Don't Tell the Moon

by LILY TEEGARDIN

  She had told him about the difficult days after Roger’s death, and his part in bringing her back to the world of the living. He had listened intently, kissing her nose and eyelids, and declared his gratitude for the serendipitous moment that had led her to the movie theater and started the amazing chain of events, concluding with this very night. They had laughed over the memory of their first encounter, and he had revealed his secret as well; he had been besotted with her from the first moment he had seen her standing in his home, barefoot, disheveled, exhausted, and shouting something about her toothbrush.

  All through the night, they had shared their secrets, their hearts, and their bodies with each other and the brightly lit moon. “Don’t tell,” she had whispered to the golden balloon at one point, eliciting a grin from Alex.

  “I think it’s safe,” he had said, kissing her ear. “He is very discreet.”

  “That’s all you know. When the moon is quite full and engorged with secrets, he suddenly spills them out over the ocean, and they sparkle like diamonds for all the world to see. And then it starts over.”

  “The lunar cycle, according to Sara.” He had laughed then, gathering her up in his arms once again.

  As the dawn was breaking, she had opened her eyes and turned to face him, realizing that she had never before had the opportunity to truly study his face, look at each and every feature without the fear of self consciousness on either of their parts.

  His eyes had been closed but flickered gently, as if a dream danced behind the curtain of his silky lids, spidery soft lashes keeping out his most private secrets. She had been tempted to touch his cheek, to share in his dreams through the golden shards that lit up the green of his eyes - they would spark in a rainbow of colors when he was laughing or excited about a thought or an idea, but she loved them most when they took on the color of warm butterscotch, during his most relaxed moments, when they shared their wine in front of the fire, or the times that she had caught him looking at her, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

  His mouth. He had laughed one time when a fan had written a sonnet about his lips. The poem had been schlocky, with bad spelling, but in spite of his amusement, Sara had nearly gasped at how correct she had been in her description. Perhaps the most perfect feature on his face, his lips were exquisitely shaped, but there was nothing feminine about his mouth - it was large and full and hinted at soft kisses and even greater pleasures.

  She followed the line of the large and straight aquiline nose with her eye. It was his nose that first caught one’s attention. It looked Roman, or perhaps Greek, and it was outstanding. It also gave him that edge; it was the Crusader, the Beekeeper, the prop for the vast variety of roles that he made his own. Whenever he needed to find his character, he led with his wonderful, distinctive nose.

  His hair was full and flowing, dark blond in his early youth, now streaked with silver. No matter how it settled around his face, it framed his other features, soft wisps that touched his brow, flirted with his earlobes, brushed his neck and the tips of his shoulders.

  His hair was his lion’s mane, and his signature, but Sara’s eyes came to rest on the cheekbones, highlighted by the rising sun. His character was in the remarkable bone structure of his face. Although he now slept with the innocent look of a child, Sara had seen his jaw tighten in steely strength to protect her from danger. He had once nearly ripped the arm off a very large and muscular man who had approached her with a lewd remark at the market, much to her surprise, since she hadn’t been aware that Alex had been anywhere in the vicinity. The rise of his cheeks had flushed and glowed, but at that moment it had not been an actor’s tool, nor had the words that he’d spoken to the hulkish oaf - the fire in his eyes had been all too real.

  She had touched his cheek at the memory, causing him to reach over and turn her body into his, pressing her gently into a spoon position and kissing her ear.

  So much for her diagnostics - She had sighed and fallen asleep with a smile on her face.

  She heard the shrill ring of the fax machine as she stood lost in her thoughts, and she leaned over to see if the paper was from the temp agency, expecting some last minute instructions regarding her turn over with Myrtle.

  Instead she noticed the words: ‘SARA! – IMPORTANT! with a STAR’, that stood out on the cover sheet.

  The note on the following page read:

  To Mr. Fleming’s Housekeeper:

  Mr. Fleming will be leaving immediately for a meeting in Frankfurt, Germany.

  A courier will be sent to the residence in exactly one hour to pick up a suitcase. Please pack with appropriate clothing for estimated one to four day length of stay. Please include these items:

  Sara stared at the fax, her eyes filling with tears. One to four days? She would be gone in three.

  She climbed the stairs and busied herself filling a suitcase, glancing at the impersonal and jarring message on the fax paper from time to time to follow the list as instructed.

  He did not return.

  Sara welcomed Myrtle back three days later and gave her a quick briefing on the items that she had packed for his Switzerland trip. She did not give her any personal messages to pass on to him, possibly due to the dark thoughts that had plagued her for the past two days. There had been no word from him whatsoever.

  At first she had been content to believe that he couldn’t reach her because he had switched all of the incoming business calls to his office phone. But having dwelled on that, she realized that it was also a most convenient way for him not to be able to call.

  Sara hadn’t obtained a private cell phone during her stay at his home, as it had not been necessary, and this was another perfect excuse for a lack of communication.

  Was it simply a matter of poor planning on both of their parts, or perhaps a very practical way for him to end a brief affair?

  At first she couldn’t and wouldn’t accept this, the memory of their last night still fresh in her mind. But as the hours ticked away taking him farther from her, the sweet promises and vows melted from her memory leaving the most negative of thoughts that began to intrude until they tortured her without mercy.

  She had no doubt that he had been sincere in his feelings for her. She had absolutely no doubt that he had made love to her with complete and total abandonment and passion. But the words that he had uttered that evening; “This is so wrong”… were now the only words that seemed to follow her everywhere.

  She left his home as she came, with one suitcase and not much of a plan for the next part of her journey.

  As she rode in the taxi, she decided that perhaps she should return to her original motive for taking this trip. She hadn’t seen much of England at all, spent most of her days cleaning and cooking, and now with the six week paycheck to add to her spending money, she would do just that. She had always known that her time with him would end sooner or later, never dreaming that they would become as close as… but Sara now told herself to file those memories away.

  Two Different Worlds, she repeated over and over in her head.

  Sara’s Story - Part Two.

  Desiring to run away from sad and rainy London for a spell, Sara traveled to Bath by tour bus, taking a side trip to Stonehenge. The female American tourist she sat next to on the bus who had befriended her tapped her on the arm as they stood next to the ancient stone circle. “Sara, honey, the stones are behind you. What on earth are YOU looking at?”

  In truth, Sara hadn’t been looking at anything. Her mind had been a million miles away, and even one of the greatest wonders of the world could not distract her. As the bus glided along the verdant countryside traveling on to Bath, her fellow passengers excitedly pointing out interesting scenery along the way, Sara’s eyes remained on her folded hands nestling in her lap, her thoughts back in London.

  He had always been more than kind to her, from her very first day of arrival, she thought, but she had noticed that he would tense just a bit when they were seen together outside of his home
. The other side of her brain argued that there had been the times when they had gone to the neighborhood market to meander through the stalls of fresh produce, or for a run on the estate grounds. On one occasion he had even joined her in an evening walk down the street to the river side when the spring blossoms had filled the air with a delightful aroma and the sky was russet red with the sunset.

  “For my lady.” He had reached into a bush and plucked a newly budding sprig.

  “Watch out you don’t end up behind bars,” she had laughed, accepting the fragrant white blooms.

  “But you would come and bail me out, wouldn’t you? Please tell me that you would not abandon me. Say you couldn’t live without me,” he had begged, his face a mask of drama, morphing into a broad grin.

  “Oh, depends.” She had joined into his short skit.

  “On what?”

  “Are you willing to give me a piece of that cheesecake that you brought home from the bakery yesterday?”

  “What?? My cheesecake?” he’d sputtered, eyes wide in mock shock. “Hm. You drive a hard bargain. Alright, half a piece, but I get the bigger half.”

  “Nope. No deal. You can rot in jail, unless I get the biggest piece.” She had laughed and let out a squeal as he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around in a circle, growling like a bear.

  The memory had made her smile, but now as she looked up and saw the landscape from the bus window carrying her farther away from him, she felt the sting of tears flooding her eyes.

  They had had many such moments, filled with fun and laughter, but he had desired no more than to have a good and happy relationship with an employee who was sharing his home. That it had in the end turned into something far more personal and intimate was not what he had expected, and he had been merciful to sever their ties with a clean and neat slice. She would have to come to terms with that until the wound was healed.

  She traveled by train on a three day tour of Edinburgh, and could think of nothing but the fact that he had once spent a year filming in Scotland

  “It is the most amazing place!” He had shown her photos, adding excited anecdotes and vivid remembrances of his visit.

  “I really should try to go then, if even for a few days,” she had marveled, his enthusiasm contagious.

  “Yes, you really should. It’s not to be missed,” he had agreed heartily.

  But he hadn’t ever hinted at seeing it together, and why would he have done? There were no plans in his mind for any future adventures that included her.

  A trip to Ireland only reminded her of his Celtic heritage.

  “My parents are Irish, but I grew up in England, so I have always called myself English. But not within hearing distance of my father who would skin me alive,” he had once shared with her.

  She had met the elderly couple on several occasions when they had come to his home, most often on their way to dinner with their son. She was especially fond of his mother, although he took his tall and handsome frame and facial features from his father.

  His mother had a laugh that was contagious, and the skill to make any stranger a friend within minutes of meeting her. She had invited Sara along to dinner on their last visit, but not hearing any insistence from Alex, Sara had declined.

  “Oh, no, I have a cake in the oven and laundry in the washer, but thank you for the kind invitation - perhaps next time.” She had hugged the sweet and charming older woman and waved them all off.

  Would she have gone had he insisted? She doubted it since it was a private time that he savored with his parents and she would not have wanted to intrude. But it was a moot point since he had not.

  The signs had all been there, she nodded to herself. Look back and see the signs and stop wondering. That road was never meant to be traveled to the end.

  She thought she would go mad if she continued her holiday in this frame of mind, and with mixed feelings decided that it might be time to go home. She would check with a London travel agency to see when she could get the next flight back to Florida.

  On her walk down the street where the agency was located, she was surprised to hear someone calling her name.

  “Sara. Sara!” It now became a shout.

  Turning around she saw Stuart trotting toward her, waving his hand wildly in the air. “Sara,” he puffed. “I’ve been trying to catch up with you for two city blocks. You’re a fast walker girl, and you must have your head buried in the clouds because I was calling and calling,” he panted, out of breath.

  “Stuart!” She greeted him with a warm hug and at least two quick kisses to his cold cheeks. “Oh, it is so good to see you. I have missed you,” she said, the memories of happier days flooding into her head.

  “Where are you off to?” he asked, his face tilted to the side in question. “Do you have time for a coffee?”

  “Yes, I’d love that,” she said shivering, the frigid, blustery wind whipping her hair into a frenzy. The deceptive early spring had disappeared this week and London was once again rainy and cold.

  “Come on, I’ve got just the place.” He took her by the elbow and guided her into a small alleyway, then opened the door to a warm and cozy off-the-beat coffee bar. Spotting a secluded table in the corner, he motioned to her to sit, while he purchased two cups of steaming coffee and a plate of assorted cookies from the proprietor at the counter.

  “Well,” he sighed, “I thought I’d seen the last of you forever. I left for a shoot in Hungary the day after our dinner date at Matisse, and when I returned everyone was gone. You, Alex, the Hillsons next door to us. Seemed like everyone on our entire block moved out once I left,” he chuckled. “And Myrtle didn’t seem to know your whereabouts; either that or wasn’t telling, so I had no idea how to reach you.”

  “Don’t blame Myrtle, Stuart. I only spent ten minutes with her. I didn’t leave a forwarding address because I didn’t have one.” She avoided his eyes.

  “Well, I would have gotten it from Alex once he returns. I still have high hopes for us, you know. I’m sure you’re crazy about me; you just haven’t realized it yet,” he said, teasing her with a wink.

  Sara laughed along with him, her true thoughts unrevealed. “Well, Stuart, Alex wouldn’t be able to help you with that information either,” she said. “He had to leave the day after the SIM awards and we never did have a chance to say goodbye. I’m afraid that our friendship was just meant to end like those two proverbial ships passing in the night.” She attempted a casual tone.

  Stuart must have caught something in her eyes. He quickly leaned over and touched her face. “Nonsense. Once Alex is back I’ll throw a grand dinner party. We’ll drink Irish whiskey and toast the Pope,” he winked again. “I may even hire an orchestra now that my dancing ankle is healed.”

  “Well, I hope you have a wonderful time and send me pictures,” she smiled. “I was on my way to the travel agent when you caught me. I’ve developed a small case of home sickness, and I’ve decided to cut my holiday short.”

  “Did you purchase your ticket?” Stuart asked, face suddenly serious.

  “No, I was just on my way,” she said.

  “Then it’s a good thing I caught you. All joking aside, Sara, I am very happy to see you, of course, but the reason that I was chasing you down was because I have a friend who is looking for an assistant. I was telling him about you and he has been pestering me ever since to get your number. I tried to reach you through the agency but they said that you had decided not to fill another post. They didn’t have any way to reach you. I had all but given up and then, lo and behold, I spot you on the street.” He spilled out his story with great enthusiasm and a flourish of his hands, displaying the experienced confidence of a good producer.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she murmured, sipping her coffee and eyeing the cookies, but deciding against the calories.

  “Here is the problem, Sara. These actors have a difficult time hiring assistants that they can trust. Most everyone comes by word of mouth. He is very interested in talking t
o you based on my personal recommendation, and because you have worked for a fellow actor. You are honest and trustworthy… and most importantly, confidential - not the type of employee who leaves an assignment and then speculates writing a book about it,” he continued, as he waved the coveted cookie under her nose. “One bite, darling. Take a chance.”

  “On the cookie or another actor?” She broke out in laughter watching his teasing face and the cookie swirling in the air in front of her.

  “Oh my. Well, I won’t go there, since I know that you won’t talk anyway.” He looked into her eyes. “I see you are still denying…”

  “And I see you are still presuming, Stuart. I had nothing but the very best experience working for Alex. And to prove it to you, give me the name and number of your actor. I’ll talk to him, just to please you, and because you’ve been such a good friend to me. I do owe you at least that much.” She plucked the cookie out of his fingers and chomped off a bite.

  “Wonderful!” He pulled out a pen and pad of paper and wrote the number out for her. “His name is Ian Donnelly. You may have heard of him,” he grinned.

  Sara sighed as the déjà vu moment hit her.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ve heard of him. I think there are very few people on this planet who haven’t.”

  “And Alex wishes he were one of them,” Stuart laughed. “They were both up for the Oscar several years ago and Ian took it. They’ve been friendly rivals for a very long time, even playing brothers on the stage.”

  She briefly wondered to herself how many gods dwelling high up on Mount Olympus had gathered to play this joke on her.

  She had been told that he was a touchy, huggy, feely person. She soon came to discover that this was a gross understatement of the man’s personality.

  Entering his palatial home in Ireland (in fact, it was a palace, or better known as a castle in these parts), Ian Donnelly warmly clasped her hand in both of his, smiling from ear to ear, and talking with the enthusiasm of an old and long time friend. Moments later as they walked to the enormous living area, he slipped his arm around her shoulder, showing her to a chair. Before she sat down, he had hugged her no less than three times, thanking her for coming. Before their coffee was finished, he had patted her hand, rubbed her arm, and in a moment of extreme fervor, clapped his hands to her face and kissed her forehead.