AN: Weez, merci pour ton aide. Je l'apprécie beaucoup!
Unexpected Grace – Chapter 7
The dream had changed.
She watches from the door of the verandah so high on the cliff overlooking the ocean. Her eyes scan the long, exposed back of the silver-haired woman standing at its edge. The woman's hands rest lightly on the stone boundary. Her eyes scan the horizon seeing the calm water of low tide with the smallest of lapping waves, and sea birds diving, calling as they do, swooping over the water.
The dawn sky is cloudless, translucent daylight blues bleed into the black of night in the western sky. The moon, just a sliver past full, fades in luminosity as the rising sun starts to peek above the horizon, chasing the night. Brilliantly, the sun clears the sea's edge and a blazing golden pathway stretches to the woman. She lifts her arms, extending them forward to the sun; gently cupped and palms up, as if to fill them with that luminous brightness. Her eyes close and she stands, a living prayer. The light catches the silver of her hair and with the white of her tunic, she simply shines. The barest stirring of a breeze strokes her body, shifting the tunic, exposing sensuous curves.
She smiles at the light footsteps she hears from behind as the watcher approaches. Arms slip around her with a long caress of strong and gentle hands over hips and belly. Those hands link and her body shifts back as the other's comes forward. The sudden warmth of skin and breasts against her back sparks a deep shiver, sending it echoing into her core. Her hands drop to cover those of the other woman's as her head drops back, leaning into the safety and shelter of her beloved, her eyes still watching the sun. She feels warm breath against her neck as soft lips find a home, nuzzling, just behind her ear.
"Greeting the new day?" One hand escapes its partner to reach up and trace the length of her neck, moving inward across a clavicle and down, just skirting the rounded curve of a breast through an opening in the tunic's V, and continuing downward to interlock with its twin again and intertwine with those of the woman before her. They stand as one, gently swaying, watching the dawning of the day. Faint music from inside the structure drifts to them on the breeze.
"With you, every day is new and every dawn is a blessing." Turning her head to kiss the cheek of the dark haired one holding her, she smoothly turns into waiting arms, getting lost in the depths of the warm brown eyes holding hers captive. She presses forward into a full body kiss that leaves no misunderstanding concerning the depth of love, of desire, of need…..
A loud blast from a truck on the street woke Andy out of a deep sleep. She groaned feeling her body tensed to the max. The abrupt ending to the dream left her aching for the heart-filled connection that was so very different from the acute loss she had woken to in the weeks before. Waking so aroused, her body felt like it was on fire. She took in deep breaths, forcing muscles to relax, slowly stilling a racing heart. A ghost of smile traveled over her lips and her body arched, stretching sinuously. Questing toes, one sporting the golden glimmer of a ring, found the puddle of late morning sunlight at the base of the bed. Her thoughts drifted as the dream's immediate intensity faded. I guess this is more hopeful than the last months of my subconscious torturing me. I'm a long way from the huddling exiled mass cowering from stormy seas in the bottom of some floating death trap where this all started.
No more. I want the reality of that amazing woman in my arms, in my bed…..now. I want her to sing my name, with that accent she gives it, Andréa, begging me to touch, to make her come. Together we might just implode that black hole Nigel mentioned. Gods, even more, I want to stand in the center of her heart.
Bleary eyed, she sat up on the edge of the bed, thinking back through the past day and night. Last night had been a later one than she had planned. She had stumbled up the stairs and made it in the door, dumped her boots, bag and coat, and tumbled into bed, her exhaustion driving her into a deep sleep. Clothes lay in a pile where she had left them. She blinked, slowly. Her thoughts beginning to race with all the things she needed to do. She had a day, just a day. There was Nigel's party to figure out, the set and all the details. Most importantly, she needed to figure out how she was going to approach Miranda and what she wanted to say and how.
"Oh, fuck! The guitar!" She bolted out of bed, streaking into the main room almost tripping over boots left in her path from where she had dropped them last night. She sighed in relief when she saw the case resting close to the front door. She padded over to the case, picking it up and carrying it to the sofa. This was real. It wasn't a dream. She sat down heavily on the couch and just stared at the case almost afraid to open it. I can barely believe this happened.
She shivered, realizing she was sitting on her couch stark naked. She made her way back to the bedroom, throwing on yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Heading to the kitchen, she started coffee. She eyed the guitar case warily, half expecting it to disappear. Grabbing a mug of coffee, a carton of yogurt and a banana she sat at her desk. Opening her email, she found Nigel had sent directions to his party at La Nuit Sombre with a reminder to pass the information on to Doug and Michael. They'd get there and set up for a quick sound check at 6:30 P.M. The party started at 8:00 and Nigel wanted them to start playing around 9:00. Clothes would be waiting for them to change into before their set.
She looked up the restaurant on the web out of curiosity. The owner-chefs were a married couple that had emigrated from France five years ago. La Nuit Sombre was their dream made real. The restaurant was relatively new but had rave reviews. The cuisine was French and the menu looked exceptional and was coupled to an extensive wine list. Photos showed a dark elegant interior with a small performance space, a beautiful bar and scattered small tables. Miranda adored places like this. They had lunched at a wonderful bistro like this in Paris that Nigel had found. It was like stepping back in time. How fitting in the weirdest kinda way. And it's here that I'm going to make my way back to her.
Finishing her breakfast, Andy fired an email off to Doug and Michael with all the details. She asked them to come by her place at 4:00 the next afternoon for a quick run through. They could grab a cab and get all their instruments and equipment over together with enough time to set up.
Stretching, she felt the ache of well walked muscles from the day before. Running her fingers through her hair, the fine coating of city dust made her wince. I'm not doing anything until I've had a bath. The old claw foot tub was huge, deep and extra-long, which meant she could immerse fully, her long legs completely extended. As the tub filled, she added a subtly spicy bubble bath. The room warmed quickly as the fragrant steam escaped into the air.
Stripping, she immersed herself slowly in the tub, sighing softly with pleasure. She leaned back, letting her head rest against the rounded edge as she sank up to her chin. Muscles began to gradually loosen and relax as she let her breathing slow. The percussive, rhythmic drip of the bath faucet was the only sound besides her shallow breathing. She sank slowly, holding her breath, wetting her hair before sitting up and shampooing, rinsing with fresh water from the hose attachment. She grabbed a washcloth, soaped it and washed. The fine silken fluid of earlier arousal rinsed quickly into the bath water. Her thoughts drifted to Miranda…holding her, having her in this tub ….most thoroughly and completely having her. A fingertip stroked between still sensitive folds, dancing over her clit. Her hips arched, rising to her own touch. She hummed to herself as her thoughts warmed distractedly.
And there it was. What was that tune she was humming? It kept slipping away before she could remember it. Suddenly, it hit her. This was the music of the dream that had eluded her twice. But this was it. She quickly rose from the bath, sloshing water in her haste. She half dried herself off, throwing the towel on the puddle and dressed, moving into the living room.
Sitting on the couch, she opened the guitar case. "We've got some magic to create, beautiful one." She tuned quickly. Beginning slowly, Andy carefully picked out the notes she had heard. She painstakingly teased out the melodic line, humming softly as she did, repeating it over and over until she had it down.
Her sole focus became the music. All else was forgotten. She felt driven as she images of the dream were intensely present in her mind's eye. Now that she had the melody, she could add the chords that supported it. She stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She listened, deeply listened, beginning to hear beyond the immediate. The vision of Miranda from the morning's dream came to her, her face relaxed and open, love pouring from her eyes.
Opening her eyes, she lifted the guitar back into her lap, tuning it down to that rich open tuning she had first used yesterday just before practicing with the guys. She murmured to the guitar almost sub-vocally, "Ah yes, that's it, right there". She heard the richness of the chords start to come to the surface as she slowly found her way, backing the melody, laying down the instrumental base. The almost stately yet delicate elegance of the music enticed and invited.
She worked for hours, time disappearing as she played. The shadows in the apartment had shifted when she finally stopped playing and she could tell it was late afternoon. "Well, ouch!" She complained as she shook out her hands, noticing the slight tenderness of the fingertips of her left hand. The callous had thinned a little during the time she couldn't play. Rising, she stretched, rolling her neck to work out the kinks. Here breakfast had long ago been burnt through and hunger called her name. Sticking her head in the fridge, she saw a questionable tomato and a browning head of lettuce. Time to head out for food.
Grabbing her wallet and phone, she shrugged on her jacket and slipped down the stairs. She was halfway down the block when Nigel called. "Hey, Nigel."
"Hi Andy. Got my email?"
"Yup, I'm confirming with the guys. I'll let you know if there are any problems".
"Great! And how's the plan going?"
"Well, I haven't got all the details. But I have the beginning of something, something good. "
"I trust you to let me know what I can do. Emily will be there and I'm positive she'll help if needed. And Andy, don't forget to trust your gut and your heart. They'll take you where you need to go. Love is magic and mystery and you just have to trust it sometimes…. even when you are trying to give it a little push."
"I hear you, Nigel. I'm finding my way. Talk to you later, bye."
Andy continued on, grabbed a sandwich and a muffin for the morning at the local deli and headed home. She quickly ate and sat back down, guitar, journal and a pen in hand. She had lit a few candles in the room, needing the softness of candlelight. She started playing, singing the melody without words as she did.
She looked down at the guitar, her fingertips stroking the embedded dragon. "So, tell me…..how does one seduce a dragon to come out of her cave? Any hints? " She sighed and settled back into her work.
Slowly, the lyrics started to come. Nigel's words came back to her…..magic and mystery. She sang softly as the words began to come… "Love seems to find me…..love seems to find me in mysterious ways….."
She worked long into the night, sometimes playing, sometimes pacing as she teased the words into a song, keeping some, and rejecting others, finding the right ones. Combined with the music behind the word, this would be a piece that did not beg but that was an invitation to a beginning, one that put her heart on the line.
Finally, she played it through for a final time. She jotted down the last bit of text in her journal and sat back, emptied and exhausted. Forcing herself to stand, she put the guitar in the corner guitar stand with a whispered, "Welcome home." With a gentle stroke of the strings, she stumbled off to bed.
As her head hit the pillow, her last fading thought was, I know what I have to do …..and what it will cost me if I fail. Failure….not an option...
It had been a long, tiring day.
Miranda had arrived home at her townhouse late in the evening. She sat alone in her study, a third glass of one of her favorite red wines in her hand, an indulgence beyond her usual single glass. Her shoes were off and her legs were tucked beneath her as she sat. She had grabbed the throw off the coach and now wrapped it around herself, sinking deeper into the large leather chair. The house was quiet and the room softly lit. She so rarely got the chance to simply stop and catch her breath. She brought the glass up to her cheek, cooling the skin for a few seconds.
She ran her fingers through that stubborn lock over her forehead, brushing it back from her eyes. Maybe she'd let her hair grow out, let the girls put that temporary blue streak that they had put in her forelock last Halloween back in. It has washed out the next morning. Could you see their faces if I walked into Runway with that? The next day everyone in fashion would have one. Perhaps it was the wine, but the whimsy of her thoughts made her laugh out loud at the absurdity as she imagined a Runway spread with all kinds of celebrities sporting little streaks of color. Oh my, last glass tonight, I think.
Things had gone well today. Her upper management had informed all employees of the coming changes early in the morning with support from HR. The air of relief in Runway's offices was palatable. A noon press release had gone out announcing the coming changes, followed by a press conference featuring Nigel and Emily with Miranda there to introduce them in their new roles. She had stepped back and let them handle the questions that had followed. It was a relief to see the ease and professionalism they had exhibited.
The months ahead would challenge everyone maximally. She knew she would be needed as a strong presence in the changeover. But a personal turning point had been reached. She could see a flicker of light at the end of tunnel, like the tiniest glimmer of a dawn breaking over a distant horizon. She only wished that there was someone there at the end of that tunnel. She slammed the door on the immediate vision of warm, brown eyes that started to fill her mind. She had destroyed that possibility for all the right reasons.
Silly woman, there's nothing there for you."Let her go…..let go…let go…let go..." She chanted the last words aloud in a whisper. She chugged back a large gulp of wine, swallowing around the lump in her throat, as she shook her head, Not a nice thing to do to such a rich vintage.
She looked around the room taking it in. Rising, she drank the last sip of wine, savoring it this time, before abandoning the glass on the table. She wandered in stocking feet to the girls' rooms, smiling as she peeked in, seeing all the trappings of almost teenagers. One room was an explosion of artistic intention while the other was more reserved and neat, reflecting the differences between the two.
Before they were born, she had been so terribly afraid. Handling millions of dollars of budgets and a top of the line fashion magazine? No problem. But bringing up two little humans? How could she be anyone's mother? But the moment they were laid in her arms, the unexpected ferocity of her love was born in an instant, overcoming any fear. Nothing would ever harm them if she had power in the world to prevent it, including her own actions. Or the things she chose not to act upon, as she thought sadly of Andréa.
The girls were spending the weekend with their father. Soon there would be boys and all that drama. Or maybe girls? These years were all moving so fast. With a sharp intake of breath, it hit her. They would be gone soon enough. They would fly off into their own lives with her love and the best preparation she was capable of giving them, as the wind beneath those newly unfurled wings.
And then, she would be here by herself, knocking around inside this huge home. A sudden overwhelming sense of aloneness and loss swept over her. As accustomed to her own company as she was, a frisson of fear passed through her. She raised her hands to her face and leaned back against the wall for a brief moment of support. Ah, the choices we make….the choices I made. I want them all to be happy and if this is what it costs, then I will pay, whatever it takes. She knew she was thinking of more than just the girls but of Andréa as well. At least, I will be able to be here more for my girls in the next years. But who'll be there for me?
For a moment, a spark of anger caught her. Her hands fisted as she turned and made her way to her bedroom. She pulled the bedspread back, angrily throwing pillows into a corner. Damn, I wish …., Her shoulders slumped as she sat abruptly on the end of the bed, fingers fisted in the bedspread. I wish for what I have no right to want. I know, I pushed her away for all the right reasons but...I wish...
She sat, immobile for minutes, regaining her control and composure. Tomorrow night, she'd attend Nigel's party. She'd be social, genuinely social. She'd use the days ahead to catch her breath for this coming phase of her life. This would be a starting point, this party. It was time for the new, improved Miranda Priestly to step out from behind the Runway curtain. The one that actually had a life or at least hoped to, soon. It had been a long time coming.
Like the Wizard of Oz in Wicked, the façade was crumpling and the dragon was a collection of mechanical parts without a heart, falling to the floor, rusted out. Perhaps she was the Tin Woman after all, searching for that lost, slowly beating muscle. She lifted her chin, moisture on her eyelashes glistening. She forced her hands to relax, to smooth the bedspread with small gestures of comfort, as she straightened her spine.
I can do this…..I can do this.
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