare look for a flat while you’re here. You must stay with us – unless you would prefer the hotel?”

  “Oh, no,” Annette said hastily. “It’s far too impersonal, and I’d love to stay at your home, Elena.”

  She had the feeling there would be nothing impersonal at all about any stay at the Van Ness Hotel! She would be all too aware of the man who owned it. Having already looked up the flight times, she told Elena she would be arriving midmorning on Saturday.

  “Nels will be here for the weekend, so we’ll be at Schiphol to meet you. Oh, I am looking forward to it, Annette. It will be like having the sister I never had staying with me and helping me over my wedding nerves. I’m glad Pieter introduced you to Gerrit, because this is the best thing that could have happened!”

  Everything was wonderful to Elena right now, Annette thought, remembering the way it had been just before she and Tony were married. Everything was brighter seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, and even waking up on a wet Monday morning didn’t matter, because there was that little glow in the heart, knowing you loved and were loved in return.

  She looked around the flat when all the arrangements were made, realizing not for the first time that despite its comfortable furnishings and the glowing flower arrangements that brought the rooms to life, it was still empty. There was a loneliness about it that Pieter had sensed the very first time he’d set foot in it. He’d been very perceptive in saying a room in which a person spent a good deal of time told a great deal about that person.

  Annette gave an involuntary shiver. Even then, when she’d hardly known him, she’d been conscious of a bond between them, an instinctive knowledge that if they continued to meet, there would be more than friendship between them. It had unnerved her, because Pieter had been nothing like the image of the man who would one day ease her gently from the memories of Tony’s love into a new and continuing relationship.

  Pieter Van Ness was too forceful, yet with none of the arrogance of a younger man. He was too determined, too disturbing, too understanding of her, in a way that Annette found both bewildering and exciting. She wanted love, yet now that love was hers for the taking, she felt afraid of it. Or was she just afraid to admit that she could fall in love as deeply for a second time? The image of Tony and herself in the silver frame blurred a little in front of her.

  They both looked so young – she in her bridal white, with the misty veil around her face, and Tony, an eager young boy, so proudly entwining his fingers in hers. Annette felt a lump in her throat for all the years that might have been. Since meeting Pieter, it made the eight years she’d been alone seem even more wasted. All the success in the world couldn’t compensate for the love she’d expected to last a lifetime.

  She shook herself, knowing there was a lot to do before Saturday, and this wasn’t helping. She’d decided on a course of action, and it wasn’t in her nature to keep changing her mind. She set about resolutely sorting out clothes and personal things to take with her. Two months was a long time to be away, and Margaret had eagerly accepted the offer to use the flat while Annette was away. It was far better than leaving it empty, and since Margaret lived at home with her parents, she was free to move in above the shop.

  The taxi arrived early on Saturday morning to take her to the airport, and Annette gave a last glance around the flat. Margaret had stopped by on the previous evening to drop off some of her belongings. Already it seemed less personal to Annette. She closed the door behind her with a deep breath, with the odd little feeling that she was closing the door on another chapter of her life.

  She was being ridiculous, since she’d be coming back here in two months’ time and taking over “Annette” once more, becoming briefly involved in the lives of society brides or important city functions all anxious for her services. And just as soon forgotten, she thought with a wry honesty. The work that had always been so fascinating and important suddenly seemed almost futile. What was wrong with her? she asked herself angrily. This was a fine way to be leaving England to begin work with Gerrit Campen, feeling apathetic about her work as a floral artiste! Especially with the flower festival coming up, and then Elena’s wedding!

  She braced herself as the plane began its descent over Amsterdam, and the sight of the red-brick houses in their crescent of canals lifted her out of her momentary depression. This time, it was almost like coming home, Annette thought with a warm feeling inside. She was familiar with the city and its charm, its people, and the lovely Van Ness house. Here she would be among friends.

  Once free of the formalities of the airport, she collected her suitcases on a luggage trolley and looked about for Elena and Nels. Suddenly the blood rushed to her face before she had any control over it as she turned and looked straight into Pieter’s gray eyes. Her heart gave a huge jolt, but before she could speak she was imprisoned in his arms, pressed close against the tweed jacket he wore, with its attractive heathery smell. Then his mouth was finding hers, enclosing the two of them in a private little world ever familiar at airports. Annette struggled out of his arms, her heart thudding rapidly. He still held her loosely in his embrace.

  “I was expecting Elena to meet me,” she stammered, knowing she sounded like an idiot. Pieter gave a low laugh, his rugged face still alarmingly close to hers.

  “And instead you’ve got me,” he said in the husky voice she remembered so well. “I hope you’re not going to tell me you’re disappointed, Annette?”

  The slick reply she intended to make fled out of her mind. His gray eyes had little brown flecks in them, she noticed for the first time, and his hair, with its dusting of gray, was less sleekly brushed than when he was more formally dressed. Ruffled by the wind, it gave him a more boyish look. Coupled with his undeniable sensuality, it left her momentarily tongue-tied. She shook her head.

  “Of course not. Why should I be?” It would be impolite to say otherwise, she told herself, but it wasn’t m
ere manners that made her know she spoke the truth. She was glad to see him, and glad that he’d taken time out on his busiest day to meet her. A little glow ran over her as she walked beside him as he pushed the airport trolley through the open glass doors.

  “I anticipated a lot of luggage” – his amused eyes took in the bulging suitcases and hand luggage – “so I have the bigger car.”

  He nodded to where a black limousine stood by the curbside. Annette’s heart jolted a second time, but this time without any pleasure. Helga sat in the front passenger seat.

  “I was able to kill two birds with one stone,” Pieter went on lightly. “Helga has been to visit friends in Germany for a few days and got back on a flight half an hour before yours, so we filled in the time drinking coffee.”

  Annette hardly heard him. The disappointment she felt was so acute it stunned her. She’d thought Pieter had come to Schiphol Airport especially to meet her, but it had merely been convenient because Helga was coming in on a previous plane, and it would save Elena and Nels an extra journey. It was stupid to feel so let down, but she couldn’t deny the sudden burst of jealousy she felt as she wondered if Pieter would have bothered meeting her at all if Helga’s plane hadn’t been due.

  Pieter loaded her luggage into the trunk of the car, already packed with a ridiculous amount of Helga’s luggage. Then Annette had no option but to climb into the backseat beside their hand luggage.

  “It’s good to see you again, Helga.” She hoped she sounded friendly, but the smile on the singer’s face was so false it was clear she was as annoyed at this little threesome as Annette.

  “I didn’t think we’d meet again so soon,” Helga said sweetly. “But it’s nice for Elena to have her little English friend to occupy her mind.”