Mirage Beyond Flames (Coriola)

by De Ross, Melinda

  “True,” he consented, “but that’s not what I was referring to when I called you a little idiot.”

  “What then, if you’d care to explain?” she demanded. Then she took another mouth full of whisky, pouring herself another glass.

  “The fact that, after the man explained what happened and he took out the ring asking you to marry him, instead of begging him to forgive you and say I Do a thousand times, you let him walk away thinking you didn’t love him enough to marry him. Don’t you think this is a stupidity demonstration?”

  “I’ve no idea. Is it?” she asked Pirata, rubbing her nose against the cat’s pink one, surrounded by white whiskers. She burst out laughing, finding this scene utterly hilarious.

  “Linda, what the hell are you doing?” her brother snapped, alarmed by her strange behavior.

  “Ah, nothing, I’m just drinking a glass of… whisky. I was thinking I might try to get drunk and I believe I’m on my way,” she giggled. “It tastes horribly, but it’s the… the-ra-peu-tic,” she carefully emphasized each syllable.

  “Linda,” Giovanni told her in his most serious tone, the one he used with unsatisfying employees. “Stop drinking this instant! You have my word that if you don’t stop, I’m taking the first plane to London and I’m gonna give you the mother of all beatings. Stop it right now!”

  She stopped, her glass on the way to her mouth, then she put it on the floor.

  Pirata jumped down to inspect it, whiskers twitching, but he immediately withdrew, shaking himself in cat-ish disgust.

  “Alright, alright, I’ve put it down. The glass, I mean. I don’t like whisky anyway, it burns my throat. It’s a sensation which rather resembles Gerard’s kisses, when he’s unshaven,” she went on dreamily.

  Giovanni sighed and she could visualize him banging his head against the nearest wall. She began laughing once more at this supremely amusing image.

  “Listen to me carefully,” he ordered, accentuating each word. “Go and sleep. In your bedroom, in your bed. Not on the floor, not on the stairs. Tomorrow when you’ll wake up you’ll feel horribly, but you deserve it. After you restore yourself with a cold shower and two Aspirins, go and see Gerard. Tell him how much you love him, for Heaven’s sake, tell him everything you’ve told me. Ask him to forgive you for doubting him, for letting your past and your complexes stand in the way of your relationship. Do you wanna marry him, Linda?” he asked, knowing that, generally, alcohol brought to surface truths hidden deep in drunk people’s subconscious.

  “Yes. Yes, Giovanni, I do, with all my heart. My life simply has no purpose without him. Not even my work, nothing brings me joy if he’s not there to lighten my life,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Then tell him that,” he urged. “Not now,” he added quickly, “I don’t think it’s prudent at all to drive or speak to someone at the moment. But tomorrow, when your mind will be clear, go and look for him, tell him you want to marry him. And then call me. Got that?”

  “Yes. Thank you, my darling, I wish so much you’d be here…”

  “I will be, at your wedding,” he pledged. “Now go and sleep. Promise?”

  “Promise,” she replied with a deep sigh. “I love you, mio fratello.”

  “I love you too, cara mia. Sleep well.”

  She put down the phone, then got up slowly. The counter’s triangular surface seemed to rotate, to transform itself in amusingly abstract ways. Supporting herself against every object of furniture and laughing while tears trailed down her cheeks, she drudgingly climbed the stairs to her bedroom, falling face down on the bed. Her last more or less coherent thought was that her sheets still wore Gerard’s perfume.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Linda wasn’t sure what had awakened her - the strong light coming through her windows or the dull pain threatening to split her forehead in two. She opened a cautious eye, rolled it with dizzying pain to the nightstand clock, noting it was past lunchtime. She was still face down on the bed, fully clothed. At first, she wasn’t capable to remember even her own name, but slowly her awareness installed and with it, her memory.

  When she reconstituted all – or nearly all – facts of the past night, she groaned and tried to grab a pillow to bury her head underneath it.

  Pirata, who was probably stalking her for hours, took advantage of this miraculous moment of lucidity and started meowing insistently, as if he intended to break her eardrums.

  “Hush…” she told him, wishing badly to simply dissolve in the mattress. She lifted her head with a deliberation as agonizing as the vertiginous pain in it. She prayed for that object to slide off her shoulders at once and roll under the bed.

  The sense of responsibility prevailed. Moving with the same cautiousness, she dragged herself to the kitchen and fed the cat, who was meowing accusingly, then managed to get back in the bedroom. She undressed, swallowed a couple of Aspirin tablets and crawled under the shower, letting the almost cold water to bring her body in a functioning state using shock therapy.

  After a half an hour of alternating cold and hot water, she got out of the bathroom feeling considerably better. The Aspirin took effect over her headache, but over her stomach as well, so she ate a croissant with sour orange jam.

  She returned to the bedroom and stopped in front of the mirror, studying her face carefully. The blue eyes staring back at her were reddened and shadowed, an unpleasant contrast with her pale tired skin. Her lower lip hadn’t healed, still having a red, ugly mark.

  She lowered her gaze to the jewelry box, straying among her cosmetics. For the first time, she took out the ring and, in a reverential gesture, she slowly slid it on her left hand’s fourth finger. It fit perfectly, that fine gold circle, centering a perfectly proportioned diamond. Gerard knew so well each inch of her body. He had probably measured her finger discretely when she was unaware.

  Tears threatened to flood her eyes again, but she blinked them back. She took a deep breath and began aligning her makeup kits. She didn’t stand a chance to succeed what she’d set her mind to do looking like this.

  She carefully applied makeup, covering as much as possible the traces of a drunken night – an experience she wasn’t going to repeat or tell anyone about. Then she brushed her hair, letting it fall in soft shiny waves on her back, the way Gerard liked it.

  She glanced through the window. Contrary to her first impression, the light was in fact weak, and the sky covered with dark clouds. A storm was announcing its oppressive presence.

  She went to the closet and put on a white, knee-length dress. Over it, she pulled on a white sweater, knitted like a fine cobweb.

  Consulting her watch and noting it was two o’clock, she grabbed her keys and handbag, hurrying to her car.

  She drove to the clinic, her pulse accelerated and butterflies in her stomach. To her surprise, Carolina – astonished to see her there – informed her that Gerard hadn’t come to work, but had announced he’d taken a few days off.

  Perplexed, Linda paused for a moment, hands on the steering wheel, then put the car into reverse and headed to his apartment. Was there something wrong? Gerard wasn’t the man to take time off, especially when he had such an important project on a roll. She thought remorsefully she hadn’t even asked Carolina about the children, about the progress of Gerard’s treatment and about the new treatment for which they had been to Romania.

  She was going to make it up to them, she was going to ask him to tell her everything. The important thing was that he should be safe, that nothing bad should have happened.

  She reached his building, parked the car, occupying with her usual carelessness two parking slots, then nearly ran up the stairs to his apartment.

  She took a few calming breaths, feeling her pulse beating rapidly, like an invisible hammer, in every point of her body, even in her earlobes. She knocked softly. No one answered, so she knocked again, this time louder. She pressed the doorbell several times, with no results.

  Overly worried, she took out
her phone wanting to call his cell, but just then, she noticed an old man who was getting out of a joining apartment. The old man spotted her too. Analyzing her from head to toe, he asked:

  “Are you looking for someone, Miss?”

  “Yes, I’m looking for Mister Gerard Leon.” As if it wasn’t obvious, since she was knocking at his door. “Do you, by chance, know where he is?”

  “Yes, in fact, I saw him just this morning,” replied the old gentleman, shifting an umbrella from hand to hand. “He said he was going to visit Stonehenge, but I advised him to stay home, considering the weather conditions. You see, it’s not prudent to sit in an open space or field during a storm, because…”

  “Stonehenge?” she interrupted. “He went to Stonehenge?”

  “Indeed, I was just saying so, Miss. In spite of my advice, he told me he was determined to visit Stonehenge, though I kept trying to convince him. He has all the time in the world to go see that place, in a nice weather. Not now, when it’s obvious we’ll have a nasty storm and…”

  “Thank you very much for the information,” she interrupted again and flew down the stairs, already calculating the time it would take to get there.

  She started the engine and the GPS, hoping this time technology would be her friend, not her enemy.

  After her own estimations, confirmed by those of the guiding device, the trip was going to take a couple of hours. Once she entered the London traffic, she thought the approximate time was just an optimistic appraisal.

  Although it was barely afternoon, the light was low and the sky remained covered by clouds. A latent, oppressive tension seemed to hover in the air, charged with static electricity.

  When she got out of London, the road cleared somewhat and she advanced easier. She turned on the radio, in an attempt to rush time and shorten the distance quicker. She had no idea what she was going to say to Gerard, had no plan. Everything she had was in her heart. She prayed to God He’d help her transmit to the man she loved everything she felt. With words, with facts, or simply through the inexplicable spiritual communication that seemed to connect them, ever since the day they’d met.

  Lost in reveries of the moments spent by his side, she followed mechanically the GPS’ instructions, without actively noticing much of the landscape she was crossing, with the speed of the lightning splitting the sky here and there, closer and closer.

  At one point, she gazed somewhere to her left and slowed down involuntarily. In the middle of that green abyss, the stone giants stood proud, contoured on the background of a sky covered by grey-bluish clouds, the same color of the stones from which the huge megaliths were made. Finally, she had reached Stonehenge.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  She parked the car on one side of the road – no doubt illegally – behind Gerard’s Jeep and headed slowly, deferentially, to that bizarre place whose existence or mysterious purpose hadn’t yet been elucidated by the banal humankind.

  Contrary to her expectations, the place was deserted, no doubt due to the imminent storm. Probably today people righteously assumed it was more prudent to stay at home, instead of an open space, in the company of stone monsters sleeping their millennia sleep on this large green field.

  But are they really sleeping? And are they monsters? she wondered, a strange feeling flooding her whole being. Ever since she’d had that odd experience in the Hoia-Baciu forest, she tried hard to see a beautiful benevolent side in anything which otherwise seemed threatening or potentially dangerous.

  Detached from reality for a split second, in her mind’s eye she envisioned a cortege of those enigmatic Celtic priestesses, les halouines, undulating among the megaliths in a strange ritual dance, under the surreal light of a full moon.

  Who could know how many secrets these stone soldiers were hiding, how many pieces of history they’d witnessed for centuries? And how many of these had been atrocities, human sacrifices having obscure purposes? she thought gloomily, shaken by a strong chill when she noticed the weak afternoon light appeared to dim with every step she took toward the stone circle. She couldn’t see Gerard anywhere, but she headed determinedly to the motionless giants.

  They seemed enormous, these mysterious monuments. Although, technically, the tallest stone wasn’t more than eight meters, Linda had the impression their tops, rounded by centuries and weather, entwined with the similar-colored clouds, now and then split by lightning. It was an astonishing, breathtaking sight. Perhaps in a different circumstance it would have resembled an apocalyptic vision, but now, crossed by a strange reverential respect, this place fascinated her.

  She had the inexpressible feeling that inside the circle, time itself was an abstract unstable notion. She had read, of course, books by Diana Gabaldon, a talented author, possessor of an extraordinary imagination and a formidable gift of words. Nothing seemed impossible here, not even fantastic travelling in time and space.

  In that instant she saw Gerard. He sat in the middle of the circle, on a stone which was assumed had served as an altar for the Druids’ sacrifices. Seeing him there, still, his back turned to her, Linda felt her heart racing faster than ever. She ran toward him and he turned in surprise, watching her speechless. He jumped down from the stone, then walked to her, stopping a few feet away.

  Linda gazed at him with such deep yearning she felt herself melting from her love for this man. He was unshaven, dark circles shadowing his eyes. The passion and love she read in the exotic green of those penetrating eyes urged her to take a step toward him, then another. She opened her mouth to say something, but words seemed useless, colorless, expressionless. She raised her left hand, on which she was wearing his ring. Gerard studied it for a moment, but his face remained unchanged. Linda wasn’t able to decipher anything in his attitude. The thought it could be too late pierced her soul and her eyes filled with tears threatening to ruin her carefully applied makeup.

  “Please, forgive me,” she finally whispered, through barely contained sobs. “I was a fool, not only for doubting you, but also because I didn’t appreciate you enough. You were right in everything you said. From the start I tried to avoid you, to keep my distance… Even when our relationship began, I looked for something temporary, without obligations, without my attaching to you. But you know why?”

  He went on watching her, silent, expectant. She went on, while tears were rolling down her cheeks, mixing with the raindrops which had finally began falling.

  “Because, same as you, I knew from the first moment I’ve fallen in love with you. I knew if I was gonna let you get close to me, I was gonna love you the way I couldn’t imagine it possible to love a man. And it happened, Gerard. I love you more than my own life. I don’t have a life without you. Nothing makes sense if I don’t have you by my side. My work, my independence, the tranquility I thought I wanted so much don’t mean anything. Nothing can bring me joy and fulfillment if I don’t have you in my life, every day, each second… I love you!”

  A strange emotion was imprinted on his face, and she reached a hesitant hand to touch him. Water was now pouring down their faces and bodies. Rain was falling in a rhythm more and more alert, but none of them noticed.

  “Do you… Do you still want me to be your wife?” she asked almost in a whisper, looking him intently, her teeth sank in her lower lip, where she felt again a vague taste of blood. It didn’t matter, not even if the world would have come to an end right then, it made no difference. She was only interested in Gerard’s answer.

  He took her hand in his, softly kissing the finger on which his ring was shining. Then he lifted his gaze to her, the old vitality and charm back in his eyes. Those eyes smiled at her in the same manner that had enchanted her ever since she’d seen him for the first time.

  “Considering I spent a fortune on this ring, you don’t think I can refuse you now, do you? Especially after such a declaration.”

  In spite of his seemingly amused tone, the way he pulled her in his arms and kissed her was more serious than ever. She was lost in hi
s embrace, digging her fingers in the muscles of his smooth back, kissing him with all the longing and frantic desire gathered in her since she hadn’t felt his nearness.

  * * *

  Gerard embraced her hard, running his hands over her body, now wrapped in wet clothes. He buried his fingers in her hair, breathing deeply the scent that had haunted his dreams, huskily whispering words of love in his maternal language – the only one he could remember in these moments. His mind was blinded by a ruthless wave of passion, by the need to possess and claim this woman. His woman.

  They made a few steps, chained in a dizzying embrace, until her back encountered one of the huge standing stones surrounding them. He pressed her with his body against the cold wet stone, his voice rough and urgent.

  “I got to have you, Linda. Now and forever, I want you to be mine. I love you…”

  Her eyes were closed and her face turned to the sky which now flooded the earth. She didn’t need words to express that her feelings were mirroring his. She clumsily pushed away the wet barrier of her clinging skirt, then surrounded him with all her limbs. They both abandoned to the immense pleasure enveloping the mat the steaming contact of bare skin on bare skin. She gasped when she felt him hard, holding her with his strong arms, sinking into her with a supreme sigh of satisfaction and possession.

  She opened her eyes and their gazes connected with a startling impact. She looked mesmerized by the green of his eyes. He saw that green reflected in her blue irises. It seemed wild, untamed, as intense and penetrating as their love-making.

  She seemed lost in the tumult of feelings and sensations he provoked her. A moan escaped through her lips, wet from the rain and from his kisses. Her entire body trembled, consumed by the same enormous pleasure he was feeling.