Julie's Butterfly

by Greta Milán

  She withdrew to go to the bathroom. On her way back, her sister put her arm around Julie’s shoulders.

  “Happy?” asked Jo with a smile.

  Before Julie could think of how to answer, their mother approached.

  “Joanna, go get Luke a jacket. It’s cool out here,” she said in a manner that brooked no argument.

  Jo looked at Julie apologetically and left.

  “Now then,” began her mother imperiously.

  “What?” asked Julie. “Your daughter has a date, just as you wanted.” She looked longingly in Bastian’s direction. She hated it when her mother assailed her like this.

  “At least he’s personable,” observed Louisa. “What does he do for a living?”

  “He’s a photographer,” said Julie.

  “An artist?”

  “Yes. And a talented one too. You’re already familiar with his work. He took the photos for your catalogue.”

  Louisa narrowed her eyes in displeasure. “Understood.”

  After the night before, Julie had not intended to drink anything today, but she found herself reconsidering. When a waiter passed with a tray, she took a glass of white wine with a grateful smile and took a generous sip.

  “And are his accessories an expression of artistic eccentricity?” pressed Louisa.

  “No.” They’re an expression of constant insecurity was what went through Julie’s mind, but as she had no intention of explaining the significance of Bastian’s gloves to her mother, she remained stubbornly silent.

  “How serious is this?” asked Louisa, regarding her daughter coolly.

  Julie smiled dreamily. “I think we’ll be sending out the wedding invitations some time next week.”

  “Once again, your sense of humor leaves a great deal to be desired,” observed Louisa. That was the problem with mothers; it was impossible to shock them.

  To Julie’s enormous relief, Jo’s return put a stop to the interrogation. She was panting, suggesting that she had hurried so as not to leave Julie alone for too long.

  “Luke’s in the process of trying to talk his grandfather, the mayor, and a few other guests into a game of table tennis,” she announced. “The version where you race each other around the table. What’s it called?” she added in a delighted tone that caused small red patches to appear on Louisa’s neck.

  Julie pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing.

  “Excuse me,” said Louisa in a choked voice, and she hurried off to stop her husband.

  As they watched their mother go, Jo raised her wineglass. “No party without pimples,” she remarked.

  Julie clinked glasses with her and grinned. “No birthday bash without a blemish.”

  They both giggled. Once they had calmed down, Jo looked at her with that familiar big-sister concern. “So? How bad was it?”

  Julie shrugged. “You know her. She can’t just be happy for me.”

  “She only wants the best for you, you know,” said Jo, defending their mother gently.

  Julie snorted and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not even the best would be good enough for her.” She looked at Jo indignantly. “You should have seen her face when I told her Bastian was her photographer.”

  Jo seemed to think about it. “If I know Mom, she’s worried that another artist is going to make your life even more unsettled. You know what she thinks of Isabelle’s work.”

  “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Both Isabelle and Bastian are perfectly capable of earning a living. Which is more than I can say.”

  Jo sighed. “That’s not likely to change as long as you continue to set your sights so low,” she remarked.

  Julie rolled her eyes. “Don’t you start. Isabelle’s already given me an earful about it. She brought me a pile of brochures from the university yesterday.”

  “Have you looked at them?”

  “I haven’t had time yet.” Which was of course a lie. Time had not been the problem, but she had had more important things to do.

  “If you need any help, let me know. Just don’t put it off for too long.” She glanced at her husband and Bastian, who were still talking. “They seem to be getting along nicely,” she remarked.

  Julie could tell from Bastian’s reserved smile that he had closed off his emotions completely. He was so aloof that Julie could not even guess whether he was comfortable among these people. With his upright bearing and stony expression, he radiated precisely that sense of self-assurance that was customary in these circles, which was probably the aspect of him that appealed to her mother.

  Jo, however, seemed to have no doubt about how he was bearing up. “Come on. Let’s go and keep them company,” she decided, heading toward them and dragging her sister with her.

  Julie looked at Bastian anxiously. He stretched out his arm and gave her a calming smile. She nestled into his shoulder immediately.

  At dusk, torches were lit, bathing the garden in a warm light. Together with the strings of fairy lights around the pavilion, they created a perfect, sparkling atmosphere. A buffet with the appetizing scent of Oriental spices had been set out in the pavilion, allowing the guests to help themselves when they liked. The soft classical music playing in the background blended with the laughter of the guests.

  Julie had to grant her mother one thing: she knew how to throw a party. Over the course of the evening, Julie relaxed visibly and actually began to enjoy herself with Bastian by her side. Several guests came over to chat with them, though Julie was too preoccupied with responding to the promise in Bastian’s glances to pay much attention to the guests. She could hardly wait to be alone with him again. Though he never once touched her, it was hard for her to resist dragging him over to a quiet corner behind the pavilion when he looked at her that way.

  Noticing her growing desire, he leaned over and whispered in her ear what he planned to do to her as soon as they were back home. If that was intended to calm her, he was mistaken; it only aroused her more. She licked her dry lips and excused herself to go and get a drink. Bastian watched her go with a look of amusement.

  She was unsteady on her legs as she headed for the bar. Since there was no sign of her mother, she assumed she was safe and turned to the bartender.

  “Could you mix me a nonalcoholic cocktail?”

  “Of course, madam,” said the bartender. He dried his hands on a white cloth and looked at her affably. “What would you like?”

  “Can you recommend something?”

  “Have you any preference?” he asked. “Fruity or creamy? Bitter or sweet?”

  “I think the lady would prefer something fruity,” said an unfamiliar, velvet-soft voice behind her.

  Julie turned in surprise and found herself looking into the shining blue eyes of Vincent de Rossi. His bronze-colored hair fell casually over his brow, framing his distinctive features. He was wearing an expensive designer suit, which covered him like a second skin, emphasizing his perfect build.

  “Try a sweet angel,” he suggested with a smile. “That should suit you.”

  Julie turned to the bartender. “What’s in it?”

  “Pineapple juice, cranberry juice, grenadine, orange juice, and lemon juice,” he said.

  “Sounds good,” said Julie. “I’ll try that.” She turned to Vincent and extended her hand. “Julietta Hoffmann,” she said, though she knew an introduction was superfluous—the man had been sitting at her mother’s table after all. Of course he knew who she was.

  “Vincent de Rossi,” he said, smiling to reveal a row of perfect white teeth. Jo was right: he was quite handsome. And he seemed nice enough.

  “I can’t wait to taste what you’ve chosen for me,” Julie said.

  Vincent grinned, which made him look boyish and easygoing.

  “You have no idea how much I’m hoping I made the right decisi
on,” he joked. “But if you don’t like it, my excuse is that the name suits you perfectly.”

  “Good ploy,” she remarked.

  He leaned toward her. “But it hasn’t been perfected yet.”

  In the background, she heard the clinking of ice cubes in the cocktail mixer. There was an uncomfortable pause as Vincent looked at her uncertainly.

  “I’m with someone,” Julie hurried to explain.

  “I know,” said Vincent with a look of sincere regret in his eyes. “Your mother was kind enough to keep her invitation open after you told her at short notice that you had another escort.”

  Julie swallowed. “She shouldn’t have done that,” she replied awkwardly. “I mean, invited you before I’d told her one way or the other.”

  “At least I’ve met you now,” he replied with an easy smile. “Your father talks about you a lot.”

  Julie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

  “Of course,” he said, clearly confused by her astonishment.

  “A sweet angel for you, ma’am,” broke in the bartender, presenting her with the cocktail adorned with cherries and a slice of orange.

  “Thank you very much.” Julie took the glass and tried it. “Lovely,” she said.

  Vincent passed his hand over his brow in a gesture of relief.

  Julie laughed. “So enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  “You too.” He stepped aside to let her pass.

  As she turned, she saw the look Bastian was giving her through the crowd. She saw that the lines around his mouth had hardened as he listened, head inclined, to someone Julie could not see. She stepped to one side and flinched when she saw her mother standing beside him. She hurried across the lawn, but her mother had already turned to some other people by the time she got to him.

  Julie reached for his hand. “Everything OK?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Yes,” he said stiffly. “Absolutely fine.”

  Julie was pleased when Jo and Maximilian gathered up Luke and got ready to leave a short while later. She seized the opportunity to make her own inconspicuous exit with Bastian.

  On the way back to her apartment, Bastian was enveloped in a pensive silence. She hoped he would explain what was bothering him without her having to ask, but unfortunately, she hoped in vain.

  He parked the car outside her front door, got out, and held the door open for her. But instead of following, he stayed where he was on the sidewalk.

  “Aren’t you coming up with me?” she asked.

  “I’m going home,” he said.

  Julie folded her arms and looked him in the eye. “Are you always going to just walk away whenever there’s a problem?”

  “I’m not walking. I’m driving.”

  “Even better. You can make a quicker getaway. What on earth is the matter?”

  “I’ve already told you that this whole relationship business is new territory for me,” he said brusquely.

  “I know. You said it less than twenty-four hours ago. And if I remember correctly, you also assured me at the time that you wanted to learn to trust me.” She sounded more relaxed than she felt.

  A muscle twitched beneath Bastian’s eye. “I’m afraid it won’t just happen overnight. Especially not if you keep being approached by other men.”

  It finally dawned on her what he was so upset about. “Vincent de Rossi was a guest of my parents. I had to show him a degree of courtesy when he started up a conversation with me.”

  “You seem to be forgetting that he was originally supposed to be your escort.”

  “What has my mother been telling you?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head a little as if to drive away his dark thoughts.

  “I doubt that,” said Julie. She had a good idea what her mother was capable of.

  He shrouded himself in silence, staring stubbornly over her shoulder at the dark, empty street beyond.

  She knew how to deal with stubbornness—she had grown up with Isabelle after all. “Bastian?” she said sharply.

  A brief look of exhaustion crossed his face. “In short, she made it clear to me what an excellent match he is for you and what a wonderful couple you would make.”

  Julie considered the length of the prison sentence she would get for murder. A plea of temporary insanity was of course an option. She would have to check out her dusty copy of the criminal code as a precaution before she next visited her mother.

  “Of course, she only wants what’s best for you.” Bastian’s voice was flat, but Julie couldn’t fail to notice his meaningful expression as he defended her mother.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That mothers sometimes know what’s best for their daughters.”

  Julie took a deep breath before replying. “First of all, I’m not interested in Vincent de Rossi.” He made to interrupt, but she silenced him peremptorily by raising her hand. “Second, your jealousy is completely unfounded. As I’ve already said, I don’t want anyone but you. Will you just get that into your thick skull and save us a whole lot of trouble in the future?” Julie saw with relief that his expression was losing some of its coldness. She moved toward him. “And third, I’m not going to be held responsible for my mother’s actions. I’m the one who decides what’s good for me and what isn’t.”

  Bastian swallowed hard. His chin still jutted out defiantly, a sign that he had still not quite gotten rid of all his doubts. “A life with Vincent de Rossi would certainly be less stressful.”

  “I’m sure it would,” she agreed, then took one last step up to him and kissed him. Visibly bewildered, he returned her kiss. Julie knew by now the small gestures that were needed to dispel his objections. She pressed herself tightly against his body and ran her fingers through his dark hair. As she felt his resistance fading, she moved away abruptly. “But how much fun would that be?” she asked breathlessly and drew him close, just as she’d been wanting to do all evening.

  CHAPTER 26

  With Julie at his side, Bastian could look forward to summer for the first time in his life.

  There were days when they only left the apartment because Julie refused point-blank to order takeout every day. She loved going to the market and dragged him there at every opportunity to stock up on fresh vegetables. Bastian wasn’t crazy about the crowds—weaving his way among strangers made his nerves stand on end. Over the years, he had come to avoid physical proximity to strangers since a careless movement could cause him injury. But as he didn’t want to spoil the fun, he overcame his reservations and went with her. She seemed to notice his unease, but rather than comment on it, she simply positioned herself protectively in front of him and led him through the crowd.

  He liked holding hands with her, the feeling of belonging that it represented. He did, however, continue to keep an eye out for any young men who looked at her appreciatively; it happened far too often for his liking. Every time he noticed it, the alpha male in him surfaced, and he narrowed his eyes threateningly behind her back, which usually had the desired effect on the admirer. At first, he found it hard to keep his feelings in check, and it was some time before he stopped getting agitated every time a young man stared at her with interest.

  He preferred to spend their time together out in the countryside. Sometimes she came with him when he was taking photos for nature conservation organizations in the surrounding area. It was hard for him to concentrate on his work when she danced ecstatically through the fresh grass and laughed in the sunshine, but the looks she gave him more than compensated for it.

  He seduced her at every opportunity. And there were plenty of opportunities. Now that he had overcome his shyness, there was no longer any reason to stick to the nighttime hours, and he made the most of it. Julie didn’t seem to mind any more than she minded his physical appearance. There was more concern than repulsion in her eyes when he woun
ded himself, which happened often since his thoughts were all over the place.

  He was embarrassed when he dripped blood on her floor, but she just led him to the bathroom and held a pack of astronaut bandages under his nose. A few weeks before, he would never have imagined that his reaction to such a gesture would be an amused laugh. But this woman made him behave in the strangest ways.

  While Julie was at work at the café, Bastian worked on his own assignments or spent time with Felix. He was glad that the insurance company had agreed to pay for a care worker, though Felix was disappointed that Natalia was no Russian beauty, but rather a solicitous woman in her midforties. Natalia was just the help that Elena and Felix so desperately needed. She helped Elena with the housework, cooked, and helped Felix change his bandages. Their relief was palpable. Elena used her new free time to fulfill her lifelong dream of joining an amateur choir. Although Felix cursed during her singing exercises, Bastian could see how pleased he was for his sister.

  He and Julie often visited Felix together. Bastian frequently stayed in the background and simply enjoyed watching his friend, who adored her. A certain bond had developed between them. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but sometimes they both gave him the same concerned look. Bastian tried not to let it unnerve him, especially given that their closeness bothered him far less than the influence Julie’s friend Isabelle had on her.

  Bastian’s first impression at the opening had been that Isabelle was simply loud and overbearing. He only noticed how charming she could be when she had called him from the student party. Bastian had no great interest in getting to know her better—what he had seen of her to date was quite enough—but Isabelle had asked Julie several times to arrange for them all to get together, and he had finally relented to please Julie. Which was how he found himself one evening at a trendy jazz bar where a young man was juggling vinyl to create an unconventional blend of smooth jazz and driving beats in a modern-looking room with a futuristic white bar. A crowd of young people—all smug smiles, presumptuous looks, and narcissistic preoccupations with their own images—had congregated around it.