Jezebel (22 page)

“To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” she and Mark repeated with grins.

After slicing the cupcake into thirds and downing the entire bottle of champagne between the three of them, Mark left to do work. Jezebel twisted her hair up and secured it while Annabelle tucked her legs under her and got comfortable. As Jezebel picked up with Celeste’s story her fingers toyed with the gold chain of her necklace.

Chapter 26

Celeste

Paris 1993

Celeste missed her play-fights with Gabriel in the kitchen and the bargains they struck to make up. He would take the trash out for a week if she would wear the lingerie he’d gotten her for her birthday. Or perhaps she’d flick flour at him and he’d ravish her right there on the kitchen floor as punishment. She missed their weekend mornings spent in bed. The simplicity of being home together with nothing to do. The way he’d brush his hand at her waist whenever he passed by.

She was excited for a real date night, finally. There were days when she felt she was losing him. First he’d stopped making their coffee in the mornings. Another few months passed and he stopped reading with her in the evenings, coming home long after bedtime. Gabriel didn’t leave all at once. No. Just moment by moment it seemed. Those thoughts, when voiced, were always brushed aside as irrational. And on some level she knew he was right. Gabriel’s hours at work resulted in her being alone often and that resulted in her feeling like he was disappearing when in reality he wasn’t. Was he?

Still, she took great care in getting ready for their evening out together. Painstakingly, she curled her hair into a perfect mass of curls—just the way he liked it. Expertly she applied her make-up and dabbed on perfume that he could smell but wouldn’t know where it had been applied until they got back to their bed. She put on her dress, careful not to ruffle her hair or touch her make-up, and wandered downstairs to find her shoes. She wanted to take his breath away. She wanted the validation of seeing his eyes alight with passion when he saw her.

~
***
~

Celeste and Gabriel sat two feet from each other, a candle on the table casting a romantic glow between them. It might as well have been two miles. It felt like a vast abyss separated them. It was as if shims had been placed between them over time, carefully moving them further apart until all those shims amassed an enormous wedge. She couldn’t fault Gabriel. It wasn’t him persé. It was them both and she knew that. She smiled lovingly at her handsome husband and reached for his hand. It was at least a small step to bridge the distance she felt. Gabriel covered her small hand with his much larger one. She took a shallow breath. The warmth of his hand heated her own.

He smiled at her warmly, one dimple gracing his face. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

“Did I mention you look edible tonight?” he said, desire lacing his words.

“No,” Celeste smirked at him and shook her head.

“You do, mon amour.” Gabriel gave her hand a small squeeze. Celeste sighed as he ran his thumb rhythmically over her skin. The contact made her heart speed up. “So very delicious.”

“Tell me, how is work going?”

That dimple appeared on his handsome face again. His eyes lit up and his smile reached ear to ear. “Fantastic,” he gushed. “Very close to it all coming together now.”

Their waiter arrived and set their plates in front of them. Gabriel released her hand to make room. Reluctantly, she slid her hand back across the table.

“
Bon appétit
,” he said, his native tongue melting her heart.

Dinner was delicious and the movie they caught afterward had them laughing and quoting one-liners on the way home. It had been ages since they’d had such fun, shared such laughs. Gabriel’s hand rested on her thigh the entire drive and she took joy in tracing the length and lines of his fingers. As they pushed through their front door laughing at each other’s terrible celebrity impressions Celeste found herself happier than she had been in a long time. Perhaps they just needed to make time for more date nights together. Her full and warm heart boosted her mind-set and gave her a sense of peace.

Gabriel peeled back the blanket and crawled into bed next to her. She stared at the ceiling watching the moonlight shift the shadows around from the window. “What are you working on exactly?” She asked resolving that she wanted to be more invested in her husbands ‘other’
love.

Gabriel rolled to his side and ran a finger from her temple to her jaw. “Celeste you know I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

“Oh come on, who would I tell, Gabriel?” she exasperated.

“Your father would have my head.” His voice was firm.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at her husband. “I’m not going to tell my
dad
anything. I just feel like I don’t understand what you’re doing all day-why it’s so important. Are you curing cancer?” she asked a playful hint in her voice.

Gabriel scoffed. “Hardly. It’s much more devious than that. In 1960 the French government commissioned a team of biochemists to develop a biowarfare drug that would incapacitate, say, an opposing army or base of some sort.”

Celeste gasped at his words. “Not to kill them Celeste, just keep them down long enough to infiltrate or acquire information. Basically something that worked to paralyze their bodies yet keep their minds and speech functioning.

“In 1967 they had run animal trials successfully for years so the government sanctioned a human trial. It was a blind study. They contaminated the water at a small restaurant in some remote location in Spain. It failed. Horribly, actually. Everyone who was at the restaurant died. Well, almost; there was one survivor. But after that, the program was shut down. Obviously.”

Celeste worked to wrap her mind around his words. “Jesus Gabriel. They killed people?” she said shocked. “I don’t understand . . . how does this tie in to what you’re working on?”

“Celeste, I’m really not sanctioned to tell you more. I’ve said too much already.”
Celeste pouted. “I just want to understand better. It’s not really the details I want, it’s just . . . I want to understand what you spend all your time on. Why it matters.” She gave him a pleading look. Their night was going so well. Her spirits boosted, soul light. She didn’t want top-secret information. She hoped her expression conveyed to him that she was just . . . trying. Trying to be more invested. Trying to understand his passion. Trying.
Gabriel held her eyes. She could see his mind turning over whether or not to give in. “We’ve been testing the survivor’s DNA for years now trying to determine what the key was. We’re so close. I can taste it, mon amour. If we can alter the original drug so that it performs the way it was meant—my God Celeste, we’d be rich.” He kissed her jaw and nibbled her earlobe. His dedication to his work was obvious in his passionate rambling.

“We are rather wealthy already,” she pointed out wrapping her arms around him. Celeste didn’t care about money or material things. She felt like she’d already won just having Gabriel in her life. She just had to be strong until his work was completed. They’d have more time together then.

“The kind of wealth I’m talking about is different. Governments would kill for this drug. It would change the way wars are fought. My name would be legendary. It would be a major breakthrough.” Gabriel rolled on top of her and stared down at her, eyes hungry.

“It sounds dangerous,” she breathed. He dipped his head and stole her breath with a kiss.

“It is. Then again, any work with any government has the ability to be dangerous.”

“Are you working with French government?” she asked wriggling out of her pajama pants.

“No, no mon amour,” he answered between kisses he trailed down her chest.

“Are you testing on people Gabriel?” The thought was blurted before she could stop it.

His head popped up, above her navel and he stared at her. She couldn’t quite decipher his expression. “Please, there is no need to worry about my work. We’re not doing anything we aren’t supposed to. Everything is by the book,” he answered.

“Well I’d hope so. How many died?” she asked. He stared blankly at her. “At the restaurant?” she said.

“Oh. I don’t know . . . thirty-two maybe,” he answered. Celeste pushed up on her elbows, eyes wide. “My God, Gabriel, how did that never make the news? History? How were all those deaths explained? Those poor families,” she said her voice full of sorrow for the people affected.

“Celeste, my beautiful wife,” he kissed her forehead. “I suspect that governments can and will cover up anything they want. It was a long time ago. It’s not for us to worry about.” His head dipped to the spot where her shoulder and neck met and he bit lightly. A great sigh escaped her and she sunk back into the bed as Gabriel continued his plight down her torso. “Let me give you something
better
to worry about.” He smirked up at her and spread her legs wider. She pushed aside her thoughts of deaths, drugs and governments, swatted at his head, laughed, and let her husband do as he pleased.

Chapter 27

Annabelle

“after the bliss has long ended-this caution this fault, give me a breeze that’s long winded.”

~ Exhausted, Foo Fighters

Mark drove, one hand on the wheel, the other holding her hand. Annabelle smiled. She thought about her parents. Would they be at home to greet her, to wish her congratulations, to offer a hug? She was nervous.

“Congrats again babe,” Mark said throwing the truck in park. She still hadn’t told him it wasn’t her house. She always waved him off and waited until he pulled away to walk a few doors down to hers. She didn’t know why exactly. At first she didn’t want her parents seeing her get dropped off, but today, it felt like something more.

“Thanks,” she answered. Mark leaned across the cab to her, his face hovering just inches from hers.

“Annabelle,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to kiss you now.” One hand slid around the back of her neck and tugged, closing the distance between their lips. When they met, she stilled at the sensation. She wasn’t inexperienced but Mark’s kiss felt unlike all the previous ones she’d received. It was warm, gentle and flawless. Unspoiled by a bad attitude or grief or sorrow. She let herself go and gave into the moment, feeling the high of it. When he finally pulled away she was breathless, dazed, content and full.

“We should do that again,” she said. Mark’s laugh filled the cab of the truck as he hugged her. He kissed the top of her head.

“We will,” he answered. “Talk to you later on?”

“Definitely.” She hopped out of the truck and waved Mark off as he pulled away.

When his taillights disappeared she walked three houses down to hers and climbed the front steps. The answer to all of her earlier questions about her parents was: no. The house was dark and silent when she arrived and she was glad she wasn’t dumb enough to get her hopes up. After reading the note taped to the fridge door, saying her mother was at the country club at some meeting, she headed straight for her room. She noticed her father in his office as she walked by. She didn’t bother to stop. What was the point?

~
***
~

Annabelle tossed and turned. It was well after midnight and despite all the tricks she could think of to try, she couldn’t trick herself into falling asleep. The disappointment of her parents missing her graduate coursed through her. She kicked the blankets off and stared at the ceiling. In the silence, a sudden sound rang out.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
Annabelle swung her legs over the edge of the bed, irritated, and walked to the window.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
She brushed the curtain aside. Squinting, she peered out the window.

Mark.

Standing under a tree, Mark smiled. His teeth almost glowed in the moonlight. He bowed in her direction before holding up a wrapped box toward her. Annabelle stifled a giggle. What was he doing here? She held up a finger to indicate she needed a minute. He nodded and sat at the base of the tree.

She tugged on yoga pants under her nightshirt and carefully opened the window. It squeaked when it got to a certain point. She threw one leg out and found her footing on the trellis before swinging her other leg out too.

“What are you doing?” Mark whisper yelled.

“Coming out.”

“Are you too cool for the door?” he asked.

“Shhh.”

Annabelle jumped down the last two feet and landed with a soft thud in the dewy grass.

“What are
you
doing here?” she asked.

Mark ran a hand through his hair and smiled at her before looking at the ground. “I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about how disappointed you looked and I wanted to do something about it.”

“How’d you even know where I live?”

“I know you wait for me to drive off before walking here. I can still see you in my rearview.” Annabelle squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed. “Figuring out which window was yours was the tough part.”

“How many rocks did you have to throw?”

Mark laughed and shook his head. “Come here,” he said pulling on the front of her shirt. The look in his eyes had Annabelle’s heart stumbling in her chest. She moved toward him, but only a little. He pulled her closer still. She reached out and traced a finger from jaw to neck to shoulder and down his stomach. He was so much harder than she expected. Like all his muscles were right on the surface. He sucked a breath in through his teeth at the contact as her fingers hooked the waistline of his jeans and hung there.

“I got you something.”

Annabelle looked up at him. When she didn’t take the present, he took her hand and pressed the box into it. The present was wrapped in sparkling paper, Annabelle’s favorite kind, celestial stars glittered in gold against a black background. She took the package from him and lead him away from the house. She didn’t want to risk getting caught.

She led Mark through the backyard until they reached the treehouse that had long been abandoned, but that she thought should still be able to hold them. She watched as he looked up into the tree.

“Ahh,” he gave her a sideways glance. “You sure this will hold us?”

Annabelle shrugged. “Let’s find out.” She tucked the box into the waistband of her yoga pants and started climbing the ladder. Mark followed behind.

Brushing aside some stray leaves and dust she sat on the floor Indian-style. Mark did the same. She tore the paper from the box and opened the lid. A gold nautical compass pendant sat nestled in velvet.

“It’s queer,” he said. Annabelle shook her head. “It’s perfect. It’s beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Will you wear it?” he asked. Annabelle nodded.

“Will you help?”

Mark grinned and nodded. He took the necklace out of the box and carefully fastened it around her neck. Maybe that’s why he bought it, so they’
d
have this moment, with his hands warm on the back of her neck, under her hair. He ran his fingertips along the chain and settled the pendant on her throat. She shivered.

“I can’t really picture you as a treehouse kind of kid.”

“I wasn’t,” she sighed. She laid down on her back. Mark scooted next to her and followed suit. His warm hand enveloped hers as they stared silently up at the endless, star-littered sky. She didn’t feel disappointed anymore.

~
***
~

Annabelle’s mother breezed in through the front door wearing a fitted white skirt and a tailored black blouse. Her hair was swept up in a loose knot and she wore a little superficial smirk at the corner of her full lips.

“Monica!” her father roared from his office. Annabelle startled from the den where she was curled on the couch watching TV. The sound of her mother’s heels clacked on the hardwood as she waltzed through the den to her father’s office. She muted the TV and watched her parents instead.

Both her mother’s and her father’s mouths were tight and firmly shut, as if they were using all their willpower to contain their anger from exploding out, able only to stay composed for the moment. Her father’s nostrils flared, his chest heaved. Her mother crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door jam.

“What happened?” her father asked. Annabelle shifted her position on the couch to get a better view. She needed to know what was going on.

“What?” her mother spit out curtly.

“I waited at the restaurant for an hour. I texted. I called. Where the hell have you been?” her father boomed.

“My phone’s on silent. I was at the club,” her mother stated. Her posture changed then. Slumped slightly, her mother let out an audible sigh. She pushed from the doorframe and took a step into the office. A step toward her father.

“Don’t.” Her father raised his hand. Her mother froze where she was. Her father ran his hands through his hair and looked straight up, something he always did when thinking deeply.

“Gavin, I’m sorry,” her mother offered quietly, her head hung as she stared at the floor.

“Sorry? It’s our
anniversary,
” her father said, the hurt evident in his voice.

Her mother snorted. “Yes, what a joyous thing,” she offered dryly. Her father’s eyes grew dark and narrowed. He stood from his desk and marched up to her mother, fuming.

Annabelle silently pushed off the couch and tiptoed out of the den toward her room. She could already hear their yelling as she moved through the hallway. Her parents were crumbling under the weight of their bitterness. A knot formed in her gut and she wanted nothing more than to bury her head under her pillow and forget about this week.

~
***
~

Jezebel waited in her usual spot for Annabelle. She had her nose in a book and a fan in the window blowing in the warm early summer air.

“Whatcha reading?” Annabelle greeted. She dropped her bag to the floor near the door and kicked off her flip-flops before sitting. She felt lighter in Jezebel’s presence. No bitterness or grief assaulted her here. Two glasses of water waited on the table. She picked one up and took a sip.

Jezebel looked over the top of her book at Annabelle. “
The Other Typist.
”

“Any good?”

“It’s a total mind-fuck—so yes, it’s brilliant.”

“Maybe I’ll borrow it when you’re done.”

Jezebel dog-eared her page and shut the book, setting it on a side table. Annabelle picked at a hangnail on her middle finger and bit her lip.

“Kid?” Jezebel said.

“Jez, did you ever forget your wedding anniversary?” Annabelle asked while still studying her cuticles.

“Never! It’s a sacred day between married people. It doesn’t mean you have to celebrate it grandly, but it should most certainly be noticed and revered,” Jezebel answered.

Annabelle nodded her head in agreement. In years past her parents always did something together. Her mother had once told her, when she was little and wanted to celebrate with them, that it was a private day for the mom and the dad to remind each other of their commitment and renew their love. She’d cried, feeling left out when their parents spent an overnight at a hotel that year.

“Yeah,” she said blandly.

“You’re dismal today,” Jezebel said. Annabelle snapped her eyes up.

“Yeah. Just a long week I guess, but not all bad,” she answered.

“Tell me the good then.” Jezebel settled deeper into her chair, making herself comfortable.

“Mark kissed me,” she breathed, recalling the memory of his lips on hers, how he’d kissed her goodnight and cupped her butt as she started back up the trellis to her room.

“Finally,” Jezebel said with barely concealed amusement. “When I told him to be a gentleman I didn’t mean be a prude!” Annabelle laughed loudly, a grin taking over her features. “Well . . . don’t just sit there looking starry-eyed—details!” Jezebel exclaimed.

“Well, we were in his truck. Mark leaned across the cab. ‘Annabelle’ he said. I said ‘Yes,’ and then he was all . . . ’I’m going to kiss you now.’” Annabelle sighed, happy. “It was tender and flawless. When he pulled away I was breathless.” Jezebel pushed her sleeves up her forearms and leaned her elbows on her knees.

Jezebel waited. “And . . .” Annabelle didn’t want to finish her story, but she knew she didn’t really have much say on the matter around Jezebel.

“And then like a fool I blurted out ‘We should do that again.’” Annabelle flushed and buried her face in her hands.

“Brava! Did you?” Jezebel asked.

“He said, ‘We will,’ and then I got out of the truck. Why am I such an idiot around him?”

“You’re not! He probably thinks you’re just about the most adorable thing to ever land in his lap. Trust me.” Jezebel stated. Annabelle shook her head in protest but smiled at the thought.

“Trust . . . you,” Annabelle deadpanned.

“Well, I do see him more often than you,” Jezebel countered with a sly expression. Annabelle chuckled. Jezebel was always one step ahead of her. But she didn’t know about the treehouse and for an unknown reason, she didn’t want Jezebel to know. She kept that moment to herself.

“You’re so infuriating sometimes,” Annabelle commented playfully. “I can never beat you.”

“You can’t beat someone at their own game, dear.”

Annabelle stifled a laugh and surrendered. “Let’s just move along, yeah?”

“To Celeste?”

“Yes . . . to Celeste,” she answered.