Jezebel (10 page)

Gabriel pulled into a small driveway that accommodated his car but not much more.
What was he up to?
He motioned for her to stay put so she did. She watched as he jogged around to her door and opened it for her. He looked like he could grace the cover of a magazine even in his faded jeans with a hole in one knee and his black V-neck sweater. He led her to the bottom step of the tall, narrow house.

“Gabriel?” she questioned.

He folded in half and scooped her up bridal style. Taking the stairs slowly she clung to his warm, firm body. At the door, he dug one hand in his pocket while holding her and unlocked the front door. Celeste had no words. She wasn’t sure if this was a rental for the night or if Gabriel had done something much, much more permanent before knowing if she’d have said yes.

“I kind of always wanted to do that,” he admitted as they stepped into the foyer.

She met his eyes. “What?”

“Carry you over our threshold,” he whispered.

“Our?” she asked.

“Ours,” he stated firmly.

“Like, to rent?” she pushed.

“Like we own,” he clarified. Shell-shocked, Celeste turned her head a fraction to the left, then right, before her lips tipped upwards into an enormous grin.

“Oh, oh oh oh,” she panted. Celeste was at a loss for words as he spun them around slowly giving her a glimpse of the house. This was theirs. Theirs. Hers. His. She could hardly catch a breath.

“I hope
oh
is a good thing.”

“The best,” she answered peppering his face with small kisses.

“No, the best is waiting,” he said. He set her down and with a smile that showcased his dimple he her tugged hurriedly down a hallway to a set of French Doors. Pushing through, she followed him outside. She watched as he searched around for a moment, one hand fumbling against the outside of the house. His brow was furrowed and he huffed as he tried to find it. He looked adorable.

Suddenly lights flicked on and filled the space with a soft ambiance. Celeste gasped at the perfection that was their back yard. She stepped from the small deck down two steps to the grass in a trance-like state trying to take it all in. Trees lined the property giving them ample privacy. The rest of the space was vast and untouched. She could create the most beautiful getaway here. One lone potted plant sat in the grass near her feet. Gloxinia.

“I hear it means love at first sight or something like that.” Gabriel’s voice rang out in the quiet night. It surrounded her, enveloped her entire body and made her feel warm and fuzzy.

“Gabriel Fontaine, I think it’s time for you to make love to me.” She crooked a finger at him beckoning him to her.

“Here?” he asked pointing to where she stood. Celeste felt bold and lust-drunk. She nodded yes and smiled coyly. He all but bounded down the steps to her. She laughed as he tackled her to the ground gently.

Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip gently as he rocked his hips against her with slow, but aggressive, abandon. The moon illuminated the inky black sky. The grass was cool against her back and the stars overhead shone brilliantly. He moved over her fluidly. Touching all the right spots. A firm but gentle lover. His rhythmic thrusts hurdled her into oblivion until she was no longer thinking, just reacting, primal in nature, to the motion of his body and the touch of his hands.

In the moment she fell apart beneath him, she knew her life consisted of what sayings were coined from, because this was
as good as it got.
She clung to him, letting the waves of pleasure crash over her, not wanting the feeling, or him, to leave her. She wanted to live in this moment forever, or at the very least, capture it and stow it away deep inside her heart. Something in her soul told her she’d be full of these moments in the years to come. That Gabriel would fill her up to the brim with happiness, love and joy. She clung to that thought as he kissed her again.

Chapter 9

Annabelle

“And then you walked through the door. And my life turned black.”

~ L’ame Immortelle—Betrayal

“So he proposed when she was drunk?” Annabelle’s words reeked of disdain as they cut through the air.

“Well, hate to break it to you kid, but not all proposals are picture perfect. But, I will say this, she’d only had four drinks before Gabriel swooped in to steal her away, and there was plenty of time walking to the garden for her to sober up a bit.”

“I still think it’s lame. He should have waited.”

“Well, what’s done is done—can’t go back and change history, now can we?” Jezebel answered.

Annabelle shrugged. “Nope.”

“What are your plans for this week?” Jezebel asked.

“I don’t know. It seems I’m single, grounded and pathetic.”

“Buck up child. Your life is not over. You should be happy that you ditched the loser before it got serious. I’d say you dodged a bullet.”

Annabelle smiled. Maybe the woman was right. “Yeah, probably,” she admitted.

“Not probably—absolutely. Now, indulge me, what do you do while you aren’t visiting me?”

“School and homework. I need a hobby or something to keep me busy at home.”

“Music! Listen to music. Dance around and be silly.”

“I have music.”

“Learn to cook! You are allowed to use the kitchen, aren’t you?” Jezebel asked.

“I am. Yeah. And my mom’s cooking blows, so that’s not a terrible idea.” She admitted.

“Brava darling. Now, go home and whip up dinner for your parents. Maybe you’ll even get them to smile before the night is out.”

Annabelle slid her sneakers on and stretched. Jezebel stuffed her feet into slippers and pulled a blanket across her lap. Stopping in the threshold Annabelle turned.

“See you next Tuesday Jez.” Jezebel lifted a hand, her long slender fingers waved Annabelle off.

Annabelle sang along to the lyrics of the music that played in the kitchen. The floorboards creaked slightly under her feet as she walked from the stove to the refrigerator and back. The lace curtains danced in the breeze at the open window by the opposite counter. A swirl of Spring air gently worked its way around the kitchen. It would just be her mom and her tonight. Her father wasn’t due home for another week.

Annabelle whipped together a heavy cream sauce per the recipe. Her mother’s book club had ended and she was going to walk through the door any moment. Annabelle wanted everything to be close to finished before then. The table was set, just the way her mom liked it: candles lit, plates, utensils and napkins at their settings and the overhead light set to dim. She lifted the cover off the pot. Steam billowed up, snaking white tendrils that danced in the air. She put the pasta in the boiling water and set the timer for ten minutes. Everything else was done. The Carbonara only needed the pasta to be ready. It even smelled perfect. Pride brimmed in her heart. Cooking was kind of fun.

Heels clacked on the hardwood floor signaling her mother’s arrival. A pang of anxiety shot through her.
Would she be impressed or would she be irritated?

“Wow,” her mother stated as she entered the kitchen. “What’s all this?”

“I was bored, so I tried my hand at cooking?” Annabelle wasn’t sure if her question was a statement or vice versa. Her mother chuckled.

“Well, let’s hope you got your father’s cooking skills and not mine.” Annabelle’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Why the face? You couldn’t honestly believe that I wasn’t aware of how awful my cooking is.”

“You know?” Annabelle crowed.

Her mother’s laugh, light and breezy filled the air. “Oh yes. I know.”

“Why do you make us all suffer then?”

Her mother shrugged. “I’m bored. Cooking, or trying to gives me something to do.”

The honesty in her mother’s words hit Annabelle in the chest. All this time, how did she not notice how broken each of them was? Was she really so focused on only herself?

“But,” she started, “you never got better.” Now it was her mother’s turn to look shocked. They stared at each other a moment before both doubled over laughing. Warmth crept in, filling Annabelle’s soul with a light and airy feeling. The timer dinged and Annabelle turned the burner off before carrying the pot to the sink and draining the water from the pasta.

“You know what I
am
good at?” Her mother asked.

“What?” she answered.

“Getting the serving bowl out.”

Annabelle smiled as she watched her mother retrieve a serving dish before filling it with the sauce she’d made. Annabelle added the pasta and her mother stirred it all together before bumping her hip to Annabelle’s and carrying their dinner to the table.

Annabelle smiled as she chewed. “Could we read tonight? I know it’s silly . . . but—“

“What did you want to read?” her mother asked, grinning. She resumed eating while waiting for Annabelle to answer. She thought on it and remembered how when she was younger, before life was altered, her mother used to read her chapters from an old book. Annabelle swallowed her last bite.

“Would you do a chapter aloud from
Little Women?
” she asked feeling hopeful.

Her mother nodded and smiled as she walked to the bookshelf in the den. Annabelle hurried after her, following her lead and leaving the dirty dinner plates on the table.

“I love you Belle.” The words created a cavernous ache deep in her chest but she didn’t quite understand why. Maybe it was simply because it had been too long since she’d heard them said. Maybe it was something else entirely.

Fighting the emotional overload, she replied, “I love you too.”

Her mother pulled her into her warm embrace and held her as she melted into her mother’s side. Without hesitation, she laid her head on her mother’s shoulder and listened to her narrate one of Annabelle’s favorite stories. Her mother kissed the top of her head and Annabelle’s breath caught in her chest. As she settled in, the rain became a soft hiss behind her mother’s words.

The grandfather clock sat in the corner near the door, tall and stately, marking the unwavering constant of time as it ticked past, second by second. It chimed nine times marking the time and woke Annabelle from her nap. She was tucked into her mother’s side still. The book lay open but flat on her mother’s chest, which rose and fell steadily as she slept.

Annabelle grinned and laid her head back down. She pulled a throw from the back of the couch and pulled it over them both before settling back to sleep.

~
***
~

She woke in the best mood she could remember in a long time even though she was alone on the couch. Stretching her neck and arms she pushed up and off the couch to head upstairs. She counted each gleaming mahogany step as she went. As she entered her bedroom she thought of Jezebel. There seemed to be an unconscious pull to the woman, a call that she desperately wanted to answer. Part of her attributed her family’s slow but steady progress of fixing their broken bonds to Jezebel. Another part genuinely liked the woman. She looked forward to her Tuesdays now. She liked listening to Jezebel’s story and liked the conversations they always seemed to find themselves in.

A warm breeze blew through her brown hair. Today after school she would ask her mom if she would take her to Skillins Nursery to buy Jezebel a plant for her windowsill. She wanted to do something nice for her. She wanted to make the woman smile and possibly feel less alone during the week.

The day ticked by in minutes instead of hours, dragging excessively. By the time school let out Annabelle felt worn out from the effort it took to will the day by. She gathered what she needed from her locker and slammed the door shut.

“Hey!” Madison called. Annabelle spun around to face her friend.

“Hi.”

“How’re things? I feel like we never talk anymore.” Madison frowned.

Annabelle knew the feeling. Being cut off from her best friend hurt. She worried that by the time she was allowed to do
anything
Madison would be gone. Gone to school or just moved on—gone. “Yeah. It sucks. But, I’m alright. I mean, bored a lot but the volunteer gig isn’t so bad. Jezebel and I spend my time in her room. I just listen to her talk.”

They moved together down the hall. Madison’s sneakers squeaked on the linoleum flooring. “Is she really old?”

“No. She’s actually like, my parents’ age and she’s kinda cool. I like her.”

“What does she talk about?” Madison asked.

“Life. I guess. Mostly she tells a story about some lady from Paris in the Eighties.”

Madison’s brow furrowed. “Sounds . . .”

“Lame,” Annabelle giggled. Because it did. But it wasn’t. Not at all. “I guess you have to be there to get it. I swear though, she’s pretty interesting.”

“Hey!” Madison chirped. “You can’t go out and I can’t go to your house, but . . . can I come to a volunteer day with you? Maybe we could hang that way.”

Annabelle liked the idea but wasn’t sure if it would fly. Sure anyone could volunteer at Glenview but her gut grew anxious at the thought of sharing Jezebel. The woman seemed like magic somehow and she, quite frankly, wanted to keep her all to herself.

“Yeah,” she answered instead of saying no. “Tuesday, after school. Room two-oh-eight. I have to take the bus but meet me there.”

“This’ll be fun! I mean, I’m not going to do it every week, but I miss you, Belle. And it’ll be nice just to hang out for an afternoon.”

Annabelle smiled at her friend. It would be nice, and maybe Jezebel would like the extra company too. She hurried to the bus and waved bye to Madison who was parked in the student lot. Another reminder of her punishment, she was reduced to riding the bus again. She sighed and climbed up and onto the bus that perpetually reeked of garlic.

~
***
~

It had been raining for five days straight. Her boots created puddles on the floor as she stepped across the foyer. Her mother would be pissed at the mess. The overcast sky mimicked her mood. She’d been naïve in thinking that her home life was looking up. Friday, she’d heard her mother on the phone, presumably with her father, and it had left a sour feeling in the pit of her belly. She kicked off her boots and trudged upstairs. Her mother had gone from lighthearted to glum after she hung up. There had been no more music in the kitchen, no more shared moments after dinner and no more cheer in the air. There had only been silence. Again.

Annabelle had tried everything Jezebel had encouraged her too. She’d listened to music, she’d smiled non-stop and she’d tried to strike up easy conversation with her mom but it was all met with a pinched expression and not much else.

She didn’t understand it. She scooped up her laundry basket and carried it down the hall. She opened the washer door and haphazardly threw things into the machine. She poured liquid detergent in and started the water.

“What’re you doing?” Her mother stared at her, eyes chilly.

Annabelle shrugged. “Laundry?”

“How very . . . adult of you,” her mother said. Confused by her iciness, by her mother’s words, she shut the washer door before starting the appropriate wash cycle.

“Rude much?” she muttered.

Her mother sighed long and hard. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. “I have . . . I’m sorry,” she said turning to Annabelle. “I have time, now, to bring you to Skillins if you want.” Annabelle considered her mother’s apology and decided it was the best she was going to get. She nodded at her mother and shuffled in her wake down the hall.

~
***
~

Feeling rebellious, Annabelle let Madison drive her to Glenview Tuesday after school; no one would know. It lifted her spirit giggling in the car with her best friend while belting out lyrics to their favorite songs on the drive over.

“Listen Madison, I know it’s weird, sitting with a stranger and listening to them talk but, be polite okay?” She wasn’t asking. It was an instruction. And surprisingly, Madison nodded. Annabelle carried the potted flower down the corridor with Madison dragging her feet behind her.

“Hi, Jez!” Annabelle greeted, entering the room.

“Hi,” Madison said and smiled uncomfortably.

“Well! What do we have here?” Jezebel asked, pointing to the flower.

Annabelle shrugged. “This is for you.” She walked to Jezebel and handed her the gift.

“Ah, an orchid. Do you know what it means?”

“Um, captivating, I think,” she answered.

“Yes and strength,” Jezebel added. “It’s beautiful. Why did you choose it?”

“When the lady told me what it meant it just seemed fitting for you. I dunno, it’s how I see you I guess.”

“That’s quite the compliment. Thank you.” A bright smile graced Jezebel’s face. “Annabelle, who is this?” Jezebel gestured to Madison.

“My best friend Madison. I thought it was okay for her to come today.”