Sins of Omission (10 page)

Her eyes opened, bathing him with the splendor of her passions. Every turn and curve of her body was a song, a lyric poem. And when she whispered the pleasure she took in him, her voice was deep and husky, reminding him that she was a woman like no other.

Together they found the culmination of their desires. Together they breathed as one, falling, drowning in the sea of their desires.

They lay together on the rich Barguzin sable for a long time, touching each other. There were no words; none were necessary, all had been said and experienced.

 

It was dusk when Mickey heard Reuben's stomach rumble ominously. “
Mon Dieu!
What kind of woman am I? I gave you no lunch,” she cried unhappily.

“You fed me in other ways,” Reuben said quietly. “Mickey, I have never—”

Mickey placed a gentle finger over Reuben's lips. “Shhh, do not say the words. It is too soon, and I don't know if you should ever say them. This is now,
chéri.
Tomorrow and the day after tomorrow will take care of themselves. Words, my darling, can wound one's soul if they do not come from the heart. Always remember that. During lovemaking it is allowed,” she added hastily. “Often one lover will say sweet words to the other because that is what they think they want to hear. It is better to say nothing. Do you understand,
chéri?
”

“Yeah, sure,” Reuben said, sounding for all the world like a chastened schoolboy.

“Do not pout,
chéri.
These things must be said now so there is no hurt to either of us later. You must understand the difference between love and lust. There is a very big difference. Someday you will love a woman so much you will want to offer her your soul. Lust is a mingling of two people for the moment. Lust is when a man or a woman walks away and never looks back. Love is when a man or a woman looks back and…smiles.”

Reuben's mood turned sour. “Have you ever loved like that?” He hated asking the question, but he had to know.

“But of course,
chéri,
” Mickey lied smoothly. “But of course.”

Reuben ground his teeth together so hard he thought his jaw would crack. Angrily he climbed back into the driver's seat and threw the roadster in gear. Mickey was jerked forward unexpectedly, forced to hang on for dear life as the car roared down the road. But she hardly noticed how fast Reuben was driving, so intent was she on the blinding tears in her eyes.

The days leading up to Thanksgiving passed swiftly. The dinner hour was the end of a busy day that began at dawn. The Three Musketeers met, dined, and talked. Daniel was full of praise for Pierre Faroux and regaled Mickey and Reuben nightly with his accomplishments. Once or twice, so pleased was Pierre with his pupil's progress, he stayed to dinner to assure Mickey that she'd made the right decision about Daniel. He was so quick, so bright! Faroux insisted his pupil had already far surpassed what Americans required for a high school diploma and was now plowing through college-level material.

Reuben beamed like a proud father when he listened to discussions on law and other matters. It was clear that Daniel was holding his own and several times bested the old Frenchman with queries he couldn't respond to. Daniel's thirst for knowledge was being sated at last.

If Daniel was aware of the change in Reuben and Mickey, he gave no sign. He was so caught up in his studies, he was almost oblivious to their private little exchanges. When he noticed the hand touching, the knowing smiles, the intimate glances, he was pleased for his friend.

It was a glorious time for Reuben as well as for Mickey. They were together constantly, taking care of the château, working companionably in the barn with the animals, seeing to the massive wine cellars, and always making love at any time of the day in any given place. Theirs was a robust, spontaneous relationship in which both of them reveled. Often they'd walk for hours, their hands entwined, overseeing this task or that domestic problem.

It wasn't only Daniel who was receiving an education. In subtle ways and often in blunt, forthright words, Mickey was teaching Reuben the ways of the world. The only difference between Daniel and Reuben was that Reuben didn't ask questions. Everything Mickey said, everything she alluded to, every nuance, every warning, was tucked away—but not before it was categorized and filed in his brain. He had the wonderful ability to stop and search his mind for a second, then come up with exactly the right answer whenever Mickey quizzed him. He'd laugh when she showed surprise. “I never forget anything.”

“Elephants are like that,” Mickey joked.

 

The night before Thanksgiving, Mickey presented Reuben with a book that had arrived from America. She had things to do, she said, a surprise, and he should read while she finished her preparations.

Reuben accepted her offering—the latest Zane Grey novel—with pleasure and settled himself in the library with Daniel. He showed Daniel the new book. “It's a tale of the joining of East and West by rail.”

Daniel looked up long enough to smile, then settled back in his chair, the reading lamp aimed at the book on his lap. Reuben shook his head and smiled at his friend—his learned, literary friend. Then he, too, began to read.

In the kitchens Mickey huddled with the bevy of extra cooks she'd hired from the village. “You understand now, it must be just the way they do it in America. The turkey is to be at least thirty pounds. We have that,” she said, ticking off items on her list. “Chestnut and raisin dressing and candied yams, white potatoes that are mashed, turnips that are also mashed, vegetables fresh from the root cellar, peas, beans, and carrots. I have secured some Echiré butter, the best in the world, and you will make light fluffy dinner rolls that melt in the mouth. They must melt in the mouth because that is what Reuben hungers for. The pies are to have a flaky, delicate crust—pumpkin, mince, pecan, and one berry. Blackberry, I think. We must use canned berries from the storeroom. Do you think he will notice the difference?” she asked the cook fretfully.

“No, madame. It will be perfection.”

“
Mon Dieu,
I almost forgot the soup. Noodle, and there is something called a noodle pudding that Reuben likes. I have it written down here somewhere. Nanette made the noodles last night. And we must have a garden salad of some sort. You will have to forage in the cellar. If you can't come up with something that is going to be perfectly fresh, at least make it look pretty. Americans like fresh raw vegetables.” She shrugged to show she herself couldn't understand. “Fresh ground coffee, but don't grind the beans until you are ready to boil the water. Tell me, did I overlook anything? Will there be enough time for you to prepare all of this for three o'clock tomorrow?”

“There is no problem, madame. It will be a feast fit for a king!”

“I'll select the wines now. There must be flowers on the table. The best linen cloth and finest dishes and crystal.”

In the wine cellar Mickey leaned back against one of the huge barrels that hadn't as yet been tapped. She'd gotten so much pleasure out of arranging this special dinner for Reuben and Daniel. She'd do anything, anything at all to bring a smile to Reuben's face and that warm, intimate look to his eyes.

These past days had been so exquisite. She would no longer fool herself.

She was in love with the young American, deeply in love. And expert that she was in the ways of men, she felt he, too, was in love with her—for now. Yet she refused to listen to his pleadings and his vows of eternal love. Of course, they were words she wanted to hear, words she would remember and dream about when he was gone. Because one day, all too soon, he would return to his own land, where he belonged. Until then each day, each hour, was to be lived to the fullest.

She wondered if the arrival next week of Bebe Rosen—the daughter of her American cousin Sol Rosen—would affect her relationship with Reuben. Certainly she and Reuben would have to give up most of their private time to entertain the visitor from California. Already Mickey felt jealous. Bebe would be vivacious and pretty. If she was anything like Mickey had been at her age, she would flirt with Reuben, try to play boy-girl games with him. And what would she, Mickey, do? Stand by and eat herself up with jealousy? Perhaps she was being unfair. Bebe might be a bookworm like Daniel, or she might be shy and keep to herself…. Not likely, since she was Sol's daughter and—from Sol's own description—spoiled rotten. Sol had said she was a brat, a willful, spoiled young woman who pouted and finagled and manipulated till she got what she wanted. In other words, a handful.

Bebe's skin would be smooth and flawless without the need of rouge and mascara. She'd be lithe and shapely, wearing the latest in American fashion. And she'd be able to talk to Reuben about things in America. They would have so many things in common, mainly their youth.

What would Reuben think when he saw the two women side by side, the fresh-faced girl and the middle-aged woman he was living with? Her heart thudded in her chest. If it was going to happen, let it happen now before Reuben's hold on her became so overpowering she'd do foolish things to keep him. At the beginning of the affair she'd sworn to herself that she'd never do anything to mar her dignity. As Marchioness Michelene Fonsard, she had an image to protect. When Reuben finally left her he'd remember her that way, not as some
midinette
begging him to stay, offering him money, anything so he wouldn't leave. The thought made her cringe.

No, she would not let her fears run away with her…or her jealousy. Jealousy could destroy. If there was one thing she didn't want to do, it was destroy what she had right now. She would treat Bebe kindly and gently, the same way she treated Daniel. Tonight she would pray that the young girl would find Daniel an engrossing companion.

Two weeks wouldn't be an eternity. They would all survive young Bebe's visit, then give her a rousing send-off when she was ready to leave for England for the second leg of her European visit. Mickey laughed. Here she was arranging for Bebe's departure and she hadn't even arrived yet.

Mickey deposited the wine bottles in the kitchen and ordered a pot of hot chocolate and a plate of cake. While she waited she wondered if anyone would ever go to this much trouble again for Reuben. Tears burned her eyes but she willed them away with a fierceness she didn't know she possessed.

 

Reuben and Daniel put their books aside for Mickey's late night snack.

Something was wrong, Reuben could sense it. Mickey's eyes were too bright, her smile too tight. She'd been acting differently these past few days. Not exactly preoccupied, but she wasn't always totally with him. Several times he'd caught her gazing through him as if he weren't there. Once he questioned her, thinking he'd done something to offend her or that she was tiring of him. She'd wrapped her arms around him and looked deeply into his eyes. “No,
chéri.
If you did something to displease me, I would tell you. We made a bargain, did we not? Honesty at all times. Sometimes I think honesty between two people is more important than love.” He'd let it drop then, but the strange look was still in her eyes.

Maybe it was the young girl who was coming to visit. Mickey had joked about keeping her busy, entertaining her. She'd said something like “you young people will have much in common,” implying that she was old; the same old sore subject. He hadn't seen it that way at all and told her so. Although she'd acted amused, her mood had changed and she'd been warm but silent after that.

It was Reuben's first experience with jealousy, and he didn't know how to handle it. If he had more experience…if he'd had women, girls even. Old George had said women fought with each other over men, pulling hair and scratching at each other. He'd called them cat fights.

Reuben's eyes were questioning when Mickey pecked him on the cheek. She blew Daniel a kiss. “Good night,
chéris.
No, no, don't get up. I will see both of you in the morning.”

Reuben nodded, thinking it must be “that time of the month.” He felt better almost immediately. Now he could spend some time with Daniel.

“Are you happy, Daniel?” he asked, leaning back against the soft cushions of the settee.

“I was thinking about that earlier in the evening. I am, thanks to you. There's so much to learn, and Monsieur is being patient with me. He never seems to tire of my questions. My head just buzzes. What about you, Reuben? We see each other only for breakfast and dinner. Listen, if you think it's time for us to leave or…” He floundered for the right words. “Don't stay on my account. Promise me.”

“Daniel, look at me. Do I look like I want to leave? I'm having the time of my life. It's not time for us to leave yet. And don't worry, I'll let you know. This is good for both of us.”

“You're happy, then?” Daniel's voice was full of concern.

“Very happy. I'm learning, too. We're going to make a good business team someday. Now, tell me what you think of Bebe Rosen's visit. What do we do with the young lady? Mickey wants us to be sure she has a good time. That means you must give up several hours a day, and so must I.”

Daniel blinked at the intensity in Reuben's voice. So…

“Another thing. Next month it will be Christmas. We have to think about a present for Mickey. I have all our pay intact. We must get her something so special, she can remember us after…you know…when we leave.”

“Maybe Bebe will have some idea,” Daniel said thoughtfully. “Girls always know about things like that. Mickey already has everything. What could we give her that would make up for all this?”

Reuben shook his head. “The cost of the gift isn't important. It's the thought and the effort that goes into the gift. We're going to have to be inventive and original. I did sort of have an idea, though.”

“What is it?” Daniel asked.

“It might not work. I'm going to go to the village tomorrow and make some inquiries. If I get the right answers, I'll tell you tomorrow.”

Daniel shrugged. “That's fine with me. Listen, I hate to bring this up, but have you thought about going back to America?”

“No, not yet. I think we're going to stay for a while.” Reuben smiled at Daniel's happy face. “In the meantime, I mentioned trying to get a job in the village, and Mickey convinced me there was plenty of work here. She asked me to come up with things I'd like to get involved in, and I think I've got some ideas. For instance, I'm sure her wines would be great in the States.”

“Have you mentioned it to her yet?”

“No, not yet…but soon, very soon. I don't like mooching off her like this.”

Daniel read Reuben's thoughts and changed the subject. His friend would handle it, and besides, he felt exactly the same way. There didn't seem to be any way he could pay her back now. Someday, though, he knew he would turn himself inside out to do just that.

“How are your eyes, Daniel?” Reuben asked. “The truth.”

“Much better. They hardly tear at all now. By late afternoon, though, I have to have the compresses. It feels good to keep them closed for an hour or so. Can't see things at a distance too well, but I can see. That's enough for me. I'm going to have to wear glasses later on. That doesn't bother me, though.”

“Good! And the shoulder?”

“A little stiff in the morning, but otherwise no problems. How's your leg?”

Reuben laughed. “A bit stiff in the morning, but okay. Depends on what I'm doing. The other day I was moving some grape boxes, and it bothered me. We're both going to be fine, considering we came
that
close to being dead.”

“I know. Sometimes I wake up in a sweat. I try not to think about it. Each day it gets better. How's your vision?”

“Impaired. I have very little sight in my left eye. The right one isn't quite normal. How do you think I'll look in spectacles?”

“Reuben! You never said a word! Why? Why didn't you tell me?” Daniel cried.

“Because I was afraid you'd think the same thing was going to happen to you. There's nothing either of us can do about it. And I know you, Daniel, you'd start feeling guilty that you fared better than me. It's over. We're both going to live with it.”