Forevermore

by Cristiane Serruya

  She certainly had not become a doctor for money, as many others she knew had. Besides, apart from her own savings, the money her mother had left her, and her salary as a well-paid physician, she was also an heiress to a great fortune. If she was there being paid to take care of Olivia, it was because she chose to be, and of course doctors got paid, whether they needed the money or not.

  She was there because of Olivia, a little girl who deserved all the care and love she could have.

  She was there because of Aleksander, a wounded man who deserved all the peace and happiness he could have.

  She was there because of Emma, her daughter, who hadn’t had a chance.

  She was there because of herself.

  And no pompous woman—no matter who she was—was going to sully what she was doing.

  Before Aleksander could say anything, Ava sprang up from her place beside Olivia. Probably ready to give my mother a piece of her mind.

  Yet, he was surprised when Ava said, not without a touch of sarcasm, “If you’ll excuse me, I will see if Matthias needs help. Since I’m being paid. Although it does seem a contradiction that just moments ago you were chastising me for not tending to my patient during my off-hours and during my sleep, and yet now you think I should be away from my patient, and engaged in housekeeping. How strange.”

  When she turned, she caught Aleksander smiling at her light rebuke at his mother. His smiles were like flashes of lightning which come at night, swift and fleeting, lighting up the entire landscape for a few moments before vanishing once again. Smiles like this can leave heaps of broken hearts behind.

  To Olivia, she said in a softer tone, “I’ll see you a little later, Pixie.”

  Olivia, not liking the way things were heading, turned to her father. “Daddy, isn’t Ava going to eat with us?”

  “Yes, of course,” Aleksander said, and reached for Ava to stop her from exiting the room. “Mother, Ava and Sydney take their meals with us, unless they are occupied with something else.”

  “Sydney is resting,” said Ava. “She stayed up all night and all morning, too.”

  Meredith let out a small tongue-click of annoyance.

  Before Meredith could begin another tirade, Lydia stood up trying to defuse the tension. “Why don’t we move to the dining room already? Come on, Olivia. Matthias surely has everything ready by now.”

  Graham stood too. “Good idea. I’m hungry.”

  Aleksander was very aware of the way Meredith’s eyes were shooting daggers onto Ava’s rigid back as they made their way to the dining room. At the same time, his mind churned with how to make his mother stop her rudeness, he knew Meredith was going to bite until she drew blood.

  He looked at Ava and felt as if he were falling. As if he had misstepped somehow, and now, he couldn’t quite set things right again. He wanted to soothe the clench of her fists and the tension of her shoulders. She was hurt, and a large part of that had been his fault.

  He wanted to draw her aside and explain his mother’s rudeness—not as an excuse, but he was certain that Ava, with her big heart, would be more understanding towards Meredith once she knew her past better.

  He wanted to take his mother aside and tell her to respect the woman who was giving them months of her life to bring them happiness.

  He wanted to send Meredith—and Graham and Lydia—back to New York and take Ava in his arms and make the hurt and sadness disappear.

  He wanted her. And he wanted more than a casual fling. Period.

  Aleksander shook his head and looked at his mother.

  It had been only a moment his thoughts had wandered but Meredith was looking at him, watching him as he watched Ava’s rigid posture.

  His mother’s lips were set in a thin line, as if she knew what Aleksander was only just coming to realize: he was falling. Harder and faster than he’d anticipated.

  Aleksander stared at her one moment longer. It took that single moment to crystallize what was important: not an attempt to bludgeon some kind of apology from his scarecrow of a mother, but to protect Ava.

  He just didn’t know how.

  As Olivia took her place between her grandmothers, Aleksander motioned for Ava to sit between him and Graham.

  Kira came around with fresh-baked rolls for them, placing one neatly on every bread dish, and Matthias followed with a tureen of hearty tomato soup.

  “Thank you,” Ava said, as Matthias spooned the soup into her bowl.

  He could see she was wary and wound up, like some clockwork toy twisted to the maximum breaking point.

  She had just picked up her spoon when a very large, warm hand found its way onto her knee.

  Ava tensed. Like she really needed him to make a move on her when Meredith was silently planning her murder from across the table.

  “Relax,” he urged softly, kneading her thigh muscle through her thin wool dress. “Enjoy the meal.”

  “Is that an order, Mr. Maximilian?” she ground out angrily through a smile.

  “You’re upset,” he answered seriously.

  No kidding.

  His expression somber, he held her gaze—her magnificent eyes flashed with stubborn independence and sparkling anger—and squeezed her thigh before taking his hand away. “Try to enjoy lunch.” And then, in a quieter voice, he said, “They’ll be gone soon.”

  Her eyes dropped to her soup and she stared at the steamy red liquid, not sure if she should regret her angry response, knowing it was unprofessional and it made things worse for Aleksander, but also knowing she had a right to her dignity.

  Graham, Lydia, and Olivia supplied the conversation for the rest of the meal, with Meredith and Aleksander interjecting a few comments, but Ava stayed silent.

  Any time her gaze was averted, he watched her.

  When her lids were down he could see every single lash as it reached out and curved upright at the ends. They were full and lush, thicker than any other he’d ever seen.

  He examined the way her fingers embraced the stem of the glass. She took a drink which left her lips moistened and he couldn’t help but have an immediate erotic thought as he looked at them.

  Take your mind out of the gutter. He shook his head but his eyes returned to her.

  She was beautiful every day without makeup but when she dressed herself up—even if it was just a bit—she looked too good to be true.

  Then Aleksander noticed Olivia, who at first was obviously enjoying the fact that he and Ava were seated side by side, now watched them intently as she blindly took a bite of her chicken breast, afraid to look down at her plate for fear of missing a juicy detail of what was happening.

  “Hey, Olivia. How about we play Where Are You Going?” Lydia asked, breaking the awkward silence which had descended over the room.

  Aleksander smiled gratefully at his mother-in-law. They loved to play that game and it was good to not only distract Olivia from the tension in the air, but also to keep her mind active. “I go first.”

  “Where are you going?” Ava asked Lydia, speaking for the first time. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “A variation on A is for Apple,” Aleksander said. “I’m going to Argentina, with an albatross, and it’s carrying artichokes.”

  “I’ll go second,” said Lydia. “I am going to Brazil, with baboons, carrying bananas.”

  “Me!” Olivia bit her lip, thinking hard for a moment, and then said, “I’m going to Canada. With camels, carrying coconuts. Now you, Ava.”

  “I’m going to Denmark…with dolphins.” Ava ran her fingers through her loose hair absentmindedly. “And they are carrying…”

  She had no idea how sexy she looked as she did it. And because her hair reminded him of the sun and summer, Aleksander blurted out, “Carrying daffodils.”

  “You can’t help her, Daddy,” Olivia said with a pout.

  I can’t help myself. He’d never been more obsessed in his life. Her spirit attracted him like a moth to a flame.

  He didn’t feel like a powerful b
usinessman when he was with her. He didn’t feel like such a father losing a daughter, or a widower, or even a moth caught by a flame. It was the first time in ages he felt like a man.

  Just a man.

  Chapter 23

  Ava, Aleksander, Olivia, and Lydia were sitting in the living room when Meredith came down from her bedroom with a small photo album, which she gave to Olivia. “Look what I found.”

  Curious, Ava scooted closer to Olivia to look at the pictures as the girl leafed through the album. In one, two couples smiled at the camera, their names written below the photo: Aleksander and Rachel on the left, and Thaddeus with a teen girl named Melissa on the right. Aleksander and Thaddeus looked like they were in high school, or possibly college, while Rachel and Melissa looked much younger. The next picture was Rachel in a graduation gown with Aleksander beside her. His arm was wrapped around her and a big, happy smile was on his lips. And so it went.

  Ava saw how Aleksander’s eyes became watery as he looked at the pictures of his deceased wife. Not a lot, but definitely some.

  Damaged in her past by betrayal, Ava felt foolish for even entertaining the possibility that there might, maybe, some day be something between them deeper than a physical attraction. It has nothing to do with love. It’s all a plot to get me in his bed. It’s all about sex and possession.

  But then as Meredith and Lydia commented on how Aleksander and Rachel had been a perfect pair since they were kids, an odd mix of guilt and jealousy warred within Ava.

  It would be strange if he didn’t miss her. “Beautiful family,” she said to Lydia.

  “She moved in with him even before they married,” said Lydia. “After she was gone the house never felt the same. And now…”

  Meredith patted Lydia’s hand. “Rachel will always be with us.”

  Aleksander took the album from Olivia’s hands when she had seen the last photo and set it on the shelf which surrounded the hearth. He turned his gaze to the fire and grew quiet, suddenly brooding. He could always count on his mother to ruin whatever good feeling was around her.

  In the hearth a log popped and embers exploded into the grate filling in the silence which had enveloped the adults in the room.

  “What about your wedding album?” Meredith interjected, glancing at Ava. “It was a perfect day. I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful wedding or a more striking couple.”

  “Mother, I—”

  “Oh, yes,” Olivia looked at her father. “Do you have it? I don’t think I’ve seen it this time.”

  Aleksander sighed. “It’s upstairs somewhere.”

  After a while Aleksander disappeared up the staircase, Olivia began to get restless, so Ava decided to go upstairs to see what was taking him so long. She was not eager to hear more reminiscences of how Rachel and Aleksander were a perfect pair and how much they loved each other, but a masochistic part of her itched with curiosity about their wedding.

  When Ava reached the second floor landing, she heard a noise in her bedroom and peeked inside.

  She blinked, confused, seeing Aleksander inside, paging through one of the books she kept on her desk with the rest of her medical books.

  Surely this was his house, but that didn’t mean he could walk in anytime he felt like.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, walking in.

  Without putting the book down, he looked over his shoulder and said, “I’m looking for the photo album. It should be here somewhere.”

  “That is not an album, it’s a book. And it’s mine.” She stretched out her hand for him to hand it over, but he didn’t. “Alek—”

  Turning his eyes back to the cover, he read aloud, “Les Misérables.” He raised an eyebrow. “In French?”

  “It was written in French,” Ava muttered, pulling it from his hand. “So I read it in French.”

  Annoyed, she went to her antique Louis Vuitton library trunk and opened its lid, preparing to shelf the book inside and out of his reach.

  “Good heavens, did you bring them all, all the way from Manhattan?” Aleksander stepped closer and stopped her from closing it. “Ibsen…Cervantes…Goethe! When do you have time in this crazy, twenty-four-hour world you live in to read this stuff?”

  “I make time,” Ava snapped, as her eyes sparked. “My own time. Just because you’re my employer doesn’t mean you can barge in here, poke through my things and demand an accounting of my time.”

  “Hold on.” Aleksander put his palms up, halting her rushing stream of words. “I’m sorry if my mother was rude. But I wasn’t demanding an account of your time, I was simply astonished that you could find enough of it to do this type of reading. And since I am an avid reader myself, it would be remarkably foolish of me to criticize the amount of time you spend reading. Secondly,” he said, taking a step toward her—and though Ava stiffened in anticipation, he did not touch her. “I apologize for poking through your things, as you put it. I was just curious about what you were reading. As for barging into your room, I can only plead guilty. I came in here to get the photo album.” He motioned to a shelf on the farthest wall. “If you choose to prosecute, I can recommend a couple of lousy attorneys who overcharge.”

  His last comment forced a smile onto Ava’s reluctant lips. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  With more care than she had originally intended, Ava closed the lid of the trunk.

  When she straightened, he shifted so that his body just brushed hers. It was a subtle move, a subtle suggestion.

  She felt the trickle of excitement run down her spine, the warmth of awareness bloom in her stomach. Tilting her head to meet his eyes, she saw the desire and need—and the patience—a combination that sent her pulse skipping.

  She had only to say yes, she knew, and they would forget all about his guests downstairs. And for one moment, one very long, very quiet moment, she wished it could be that simple. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes reflected curiosity. “Whatever for?”

  “For snapping at you. I thought you were criticizing me.” She lifted her shoulders, then let them fall. “Fiction is a way to escape reality and to assess other things about myself. It’s as necessary to me as the air that I breathe.” And here I go, telling him more than I should.

  Several seconds passed before he spoke, “Unnecessary apology accepted, if you answer one question.”

  Mystified, Ava frowned at him. “What question?”

  “Is the Cervantes in Spanish?”

  Ava laughed. “Yes, it is.”

  Aleksander smiled, enjoying the sound of her laughter and how her eyes brightened. And the words escaped, unbound, “Did you know that though you’re lovely in any case, when you laugh you are even lovelier?”

  Her initial reaction was to say, Don’t be silly. But his low, smooth voice slid over her like warm velvet. Something soft and hot curled low in her belly. Not wanting to ruin such a moment, she just said, “Really?”

  “Really. When you smile it takes up half your face.”

  “That sounds horrible,” she exclaimed.

  He had to fist his hand not to touch her cheek, pull her in for a kiss. “It’s enchanting.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Distorted.”

  “Desirable.”

  She grimaced, but somehow she laughed at the same time. “Clearly, you have no knowledge of the standards of female beauty.”

  “Since men view women differently from how they view themselves, let’s simply agree to disagree.”

  She found herself grinning despite herself as he left her bedroom—which she should have never left unlocked—with his wedding album in his hands.

  The man is impossible. He will drive me daft.

  He was moody, controlling, overbearing.

  Arrogant.

  Handsome.

  And he kisses like a dream. She groaned and smacked a hand to her forehead. He doesn’t kiss like a dream.

  With a sigh, she straightened her desk and went downstairs.

  Her
e he is Olivia’s father, not a dreamy kissing man with whom you can establish a relationship.

  After Olivia had looked at her parents’ wedding album, she demanded they started decorating the tree.

  After she flipped the switch and the tree was lit, the adults began to hang decorations on the branches with Olivia directing them. Every shiny red, navy, and silver glass ball, small and delicate toys, and frilly matte-gold lace ribbons had a place to go according to her.

  Ava sat beside Olivia, as the little girl gave directions, discreetly keeping an eye on how Olivia was doing to keep her from over-exerting. Despite her inevitably worsening condition, she’d had much more energy since coming home and while Ava was grateful that she could be a part of this extended home-care team, she dreaded its certain conclusion.

  “It looks all done except for the top. What do you think, Oliva?” Lydia asked.

  “I want to put the star on!” she replied.

  “Here you go!” Aleksander lifted his daughter in his arms and climbed carefully on the ladder so she could place the shining golden star on the very top branch.

  Olivia stretched out her thin arms, the shiny star wobbling to and fro, until she found the perfect position. “Done!”

  He climbed down and stepped back so Olivia could assess her job.

  “It looks beautiful,” he said to no one in particular. His words rasped painfully over the lump in his throat and he had to blink to stop the tears threatening to appear in his eyes. This would be the last time he would hold his little girl as she placed the star on top of a Christmas tree. With supreme control, he mustered a smile.

  Ava knew what he was thinking and feeling. She’d been there, lived through the same panicky fear, the same helplessness and sadness. The strength in her voice surprised her because there was a lump in her throat. “We did a great job.”

  Unaware of the sadness permeating the air, Olivia wiggled out of her father’s arms and walked to the far side of the room to take in their handiwork from a different angle.

  “Mommy always liked white lights on the tree. She said it made the tree look like it was outside and that it was snowing.”