Love under contract (32 page)

Gregor blamed her for what had happened when she was just a child, as if she had done it purposely, only to punish him. Naturally he knew that was nonsense; she didn’t know him then. She was fourteen!

Zara bit her lip; how should she react? Did he have to tell his parents that? What would they think of her? She liked his parents, above all because they radiated what she never had, family, security, love, peace . . .

She lowered her head and stood there for a moment, and then went outside. Esther looked at her son. “That wasn’t appropriate just now . . .” “Oh God, and I really didn’t mean it like that!” Gregor defended himself.

Esther went after Zara, who was standing on the balcony and looked out into the darkness. “I’m sorry, Zara.” She reached for her hand. “It’s true, he’s only telling the truth,” Zara said, with a hollow voice. “But he really doesn’t have to tell the story everywhere,” Esther said, with understanding. She had probably been young and dumb, a child from a wealthy home, but without supervision, who knows what her parents were doing. “It wasn’t the way it sounds, anyway,” Zara said then, and it felt as if it were yesterday. “It happened a long time ago,” Zara said, but she asked herself why she thought about it so often lately – and she thought about Coralie, her half-sister.

Esther returned to the living room and said to her son emphatically, “Go now and apologize to your wife, and I never again want to hear you speak about her in that tone.” Her eyes were ice-cold and Gregor knew that when his mother spoke like that, she was not in the mood for jokes. “Okay, if I can do that as a favor to you . . .” He sighed, and got up. Not only could he never say no to his mother’s wishes, he was truly sorry for his hurtful words.

He found Zara still on the terrace. She sat on a chair and was looking up at the dark sky. “One can see all the stars here,” she said, as she heard Gregor approach. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said softly. “It’s true, though. You don’t have to be sorry . . . it was my own stupidity.” What did everyone expect of her? She was fourteen years old . . . Gregor sighed, he could hardly blame her, it was so long ago – and he had known about it for some time. In her contract, there was something about a child, but she couldn’t bring about miracles just as he couldn’t. “He was a colleague of my father’s and I seduced him,” she said softly. “Damn it, Zara.” “I thought, my father has these young girls, maybe someone would love me too. I was so dumb and then I was pregnant . . .” “Stop! Don’t go on, you were just a child, please, Zara. Let’s talk about something else, okay?!” “How often do I have to say that it’s all the same to me whether we have a child nor not.” “It’s not all the same to you, Gregor . . .” “I love you, with all your faults . . .”  She nodded and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

“You seem to have impressed my mother, and my father too.” He kissed her on the mouth. “If I could, I would undo many of the things that I’ve done!” He would have loved to be able to magically fulfill all her wishes, even those that couldn’t be bought. Zara leaned on his shoulder. “You’re not Moses,” she whispered and stroked his cheek. “Yes, but who knows; they say that one should never lose hope.” And he kissed her again.

Epilogue

Years later he still often thought about that evening, about that vacation on the Red Sea, about the radiant blue sky. They didn’t do anything other than love each other – everywhere -- in the villa, at the pool, on the sand, on the sailboat; they could simply not keep their hands off each other. And after that, they told everyone they were married.

He had to smile and he asked her if perhaps there really were a God, since sitting before him was Zara, with their son, who, if the physician had figured correctly, was conceived during that vacation, and could be described as a miracle if one knew of her background.

“What’s the matter?” Zara asked and looked up from the floor. He smiled as if he were dreaming. She kissed Alexander, her son, on his blond head. She never thought that she could love such a small being as much as his father. Yes, she loved him so much that she could hardly stand it. He had given her the gift of this child and she would never leave him, as long as he loved her too.

She looked at Gregor, smiling. It had now been five years and in all those years he had never asked if she loved him. He probably feared she would deny it, since the word love did not appear in her contract. That contract, what nonsense! She stood up and went over to him. Gregor took her hand and kissed her fingertips.

He always wondered how she could become more and more beautiful over the years, and still felt a pang in his heart that she never told him that she loved him.

She was so perfect, just as he had always wished his wife to be. She was also as crazy as she was beautiful  – out the whole night, and he couldn’t get her to go home because she wanted to party through the night – but she was also the most elegant hostess, the perfect career woman, and she loved their son more than anything. When she looked at the little boy, her eyes shone and she beamed.

Zara sat down on his lap and put her arms around Gregor. She stroked his cheek and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Are you happy?” she asked him suddenly. Did he actually have anything to complain about? He smiled and said nothing. Something had been troubling him the last few days; she knew him too well.  Something that he didn’t want to talk about lay heavily on his heart.

“Are you upset because Alex isn’t being brought up Jewish?” she asked him, while standing in the door of her dressing room. Gregor laughed. “Zara, you should know me well enough by now that I don’t place any stock in that.” She smiled, relieved, and called out to her son, “Go be with Papa; Eve will be here shortly.” She spoke only French with her son. Eve was an English nanny, so that her son could also learn English.

The little one stood up and ran to Gregor with his arms wide open. He picked him up and put him on his lap. “The nanny will be here any minute; I have to change my clothes for this evening,” Zara added.

Gregor wrinkled his forehead. “I hope the child will be able to speak at least one language correctly,” he said. The nanny spoke English with him; the housekeeper, Spanish; Zara spoke French; and he, because Zara wanted it so, German. Sometimes he didn’t understand his own son at all, when he told him a story in all of the languages at once.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Zara laughed and went into her dressing room. She had grown up multi-lingual too – and Gregor as well.

Gregor noticed the cover of the American
Vogue
lying on the coffee table in front of him; there he was, with his wife and son. They looked so perfect.

Some time ago they had discovered Zara and the child as a favorite subject; he didn’t have any problem with that as long as it didn’t go too far.

He brushed a strand of blond hair out of his son’s face. The child looked so much like him that he had never doubted his paternity, even when Zara stayed out all night long and flirted with other men; but it never went further, he was sure, since whenever he awakened, she was there. She always returned to him.

He thought about the moment when Zara had slipped a large envelope, marked “Urgent” into his daily business mail, and he opened it in a meeting. Within was a page of her contract with the pertinent paragraphs referring to a child, and an ultrasound image, on which was written: “Your son – contract fulfilled.” She had waited five months to tell him because she was afraid that she might miscarry or that he might not believe her. He wondered during that period why she seemed to be gaining a little weight, but said nothing, since he knew women were sensitive about their size. When he saw the ultrasound image he almost fell out of his chair and had to leave the room so that he could privately weep -- for joy.

“Papa, is that me?” Alexander asked and pointed to the magazine. Gregor grinned, amused. He hoped that the son wouldn’t become as vain as the father.

“Yes, and Mama . . .” “We look pretty good!” the little one said. Well, definitely as vain. He was his son, no doubt.

Zara stood in front of the mirror in her new dress and put on her long diamond earrings, as Gregor came to the door, and leaned against its frame. “That dress is very sexy,” he said, with a grin. Zara looked at him, smiling, and put her arms around him. She mussed his thick blond hair. “We still have a little time,” she breathed and pressed herself against him. That, too, hadn’t changed in the last few years. Sex with her was incredible.

Her hands crept under his shirt. She sighed and kissed him. “Doctor Levy, actually I’ve never told you how happy I am,” she whispered into his ear. He laughed, no she hadn’t very often; very rarely, to be sure: in Israel several times; sometimes at night, yes . . .

“I am too, my beautiful one.” He pushed her dress up and stroked her legs.

“I also have never told you that I love you,” she said then, softly, and looked into his eyes. He smiled quietly, and it was as if his breathing would cease and his heart would stop. “It took you five years,” he finally said. She kissed him and murmured, “Love wasn’t a part of our contract, Doctor Levy.”

Many thanks to my translator Dagmar Grimm and my German editor Stephanie Bergold. Special thanks to my husband, without whom this book would never have been published.

Dear Readers,

If you have enjoyed reading my book, I would appreciate your Feedback on my Web Page                        karinfromwald.com  and also on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk.

On my website you also can read about my new book.