Glass (4 page)

She shook her head. “Worthless. Of course, that was then. Now, it is old, and though not what Fredrick thought it was, it has its own price.”

“She doesn’t want to remember Fredrick,” he said.

“No. She’s removed him from the house as well.”

He lowered the sheet and moved to the next object. This proved to be a small, round pedestal table. It didn’t seem remarkable at all. “Also Fredrick’s?” he asked.

“No, that was hers.”

He raised his gaze. “Should I ask why she hates it?”

“I’m not sure I know. She sent it up here about two years ago.”

“Two years? You’ve lived here all that time?”

Cerise inclined her head.
“On and off. I leave to see my mother sometimes.”

He re
-covered the table and faced her, folding his arms over his chest. “Objects of great beauty shouldn’t be left on a shelf and ignored, but placed in the open where their worth can be seen by all.”

Her face
became a study, emotion flitting across like a cloud on a sunny afternoon. She hid her feelings always, but not particularly well. To his eye, they were there in little ways, clear evidence of a young life left to fend for a grandmother with what looked like little affection for her and a mother with a broken heart.

A bell
tinkled through the walls from somewhere distant, and her face cleared, her mask returning. She moved toward the stairs. “I must go. My grandmother calls.”

The door opened and shut, and
she was gone.

He stared a
fter her, the sway of her hips and gentle slope of her waist foremost in his thoughts. She was, of all the things held in this house, the one most priceless. Why couldn’t she see that? Worse, what exactly was he going to do about it?

***

Cerise entered her grandmother’s suite clinging to the dignity that held her together most days and found her seated at a small table clothed in a fantastic mauve silk gown. The bell she’d rung lay on its side in the floor. Cerise stooped for it and sat it on the bedside table where a single lamp gleamed.

“You look well,” she said.
As well as could be noticed in the low light.
She kissed her grandmother’s papery cheek, inhaling the scent of menthol and the lavender lotion she used on her fingers.

“I feel better. Was a bit under the weather this morning …”

At the phrase
under the weather
, her grandmother smiled and glanced toward the window. The drapes had been drawn over the glass, shutting out the storm’s random flashes of light. This added to the gloom.

Cerise
held back a frown. “I’m glad to see it. Are you coming down for supper then?”

She came down as often as she stayed upstairs. Her moods were variable, and she
usually did what suited them. Cerise wasn’t surprised by the response.

“I thought I’d take it in the conservatory.”

The conservatory. That meant
no
, she wasn’t coming down.

“I can send Mimi to you,” Cerise offered.

Her grandmother only nodded slightly at this, then patted the empty seat at her side. “Sit. I want to know how Mr. Garner is doing.”

Cerise
obeyed, her emotions rising within her, and eyed her grandmother. Andre had said she’d planned this – him and her being stuck together. And it did seem that way. But her motive was lacking.

Was it simply because h
is father had loved her mother? This then was some sort of test. Or did her grandmother cling to thoughts of the old curse? Did either one even matter?

She
was attracted to him. He was handsome and well-spoken. He was tender, as evidenced by their conversation. But nothing could come of it in the space of a day or two. Surely, her grandmother realized that.

Perhaps instead, her grandmother
thought they’d not get along; they’d argue. Then what? It’d cause a fracture? If that was the case, again, why did that matter? He’d come and go, do what he was brought here to do, and it wouldn’t matter in the long run. She could easily avoid him.

Her stomach curled into a fist. She didn’t want
to avoid him.

Her grandmother’s lips pressed t
hin. “You can’t talk?”

Cerise allowed herself a shallow breath.
“Of course, I can.” she said. “If you are concerned, then you should come down and see him for yourself. He appears to be fine, though perhaps a trifle bored.”

“Bored?” Her
grandmother laughed, a grating sound. “Then you are not doing your job.”

Cerise prayed the
flash of heat in her gut would settle. It wouldn’t pay to get angry. Her grandmother would only make things more miserable for everyone. “I was never made aware I’d have to spend quite so much time with
your
guest. You sprang him on me like a rabbit out of a hat.”

Her grandmother’s long, b
ony fingers patted her arm, an irritating gesture. “There now, child, I simply didn’t have time.”

Didn’t have time?
Right.
Cerise worked to even her voice, but it emerged clipped. “You knew who he was when you called him. You didn’t think
I
should be informed?”

She, more than anyone, deserved to know it was Lev
i Garner’s son coming. Though in the end Andre was ignorant of it all and she didn’t hold that against him, her grandmother’s behavior had been at the least, unfair and at the most, rude.

Her grandmother’s icy stare shut her up.
“I am not required to inform anyone of my choices.”

Not required? Cerise stewed on the thought. Something that was so dear to her, a story that had even, one could say, brought her into existence, yet
she
was so unimportant that she needn’t be informed. She chewed on her lip. She wouldn’t rise to the bait. Let the old woman believe things were happening just as she planned or let her believe nothing was happening. Neither one obligated her to share the state of her heart.

Cerise
rose from her seat, a motion which brought a sniff from her grandmother.

“You’d leave me so soon?” she asked.

Cerise focused her gaze on her aged face. “We have a guest, and as you’ve just noted, I have a job to do. I pray you’re well enough in the morning to greet him and that the weather clears.”

Though the thought of that brought his leaving to mind and a hollow
developed in the pit of her stomach.

CHAPTER 4

Andre entertained himself for several hours in the library, pouring over ancient tomes he’d bet were worth as much, if not more, than the art glass he’d yet to see. He wandered into the parlor afterward half-hoping Cerise would appear, but it wasn’t until supper was served that he saw her again.

S
he seemed agitated, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. Conversation during the meal was light and trivial, ranging over topics as mundane as politics, fishing reports, and gardening. She shared nothing personal and made no more missteps in her behavior until they left the room.

And that was only because he
caught hold of her sleeve in the hall. “You owe me a swim,” he said.

Her composure slipped
an inch. “Don’t you think we can call that off?”

He wrapped his fingers around her arm, sliding his grip upward.
“Oh, no. We made a deal.”

Her flesh rose warm beneath his palm, her heartbeat communicating
itself in a rapid throb. Why was she so afraid? Hadn’t he proven himself trustworthy?
Maybe not.
Behavior that took her years to form wouldn’t fall in a day’s time. She trusted no one, it seemed.

He turned her around to face him and their eyes met. She
was
agitated. Over what? Her grandmother? There’d been no sign of the old woman all day.

“A simple swim, Cerise,” he said.
“Me and you in the pool.”

Her bottom lip twitched. She stilled it with an exhalation.
“Very well. We’ll say in an hour?”

He nodded and detached his hand. She promptly whisked away.
It was a long hour, one he shortened by going to the pool way ahead of time. He entered several dressing rooms, picking through the swimwear hanging there, much of it being rather out of date, and finally selected some passable trunks. He hunted up bath towels as well from a large wooden cabinet in one of the dressing rooms.

H
e changed and reentered the pool area, seating himself on the edge. The water was warm. Lights aimed at the surface reflected the steady rain pounding the stained glass and the colors it contained, giving the impression of a multicolored sea. What kind of man demanded expensive stained glass as decoration for a pool?

Andre
was contemplating this when Cerise appeared. She came in a door he hadn’t noticed before, one situated in the back corner. She was, as she’d been all day, impeccably arranged, every hair in place, but she’d put on a bathrobe and cinched it at the waist. She paused at the sight of him.

“Do I pass?” he asked. His voice sounded loud in the enormous space.

She stepped closer, but stopped again at the end of the pool. Her cheeks had pinked and her eyes were bright. She inclined her head. “You are a handsome man, Mr. Garner.”

“A compliment
again,” he said. “First, my eyes and now what? My naked chest?”

She smiled slightly. “I
am
a woman and you
are
a man. Besides, isn’t that what this is about? A battle of the sexes, if you will.”

“A battle?
I’m not fighting. I’m extremely passive.”

She laughed lightly. “I believe that.”

He splashed the water into the air with his toes. It was comfortably warm, ironic given the bad weather. “So you’ve seen mine. Your turn.”

She lifted a hand to her waist and loosened the sash. The edges of the robe drifted apart, but she made no effort to remove it.

“A glimpse,” he said. A glimpse of lovely slender legs, shapely thighs, and not much else. “Tell you what … I’ll get in and you can join me.” That said, he slipped into the water, plunging beneath the surface and rising at her feet.

Still she stood there.

“Cerise?”

She curled and uncurled her hands, her breathing erratic.

“What is it? Is your grandmother …” he began.

Her hands became tight fists.
“As aggravating as ever. She berated me. Told me I wasn’t doing my job because you were ‘bored.’ My words. Then kept me busy all afternoon so I couldn’t get away. I tried twice, only to have Mimi or Yolanda call for me again. This is why like solitude. I don’t have to put up with … with her.”

He extended his hand. “You’re here now. Come swim with me and forget about it.”

She didn’t move, and he exhaled. “What is it now? I’m beginning to think I have horns.”

“I …” Her voice cracked.

“You what? You want what I’m going to say about you in advance? Is that it? Okay, here goes. You’re very beautiful. I saw that the first moment we met. I’ve said as much already, and …”

“
Th-that’s not it.”

He quieted.
“Then what?”

She uncurled her
fingers one at a time and splayed her hand outward. “I can’t swim.”

“Can’t swim?”

Such a simple thing, and he should have thought of it. But why wouldn’t she know how with such a huge pool at her disposal? Anyhow, he’d asked her before and she’d said––

“You said swimming was good exercise.”
Knowledge dawned. Not that she swam, but a blanket statement meant to throw him off, and so it had.

She
folded her lip between her teeth and gave a nod. Her face was flushed red now. “So you see, we shouldn’t do this,” she said.

He tilted his head. “We
will
do this. I’ll help you. Go around the shallow end, and I’ll meet you there.”

“I don’t know. I …”

“No excuses. You need to learn to trust someone, Cerise. Not every person is out to get you. I certainly have no motive. This is simply time with two friends.”

She stared at him, her gaze intense. “Are we
friends?”

She had doubts? Sure, they’d just met, but he’d made nothing but sociable gestures to her.
“All good things start with friendship,” he said. “Forget our shared past, and think only of right now – the two of us together, enjoying this time.”

“It’s what she wants.”

Confused, he wrinkled his brow.
She, her grandmother?
He hung one arm over the side of the pool. “What’s what she wants?”

“To torment me.
She brought you here, knowing … knowing …” She drew in her breath.

He waited. Whatever this was
that was bothering her, she’d have to tell it on her own time.

“Knowing you
had
to be like him. Knowing what happened with my mother and planning all the while to leave us together and you to disappear afterward. She’s simply recreating that horrible event all over again.”

With that, s
he spun around on her heel and headed for the door.

***

Her heart crammed in her throat along with all the words she’d blurted and quickening her steps, she made for the exit. But his hands snagged her waist, yanking her short. She struggled briefly, futile. He was stronger than her.

And wa
rm from the heat of the water. He turned her around and tucked her to him, the moisture of his body seeping through her bathrobe. They stood this way for several minutes then he tipped his head back and met her eyes. Unspeaking, he reached behind her head and plucked out her hair pins. She counted them. Force of habit had her always using five. The fifth one gone, her hair slipped free, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back.

He
lifted it in his hands, and turned her face upward. “Beautiful, as I said. You hide yourself away, and that makes this more special. That I’m the guy lucky enough to see it.”

“L
uck?” she asked quietly. “I thought you Christians were all about faith.”

He smiled. “We are, but sometimes life hands you something.”
His gaze lingered. “I’ll be your friend if you’ll let me.”

The lump i
n her throat precluded words, and for a few seconds she hesitated. “What of tomorrow?”

“What of it?” he asked. “
This is tonight. This is me and you. Do you trust me, Cerise?”

Trust.
The word reverberated in her brain. She’d never trusted anyone but herself because people always let her down. But he was … was … solid and firm, tangible. He made her conscious of her femininity, made her feel desirable.

Yet that was perhaps an illusion.

“All of this is a trick of the light and the senses,” she said. “Like the color on the water. You think you’ll dive into a pool of rubies, but really it’s the same as any other swimming pool.”

He tipped his head left, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.
“You want to believe,” he stated. “In me. In yourself.”

Yes, she did, and she wanted to give in to her feelings for once, to let her heart override her head.
“I’m caught on the edge,” she replied. “Teetering between what I’ve been and what you’re asking of me.”

He traced the line o
f her cheek with his thumb. “I’m not asking anything but for you to simply ‘be’ for once.”

“Out of control?”

“In
my
control.” He took hold of her robe and slipped it from her shoulders, stroking its path downward with his fingertips and inhaling sharply as it hit the floor.

Cool air, suspended in the large room, rushed over her exposed abdomen. She’d selected the swimsuit
from one of the dressing rooms during her one free moment that afternoon, not wanting to have to do so with him watching. Whose it had been originally was a mystery, but the two pieces fit like a glove. Too much like a glove for her taste.

“God, help me, you’
re gorgeous,” he said.

She fixed her gaze on his.
“Surely, you’ve seen women in a swimsuit before.”

He smiled softly. “None that I wanted to swim with. Alone.”

Alone.
Heat flared in her belly. “Why?” she breathed.

He didn’t reply but took her hand and tugged he
r toward the pool. Moving to the shallow end, he went in ahead, facing backward, her fingers twined in his.

She pushed down
her panic and reminded herself that she
wanted
to do this, wanted to spend time with him, to be the woman alone with him. The water swirled around her legs, rising higher as she descended. She tightened her grip on his hands.

The water chest high, h
e brought her to a halt. “Okay, now, turn around.”

“Around?”

He made a spinning motion with his fingers. Uncertain, she obeyed. Maybe this was one of those trust exercises people did. Well, she was trying, but the water was still there and she was still in it.

In one motion,
he scooped her off her feet, and she squealed. His laughter overrode the noise and the splash of his legs, moving them deeper in the pool.

“
Where are we going?” she asked, her voice shrill.

He
made no comment, but swam to the far side and placed his back to the pool edging. He entwined their arms together and settled her face-outward on his chest. “You’re safe.”

And you’re
magical.
Her eyes had flown open at the first sudden movement, but now she shut them again, hearing only the plink of water dripping from her chin and swish of his breath in her ear. His body heat and that of the pool sent her into a dreamlike state and the illusion returned. In the morning, she’d look back and not believe in any of this, not believe a man so handsome paid her any mind, nor how easy it seemed right then to set her unsure thoughts aside.

His hand drifted
outward and he raised a strand of her hair in his fingers. “Your mother’s hair?”

“No. Hers is brown. Grandmother’s hair was blonde in her youth.”

“What about your grandfather’s?”

“
Blond, but not like hers. My father looked much like him.”

He released
the strand and slipped from behind her. “Okay, now, you’re going to swim. Hold onto the side.” He placed her hands on the edge.

“Wait … where are you going? Don’t … please.”

But he’d detached himself and swam out several arms’ lengths. “When I count to three, I want you to let go and push yourself off as hard as you can. I’ll catch you.”

Fear spiked up her spine.
“I can’t. It’s so deep. What if …”

“Part of swimming is not being afraid, Cerise. You have to move past the fear.”

“But I
am
afraid, and you’re … Don’t go out any further.”

He smiled.
“Big prize for your efforts.”

She quieted.
“A prize?”

“I promise
not to let you drown.”

Was that the prize?

He opened his arms. “On the count of three.” He was so self-assured, so determined. Was his father that like?