Blind Obsession (40 page)

I now know that assuming was the biggest deception of all.

UNTITLED

Chapter  Twenty-Seven ~ Truth

I race down the stairs and grab my coat from the rack by the door. Heading outside, I know exactly where he is—the river. He’s got to be down by the river.

Stopping for a moment, I look to the sky and feel the warmth of the sun as it beams down over my face. It’s just turned noon, and there isn’t a cloud in sight. It’s cool, but there’s no wind. The air is still.

Zipping my coat, I start to make my way to the small path through the vineyards, and as I get closer, I find myself picking up pace until I’m jogging. Reaching the last bend in the path, I make the turn and spot him immediately.

He’s over by the edge of the water with his back to me. As usual, he’s wearing his long dark coat. The collar has been turned up against his neck. His hands are clasped and drawn into tight fists behind his back.

I realize that I’m holding myself as still as a statue. I’m barely even breathing, not wanting to disturb him. I try to think of some way to let him know that I’m there without startling him. I’m surprised when his deep voice reaches between the empty space.

“I know you’re there, Gemma.”

Swallowing and shaking my hands out by my legs, I tell myself,
Move
.
Put one foot in front of the other and move. Go to him.

Just as I make that first step, he mumbles, “I always know you’re there.”

That’s when I feel myself falter. My foolish heart starts to thump at the idea that he notices me until I remind myself of everything he’s told me and everything he’s done over the last few days.
He sees me only because of her.

Compelling myself to move again, I manage to make it as far as a couple of feet behind him, but I lose my nerve and stop. I wait patiently for him to either acknowledge me or pretend I don’t exist. I know that no matter which option he chooses, it will cripple me in some fundamental way.

It feels like hours are passing by as I stand there on the bank of the
Fleuve  Sauvage de Fleurs
, staring at the strong shoulders shrouded in black wool, but in actuality, it’s not much longer than several minutes.

His voice finally breaks through the thick silence. “It was a day just like today, you know. Only, it was warmer.”

I don’t question which day he’s talking about because I already know.

“There was not a cloud in sight,” he tells me. Following that statement, he lets out a small laugh. “I had this idea to paint her here in the water.”

Looking over his shoulder, our eyes connect. He’s waiting for me to comment. Perhaps he wants me to make some kind of accusatory statement, but he won’t get that from me. I know he has done nothing wrong. When it’s clear that I’m not going to say anything, he once again turns back to face the running river.

“The weather was perfect. The sun was up, bringing you warmth when you stepped outside. It was blue. The sky was such a brilliant shade of blue that day. I didn’t think to check the weather that day. Pretty fucking stupid of me since I knew the water table had risen with all the rain we had received.”

I shift my feet slightly, looking up at the cloudless sky, and I realize that it looks exactly as he is describing from that day.
The sky is a brilliant shade of blue.

“It was around two thirty in the afternoon when we came down here. I clothed her as I wanted to paint her. She wore a white dress that flowed down to her toes. Her beautiful...” Pausing, he seems to be trying to gather himself before continuing. “Her beautiful hair was left out. I wanted it to float around her.”

Shaking his head at himself, I know somewhere deep inside he’s villainizing his actions. He’s blaming himself for bringing her down here, blaming himself for dressing her, and blaming himself for ultimately letting her go.

***

Over and over, he watches the scene playing out in his mind. As he stands there by the river where she finally let go, leaving him, he closes his eyes and sees every detail with startling clarity.

***

Chantel stepped out of the chateau.

“You look like an angel,” he told her as he moved toward her and looked her over. He had bought the dress the other day when he’d been in town. It had been hanging in the window of a little boutique, and as soon as he had seen it, he’d visualized her wearing it while somehow floating. She had then told him about her dream. It wasn’t until they had gone down to the river when he had realized he wanted to paint her in the water.

She laughed. “An angel?”

He reached out to take her hands in his own.

Entwining their fingers, Chantel smirked. “I think I proved last night that I’m no angel.”

Pulling her forward, he leaned down, unable to resist, and pressed his lips to hers. After kissing her gently, he smiled. “And let’s not forget this morning.”

Leaning her head away from his, she arched an eyebrow. “Oh, that was you?”

“Oh yes, Chantel.” He let his eyes move to her plump red lips. “That was me deep, deep inside of you as you screamed my name.”

Letting her head fall back, she parted those lips as she basked in the warmth of the sun. “Hmmm, that’s because you set me on fire.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Don’t start that. I want to get down to the river before we lose the light.”

Sighing dramatically, she shook her head. “Fine, Mr. Artiste. Lead the way.”

Taking her hand, he guided her down the small dirt path through the rows of vines. As they rounded the bend, he let go of her hand and moved forward until he realized that she had stopped.

“You okay?”

Chantel nodded as she tilted her head to the side. “Yellowhammers, right?”

 He looked up above them, and sure enough, there were several little birds chirping and jumping through the branches.

“Yes,” he confirmed and laughed. “How did you know that?”

Instead of answering him, she just smiled and bent down.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking my sandals off,” she replied as though he should already know this. “I want to feel the grass.” She paused for a moment. “There is grass, right? That day we came down here, I think I remember—”

Laughing, he answered, “Yes, there’s grass. It’s extremely green and lush right now. There are no stickers either. Your dainty little feet will be safe.”

He watched as she kicked off her sandals and let her toes sink into the long green blades. Clasping her hands in front of her, she smiled in his direction, and for a moment, he was struck with just how incredibly special she was.

This woman was not only beautiful on the outside. She also had everything good and pure inside of her that seemed to find a way to touch people. Whether through her music or just the way she stood there now guileless, trusting, and serene, she had a way. In a place so untouched, he couldn’t imagine a better scene to capture her true essence.

“Come,” he invited, watching as she moved toward his voice.

With each step she took, she seemed to delight in the grass tickling her toes. Her smile beamed as she moved closer. When she finally reached him, he took the hand that was by her side.

“If we wade out just a little bit, it will be perfect.”

Nodding in agreement, she squeezed his hand and turned, moving toward the water’s edge.

“I went and bought a secondhand violin today” he told her.

He noticed that she was looking down to where the water was now lapping at her bare toes.

Giggling, she looked back to where she heard his voice. “Well, that’s good because I was not going to bring Diva in here with me.”

He couldn’t help but smile as she stood there with her feet in the water and a grin on her face. God, he loved her, and tonight, he was going to ask her to be his forever.

As she reached up and ran her nimble fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes and groaned from the pleasure of her touch. Who knew he would ever feel such peace at the hands of another human being? What a gift she had, and each time she touched him, she reminded him of the bond and pull they had with one another. When he opened his eyes, he saw that she was staring right back at him almost as though she could see him, and he knew that she felt it, too.

Pulling back gently, he ran a hand down her hair. He asked her one more time, “Are you sure you don’t mind being in the water?”

She released his hand, and he felt the absence of it as acutely as he would a missing limb. When her ankles were submerged, she turned back to him and smiled.

“Not in the least.”

He moved and kicked off his own shoes. He’d worn shorts today, knowing that he would have to wade out into the river. Moving in behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”

Laughing, she nodded. “Yes, Phillipe, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

As they both walked out into the water, he could feel the cool liquid creeping up his calves. Her dress was starting to rise and float to the top.

She gasped softly. “Oh! It’s cool.”

Gently, he squeezed her shoulders. “Want to leave?”

“No, it’s already starting to feel nice.”

“Okay, let’s go out a little bit farther,” he told her.

As they continued, he could feel some branches that must have fallen into the river. They brushed his legs as they moved farther out.

When the water lapped around the top of her legs, he stopped her. “Here. This will be perfect.”

She turned in his arms and grinned up at him. “Hmm, I like this. Maybe we should strip and go for a swim.”

“If we strip, we will never leave. Okay, I’m going back to the edge. Are you alright here by yourself?”

Sighing, she arched a brow. “I’m fine. It’s only to my thighs, and I’m pretty sure I can rest against this huge boulder if I get tired.” She paused as she reached her hand into the water. With a mischievous grin, she lifted her hand to splash him. “Go already, or the sun will go down.”

“I’ll get you for that,” he promised as he started making his way back to the bank. “And Chantel? Move away from the boulder. I need you to float, not sit on the rock like a mermaid.”

When he got to the edge, he turned around to face her. She was standing almost at the halfway point between the two banks, and the water was moving slowly around her, shifting the white dress back and forth as it floated on the surface.

He smiled to himself, knowing his vision would be perfect, but at the same time, he felt a niggling of fear because she was out there on her own.

“Is this far enough?” she called out.

He didn’t answer right away as he was starting to second-guess himself. He was about to go to her and bring her back in, when on a loud shout, she told him.

“Would you quit worrying? I know you’re worrying, Phillipe! I’ve been swimming for years, plus it’s only up to my thighs.”

Smiling at her smart little mouth and the constant reminder she kept giving him, he nodded slightly as if she could see him.

“Okay fine. Can you float?”

Nodding, she lowered herself into the water. “Yes, I can float.”

As she stretched out, he looked up to the sky and noticed that several clouds had started to shift in overhead.
Damn it!

Wondering how much time they had before they lost the light, he picked up his sketchpad and started to draw. Her dress drifted all around her as she held out her arms to the sides of her body. He sketched her for a solid thirty minutes. He captured the outline of her hair, the yards of material, and the water. He figured he’d fill in the violin and other details tomorrow.

He couldn’t help adding her lips though. They were parted, and she looked peaceful as she lay there in the water. As he shaded from her hip down to her legs, he noticed her ankles had started to fall beneath the water. She was getting tired.

Smiling, he figured that she didn’t even realize it.
Ha, and she thought she could float.

“Chantel,” he called out to her.

When he got no answer, he placed the charcoal on the sketchpad and called out again. He figured that the water was covering her ears or she had zoned out as she lay relaxed in the warm afternoon sun.

“Chantel!”

He was about to stand and go to her when a fat raindrop hit the page he was working on. Looking up to the sky, he saw the clouds were darkening and moving now at a more rapid pace. Placing the pad on the ground, he stood and made his way out into the water.