“Merci,” I replied, accepting the drink.
She sat down on my lounge chair in front of my legs and fumbled with the seam of the three layers of my skirt. “That dress suits you so well. You should wear it more often.”
I winced. “I don’t feel well in it. You shouldn’t have picked it out for me today.”
Her sneaking into my room and placing the dress on a hanger outside my wardrobe before I woke had really startled me this morning. Especially, since she never walked into my room uninvited. A habit of both my aunt and uncle that I appreciated.
A confused smile tugged on her lips, and she glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “What are you talking about? I never pick outfits for you to wear, you know that.”
“But you placed the hanger on my wardrobe door,” I replied, suddenly not so sure. “How else would it get there?”
And how indeed?
“Maybe you put it there before you went to bed last night?”
“You know me. When have I ever chosen a color like this to wear?” I arched a brow and lifted the top layer of the skirt demonstratively. “I don’t even know why this was still in my wardrobe. I thought I’d given all the fancy colored clothes back to you ages ago.”
Marie cupped my chin, searching my face with compassionate eyes. For the flash of a second her mind was transparent. I dreaded her next words.
But sure as hell, she didn’t disappoint. “Is this like the piano playing in the middle of the night?”
Hell yeah, it was. And just because none of them had heard the music at night, it didn’t mean that no one had played the damn piano. My song. Hallelujah. The melody that had stuck in my head since I was a child.
After I had found the parlor empty that night and screamed my head off, Marie had made me a cup of warm milk with honey and tucked me back into bed. “So soon after your mother’s death, it’s only natural that your mind plays tricks on you sometimes. Everything will get better in time,” she’d assured me.
If only.
The music kept playing in my mind. And I knew it could only be there—in my mind—because I used to lock the lid over the piano keys in the evening and took the small brass key up to my room. The metal felt hot in my palm when I lay in bed, tense and anxious that something was seriously wrong with my brain, while the softest melody played downstairs.
But as so many things in life, I got used to it over the months. I never spoke of it again. And damn sure I wouldn’t start now.
I lowered my gaze from Marie’s questioning eyes, but snuggled deeper into her soft hands, soaking in the tender feeling of being held. In all the months I had been living with her and Uncle Albert, she had grown on me like a second mother. At times, I found it hard to return her love with the sadness eating me away, but I was still grateful beyond words.
Pressing a kiss onto her palm, I cleared my throat. “I’ll go pay a visit to my mum. Do you want me to bring buns from the baker?”
“Thank you, dear, but I’ve already been there this morning.” She rose from the lounge-chair and went to break a red rose from the bush next to the vine-ladder. “But you may want to bring your mother this.”
“Sure.” I took the flower from her and kissed her cheek.
The trip down to the cemetery took me only five minutes, and I could have walked it blindfolded by now. I knew the exact step count between ours and the light green house of Madame DuValle. Recalled every roughness on the street where puddles would form on a rainy day.
As usual the big iron-gate at the entrance to the graveyard was closed and creaked eerily at my push. The pebbled ground sank softly underneath my flat sandals. One of the tiny sharp stones slid through the straps of my left shoe and pinched my sole. I shook my foot, but the pebble wouldn’t come out, so I leaned against my mother’s tombstone and worked it out of my shoe.
When the stone dropped to the ground, I placed Marie’s flower with the bunch of white roses in the copper vessel. Then I traced the inscription underneath her name on the marble with my finger.
May your angels take care of you, always.
I never knew why, but when the chiseler had taken the order from my aunt before the burial, I’d asked him to carve those words into the stone. Marie found this a lovely way to say goodbye to my mum, but for an undefined reason the line had a deeper meaning to me.
One more of the many mysteries my life seemed to be filled with. A deep sigh expanded my chest, containing a lot of the confusion and longing that wearing this bright yellow dress had brought on today.
“God, Mum, I’m not going mental, am I?” I mean other than talking to thin air at a cemetery.
Movement to my right caught my eye. I whirled about, expecting to face the old lady with the gray chignon. She came here regularly to tend the grave of her recently departed son. The tiny woman used to gawk at me like I was a dead fly in her glass of wine whenever she caught me talking to myself.
But there was no one there. I pressed my palms to my eyes and groaned. “Who’s doing all this to me?” Through my splayed fingers, I peeked at the small square picture of my mother on the white marble. “Are you still hanging around, Mum?”
Blimey, I needed to stop thinking such nonsense. And if I had to think it, then at least keep it to myself. The long argument over the shrink still loomed in the back of my mind.
But something unnatural was going on around me. Something no one else seemed to notice. And why in the world did I keep dreaming of a man whose beauty took my breath away every morning when I woke up?
Because you’re bat-shit crazy.
Yes, that must be it. I arranged the flowers in the vase, brushed the curve of the stone and said a silent goodbye to my mother. “See you tomorrow.”
After dinner, where I’d mostly stared at my food, a strange impulse sent me out onto the balcony. Annoyed with my fear of heights, I had started to train myself to overcome the vertigo that had bothered me my entire life.
At the beginning, my bones shook like the tail of a rattle snake each time I stepped onto the fragile structure, but by now I could lean over the railing to talk to Marie or Albert below without going into hysteria.
The guestroom next to mine had a French door that led to the balcony, too. On warm days, Marie would open the door to air out the completely furnished room, like someone was going to move in any day.
I liked the dark blue bedding. On some evenings, I just sat on the center of the queen-size bed and rocked back and forth in a trance-like rhythm with my legs hugged to my chest.
Peeking into the room through the gently swaying curtains now filled me with a longing I couldn’t understand. With my mother gone, I often felt alone—like during the days when I had lived in the orphanage. But there came moments when I felt even lonelier.
I closed my eyes. In my mind, I saw a pair of gorgeous blue eyes staring back at me from inside the room.
“Who are you?” I whispered when the rays of the setting sun touched the side of my face. If only I could plug my mind to a printer and get the picture of this man on paper. A photograph I could stare at when I was by myself, like now.
Tired from another day filled with thoughts, I stripped off the yellow dress and hung it inside the wardrobe. The fluffy pillow welcomed me, and I drifted off to sleep within minutes.
The dream returned.
I saw nothing but a beautiful face with glowing blue eyes. When I lifted my hand to touch it, the person inched back just out of my reach. In an eerie dreamlike way, I knew I would be chasing the smiling man all night again until I woke with a sigh in the morning.
But this time something was different. Although he wouldn’t allow me to touch his face, I felt a soft caress on my skin. Fingers curled around my hand, warm and smooth. Tender. The sensation seemed so real that in my dream, I struggled to wake. To see who was holding me.
It was a long and hard fight against the numbness of my mind, but finally I managed to open my eyes at least to slits. Dawn filled my room like a sea of gray
fog. Nothing seemed changed inside, but a soft squeeze of my hand dragged my glance down to the side of my bed.
A man knelt on the floor. The beauty of his face took my breath away just like every time I woke after my dreams. But this time a shadow of him still lingered in front of me. He slouched over the edge of my bed, with his chin resting in the crook of his elbow. He gazed at me with his intense blue eyes. The golden strands of his hair falling over his forehead entangled with his long lashes and twitched at each of his slow blinks.
He was clad in a white robe, and a set of giant wings sprouted from his shoulder blades, covered with soft feathers everywhere. They lay like a blanket over the floor. Warmth seeped into me from the hands that held mine.
“I know you,” I breathed, surprisingly calm. “You’ve been there. In my dreams.”
The angel nodded.
“Am I dying?” Maybe I should be afraid. But the image of the angel instilled me with calmness.
A smile played around his sensual lips. “No.”
“Then I’m dreaming?” Or hallucinating like the last eight months when I heard music when no one played it.
He lifted his chin from his arm and shook his head slowly. “Not quite. And I can only stay as long as you haven’t fully broken out of the dream.” His whisper was as soft as the wing beat of a dove.
“But you look like an angel. What are you doing in my room? On the floor.”
“I came to return something to you. Something that I’d stolen from you a while ago.” He cupped my hand with both of his, then brought it to his lips and planted the softest kiss on my curled fist.
I squinted, struggling to fully awake and make sense of what was going on. I should have heeded his warning instead. One heartbeat later, the figure tinted in a misty white halo wavered before my eyes and disappeared.
“Don’t go away. Please stay! Tell me your name!”
As I reached for the vanishing angel in a useless attempt to hold him back, a small paper ball slipped from my fingers and dropped to the floor.
30
RETURN OF THE ANGEL
AS THE SUN rose above the trees, warm rays danced on cream walls. The comforter tucked around my waist, I sat up in my bed and scanned the room for any sign of the illuminated angel. The experience had seemed so real, it had left me with the impression I’d been fully awake.
Stoned? I rubbed the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. Blimey, what did Marie put into the hot milk she served me every evening? If the hallucinations got any stranger, I might reconsider seeing the shrink.
But hadn’t there been something left behind in my vision? A small balled paper had dropped to the floor. Scooting to the edge of the mattress, I peeked under my bed. Nothing.
But, holy crap, there was a crumpled paper ball under my nightstand. The angel had really left a souvenir. Anticipation sped up my breathing as I unfolded the sheet. I recognized my own handwriting, but not the note itself. The headline read Julian’s spooky dual life.
“Julian…” Was that his name? The man from my dream—the angel?
“Inflicts happiness by touch,” I whispered the first line. A tingle started in my stomach, wringing my insides to a tight knot. The sensation spread fast through my body to my head.
Revitalizes the dragon. Resurrected duck today. Reading each line slowly pulled me into what seemed like a roller coaster ride back in time.
I recalled the day my mother had brought me to France, only this time a young man sat between us on the plane. His hand covering my clenched fist had sent waves of happiness into me.
The same happiness that swamped me now.
Julian. The memory was back. It was him who had come outside Abe’s office the very first day we’d met, and he’d freed me from the steel cuffs. The memories of how he’d sat in my room in the orphanage when it was time to get to the airport flooded me. I reveled in the sensation of his protective arms wrapped around me, keeping me safe, when he’d dragged me onto the balcony.
The vision was clear like one of Marie’s freshly polished crystal glasses.
Breathing fast, my eyes skimmed over the lines time and again. Each time a new wave of memories washed over my mind. In the end, I was filled with three weeks of memories that must have been the best time in my life. For I’d spent them with Julian.
The angel.
“Oh my God. How could I forget?” But that part wasn’t a secret any longer either. The moment my mother had died, he’d pressed his palm to my brow and pulled all my memories of him out. Each of them. He’d left me hollow and unknowing. Empty.
“What have you done to me?” My lips trembled with the whisper. The past eight months I went through a depression that had consumed me. I’d doubted my sanity, when it must have been him who had played the piano for me at night. And of course he would have place the dress on the door of the wardrobe. Had it not been a present from him the day that he’d first kissed me on the beach?
I covered my mouth with my hand, struggling not to wince with a mix of happiness and despair. My gaze moved to the bottom of the paper. Another line was scribbled to the listing of Julian’s extraordinary behavior, but in a different handwriting than mine.
Loves you more than he can ever understand.
My heart exploded. An unstrained smile stretched my lips. He’d never really left me, and with the subtle actions that only I would notice, he’d made sure that a small part of me remembered him. Even if it was only the shadow of a face in my dreams.
Flipping the comforter to the side, I jumped out of bed, then slipped into my jeans, and tugged on a T-shirt. Barefoot I strode out the door, crossed the hallway to his room, and stopped in the threshold with his name on my lips. But he wasn’t there, the room was empty.
My heart sank.
Reluctant steps carried me further into the room. My gaze wandered over the furniture that no one had used for so long. But Julian had stayed in here for many weeks. His aura had left its imprint—it closed in, enveloping me.
In front of his bed, I stopped as I glimpsed something that was long wiped from my mind. A gray hoodie lay sprawled on the blanket. Blimey, he gave this back to me, too. And I had never even noticed he’d taken it from me along with all the precious memories of him.
Sinking onto the mattress, I pulled the sweater into my lap. Uncertain what rush of emotions and longing the scent would evoke, I hesitated to bring it to my face and sniff. But the joy filling me as the fog lifted from my mind was too great. I buried my face in the hoodie.
Ocean. Sun. Warm, wild wind. Happy day. A kiss. I drowned in the wonderful flood of remembrance. In his arms, the world had stopped turning. He’d taken me to a place between times. To live in a special moment.
“I miss you so much.” The words hurt in my tight throat. And now it was all clear why I never seemed to recover from the loss of my mother. Because I’d lost more than just her. The day that she died, I had also lost the love of my life.
It was hard not to break out in tears after so long, but by pressing my lips together I managed to stay strong. I slipped my arms into the sleeves of the hoodie, which was a few sizes too big for me, and brought the cuffs to my nose to draw in another deep breath of afterglow.
I would have given everything to hold him again, just once more. Julian was the best thing that ever happened to me.
“I love you,” I croaked into the fabric. “I’ve always loved you. From the moment you broke through my protection and walked straight into my heart.”
“It’s about time you realized that.”
A breath caught in my throat. I snapped my head toward the French door where the chuckle had come from. Julian sat on the railing of the balcony, his feet dangling. It was a good thing I was already sitting, or I would have collapsed on the spot at the very sight of him.
There you go. Craziness is taking over.
Julian returned my intense glare. Then he lifted one suggestive brow. “Don’t want to come join me out here?”
Slowl
y, I shook my head. “I’m hallucinating. I’m hallucinating…”
Then why the hell bother to shake your head at a mirage? Why was no one around to slap me when I was so obviously going insane?
Julian drew his brows together, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Come on, Jona. You didn’t make me wait for you this long, to call me a fantasy in the end.”
His voice sounded real. And his body seemed solid, not ghostlike as I had seen him half an hour ago. He also appeared without his wings, dressed in his usual outfit of blue jeans and a shirt.
But, Jeez, what if I fell for my own delusions?
Then make it a good one!
My gulp echoed through the room as I rose from his bed. Knees wobbly, I crossed to the door, but stopped with a hand to the frame for support.
“What brought you back?” My voice had abandoned me completely. In order for him to answer, he would have to be able to read lips.
“You. Because you finally accepted what you felt all along. You’ve learned to trust. And by speaking it out loud you opened the portal for me to return.”
“Fully? Return?” My sandpaper dry tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. It made me stammer. “I—I mean, did you come back as the man or the angel?”
His shoes thudded on the floorboards as Julian hopped down. The overhung boxes planted with bright red flowers shook, releasing drops of dew. His thumbs dipped into his pockets, and he leaned against the railing.
“Fully,” he confirmed. “I’m here to stay.”
I struggled to grasp what he’d said. I’d endured so long without him, and now he’d come back. And he tempted me to run into his embrace. But the small chance that he would vaporize into thin air the instant I wrapped my arms around him kept me rooted. How much craziness was one mind capable of?
“Bonjour, Jona,” my aunt shouted with her usual cheerful tone from the garden below. “Hi, Julian. Will you stay for breakfast?”
I held my breath. Leaning slightly to the side, I gazed past Julian and spotted Marie carrying a scalding pot of coffee and buns on a tray to the table under the willow tree.
Loving Your Lies Page 30