CultOfTheBlackVirgin (28 page)

Without really speaking to each other, Iris and Sarah settled into the room, spacing themselves out among the dormitory-styled beds. Jo was too exhausted to try to break through the armor of their silence. After changing clothes, Sarah announced to the floorboards, “I’m going downstairs for a game of chess with Edward,” leaving the two enemies together. Iris left abruptly afterwards, not bothering to say a word as she banged the door shut behind her.

Jo breathed a sigh of relief. She tried to nap, but found no solace in rest. After a few minutes she got up and spent an hour bathing, washing and drying her hair, and lightly making up her face. There were unfamiliar dark circles under her eyes. As she tried to cover them with make-up, she noticed that her face was looking thinner.

Almost too thin
.
I’m going to have to eat more if I’m going to be getting so much exercise.

It was true—her clothes were getting a bit loose on her. A little more flesh would probably do her good.

Well, today was not a day to play the shrinking violet, she decided. If people were angry with her, and if Iris and Carol were going to be sending evil glances her way for the next few days, and if the Evans were so bloody concerned about something that wasn’t anywhere near their business, then she would dress appropriately. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out the splurge outfit she’d bought in Paris. It was too dressy, so she hadn’t worn it earlier in the week. It was also too sexy, and too absolutely gorgeous.

The slender silk skirt cut on the bias with a flirty little flounce at the knee had fit perfectly two weeks earlier, and although it was now a little loose around the hips, it made her ass look fabulous, she knew. She slipped on a flesh-colored thong, which worked perfectly. She paired the skirt with a snug-fitting sleeveless knit lace top with an elegant high neckline. Its classic ivory color picked up the darker tone of the skirt, and complemented her tanned complexion beautifully. Simple gold jewelry finished the look.

The formality of the dress required a hairdo, she decided, so she spent time carefully pinning her thick hair up in pretty twists and turns. When she was done she stepped into her strappy sandals and assessed her image in the mirror. She was ready.

Armed with her beauty and the happiness that flooded her body every time she thought of her lover, she walked regally into the bar. Everyone was sitting with a drink at hand. Luc immediately caught her eye, but she looked right through him, a plastic smile pasted onto her face.

“Ah, so here’s our American beauty, at last,” crooned Peter as she sat down beside him. He, at least, wasn’t shunning her. If anything, he was more flattering, bolder in his leering.

Jo ordered a drink, which she intended to nurse through the next hour. She had to avoid getting tipsy. She knew she needed all her faculties to keep things from falling apart over the next few days while she schemed how to get what she wanted.

A few minutes later, their hostess,
Madame
Guillmont
, hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on her cane. She was a funny duck. A true eccentric, she enjoyed meeting new people and trying to shock them by confessing the most intimate details of her personal life. Surviving three husbands, she was now widowed for the last time. She swore it
would
be the last time, too, as if anyone would doubt her. After all, wasn’t she getting too old for such nonsense, being in her seventies?

Luc introduced her to everyone but she seemed to take special interest in the lovely
Mademoiselle
Clifford. The old woman pushed her way into Jo’s face and monopolized her attention. She asked Jo all about her love life. And despite the directness of the old woman’s questioning, Jo warmed to her and began to loosen up a little. She told her all about James, making him seem some sort of super-human boyfriend, the kind most girls could only dream of. She noticed that Luc was straining to hear everything she said.

When
Madame
asked how she and James had met, Jo began to tell the story, noticing that all of a sudden everyone in the room was her audience.

“Well, it was fortuitous, you could say. I was invited on a Seattle harbor cruise to watch a fireworks display one night last spring. I didn’t know the owner of the boat, but I joined my parents and my aunt Marcella and a few others for a little champagne and some sightseeing. After awhile my aunt, as usual, embarrassed me by calling out across the deck,
Oh Joa-nn-a! There’s someone here who wants to me-e-t you. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you for the last hour!

“Of course I turn red and look over to see who she’s put on the spot this time—besides me, I mean.”

Jo laughed as remembered her favorite aunt’s habit of cutting through social niceties to get to the meaty stuff.

“And I saw this handsome and rather over-dressed man who should have been blushing even more than I was. But he wasn’t. That was James.”

“And what did he do then?” asked Glenda, obviously enjoying the story.

“Cool as can be he just walked over and introduced himself, first to me, then to my aunt, and that was that. We’ve been together ever since.”

“So when are you going to make it legal?” injected a slightly tipsy Marcie.

Jo felt Luc’s glare burning into her. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe next year,” she mumbled as she took a deep drink from her wine glass.

The crowd eventually went back to its own business and Jo looked at Luc. He was ignoring her, standing next to
madame,
his arm draped loosely around her bent shoulders. It was obvious he was one of the old widow’s favorite patrons. She was telling everyone how much she looked forward to Luc’s visits, and that she always had a special bottle of wine waiting for him.

At eight,
their hostess took Luc by the arm and
ushered the group into the dining room, promising an excellent meal. As a result of hearing Jo’s story, the group’s dynamic had shifted. She seemed to have vindicated herself, at least a little. Everyone was more relaxed, she thought. Except her lover—she sensed a restrained tension in him.

She tucked herself safely into a corner seat beside Thomas and Ellen and concentrated on being a model of virtue. A sexy model of virtue. She ordered the veal
Provençal
and drank only one more glass of wine. And she made a point of speaking to every single person as she ate, even Iris, who was forced to respond.

Over dinner Luc was quieter than usual. Most of his conversation was in French, as he chatted up their hostess, who hovered behind his chair at the head of the table. This pleased
Madame
to no end. She babbled and fawned and giggled like a girl. It made Jo happy to see him behaving so generously. She suspected that, like James, he was a kind man.

The meal restored Jo a little, and she was able to put the day in perspective. Not all was lost, much was won. Yes, she was scared, but she was also happy. So she had the morals of a Tijuana street dog. But life had never been richer. She had never been living so fully.

And although everybody knows, they haven’t burned me at the stake yet. As long as I behave myself tonight, I might escape unscathed. Luc still wants me—I can see that—and God knows I want him.

Edward, sitting across from her, ventured a comment. “You seem very gay tonight, Joanna. How do you think you’ll manage sharing a room?”

She turned her shiny, happy eyes onto her neighbor and confessed that she had no problem sharing, and that she’d actually welcome the company. Lying was becoming so easy to her now that she didn’t feel a shred of shame.

As Edward began to tell her of other parts of France that he and Glenda had visited, Jo’s mind began to drift back to Luc.

Maybe tomorrow. In the afternoon, somehow.
The schedule promised some free time then.

After coffee, some of the diners, including Luc, lingered over a glass of brandy. Jo didn’t take the brandy, but she used the extra time spent at the table to look around the intimate, candlelit room, built of stone and enormous oak beams. Despite the precarious situation she’d placed herself in, life was so full right now, she was thinking. So rich.

So full of sensual pleasures—the sights, smells, sounds and tastes of the evening were all beautiful. Had she ever noticed how much there was to savor in even the most ordinary of things? A candle’s flame. The shadows it created. The reflection of its light in Luc’s eyes. Off the side of his face. The sound of his laugh. She found she couldn’t stop smiling.

When she shifted her body in the chair, still aching slightly from the pleasure of the last few days, she thought again of the secret she’d discovered about herself. She hadn’t known two people could be so complementary. She felt lucky, blessed even. Even if it was wrong.

It was a harmony, a fusion, the Yin and Yang melding into one another, breaking free of their separating boundaries, if only for a few moments. And Jo knew that although this feeling of harmony—of a perfect connection—had begun a few days ago as something that was just physical, or chemical, it had somehow affected her more profoundly than the intellectual and emotional harmony she felt with James.
Harmony
was the only word Jo could find to describe what she felt. It certainly transcended the purely physical. Again she thought there was a spiritual aspect to what she’d experienced. She was sure of it.

I’d call it love. Yes. Certainly. What other word could even come close to naming it?

Did Luc feel anything remotely similar? Or was it just all about the sex? As she remembered the events of last evening, she felt a tingle begin between her legs, moving upwards into the depths of her body. Was that her uterus, her womb? Asking for more of whatever it was that Luc could give? She suspected that he knew more about her body than she did. And she was glad.

What they shared last night seemed what everybody would wish for when they were trying to conceive a child. A child conceived out of ordinary sex—well—wouldn’t it just be ordinary? A child conceived out of the perfect harmony she had just experienced with Luc—wouldn’t that child be a truly extraordinary love child? Forever reminding both parents of the extraordinary events that led to its creation? Jo was amused at her romantic notions. She’d never thought about such things before.

Soon Thomas and Ellen made their excuses and left. Now Jo could see Luc more clearly at the end of the table, between Sarah and Iris, still shadowed by the bent figure of
Madame Guillmont
.

Surrounded by women.

Jo smiled. How could it be otherwise? He was magnetic—and she too was powerless against his charm. If it were not for the audience all around her, she’d be in his face right now. In his lap. Again.

Although she was physically and emotionally drained, she longed to go to him tonight. She had to speak to him alone. But she didn’t see how she could.

So she had to content herself with looking at him. He looked broodingly back at her each time he sensed her watching him. Her eyes spoke of her desire, and, yes, she could see that he understood.

So did Iris, sitting beside him, Jo noticed.

* * * *

In the space of a few hours Luc’s mood had changed from euphoric to black. That strange feeling of trepidation had returned. It was bad enough he was snared in some complicated web of lust and desire for a client he’d never see again—now Simone was threatening to make things even messier.

She’d called him just before dinner.

“Cherie,
I have a surprise for you!”

“A surprise?”

He was immediately on guard.

“
Oui.
I managed to change my days off so I could be with you for the last two days of your tour!”

“Ah. You did?”

He couldn’t think what else to say.

“I’ve missed you so much. I got over Carcassonne, and I thought it would be fun to walk with you and your group for a few days. Like a little holiday for me.”

Non!

“Um, Simone?”

“What is it? You don’t sound pleased. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not. But I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Oh?”

Merde. What to say? What to say?

“Non, mon amour.
For one thing, we’re staying in a
gîte
in Martel. I have to sleep in a dorm.”

“No matter. We can get a room somewhere else.”

Merde. Merde, Merde!

“
And I wouldn’t have much time for you. I have a lot of babysitting and organizing to do. And you know you don’t like the English. This group is mostly English.”

“I don’t care about any of that. I just want to be with you!”

Silence. What could he say?

“Luc? What’s wrong? You don’t seem to want me there.”

He heard the hurt in her voice and his heart sank. He didn’t want to deal with any of this.

Pas maintenant
.
Not now. We’ve got only two more days together.

Only two more days with Joanna. The thought made him cruel.

“Look, Simone. It would have been a nice surprise any other time—but not this time. I’ve got a grumpy crew and I’m not in the best mood. I just want to get this tour over with and get home, okay? I’ll see you in a few days, and we can do something special later. I promise.”