Meghan looked at the prescription in her hands. The writing was a typical doctor’s scrawl, indecipherable to her. “I don’t think I’m ready for this,” she said. She folded the paper in half, then half again, then wrapped it like a cast around her index finger. “I don’t want to suppress it. Just the opposite, really—I feel what’s happening to me is something organic, something alive, and I want to respect it, and let it live. Cutting it off now would be like cutting down a strange tree that’s about to flower. I want to see what the flowers look like.”
“Well, it is your call,” Anne replied. “I’m still very interested in what’s happening with you, and I do want you to come back again next week. But you know my opinion.”
“When Jan told me about you, she said you were into the occult, that you studied witches.”
“I did. I do. But not because I believe in their world-view, in fact just the opposite. I study them as a rationalist, because I don’t believe the things they do, and I’m interested in what makes them believe it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic to them. In fact I envy them the certainty of belief.”
“You don’t believe them—that means you probably don’t believe me.”
“Here’s how I operate,” Anne said. “I act like I believe everyone I see, because they need that to open up to me. On a certain level, I try to stay with them—if it’s real to them, it’s real to me. I also try to think of them as a best friend would, look out for them, and offer them the best possible advice I can give. And I’ve given you my advice.”
“Okay,” Meghan said. “I think I need to go kill a bottle of Chardonnay with Jan, my other best friend. I need it. Job sucks, house sucks, divorce sucks, relationship with Betsy sucks—the only thing I look forward to is my time with Thomas,” she mused. “Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it. It’s teaching me a lot. If I take some drug to cut myself off from it, I’ll never know how it’s meant to end. I’ve got a part to play, and I want to follow it through to the bitter end.” She paused a moment. “You think I’m on the verge of doing something self-destructive, but I’d be doing it for love, and all love has an element of self-destruction, don’t you think? Giving yourself completely to another, you lose something of yourself.”
“I call love self-altering,” Anne replied. “In love we alter ourselves to please the loved one. But in your case this loved one is not physically present, yet to reach him you’re willing to offer yourself to a man you don’t even like. And that I would call self-destructive.”
“Enemies with Benefits,” Meghan muttered to herself.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. I’ll look for Thomas first. He told me he could see me in Sylvanne’s eyes, a ray of light through dark shutters. Unless I see the same glimmer in Derek’s eyes, unless I’m certain Thomas is there, and feel a connection to him, I won’t be able to go through with it.”
“You felt so guilty when Sylvanne suffered,” Anne reminded her. “What about Derek? He won’t be raped or violated as Sylvanne almost was, but in a similar way he will be used, even if he enters into it willingly.”
“Derek I don’t worry about,” Meghan said. “He’s a hedonist. On that level he’s going to love it.”
38
Derek was checking ashtrays for a cigarette butt long enough to smoke. He found one on the kitchen counter; out the window he caught a glimpse of Betsy on the steps of her deck next door. He went out to see her.
She was dressed nicely, for a party or family gathering, he thought. She’d tucked the hem of her skirt into her waistband, and was balancing on the unicycle, riding it back and forth a foot or two, but still keeping hold of the deck railing. “You’re getting it,” he said. “Next step is letting go. What’s with the duds? What’s the occasion?”
“Church.”
“Is it Sunday?”
“According to those who follow the Christian calendar, yes,” she replied, feeling very clever.
“Aha. You believe in God and all that, do you?”
“God created the world. If he didn’t, who did?”
“Well it wasn’t me, I’d have done a better job. You would’ve too. Just think what the world would be like if you could invent it from scratch.”
“There’d be no pollution, everywhere would be a park, and there’d be unicorns.”
“Perfect,” he replied. “I didn’t even know you went to church.”
“My mom says it’s important I learn the Bible so I’ll get all the referrals to it in books and art when I’m older.”
“Good thinking. Planning for tomorrow today, that’s your mother. Only problem is no one’s going to look at books and art by the time you’re twenty, it’ll all just be tweets about pop stars.”
Meghan came out. “C’mon Betsy, we’re late. We gotta go.”
“You’re late. I was ready.”
“Whatever. We are late.”
“No, not we, because you don’t even go to church.” Betsy said. She turned to Derek and added, “She just drops me at Sunday school and goes shopping.”
“Grocery shopping, not fun shopping,” Meghan clarified. “C’mon, move your butt.”
TEN MINUTES LATER DEREK was surprised to find Meghan at his door. “What’s up? What happened to shopping?” he asked.
“Shopping I can do with Betsy. This is the only hour I’ll get all day to do something for myself, so I figured I’d take a break from being Supermom. Can I come in?”
“Of course, of course.”
He led the way to his living room. Once there she didn’t sit down, so he didn’t either. She said, “I need to look into your eyes.”
He let her do it. Her gaze unsettled him. It was unwavering, piercing, probing. “Come closer,” she said. She continued to stare deeply and directly at him. They stood toe to toe, their faces mere inches apart. He had an urge to wrap his arms around her.
“Is this like a staring contest?”
“Shhh.”
After a moment Meghan said doubtfully, “I think I see him. Thomas, I know you’re in there, but it’s like you’re sitting in the back row of the theatre. I wish you’d come down front, where I can be sure it’s you.”
“Tell me—why exactly are you so in my face?” Derek asked.
“Thomas has taken your advice. He’s promised to stop talking to me when he talks to her. And he had something else to say. Before I tell you, don’t get any ideas that it’s going to happen.”
Derek lowered himself down and settled comfortably onto the couch, stretching out his jeans-clad legs. He said, “I think I like where this is going.”
“I wanted to connect with him, through Sylvanne. He wants to connect with me. Through you.”
Derek looked at her blankly for a moment, then suddenly crowed, “Jackpot!” His grin stretched nearly to his earlobes. “Thank you Thomas! Well then, what are we waiting for?” He patted the couch beside him. “Come on—let’s give his Lordship the ride of his life!”
“I told you not to get ideas.”
“Hey, it’s Tom’s idea now.”
“His idea is different than yours.”
“How so? I wasn’t there, I didn’t get to hear him declaim. Spell it out for me.”
“The difference is the difference between falling in love and, well, what you have in mind.”
“I see. He’s all about the mind, I’m all about the body. Which is perfect—if he wants you to use my body to connect with his mind, I am one hundred percent totally okay with that.”
“I knew you would be. I told my therapist you would be.”
“Oh yeah? What’s her take?”
“It turns out that even though I’m paying her, she doesn’t actually believe Thomas is real, and tried to give me drugs to stop me from dreaming. You’re about the only person who does believe me. You do believe me, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“So that’s one point in your favour.”
“I’ll try to think of some more.”
; “Believe it or not, Thomas gave me some more. He sang your praises. He’s in your head, don’t forget, so he knows all about you. He likes you—he told me to overlook your many faults and focus on your virtues. He says the only harm you do is to yourself. You’re not wicked, just weak.”
“Not wicked, just weak. That’s good—a nice epitaph. I’ll put it on my tombstone,” Derek smiled.
“Wouldn’t you like something more positive to sum up your life?”
“Thomas likes me, even if you don’t.”
“I want to like you,” she said. “I was thinking about you this morning. I was reading the paper, and there was a story about a doctor who had a tragedy a lot like yours, did you see it?”
“No.”
“He lost his wife and two sons, in a plane crash. And it changed his life—he gave up a very lucrative medical practice, and moved to Africa, and now he devotes himself to helping the poor there. So in a way, a terrible tragedy changed him, and made him a better man. More good.”
“And you’re comparing that to me?” Derek asked. “You try it sometime. See how easy it is.”
“I’m not saying that,” she protested.
He stood up from the couch. “Come here. I want to hug you.”
“Why?”
“For a million reasons. For Thomas, for me, for everything bad that’s ever happened to anyone.”
She came to him, stood before him and held out her hands. He took them and pulled her to him. Tentatively, she laid her head on his shoulder. They held each other close, feeling each other’s warmth, saying nothing for a long time. It was Derek who broke the silence. “Maybe that doctor was bad before, and suffering turned him good. I was good, and it turned me bad. Not bad really, but it made me stop caring about things like good and bad.”
She pulled back to look at his face. “You’re not all bad. You were very nice to Betsy.”
“Until I wasn’t.”
“But then you were again.”
“You’re a very peculiar woman, Meghan,” he said. “I don’t even know your last name.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s my husband’s anyway, my soon-to-be ex-husband’s. I have to figure out what to do about that.”
“Do you think we could ever have a normal conversation?” he asked. “Think we could just talk to each other, once in a while?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you. I’m not going to get together with you just to please him, but I’m open to getting together with you, if we can find a way of connecting, just we two.”
“Only it’s not just we two,” said Derek. “It’s like a ménage-a-trois where one guy promises just to watch.”
“Don’t even try to describe it,” she said. “Let’s not overthink it right now.”
“Usually men say that to women.”
“I know.”
“Or maybe it’s more like, we’ve got Thomas wooing Sylvanne, and now I need to woo you, is that it?”
“Let’s say I’m open to you,” she replied. “But you’ve got to be open to yourself, to find the best in yourself, and give it to me. That’s what I want to give someone, and that’s what I expect in return. Not all this diversion, and clutter, and jokey sarcasm, and substance abuse.”
“You don’t know what I was like before. Maybe I was like this already.”
“I don’t think you were,” she said.
He didn’t argue. He turned away and sat back down on the couch, looking slightly disoriented. “Let me look at you,” she said, lowering herself to sit beside him. He turned toward her and their eyes met, and he felt an odd tremor in his body, warm like a breeze. Her gaze seemed to pass right through him.
“You’re seeing him, aren’t you?” he said.
“I think so.”
“What would you like to tell him?”
“I want to tell him to go away. Right now I want to get to know Derek. Or I’d like to, except I have to get Betsy from Sunday school in about seven minutes.”
“That’s too bad,” he smiled. “I was going to tell you to put your feet up, make yourself a cup of tea, or roll one up and spark it, for that matter—I was going to zip upstairs and shower and shave, and come back down all smooth-faced, baby fresh, and we’d pick it up from there. I clean up real good. No harsh chemicals—Ivory soap.”
“Clean is always good.” She looked up into his broad, smiling face and, unexpectedly, felt a shock of recognition. That hint of a flinty glare in his eyes—was it Derek, or Thomas? Or was it the light of two hearts? She kissed her finger and touched it to Derek’s lips.
“I’ll see you soon,” she whispered. She glanced at her watch. “Why do I always have to be somewhere else?”
39
A thousand glittering ripples danced across the lake in the afternoon sun. Thomas, at the water’s edge, turned and tramped across the lush grass of a meadow that bordered the shore, and climbed a small hill to higher ground, where a blanket had been spread. Sylvanne sat upon it, encircled by her gown, her knees drawn up and held tightly in her arms. She watched Thomas approach with a mixture of emotions. The despondency she had felt on the night he came to her bed had seen its jagged edges softened by his actions since. He’d been as good as his word—the man had bestowed nothing but kindness upon her.
The biggest change was that he had ceased to hold her hostage, and now allowed her to move freely around and about the castle. Thus liberated, she in turn had pleased him greatly by restoring her good relations with his daughter Daphne. The girl had led her on a wide-ranging tour of her favourite hidden corners of “my palace,” as she liked to call it, and they had passed the previous two afternoons out of doors, nestled in a secretive nook along the castle’s outer wall, where they could sit upon a grassy bank and watch swans skim across the glassy surface of the moat. Thomas had visited them there on the second day, and seeing how soothed Sylvanne looked by the tranquil movement of the water, he proposed an outing for the next day to another, more spectacular waterscape. “We’ll make the journey on horses, just we two,” he’d said, which had stoked the adolescent ire of Daphne. She had beseeched her father to allow her to come along, but he would not be moved. “After your last adventure on horseback, I think it best you continue to rest. Besides, I have no milder horse than Mathilde to give you,” he’d said.
“I think you have another motive,” Daphne had responded petulantly. “You want Lady Sylvanne to yourself.”
If so, then his wish had now come true, for here they sat, alone together under a vast blue canopy of sky, with a fine view of a pretty lake and the surrounding countryside of fields and groves. “I wanted you to see this place and be dazzled by its beauty,” he said. “I can hardly believe my good fortune at possessing such a lake, set like a jewel entirely within my own lands. I used to bring my beloved wife here on a summer’s day—we both believed that Daphne was conceived on a smooth stone along the far shore, a secluded yet sun-drenched secret spot, which we christened the Altar of our Love.” He stopped abruptly, worried that perhaps he’d overstepped propriety by sharing such an intimate detail. He glanced at Sylvanne to gauge her mood, and decided that she seemed unoffended, and contented enough.
“I’m grateful to know this place,” she said. He waited for her to say more, but she sat on the warm blanket and was silent.
“What is your opinion of me?” he said suddenly.
She brought a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun’s brightness and looked at him. “I’ve let myself be brought here without a chaperone,” she said. “So I must trust you, I suppose.”
“That’s a start,” he said. “A good one.”
“You haven’t mentioned that other woman for two full days,” Sylvanne said. “Is it because she directed you not to, or has she vacated your dreams?”
“You know as well as I that she desires to be kept out of it.”
“Yet I’m curious about her,” Sylvanne replied. “If you’re to be believed, then I feel myself inhabited by a phantom.”
>
“Leaving her aside has made me appreciate your own unique virtues.”
“What care you about my attributes? It seems you already love another,” Sylvanne said mockingly.
“But she’s inside you, that’s the otherworldly truth of it. If I love her, perhaps it means I love you too.” He fell silent for a moment. “I only speak of this because you brought it up.”
“A Lady acts rightly who seeks to understand the workings of a man’s mind, especially one who appears to woo her, yet speaks so lovingly of another.”
“Yes, yes. I suppose,” he said irritably. Something was eating at him—a feeling like a loss of status, or stature—as if yielding to Meghan’s wish that he be gentle and kindly had served to make him appear weak in Sylvanne’s eyes. He was not used to being mocked and teased. He rose from the blanket and stood over her. “Don’t spoil the moment. My intentions in bringing you here were pure, and it seems they sully. Let us untether our horses and depart this place.”
“No, please,” Sylvanne responded. She too rose, and stood beside him, unnaturally close. “It truly is magical here, perhaps the loveliest place I’ve seen in my life. I’m sorry if I offended you by speaking my mind. Under this open sky I felt we were equals, in a way men and women seldom are.”
“Equals? Is that what you aspire to be?”
“It’s what I felt, for a moment, that’s all.”
Her face was a mirror reflecting the beauty that surrounded them. He felt an urge to kiss her, and pulled her to him. She didn’t resist. Her lips were soft and yielding for a moment, then suddenly she pulled herself away, for what had come unbidden to her mind was the equine face of her late husband.
“Are you testing me?” Thomas asked her. “If so, you can see there is no compulsion. No coercion. Nothing will be done without your consent.”
“You urge me to trust you, and I do,” she replied. “But if I were you, I should still be on guard, and take care when it comes to trusting me. You don’t know what thoughts and ideas still invade my mind.”
A Lady Under Siege Page 20