The Secret Ways of Perfume

by Cristina Caboni

  She didn’t know how she’d gone from whispering to shouting. Adeline went over to her and stroked her hand.

  “Calm down, Elena. Your baby can sense everything, and right now it will be wondering why its mommy is so upset.”

  Elena pulled herself together almost straightaway. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s a bit of a difficult time.” She made an effort to smile. “I lost control. Please forgive me, Adeline. You must think I’m crazy.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re pregnant; you’ve had a big row with your boyfriend. It wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t at least a bit upset. You’re hardly made of stone now, are you? Right. So, dry your face. Good, that’s it.”

  Elena was shaking. The words had poured out like a river, urged on by the specter of the past: Maurice. Her stepfather had hated her with a vengeance because she was someone else’s daughter. She was never going to put her own child in a situation like that. She’d much rather bring her child up all on her own.

  “I . . . Life was quite hard when I was little,” she said in a small voice. “I have to be sure the baby will be loved and protected. I should have talked it through properly with Cail, but I never did. I was stupid to go back to Florence without even consulting him. I could have waited, included him in my decision.”

  Adeline smiled at her. “I haven’t got the faintest idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know what happened, but I did get to meet Cail. And apart from being a fine young man, his eyes are right.”

  “His eyes?”

  “Yes, his eyes. Several things can reveal a man’s character. Apart from his behavior, obviously, it’s his look that tells you what he’s really like. Cail’s face lights up when he looks at you. And he’s always by your side. I’ve watched him quite carefully. One of the advantages of being a little old lady, and already off the market, is that you can stare at anyone you like without worrying that they might take it the wrong way.” Adeline also had her doubts about Cail having abandoned Elena without a second thought. She was certain she’d seen him a couple of times around Absolue.

  “And what if he decided it wasn’t worth it? Let’s look at things for what they are: I’m pregnant by my ex, and I want this baby. What kind of man would take on a situation like that?”

  “Come on, Elena!” Adeline exclaimed. “It’s not as if he’s a lion who wants to do away with your cubs; he’s just a man.” She smiled encouragingly. “What really counts are the facts. Did he invite you to the prize-giving? Yes. Has he bred a rose and named it after you? Yes. What more proof do you need? The question you should really be answering here is: what do you want?”

  There it was. She’d gone around in so many circles, but that was the crux of the matter. There was no doubt that she loved Cail. She’d been crazy about him for so long. But she was also intelligent enough to know that love wasn’t enough.

  “I’m so angry, Adeline. In fact, I’m furious. He showed me what it could be like. He loved me for who I was. I felt like myself when I was with him, and then . . . I’m not sure I can go through that again. It hurts so much. At night, I wake up thinking it’s all just a dream. Once I went up to his apartment because I thought I’d heard him come back, but I was wrong.” Her voice was like steel wire, thin and sharp. Every word stung her throat.

  “If you don’t get to the bottom of this thing, if you don’t sort it out, you’ll never be free of it. I know it’s really none of my business,” Adeline said, “but I would go, if only to say goodbye. You know, properly, face-to-face.”

  Goodbye. For good. Elena thought about it, then gave a shuddering sigh. Yes, in the end, that was the one thing she could do.

  • • •

  Despite everyone offering to accompany her to the prize-giving for the new rose at Château de Bagatelle, Elena had decided to go alone. The château’s grounds were an expanse of bright green, dotted with rosebushes boasting flowers of all shapes, sizes and colors. The avenues were divided by dozens of neatly ordered flower beds, reminiscent of an Italian garden. In the middle, roses of all hues: from the most delicate shades of yellow and pink to bold, vivid reds, dark garnet reds and pure white blooms with iridescent petals, fleshy or thin as the finest organza.

  Elena had taken a walk around, but then she had to sit down. She was tired, and afraid. Once her anger had subsided, she had been left with a deep sense of desolation. She wanted Cail to hold her; she wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and let the sun warm her face. Slowly, the smell drifting through the air seeped into her thoughts and calmed her down. When she stood up to walk inside to where the prize-giving was to be held, she felt better.

  • • •

  Cail took care to make sure he was never seen. His anger about the trip to Florence had passed and only the emptiness remained.

  He couldn’t leave her. He’d stayed in Paris and gone back to the Marais at least once a day to check she was all right. He missed her terribly—her and all her crazy ideas. Jumping on the first plane and going off to Florence, while heavily pregnant! Another stunt like that would kill him, Cail thought.

  There she was; he finally managed to spot her and moved carefully over to get a better look. She seemed so sad, so desolate. He had to force himself to hold back. He needed to wait for the right moment: he needed to be sure Elena would understand before he spoke to her.

  She was beautiful. She always had been, in a serene way. And that beauty, of which she was almost unaware, along with her voice and her sweet ways, had bewitched him from the start. But now, as she walked along, with her black dress and her plaited hair, it was as if he was seeing her for the very first time.

  Cail stayed out of the way. He didn’t want Elena to see him, not yet. But he wouldn’t have missed this moment for anything in the world: his tribute to her.

  “Mademoiselle Elena Rossini will collect the prize for Floribunda Hélène. Bred by Caillen McLean of McLean Roses.”

  Now that the moment had come, Cail felt incredibly nervous. Elena stood up and slowly, to the audience’s applause, took to the stage and thanked the presenter.

  “We’ve been lucky enough to see a lot of McLean creations. I must say, however, that Hélène is one of my favorites. Its perfume is without doubt one of its strengths. Fruity, intense, drifting along on spicy notes. An excellent contrast. Each bunch consists of a dozen chalice-shaped buds, opening out into a remarkable bouquet. And the color, that deep red with a heart of gold, deserves a mention for its purity, its intensity. Yes, this is undoubtedly one of the most important roses of the season.”

  Elena had listened patiently and had formed an idea of what the rose might be like.

  “Could I see it?”

  Her question surprised the presenter, who recovered immediately. After signaling to a colleague, he gave her a broad grin. “But of course.”

  Cail had reached the door when he realized what was happening. Lowering his head, he quickly regained his seat. He wanted to see her; he wanted to remember the look on her face forever. And he’d go and talk to her tomorrow, for he couldn’t bear for things between them to end like that.

  Life was funny. He’d known Juliette forever—they’d grown up together and it felt natural to think about starting a family with her. Then there was the accident. And all he could do was piece together what was left of his own existence. A few seconds, and that dream of the future was all over.

  With Elena, though, he’d chosen her, desired her, wanted her more than anything. He’d carefully planned out every little detail of their relationship, so that nothing could go wrong. And she had proven it was all just an illusion. He had no power to decide anything; all he could do was stand and watch. Just like he had done in the past.

  This profound sense of powerlessness was something Cail couldn’t come to terms with. It was as if his whole life and their relationship had been one
big house of cards, a pile of leaves ready to fly away in the first gust of wind.

  Now Elena was saying thank you; she was hugging the plaque she’d just been given close to her chest and smiling at the audience.

  Then their eyes met. Without shifting her gaze, she walked down the stairs toward him.

  Come to me, Cail willed silently.

  Suddenly, Elena put a hand on her stomach and stopped. She took a deep breath, then exhaled—but the sensation that gripped her showed no sign of easing; in fact, it got stronger. There was a sharp pain in her stomach and she felt something happen.

  My waters broke, she thought, incredulous.

  “Cail!” she screamed with all the breath she could muster. Cail felt the blood run cold in his veins. He pushed his way through the crowd, to Elena. He only needed to look at her to realize it was time.

  “Don’t worry, my love. Everything’s OK. It’s all going to be fine.”

  “No, it’s not fine. You left, and the baby has decided to come now. Right now. I haven’t even got my bag with me. The doctor told me to take it to the hospital with me. Why wouldn’t you listen? You promised me, and I believed you. I found Beatrice’s formula. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you, but you weren’t there.”

  Cail took her face in his hands. “Look at me, Elena. Listen to me. I’m going to take you to the hospital now. I’ll go in with you. I’ll be there with you.”

  “Don’t leave me. Don’t you ever do that again.” It was just a whisper, but Cail heard it loud and clear, and it went straight to his heart. He didn’t reply, but he did kiss her. Right there, in front of everyone. Then he took her in his arms.

  “I’ve got the car outside. Take my mobile out of my pocket,” he ordered his sister Sophie who, intrigued by all the commotion, had made her way through the group of people surrounding them.

  “Elena, sweetheart, are you all right?” she asked, getting closer.

  “She’s gone into labor. Sophie, call the hospital, the number’s saved. Tell them we’re on our way,” Cail said.

  Elena was too frightened to object, or do anything other than cling to Cail. But once they were in the car, while he was driving to the hospital, the words she’d imagined saying came out of their own accord.

  “Why didn’t you answer the telephone? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

  “There was nothing to say, Elena. It was my fault. I just misunderstood. I’ve already told you.” This wasn’t the time to straighten things out. Climbing through the gears, Cail switched lanes.

  “You told me you would love me, regardless. That it didn’t matter what I did, or how I acted. You promised me and I trusted you. You deceived me, Caillen. You lied to me!”

  “Later, we’ll talk about it later. Try to stay calm now.”

  Elena wanted to respond, she needed to, but she couldn’t. A pain had gripped her and made it hard to breathe. Cail put the accelerator to the floor. And then there was no time for anything else.

  The gynecologist didn’t want to let Cail into the delivery room, but eventually she relented. He stayed with Elena the whole time, holding her hand, even when the labor became complicated. The only time he wasn’t with her was while they carried out an emergency cesarean. But he stayed glued to the window of the operating theater, just a few meters away from her.

  Nothing and no one could have kept him from Elena. Not while he was still breathing or conscious, despite the bright dots that swirled in front of his eyes on a few occasions.

  “It’s all going to be fine,” he kept saying out loud.

  When the first cry pierced through the silence, Cail’s heart stopped.

  “It’s a girl! Welcome to the world, little one,” the gynecologist said, holding her up and handing her to the nurse, who quickly wrapped her in a cloth.

  Cail was desperate to get back into the room. A nurse opened the door and helped him put on a mask and gown. Then she let him go in, and Cail gently took Elena’s hand. Groggy from the anesthetic, she’d lost consciousness for a moment. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the bundle wriggling in the doctor’s arms, on the activities of the nurse and pediatrician.

  “What’s happening?” His voice came out choked. Elena wouldn’t survive if anything happened to her baby.

  “Nothing, don’t worry. We’re just sucking out the liquid this little lady swallowed and then you can see your daughter. I have to tell you, she’s a cutie,” the pediatrician said, setting the baby down on the weighing scales. Her cries and her movements grew stronger.

  Cail craned his neck and caught sight of a little fist, angrily punching the air.

  A girl. Elena had a girl. The emotion suddenly burned his throat and clouded his eyes.

  “There we go, she’s nearly ready,” the nurse went on.

  But he couldn’t see anything. Then they put her in his arms. It was very difficult to hold her without letting go of Elena’s hand, but Caillen McLean was a man who knew how to improvise: he found a way to do both.

  “She’s tiny. My God, she’s so tiny,” he said, terrified. “Are you sure she’s all right?”

  “Don’t worry, your baby is perfectly healthy. Seven pounds and completely normal.”

  But Cail had stopped listening. Now he was looking at the child, who was staring right back at him. She’d stopped crying but she was still waving her little hands around. One caught his gown; the tiny fingers instinctively closed around the material and held on tight. Elena did the same thing. The block of ice lodged in him for so long melted away in a sudden burst of warmth.

  “Hello, my darling,” he smiled tenderly. Slowly and very carefully, he rested his lips on the baby’s tiny head, still holding her tight. “You’re beautiful; you’re just like your mommy.”

  Elena had always dreaded this moment; she’d been waiting for it with trepidation. But when she looked at Cail, she realized she’d been a fool not to trust her own heart. He carried on talking to the baby, smiling at her, and wouldn’t let her go. He would never let her go.

  “Is she OK?” she murmured.

  Cail turned and smiled at her, then he leaned down and kissed her gently. “She’s gorgeous,” he whispered. Elena noticed the salty taste of tears on his lips and smiled back. Then she gazed at her daughter. The little girl looked sullen, as though she were frowning, and was red, wrinkled and completely bald—but Cail thought she was beautiful. Now Elena knew he was the right man.

  “Do you want to give her to me?” She needed to touch her, to smell her. Her daughter. Her little girl.

  Cail held the baby up to Elena’s face.

  “Hello, little one,” she said. Softly, she stroked her nose, traced the outline of her profile, the contours of her tiny face.

  “She hasn’t got a single hair,” she murmured.

  “Well, it’ll grow,” Cail replied. “She hasn’t got any eyebrows either. Isn’t she perfect?”

  By way of a response, the baby yawned and closed her eyes.

  Elena kissed her, held her close to her chest and was overcome by a joy she’d never felt before. As she cradled her, the thought that she had her daughter in her arms pushed its way through the tangled knot of emotions that was her soul, until everything else disappeared. Until there was only herself and her baby—the child’s weight, her warm breath, the soft, delicate perfume rising from her skin. And she knew that the moment marked a clear boundary between what she, Elena Rossini, had been before, and what she had now become.

  • • •

  Cail refused to leave Elena except when the doctors came to examine her; when they had finished, he went straight back to her side. And although he made an exception at night, in the daytime nothing could keep him away.

  Then he started to act strangely, standing over the crib and casting silent glances at Elena.

  “I need to tell you something,” he blurted out finally.
r />   “Would you mind telling me over here, sitting next to me?”

  But he didn’t move from the crib.

  “OK,” Elena said. “Pick her up, but she’ll get used to it, and then you’ll always have to do it, even when she gets bigger and weighs a ton.” Cail beamed happily at the thought. Then, very carefully, he picked up the baby and settled her in his arms before going to sit down next to Elena.

  “Were you being serious before?” he wanted to know.

  “Before when?” Elena replied, confused.

  He sighed. “About me picking her up.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” she asked, perplexed.

  He didn’t reply, but looked down, focusing on the little girl.

  “Look, Cail, my brain cells are shrinking. Don’t worry, they’ll go back to normal as soon as I stop breastfeeding. Apparently it’s nature’s way of stopping new mothers from worrying about too many things at once. The point is, I haven’t got the slightest chance of understanding what you’re saying unless you spell it out loud and clear.”

  Cail took a deep breath, then said in a rush: “I signed the papers. You know, the ones for the father.”

  “You . . . what?” Elena was speechless.

  “Everyone here thinks I’m the father—Dr. Rochelle thought so, too. It’s even written in your notes,” Cail hurriedly explained.

  Elena took time to think it through. Then she looked at Cail and asked, “Is that why you did it? Because everyone thinks she’s your child?” The question was clear and direct.

  “No, it wasn’t because of that. I . . . I don’t know how to explain it, Elena. There are lots of things we need to talk about. There are things you don’t know. It’s all very complicated. But you see, I love you . . . I love you,” he said softly.

  Elena took a moment to digest what he’d just said. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to hug him. Instead she asked another question. “So, is that why you want to say she’s yours, because you love me?”

  “No,” Cail said. “It’s not that. I just feel that she’s mine. She’s the child of my love for you.” He paused. “That’s why I wrote my name as her father on those forms.”