Follow the white pebbles

by Lillian Summers

  Color drained off Justin’s face. That must be God’s punishment for him lying in church about the ‘loving and cherishing her’ thing. He winced.

  The priest croaked a choked gasp. “Do you mean, you don’t want to marry this man?” he dropped the tone of his voice to a whisper.

  “No, it’s okay, I’ll marry him.” She shrugged.

  “Then you must say ‘I do’.” The priest enlightened her.

  “I do,” she said, shrugging again. Justin’s words from their first encounter were still ringing in her ears, dispassionate and crude. She had to make him pay.

  Then the whole circus began again with the blessing of the wedding rings. “A circle is the symbol of wholeness, perfection, and unity. Like circles, the rings have no beginning and no end. They are the symbol of the relationship that Elisabeth and Justin have come here to confirm,” the priest said. “Mr. Winters, please repeat after me: ‘I Justin Winters give you Elisabeth Wilburn this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you’.”

  Please, God, forgive me for sinning twice in a row, Justin prayed silently before repeating the words like a machine. He took Lizzie’s hand in his, only to stop to gape at her then back down. A huge silver ring bearing a skull with ruby eyeballs was covering half her finger.

  “What’s this?” He mouthed the silent words. No answer came back from her tight lips.

  He started pulling the fat ring down her knuckles, tugging at it as he felt resistance.

  “Don’t you dare touch it,” she snarled.

  He ruthlessly stuck the wedding ring on her finger next to the ruby-eyed skull, making her wince in pain.

  “As you wish, Your Highness,” he countered from between clenched teeth.

  She almost broke his knuckles when she shoved his ring up his finger, a revengeful smile curling her lips.

  They were still glaring at each other when the priest was pressing them to light their Unity Candle, ‘a symbol of their relationship and love,’ he said. “Elisabeth and Justin will light the center candle to symbolize the union of their lives. As this one light burns undivided, so shall their love be one,” the priest reassured everybody. Nobody believed him.

  “You may now seal your union with a kiss.”

  “A kiss?” Lizzie and Justin chorused.

  Appalled gasps from the first two rows of benches hinted that they had been a little too loud.

  “A kiss.” Robert landed a reassuring pat on Justin’s back.

  “A kiss,” Justin repeated with a resigned voice. He took a cautious step toward his bride and leaned forward to touch his lips to hers, only to pull back in a jiffy as if he’d been stung by a wasp.

  Finally, the priest proceeded to the Dismissal, shooing people out of the church with a final “Thanks be to God.”

  Lizzie and Justin walked out hard-faced, closing their eyes when a sacksful of rice rained on their heads. The pellets kept following them all the way to the white limousine that was covered with long white ribbons and a banner that hung from the back bumper like a pathetic dead tail. It said on it ‘Just married.’

  Then the five and a half hour drive to Oswego began. All because the new Mrs. Winters was afraid of flying and they couldn’t use one of their parents’ private jets to get home a little faster. But that was how their lives were going to be from now on, weren’t they? Forever lagging, trapped in between agonizingly boring walls. Just like their very first ride home.

  The five hours went by slowly, driving Justin insane. He tried to read some company reports while Lizzie sprawled her legs on the seat across from him, uncovering a pair of sturdy sport shoes from underneath her wedding dress. At least they were as white as white can be. A brand new trend of bridal shoes. She stuffed her earphones in her ears, pretending to listen to music. She didn’t know how to use the IPod though. Then a pressing need to pee made her wriggle restlessly on her seat for a good hour, but she was way too proud to request a stopover for a potty break. Just the thought of pulling up the skirts of her dress behind a bush with Justin aware of what she’d be doing made the hairs at the back of her neck stand up stiff in profound horror.

  Finally, Justin raised his gaze from his folder. “We’re home,” he muttered. And that was all she heard from him until they sat at the dinner table.

  “Help yourself,” he said then shut up again.

  She stared at him open-mouthed. By the look of it, this man was going to say no more than ten words to her until they’d both reach old age. She wasn’t Chatty Cathy either, but still, that seemed to be a little extreme.

  “Are you always so damn dumb?” she inquired.

  His gaze snapped up at her from his plate. “What?” he asked, a caustic note slashing through his voice. Her tone had said to him that ‘dumb’ was meant to imply a little more than just him refraining from much speech.

  “You only said six words since we left the church,” she clarified. “If you want me to be a damn poster on the wall, just say it now. Lay down the rules from the beginnin’, so we’re both clear. I don’t wanna hear any crap. Just the real stuff.” Her chin tipped toward him in an authoritative invite. “Say it.”

  He slowly placed down his fork thoughtful, not once peeling his gaze from her. “Look, Lizzie, neither of us wanted this marriage. I don’t want to be a thorn in the sole of your foot, so I’ll keep my nose stuck in my business. I think that’s fair enough,” he said.

  Lizzie blinked fast a few times, staring down at her plate. She couldn’t understand why she could not withstand his gaze. “That’s bullshit, Winters. You mean, you don’t want me to be a damn thorn in the sole of your foot,” she drawled. “And you want me to keep my nose stuck in my business. That’s what you think and it’s fair enough, only you don’t wanna say it that way. Don’t try to play smart with me. I may be from Queens, but I’m not that stupid.”

  No, she probably wasn’t stupid, Justin thought with irritation. Regardless, she was going to do his bidding.

  “All right, Lizzie, let’s have it your way, if this is what you want,” he admitted nonchalantly. “To me, this is a marriage of convenience. I will stick to the rules because I have to. So, let’s keep out of each other’s way, shall we?” And with that he stood up and left the table.

  Pain stabbed at Lizzie’s heart with a million merciless knives. She clenched her hand around her throat to stop the nausea from coming. She had spent her life putting up barriers, yet it had taken this man to come along to flatten her in a heartbeat. From that first moment she had seen him she had fallen in love with him. It wasn’t magical, or wonderful, or like walking on a cloud. It just hurt like hell.

  She slowly walked toward the apartment she’d been shown on their way in. Their apartment.

  The bedroom was huge, with an immense king-sized bed placed in the middle on the farther wall. Two doors opened on each of the lateral walls. Her en-suite and walk-in-robe on the left, his on the right side. She trudged down the carpet with weary feet and went to get changed for the night.

  When she emerged from the bathroom she pushed out a shriek. He was standing almost naked next to the bed, wearing only a pair of tight fit boxer briefs that showed every line of him. Her gaze skimmed his body in fascination for a few short moments, imprinting in her memory the godly contours of his bunching muscles. Then she ducked her head.

  “I’m gonna go sleep on the couch,” she muttered, turning around to leave.

  “I’m afraid you can’t do that,” he replied icily. “We are supposed to behave like a real couple. If the servants find you in the living room, there will be gossip. And if they know it, then the whole State of New York will know it.”

  She hesitated.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not seeking to exercise my… husbandly rights,” he reassured her. “I’m not wearing pajamas because I’m used to sleeping in the nude. It’s inconvenient enough that I have to wear these boxers.” His voice had now risen with irritation.

  Lizzie bit her upper lip and peeled the robe of
f her shoulders, cautiously approaching the bed.

  He stared in utter disbelief at the oversized black flannelette pajamas featuring menacing Darth Vaders and long-fanged Chewbaccas.

  She swiftly slipped under the covers so close to the edge of the bed, he feared that she would fall to the floor when she moved. Then she removed her glasses and placed them on the bedside table and murmured an almost inaudible “good night.”

  “Good night,” Justin replied staring at her back, half expecting that she’d start snoring. But she just kept panting like a scared rabbit until her breathing began to slow then became calm and soft. She was asleep.

  He shook his head in disbelief and sighed. As from today he was married. Correction. As from today he was married to Elisabeth Wilburn. Colossal catastrophe.

  The week could only be described as a living hell. Justin was flying in and out of Oswego in his parents’ private jet. He was spending never-ending days at the business headquarters in New York, as he started to learn how to manage a business empire. The merging of the two mega fortunes was still another two years away, but its design had already started, making it even harder for him. By the time the flight home was due, Justin’s head felt very much like a shrapnel dispersing grenade. Just about to explode and to splash everywhere a complete hodgepodge of figures and charts, weekly reports and projections. No wonder he was in a gloomy mood on his return to the mansion. He just took a quick shower and went to bed, half the time falling asleep before saying ‘good night’ to his wife.

  It was the most miserable week of Lizzie’s life too. She missed Momma and Johnny a lot. She missed her bodyguards Ben and Roy. And in a weird twist of fate, she missed Madeline as well. But most of all, she desperately missed her husband. Even his rudeness would be more bearable than his continuous absence, and the way he ignored her when he returned, as if she were just a poster on the wall. But wasn’t that precisely what she’d suggested?

  On Friday night it all changed though. He spoke.

  “We are holding a weekend party,” he said as soon as he slipped under the covers.

  “A weekend party?” She looked at him disconcerted.

  He was already fast asleep.

  She woke up to a complete chaos that she later understood was in fact perfectly organized mess. A bunch of servants were removing and replacing furniture in the reception room while others were busying themselves somewhere behind the mansion. Caterers were walking in and out with trolleys-full of dishes and cases filled with food. She wandered around open-mouthed until she got bored and returned to her apartment.

  Justin Winters was definitely a man of contrasts. He lived a life of decadence, never failing to be at the heart of parties, but had chosen for his residence a secluded place a few miles south of the small town of Oswego, right in the middle of nowhere. His property had been built on a patch of untouched wilderness, with the mansion as the central masterpiece. Behind it were the swimming pool and a dozen guest cottages. Toward the back were the servants’ quarters. The entire left side dipped into the shore of Lake Ontario. The front yard was a thousand acre dedication to Mother Nature. No man-shaped shrubs, no designed landscapes, no manicured gardens; just trees, bushes and wild flowers. The wide driveway that wound its way from the gate to the mansion was the only testimony of human intrusion in the midst of this virginal beauty.

  However, when twenty limos started streaming in at midday, piling up on the side of the residence, the air became infested with engine fumes, muting the sense of purity and the freshness of the surroundings.

  Then the presentations began. Jenny Ropes. Angela Davis. Julia Bates. Kate Pearce. Monica Barton. Paris Rhodes. And the list went on and on. There were a few men too, a mere third when counted against the flock of women, but Lizzie was on overload. She couldn’t register any more names.

  “My name is Jimmy,” she said about twenty times.

  There were about twenty pairs of raised eyebrows, and twice as many whispers behind her back. She didn’t give a damn.

  Then the crowd moved at the back of the mansion where three crusty pigs kept turning on roasters by the side of the pool, and long tables were straining under a cornucopia of food.

  Lizzie dragged a chaise long under the shade of a sprouting Blue Ash tree and sat on it, stretching her legs and crossing them at the ankles. She had for once ditched her heavy boots and was now sporting black walking shoes, their tongues poking over the flared bottoms of her oversized jeans. The word ‘scallywag’ was graffiti-printed on her pirate T-shirt over which she wore a knitted vest.

  Justin’s gaze brushed over her one last time before he decided it was time to put her out of his mind as if she didn’t exist. He had tortured himself all morning, mentally picturing the appalled gasps, the amused whispers and the inevitable gawking. Then again, everybody saw him as a martyr, and he very much intended to behave like one. Five minutes into the party, and a whole litter of compassionate kittens started purring around him, flashing deep cleavages and long shiny legs. They all competed to comfort him with a hors d’oeuvre nibble, a sip of expensive champagne, or just with a silly joke whispered next to his ear.

  “Is this novel interesting?” a voice sounded at Lizzie’s side, making her peel her gaze abruptly from the feminine commotion.

  “Yeah,” she answered sourly, bringing the book she was holding quite close to her face. “I’m busy reading it.”

  The sound of the legs of a chair scratching the concrete on the left of the chaise long gave a clear hint that the voice and its owner were there to stay. Lizzie swore silently.

  “Oh, I can see you are,” the voice recommenced. “You’re holding it upside down, actually.”

  Lizzie’s gaze snapped up to guillotine the young woman who was looking at her with a smile and unperturbed eyes.

  “I’m Krissie, Justin’s sister,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “I was your bridesmaid at your wedding, remember?”

  “Oh, that… Yeah, I remember,” Lizzie lied, ignoring the hand that Krissie was extending.

  In truth, she couldn’t recall one damn thing from the wedding, except for the moment when Justin had kissed her. It had been brief and indifferent, but to her it had been searing fire. She stared at Krissie with curious eyes, taking in her delicate features, her rich chocolate brown eyes and short chestnut hair that was cropped pixie style. She was a beauty in her own right.

  Krissie smiled. “He’s… very busy.” She tipped her chin toward her brother.

  Lizzie bit her upper lip, forgetting to answer.

  “But they’re all passing pricks to you, don’t you worry,” Krissie murmured, her gaze still glued to the noisy cluster.

  “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Lizzie erupted. “I don’t give a damn about what he’s doin’. He can screw them all for all I care.”

  “Won’t happen.” Krissie patted her hand. “All our folks are on his heels. We’re watching him, day in, day out.” She laughed. “If he puts a foot wrong, he’s doomed.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t give a damn.” Lizzie insisted stubbornly.

  “Oh, but you do.” Krissie cocked an amused eyebrow. “I saw you eyeing him every ten seconds. And the girls. If you could throw them in the lake and let them drown, I bet you would.” She winked.

  She sure would, Lizzie thought bitterly.

  “Take the blondie, for instance,” Krissie continued. “She’s Justin’s newest acquisition. Julia Bates. She avoids spending the nights with him, or with any man for that matter, because she has a dirty little secret: she snores like a pig.”

  “Really?” Lizzie looked at her with curiosity.

  “Uh-huh.” Krissie nodded. “I heard she’s wearing that new anti-snoring device. She sticks it in her mouth overnight. It makes me think of a horse’s bit. Imagine if Justin tried to kiss her while she wore that thing.”

  “Hah!” Lizzie snorted.

  “Then there’s Paris Rhodes, the petite brunette with curly hair.” Krissie sent he
r chin forward once more in a curt tip. “She has a flat butt. I guess that’s why Justin dumped her. The rest… they’re all history, just like her. Just hoping for a second bite.”

  “Damn beggars,” Lizzie muttered with disdain.

  Krissie bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a smile. “The only one to watch for is Kate Pearce. The dark blonde with green eyes. See her? She behaves like the queen of the castle. For all the good reasons too. She’s been his favorite for more than six months now. That’s a record.”

  Bitter jealousy bit at Lizzie’s heart. She stuck her nose in her book again, suddenly quiet.

  “Don’t worry.” Krissie patted her arm. “We’ll ditch them.”

  “Bullshit,” Lizzie mumbled. “He wouldn’t look at me even if there was no other woman left on the planet.” She suddenly realized what she’d said. She had laid her heart on the table in front of a complete stranger. “Crap!” She winced.

  Fond understanding warmed Krissie’s features. “You don’t have to say it, Jimmy. It’s written all over your face. If he doesn’t see it, it’s because he’s blind like a bat and a complete idiot too. Like the entire male species.” She sighed.

  She’d called her Jimmy… And it had come from her heart. Lizzie smiled inwardly. She was really starting to like this woman.

  “I better go inside for a little while,” Krissie stood up. “The stench of the piglets drives me crazy. I’m a vegetarian, you know?”

  “Okay,” Lizzie nodded. She watched her sister-in-law walk away with sinuous grace in a display of hourglass curves and perfectly shaped legs. Alone again…

  Her gaze turned once more toward the group of chatterers. Kate Pearce was sitting at Justin’s side, her legs languorously crossed, staring with calculated boredom at her manicured fingernails. The posture of a woman who had no fear of losing her crown.

  Lizzie stood up and walked slowly to one of the tables, sweeping the mountain of food with absent eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was hunger that had pushed her to come or the urge to be closer to Justin.