Just how would that feel? I wondered. To have that touch, that closeness, that gentle intimacy.
*
As Em joked with Vicky, Jamie chewed on her bottom lip. Someone called Vicky to change her costume.
“What’s bothering you so, Miss Town?”
“He’s in love with you,” Jamie blurted. “Desperately in love with you. He’s our friend. We care about him and don’t want to see him hurt.” Em stared at Jamie, her heart in her throat and beating faster than usual. I’m not wrong. I’m not wrong. She almost sang the words out loud. Jamie shuffled her feet and looked down at the floor. Em turned to see Ron watching them. “Please let him down gently.” Jamie said.
“Or, maybe not at all.”
*
“Shit, shit, shit.” I ran. As fast as I could, across the park, past the guards, smack into Mentor coming out of the Grand Council Chambers. I edged past her, ignored her call, and ran.
*
“So-o-o?” Tony stood in the doorway to Ron’s den, frowning at his friend. “In the doldrums are we? Pouting a little? Missing the glory of working with Em.”
Ron glared. Tony was always too damned perceptive.
Tony laughed and settled in the recliner beside Ron’s, known as the UTBC, “Uncle Tony’s Behind Comforter.” Tony took a sip of the cognac Ron handed him. “Do you think she enjoyed filming?”
“Nah. She tried to hide it, but she’s too impatient for all the waiting around.”
“It’s amazing that no one leaked the story of her on your set.”
“She asked for a closed set and she got it.” Controlled everything. Controlled me? Ron was in agony. If she controlled him, what did that make him? A fucking boy-toy, without the fucking?
“The movie’s a bloody sensation. All the hype that Hollywood dreams of, but can never quite generate. Everyone’s talking about it. As if one little movie could change the world. Of course since it’s her movie, it is changing the world. Have you seen the testimonials?”
Control, total control. Ron chose his words carefully. “I believe that no matter what we had done with the movie, it would have had the exact impact on viewers that she wanted.”
“You believe she has that much power and control over the world?”
And of me?
“Ron? You with me, buddy?”
“For sure. You only have to watch the news to know that.”
“Jesus! You really think so.” Ron nodded. “Well you got to be with her up close and personal, you ought to know. All the big guns—CIA, KBG, UN—would love to say she’s theirs. Did she ever explain any of this to you?”
Ron shrugged. “No.”
“Makes sense. Can’t imagine her revealing too much. Your life’s gonna be a media barrage of hell now. Any regrets?”
“Hell, no!”
Tony laughed at the outburst. “None?”
“Working with her has been a gift.” In the core of his being he felt truly blessed.
*
They went to Raûl’s to celebrate completing the film. Raûl and his father greeted them warmly, brought several platters of food and numerous bottles of beer, and refused to accept payment.
“How are you surviving?” Ian asked Raûl. “Is all the attention from the media, not to mention the hordes of people lined up to eat here, driving you crazy?”
“It did for a while, but we asked la senora to stop it and she did.”
“Why?” Shane asked. “You could have made a lot of money. Moved to a bigger place.”
“We are happy here. My mother says what we have is enough. My father says we don’t need to get greedy like the landowners back home.”
“This is one very wise family,” Vicky said as Raûl went to the next table. “I admire them.”
“Why do you suppose she never offered us the option of being free of the media frenzy?” Shane asked.
“Would we really want that?” Allan asked. There was a long silence as they studied their cutlery intently.
“We like the attention,” Ian said finally. “At least I know I do.”
Em’s sudden arrival interrupted whatever the others might have said. “I was visiting with Grandma, and Raûl said you were here.” Soon the conversation was sailing along with hoots of laughter and good-natured fun.
*
There were times I wanted to reveal myself, let the cozy little group see me, let everyone see me, let them know it was me working with Em, and this was one of those times. To be with that cheery group, talking and joking with Em …, but of course that too, was against the rules.
Ron sat there like some sort of king. He was, I guess. Why Mentor chose him, I’ll never know, but he was one lucky bastard.
Chapter 26
Clad in pajamas, she lay on the sofa, the book in her hand, open, but unread. I've been in a movie. Every little girl's dream come true. And, no one will ever know.
So many secrets to keep. Listening to those around her talk about Madame—most difficult when they asked for her opinion. “What do you think?” the students said, expecting her to have all the answers. After all, she was the principal. “What do you think?” the teachers asked, wanting her opinion. After all, she was the Boss.
What did she think? It would be so easy to believe it was a dream, so easy to dismiss it all as a mental aberration, so very much easier to pretend none of it was real. She snorted. Impossible to dismiss the voice, the ring, the wounds she sometimes came home with—all self inflicted. Cuts and bruises from machetes and thorns and klutzy stumbles and.... Too many languages rang in her ears, too many voices reverberated in her head—especially his. That voice. The one that took her up, up and away.
The phone rang. She reached out to the coffee table, grabbed it, considered letting voice mail pick up, and finally answered after six rings.
“It's time for the party.” That voice again.
*
They were high on champagne and the success of the movie. This party was for the cast and crew, their spouses, and a few select guests. Ron had invited Gram but she had refused, saying the evening was for him. She helped him with his tux and tie. The kids presented him with a red rose for his lapel and sent him off in the studio limo with advice to enjoy himself and bask in the glory.
The six of them had been circulating and now stood together chatting. Em joined them, but no one had seen her arrive.
“You were awesome. Thank you so much. Allan, I know this was a lot of work, but I’m convinced the final product is worth every minute. And you still have your hair.”
“But it is a lot thinner and grayer,” he protested as his wife rolled her eyes.
“Liar!” Em laughed. “Jamie, you were a wonderful heroine. Beautiful, kind, brave, like your true self, I think.”
“Thank you, Madame. That is the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, but the real me isn’t quite that virtuous.”
“Maybe not, but close. Vicky, you make a wonderful friend and your sense of humor was a delightful addition to the role.” Vicky blushed.
“Ian, I had no idea you could be such an old curmudgeon.”
“I did,” his wife said dryly and everyone laughed.
“Shane, I could easily have fallen in love with your character.”
“Not with the real me?” He pretended grave hurt.
“Yes, with the real you too.” Em winked at Shane’s wife.
“Ron, what can I say? You make the perfect hero.” She hugged them each in turn.
“Madame, I’ve been asked to speak on behalf of the group,” Allan began. “You gave me an incredible opportunity to make a movie with no constraints, no budgetary woes and no interference—except from actors that is.” The others groaned and rolled their eyes.
“Get on with it,” Ian ordered.
“We want you to know that if there is ever anything we can do for you, just say the word.”
“Thank you. Actually there is something. Ron, I would like to bor
row you for two or three days.” There, she’d done it. Made her move. She felt tingly with anticipation. Soon. Soon, she’d be alone with Ron.
“Wh—?” Jamie began, but Ian nudged her to silence.
“Will you help me?” Em asked.
Ron stood there with a stunned look on his face.
Shane elbowed him. “Sheesh Ron, answer the lady.”
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Of course I’ll help.”
Chapter 27
Em fell asleep in Africa. I should have transported her home, but she was exhausted, so I watched over her as she slept on the open plains wrapped in a masai blanket. She didn’t stir as a cheetah and then a zebra sniffed at her still form. An elephant snuffled at her and lumbered away and still she slept.
*
Everything was blanketed in deep wet snow that clung stubbornly to trees, weighing heavily to break branches or fall in small avalanches trapping whatever was unfortunate enough to be underneath. The same texture that trapped tires and created moving ruts in the road, but was perfect for snowmen and snowballs.
She tried desperately to keep her mobylette upright and moving forward and wondered vaguely why she was riding such a flimsy little motor bike in these conditions. She was subliminally aware that she wasn’t cold with no coat or mitts or boots.
It was imperative that she get to the main drag. She could see it in the distance, sloppy wet with melted snow and sand, much dirtier but easier to drive on than the pristine white of the side streets. She checked the street signs looking for 100A. The signs changed each time she looked – 1,000,000 – 1,000 – 1,000,000,000. The numbers made no sense.
She looked for the main street again but it was no longer there. A maze of side streets, clogged with cars stuck in the snow, surrounded her. She looked again. The main drag was to her right, then to her left, and finally directly in front of her but miles away, so far that she could barely see the stream of traffic that flowed on it endlessly. She started to panic, sure she would never make it. Still she struggled with the mobylette as she negotiated the ruts and dodged snow-laden tree branches that threatened to sweep her off the bike.
Birds chirping merrily in the brush, and the low rumbling growl of a lioness alerted her finally to the fact that she was awake. Her sense of relief was disproportionate to the dream that hadn’t been particularly frightening.
*
Weird. I thought Em’s dream came from various experiences in her life: winter from her childhood isolated on a farm and often snowed in, the roads and traffic and street numbers from the trauma of moving from the farm to the city and getting lost on her way home from school. As for the mobylette, it was just like the one she owned when she lived in West Africa.
Mentor disagreed, told me I lacked perception and insight. She said the dream came from Em’s search for self, from the disconnect between her life before and her life working with me. I grudgingly admitted that would explain Em’s extreme reaction to the dream and her relief when she woke.
Chapter 28
Em heard the car pull up and Frank get out to open Ron’s door. “Go right in, sir.” His voice rang clear in the crisp night air.
What would Ron notice first when he entered? Her boots stood to the left of the door. Would he see them? Wonder at the military gleam?
He entered the living room, paused there. She pictured him in front of the television, watching for a moment and trying to puzzle out what language the rapid staccato was. If he guessed Arabic he’d be right. He walked toward the light she’d left on in the kitchen. He’d see her half empty glass of water on the counter.
She heard him return to the entrance and follow the hallway to the left. It led to a bedroom and en-suite bathroom with a huge shower. French doors opened to a spacious pool deck.
She stood at the railing watching the ocean. Every part of her tingled. Giddy as a teenager on her first date, she gripped the railing and searched frantically for something to say for he’d find her out here any moment now. She turned slowly at the sound of his indrawn breath.
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” she whispered.
“How could I not, when it was you who asked?”
“Still….” She shrugged. How to explain? That request could have been a command. She had the power to make him come to her, but she hadn’t used it. She had wanted him to want her, to come of his own accord.
Taut silence stretched between them. The air crackled with primal energy. She thought that only happened in romance novels. She reached up as if to touch his cheek and then, suddenly nervous, let her hand drop. He inhaled sharply.
Ron cupped her face in his hands then slid one around to the back of her head pulling her closer as he lowered his mouth to hers. Oh, God, yes. This is what I want. This is what I need. She reached up and wrapped both her arms around his neck. It was not a kiss, but a mutual assault, raw and demanding. They panted heavily as they broke apart.
“My God, I’ve never….” To her dismay he stopped.
“Never what?”
“Never felt anything like this before.” He looked stricken.
“How do you feel?” She asked the question softly, hoping he’d explain. She needed to know.
“I can’t explain. I feel so many things. Happy, of course—ecstatic—but sad too. I’m.… I feel.… I don’t know. Loving you—it’s all so mixed up and so complex.”
“And, that’s a good thing?” She studied his face. Less stricken now, but still scared. She prayed then, for a moment.
“Yes, yes, yes, it’s a good thing.” He smiled and never had she seen anything so beautiful. “Everything about you, the taste of you, the smell of you, the fit of you. I love everything.” His voice cracked as he pulled her closer for another kiss.
Forever after she would have no memory of undressing or finding the bed. There were no gentle caresses or tender foreplay.
“Oh my God, Ron.” She moaned and gasped for breath. “I don’t need memory of another life to know that I’ve never experienced anything as incredible as this.” She felt tears flowing down her face.
“Sh-sh, it’s all right,” Ron crooned as he collapsed on top of her gasping for breath. “Sh-sh, it’s all right,” he soothed again. “It’s all right.”
Her sobbing eased.
“I’m sorry,” Ron gasped.
“Don’t you dare apologize.”
“But, I’ve never….” He stopped as if unable to find the words.
“Been so physical, so aggressive?” She supplied the words that worked for her.
“Yeah.” He blushed with the admission.
“Or so satisfied?”
“Yes.” It was a whisper, barely audible.
“Me too,” she said.
She didn’t know why Ron had come into her life. Maybe because the “voice” knew she needed someone? Whatever the reason, she thanked those beings up there that Ron was here with her and that she could let him into her life—to a point. She smiled up at him, happier than she had been in a long, long time.
Ron stroked her cheek with his fingers and kissed her nose. “The very first time I saw you, I wanted to love you, until you were blind to everything but my face, deaf to everything but my voice. I wanted to love you until the world ceased to exist except for me, until there was nothing for you, but me. I wanted to keep you with me, just me, forever.”
She pushed him off and shifted to lie on top. “You’ve come close to having it. As close as anyone could.” Her kiss was not soft or gentle. She lowered herself to join with him and the wild spiral of desire and gratification began again.
A long time later, when their breathing was more or less normal, Ron shifted out from under to lie beside her propping his head on one hand. The moon cast light and shadow over their bodies. He traced the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast with his palm. He wove his fingers through the tangled curls of her hair. “I wanted to do this from the very first time I saw you,” h
e said. “So soft. I knew it would be. And the colors—”
“Not ready to embrace the gray,” she mumbled, almost asleep.
“You look so young and vulnerable it frightens me. You’re so small compared to me—delicate and fragile.”
“I won’t break,” she protested.
“I know. I know how deceptive appearances are. You’re strong in every way. But, still, I want to cradle you in my arms and protect you from all harm.” He raised her hand to kiss it, and traced the ragged edges of her fingernails with the pad of his thumb.
“Em, why—”
“M?”
“That’s my private name for you.”
“M as in the letter?”
“E-m,” he spelled. “You don’t mind?”
“No one has ever called me that before. I like it.”
She reached to caress him and all thoughts of fingernails were gone.
*
I gloried in the sight of her out there on the deck. Her eyes shone, her hair glinted red-gold in the moonlight. She wore the black party dress still and her bare feet peeping from under the skirt as she walked toward Ron were strangely provocative. Who would have thought something that simple could be so … so … I wondered if Ron could put a word to it, for his feelings seemed to match mine.
He needed to touch her, to ground himself with tactile proof of her. She needed his love. He needed to know she was real. She needed to know she was real. I realized with a heart-stopping jolt that they could do that for each other.
Oh Guardian, I can’t do this. I can’t. It should have been me. Me loving her, holding nothing back, giving her every ounce of my loving. Who, more than me, knew what she needed? Who? Ron? His love was nothing compared to mine. Ron, a mere mortal, loving Em?
I hadn’t intended to watch, but it happened so fast, and I got caught up in the passion of it. I cursed and railed against the Grand Council. They gave me this assignment, let me fall in love with her, a woman I couldn’t have, a woman I was supposed to feel nothing for. No emotion, remember. No emotion.
Strictly speaking of course, they didn’t let me fall in love with her. I did that on my own against all the rules, against all the laws set by the Guardians, laws that were never to be broken.
Ron’s voice, when he spoke with Em, was raw with the emotion surging through him. Emotion that should have been mine. Was mine!
I studied Em carefully. His aggression and passion had been so crushing. She should have been mad. I wanted her to be angry, to push him away, to leave, transport herself. But, she wasn’t angry. Satisfied, yes, not angry.