by K. R. Rowe
He drew her near, and ever so lightly, brushed his lips across hers. She lost herself, in the strength of his arms, and the taste of his sweet tender kiss. The staff locked the doors, and the patrons went home, but their slow dance continued, never realizing, the music had stopped long ago.
The next morning, she relaxed in the gazebo with Lydia. She kicked her feet up on a chair, and heaved a long loud sigh and Lydia laughed.
"Was I right or what?" Lydia asked.
"You were totally right."
"Now—what are you gonna do about Lucien?"
"You know," Grace said. "He’s so good to me. He’s sweet and he’s handsome—"
"He’s alright for a cheese eater," Lydia said.
"And I do love him, but …."
"But?"
"But when I close my eyes, it’s not his face that I see in my dreams," Grace said.
"You’ll have to choose."
"I know," she said. "I just want to be sure."
"Yeah, I kind of feel guilty too," Lydia said.
"Why?"
"Well, with everything Lucien has done for you," she said. "He deserves a lot more respect than what he’s been getting."
"Yes he does," Grace agreed. "Shoot, I just remembered, he’s taking me to lunch today, and I need to change."
"No doubt he wants to find out what happened last night too," Lydia said and stood to leave. "Have fun!"
"So, where are we going?" Grace asked Lucien after they pulled away from the drive.
"We're going on a picnic."
He knew it was going to be a perfect day. February had rolled in bringing unusually warm weather, and they enjoyed the breeze, as they spread their blanket in the shade on the edge of a large field.
"Smile!" Lucien said. He snapped her picture with his phone and saved it as his background. She's beautiful as usual, he thought. It was a crowded day and they relaxed for a while, and entertained themselves by watching the myriad of interesting people come and go. A tiny blonde boy stopped next to Grace, and stared at her for a minute. Without a care in the world, he smiled, and stuck his finger in his nose.
"Hi," he said, and leaned over to manhandle a kick ball that was two sizes bigger than him. He laughed and waddled away just as a fleeing dog scarfed down a chicken leg he had stolen from a couple nearby. Elderly men with their prized remote control planes buzzed over their wives as they relaxed with their books. A haggard old man, homeless and alone, trudged slowly across the field. In a brief stop, he tightened the flashlight taped to his arm, and adjusted the underwear that covered his head. He stumbled and then continued on, and made his way past, while holding a loud conversation with an unseen friend.
"Do you think he needs help?" Grace started to stand, but Lucien grasped her arm.
"No, he’ll be fine," he said. Her softhearted nature brought a smile to his face, but a guilty frown soon followed when he recalled a day—not so long ago—at the homeless shelter.
"Have you ever played touch football?" he asked, changing the subject as he pulled out a miniature ball. "There's no tackling."
"I don’t remember," she said, "but I would love to try!"
"Ok, we'll practice throwing first." He pulled her to her feet and they passed the small football awhile to warm up.
"Now," he said. "Let me explain how it works. I'll throw it to you, when you catch it, run toward that bush behind me," he said. "If I touch you before you get to it, then you’ll get a first down." He was not concerned with how far she ran. He would consider any length her first down. "You have four tries," he said. "If you fail, I get the ball, ok?"
"Ok," she said.
"Are you ready?"
"I’m ready."
He threw the ball and she caught it perfectly but she did not get far when he touched her back.
"First down!" He celebrated and did a dance of victory.
She didn’t give up and tried again. In a half squat in front of him, they stood eye to eye, and she made her move. He let her get much further this time before he caught up.
"Second down!" he yelled. "You run like a girl!"
"I am a girl!" she said and stuck out her tongue.
"You have two more tries to make a touchdown," he said with his hands on his knees waiting for her to make a move. She surprised him with a quick sprint around him. He ran after her but instead of touching her, he grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her from the ground.
"And it’s a sack!" he commentated. He tackled her to the ground and straddled her with an evil smile.
"Hey!" she complained. "You said no tackling!"
"Well, it’s completely legal."
"Are you sure?"
He grinned and started to tickle her.
"Stop!" she begged and kicked as she tried to escape.
"No," he said. "This is a legitimate penalty for not making it to the bush!" His impish smile spread as he continued his torture.
"Please, you're killing me!" She laughed, squirmed, and wiped her eyes. "Look, you're making my mascara run!"
"No matter, ma belle," he said as he brushed a twig from her hair. "You are still lovely."
Again, as he looked down into her eyes, his self-control vanished. He leaned over her, with a consuming ache, and crushed his mouth against hers. Sugar and honey, flavored her lips, and his passion raged hotter as he deepened his kiss. He cradled her head, in one shaking hand, and his other hand dented the earth. Aroused by her soft warm sigh, he wanted to bury himself in her sweetness. His tongue danced with thirst across her moist lips, and he ground himself closer but almost forgot—they were not alone.
"Damn it!" he muttered. He looked up slowly, and just as he thought, they had drawn a lot of attention.
"People are staring at us!" Grace said and she put her hands over her eyes in embarrassment.
She was so cute, he thought. He looked down at her and realized just how much he needed her in his life. He loved her innocence, he loved her warm smile, he loved the way she said his name with her sweet southern drawl.
"Marry me Grace."
"What?" she said looking up at him from between her fingers.
"I love you—marry me." It was a spur of the moment question but he meant every word. The thought of letting her slip away to another man was almost unbearable.
"Stop kidding!" she said and giggled.
"I'm not kidding." His eyes never left hers and he asked again, but this time in a scorching gruff whisper, "Je t’aime, please marry me."
"You’re serious."
"I’ve never been more serious in my life."
She let out a soft sigh. "Lucien, you know how much I care about you," she said, "but I still don’t even know who I am."
"We can learn together." He leaned close and touched his lips to her forehead. "Please … be my wife," he murmured.
"Lucien—"
"Be the mother of my child, please … I need you," he whispered against her lips.
"But—"
"Grow old with me."
"I’m sorry," she said.
Loose strands of his hair brushed over her face as he hung his head in defeat. A frustrated groan escaped from his lips, yet he smiled in rue at his own bravery. "I guess I already knew," he said, "but—you can't blame a man for trying."
He raised his head with a devilish grin. The temptation to tickle her again was much too hard to resist. Not wanting to ruin a beautiful day, he never asked how her date went the night before.
The next afternoon, Alex stood at the front door of the Astor’s house, scratching his nails, in a hair-raising screech, across the jar that he gripped in his hand.
Lydia had called him the night before. "You have to do something fast!" she said in a rush. "He proposed to her!"
"He did what!" His heartbeat slowed to a strong hard thump. It felt like a repeating punch in the chest, from the inside out. The sensation of pending doom overwhelmed him and he felt like he was going to die. He took deep gasping breaths but still, he could not breathe.
/> "Alex?"
He gasped for air and was unable to answer.
"Are you ok?
"I’m ok," he finally said.
"She turned him down."
"Are you trying to kill me?"
"Sorry …. I figured you would have known that, but listen; you have to get over there tomorrow. Don't wait until the weekend."
Now here he was, on a Monday afternoon, anxious and uneasy.
"Alex, what a pleasant surprise," Anne said when she opened the door.
"Mrs. Astor, how are you?" He cleared his throat. "I brought this for you." He handed her the jar. "It’s honey … from the mountains."
"Thank you, how thoughtful," she said.
"Um … is Grace here?"
"She’s upstairs, I’ll get her."
"I’m sorry," he said. "I should have called first but—"
"I know." Anne smiled and patted his shoulder, "You’d rather see her in person."
After a few minutes, Grace bounded down the stairs with Czar close on her heels. Was it his imagination or did she look happy to see him?
"Alex, how are you?" Grace leaned close to him across the railing.
"I'm perfect now," he said with a broad smile. "I'll only be a minute though. Um … the academy is closed on Wednesday, so I’m off, and I was wondering," he stopped and cleared his throat, "if you’d like to go on a hike? Just a short one—nothing too strenuous."
"Sure." she said and stepped down the last two steps. "I would love to go hiking."
"Ok, good, I'll see you Wednesday then," he said. "Around nine sound ok?"
"Nine is perfect." She stepped toward him with her hands clasped behind her back.
Perfect like her, he thought.
Their eyes locked and neither of them had the will, or the want, to break free. Without turning away, he backed slowly toward the doorway.
"Ok, I'll see you Wednesday," he said again without realizing he had already said it. Unable to look away, he tripped backwards over the threshold, stumbled and almost fell. Embarrassed, he righted himself and smiled while trying to look smooth.
"I meant to do that," he said with a light chuckle.
******
Chapter 29 Asylum
The sanitarium sat isolated and silent. Its sleek modern design stood in sharp contrast to the surrounding lush green farmlands. Like a gleaming Rolex on the arm of an Amish, it defied one’s normal perception. Intentionally set away from the bustling world, the restful landscape disguised the harsh reality of the workings inside. On crossing the threshold, one would exchange warm green for harsh gray; soft rolling fields for cold hard granite; and quiet serenity for echoing footsteps and the unending cries of the insane.
André languished alone, silent and calm, but his mind was screaming and manic. He rolled to the floor and worked in anger, to break free, from the straight jacket that confined him. He had attacked three orderlies in an attempt to escape, but again this time, he had failed. Sweat leeched from every pore, and his blood-shot eyes stared wide while the voices in his head directed him. His black hair fell greasy across his face where before he had kept it well groomed. The thin mustache he once carefully trimmed had grown to a full shabby beard. He was nothing at all like the man he once was, and he smiled with unkempt teeth. Next time, he twitched, he would succeed, and those who did this would pay.
******
Chapter 30 The Decision
For Grace, the drive to the park was an hour of bliss. The day was perfect, and the scent of blooming purple plum trees added a sweet fragrance to the light spring breeze. She relaxed as she looked over at Alex, and took a deep breath of fresh air. His window was down and he leaned back while he drove. His arm hung out of the window, and he tapped an unknown tune on the outside of the truck door. At ease, his right hand was draped across the top of the wheel. The wind circled in, picked up his hair, and blew it in different directions. The sunlight dappled across his face and he turned her way and smiled. His dark sunglasses covered his eyes, but she knew that she had been caught. Embarrassed, she looked away. Sometimes, she couldn't help but stare.
The mid-week parking lot was nearly deserted. He threw a small pack across his back and swung her down from the truck by her waist. He stood for a minute, held her close, and smiled down at her. "I have something to show you."
He took her hand and led her down a wildflower-lined path to the overlook. Her eyes soaked in the scenery as she gazed from the plateau to the base of the gorge.
"It's beautiful!" She stood in awe while she studied the multicolored layers of rocks with smatterings of bright green trees growing, here and there, on the far side of the gorge.
"Look." He pointed to the tall waterfall to the right and her eyes grew wide in surprise.
"We're going down there."
"Really?" She was excited and thrilled at the challenge.
"Yep."
He took hold of her hand, laced his fingers in hers, and pulled her along behind him. The trail was steep and rocky but he held a firm grip. She could have managed easily alone, but she would never have let on. She liked the feel of her hand in his, and faked a stumble every now and then to be sure that he wouldn’t let go.
The path meandered and wound its way through the deep gorge. The rich earthy scent of soggy vegetation, hung thick and strong in the warm damp air.
"Are you tired?" he asked when they happened across an old wooden bench. It was inviting and perfectly situated under a massive crag of granite.
"A little."
Catching their second wind, they relaxed, and gazed out over a peaceful gurgling creek that curled through the gorge and wound its way past the outcrop of stone. Moss, like a cloak of bright green velvet, grew lush and dense and covered rocks like royalty, then disappeared over their edges into the clear pools below. Soft whiskers of ferns grew bristling and thick, and abundant in the rich moist earth.
"I could sit here forever." She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sky.
"Do you hear it?" he whispered in her ear, and she opened her eyes.
"It's quiet," she said.
"Close your eyes again, and listen," he said. "What do you hear?"
It was not what she heard, but what she felt that caught her attention. He was so close she could feel his warm moist breath on her neck. She could feel his intense gaze on her even though her eyes remained closed. She felt her heartbeat quicken and the heat of a blush creep up her neck. She felt him move closer, and felt his warm lips touch to her ear.
"I hear the birds singing in the trees," she said without opening her eyes.
"Yes," he whispered as his lips moved down her neck. "What else?"
"The breeze blowing through the leaves," she said quietly. She felt his lips on her cheek and the light brush of his fingertips, under her chin.
"And?" he whispered.
"The waterfall," she said as his lips touched to hers.
"Yes," he murmured. As soft as a feather, his hand brushed her cheek, and his strong arm circled her back.
"Did you know you’re beautiful?" he said, and he pulled her against him. His tongue treaded lightly, parting her lips, and then buried her mouth under his. She twisted her fingers in his thick dark hair, and succumbed to his deep burning kiss. A low throaty growl rolled from deep in his chest, when she softly whispered his name. He leaned her back, and his blistering lips scorched a trail of fire down her throat.
Her eyes slowly cracked open.
"I hear a dog," she whispered, trying to get his attention, but he was lost in a world of his own.
"Hmm?" he mumbled as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Mmm, vanilla," he said, oblivious to everything around him.
"I hear a dog," she said a little louder.
He looked up, with his hair in a tangle, like he just rolled out of bed. Bleary-eyed and half alert, he pulled away to listen.
Grace giggled.
When a dog barked again in the distance, he stood with reluctance, and took her hand.
"We'll never get to the falls like this," he said with a wink.
In no hurry, they made their way down the trail, and passed an old man with his sopping wet dog. "The water’s cold," the old man said in passing, "but it's a beautiful day."
The moment he passed, the big black friendly lab stopped, and with a violent shake, he sent a shower of cold water in all directions.
Grace screamed and laughed. "It is cold!"
They turned and watched curiously, as he glided up the hill with the ease of a much younger man. The panting lab happily bounded after him, and soon, they vanished from sight.
At the end of the path, they came to a halt and stared up at the majestic falls above them. Like a lion, it roared while it warned of its power, and spilled like a tattered wall of curtains, into the clear plunge-pool below. The mist hung thick and heavy in a cloud of tiny droplets, saturating all that it touched. Like a multi-colored gift from the falls, the sun danced gently in tune with the water. Coming together as one, a perfect rainbow was born.
"It's beautiful!" she said as she looked out over the bubbling pool toward the point where the rainbow began. "I love it here!" she said, and threw her arms around his waist. She let him go, plopped down on a rock, peeled off her shoes and socks, and stuck her feet in the water. "It is cold!" she said. "But it feels really good!" She wiggled her toes around, briefly stirring up mud and silt from the bottom, then relaxed, and watched, as it slowly re-settled and buried her feet.
Alex took off his pack and placed it a safe distance away from the water. Careful that she would not see, he pulled the knife from his boot and the gun from his side, and stashed them in his pack. He didn’t want to break Lydia's number one rule, but he didn’t want to be unprotected either. He took off his boots next to the water and joined her on the rock.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," she echoed and grinned.
"Did you know … that you like flowers?" He pulled a small wild blue violet from behind his back. He held it out and twirled it between his fingers, but not willing to give it up yet. "When I was a kid," he said, "My dad took me out to hunt—a lot. We were sometimes gone for days and my mom was often left home alone."