Life Is A Foreign Language (20 page)

He set the plant on the grass and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “You have some dirt on your forehead.” With a hand under her chin he rubbed a spot on her brow. They sat, smiling into each other’s eyes.

He withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. “You’re busy. Want me to come back another time?”

“No, I’m glad you’re here. I’m almost finished and I can do this another day.” She stood. “Give me a minute to clean these tools and bag the weeds. Be right with you.”

“Take your time.”

She stuffed the weeds in a heavy duty plastic bag, rinsed the tools and dried them with a rag. Hurrying to the bathroom, she washed her face and hands and brushed her hair that stood like a halo of curls from the humidity.

From the open bathroom door, Nina watched him search for a suitable spot for the plant. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so content. Nature was more lush, the colors more intense, the sky bluer than usual, and her heart beat a little faster because Michael was here.

She joined him. “Where do you think the frangipani would do well?” Her hair fell into her eyes and droplets of sweat splashed on her glasses, blurring her vision. She wiped them with a tissue.

He pointed at a spot in front of her bedroom window. “How about that open space over there? The light is right.”

“I’d like it there. I think I could see it from my bed when it’s taller.”

She grew misty eyed. Seldom had she received anything just for the pleasure the gift would bring her. Yes, André had often given her presents, expensive jewelry, cashmere pullovers, antique pieces of furniture and silver objects for the home. But she had often wished for something more personal, a book or simply his agreeing to accompany her to a concert, but he didn’t consider whether his gift brought her pleasure or not. She wasn’t sure he knew what her preferences were.

“It isn’t big,” Michael cradled the branch in his hand. “But it’ll grow.”

“Thanks for thinking of me. I love watching things grow.”

They strolled hand in hand in the direction of the front yard.

“Care for something to drink?”

He glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid I don’t have time. I’m taking Cindy for dinner and, as you know, we eat early in Cape Coral, so I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

She slowed her step. What was this? Had he come to kill an hour with her, until he could take his ex-wife for dinner?
He stops by to see me, bringing a gift he
knows I appreciate and then he’s off to take his ex-wife to dinner? He’s like a butterfly, changing the object of his consideration way too often.

“I won’t hide the fact that I’m disappointed. I thought we’d have more time to spend together.”

“While Cindy is in town I have certain obligations.”

“I know, Michael. Cindy isn’t the problem.” This wasn’t quite true—Cindy disturbed Nina in ways she was unable to pinpoint, but how could she admit this to Michael? This early in their burgeoning relationship she had no right to lay any claims to him, so she tried to skirt the issue.

Michael grabbed her by the arm. “Then what is the problem? Because you seem to think there is one.”

“It’s your behavior in general, as if you didn’t know where your priorities are. You’re wonderfully considerate of me, kind and attentive. We have plans to do something together. Then something comes up that’s more important, and I’m cancelled. Suddenly there’s somebody else who needs your attention, so you push me to the background. You tell me all these wonderful things, make these plans, like going to the beach, then act as if I was unimportant.”

“You’re being unreasonable. You know you’re important to me. But it’s frustrating having to defend myself for being friendly to Cindy or to anybody else.” He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Maybe we should stop seeing each other for a while, give you some time to think.”

Briefly she closed her eyes. Opening them, his face was hazy through tears she kept blinking away.

“No, I don’t need time to think,” she said.

“I don’t like feeling guilty for being kind.” He sighed. “Can’t you see what you’re doing, sweetie? We have something very good going for us, but you’re angry because I’m going to see Cindy.”

“I’m not angry. I feel … I don’t know … neglected, I guess.”

“Neglected? You have no reason.”

Careful now, I don’t want to take this too far. The question isn’t whether my emotions are justified. Legitimate or not, they’re there. Through his behavior he makes me feel ignored. It’s as if I become invisible.
Her hand shook when she held it out to him. “Let’s not argue, I can’t stand it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close, trembling with fear that she would lose him. “I don’t handle disappointments well,” she whispered close to his ear.

Against the curtain of cascading bougainvillea blossoms, Michael took her in his arms and pressed her to him. “Won’t you get it through your little head that I love you?”

Nina twined her fingers in his springy hair and covered his face with quick kisses, little nips of the lips. Her starving mouth found his. She ran her tongue along his lips, first one, then the other. As she opened her mouth, their kiss grew deep, hungry. His hardness pressed against her, but then his hands reached to untangle her arms from around his neck. He took a step back.

“Okay, apology accepted,” he said chuckling.

She sighed. “Good, I’m glad. Hurry now. Don’t be late.”

He brushed his lips against her forehead. “I’ll call you in the evening.”

“Do that.”

Whether she could stomach eating alone or not depended greatly on her mood, Nina realized. After the conversation with the twins her meal alone had seemed quite all right. Looking at the single place setting on the lanai table, Nina sighed;
there’s nothing more forlorn than a dining table set for one.
The argument with Michael stole her appetite. The food turned to sawdust in her mouth even before she tasted it. She had a few bites of flounder and half a tossed salad and disposed of the rest in the garbage.

While stacking the dishwasher, she had an idea. Leaving the dishes, she rushed into the office, found Walter Driscoll’s e-mail address and typed her message: “I’m divorced, living in Florida. Could do with a temp job, speaking assignment, lecture. Can travel. Got anything for me soon?” She typed her phone number and sent the message. Quickly, before she changed her mind. After she sent it she sank against the back of the chair, excited and anxious at what she’d done. Actually, she’d only sent a message asking for an assignment, she wasn’t committed, and it was possible that Walter wouldn’t respond or didn’t have anything suitable in the immediate future.

Nina wanted some credible reason to take her out of town, away from Michael. She needed space to think, to evaluate this convoluted situation. She wanted a break from the whole mess or
she
was going to break. Cindy and Michael and what Nina considered his inconsistent behavior all seemed to swirl and waltz around her in ways she didn’t understand and lacked the experience to interpret. Walter, her boss and supervisor from her years with Eastman & Merrill, was the answer. She hoped he had a card up his sleeve that suited her timeframe.

The phone on her desk jingled. Letting it ring she took a deep breath to still the trembling inside. When she thought she could talk without her voice giving away her agitation, she picked up the receiver.

“Hello,” she said.

She heard a chuckle and recognized Michael’s voice before he said, “Hi there. You sound breathless. Did I make you run?”

“No, I was right here by the phone. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Wanted to make sure you’re all right. Are you?”

“Oh yes.”

“Listen, come visit my place tomorrow. I’d like you to see the garden in the daylight.”

She wavered, hoping he didn’t notice. “I’d like to, yes.”

“Great. I have to be at the clinic in the morning. What if I come to fetch you in the afternoon? I’ll show you the garden and my home. We’ll have dinner. How does that sound?”

Sounds terrifying.
“Sounds nice. I’d love to see your garden …” the merest hesitation, “… and your home.”

“Cool. I’ll fetch you around three.” His voice low, tentative. “It’s so long.”

“What’s long?”

“Till tomorrow.”

Her laugh was soft.

“And Nina … I love you.” Before she could respond he hung up.

Nina wanted to see his home, to see him in his own setting, but she was apprehensive, the fist of fear making her stomach cramp. She thought of the old joke, “Come see my etchings,” then she scolded herself for being overly suspicious. This was Michael, not some sex-starved stranger. And she had been alone with him before, on many occasions. He was sensitive and understanding. She’d be all right. If she didn’t want anything to happen, nothing would.

Barry and Sophie both had told her to get a life. To live was to take risks.

Chapter 21
 

The prospect of visiting Michael’s home filled Nina with warring emotions—excitement, a quiet joy that there was somebody for her. But also dizzying apprehension.

While she waited, she moved from the den to the lanai, wandered aimlessly in the garden, looking at the shrubs and flowers without really seeing them, her hands moist, her breathing heavy. She repeated to herself that she wasn’t a mindless victim; she had a choice. If she didn’t want to sleep with him, she had the right to refuse.

When she opened the door for Michael she was a trembling mass of nerves. He took her in his arms, burrowing his face in her neck.

“Hmm, you smell delicious.” He kissed her, a light touch of his lips on hers. “Are you ready?”

She grabbed her purse and cardigan. “I’m ready.”

As he backed the car out of her driveway, he waved to Samantha by her mailbox. Nina smiled and waved, too.

Turning towards Michael, she put a hand on his arm. “The other day we talked about being honest with each other. Remember?”

“Sure I do. What makes you bring it up?”

“Because it’s so easy not to mention certain things. You know, the sins of omission.”

“As for instance?”

“Well, yesterday I talked to Sophie about you and me.”

“You did? Good. Sophie is a levelheaded, no-nonsense lady. If you need to talk to somebody, she’s a good choice. I’m glad you’re friends.”

Nina was surprised he was positive about this. She had expected some evasiveness, like keep this to themselves for now. If it turned sour, he could walk away and nobody the wiser. “Don’t you mind?”

“No. Why should I? We all need somebody to talk to.” Smiling, he glanced at her. “You should know, you’re the psychologist.”

“I’m relieved, Michael. I thought you’d want to keep quiet about us.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Absolutely not. We may not be ready to make an announcement to the world, but I’m not ashamed about us. We have nothing to hide.”

“Do you have somebody you talk to about such things?” she asked.

“I talk to Oren Jones. I’ve mentioned him.”

“The Reverend?” When she’d told Michael about her childhood he had promised to contact Oren, arrange for Nina to meet him. He must have forgotten, she thought, but didn’t want to bring it up right now.

“Yes. He’s a great guy.”

“Did you tell him about us?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“What did he say?”

Michael grinned. “Oh, no, you go first; what did Sophie say?”

Heat started in her chest and crept up her neck when she thought of the more intimate details of her conversation with Sophie. Nina would tell him, but not right now. “She said a lot of things. Basically she wished us luck.”

“That’s what Oren said. He talked about the right to happiness. He said if the Supreme Being had given us the gift of meeting and coming to love each other, who are we to question the gift.”

She glanced at well-tended lawns, stately residences and the sparkle of a waterway.

“Is your house by a canal?” she asked. The city was a network of canals; the waterfront lots were choice properties, a boater’s dream.

“Yes, but it doesn’t have access to the Gulf of Mexico.”

“I see. Is that why you moor your yacht in Everglade City?”

“Yes.” He took her hand. “Will you be bothered by the smell of cigarettes in my house?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll manage.” She detested the smell of stale cigarette smoke, but this was his home, so she kept quiet.

Michael turned left into a driveway in front of a house that stretched over three lots on a corner. The house was elegantly done in off-white stucco with blinding white doors and window frames.

The sun was a disc of molten gold, high in the sky, casting almost no shadows.

As she stepped from the car, she gasped from surprise and delight; there on the front lawn a tall jacaranda raised its trunk to the sky, the branches tumbling in a vast cloud of blue bell shaped blossoms.
The color is the exact same as Michael’s eyes.

“Your tree is fabulous.”

He took her hand, steering her across the lawn.

“Wow!” The exclamation escaped her lips at the sight of flowers everywhere.

“Before we go inside, I’d like to show you the garden. Is that all right?”

“Oh yes, I’d love to see it.” Here in Florida, gardens as a rule were lush and beautiful, with well-tended lawns and trimmed shrubs. Her garden was beautiful in its simplicity, the accent on the luxuriant lawn. But Michael’s outdid anything she’d seen. It was … magnificent. A splendor that stirred, stimulated, and titillated all her senses.

Nina’s eyes and nose met a profusion of colors, shapes and perfumes, a study in balance and harmony.

A lush, restful oasis, the landscaping was planned so as to bring harmony in the way the plants matched and blended together, sported shades and forms at interplay.

Roses grew in bushed form and as trimmed trees. Some climbed on trellises. One bed held only peace roses, their large blossoms butter yellow on which Nature had wiped Her paint brushes of red and hot pink.

“This is truly lovely,” she said. “How do you find the time to take care of all this?”

Smiling, he glanced at her. “It’s a labor of love. It relieves me after a tough day at the clinic. For heavier work, I have a landscaping service.”