by Gun Brooke
Aeron paled, only to blush a fierce crimson moments after. “You really can be an asshole when you feel like it, can’t you? I kept telling Annelie and Carolyn how nice you are and how supportive you’ve been—and you have. I just didn’t know you were such a Jekyll and Hyde. You really didn’t need to lecture me. If you thought we were getting too intimate too fast, all you had to do was say so. Either you must consider me incredibly immature or fragile, or perhaps both, since you didn’t think that was a possibility. How the hell can you first be the sensitive, if a bit aloof, woman I’ve known until now and then turn into…this? I don’t get it.”
Aeron gestured at Sylvie as if she faced something foul. “Don’t worry. You’re quite safe. I’m not going to accost you.” Aeron stabbed the console with an angry index finger as she set the alarm code. “I’m going to bed. That should suit you since you’re so tired. She strode up the narrow staircase, and then a door slammed shut upstairs. Sylvie heard the shower start.
Trembling now, Sylvie sank down on the third step of the narrow staircase. She’d blown it all: the joint business venture and the budding friendship, not to mention the memory of those hot kisses. She could still feel Aeron’s hands against her. Whimpering, Sylvie slapped a hand over her mouth and pressed her forehead to her bent knees. “Why?” she whispered to herself. “Why couldn’t I just level with her? What the hell’s wrong with me? What?”
Chapter Eighteen
Aeron didn’t like being back in Manhattan and having noises and smells forced upon her. Sylvie had been annoyingly correct ever since they had driven back from the Adirondacks and the whole mess that had ensued after the intimate moment in the woods. If it hadn’t been for Aeron overhearing Sylvie’s self-berating words on the stairs afterward, she’d have given up.
Sylvie had offered her to let her use one of her guest rooms, but the thought of spending days and nights with Sylvie was enough to make Aeron hyperventilate. Not that she wouldn’t have loved to do that if the circumstances had been right, but not like this. Not with Sylvie walking around her like she was braced for impact.
She kept reading her mother’s diary in between going with Sylvie to certain functions and meetings regarding Classic Swedish Inc. As it turned out, Aeron was such a fast typist, she replaced Thomas on a few occasions when he was taking care of his sister with Down syndrome. Slowly, as Aeron made herself useful and didn’t mention their falling-out in the Adirondacks, Sylvie began to relax. She even smiled faintly a few times, which Aeron took as a good sign.
Their trip to Sweden came up faster than she realized as the weeks flew by. Aeron wanted to know what to take, and all she got out of Sylvie was “normal clothes, nothing fancy.” She packed for several different occasions, as she knew Sylvie came from a rich, posh family, much like herself.
When they boarded the plane, Aeron realized they wouldn’t be communicating on the flight as Sylvie donned her earbuds and began listening to the latest reports from Thomas and her next in command.
With a sigh, Aeron pulled out her mother’s diary. Moving it back and forth between her hands as if it were hot to the touch, she debated whether to put it back in her bag or not. She had kept picking it up since she read from it last time, but something made her return it to her nightstand. Reading it while alone scared her. Perhaps it was because she could actually hear Maeve’s voice with every word. Now when she was sitting next to Sylvie, even if they weren’t on the best of terms, she might be able to keep reading.
The Hamptons—September 1988
I’m pregnant. I’m having Captain Aero’s baby and am happier and more afraid than I’ve been in my entire life. I’m going to tell him tonight when we’re at our favorite spot on the beach. I know he’s married, but once he finds out he has a baby on the way with me, he’ll choose me. I just know it.
I admit, I’m afraid he’ll be angry. He’s never shown any anger toward me before, but he might get the idea I’ve been out to trap him or something. I’ve had friends try this (of course they weren’t really pregnant) to keep uninterested boyfriends, but that never works. Captain Aero must know by now how much I love him. I haven’t actually said it, but I’m going to do that too, tonight.
The Hamptons—September 1988
I didn’t tell him.
We never had a romantic date on the beach tonight. He started talking to me immediately in the car, telling me how bad he felt for leading me on, for not telling me the whole truth. He’s married, this I knew, but he never told me he has two little boys. That changes everything. I just clammed up and forced my tears to dry up and never fall. He asked me time and time again if I was all right. I told him I was fine. To make things worse, I laughed and called our times together a summer fling that didn’t really mean anything. I think that hurt him, but I was in such agony myself I just couldn’t bring myself to care right then. Now I regret saying that. Oh, my, do I regret it.
But I don’t regret not telling him about the baby. I’m not going to have an abortion. I’m going to have this child, and it will be the only thing I have of him. That will have to do. Now I have to break the news to my parents before I start to show. I’m so nauseous that I’ve become quite skinny, so I may show earlier because of that. They’re bound to blow all of their fuses and threaten to ground me for life. I won’t change my mind about the baby no matter what.
Captain Aero is lost to me. I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. I just want to rewind time to yesterday, when I didn’t know about the pregnancy and was still happy and madly in love.
Now I’m crushed and still madly in love. How the hell will I survive this?
I’m sorry, little, tiny baby. I will have you, and I’ll pour all my love for him on you, I promise. You’ll be mine and I’ll take care of both of us.
Aeron put the diary into her briefcase before she made her way to the plane’s restroom. There she cried into a paper towel long enough that she was afraid she’d make herself sick. Maeve’s pain was so real it pierced her heart. Her hopefulness for the future and her unrealistic thoughts of what it was to have a baby all helped to escalate Aeron’s pain for her mother’s sake. Poor little seventeen-year-old Maeve. What a child she’d been despite being so precocious.
Wiping her face with tissues, she hoped Sylvie wouldn’t notice she’d been crying as she returned to her seat. She needn’t have worried. Sylvie didn’t even look up and just kept working. That suited Aeron fine. She pulled a blanket over herself and turned her back toward Sylvie, then promptly fell asleep.
*
Gothenburg, which was actually called Göteborg in Swedish, judging from the road signs, turned out to be a lush city. As they passed through the city toward the area where Sylvie’s family resided, Örgryte, Aeron saw parks and alleys everywhere. She remembered the article in the airplane magazine from Schiphol airport, Amsterdam, to Gothenburg saying it was Sweden’s second largest city. Now when they sat in the backseat of one of Thorn Industries’ company cars, she turned to Sylvie, trying to break the ice. “Why isn’t your family based in Stockholm? Wouldn’t the capital be the logical place for Sweden’s first financial family to reside?”
“You can ask my father that later. He has a fascinating, ready-made speech on the subject that he loves to deliver.” Sylvie didn’t look at Aeron but instead raised a cell phone to her ear and carried on a conversation in Swedish. Aeron guessed Sylvie was talking with her mother. When she disconnected the call, Sylvie kept her gaze locked straight ahead.
“Everything all right on the home front?” Yet another question Sylvie might refuse to answer, which was ridiculous.
“Mom’s fine. Father’s at the office. He refuses to realize he’s seventy-five and should be retired by now. He’s lived most of his life in the fast lane and can’t slow down.”
“Can’t say I blame him. Getting old doesn’t sit well with most people. Someone told me once that we’ll all get slower, drier, fatter, and colder with age. It’s normal.”
Snorting, Syl
vie glanced at her. “Sounds lovely.”
“Doesn’t it?” Aeron smiled carefully. This was an almost-smile from Sylvie, which ought to mean progress, right? She’d been so cold and remote ever since the Adirondacks, even if she had dutifully listened to everything from Maeve’s diary. The thought of the diary made Aeron hug her messenger bag harder.
The driver pulled onto an avenue with old trees. They drove for a couple of miles farther, and then the most beautiful old house appeared. It was more than a house; it was a mansion. Built from wood, it was painted a custard yellow with white trim around the windows and the corners and had a red-tile roof. A perfect lawn stretched for as long as Aeron could see around the building. Oak, birch, and copper beech trees grew about twenty yards apart throughout the park.
“It’s stunning. How old is this?” Aeron gaped, but she didn’t care. She’d never come across such a building in the US or in South America.
“It originates from the 1680s, but has been added to through the years. My parents put in the modern updates in the seventies. I think they added a pool ten years ago. It’s in the back by the patio.” Sylvie sounded like a tourist guide.
Aeron regarded the circular driveway where the driver now rounded the impressive flowerbed that encircled a marble statue of some Greek god or other.
“Who’s the dude?” Aeron crinkled her nose. “He looks…well endowed.”
Sylvie guffawed and gave her first real smile since the Adirondacks. “Oh, God, you have to promise to tell my father that. He’ll be appalled, but it’ll truly make my mother’s day.”
“If you insist.” Aeron would do just about anything to have Sylvie warm up to her again.
“I do.”
The car stopped, and a blond woman stepped out on the broad staircase. “Sylvie, honey. It’s been too long. Far too long.” She rushed down the steps and wrapped her arms around Sylvie. “I’m so glad you made it.”
“You can thank Aeron. If she hadn’t agreed to come and help ward off Father, I most likely wouldn’t have.” Sylvie spoke kindly, but with such a serious note in her voice, nobody could doubt she meant every word.
“Then I must take a look at this wonder woman.” The blonde strode over to Aeron and extended a hand. “Welcome to Gothenburg. I’m Camilla Thorn, Sylvie’s mother. I’m so glad to meet you. It’s about time.”
“As Sylvie said, I’m Aeron. Aeron DeForest.” Aeron wondered about Camilla’s last comment. What was about time? She didn’t want to press on with questions right away, so she filed her inquiry for future reference.
“You look a bit young, but some mature faster than others, I gather.” Camilla hooked her arms under Aeron’s and Sylvie’s, pulling them with her up the stairs.
“My bags…” Aeron tried to free herself, but Camilla would have none of that.
“Never mind the bags. Lars will take care of them and put them in your room. Now, I want you to meet everyone. Come on.”
“Everyone?” Sylvie sounded suspicious.
“A little luncheon. A small gathering of your friends and some relatives. This is what you get for not being home often enough. It sort of becomes an event.”
“Mom, what did you do?” Sylvie’s eyes darkened. “Aeron and I are tired from the flight and want to have a shower and rest—”
“Nonsense. You’re young, Aeron obviously even younger. What’s a little flight across the pond for the two of you? Besides, you look wonderfully well dressed, both of you. No excuses. Everyone’s on the patio since we’re having a virtual heat wave.”
Aeron stumbled at Camilla’s side and felt anything but well dressed and rested. She was wearing her Tommy Hilfiger leisure suit, which was stylish enough to walk around the Hamptons in, but she hadn’t even had time to brush her hair. Thank God she’d brushed her teeth on the airplane before they landed.
“Mom, we’re going to discuss this later.” Sylvie growled and then sent an apologetic glance toward Aeron, who merely shrugged.
As they passed through the house, Aeron was so nervous about the waiting crowd, she barely registered antique furniture with curvy legs, golden dressers, and tall clocks as Camilla guided them. When they walked through the tall double doors to the patio, she noticed that she and Camilla had completely different criteria for a “small gathering.” At least fifty people sat and stood with a drink in their hands, and they were all turned toward the newcomers.
“Look, everyone,” Camilla called out in English. “Sylvie’s finally here with her girlfriend! Her name is Aeron DeForest, and now we must all make her feel very welcome so she can persuade our wayward daughter to visit more often.”
Sylvie flinched visibly, and Aeron stood as if lightning had just gone through her entire system. Did Camilla mean girlfriend in a romantic context or girlfriend as in a buddy? How the hell could she be meant to decipher the Swedish subtext?
“When’s the wedding, Sylvie?” a young man shouted from the far end of the patio.
“Oh, my God.” Sylvie gasped and freed herself from her mother. “Mom, tell me you didn’t just out me and our guest?”
“I did nothing of the sort. Everyone already knows you’re gay, honey. That means I didn’t out anyone. Come on. Have a mimosa and relax.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Aeron muttered to Sylvie. Jet-lagged, starving, and then alcohol.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you pour most of it in the flowerbeds.”
It was Aeron’s turn to snort at the outrageous suggestion. It didn’t matter to her if anyone here thought Sylvie and she were an item. She didn’t budge from Sylvie’s side during the long, agonizing meet-and-greet. Only once did she see true happiness in Sylvie’s eyes.
“Still running the gauntlet for dear mommy,” a low, teasing female voice said.
“Viktoria! What a surprise.” Sylvie flung her arms around the petite woman in front of them. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see an actual friend here.”
“As it happened, I was in town and heard you were doing one of your rare bow-in, stay-three-days, bow-out things.” Viktoria grinned and looked up at Sylvie’s eyes. “I can see your mother isn’t exaggerating this time. She’s almost given up hope of you ever falling for someone for real. Thank God it happened, finally.”
Sylvie grew rigid and took a step back. She looked so trapped, Aeron had to act.
“Hi, I’m Aeron.” She extended her hand, but before she knew what Viktoria meant to do, she found herself wrapped up in a firm hug.
“You’re gorgeous. And you look like the perfect woman for Sylvie. She’s not easily charmed, our girl, but I can tell you’re like made for each other.”
“Thank you. We haven’t known each other for very long, but Sylvie is a wonderful person, and I count myself lucky to be her girlfriend.”
“She’s just as lucky.” Viktoria wrapped her arms around their waists and held on.
Just as they started walking, another voice virtually erupted behind them. “And here she is, my long-lost daughter. Sylvie, don’t I get a hug as well?”
Sylvie’s muted gasp didn’t escape Aeron. Daniel Thorn had arrived.
*
He stood there in his usual arrogant lord-of-the-manner style, the usual smirk in place.
“Father,” Sylvie said and met his eyes without flinching anymore. “You look well.”
“Why, thank you, Sylvie. As do you, despite jet lag and, what was it, starvation?”
Had he been spying on them as they arrived and walked through the house?
“Yes,” Daniel said as if he read her mind. “I was on my cell by the fireplace when Camilla hauled you and Erin, was it, through the living room.”
“Aeron DeForest.” Aeron couldn’t make herself force warmth like she had with Viktoria and Camille. Now the man that had hurt Sylvie so badly over the years stood there with smug look, as if he knew something they didn’t and was about to drop a bomb on them. Gleeful. That was a good word to describe his expression. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
> “I bet you have, but I promise I don’t bite—much.” Daniel Thorn chuckled.
God damn it. Did he have the audacity to flirt with her? Didn’t he think she was his daughter’s girlfriend too? Then it hit her. He was goading her. It was the classic “I know that he knows that I know” situation. Daniel Thorn wanted her to come at him in front of the family’s friends and in his own house. He planned to make her act out, say something that would embarrass her, and him, thus weakening her in the eyes of the spectators. What a conniving, shrewd thing to do.
Thinking fast, Aeron put on her best innocent expression. “You may not bite, sir, but I do. You’re lucky I have standards and don’t chew on senior citizens.”
It was quite interesting to watch Daniel Thorn become flustered. His eyes would have incinerated her if he’d been able to unleash the fire she saw there. Instead, he decided to laugh her comment off, only he took a little too long and that made all the difference. Aeron didn’t think anyone among the guests bought his sudden joviality, even if he could probably intimidate them if need be. Daniel took his wife’s arm and headed toward the bar over by the pool, where he poured himself a drink, and Aeron could see him speaking fast and pointedly, even if she couldn’t hear his ranting from where she stood. Camilla looked increasingly annoyed, and eventually she snatched a glass from the counter and left him standing there.