Girl in the Mirror (24 page)

Michael spent the next few hours making love to Charlotte in front of the fire, complimenting her on how the fire made her skin glow, then proceeding to make her glow even more by bringing her to climax once, then several times more, proving to her in actions as well as words how much he had missed her.

Afterward, the glow they felt was more from the gentle rocking in each other’s arms, the sharing of dreams for the future and the comfort in knowing that what they shared was very, very special. They wrapped themselves up in a blanket and sat on a sheepskin before the fire, his legs straddled around her and his chin resting atop her head. She could feel the tickle of his coarse leg hair against her soft thighs, hear the bass of his voice, always so low after lovemaking.

“Michael, do you think we’ll always be this happy?”

“Of course. I don’t see why not.”

“These separations aren’t easy for us. The next film will take me to France for several months.”

She heard his low grumble of discontent. “It’s the slow season. I can come visit you on the set.”

“Only if you promise not to watch the love scenes.”

He mumbled something in Spanish, tightening his arms around her and settling his chin in her neck.

“Michael, what did you do with those drawings you made for the house? You know, the ones you sketched when you first saw the site?”

She could feel his smile. “I’ve still got them. I never throw a design out. Let me guess. Now that you’re a landowner you have visions of grandeur.”

Now it was her turn to smile. “More like redemption. I seem to remember you called the house the proverbial sow’s ear and how you could transform it into a silk purse. Something to complement the garden.” She turned in his arms, her face lit with excitement. “I want to do it, Michael. Really. I loved the drawings. Knew the minute I saw them I would do it if I could. Sometimes when I’m in the garden, when I look back at the house, I see your design. I make a few changes.”

“You make changes, do you?”

“Of course.” A smile twitched her lips. “I play little games in my imagination. I want a bathroom with a big mirror, so I can look at myself every day and not be afraid of what I see. And a dressing table, like I’ve seen in the magazines. One for Melanie, too. Such silly things I want, Michael, and I want them now. I don’t want to wait. I feel like I’ve been waiting for things for most of my life.”

“What’s brought about all this? You won’t even be home one week out of every four for the next several months.”

She heard the frustration in his voice and cupped his face in her hands, shaking his head gently. “All the more reason why I need a home to return to. A base. I used to think that making movies was so glamorous. Exciting locations, fancy hotels, elaborate parties. It is all that, some of the time. Most of the time, however, it’s trailers, carryout food, rise and shine at dawn and crash late at night, new lines to memorize and then publicity and promo interviews in between.

“Ah, Michael, don’t you see? When I’m alone out there I need to think about this house, and how you’ve designed something special for me here. And it’ll be good for Mel to be part of it. Getting her involved in the design.”

“I’m sure she’ll have plenty of ideas for the kitchen.” He was warming to the idea.

“Yes,” she said, clasping her hands together. “I want Melanie to design the kitchen to suit her. It’s perfect. She won’t feel so alone while I’m gone if she has something like that to keep her busy.” She looked at Michael, her eyes entreating. “You will keep an eye on her while I’m away, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course I will. It’s just like you to worry about someone else. Who will keep an eye on you?”

“That’s Freddy’s job. He’s always hounding me to eat right, to exercise, to get my rest.”

Michael scowled. “I hate that guy. Don’t trust him. He sees you as his meal ticket, Charlotte, not as his friend.”

She pressed her fingers against his lips. “Shhh. I need both of you, so I’m going to ask you the same thing I ask him. Don’t get on my case about him. He’s my agent. He’s doing a good job, and I can’t do this without him.” She took a deep breath. “My career means a great deal to me. I’m committed to it. And to him. Things are just beginning to take off now. I can’t—I won’t—let anything get in the way.”

“Or anyone?”

“Why even draw that line in the sand? I love you. I don’t see any reason why my career should interfere with what we have. You just have to be understanding of what it is I do. You can’t be so jealous, Michael.”

“Can’t I?” He moved away from her and grabbed his champagne flute, drinking the contents of his glass in one gulp. “Maybe a career’s not everything.”

She looked at him, his dark eyes fathomless in the fire’s light. “What do you mean?”

He told her then about Bobby and his battle with AIDS, and then in a halting voice, his own decision to stay in California, at least for as long as it took for Bobby to stabilize. Or, to help him face his death.

“My career isn’t as important as it once was,” he tried to explain. “When I hear you imply, under all your goals, that you’d give up what we have for the sake of your career, of course I worry. Do I mean that little to you, Charlotte?”

“No, of course not,” she exclaimed. “I’m not saying that. Michael, this isn’t the same thing.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, it’s not. You
are
an architect. Your training is done. You can build anywhere, anytime. It’s not the same in my business. I have to make it now, or possibly lose my chance. This is my moment.”

“Life is a series of moments, Charlotte. Don’t deceive yourself into thinking that this is the only one. Believe me. The best-laid plans of mice and men.” He took her hands in his. “What matters, Charlotte, is what we have between us. The love. The honesty. The complete trust. This doesn’t happen every day. It has to be protected and guarded. Nurtured, like any plant in any garden.”

“I agree, Michael. But my career means a great deal to me, too. Why do you think I must make a choice?”

“I thought my position at the architectural firm in Chicago meant everything to me. Then I came home again and realized what I had given up to achieve that goal. My brother and I were strangers. He didn’t even call me when he found out he was dying. How do you think that made me feel? What did my career matter then, when I found out my brother was in trouble? I had deserted him when he needed me most.”

Charlotte moved closer to him, holding him in her arms as he tightened his eyes.

“What’s hardest now is that he is living a lie with my family. My father and my mother, they are blind to his being gay. To how sick he is—as I was. He can’t bring himself to tell them for fear that they will reject him. Even if it kills him, which it might. I’m the only one who knows.” He shook his head, clucking his tongue. “I hate living this lie. We are a family. We should be able to tell each other the truth.”

“You don’t hate Bobby for telling you all this?” she asked hesitatingly. “For the pain he’s caused you? And trouble?”

“Hate Bobby? Of course not. He told me the truth. He was honest. I am angry at my parents for doing this to Bobby. For forcing him to live the lie.”

She opened her mouth to tell him the truth hovering at her lips. “Michael, I…” She closed her mouth.

“You what?” He lifted her chin to look into her eyes.

She faltered. “I love you.”

His expression altered, became smoky with love and intent.

“Wait here.” He stood up and walked to where his clothes were lying on the floor.

Charlotte watched him as he strode across the room. He was so beautiful. She loved him so much. He loved her. Why couldn’t she tell him?

He bent double to dig into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a jeweler’s box. Flipping the top, he took out a ring and, returning to her side, cradled her back in his arms.

“This isn’t how I’d planned to do this, but…” He lifted her hand and poised the ring above it. “I knew in Maine, when I almost lost you, that you were my life. Will you wear this, Charlotte? Will you share my life?”

Charlotte stared at the diamond that glistened between his fingers, her eyes wide and her mouth gaping. She hadn’t expected to make this decision so quickly. It seemed too fast. Too soon. She hadn’t yet told him the truth about who she was. He had the right to know before he made this decision. But how could she risk it now? Risk not having him love her, honor her, cherish her, for ever and ever.

What matters, Charlotte, is what we have between us. The love. The honesty. The complete trust. This doesn’t happen every day.

She did love him. He didn’t know that his love was the bridge between the two Charlottes. That he made her whole. He only knew that she was Charlotte Godfrey, and that was how it should be. And Charlotte Godfrey
would
be honest with him. From this moment forward. Forever.

“Yes,” she replied, her happiness bringing tears to her eyes. “Of course I will.”

His eyes sparkled like the diamond he slipped on her finger. Then he hugged her tightly against him.

She held on to him, wrapping this treasured moment with joy and tucking it away on a high shelf in her mind to recall in the future. Looking over his shoulder, she stretched out her hand, wriggling the finger with the ring on it, admiring it.

“Mrs. Michael Mondragon,” she said, feeling the words in her mouth. “Charlotte Mondragon. Mrs. Mondragon. Mondragon…” She paused, then laughed brightly. “My dragon. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that before? That’s what I’m going to call you. My Dragon. You
are
my dragon, you know.”

“How so?”

“You challenge me. You made me fight my anger and loneliness.” Her voice grew soft. “You made me believe in dreams again.”

He kissed her cheek and tightened his arm around her.

“I was hoping it was because I lit your fire.”

She laughed again, heartily. Then she turned in his arms, straddled his hips and proceeded to show him how right he was.

The phone rang four times before she heard Helena’s voice.

“Mama? Mama, it’s me. Charlotte.”

There was no reply, but she heard a quick intake of breath. She held the receiver tightly in both her hands and closed her eyes, willing her mother to respond.

“Mama, I have some good news. I’m getting married! Aren’t you happy, Mama? I finally found my
Someone.
He’s wonderful. Kind, hardworking. He’ll be a good provider, Mother. We want to get married in the church. And…” She rushed on, hearing no reply. “I bought a house. Isn’t that wonderful? You can come live with me. With us.”

There was no answer on the other end. Just a deathly silence. Charlotte clutched the phone tighter in her hands.

“Please say something, Mother. Please. I miss you so much.” Tears sprang to her eyes and her voice caught in her throat. “Mama?”

She heard the click of a phone, then the harsh buzz of disconnection. Drooping her head, Charlotte lay the receiver back in its nest, lowered her head upon her hands and wept.

Freddy was seething with fury when Charlotte showed him the ring and told him the news of her engagement. This time, however, he was more careful to conceal it. Charlotte was due to start her first leading role, and the early reviews of her work in
American Homestead
were drawing critical acclaim. Word was also out that she was brilliant in the just completed
One Day in Autumn
as well. There was a definite buzz about her now. Her name was hot, strictly A list, and the offers were tumbling in. Big offers.

Her biggest break yet was this new film, the remake of
Camille.
Joel Schaeffer, director extraordinaire, had long desired to direct this project and Charlotte had won the role of Marguerite over Thurman, Paltrow, and a dozen other big Hollywood stars. It was a plum part. Charlotte was born for the role and Schaeffer was genius enough to see it.

So right now Walen wanted her happy. No sense in stirring up the mud—which was exactly how he thought of Michael Mondragon.

“Listen to me, babe,” Freddy said, palm held out. “I’ve never given you bad advice. You’ve got to keep this engagement a secret.”

Charlotte tsked and shook her head no.

“I mean it. The timing’s all wrong.” He fought to keep anger out of his voice. “We made a deal, you and me. I’ve kept my part of the bargain. I told you it was going to be rough. I told you that you’d have to trust me. You gave me your hand. You swore.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Just for a while, babe. This film is going to be a blockbuster. Tell that matador of yours to cool it. The engagement’s off.”

She reared. “No, it’s not.”

“At least the ring is. Christ, Charlotte. With your looks, you could get a ring three times that size. Four.”

Charlotte looked at the one-carat diamond and thought she would never want anything more. “I’ll wear it around my neck,” she replied stubbornly.

Freddy knew when to quit. He’d take what he could get. Mondragon was the enemy. He’d won this battle and he had every intention of winning the war.