Ch 87
Guin sat perched on the edge of the chair beside me. The bottle of wine she had brought for Carmen was on the buffet, beside several other bottles of wine and hard liquors.
"How have you been?" she asked me.
"Good. And you?"
She inhaled, dark chocolate eyes staring at my lap first, then lifting to meet my gaze. "I've been better," she said.
I huffed at her remark. If there had been anyone else present in the room, I doubted she would have been so forward. Or perhaps she would have made her interest obvious and given everyone something to talk about at the end of the evening.
"Where is the woman you were with at the restaurant?"
I blankly stared at her, unsure of whom she meant as I'd not noticed Guin at the sandwich shop and felt certain she would make herself known.
Guin gave a humorless laugh. "You really have been good, haven't you, Kimmer? And preoccupied as well, from that expression. I meant the seamstress."
"Abigail," I said.
"Yes, Abigail Soward from Soward Sewing."
I couldn't tell if Guin was aware that the shop was up for sale. Her expression was enigmatic, her eyes locked on mine.
"She moved," I replied.
Immediately I could tell Guin was not aware of the for sale sign.
"Moved?" she questioned.
"Back home with her brother. To Toronto."
"Canada?" Guin arched her brow.
"Yes, last Friday."
She appeared surprised at first, then almost relieved. "What a shame. I believe she fancied you."
"We were friends," I said, repeating the words I had spoken multiple times and still didn't believe.
"Friends with a little more passion involved," Guin said.
I looked away first, the residual feelings from speaking of Abigail with Joshua and Carmen still heavy on my mind. My affection for Abigail had been genuine and unexplored. It felt like the first sprout of green emerging from a long and harsh winter. The sentiment had barely peeked out from the ground when ill fortune had stolen it all away from me, threatening to bury the love I had harbored for her and leave the land barren as I had though I preferred.
Everything felt like a mistake. There would never be an opportunity to profess those feelings, to tell her that I had in fact loved her more than I had realized, more than I would ever allow myself to love anyone else, aside from my brother.
Perhaps in some way Abigail had loved me as well. I would never know if I could have done something years earlier to keep her in my life. If I would have properly courted her, if I had been a respectable man that her brother would have approved of providing for his sister and her children, perhaps she would have still been in Paris.
That was the misery I insisted upon considering, to end my good week with the devastation I had attempted to keep at bay.
Before either of us spoke, Elizabeth burst through the front door and came to a sudden halt in the foyer, completely out of breath. She looked at me and smiled.
"Uncle Phelan!" Her gaze quickly switched to Guin. "And Mademoiselle Guin!"
"What are you doing in such a rush?" I asked.
"My apologies, I thought I was much later than I am," she said quite breathlessly. "Where are Mother and Father?"
"Upstairs. They should be down in a moment."
"I will find them," Elizabeth said.
She scurried up the stairs and I turned to Guin, who looked annoyed by Elizabeth's entrance.
"What were we saying?" she asked.
"I believe it was time to change the subject," I said.
Guin inhaled and leaned forward, her hand grazing my knee. "I will not deny that seeing you here unaccompanied has piqued my interest," she said, her voice low.
My interest was piqued as well, for no other reason than I had experienced far more pain over the last two weeks and not nearly enough pleasure. Physically we were compatible and I enjoyed what we shared intimately. There was really no reason to deny her or myself.
Elizabeth came bounding down the stairs again. "Do either of you need anything?"
"I am perfectly capable of walking to the buffet table," I assured Elizabeth.
"Do you think there are any more cream puffs left?" Guin asked.
Elizabeth inhaled, appearing quite overjoyed to play the hostess. "I will look in the kitchen. One moment, please."
She hurried out of the room and I turned to Guin.
"Aren't there still cream puffs on the–"
She leaned toward me, hands splayed on my thighs and lips hard against mine. "Come home with me," she whispered.
"It's a tempting offer," I murmured.
She smiled against my lips, her tongue prodding mine. "Come home with me and I'll do far more than kiss you with this mouth."
Her words were downright maddening, and the lingering brush of her lips to mine promised unlimited satisfaction in her arms.
"What is keeping you here?" she whispered.
I drew back from Guin and exhaled. "Family," I replied.
If I left suddenly, both Carmen and Joshua would assume it had something to do with our previous conversation regarding Abigail, but if I left with Guin on my arm, they would suspect a different reason. Either way, I had no desire to reopen the wound in the relationship Joshua and I were mutually attempting to repair.
Still, Guin tried to kiss me again, but I placed my hand on her shoulder.
"What?"
"Not in front of Elizabeth."
"She's sixteen," Guin reasoned. "I was doing far worse at her age."
"She is a very young and innocent sixteen," I said.
Guin looked severely disappointed with my answer, but didn't protest as she lowered into her chair once more and crossed her arms just as my niece returned.
"There were none in the–" Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "Mademoiselle Guin, there are plenty right here."
"I must not have seen them," Guin replied, her gaze sliding to me. "My apologies, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth was far too pleased to be the hostess to be upset. She started to sit when the doorbell rang again and she instead gleefully clasped her hands.
"More people!" she said, running to the foyer.
Guin leaned toward me. "Are you coming back with me or am I wasting my time?" she asked.
I sat back and eyed her. "I should let you know that I sustained an injury to my left arm last weekend."
"Is the rest of you in working order?" she asked, her gaze once again drawn to my lap.
"As far as I know," I answered.
She shrugged. "I have no further concerns. Is my time wasted, Kimmer?"
"No," I replied. "Your time is not wasted, Guin."
oOo
Carmen and Joshua returned downstairs, allowing Elizabeth to maintain her position as hostess, which she very much appreciated. There were five couples in all and another woman who was single and only stayed for a brief time to say hello to Carmen.
Despite how tired she appeared, Carmen seemed in high spirits and remained downstairs and with the party guests until seven-thirty, at which time most of the people began to collect their coats and see themselves out while Josuha took Carmen back upstairs for the night.
I followed them to the stairs and kissed Carmen on the cheek. "A pleasure seeing you, Carmen," I said.
She lifted her hand, placing her ice cold fingers onto my jaw, caressing me lightly. "I'm glad you made it," she said. "I hope we didn't upset you earlier."
I shook my head. "Not at all. I will see you Wednesday when I pick up Elizabeth for tennis lessons."
Carmen frowned at me. "You spoil that girl."
"Which I shall never deny doing," I replied.
Joshua took Carmen's hand. "I understand if you must leave before I return, but thank you, Phelan, for coming tonight."
"Of course," I said, watching them slowly ascend the stairs hand in hand.
Joshua was quite tender with his wife, holding her hand throughout the evening and smiling at her every chance he had to meet her eye. It reminded me of their early months together, when Joshua had pursued Carmen, making his intentions known that he wanted her for his wife and would do anything to please her.
The courtship had lasted into their marriage. I wasn't sure when it had stopped, but there were small moments where they no longer seemed to notice one another as they once did.
Gyda and Bjorn were not good examples of what a loving relationship looked like and Alak's wife had died, making Joshua and Carmen the only couple turned husband and wife that I knew well and I had been convinced that my cousin would dote on his wife until his last dying breath.
Seeing them leave the parlor, it appeared as though Joshua was attempting to be the husband Carmen deserved until her last breath, which I feared was much closer than anyone wanted.
"Oh!" I heard Elizabeth say from the foyer. "The newspaper has arrived." She turned, looking for a place to set it, when I stood and stepped toward her.
"I'll take it," I said, holding out my hand.
She gave it to me without question and began tidying up the parlor while Guin sat with her ankles crossed, watching me in silence.
"I'll return in a moment," I said to the two of them before I briskly made my way down the hall and into the dining room where I walked to the furthest corner from the entrance and unfolded the paper.
My heart raced, palms sweating as I held my breath and waited for the sound of footsteps, concerned one of them would follow me. Once I was certain I was alone, I inhaled and opened the paper.
The composite sketch was on the second page, the image of Erik accompanied by the headline 'The REAL Phantom'.
The Opera Ghost, whose true identity has been the ongoing subject of speculation, has not been seen since Friday April the 23rd.
He is considered a danger to public safety and should not be approached under any circumstances as his preferred method of murder is via strangulation.
The individual in question is described as six feet three inches, one hundred and twenty pounds, with green eyes, dark, thin hair in patches and a facial scar covering the entire right side of his face and across a portion of his right temple and skull.
I re-read the paragraph, thinking Erik was a half-inch shorter than me, but far thinner. He had appeared emaciated, and I thought one hundred and twenty pounds may have been a little generous.
He may be wearing a mask and a hairpiece to conceal his ghastly appearance. It is believed the 'Opera Ghost' is still in Paris or the surrounding area as all train personnel have been instructed to restrict or impede his travel.
If spotted, contact Chief Alonzo or any gendarme on patrol. A reward of fifty thousand francs for his capture, dead or alive, will be awarded to the public.
Please help us locate this vicious murderer before he kills again.
Wiping my hand down my face, I cursed under my breath and folded the paper again, tucking it beneath my arm.
My mouth went dry, my very worst fears confirmed. With the image of my brother circulating, all of Paris would be searching for the man with half a face, a cold-blooded killer on the loose who deserved to be found and ripped limb from limb.
There was no way I could possibly leave the newspaper behind as Joshua would know it was Erik the moment he saw the image. He would see it and ask me why I hadn't told him that Erik was responsible for the opera house disaster.
If I attempted to make up a story, I was certain that Joshua would see through my lies. There would be no explaining myself. He would be furious with me as I couldn't imagine him being level-headed and understanding over something so significant.
I wasn't sure if Joshua would pay a visit to Chief Alonzo and inform the Chief of Police that he not only knew the identity of the Opera Ghost, but that we were both related to him, but I had no desire to risk it.
The situation would turn into a disaster far beyond my ability to comprehend, much less cope with the aftermath. I had to keep the paper from him for as long as possible in hopes that my cousin would still believe the opera ghost was Hamish from the bank, not Erik, his long lost cousin.
Deception, I reasoned, was the only way to prevent the complete destruction of our relationship.
"Erik," I whispered to myself. "My God, how in the hell can this possibly be happening?"
Without thinking I reached for my left arm and drew my hand away, inhaling sharply before I put pressure onto the bruise and nerve damage. The pain I had once welcomed I suddenly dreaded, afraid that what had always been sharp and acute would become an unbearable, consistent throb.
No, I reminded myself, placing my right hand gently over my left sleeve. No, I cannot ever do that again. Not even when it has healed.
I sucked in a breath, held it, and exhaled, but I was not in a position to meditate and the action did nothing to calm me.
Unable to leave the newspaper behind, I removed the page with the sketch and folded into a small enough square to fit into my pocket before I walked down the hall and into the parlor, leaving the rest of the paper on the coffee table.
Joshua started down the stairs as I began moving chairs back into their original places, needing something to keep me preoccupied.
"No, Phelan, you don't have to do that," Joshua said. "Please, I insist. You're our guest."
"I don't mind," I said, feeling as though I needed to do something for my cousin considering I had stolen part of his newspaper.
Joshua eyed Guin, who was the only guest remaining, then turned his attention back to me.
"I suppose you do owe me," he said to me, his gaze briefly settling on the coffee table.
My heart stuttered. I pressed my palm to my trouser pocket and the single page of the paper I had taken.
"I beg your pardon?" I practically stammered.
Joshua offered a closed-lipped smile in return. "For all of the food you consumed," he answered, nodding at my empty plate beside the newspaper. "Now, help me with this chair."
The dining room chair wasn't particularly heavy or awkward, but I still grabbed the backrest while he took the front legs. We both held it off the ground, with him walking backwards toward the dining room and me attempting to walk at reasonable pace when I felt like running.
"Careful with the walls," he said.
"We could not be more centered if we tried."
"Good," he cheerfully replied.
Something about his tone was off, but I wasn't sure why as I was certain he had no idea I'd taken the second page of the newspaper. We delivered the chair to its rightful spot and I turned to exit when he stood in front of me.
"What is this?" I asked, heart hammering.
"Phelan," he said, keeping his voice low and hands in his pockets. "Are you leaving with Celeste?"
I nearly sighed in relief. "I am walking her home," I said, finding it extraordinarily easy to tell him a half-truth.
"And are you intending to go inside her apartment and…visit?"
I didn't answer, which I suppose told Joshua all he wanted to know.
My cousin exhaled.
"What?" I questioned.
"I thought you would wait a while considering Madame Soward has only been gone a week."
"What does Abigail have to do with anything?" I asked.
Joshua paused, lips pursed. "I suppose I thought you would take some time to consider the loss."
"We were friends," I insisted. "Friends and nothing more. Quite frankly, I don't understand why this needs to be brought up yet again."
"You loved her," Joshua blurted out. "You may not wish to admit it, but you were very fond of her and I can tell that you are mourning that loss, even if you cannot see it."
"I'm not," I said under my breath, feeling quite defensive. "I'm not mourning the loss of someone who…who mended my clothes and made alterations. That's absolutely preposterous and you know it."
"It's not preposterous and you know it. She was more than a seamstress. Phelan, why can't you just say that you were fond of her?"
"Is that what you want me to say? Fine. I was fond of her. And now she's gone, there's nothing I can do that will make her return to Paris, and I don't see a reason to mourn what cannot be undone."
The aching would slowly destroy me. I made a conscious effort to return to numbness, to a place of unfeeling where I was immune to loss.
Joshua narrowed her eyes. "You act like she was meaningless."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I am acting in the appropriate fashion of someone whose friend is sailing back home to her groom."
Joshua's lips parted. "She told you she was getting married? When did that happen?"
I felt as though I was sinking into a giant pit of mud with no possible chance of escape, my body sinking lower and lower.
"I heard from the men at the hardware store down the street from her shop," I replied.
"That sounds like gossip to me.
"Her brother Howard told them."
Joshua's eyes filled with sympathy. "She didn't tell you herself?"
"No," I said, feeling myself start to drown. "No, that was not something she ever discussed with me."
Saying it out loud was more devastating than I had imagined.
"I am so terribly sorry to hear this. That is…that is very difficult for me to hear. I can't imagine what you must be feeling."
"What should I feel?" I snapped.
"Quite a bit, I would think."
I shrugged. "I doubt I have crossed her mind."
"Phelan, that isn't true at all. Why would you say something so awful?"
"As I said, she's gone and there is no use in worrying about it now."
Joshua searched my face and I turned from him, wary of what he would see the longer he stared at me.
"I am taking Mademoiselle Guin back to her apartment. Anything that happens after that is not your concern."
"Phelan," he said.
I glanced at him. "What?"
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Have you seen her? Why shouldn't I want to be with her?"
Joshua exhaled. "Are you sure this is wise?"
I returned a humorless laugh. "I certainly hope not."
He frowned at me, and I knew he had more to say to me, but chose not to say it. There was more I wished to say to him, but I knew it would result in an argument and I had no intention of holding back the words that were on the tip of my tongue.
Without another word, he walked out of the dining room. I waited until I heard him speak to Eliza before I did the same, offering my arm and a wicked smile in Guin's direction, desperate for the distraction I knew she could provide.
oOo
The two hours I spent with Celeste Guin were mindless and more satisfying on a physical level than I had ever experienced before and doubted I ever would again.
We undressed each other at the door and failed to make it into her bedroom, finding the aptly named loveseat and kitchen table perfectly suited for what we both wanted.
When we did finally make it into her bedroom, it was to briefly recover our senses before she made good on her promise to use her lips elsewhere leaving me truly boneless and spent, chest heaving and senses flooded with the languid pleasure that followed release.
"One more round?" she asked as we lay side by side, tangled in each other's arms bare flesh pressed against one another.
"I don't know what kind of men you've been with in the past, but I can barely remember my own name. Any further satisfaction is not coming from there," I said, pulling her hand away from where she touched me and placing it over my heart.
"I have faith in you, Kimmer," she whispered against my lips, her hand leaving my chest in favor of a much lower region of my body that wanted to prove me wrong.
Twenty minutes later and she was draped over me, panting heavily, the last pulses of pleasure rippling through both of us. It didn't seem possible to experience such an overwhelming amount of satisfaction in one night, but it was far better than the misery I feared waited for me back in my own home.
"It's good to be wrong, isn't it?" she asked, rolling onto the bed beside me. She raked her fingers through the hair on my chest, circling further and further down.
"Indeed."
"You're leaving soon, aren't you?" she asked.
I inhaled, noting that it was already ten. "I cannot leave Elvira for the entire night," I said. "And as you know, that's a bird and not my wife."
"I suppose it's to the benefit of every woman in Paris that you remain unattached," she said, making a valiant effort to tempt me one last time.
I kissed her hard on the lips, rolling onto her, my belly pressed to hers. "Is that so?" I growled in her ear.
She gazed up at me, full lips swollen from kisses, long, black hair fanned out around her face. Her thighs parted, hips tilted up, body shivering with anticipation.
"I like this side of you," she said between hard breaths as I gathered her wrists and placed them over her head.
"You make me want you," I admitted, kissing her again. I wanted everything about her, every bit of distraction.
"Once more," she whispered, reaching between our bodies.
She made certain there was no space between us, that our bodies became one. "You're truly insatiable," I said, feeling her legs wrap around me.
"As are you," she sighed, urging me closer, "it's why we're so good together, Kimmer."
oOo
It was midnight by the time I finally returned home and put Elvira straight to bed in her cage. The walk back to my apartment seemed longer than it should have despite moving at a brisk pace, my thoughts no longer kept at bay in the back of my mind.
Once I cleaned my teeth, washed my face, and changed into pajamas, I took one last look at the composite sketch of Erik.
"This is not what I wanted," I said to him, like we were back in our shared room in Conforeit, whispering to one another in the dark.
There were a lot of aspects of my life that my statement covered. If I had not been addressing a sketch, perhaps I would have elaborated.
The sight of Erik was more than I could bear, and I tossed the open page onto my nightstand. Lamp turned down, I pulled the covers up to my neck and closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, which had not once worked in all of the years I had tried to convince my mind to shut off.
I forced myself to take a long, deep breath and held it, feeling unsettled now that I was in bed alone. Slowly I exhaled, surrounded by the thoughts and images that I had been able to block out and ignore in my cousin's house for game night and a while longer in Guin's apartment.
The quiet and the darkness, however, opened the Pandora's Box of my deepest, most inevitable misery.
I missed Abigail, and I regretted speaking of her in a way that was so flippant. I missed her smile and her laughter, I missed how easy it was to speak to her and even the chaos that was her disorganized little shop.
My heart ached in a way that I had always reserved for Erik. I wanted to see Abigail one more time, to ask her if leaving had been her choice, if she would be content with Oliver Bertam.
That was all I truly wished to know: Are you happy with him? Can he give you the life that you want? The life that you deserve?
He can certainly give me more than you ever would, I heard her say in my thoughts.
I exhaled a long, trembling breath. I doubted Abigail would say that to my face, but I didn't doubt that was how she felt. I had not given her a reason to stay.
It would have been easier if I had kept our relationship the same as all the others; physical and nothing more. Her sudden move from France to Canada would not have had the impact that I had unfortunately allowed.
And yet I would still be here alone in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to fill the loneliness.
I had no recollection of falling asleep, but I woke at almost five with a headache, a sore arm and tingling fingers from my wrist held at an odd angle that prevented proper blood flow.
It was a new week, one that I sincerely doubted would be as good as the previous one, mostly because I didn't know if I had the desire to put forth the effort.