Swirling her brush in the pail's muck, Jade carefully transferred the rabbit skin glue to the giant canvas. As she crouched over the heavy cloth, she aimed for the furthest corner and stretched her aching shoulder. With a slow, even stroke, she painstakingly applied the primer.
Sweat fell into her eyes, and she wiped her forehead with the back of her glue-crusted hand while staring at the slick, moist surface. At the far end of the canvas was an embedded fly. Frowning, she reached for it.
"Good work, Jade," Jean said as he stood behind her. "At this rate, you'll be done within the hour. When you're finished, you can leave. I won't be needing you until Monday."
Glancing up at him, she gave him a quick smile, and then returned to the job.
An hour later, her hands were in a bucket of cold water, scrubbing off dried glue. After rubbing her face with a damp cloth, she hurried to a small room down the hall where she kept her change of clothes. It was late. If she ran, she could make it to her appointment on time.
As she pulled her skirt off the peg on the wall, she sensed something behind her, and spun around. Erik loomed over her a scant foot away.
My heart is nearly in my throat! She wanted to hiss at him. It was the second time that week he'd appeared out of nowhere.
Chuckling dryly, he gently pushed her against the wall. Slowly, his hands encircled her waist as his lips slid up her throat. "Would you deny me my right to see my little wife whenever I wish?" he crooned in a low voice. He pressed harder, and his teeth raked her jaw line.
For a frantic moment, Jade thought that he intended to have her there, and a dark thrill ran through her as she stared at the unlocked door. Then, with a slight smile, he backed away and gazed down at her. Composing herself, she reached past him, locked the door, and changed her clothes under his sparkling eyes.
"You are going to the market?" he asked as she reached for her cloak.
Avoiding his eyes, she quickly replied, "Yes. And afterwards, I'll be going to a café to meet with a friend. I plan to be back at the gate by six."
His leather-clad fingers lifted her chin, and lightly followed the curve of her throat to her breast while he stared at her intently. Then he turned, and left through the door that appeared in the wall.
Shaking her head, Jade watched his broad shoulders sweep out of the room, and wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to his popping in and out.
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With a heavy basket, Jade worked her way through the busy café, and headed towards Pierre. His blue shirt was buttoned to the top, and cast a cool, strangled hue onto his gloomy face. As she drew near, a lump settled in her throat. He looked even sadder than he had on her wedding day three weeks ago.
Seeing her, his face lit up. Then he caught himself, and assumed a polite smile. Jade sat down, took his hands, and firmly held them until that distant smile faded and warmth returned to his eyes.
"You look well, Jade," he said with a touch of hoarseness.
"As do you, Pierre," she solemnly replied.
He cleared his throat. "Michel and the rest of my family send their regards. Have you received Marie's wedding invitation?" His eyes roamed across her hair and face.
"Yes, I'm planning on attending. I wanted to ask you about a gift. Do you know what she and her future husband need?"
Pierre waved down the waitress and ordered a light meal. By the time the food came, they'd finished discussing his sister's upcoming wedding in April, and had moved on to his family's vineyard.
"Lucien tore out the entire vineyard as you suggested," he said. "We have the new vine stock, and are ready to plant as soon as the weather allows." As he cut his fillet of beef, Jade watched the knife's sawing motion, and could see huge piles of rotting vines eerily burning into the night.
The whole vineyard destroyed! Dear God, let Erik be right, she prayed.
He gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry Jade. At the rate the vineyard was failing, there would have soon been nothing left. Lucien was willing to take the risk. He's grateful for your advice. "
In spite of his words, she still felt uneasy. If their plan failed, Lucien and his family would have to go to America since Pierre's brother had decided against relocating to Paris. He was determined to farm, even if it were on another continent. And if the family crossed the ocean, Michel would go with them.
The possibility of not seeing Michel again saddened her.
While Pierre ate, he told her about his plan to buy land instead of building an addition onto his home.
"Who will keep house for you when Marie marries?" Jade asked as she absently poked at her frozen pudding.
With a shrug, he replied, "There's a neighbor who will come by and do the cleaning and some of the cooking. I'll manage the rest."
Often when she thought of him, she'd recall that night when she'd dined at his home with his sister and nephews. It had been a perfect evening with Pierre happily sitting by the fire with those he loved. Now what she saw was a dark, empty house, and Pierre eating alone.
She looked up to see him watching her with a strange look on his face. It was the same expression she'd recently gotten from some of the men on her work crew—an odd mixture of longing and excitement. She had shrugged it off, but here it was again only this time from Pierre.
Looking past her, his face settled into a more distant expression as he casually asked, "How is your new home?"
"It's fine," she carefully replied. "We live alone without servants, and I keep house. I prefer it that way. I don't think I'd be comfortable running a large household and constantly telling people what they must do." Glancing at the shiny, new wicker basket at her side, she took in the brightly colored produce that she'd bought earlier. It was wonderful to be able to buy what ever struck her fancy.
Pierre nodded amiably. "Yes, I can understand that."
After mentioning her daily routine of cleaning and cooking, she leaned towards him with a twinkle in her eye. "My husband has been teaching me exotic recipes from around the world. Did you know that lamb stew tastes better when you add cinnamon?" Both of them laughed.
"So, you're back in the opera house again," he said with a meaningful look as he sipped his coffee.
Nodding, she smiled brightly. "At this time, I'm only doing basic apprentice chores but I'm learning something new each day as I watch the others."
As she explained the details of her work, Pierre leaned back and gave her his full attention. He was a good listener, and asked about her impressions as well as the mechanics of the job. His eyes gleamed as she described the swish of heavy backcloths being raised and lowered above the stage, the penetrating odor of paint, and the new designs that sprung from skilled hands.
Pierre's rapt interest reminded her of Erik. After work, she'd sit with him and tell him about her day. Often, her thoughts and feelings rushed out like those of a child who couldn't hold back. At such times, Erik would fix his gaze on her with the utmost patience. It always amazed her. He was a great musician and yet he was listening to the impressions of a raw apprentice! Sharing her experiences with him was intoxicating.
Afterwards, she'd go to the kitchen to prepare supper. But food was the last thing on her mind. Her hands would caress the rough pots and tingle as she thought of what would come when they were in bed.
Jade's eyes met Pierre's. That strange look was back but instead of avoiding it, she returned his gaze.
Reaching across the table, he squeezed her hand. "You look happy, Jade. I'm glad to see that married life agrees with you."
Leaving the café, they stepped outside onto the crowded sidewalk. The street was full of carts and carriages with a clatter that drowned out their voices. As Jade waited for a cab to approach, she followed Pierre with her eyes and laughed when he spoke a bon mot into her ear. Opening the carriage door, Pierre helped her inside with her basket. Then hanging over the window, he took her hand, and pressed it to his lips for a long moment. With a brisk nod of his head, he bid her farewell.
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Arriving at the iron-gate, Jade unlocked it and slipped in. Hidden in the darkness was the boat, tucked under a shelf of rock. After dragging the craft to the water, she sat on an empty crate and waited. For once Erik was late, and she was glad for it. As she sat in the cool darkness with her elbows propped on her knees and her chin resting on her hands, she meditated over her visit with Pierre.
Minutes later, the gate creaked, and a tall figure silently glided towards her.
Erik loaded the basket into the boat, and helped her into the bobbing craft. The dim light hid his face, and he said nothing as they floated home. It was just as well. Jade welcomed the silence as she continued to ponder Pierre's loneliness.
Once inside their home, she quickly moved through the rooms as she replaced candles and restocked the pantry. She wasn't hungry but it was late, and she needed to get supper ready for Erik. Pulling out the bread bowl, she emptied flour into it, and was reaching for the leavening when Erik entered the kitchen. Glancing up at him, she froze. He was leaning against the doorframe, and staring at her with a tight lipped, chilling expression.
Slowly, she untied her apron as she held his gaze. Then she cautiously stepped past him into the front room. Sitting down on the divan, she intently watched him close the distance between them, and pull up a chair.
"What is it, Erik?" she asked evenly as she hid her alarm.
"Is there something that you wish to tell me?" he queried. His eyes burned into hers.
Studying him, Jade assessed his mood. He was obviously angry with her over something, but what? Mentally retracing her steps, she realized that he must have found out about her visit with Pierre.
Lifting her chin, she gave him a measured look and replied, "I saw Pierre Aubert today after I went to the market. Is that what you want to know about?" Tension squeezed her shoulders.
With piercing eyes, he replied with a supremely controlled voice, "You neglected to mention that it was he whom you would be meeting when you went to the café today. If you would be so kind as to explain why you omitted that fact…" His tone dripped with sarcasm.
Abruptly, Jade stood up. Holding in her temper, she moved towards the front door. Her shoulder muscles were taut bands that needed release. If she could only stretch a little, she could calmly face her irate, accusing companion.
She'd walked several feet when suddenly Erik was in front of her with his hands like vises on her shoulders.
"Do not walk away from me when I am speaking to you!" he hissed.
"Let go of me this instant!" she shouted with blazing eyes.
Struggling against his unrelenting grip, she suddenly lunged forward, with her fist aimed at his solar plexus. His hands immediately loosened, and she spun out of his reach.
Erik partially doubled over and gasped for air. Straightening, he glared at her. Before he could take a step, Jade imperiously raised her hand.
"If you touch me again, you will never bed me," she croaked with fury.
They breathed heavily as they stared each other down. Then she edged towards the divan and Erik followed. Sitting down, Jade waited awhile before speaking.
This is madness, she thought as she fought her anger. Erik is still jealous of Pierre!Nothing happened between us. We were only talking, she considered as she gazed at Erik's pale face. Why is he so upset?
She wanted to shake her head and shake him as well. His temper was deplorable. Her shoulders were smarting from his grip. Yet, she had to admit that she was partly to blame for his distrust. If I had told him about my visit…It's just that I didn't want him to say no to it.
Gazing at him, she saw that the steeliness was gone, replaced by wariness, and something else. Regret?
She sighed, and shut her eyes for a minute. When she opened them, her face had softened.
"Erik, I knew it might be a problem if I didn't tell you about my visit with Pierre. However, I was afraid that it would upset you." Her eyes were large and tender as she reached for his hand. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you."
Suddenly, he was next to her, and fiercely pulling her close to him. Pressing his lips into her hair, he held her tightly for a long moment and said huskily, "Am I hurting you?"
Shaking her head 'no', she rested in his arms and let out a deep sigh. Then she squirmed free and kissed his neck.
He scooped her up, and carried her to the bedroom where he laid her on the bed. Climbing in next to her, he gathered her into his arms, and held her until their breathing calmed. Her hand was against his chest and he began to kiss the tips of her fingers. With her free hand, Jade cupped his face.
She said softly, "I think it would be best if we discuss this."
The kissing stopped and he coolly replied. "What is there to discuss, Jade? If I were to ask you not to see him again, would you agree to it?"
Blinking, she stared keenly at him, and answered. "Why must that be the only choice? He is no longer your rival but a dear friend of mine. Don't you trust me?"
"Then you admit that he was once my rival?" he asked sternly.
Shutting her eyes, she nodded slowly and gave him a long, earnest look. "Last year, I loved you both. But when I realized that it was love, I made my choice. I chose you, Erik. On the night that you played the music that drove me away, I chose you."
"He is not your rival," she said firmly as she caressed his face.
Erik traced her lips with his finger before kissing her. Opening her mouth, she welcomed his soft, insistent lips. Their kiss deepened, and he lingered over her with his sweeping tongue. Afterwards, Jade rested her head on his chest.
"If it hadn't been for Pierre, I don't believe we would have found each other, " she said quietly.
"What do you mean?" he murmured into her hair.
She hesitated before answering. How could she put into words what she knew in her heart? Pierre had opened the door, and when Erik appeared, she'd stepped through it.
"Before I met Pierre, I didn't trust others."
"Jean-Luc?" he asked as he gently stroked her back.
Lifting her head up she stared into his eyes, and then returned to her comfortable spot against him. "Yes, and more," she replied distantly.
"Tell me about him," he coaxed.
Settling against his warm, lean body, she told him about the sweet boy who had loved her with all his heart. But unlike the time she had told her story to Pierre, when she was half drunk, there were no tears. Instead, she felt a deep peace as she relived the memories. It was then that she realized that Pierre had been right—she hadn't lost Jean-Luc when she decided to love again. He was still with her.
As she lay next to Erik and felt his gentle hand, her heart was nearly bursting with love for both the man who had died and the man who lay beside her.
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Erik slowly stroked her silky skin, and prolonged their delicious exchange.
You have bewitched me, he thought as he leaned on one elbow and stared into her jade green eyes.
They were naked with the blanket bunched around their hips as they pressed together. Her dreamy look was back, and he was smiling at it. It was an expression that was uniquely hers—a mixture of enchantment and knowledge as she merged with a world only she could see. He had only to touch her and suddenly he belonged there as well, as she opened herself to him and shared her bounty.
Reaching for her breast, his thumb slid around her nipple in a slow, pressing circle. She leaned back with parted lips and half closed eyes, and made that lovely sound that invited deeper contact. While sliding his lips along her stomach, he unwittingly touched her shoulder and she groaned. Stopping, he stared at her intently, as he gently brushed his fingers around the bruises that he had caused in his fit of anger. From the bedside table, he retrieved a jar and gently reapplied cool salve to the marks.
"I am very sorry, my dear," he said tenderly.
"It is nothing," she murmured, and gazed at him with forgiving eyes.
Nothing, he pondered. No, it is indeed something to jeopardize your trust, my dearest wife. Never again. But he knew that it was a promise he might not be able to keep.
Still, she had stopped him cold before he could injure her further, and he was grateful for that. Her resourcefulness had saved them both.
He continued to kiss her slowly and gently.
Scarcely an hour before he had been angry. Watching the way that man had helped her into the carriage, and seeing the joy on her face as she spoke with him—he had realized that their bond was even stronger than before. Then Jade had returned home and instead of coming to him, and pouring out the delightful impressions of her day, she had turned away. The farmer had stolen the confidences that should have been his.
But tonight, she had opened her heart to him. She had lain on his chest and breathed out her history. And like a parched soil, he had soaked in her trust and joy, which sated his long held need for intimacy.
She was the most exquisite creature in the world, and she was his.
Over the last two weeks, Erik had smugly watched as men's heads turned when Jade passed them in the opera house. She was a woman whose sensuality was in full bloom. There was a heat coming off her, and a faint perfume of love that men found irresistible.
Her hands floated up to him and caressed his chest. Erik stared at them for a moment. They're almost as small as a child's, he thought with affection.Shutting his eyes, he arched into her touch. She pulled him to her and kissed his face, and his chest. Sighing, he yielded, and then hardened as her warm lips moved lower.
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It was raining when Jade stepped from the carriage, and stood on the sidewalk in front of the old tenement house in the tenth arrondissement. It was the first of April, and a little over two months since she had lived in that dreary building. Stepping into the hall, she knocked on the worn door. In a moment, Mme. Pissaro stood before her. Clasping her hands, she pulled Jade into the cozy apartment.
Nothing had changed since her last visit. The wallpaper with faded, red roses that climbed a trellis was still there as well as the green velvet drapes. Glancing around the room, Jade remembered those bone chilling nights where this had been her only haven.
An hour later, Mme. Pissaro refilled the teapot, and again offered the plate of radishes to her guest. She watched as the young woman eagerly took several more. Then she settled into her large, velvet upholstered chair by the fire, and poured them both a cup of tea.
They had spent the evening talking about household matters. Jade had asked her friend questions that a newly married woman would have typically asked her mother. In turn, Madame had asked her about her home and her husband. When Jade told her about his black hair and broad shoulders, the older woman's eyelids fluttered, and her large flat bosom heaved. Mme. Pissaro was a genuine romantic.
Picking up her cup, Jade sipped the hot beverage as she steadily regarded the gray haired woman. She had yet to ask her the most important of her questions. Their eyes met, and the older woman nodded briefly as if encouraging her to speak her mind. Taking in a deep breath, Jade responded.
"Mme. Pissaro, when you were first pregnant, how long was it before you knew?"
The corners of the older woman's eyes crinkled as she looked at her over her teacup. "Well, my dear, most women know when they miss their monthly visitor."
Nodding, Jade put her cup down, and lifted her chin as she squarely faced the woman. "I know. However, I've never had it occur regularly, that is, every month. Sometimes I go for two or three months before it happens."
Mme. Pissaro thoughtfully eyed her. "What makes you think that this time it's different?"
Shrugging, Jade stared down at her belly and replied, "My breasts feel fuller than usual, and they're a little tender. And oddly, I feel a bit bloated, only not just in my stomach, but all over." Looking up at the other woman, she asked, "Do I look different?"
Leaning forward, Mme. Pissaro asked, "Is your stomach uneasy in the morning when you first awaken?"
Shaking her head 'no', Jade stared back with a serious expression.
"Have you mentioned this to your husband, my dear?"
Jade lowered her eyes and looked away. "No," she said softly. "I though it would be best to wait until I was certain."
In their time together, Erik hadn't mentioned children. She had no idea how he would feel about a pregnancy. Was it too soon? Would he dislike the idea of a squalling baby and dirty nappies? Not every man was like Jean.
And if she were pregnant, how would he feel about curtailing their current intimacies? He truly enjoyed making love. Would he resent the baby?
Touching her stomach lightly, Jade shut her eyes and remembered Gillian's face. Their child would probably not have her fair hair. But she or he might have that same, fiery spirit that had lit up Jade's life.
Slowly, she smiled as she felt a stirring of joy inside of her. Erik's child…yes, he or she will be extraordinary.
Opening her eyes, she met those of Mme. Pissarro. The older woman was smiling back, and nodding her head with approval.