The Tolling of Mercedes Bell: A Novel (23 page)

“Mom, are you okay? You’re acting kind of weird.”

“I’ll be fine. Our time together as a twosome is short. I want to make sure you know that no one, not even Jack, could ever possibly take your place in my heart. You will always be my Number One.”

“I know that, Mom! And I love you—even when you act weird.”

Caroline walked Mercedes out to her car. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Caroline teased. Seeing her friend’s apprehension, she added, “Listen, you’ve waited, you’ve done everything you could to keep your head and make the right decision. You’ve shown great restraint, and Jack has been a gentleman. He’s given Germaine time to get used to him, and he’s begun a very nice relationship with her. He’s met your parents and received their blessing. He’s given you a commitment, has a house waiting for you to move into, an engagement
ring ready to slip onto your finger, and I have to say he does look overjoyed. I don’t know what else you have to do to be sure. We’ve checked him out. Darrel thinks the world of him—and his former business associates have great respect for him. So relax and enjoy yourself! It’s about time,” Caroline pronounced confidently.

“It means a lot to hear you say so,” replied Mercedes.

“I’ll be here with Germaine and Anne when you get back tomorrow,” Caroline reassured her.

M
ERCEDES DROVE TO JACK’S APARTMENT
building and parked on the street. The doorman tipped his hat to her and held the door. The concierge greeted her.

She felt herself walking into the next world; the doors to the old one closed behind her.

Jack opened the door to his apartment before she could even ring the bell. He was somewhat formally attired in a black-and-white-striped dress shirt, which had his initials monogrammed in tiny red letters on the pocket. His trousers were perfectly creased and his black wing tips highly polished, like everything else about him. He looked at her as though he could devour her. He took the overnight bag out of her hand and kissed her mouth and both cheeks.

She went to freshen up. In the bathroom stood regal Athena, her beautiful form in marble, her strong features staring bravely forward with a goddess’s self-assurance. Mercedes looked into the mirror and straightened one of the pearl earrings Eleanor had given her from Elizabeth’s collection. Suddenly she felt she was exactly where she should be, doing just what she was supposed to be doing.

S
OON THEY WERE WALKING INTO
Shreve & Company, where Minette was just finishing with a customer. She brought the blue velvet box over to them. Mercedes’s heart leapt. Jack removed the radiant sapphire ring, took Mercedes’s left hand, and reverently slid the ring down her finger without a word. It had been sized perfectly.

“It’s even more beautiful than I remembered,” Jack said. “This ring must have been made for you, for us.” She turned to face him as he put his arms around her and held her. Soon they were on their way out of the store.

Although the weather was chilly and damp, Mercedes had worn no gloves so she could look at the gorgeous jewel on her finger while she walked beside the gorgeous jewel of a husband she was soon to have. They were jostled by other shoppers, admiring Christmas decorations and elaborate window displays. Magic seemed to have enveloped them entirely.

Full of energy, with the whole afternoon and night in front of them, they teased each other playfully and picked out presents for Germaine, Janine, Melanie, Philip, and Eleanor. When their bags grew heavy, they stopped at a café just off Union Square. It was late afternoon, and the dinner crowd had yet to appear. Jack ordered food for both of them.

“Bella, you have to build up your strength. We have a long night ahead of us.”

She tore off a piece of sourdough, buttered it, and pushed it into his mouth. He nibbled at her fingers and eyed her.

“So, are there any other hurdles you’re going to make me leap over?” he asked. “The clock is ticking. In a matter of moments I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and haul you back to my cave.”

She laughed.

“Germaine has given me her stamp of approval. I survived Eleanor, made friends with your dad, your boss, your landlord, took
the HIV test, and passed through the gauntlet of East Oakland to get to you.”

“My compliments on your tenacity.” She spread out her left hand on the white tablecloth so they could both admire the dazzling ring.

“Although it has been a bit torturous to wait, honestly I admire your self-control. You’re not one to be hurried to judgment. You make up your own mind. I like that. My wife will be her own person and stand on her own two feet.” He signaled the waiter for the check.

“No dessert?” she asked. She knew he had seen the chocolate cake touted on the menu.

“We’ll have dessert at my place.” He looked steadily into her eyes. “It will be the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted.”

N
IGHT WAS FALLING WHEN THEY
got to his apartment. He unlocked the door and ushered her in. They put their bags down in the entryway. He turned on a light and hung their coats. She walked into the living room, where the lights of the city were beginning to twinkle against a backdrop of deep blue. Fog drifted in from the bay. Jack took off his shoes and tread silently across the carpets. She turned from the view to face him.

He scooped up her face into his hands and kissed her lips hungrily. He kissed her eyes, her nose, and again her mouth and held her tightly in his arms. She felt his shoulder blades through the satiny shirt, felt his well-muscled back and slid her hands down his backside. His hands wandered down her neck and across her shoulders. The city lights shone in the darkening room. The only sounds were their breathing, and the traffic in the distance.

His hands caressed her breasts gently, then her narrow ribcage and her waist. He slipped his hands beneath her blue sweater. He
kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He ran his fingers up her back and unfastened her bra. His hands moved around to the front, to feel her breasts beneath the loosened bra. Her nipples responded to his touch. Suddenly she craved his touch all over her.

He took her by the hand and led her into his darkened bedroom. He turned down the duvet on his king-sized bed and lit a candle lantern on his bureau. A dozen long-stemmed roses were arranged in a vase on the lovely dark dresser. She walked over and put her face into the center of the blossoms, inhaling their fragrance deeply. He looked at her and smiled. He turned on the sound system with a remote switch. Glenn Gould began to play Bach’s
Goldberg Variations
on the piano. Mercedes stood there with her eyes closed for a few moments as the notes entered her body and moved up and down her spine.

Jack stood behind her and ran his fingers beneath her sweater to her breasts again. She turned, and he pulled her toward him with another long kiss. He gently led her over to the bed and sat her down on the corner. He knelt on the floor in front of her and slowly raised one of her legs. He unzipped her boot and carefully peeled off her thin sock. When he had done the same with the other one, and her trousers, he ran his hands up her smooth legs, spread them apart, and pulled her closer so she was straddling him. He pulled up her sweater and undressed her as if she were a child, carefully removing her arms from each sleeve. He gathered all her hair in his hands and pulled the sweater over her head. He let her hair down tenderly.

She unbuckled his belt, pulled it out of its loops in one firm motion, and unfastened the top of his trousers. She extricated the long tail of his shirt. The black and white stripes were vivid in the dim light. Mercedes smiled, even as Glenn Gould held part of her attention.

“You look like a skunk,” she murmured as she kissed him.

“I finally get you in my bedroom and that’s what you have to say?” He feigned distress.

She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her fingers down his undershirt. She kissed his big beautiful mouth. She removed his cuff links and set them down, then pushed the shirt back on his shoulders until he had taken it off. He stood up and pulled his undershirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.

His bare shoulders and silky black-haired chest were a sight for her hungry eyes. She had longed for this moment and imagined it countless times. She unzipped his loosened trousers and pulled them down. She grazed the tormented bulge with the top of her head, her long hair brushing his thighs.

He stepped out of his trousers and pushed her backward onto the soft bedding. She looked up at the classical proportions of the statuesque Jack Soutane, his long muscular arms, wide shoulders, and long neck. Holding her gaze, he stripped off his underwear, put his arms down by his sides, and let her inspect him for a moment where he stood.

“I’m all yours,” he said.

He climbed onto the bed and hovered over her. He kissed her neck and inhaled her perfume, pressed her breasts together softly with both hands, burying his face between them. She ran her fingers through his thick hair and succumbed to his explorations—his lips on her nipples, his tongue in her navel, and his removal of her underwear. The world began to vanish, the edges of reality blurred, leaving only Jack, the music, and the vortex into which they were falling.

He lay in bed beside her and scooped her into his arms. He encircled her body with his legs, reeling her in, pulling her on top of him, and draping her lithe form over himself like a velvet cloak. There were neither words nor thoughts—only an infinite now. He
kissed her mouth with unbridled desire and ran his hand up the curve of her back. He felt each vertebra. He explored her mouth with his tongue. She spread her legs around his hips, pressing against him, stretching out her torso on the great expanse of his chest. She felt home at last, with his heat radiating into her heart. Eventually he rolled her over. She sank into the soft bed and let go. Something inside her relaxed completely for the first time since they had met.

H
UNGER AND THIRST EVENTUALLY DROVE
them to the kitchen. She wore his now-wrinkled striped shirt with its sleeves rolled up to her wrists. It was longer than most of her dresses, grazing her knees. She pushed hair away from her face. The ring, still a stranger to her hand, caught in her curls. She looked at it in the kitchen light. It was proof that this night was not a dream.