BREAKING CURSED BONDS

by Elisabeth Zguta

  Suddenly she heard something. She turned down the water to a light spray and listened. Another loud thump sounded from the bedroom area. She called out. “Are you okay? Jeremy, is everything all right?” No answer.

  She slid open the glass shower door. Her body tingled with goosebumps as the cold air washed across her skin. She couldn’t hear anything. She called out to him again. “Jeremy. Are you okay?” She shouted, loud enough to be heard in the other room. She worried something was off. Were we followed? Then she heard the door squeak open, slowly. She held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

  “Do you need something?” he said.

  She jumped when she heard his voice. Her heart skipped a beat. She flung a hand to her chest and, with the other, grabbed for a towel. Her foot slipped on the soapy shower floor and she landed on her ass with a thud.

  “Ouch! Dammit!” She lay naked under the running water’s mist.

  His eyes widened and she noticed he swiped a quick glance up and down her sprawled out body. She was mortified. Then his eyes met hers, his face red. She definitely had his attention, but not exactly how she had imagined.

  “Are you okay?” He rushed to help her up, handing her a towel.

  They were both in the shower, the water’s gentle mist covering them. He looked into her eyes as he bent to help her. She forgot about her awkward moment and could only think of his hazel eyes, warm and inviting.

  The heat between them flared. She felt his intense yearning and blushed, her cheeks hot from her own desire. Her body registered every touch, his hand on her arm, his fingers wrapped around her bicep, his thigh against hers. She swallowed her saliva.

  “Yes, I’m fine now. Just embarrassed.”

  He smiled, but his eyes stayed riveted to her own.

  “Let me help you up,” he said.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up. They stood there facing each other. The water trickled down her body as he gazed into her eyes, and the combination made her tremble. She basked in his want. Suddenly, the strength of the primal attraction they’d denied for too long, won.

  “Maybe you should take off your clothes too,” she said, with her best attempt at a sexy voice. “You’re already wet.”

  Jeremy disrobed in seconds, and threw his dirty clothes on the floor. He stood in front of her, displaying all his masculinity, but still appeared conflicted.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. Emilie was confused. His physical attraction was more than obvious, but something troubled him.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now,” he said.

  Emilie drew in a deep breath, and met his eyes. “I’m not thinking of my family or of curses, and not worried about my gift. I am thinking only of you. We have a connection, we both feel it, there’s no hiding it. Let’s make it real. I want to be with you now.”

  Jeremy was so close, but still not touching. Emilie grabbed a washcloth and added a squirt of shower soap, and started wiping the grime off his body, slowly rubbing him in circular motions, appreciating his chest muscles, as she touched his bronzed skin as gently as she could. He closed his eyes.

  He turned around, his back to her, turned up the water pressure, and then snatched a bottle of shampoo. He squeezed some out, and lathered his scalp, then bent his head back as he let the bubbled soap rinse away. She smelled coconut as the suds rolled down his body, and reached out to place her hand on his back. Her mouth watered when she touched him. His body felt lean but firm, and his skin supple and smooth.

  She moved her hands to his arm, and tugged to turn him around and face her. Making eye contact, she recognized his need. She leaned her body closer and felt him, hard against her stomach. With closed eyes, she gently kissed his warm lips.

  He returned the kiss then nibbled a trail down her neck and up to her ear. “I love you,” he whispered.

  She gave him a gentle kiss that turned into a frenzy of passion when their lips met, and within seconds, his warm mouth and tongue melted with hers. More shivers. Emilie couldn’t hold back as the pent-up longing surfaced. She kissed his lips more fervently, then his neck, his chest, and she traveled lower still. She heard him moan.

  He massaged her shoulders, reaching spots that turned her longing into burning lust. He stopped, pulled her up straight once more, and held her face in his hands, focused on her eyes. Tilting her head, he kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and her neck.

  Emilie melted, any inhibition long gone. His lips kissed her hardened nipples and she soared. Squeezing his arms, she craved for the moment to last forever, but he broke away yet again.

  He turned off the water, picked her up, and carried her to the bedroom, gently dropping her on the bed. Emilie pulled more of the covers back, and opened her arms wide.

  “Come here, then,” she said.

  Jeremy lay down beside her, rolled her onto her side to face him. He touched her back again, running his finger up and down her spine gently. She moaned, closing her eyes, feeling as if floating in air.

  “You drive me crazy doing that,” she said.

  He smiled as he put his finger to her lips, shushing her from talking. Then he kissed her again, passionately. Together they enjoyed exploring each other’s bodies. They spent hours learning about each other intimately.

  After they quenched their attraction, glowing from each other’s magic, they lay in bed together, smiling. Jeremy played with a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger. Her arm was around his waist as they faced each other, completely satisfied.

  “Thank you for the best day of my life,” he said. He kissed her head.

  “I think the pleasure was mine, as well,” she replied. “I never worked so hard in my life as I did today, digging up the midden. I’ve never loved so deeply as tonight, either.” Emilie leaned her face up to meet his and kissed his lips warmly, just one soft goodnight kiss, then she laid her head back down on his chest, and fell asleep to the beat of his heart.

  Emilie woke the next morning in the happiest mood she could remember. Peeking across the pillow, she saw Jeremy watching her, seemingly wide awake.

  “Have a good show?” she asked.

  “You snore,” he quipped.

  She gave him a gentle punch on the arm, and then a kiss before she rose and scurried to the bathroom. After a good night’s rest and a morning shower, Emilie and Jeremy drank their morning coffee in a cafe downstairs off the lobby of the hotel, while researching on the web with a laptop. Now that half the mission was completed, they wanted to keep the momentum going. They racked their brains looking for the possible location of Captain Dominique de Gourgues’s burial site.

  “I booked a flight, we’re all set to leave in three hours,” Jeremy said.

  “So, we land in France, and then what?” she said.

  “Then we find the captain’s burial site and finish the deed. There’s no turning back now. We can use Church records to find the location. I called Father Eddie while you were in the shower and he gave some direction over the phone, and he promised to assist us with the Church’s red tape once we’re in France.”

  Emilie nodded, but some things still bothered her. “Do you ever wonder about Father Eddie? You’ve been getting chummy with the man, what do you think of him? I mean, I love him, he’s been there for my family over the years, but . . .”

  “Well whatever his story is, he’s all we’ve got, and I am very thankful. Besides, just think about it for a minute. If the Church believes in things like possession and exorcisms, then why not believe in curses and the burning of bones?”

  It was a rhetorical question, but Emilie still wondered about it a little. However, there was no time to waste. A few minutes later, they were in the rental driving back to the airport on their way to France. They went through security check and made it to the gate just in time to board. Together they traveled in quiet companionship.

  Emilie was reading a book, but her mind wandered. She considered her feeling
s for Jeremy and their developing relationship. When she was with him, she understood what it meant to be cherished. Jeremy respected her and inspired her to be a better person. She admired his positive attitude toward life. After years of loneliness, finally she felt accepted by someone’s love.

  She glanced at his profile while he rested. A thrill coursed through her body, remembering his warm touch playing on her skin. She slipped her hand into her purse and found the red spiral shell he had given her, and rubbed her finger against its smooth surface.

  The seatbelt light rang. Her attention returned to the present. They were near their destination: France, so lovely, despite the gravity of their task.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  When Emilie and Jeremy’s flight landed, they took the train to Tours, a beautiful thriving city in central France that sits along the Loire River. They were staying at the old Hotel de l’Univers, a resting place in the heart of the city since 1846, three minutes away from the train station and just a ten-minute walk from their first destination.

  “Perfect!” Emilie said when they arrived.

  They stood in front of the old hotel, a building designed with Parisian flare. Large windows with iron gates protected anyone from falling to the street below. The clock above the hotel’s name, fixed in stone, rang the noon hour.

  “Come on, let’s check in,” Jeremy said. He led the way into the old-world lobby. It was filled with lavish gold leather sofas and soft palms that stood tall in the corners of the room, but they still looked small in the vast space. Midriff-height, wrought-iron railings held back other guests, who strolled the floors above.

  Jeremy and Emilie signed the register at the front desk and were led to their room. Jeremy offered American dollars for the tip, and received a grimace in return. “Sorry, we didn’t pick up any exchanged currency,” he said.

  “We can get some when we go out,” Emilie said.

  She explored the suite, amazed at its modern design. Compared with the public area of the hotel, the bedroom furniture here was sleek, with colored fabric patterns and contemporary design.

  “Check out this shower, it’s beautiful.” She tugged Jeremy’s hand and led him into the bathroom.

  “It is,” Jeremy agreed. “Why don’t we just stay here the remainder of today and start our search tomorrow?”

  He studied her with a frown, and Emilie glanced down at herself.

  “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

  He grinned. “Of course not, you’re beautiful, but I don’t want you to get worn out. Maybe a nap first. Besides, we have this wonderful shower to test out.” He raised his eyebrows at her suggestively, and she laughed. “But seriously, you need to keep your strength up. I have a lot for you to do later on.” He gave her a kiss on her forehead.

  She smiled at his teasing. “I don’t think we should waste time, lover boy. We need to get this done quick, before anything happens to Rachael.”

  “Em, she’s only dating your brother. We have time.”

  “Maybe so, but I’ll be more relaxed once this is finished.”

  “I like relaxed,” Jeremy said.

  Every time he smiled at her with that look, it made her shiver with anticipation. Emilie disregarded those thoughts, for the moment. “I think we need to be adults.”

  They settled into the room and took a brief nap, but then both agreed it was too nice to stay indoors. By two in the afternoon, they were strolling away from their hotel to the center of the Old City, the area known as le Vieux Tours. It’s an energetic neighborhood still boasting the original half-timbered buildings, famous since the medieval days. The cathedral rested on Rue Lavoisier.

  “Come on Jeremy, we’re almost there. Look, it’s Saint Gatien’s Cathedral.”

  Pointing to the cathedral, Emilie took off for the front doors. She gawked up at the huge towers embracing the entrance. The architecture amazed her. She had read up on this place.

  “You know, the process of constructing this cathedral took four centuries of labor,” she said. “See the different architectural influences, the Romanesque and Gothic design.”

  “Wow, this sanctuary is overwhelming.”

  She nodded. “I wonder how such an imposing presence could have been built by mere men. This craftsmanship is impeccable.” She pointed up at the doorways and windows. “They look as if they’re held together by lace made of stone.”

  Jeremy opened the door and together they walked down the aisle, admiring the wood-carved organ that was displayed above the main floor, with colorful windows as its backdrop. When they reached the pews closer to the altar, they sat. Emilie yanked Jeremy’s sleeve and pointed up at the artistry of the stained glass above, mesmerized by the colors. They sat in silence, in awe of the rainbows that reached to the lofty heights of the arches, leaving shadows of color like a kaleidoscope on the objects below. Encouraged by this majestic cathedral, she reflected on the fact that they now shared this experience. Filled with joy, a new resolve occupied her soul.

  They knelt and prayed, and then Emilie made the sign of the cross and sat down once more on the wooden bench. She placed her hand on top of Jeremy’s, and he instinctively wrapped his around hers. She sensed that her touch gave him a new experience, too. They sat together for a moment, appreciating the surroundings.

  There was a leaflet left on the seat. Emilie picked it up and read the weekly bulletin, and found the names of the priests for the congregation. Tugging to get his attention, she accidentally ripped Jeremy’s sleeve at the seam. He turned with a smile.

  “I love you too, Em,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming. “But tearing my clothes off in church? What would your father say?”

  “Sorry,” she said, blushing. “Can you call Father Eddie and see if he knows any of these priests? The two of you seem to have hit it off, talking with each other on the phone almost every day lately.”

  She handed him the bulletin and he made a quick call to Eddie. Luck once again struck: Father Eddie was friendly with Father Lefevre. They waited on the line while he contacted his old acquaintance, and after hearing about their dilemma, the priest agreed to meet with them.

  They waited in the church for another ten minutes before a sole priest walked down the aisle. He reached the bench where Emilie and Jeremy sat, and held out his hand. Father Lefevre was an elderly, gentle-mannered man, slightly built and thin, conveying a peacefulness that immediately put Emilie at ease. She shook his hand, and then Jeremy did the same.

  “Nice to meet you,” the priest said in broken English. He leaned his head toward the exit, and invited them to his office. They walked down a short hallway and turned right, into a small room lined with bookshelves stuffed with paperwork and folders. Only a small window of tempered glass let in light, with no discernable view. The room smelled of old paper with a tinge of mildew.

  “S’il vous plaît se asseoir, please, sit,” he said. He bowed his body, with his arm out toward the center of the room. They sat down in the indicated wooden chairs, situated around a large round wooden table.

  Emilie said something to Father Lefevre in French and he smiled and nodded. He went to an old wooden desk and started keying at a relatively new computer sitting at the edge of all his work.

  “I told him we need help locating my ancestors’ resting place, and that I think it may be here, in Tours,” she said to Jeremy.

  The priest turned his head and spoke again. Emilie listened carefully, nodding, as she translated in her mind his words, then she turned to Jeremy. “He’s checking any Church records that have been logged into the computer system,” she said. “The Church scanned thousands of old documents, including burial information. He’s looking as far back as possible.”

  Father Lefevre rattled off more, his French tongue rolling through a long story. Emilie listened and conveyed the message to Jeremy.

  “He says the only prominent grave in the Church from the 1500s documented in this area was for the children of Charles VII and Anne of Brittany. Nothing record
ed from this cathedral references the de Gourgues family. But, he suggested another church nearby, the Basilica of Saint Martin. Apparently, it was a popular church in the 1500s because Saint Martin was the patron saint of the city. Pilgrimages were very common back then.”

  Jeremy shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable in the chair. “Okay, we’ll look there next,” he said.

  Father Lefevre nodded, his aged face revealing a few wrinkles that deepened with his concern. He rattled off more conversation, and Emilie leaned forward to take in every word.

  “What’s he saying?” Jeremy asked.

  “He says that unfortunately, the Basilica of Saint Martin had been attacked by the Huguenots back in 1562 during the wars of religion. The saint’s tomb was destroyed, but the church was still used until 1793. That’s when it was completely demolished during the Revolution. Since then it’s been rebuilt, and there’s only a slight possibility Captain de Gourgues was buried near the old remains of the original basilica.”

  Jeremy ran his fingers through his hair. “Sounds like it’s a shot in the dark.”

  “Wait, Father Lefevre is searching the records from Saint Martins,” Emilie said.

  The priest shook his head and responded.

  Emilie listened and translated. “He says the records for the other church at that time period were all destroyed. Let me ask him if there’s any other source, maybe the Vatican’s main records.”

  Jeremy nodded his agreement.

  Emilie spoke in French, asking the priest to check any other sources available.

  The priest turned back to his desk and typed away, performing one last search, directly into the Vatican records this time. Emilie stood beside him, reading aloud, as he scrolled through the records.

  “Again, nothing comes up in the Tours area for the de Gourgues family,” she said, “but the name did surface in the Vatican records in the Bordeaux area. That’s where the family lived for centuries. They were well-known in society there for generations.”

  Emilie, mumbled to herself as she squinted at the screen, thinking through the translation. “The records don’t reveal the specific name of the captain, Dominique, but still there’s hope. These documents are so old. They appear to be incomplete. I remember reading about a commission working on deciphering the land ownership of the family, going back centuries. Maybe they can help.”