Beyond the Black Curtain

by Hayley White

  She should leave the study. Just get out. It was unthinkable that she should consider going through Stroud’s desk. But she didn’t leave. There was something else. In the drawer. An envelope. Hand addressed. She’d caught a glimpse of it when she put the photo away.

  Ever slowly slid the drawer open. Stared at the half of the envelope that was visible. It was way back in the drawer. Way back beyond her privilege, but not beyond reach. With two fingers she slid the envelope closer to the end of the drawer. Yes. Addressed to Stroud. James Stroud. A return address. Paris. Sender: Nicole Arier.

  Ever swallowed. This was personal. Someone else’s mail. One does not read someone else’s personal mail. Never, never. This is what she was telling herself as she picked the letter out of the drawer, along with the photograph, which she set on the desk top.

  She lowered herself into Stroud’s chair, took the letter out of the envelope, unfolded two neatly creased handwritten pages. Pink stationery, but very pale pink. Nothing flashy. Nothing gauche. Not from Mademoiselle Nicole. Oh, so Parisian! Arier. Ever started to read.

  ‘Dear James,

  It is definitely too long since I have written but things have been hectic...’

  Yadda Yadda Yadda ‘I was sorry to have missed your call, but I was out of town. Business. You know how it is! I didn’t know if you’d heard, Maurice was terribly ill last fall. Poor thing, walking around for weeks with...’ Yadda Yadda Yadda ‘Of course, it’s been so long since we have SEEN you! Naturally, everyone understands, but we wonder when the Wandering Boy will return from the wild frontier! We all miss you and I, especially, when I see the fresh éclairs lined up in the window of Mme Loret’s patisserie. You remember-’ ÉCLAIRS!? ‘Heal, darling, and come back to us soon. Your city awaits...’ Ah, yes. All of Paris has been holding its breath for your return, darling! ‘(What do you think of my English writing? I have had to practice because of my extended duties.)

  Write soon!’

  Then some closing in French. Damn it. The only part of the letter of any importance and she had to write it in French!

  Ever had wanted to take Spanish in school and what did they give her? FRENCH. And had she paid attention? As if she’d been able to predict that twenty-seven years down the road her entire emotional life would hang in the balance over one lousy little phrase she could not interpret!

  She stared and stared at the phrase, not really thinking. Not really able to see it that well through the tears threatening to spill over and make muddy pools of Nicole’s precise penmanship. Fountain pen. The little snot. A fountain pen for heaven’s sake!

  ‘Votre.’ That was ‘your’, wasn’t it? Your loving... adoring... devoted... ‘c-o-u-s-i-n-e’. Ending in an “e”. Feminine, of course. C-o-u- Shit. Nicole was a cousin. Stroud’s COUSIN.

  You fool. You twit. You most relieved of all lonely, loony women! His cousin.

  Ever picked up the receiver and started to dial. A very English voice answered the call half a world away and Ever said, “May I please speak to Charles Merchant?”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  The light of optimism illuminated the end of October as brightly as the darkness of doubt had overshadowed the start of September. The pattern of Ever’s days underwent new changes.

  She saw little of Caroline outside of work as Caroline’s obligations increased with the start of the school year. Likewise, Brooke’s contact became sporadic for reasons that were less clear. Ever hardly noticed the drop off because she’d been wholly dedicated to the completion of her novel.

  But now the novel was done. The manuscript was on its way to London and Ever had nothing but time for reflection.

  Stroud had been gone three months when he called with Charles Merchant’s number. So much had changed in those few moments.

  Apart from the mad dash to get the manuscript sent out, the next two days were marked by a state of inactivity. On Saturday Stroud called again, to follow up about the manuscript, and Ever suddenly realized how tired he sounded. On Sunday morning she awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. She pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and grabbed the keys to Stroud’s house.

  ***

  The dusting was just about done when Ever happened to glance out the front window. Brooke’s car was just pulling up outside. God. What a sense of timing that man had. She swept the rag over the last few inches of sill and headed for the patio doors. More than likely, he’d be looking for her at the back house.

  As Ever passed through the small sitting room, it didn’t require ESP to sense something was not quite right. Upraised voices echoed from the back yard. Through the window Ever spotted Brooke and Caroline standing at the glass paneled door of the little house. Apparently Caroline had preceded Brooke by only a few seconds, having left her car in the driveway at the side of the main house.

  “Well, did she answer?” Brooke demanded.

  “Not yet,” Caroline replied. “I’ve only been here a minute.”

  “You need to knock louder,” Brooke said, rapping sharply on the glass. “She might be upstairs.”

  “And she might be in the shower,” Caroline suggested, her voice rising over Brooke’s knocking.

  “All the more reason to knock loudly,” Brooke argued, pounding more insistently. “Ever!”

  “Or she could be taking a nap,” Caroline said, in a near shout. “No point in making so much noise as to wake her!”

  “Well, don’t you think she might be awake by now?” Brooke countered, matching the edge in Caroline’s tone.

  “Well, you’re making enough noise to wake the dead!”

  “If you two don’t pipe down, someone’s going to phone the police!” Ever called across the yard. “Might be me.”

  Brooke and Caroline froze, then turned as one to see Ever standing on the patio.

  “There you are!” Caroline exclaimed.

  “Right here,” Ever affirmed. “What’s going on?”

  “I came to see if you’re alright,” Caroline said.

  “Just fine,” Ever reported. “And you?” she queried, her eyes turning to Brooke.

  “I wanted to make sure you’ve been working on the book.”

  “Finished it,” Ever replied.

  “It’s finished?”

  “I’ve submitted it to a publisher.”

  “No kidding!” from Caroline and Brooke shot her a look.

  “No kidding.”

  There was an awkward silence, which Ever rather enjoyed.

  “Was there anything else?” she asked.

  There was the merest pause, then Brooke seized Caroline’s arm. “Yes! Who the hell is this?”

  Caroline’s head jerked around, eyes blazing.

  Ever smiled slightly. “That’s Caroline. Caroline, meet Brooke.”

  When Brooke’s eyes met Caroline’s, Ever could swear the sparks would ignite the nearby foliage. Here was a match made in hell.

  “Now, if there’s nothing else, why don’t you children push off…” She held up the dust rag. “Unless you’d like to get into some housework?”

  Their heads creaked around in unison, faces bewildered.

  “No? Never mind. I’ve got it well in hand. See ya!” Ever flashed a sweet smile and turned to reenter the house, calling over her shoulder. “Oh, and Brooke? Instead of manhandling her, you might make a better impression on Caroline by inviting her for coffee...”

  ***

  That night it was just cool enough for a fire and Ever sat contemplating the flames in Stroud’s fireplace. The house was dusted, mopped, polished and vacuumed top to bottom. Ever treated herself to pork chops and steamed vegetables for dinner and was now savoring her second glass of wine.

  At eleven p.m. she reached for the phone to dial the number she had memorized but never called. On the second ring a crisp female voice answered.

  “Bonjour?”

  “Nicole?”

  “Oui.”

  “This is Ever.”

  “Oh, yes! Let me put Stroud on.”

 
; “Thank you.”

  It was eight a.m. in Paris. They were probably having breakfast. In a few moments Stroud came on the line.

  “Ever, is anything wrong?”

  “Stroud, it’s time to come home.”

  ***

  Twenty-four hours later Stroud’s return flight was booked and, since Ever wanted to meet Stroud at the airport on her own, Brooke agreed to lead the way in his car with Ever following in hers. He saw her safely through the labyrinth of parking levels, stopping long enough to see her off and quell her fears about the return journey.

  “Stroud knows the way home,” he said and they both took pause to consider the unintended depth of his remark.

  Brooke’s words were playing through her mind as she sat beside Stroud on the white couch. He had seemed happy to see her at the airport and was certainly surprised by the car and news of her driving license. He was relieved to arrive at the house, but Ever could now see the exhaustion she had only been able to hear over the phone.

  Not yet ready for bed, Stroud accepted her offer of a nightcap. He said very little. He thanked her for handling his affairs so well while he was away. For maintaining the house – yes, it looked beautiful. He was there, but not yet home. It was Ever’s turn to assume the role of guide.

  “Ours has been a very romantic affair,” she said, “but gradually real life issues have made encroachments. First mine, then yours.”

  Stroud nodded in understanding.

  “You’ve cut a heroic, if somewhat intimidating figure. I have played the dominated slave and rescued damsel.”

  He smiled at this.

  “But I want to remind you of something you said when we were in the mountains. You told me you hoped we’d at least become friends.”

  “I remember.”

  “I wasn’t sure of much at that time and of even less while you were in Paris. My insecurities clouded the simplest truths. I’m not made of glass and you’re not made of iron. I want you to know you can trust me, as you once said I must trust you... Can you?”

  Stroud was very quiet and still. Ever touched his arm lightly and, a moment later, his features creased with lines that were not normally there, as though his burden of grief could no longer be carried.

  “Oh Ever... It was devastating... All that beautiful work, lost... The gallery... Poor Laurens, and...”

  Ever understood the ‘and’. She leaned over and held him as he hung his head and wept a bitter river of tears.

  “Paris is not lost to you,” she said. “All it takes is time.”

  Stroud wiped his tired face with a sigh. “I was so lonely. The destruction of the gallery was one thing, but this other... The terrible haunting... There was nowhere to turn. And you sounded so assured over the phone.”

  “Is that how it sounded?”

  “Like you didn’t really need me.”

  “I was lost! I don’t know what I would have done if Brooke hadn’t snapped me out of it.”

  “Ever, I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. I was an idiot.”

  “I will never leave you like that again.”

  “Never go back?”

  “Never go back without you.”

  “I see.”

  “I love you, Ever,” Stroud said, as though it just occurred to him.

  “Just as well, since I can’t go running off to Paris with just anyone.”

  Stroud laughed and embraced her.

  ***

  A couple of days later, Stroud disappeared for several hours, and again several days later, leaving Ever with orders to dress in her finest. When he returned, he snapped the white gold necklace around her neck and they set out in the car for a destination unknown to Ever.

  They arrived at the fish house for an eight o’clock reservation and Thomas waited on them again. It had been a year but he remembered them. He remembered the necklace and he recalled the three crab cakes Ever had ordered and not eaten. When Ever explained it had been their first date, Thomas nodded.

  “I suspected that,” he said. “I trust tonight you will order the whole crab – and eat it, of course!”

  The three of them laughed and Ever accepted Thomas’s offer of the crab – so long as he promised to bring her the tools with which to conquer it. Stroud took more delight in the sight of Ever with that crab than anything he was served that evening. As they finished their wine, he took her hands across the table.

  “Ever,” he said, “you’ve already consented to serve as my slave. Tonight I hope you’ll consent to be my wife.”

  He presented her with a ring of white gold, banded around in a twist of yellow gold rope and set with a ruby red stone. Thomas stood by expectantly and swept in with champagne when it became clear Ever had accepted Stroud’s proposal.

  ***

  The joy of the reunion between Ever and Stroud was tainted only by the inability to share their happiness with Brooke and Caroline. Ever understood about Caroline. She’d been very busy with school and had recently taken vacation time from the restaurant to get a running start on her semester work.

  Brooke’s absence was unexplained. Although Stroud understood Ever’s desire to meet him at the airport alone, he had actually expected Brooke to be there. Since his return he’d left several messages on Brooke’s machine, but there was no response. Ever had an idea or two about Brooke’s absence, but she kept them to herself.

  “He values your friendship,” she assured Stroud. “He’s probably just giving the two of us time to catch up.”

  This explanation seemed reasonable to them both but, when three weeks passed with no sign of Brooke, Ever began to truly fear he had severed relations with them both. This seemed to affirm one set of suspicions, yet contradicted others. She was beginning to think she would have to confide her fears to Stroud as she set aside the newspaper and got up from the couch to answer the doorbell on Thanksgiving day.

  “Cool for this time of the year, wouldn’t you say?” “I would,” Ever replied, as brisk as the wind that prompted the visitor’s observation.

  “I hope there’s a turkey in the oven.”

  “There is,” Ever affirmed and opened the door in admittance.

  No one could have been more surprised than Stroud as Brooke and Caroline entered the living room, arms around each other’s waists.

  “Please sir, could you see your way clear to feeding a couple of poor orphans?” Caroline pleaded in her best Oliver rendition.

  Ever closed the door and resumed her seat on the couch beside Stroud. “Well, my lord, do you think we might have a few scraps to spare these lowly waifs?” she asked, simultaneously joining Caroline’s game and setting the parental mood for Stroud.

  “Perhaps,” he said, speaking at last.

  Brooke laughed. “Good, good. I’m starved.”

  “Ditto,” Caroline chorused.

  “So,” Brooke said.

  “So,” Ever echoed, without even the hint of a smile.

  “So. When are you two getting married?”

  “Married?” Stroud and Ever spoke in unison.

  “The two of you are in love, in case you didn’t know.”

  Ever and Stroud exchanged a look. “Oh, we had our suspicions,” Stroud said.

  Ever repressed a smile. She and Stroud stared at their guests, the two of them looking so pleased with themselves. So abrupt and forthright. So anxious to be quizzed about the relationship which had so obviously bloomed between them. It was just impossible to resist the temptation to tease.

  “Have you heard from the publisher?” Caroline asked.

  “Yes,” Ever said.

  “And?” Brooke prompted impatiently.

  “Come next year I’ll be a published author.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Caroline said.

  “I’ve already begun my next book.”

  “Have you?” Brooke was impressed.

  “Yes, and you’re both in it.”

  “Us? Ooo.”

  Brooke’s eyes narr
owed. “From your pen to God’s ear?”

  “Something like that,” Ever said, finally giving way to a smile as everyone laughed. “I suppose you delinquents would like something to drink,” she said, standing.

  Brooke followed Ever out to the kitchen while Caroline and Stroud caught up on news in the living room.

  Ever got out a tray and began mixing everyone’s drink of choice. No need to ask, she knew them all by heart.

  Brooke hovered around, but Ever carried on with the bartending as though unaware of his disquietude.

  “I adore you, you know,” he announced suddenly.

  “I know. And now it seems you adore Caroline.”

  “My God, she’s wonderful!”

  “And I suppose you two are...?”

  “As a matter of fact...”

  “That’s good.”

  “You don’t have to worry, you know.”

  “I don’t?”

  “She’s in good hands. I won’t hurt her.”

  “Then I won’t worry.”

  “Believe me, that woman would give any man a run for his money.”

  “I believe she would,” Ever concurred.

  “Rather like you.”

  “Like me, huh?”

  Ever finally turned with a smile that communicated all the love she felt for the young man.

  Brooke and Ever were locked in a warm embrace when Caroline came in a few moments later.

  “Alright, break it up you two,” she said, sweeping up the tray with hardly a glance at them. “We have a wedding to arrange!”

  Chapter Thirty Three

  The wedding date was set for the seventh of January. Announcements were sent to London, Paris, New York, Sydney and Melbourne, to the couple’s widespread circle of friends and remaining relatives, although the guest list consisted of only a small gathering of those who were close enough to attend.

  Ever suggested the white raw silk suit as her wedding outfit, but Stroud insisted she buy something new. She wore a full length Edwardian style gown with a high neckline and lace inlays that Caroline spotted in a shop downtown. She carried a corsage of white roses and baby’s breath. Stroud looked utterly dashing in a gray morning suit.

  There was quite a debate about the appropriate location for the wedding. Jean offered the restaurant as a possible venue. Brooke’s Aunt Sally offered the gallery. Stroud suggested they rent a yacht, Caroline suggested Stroud’s garden, weather permitting. But Ever had the final say and chose to hold a simple ceremony in the white sitting room of Stroud’s home – the place where it all really began.