Author's note: Crissa, your help as beta is so appreciated, thank you, thank you, thank you!
CHAPTER 10
They had started work at the gallery at 9am and hadn't had a break all day. Clara had nervously flipped through Marina's notes and, despite her general dislike for the woman, had to admit that Vanessa was very organised. All the necessary contact details were jotted down, the to do list was concise but clear. The only thing that lacked in order for her to do her job was her ability to communicate in French. Marina served as her translator, her graceful hands gesturing animatedly as she communicated with the gallery workers. Clara watched her, loving the sound of those foreign words falling from her lips as though it were second nature to her.
"If only you knew how I was butchering this beautiful language, my love." Marina said when Clara murmured how sexy it was when she spoke French.
The perspex had been delivered as requested with the photos printed onto them, one for each element. They were huge. They were to be hung from the ceiling and Clara used sign language and her pigeon English to convey where they needed to be. Marina's exhibition – one among a handful for the photography festival - had been given a large, white, square room with wooden flooring and a high ceiling. Each element was to occupy a corner with ether taking the place of honour in the center of the room. In addition to the perspex, each element would have an additional four photos smaller photos. Although smaller was relative, they were still size A0. They were printed on an semi-opaque paper, not dissimilar to tracing paper and were mounted and hung from ceiling around the perspex image. Back-lighting was to be used to illuminate the images.
"I want the images to glow." Marina explained, "I want them to have this ethereal, other-world quality."
Clara was under strict instructions not to deal with the Earth element part of the exhibition. In fact Marina had her leave the room while it was being mounted because she was insistent that she wanted Clara to see it only at the opening the following day. When Clara was finally allowed back into the room, each of her photos had been covered to protect from prying eyes.
"Come, Marina, let me see." she said, "I need to prepare myself before everyone else sees it!"
"No, my love. I want you to see it in its full effect."
Not stopping for lunch, they pushed through until Marina sidled up to Clara at about 3:30pm and said they were done for the day, that they had somewhere to be.
Clara frowned. "I don't have any appointment listed and the photos are not all up yet, I need to sort out the plaques with the explanations, we need to see to the lighting..."
"We'll do that tomorrow but we need to get going now, otherwise we'll be too late."
"Be too late for what?" Clara said her eyes narrowing and her interest piqued.
"You ask too many questions. Now come!" Marina said and extended her hand. Clara took it and was lead to a Smart Car that waited for them outside the gallery. Clara couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculously tiny vehicle with enough room for two people and not much else.
"We're going to ride in that?" she asked incredulously, "It looks like a toy!"
"It's a popular car here because it can fit into those tiny parking spots."
"Oh my God!" Clara said, laughing, "these French are crazy!"
She got into the passenger seat somewhat concerned but pleasantly surprised when she saw how quickly it could weave in between traffic.
With the aid of Sat Nav, they made their way out of the inner city, out onto the A14 that lead to the edges of Paris and then out of Paris all together.
"Where are you taking me, Marina?"
"Patience, my love, you'll see."
xxx
They arrived in Giverny an hour later. It was a quaint little French village with stone walls and roads lined with trees but no sidewalk. Maneuvering with agility into a parallel parking spot, Marina turned to Clara and said:
"We're here."
"Ummmm. It's very pretty..." Clara said.
"I want to show you this place."
Marina slipped out of the car and opened the door for Clara.
"Such a gentlewoman!"
"Hardly. I only did it so I could do this." Marina said pressing Clara against the car and kissing her.
"Marina!" Clara said looking around furtively at a couple who were walking down the road. To kiss at night in the shadows was one thing, but in broad daylight was another.
"Relax! We're in France and near Paris. It's safe."
And, indeed, the couple didn't seem to care. Marina interlaced their fingers and they walked a few hundred meters up the road until they emerged from a brick wall to see a large two storied cottage covered in a sprawling vine that twisted around the windows and their green shutters. Marina pulled Clara along the gravel pathway to the steps that lead to a door.
"Marina – we can't just walk up to someone else's house!"
"It's not just anyone's house. It's Claude Monet's."
"What do you mean, it's Claude Monet's?"
"As in this is where Claude Monet lived."
"Ummm, okay..."
"It's open to the public."
They opened the door and moved to the reception.
"Bonjour." A rather large woman sat perched on a chair that looked too small for her ample frame.
"Bonjour, madame." Marina replied. "Je suis Marina Mereille – il paraît que ...*"
She didn't even need to finish her sentence, the woman stood up and shook her hand.
"Ah, oui, Marina!" she said and her face lit up, "Soyez les bienvenues ! Je vais vite chercher.**"
The woman ambled out a door appearing moments later, a large picnic basket in hand and a blanket in another.
"Voilà ! Pour vous. Amusez-vous biens!***"
"Marina, what's going on...?"
"Come with me." Marina said pulling Clara in the direction of the back door.
They stepped out onto the back veranda overlooking a garden bursting with a medley of flowers. Lavender, poppies, tulips and roses amongst others sprawled along the pathways. Marina breathed deeply, her eyes closed.
"Smell that, Clara?" she said.
Clara breathed deeply too and caught to subtle scents that played on the afternoon breeze. Earth and leaves, the delicate scent of roses and jasmine.
"Delicious." she said.
Marina turned to look at her.
"I'm so glad I can show you this,Clara, you have no idea."
Before she could ask why, she was being lead down the pathway, past an elderly lady and her cane, past a pair of tourists snapping a few pictures.
At the end of the garden was the pond. Clara recognized it straight away.
"This is where Claude Monet painted his water lily's, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is!"
"It's beautiful."
"It is, isn't it." Marina said wistfully. They walked around the edge beneath the silk trees arching above them, branches dipping into the water and over the very bridge Claude Monet had immortalized in his paintings. As they approached the back of the garden, Marina suddenly pulled Clara off the pathway and, ducking between two bushes, they found themselves in a secluded grassy clearing that afforded them a partial view of the pond without them being visible to the tourists that walked past. A bench was nestled up against a stone wall with fragrant roses on either side, the perfect spot for a lover's picnic. Marina spread the blanket out and patted the spot next to her for Clara to sit. She then opened up the basket and from it pulled out a baguette, cheeses, grapes, pate and an antipasto dish neatly wrapped up. With a flourish, she produced a bottle of champagne. She opened it and poured a glass for each of them.
"To love." Marina said holding up her glass.
"To love." Clara said and they took a sip.
"You hungry?"
"Starving!"
"Then let me feed you."
Marina explained where each cheese came from as she cut it and then tore bite sized pieces off the baguette and fed them to Clara who was barely listening. She was, instead, watching Marina – at how a few strands of hair had come untucked and fell on her cheek. She reached out to push the hair back, her finger tracing her ear, down the skin of her neck. Marina fell silent. Clara edged in until her breast pressed against her arm and bent her head down to kiss the pathway her fingers had made a moment before. Her skin was warm. She resisted the urge to bite that soft flesh. Marina's breath had become shallow and Clara felt something akin to triumph. Knowing she could affect her in this way was heady. She slipped a hand under the loose tunic top, grazing her fingers along the curve of her waist and around her back to the clasp of Marina's bra, carefully undoing it. Marina was sitting perfectly still, champagne glass in her hand, her eyes fluttering close. Clara watched her as her other hand skimmed her belly, sliding up until she felt the tender underside of her breast. She watched as Marina bit her lip, her head tilting ever so slightly up. She felt wicked and daring. This was a revelation for her, to explore the feminine body, to be free to trace the pathways her mind had tread so many times over the past months. It made her heart beat faster and her breath short. There was a heat in her stomach, a tingling of her skin. Her hand cupped the silky soft breast. She could feel the puckered nipple pressing against the palm of her hand as she caressed it slowly, marveling at the weight of it. They kissed in their hidden alcove, slow and deep, fanning an ache that had smouldered for months. Marina pushed Clara down onto the blanket, sliding on top of her, their kisses becoming more urgent. Clara's arms wrapped around Marina's waist.
Then Marina pulled away and Clara reached up to cup her face.
"Marina,come back -" she growled.
"Shhhhhh. Listen."
Frowning, Clara did so. She heard the crunch of footsteps on the path nearby. It grew louder and then they could hear voices drifting from between the bushes. She tensed.
"Don't worry, they can't see us." Marina murmured.
"Oh my God!" Clara whispered covering her face with her hands as the footsteps receded. She laughed.
"You're impossible, Clarinha! You rob me of my common sense, you know that?"
"You're the one who is impossible. If you weren't so damned sexy..."
Clara slid her hands up the back of Marina's top and hooked the bra back on, her hands coming to rest on her hips, enjoying the weight of Marina on top of her.
"But maybe here isn't the best place...speaking of which. Tell me, why did you bring me here?"
Marina shifted so that she was tucked into Clara's side and she rested her head on her shoulder. She was quiet a moment as she traced Clara's collarbone delicately with the tips of her fingers.
"See that over there?" Marina said as she pointed to the bench between the roses. "There's a plaque on there dedicated to my mother. We used to come here, you know, when I was younger, just the two of us. She loved Claude Monet's paintings and would make substantial contributions to the society here."
"Oh." Clara said. She knew Marina's mother was dead but they'd never spoken about it.
"This is where she gave me my first camera, when I was eleven years old. This was before digital, so it was one of those camera's that took film and we spent the afternoon here, taking photos. I must have gone through 5 rolls at least."
Clara rubbed circles on Marina's back as she listened to the quiet, wistful tone of her voice.
"I'll always remember that afternoon, Clara. It was the last time she was well enough to travel, the last time we got to do something really special together, before the doctors and hospital and chemo. Every time I come to Paris, I like to come here. It makes me feel closer to her. And I just wanted to share that with you." she finished shrugging a little
"I'm honoured, Marina."
Marina tilted her head and kissed Clara's cheek.
"I want you to know these things about me."
"How old were you when she passed?"
"Twelve. She died only a few months after my birthday. She had liver cancer."
"You know I lost my dad when I was thirteen, right? From a heart attack?"
"I knew he was dead but didn't know anything else..."
"It was at Helena's wedding. With everything going on with Laerte, it was too much for him and he collapsed. We all crowded around him... and watched him die...I guess I don't really like to talk about it too much. It was such a horrible time for our family..."
"And I know you don't like to dwell on bad things."
"No. I like to look for the positive in situations and there wasn't much positive in that."
"How was it for you?"
"Awful. Our family didn't cope very well."
"At least you had a family. I only had dad and he was wonderful, don't get me wrong, but it was very lonely."
"Do you miss her?"
"So much! Every day. I'm positive I can feel her sometimes, you know, like she's with me, looking over me. Especially when I'm here."
"I miss my dad too. I wonder how things would have been different if he was still alive."
"Those sorts of things change you, don't they? I know that mum's death shaped so much of who I am today."
"I can imagine. I remember as my dad lay there, he was holding Helena's hand, looking up at her, I remember what he said so clearly – he told her to be happy. I think about that often."
They fell silent as Clara continued to rub soothing circles on Marina's back, letting the sounds of the honeybees and birds cradle them in the warm spring air.
xxx
They drank champagne, ate the food and, hand in hand, they walked around the garden. There was a tenderness to the afternoon, a softness that came from a deepening understanding of the other. As they drove back to the hotel they said little, there was no need. Clara rested her hand on Marina's thigh and watched the dusk outside settle into night, the road falling away beneath them, just them two and Marina felt peace in her heart she hadn't known she could feel. It was a sense of completeness, simple and assured. There was no need for more than this. It was like her heart had been holding it's breath and now she could finally breath. It felt good.
At the door of their hotel room they stood in an embrace. Marina's nose grazed Clara's cheek.
"Sleep in my arms, tonight, Clara?"
"I'd like that. So much. Let me shower and call Ivan first, though."
"I'll be waiting for you in bed." she said.
Translations:
*. Hello Madam. I am Marina Mereille. I believe...
**. Ah yes, Marina, welcome! I'll just quickly go and get it
***. There you go, have fun!