Lovers. Shelley slipped the word under a breath that was equal parts wistfulness and fear. She looked at Max and wondered how it was possible to want something so badly and be utterly terrified by it at the same time. Why couldn’t he have warts?
“Where to next, Max?” Jonathan asked. “Back to the monastery?”
“We won’t be spending the night at the monastery,” Max said.
“Oh?” Jonathan said.
“I took the liberty of sending our luggage ahead to our new accommodations,” Max said.
Shelley looked up at him in surprise.
Max bent down and brought his lips a kiss shy of Shelley’s ear. “The monks wouldn’t approve of what I want to do with you tonight.”
Shelley strained her neck admiring the classical murals that adorned the ceiling of the Hotel Imperial’s two-story opulent lobby. It did not require much imagination to envision what the hotel had been like in its previous life as a royal palace.
“Are you sure this is our hotel, Max?” Brad asked.
“I certainly hope so,” Max said. “I just followed the directions the receptionist gave me when I called to make the reservations this morning at the Holiday Inn. Although I have to say that this place looks so much better in person than in the brochure.”
Vienna surprised Shelley again. It had been romantic as she walked through its streets, but now, as she looked over it from the window of the hotel’s one-thousand-seven hundred-square-foot Royal Suite, it was no less than ethereal. Illumined domes and elegant spires rose above the rooftops of the old city, challenging her to find the right words to describe their magic. She settled on a sigh.
“And we haven’t even seen what’s inside the mini bar yet, luv.” Max walked across the polished parquet floor to where Shelley was standing. He drew her hair from her shoulders and planted a trail of kisses from behind her ear down the length of her neck.
Pages of faded pink lists and yellowing scrapbooks fluttered in Shelley’s mind, their edges rustled by Max’s breath against her skin. Then they flapped in a hotter breeze. Shelley rushed to grab them. They slipped from her fingers, torn by the wind. She watched her defenses fly out the window and scatter over the ancient spires. She turned to face Max. An oversize bed dared her from behind him. She slipped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his.
Max pulled away and wrinkled his nose at the collar of his white cotton shirt. “I smell like soup.”
“I didn’t notice.” Shelley pulled him to her for another kiss.
“I really need a bath.” He took her hands from around his neck. He kissed her forehead and strode toward the bathroom.
Shelley threw herself facedown on the bed. She mumbled into a pillow, “Don’t mind me. My libido and I will be fine right here.” Just as well, she thought. She had strayed on this detour far longer than she had intended. This was the universe giving her the chance to jump off the train before it was too late.
“Did you say something, luv?” Max’s voice echoed in the marble bathroom.
“Nothing.” She pulled up the covers and muffled a groan.
“Shelley …”
“Yes?” She swore she would strangle him if he asked her to bring him his toiletry kit. She turned in the direction of the bathroom to see what Max needed. What she saw was what she wanted.
Max leaned, nearly naked, against the doorway, a towel draped loosely around his hips. “I was just wondering if you would care to join me.”
Shelley took a deep breath. She could always get off at the next station.
Buttons. They were wonderful things, Shelley thought. In the twenty-plus years that she had been pushing them in and out of holes, it was only now that she realized what they were actually for. They heightened anticipation in a way no zipper could hope to match.
She savored how Max’s fingers lingered over the tiny pearl buttons that ran down the back of her blue dress. She drew a sharp breath each time his fingertips brushed against her increasingly bare back. The last of her buttons came undone. Only two thin straps kept her clothed. Max kissed them off her shoulders. Her dress pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it.
He took her hand and led her to the tub. Shelley sank into its lavender-scented froth. She sat between Max’s legs and leaned against his chest. He circled his arms around her.
She shuddered as pinpoints of electricity shot through where her wet skin touched his. She would live in this tub, she decided, happily subsisting on tap water and Max’s nakedness.
“Can we stay here forever?” she asked.
“We’d shrivel into prunes and run up an obscene hotel bill, but yes, technically we could.” He drew little circles on her shoulders with his thumbs.
Shelley flipped over, pressing her breasts against Max’s chest. She reached down between his legs. “As long as you don’t shrivel up over here, I think we could manage.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Max drew her toward him until their faces touched. He teased her lips open.
Shelley moaned.
The phone in the bedroom rang.
“Mmmmm?” she asked.
“Mmmmm.” He ignored the phone.
Shelley pulled away and panted, “I think we should get that. It might be important.”
“More important than this? I don’t think so.” He kissed Shelley and held her to him.
The ringing stopped.
“See?” he said. His lips made their way to her breast.
Max’s cell phone rang from the bathroom’s marble counter.
“Max, I really think you should answer that,” Shelley said.
He sighed. He kissed her and stepped out of the tub. “Don’t go anywhere, luv.”
“I won’t.” Shelley studied the tension and release of the muscles in Max’s legs as he walked to the sink. It was like watching a lion pace. The image terrified and thrilled her.
He picked up his phone. “Hello? Maximus Coitus Interruptus speaking.”
Shelley’s laugh died on her lips when she saw the expression on Max’s face.
“I’ll be right there.” He put the phone down and grabbed a towel.
“What’s the matter? What’s going on?” she asked.
“That was Rose. Jonathan’s had a heart attack.”
A paramedic was hunched over Jonathan when Shelley and Max rushed into the room. Max gathered Rose to him. She clung to him, trembling like a tiny bird as they watched her husband’s chest rise. And fall.
The stark white lights of the emergency room washed out Rose’s face. Only her fingers had any color left. They were red from being wrung.
Brad took Rose’s hands and warmed them in his palms. “He’ll be fine, Rose.”
Rose nodded. She kept her eyes on her lap.
Coffee splashed on the floor across from her, spilling from Dex’s cup.
“Shit. Sorry.” Dex stopped pacing to mop up the spill with a napkin.
Shelley noticed that his hands were shaking. “You okay?”
Dex was as pale as the waiting area’s white walls. He sat down for the first time since they had gotten there. “Yes. I … just have this, um, thing about hospitals.”
“You really don’t have to stay,” Rose said. “I’m sure you’re all tired. Why don’t you go back to the hotel?”
“We’re not going anywhere.” Shelley put her arm around Rose. She felt brittle. Shelley loosened her grip and scanned the room for Max.
Max was sitting at the other end of the room. He looked back at Shelley without saying a word.
A doctor strode into the waiting area. He walked toward the tour group, keeping his eyes directly ahead of him.
Five steps, Shelley thought. Now four. Four steps left to hope. Rose stood up and split the difference. Shelley stopped herself from pulling her back.
“Mrs. Templeton?” the doctor asked.
“Yes?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could.”
Shelley waited on the couch outside of
the bedroom. She watched Rose clutch Jonathan’s sweater to her chest through the half-open door. The image reminded Shelley of all the times Rose had all but disappeared in her husband’s large arms—except that now it was Jonathan who was folded and small. Shelley wondered how long his sweater would smell like him. Rose kissed the sweater and placed it in his suitcase.
Shelley leaned on Simon. “I can’t believe that Jonathan’s gone.”
Simon sighed.
Dex slumped on the sofa. “Poor Rose.”
“I don’t even want to think about what she must be feeling right now,” Brad said.
“Me, either,” Shelley said. Watching Rose was difficult enough. She seemed to be searching for her husband among his things. In a large white T-shirt. In an unfinished book. In a toothbrush left on the bathroom counter. Rose ran her fingers over every fold, crease, and curve, as though Jonathan might be hiding behind one of them. Shelley shared that hope, allowing it to fade only when Rose stowed away the last of Jonathan’s black cotton socks. He was everywhere and nowhere.
Rose rolled the suitcase out of the bedroom. The bag had always looked too small for Jonathan, Shelley thought. But now, as Rose dragged it behind her, it was enormous. It contained more than Jonathan’s things. Shelley could not imagine how much Rose’s grief weighed.
“I’m ready, Max,” Rose said.
Max walked in from the balcony.
Shelley averted her eyes from Max. His reaction to Jonathan’s death bothered her. He appeared concerned, even sympathetic, but as hard as she searched his face, she could not find even a hint of sadness in it. He had yet to shed a tear.
Rose had not cried, either, but Shelley trusted that she was still in shock. The most Rose had managed to say since the hospital was a polite “Yes, please,” when Max offered to make arrangements to fly her and Jonathan’s body back to London that evening.
“We’re going with you to the airport,” Dex said.
“Thank you, dear,” Rose said, “but I think I’d like to be alone.”
“Of course.” Simon took her hand. “But at least allow us to accompany you downstairs.”
Rose smiled and squeezed his hand. She turned to Max. “Max, my sister is asking which airline I’ll be taking. She’ll be picking me up at the airport.”
“I’ve arranged for a private plane for you.”
The group raised a collective brow.
“I borrowed it from a friend,” Max said without looking at them. He took Rose’s luggage from her and made his way to the door.
“Thank you for your help, Max,” Rose said.
Max wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and twisted it. He stopped midway. He turned around. “Why aren’t you crying, Rose?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s taken you a lifetime to find Jonathan, and yet now that you’ve lost him … you have no tears.”
Rose backed away from Max and sat down on the couch. She kept her eyes on Jonathan’s suitcase.
Shelley rushed to her side. She glared at Max. “I’m sorry, Rose. I’m sure he didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”
“It’s all right, dear.” Rose patted her hand.
“No, Rose, it isn’t.” Shelley turned to Max. “I think you should apologize, Max.”
Rose shook her head. “No. I’m glad he asked the question. To be honest, I’ve been asking it myself.”
“It’s because you’re still in shock, Rose,” Shelley said.
“No, I’m not in shock, dear. I know that Jonathan’s gone. I do miss him. I can’t even say his name without dying a little. But, to be honest, I haven’t cried because …” She took a deep breath. “I’ve had no reason to.”
“But you just said …”
“I have every reason to be sad, but I don’t have any reason to mourn. People grieve when things end. Nothing has ended tonight. One of us has simply gone ahead as we always knew it would have to be. But there is no place Jonathan can go …”
“Where you can’t follow,” Shelley said.
“Yes.” Rose smiled. “In time.”
Shelley hugged Rose as tightly as she could without breaking her. She glanced over Rose’s shoulder. Max was looking at her, his face straining with an emotion that Shelley had not seen before. It was strange, she thought, that when everyone else had found some comfort in Rose’s peace, Max appeared as though he was about to cry.
Shelley gave up trying to sleep. CNN was delivering a muted weather report: There was a storm over China. She sat up in bed and switched off the television. The evening’s events pressed closer in the darkness. She rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the image of Rose rummaging for scraps of her husband among his things. She could not. They were seared into her memory, blending into old scars left by a childhood spent watching a different woman go through exactly the same motions. She fumbled for the lamp.
The door of her room creaked open and Max walked in. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“I was up. How was Rose?”
“Calm.”
“I can’t begin to imagine what she must be going through,” Shelley lied.
“Good.” Max crawled in beside her and laid his head on her stomach. The lamplight deepened the shadows beneath his swollen eyes.
“Are you okay, Max? Have you been crying?”
“No, luv. I’m just … tired.”
She wiped away the tear that was running down his cheek. “Rest.”
Max turned away from her, his voice less than a whisper. “I wish I could.”
The disco ball looked less sparkly that morning with two less passengers reflected in its mirrored tiles. The tour group drove away from Austria in silence, sipping the bottles of water they were having for breakfast. No one had been particularly hungry when they rose that morning.
Brad wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. Simon offered him a tissue.
“Thanks.” Brad dabbed at the corner of his eye and blew his nose. He leaned on Simon’s shoulder.
Dex looked out the window. “So much for short love stories and happy endings.” He sighed, fogging up the glass. “I wonder how Rose is doing.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Simon said. “This trip’s not going to be the same without her and Jonathan.”
Max slowed the Volkswagen and parked at the side of the road.
“Why are we stopping?” Shelley asked.
“I feel I need to say something before we drown ourselves in mineral water and general misery,” Max said.
Dex frowned. “Excuse me?”
“I know we’ve woken up to a less than cheery morning,” Max said, “but I do have some good news for you.”
“Good news?” Shelley asked.
“Yes. The good news is that we woke up,” Max said. “Today is a new day, and I, for one, have decided to live it. I strongly urge you to do the same.”
“It’s not that easy, Max,” Simon said. “Are you suggesting that we simply forget about what happened last night?”
“Actually, I am suggesting the complete opposite. I am asking that we honor it.”
“How?” Brad asked.
“Jonathan had one wish, and that wish was to spend the rest of his life with Rose,” Max said. “Would it be fair to say that he got his wish?”
“Well … uh … yes, I suppose so,” Dex said.
“We should celebrate that,” Max said. “Not many people can say that they spent the rest of their days with the love of their life.”
“But they’d just gotten married …” Shelley said.
“And they were happy in that short time that they were,” Max said. “If last night proved anything, it’s that life is a strong drink served up in an extremely short—and fragile—shot glass. Jonathan didn’t waste a single drop. Neither should we.”
Brad took a deep breath. “Guys, I think Max is right. I say we try our best to enjoy the rest of this trip.”
Dex nodded. “Jonathan and Rose would want it that way.”
Simon raised his wat
er bottle. “To Jonathan and Rose …”
“And the life they lived so well.” Shelley took a long sip and felt the water wash away the tears in her throat.
Max drained his bottle and turned the key in the ignition. He flicked on the stereo. The upbeat chorus of “Stayin’ Alive” filled the van. The disco ball spun, showering it with stars.
Chapter Thirteen
Ghosts and getaways
A FLIGHT TO THE PHILIPPINES
Now
Ah, the Bee Gees to the rescue,” Paolo said.
“Yes, you might even say that they saved the trip,” Shelley said. “Jonathan and Rose had left the back row very empty, but Max somehow managed to keep our spirits up with dangerously large doses of the Bee Gees’ greatest hits.”
“Scary.” Paolo chuckled. “But I can relate. I grew up with a mixed tape of seventies music blaring in our car.”
“That sounds like Max, all right,” she said.
“Well, he is—quite literally—one of a kind,” Paolo said.
The realization came without warning, much like discovering a bee trapped in your car. A black and yellow blur zipped past in her peripheral vision. Shelley gasped.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“One … one of a kind,” she said. The bee buzzed in her ear, waving its stinger at her. “I think that might not be the case exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
Shelley shook her head, trying in vain to evade it. Shoo. Shoo. “After Austria we headed to Slovenia. Max took us to a river.”
“So?”
“It was a river where a man had once lived.” The bee settled on her shoulder. Damn.
“What man?”
“A man …,” Shelley said, “like Max.”
The bee jabbed its stinger into her neck. It injected its toxin and pried itself off, leaving its bottom half embedded in her jugular. It fell dead on her lap.
Before Ever After Page 16