Hello My Love, page 20
part #1 of Between Two Worlds Series
“You’re right. Still, should I feel responsible, that Greg broke off his engagement with her?”
“No way. You didn’t put a gun to his head. He fell in love with you. What could you have done? Sacrifice his feelings and yours for this woman?”
“No, of course not. That’s not what I’m getting at. Lori is a bright, extremely attractive woman. Why would Greg give her up for me?”
“I don’t know. How about what I already said—he fell in love with you?”
“He could fall out of love with me, as easily as he did with Lori.”
“I’d like to say you have all these lovable qualities I'm sure Lori doesn’t have. But I bet you’ll see them as empty reassurances. So, I’ll say what I think you want to hear: I haven’t met Greg so I’ve no idea, and that’s the truth.”
Leah sounded impatient.
“I’m sorry, Leah. I’m being impossible, because I feel useless and unattractive.”
“You need time to recover. You could have died. You do have your little one to take care of.” Leah’s tone was softer.
Elise bit her lips and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “I can’t even do that very well. I’m sleeping a lot, so I’m not there for him, as much as I want to be. I can’t get too far with him on my crutches, even with a baby carrier I sling on me.”
After a momentary pause, she added, her voice breaking, “Oh, I also meant to tell you. They reassigned my murder case to another lawyer. In fact, they’ve reassigned all my cases.”
“Oh Elise! I’m so sorry.”
*****
Elise hummed a soft lullaby, as she sat on a chair behind an eight-foot wide Chinese coromandel screen in the study, where Bob had cleared an area for the baby to sleep in at night. When the lullaby ended, she touched little Gregory’s hand and made sure he was asleep. She pulled herself up on her crutches.
Greg sat on the couch, reading a newspaper. They had fallen into a small routine before the accident, of putting Gregory to sleep and reading or working a couple of hours. Since the accident, she had been too exhausted to stay beyond a half hour.
Elise hobbled towards the couch. Greg looked up and smiled at her. She sat next to him and, after putting her crutches down, she placed her hand on the newspaper he was reading and gently pulled it away.
She said, “I got a surprise visit from Lori Williams this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
He seemed curious but, Elise thought, more than a little guarded.
“She gave me her version of ‘I had nothing to do with the hit and run.’”
“Somehow I expected her to do this. So, what did she say?”
Elise went on to relate what transpired between her and Lori.
Greg said, “I tend to believe she’s telling the truth.”
Anger flashed in Elise's eyes for a fraction of an instant.
“What’re you saying? That I should agree to what she asked, to tell the press I think she’s innocent?”
“No. Of course not. But if she had nothing to do with your accident, it would be a shame if she loses David Belcher.”
“What if she’s culpable and gets away with it? She might try again.”
“But what if she isn’t?”
Elise gritted her teeth and grabbed her crutches. She regarded Greg with suspicious eyes and said, “We don't know, do we? It’s neither my responsibility nor yours to find out the truth. If she’s telling the truth after lying to the police, she has no one to blame but herself, if they doubt her word now.”
She tightened her hold on her crutches.
“Why are you so eager to help her, anyway? She’s a stunner, that’s for sure, and probably great in bed. She seems made for it.”
Greg scowled and looked away. He was annoyed.
“I’m going to bed,” she said irritably.
She raised herself from the couch and limped away.
Minutes later, Elise lay in bed, her eyes closed and stinging with hot tears. Her body was tense and tight from her effort to still the convulsions that rose from deep within her. Yes, she was jealous, she admitted to herself. How could she not be? Greg seemed, to her, to have been defending Lori since that first time he had gone to her apartment. He went a second time and he did not tell her about that visit until days later. She began to wonder if anything more had happened that he was keeping from her.
Recovering from the brain trauma and the operation to make her leg whole again was taking too much time, sapping her energy, and keeping her from many things she used to enjoy doing. It seemed as though all she had been doing was sleep, so Greg and she had not spent any appreciable time alone together. Greg had also been coming home at least an hour later than before. He was catching up on his work, he told her. And, anyway, he reasoned, her mother was there for a few days to care for her and keep her company.
She winced at the image she must present to Greg—wan, worn-down, withdrawn, bags under her eyes, hair and clothes somewhat disheveled, and ugly stitches on a leg she had to prop up at night. And how could anyone be elegant and attractive limping around in crutches?
A vision of Lori as she saw her that afternoon, assaulted her—Lori’s irresistible red lips and round breasts, her enticing eyes. Was she not temptation too great to pass up? She could easily imagine Lori seducing Greg again. He did not do much resisting in the past, with her or with any of the other women Elise loathed to be compared with. Why would he now?
She began to wonder if moving in with Greg was a mistake. Have I been rash in agreeing to marry, so soon after we’ve been apart two years?
She let herself indulge in self-pity and tried to imagine the worse. Maybe, the accident happened for a reason and just at the right time. It’s a test. Will our relationship endure, while we cope with its aftermath? She knew, at least, that she would not spend even a single day with someone who did not love her enough to be faithful.
*****
An hour later, Greg climbed into bed, careful not to disturb Elise. She lay on her side, her back to him. She never did that, not even lately. His gaze swept across her whole form, motionless and distant. Since returning from the hospital, she fell asleep before he joined her in bed. But she always slept, facing him, close enough that he could gather her in his arms.
He wanted to come closer, to put his arms around her. But after the small argument they had in the study, he hesitated. He stared at the nape of her neck and resisted an urge to kiss it, a part of her he knew so well by now.
He whispered, more to himself than to her, “Elise, I love you. Don’t you know that, now, it’s you I live for?”
Elise uttered a sound. It was low but he heard it and he knew it was a sob she tried to choke down.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice soft and tender.
He slid closer and wrapped an arm around her.
“Whatever it was you imagined, I want you to know—I can’t even think of making love to anyone else but you. Not since that first night we had together.”
*****
Elise held her breath, waiting, anticipating, oblivious now to everything but the sound of his voice. She inched closer to him.
“Do you remember the night we made love again, after you asked me up to your apartment? We were both shivering from the cold after a few turns around the block from that Indian restaurant.”
She did remember. They could not get enough of each other that night. The yearning built from a couple of years of separation—reminiscing, wondering, hoping, and imagining what it would be like to be together again—peaked into a frenzy of lovemaking more intense than their first.
She had been quite active, going on top of him, caressing every part of him, her mouth nibbling at his skin as he had done with her that first time. Reunited that night in her apartment, she enacted memories of that first encounter.
For her, their second night together had been another night of surprises. She thought that she had made love with abandon before but she realized, that second time, what it was to be so free in love that she allowed her mind to submit to whatever her body and her heart willed her to do.
Greg continued, “I was not trembling from the cold. I had not made love to anyone else since our first night together. I couldn’t. In your apartment, you made love to me like no other woman had before.”
She lay still for a couple of long minutes but she was trembling inside—an aching, delicious tingle she had not felt since before her accident. She turned around to face him.
“But how could you love me, when I'm so plain and haggard, and I’m tired all the time?”
“How could I not? You intrigue me, bewitch me with everything about you. All these contradictions. Here you are—confident, intelligent, forceful and articulate when you argue your viewpoint. Then, there you are—childlike, jealous, and strangely unsure of how much power you have over me and of how desirable you are. How beautiful you are. I can’t even begin to describe how you give yourself to me and what that does to me.”
She clasped his face and kissed him, a long, deep kiss that left them both breathless.
He was still panting a little when he said, “Can I make love to you? It's been so long, too many weeks. You seem so fragile that I’ve been afraid I would hurt you if I did. But, oh how I've wanted to make love to you. Why do you suppose I've been coming to bed later, when you're already asleep?”
She whispered into his ear, “Oh Greg, I do. I do want you to make love to me. I want to feel your bare skin against mine, you inside of me.”
*****
Elise's sultry plea sent a thrill through Greg. His whole body throbbed in anticipation. He rolled over from his side and on top of her. He nudged her legs apart with his and she opened them wide for him. He stripped himself to his skin.
She pulled off her nightgown and arched her body against his bare torso, pressing her breasts against his chest. She moaned. “Love me.”
“Yes, oh yes, Elise, my love.”
He slithered against her, probing her mouth with his, entwining their bodies and their limbs. They writhed against each other, relishing the passionate heat of flesh against flesh. He could hardly contain the thrill of her in his arms, after so many weeks of holding himself back. His hands and his mouth explored and drank in every inch of her skin, lingering on her lips, around her breasts, and the mound between her legs, delighting in how her whole body heaved with his caresses. He inhaled deeply the now-familiar scents she exuded from her skin.
He wanted to stay in those sensuous moments of touching, caressing, nibbling, and tasting. They excited, as much as they pleasured both of them. But the ache in his loins had become excruciating. He slithered up once more, probed, and penetrated her as far as he could go.
She gasped. He stopped, and from deep within him, gushed a long exultant sigh.
She was moaning, almost in a swoon. “Oh Greg, my love, my love,” she whispered, grasping him and pulling him closer.
Merged into one, they gazed at each other, their pent-up desire—neglected and restrained for too long—gleamed in their eyes and quivered in hungry lips drawn in and savored to their full lusciousness.
They undulated together, in slow but perfect harmony as they had done before, relishing the feel, even the idea, of their union. They stayed there as long as they could.
Soon, however, that delirious wave took them into that familiar feverish, violent crescendo. It culminated as always, into eruptions of passion, rapture, and declarations of love. He waited for her to get there first before he surrendered himself to that high from which descent was inevitable.
They held each other during those sensuous mellow moments that always followed their lovemaking. They lay awake, touching, caressing, rubbing their naked bodies together, reluctant to let sleep rob them of the delicious sensations of being together.
XVIII. A Quick Ceremony
Early the next morning, a whimper from the study woke Greg up. He rose, grabbed his robe, and threw it around himself. He tiptoed into the study to check on little Gregory. He touched his son’s tiny hand and tiny feet under the warm flannel.
Gregory did not stir, so Greg planted a light kiss on his cheek and left the room, as quietly as when he came in. Back in their bedroom, he found Elise awake.
“How’s he?” she asked.
“Asleep. He was dreaming, I think.”
As he climbed back into bed, he said, “We'll have to renovate. Gregory needs his own room. Or would you rather we find us a new house?”
“Let’s go back to sleep.”
It was four o’clock in the morning and still dark.
“There's plenty of space to expand into,” she said after a while.
“How many rooms should we add?”
“How many children do you want?” She chuckled and snuggled closer.
He gathered her in his arms. “Why don’t we get married first before we make more?”
“Why don’t we sleep first?” Her words were garbled against his neck.
“Let’s go to the county clerk’s office this week. We’d have to go through a civil marriage here, anyway. French laws require forty days residence in that country.”
She raised her head from the crook of his neck and stared, at him.
“You mean our wedding ceremony would have no legal weight? No meaning to anyone but us and, maybe, to our parents?”
“That’s what Benoit told me. A civil marriage is easy to do here, anyway. We should still have that wedding ceremony later—you in a white veil and gown, bridal sponsors, flowers, reception—the works. Here or anywhere you want, any time you choose.”
“Legal is all I need. Those vows are important to me. I may be old-fashioned but, in my mind, they mean commitment; and as a lawyer, I want that certificate as a proof we made those vows. I don’t need to be married in a white bridal gown. Besides, isn’t a white gown for virgins? I ought to be married in scarlet.”
“You’ll look good in scarlet.”
He chuckled, nudging her neck and her face.
“But what about all those arrangements you’ve already made in that little village in France?”
“I want to take you there, for sure, so we’ll go some time. Soon, I hope, when you don't need your crutches anymore. I’m sure Benoit and Cecile will understand. The place is great for walking and taking stock. I went on a lot of walks when I was there. I want to take you on my favorite trails. It’ll be a good excuse to have another honeymoon.”
“Our formal honeymoon.”
“You can think of it that way. But it won’t be our last. I’d like to take you on many more.”
He smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and clasped her closer. They went back to sleep after some time.
They awoke later than usual in the morning. He planted a light kiss on her lips and jumped out of bed.
“I’ll have to skip breakfast. I’m late for a meeting.”
*****
As she and Greg agreed to do, Elise called her parents and Mrs. Thorpe to inform them of their plans to get married before the week was over. They decided not to ask anyone from their immediate family to attend the ceremony at the county clerk’s office where all they needed was one witness. That way, no one’s feelings would be hurt from being excluded. Elise would ask Leah, who was to have been her bridesmaid.
Bob and Alicia would be there—Bob to drive and Alicia to take care of Gregory whose presence Greg and Elise both believed essential. They wanted to be able to tell him, years later, that he saw his parents pronounce their marriage vows.
Elise talked to her mother first.
Her mother could not hide her disappointment.
“I think it's for the best. You're practically married anyway. Although ….”
“Although what?”
“My daughter, marrying a rich man and she's wearing an old dress. I always envisioned you as a radiant bride in a flowing white gown.”
“I don’t have the energy or time to get a flowing white gown.”
“Why don't I take you out shopping tomorrow? I know a couple of bridal shops with good ready-made gowns. I’m sure we’ll find some dress suitable for you, with your crutches.”
“Will that make you happier?”
“At least, I wouldn't feel so bad.”
“Okay. Pick me up here at 10 am.
“Good. And why don't I make a nice family dinner after the ceremony?”
“We’re driving to Carmel for a long weekend, right after the wedding. Besides, Greg's secretary has already made reservations for a wedding celebration, for family and close friends, same ones who were going to join us in France. It's for Tuesday evening next week.”
“What about Gregory? Are you taking him to Carmel?”
“He's staying with Alicia. Her sons will be home. They like playing with Gregory.”
Her mother sighed. “I guess that's all right. But … getting married in a public office—how unromantic!”
“Oh, Mom!”
“Don’t mind me. I’m being your mother, as usual. I’ll call your brothers so you don’t have to.”
She was about to hang up but she was not quite contented yet. “Why don’t you come for dinner when you return from Carmel? We’ll have a family thing with your brothers. I have to do this for you.”
“Oh, Mom.” Elise protested, thought about it, and decided to give in.
“All right. But I’ll have to ask Greg, and you promise not to make a fuss, if he prefers not to go. He has to go to work the next day.”
With some uneasiness, Elise called Mrs. Thorpe. They had not talked since the night they first met, an evening that had been less than pleasant. Mrs. Thorpe sent her flowers at the hospital, with a nice little note. Other than that, she had said nothing about the accident nor inquired further about how Elise was doing.
“Hello, Mrs. Thorpe, it's Elise.”
“Oh, it's you!” Mrs. Thorpe sounded a little surprised. “You sound good. You must be feeling better.”
“Much. I'm still going around on crutches and I haven't got my full energy back.”
“It takes time. I'm sorry I didn't come to see you at the hospital. I don't like hospitals. I keep away from them as much as I possibly can. I spent too many days in one when my husband was sick—far too many. He hung on for a while. He wasn’t ready to go. I was certainly not ready for him to go.”
“No way. You didn’t put a gun to his head. He fell in love with you. What could you have done? Sacrifice his feelings and yours for this woman?”
“No, of course not. That’s not what I’m getting at. Lori is a bright, extremely attractive woman. Why would Greg give her up for me?”
“I don’t know. How about what I already said—he fell in love with you?”
“He could fall out of love with me, as easily as he did with Lori.”
“I’d like to say you have all these lovable qualities I'm sure Lori doesn’t have. But I bet you’ll see them as empty reassurances. So, I’ll say what I think you want to hear: I haven’t met Greg so I’ve no idea, and that’s the truth.”
Leah sounded impatient.
“I’m sorry, Leah. I’m being impossible, because I feel useless and unattractive.”
“You need time to recover. You could have died. You do have your little one to take care of.” Leah’s tone was softer.
Elise bit her lips and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “I can’t even do that very well. I’m sleeping a lot, so I’m not there for him, as much as I want to be. I can’t get too far with him on my crutches, even with a baby carrier I sling on me.”
After a momentary pause, she added, her voice breaking, “Oh, I also meant to tell you. They reassigned my murder case to another lawyer. In fact, they’ve reassigned all my cases.”
“Oh Elise! I’m so sorry.”
*****
Elise hummed a soft lullaby, as she sat on a chair behind an eight-foot wide Chinese coromandel screen in the study, where Bob had cleared an area for the baby to sleep in at night. When the lullaby ended, she touched little Gregory’s hand and made sure he was asleep. She pulled herself up on her crutches.
Greg sat on the couch, reading a newspaper. They had fallen into a small routine before the accident, of putting Gregory to sleep and reading or working a couple of hours. Since the accident, she had been too exhausted to stay beyond a half hour.
Elise hobbled towards the couch. Greg looked up and smiled at her. She sat next to him and, after putting her crutches down, she placed her hand on the newspaper he was reading and gently pulled it away.
She said, “I got a surprise visit from Lori Williams this afternoon.”
“Oh?”
He seemed curious but, Elise thought, more than a little guarded.
“She gave me her version of ‘I had nothing to do with the hit and run.’”
“Somehow I expected her to do this. So, what did she say?”
Elise went on to relate what transpired between her and Lori.
Greg said, “I tend to believe she’s telling the truth.”
Anger flashed in Elise's eyes for a fraction of an instant.
“What’re you saying? That I should agree to what she asked, to tell the press I think she’s innocent?”
“No. Of course not. But if she had nothing to do with your accident, it would be a shame if she loses David Belcher.”
“What if she’s culpable and gets away with it? She might try again.”
“But what if she isn’t?”
Elise gritted her teeth and grabbed her crutches. She regarded Greg with suspicious eyes and said, “We don't know, do we? It’s neither my responsibility nor yours to find out the truth. If she’s telling the truth after lying to the police, she has no one to blame but herself, if they doubt her word now.”
She tightened her hold on her crutches.
“Why are you so eager to help her, anyway? She’s a stunner, that’s for sure, and probably great in bed. She seems made for it.”
Greg scowled and looked away. He was annoyed.
“I’m going to bed,” she said irritably.
She raised herself from the couch and limped away.
Minutes later, Elise lay in bed, her eyes closed and stinging with hot tears. Her body was tense and tight from her effort to still the convulsions that rose from deep within her. Yes, she was jealous, she admitted to herself. How could she not be? Greg seemed, to her, to have been defending Lori since that first time he had gone to her apartment. He went a second time and he did not tell her about that visit until days later. She began to wonder if anything more had happened that he was keeping from her.
Recovering from the brain trauma and the operation to make her leg whole again was taking too much time, sapping her energy, and keeping her from many things she used to enjoy doing. It seemed as though all she had been doing was sleep, so Greg and she had not spent any appreciable time alone together. Greg had also been coming home at least an hour later than before. He was catching up on his work, he told her. And, anyway, he reasoned, her mother was there for a few days to care for her and keep her company.
She winced at the image she must present to Greg—wan, worn-down, withdrawn, bags under her eyes, hair and clothes somewhat disheveled, and ugly stitches on a leg she had to prop up at night. And how could anyone be elegant and attractive limping around in crutches?
A vision of Lori as she saw her that afternoon, assaulted her—Lori’s irresistible red lips and round breasts, her enticing eyes. Was she not temptation too great to pass up? She could easily imagine Lori seducing Greg again. He did not do much resisting in the past, with her or with any of the other women Elise loathed to be compared with. Why would he now?
She began to wonder if moving in with Greg was a mistake. Have I been rash in agreeing to marry, so soon after we’ve been apart two years?
She let herself indulge in self-pity and tried to imagine the worse. Maybe, the accident happened for a reason and just at the right time. It’s a test. Will our relationship endure, while we cope with its aftermath? She knew, at least, that she would not spend even a single day with someone who did not love her enough to be faithful.
*****
An hour later, Greg climbed into bed, careful not to disturb Elise. She lay on her side, her back to him. She never did that, not even lately. His gaze swept across her whole form, motionless and distant. Since returning from the hospital, she fell asleep before he joined her in bed. But she always slept, facing him, close enough that he could gather her in his arms.
He wanted to come closer, to put his arms around her. But after the small argument they had in the study, he hesitated. He stared at the nape of her neck and resisted an urge to kiss it, a part of her he knew so well by now.
He whispered, more to himself than to her, “Elise, I love you. Don’t you know that, now, it’s you I live for?”
Elise uttered a sound. It was low but he heard it and he knew it was a sob she tried to choke down.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice soft and tender.
He slid closer and wrapped an arm around her.
“Whatever it was you imagined, I want you to know—I can’t even think of making love to anyone else but you. Not since that first night we had together.”
*****
Elise held her breath, waiting, anticipating, oblivious now to everything but the sound of his voice. She inched closer to him.
“Do you remember the night we made love again, after you asked me up to your apartment? We were both shivering from the cold after a few turns around the block from that Indian restaurant.”
She did remember. They could not get enough of each other that night. The yearning built from a couple of years of separation—reminiscing, wondering, hoping, and imagining what it would be like to be together again—peaked into a frenzy of lovemaking more intense than their first.
She had been quite active, going on top of him, caressing every part of him, her mouth nibbling at his skin as he had done with her that first time. Reunited that night in her apartment, she enacted memories of that first encounter.
For her, their second night together had been another night of surprises. She thought that she had made love with abandon before but she realized, that second time, what it was to be so free in love that she allowed her mind to submit to whatever her body and her heart willed her to do.
Greg continued, “I was not trembling from the cold. I had not made love to anyone else since our first night together. I couldn’t. In your apartment, you made love to me like no other woman had before.”
She lay still for a couple of long minutes but she was trembling inside—an aching, delicious tingle she had not felt since before her accident. She turned around to face him.
“But how could you love me, when I'm so plain and haggard, and I’m tired all the time?”
“How could I not? You intrigue me, bewitch me with everything about you. All these contradictions. Here you are—confident, intelligent, forceful and articulate when you argue your viewpoint. Then, there you are—childlike, jealous, and strangely unsure of how much power you have over me and of how desirable you are. How beautiful you are. I can’t even begin to describe how you give yourself to me and what that does to me.”
She clasped his face and kissed him, a long, deep kiss that left them both breathless.
He was still panting a little when he said, “Can I make love to you? It's been so long, too many weeks. You seem so fragile that I’ve been afraid I would hurt you if I did. But, oh how I've wanted to make love to you. Why do you suppose I've been coming to bed later, when you're already asleep?”
She whispered into his ear, “Oh Greg, I do. I do want you to make love to me. I want to feel your bare skin against mine, you inside of me.”
*****
Elise's sultry plea sent a thrill through Greg. His whole body throbbed in anticipation. He rolled over from his side and on top of her. He nudged her legs apart with his and she opened them wide for him. He stripped himself to his skin.
She pulled off her nightgown and arched her body against his bare torso, pressing her breasts against his chest. She moaned. “Love me.”
“Yes, oh yes, Elise, my love.”
He slithered against her, probing her mouth with his, entwining their bodies and their limbs. They writhed against each other, relishing the passionate heat of flesh against flesh. He could hardly contain the thrill of her in his arms, after so many weeks of holding himself back. His hands and his mouth explored and drank in every inch of her skin, lingering on her lips, around her breasts, and the mound between her legs, delighting in how her whole body heaved with his caresses. He inhaled deeply the now-familiar scents she exuded from her skin.
He wanted to stay in those sensuous moments of touching, caressing, nibbling, and tasting. They excited, as much as they pleasured both of them. But the ache in his loins had become excruciating. He slithered up once more, probed, and penetrated her as far as he could go.
She gasped. He stopped, and from deep within him, gushed a long exultant sigh.
She was moaning, almost in a swoon. “Oh Greg, my love, my love,” she whispered, grasping him and pulling him closer.
Merged into one, they gazed at each other, their pent-up desire—neglected and restrained for too long—gleamed in their eyes and quivered in hungry lips drawn in and savored to their full lusciousness.
They undulated together, in slow but perfect harmony as they had done before, relishing the feel, even the idea, of their union. They stayed there as long as they could.
Soon, however, that delirious wave took them into that familiar feverish, violent crescendo. It culminated as always, into eruptions of passion, rapture, and declarations of love. He waited for her to get there first before he surrendered himself to that high from which descent was inevitable.
They held each other during those sensuous mellow moments that always followed their lovemaking. They lay awake, touching, caressing, rubbing their naked bodies together, reluctant to let sleep rob them of the delicious sensations of being together.
XVIII. A Quick Ceremony
Early the next morning, a whimper from the study woke Greg up. He rose, grabbed his robe, and threw it around himself. He tiptoed into the study to check on little Gregory. He touched his son’s tiny hand and tiny feet under the warm flannel.
Gregory did not stir, so Greg planted a light kiss on his cheek and left the room, as quietly as when he came in. Back in their bedroom, he found Elise awake.
“How’s he?” she asked.
“Asleep. He was dreaming, I think.”
As he climbed back into bed, he said, “We'll have to renovate. Gregory needs his own room. Or would you rather we find us a new house?”
“Let’s go back to sleep.”
It was four o’clock in the morning and still dark.
“There's plenty of space to expand into,” she said after a while.
“How many rooms should we add?”
“How many children do you want?” She chuckled and snuggled closer.
He gathered her in his arms. “Why don’t we get married first before we make more?”
“Why don’t we sleep first?” Her words were garbled against his neck.
“Let’s go to the county clerk’s office this week. We’d have to go through a civil marriage here, anyway. French laws require forty days residence in that country.”
She raised her head from the crook of his neck and stared, at him.
“You mean our wedding ceremony would have no legal weight? No meaning to anyone but us and, maybe, to our parents?”
“That’s what Benoit told me. A civil marriage is easy to do here, anyway. We should still have that wedding ceremony later—you in a white veil and gown, bridal sponsors, flowers, reception—the works. Here or anywhere you want, any time you choose.”
“Legal is all I need. Those vows are important to me. I may be old-fashioned but, in my mind, they mean commitment; and as a lawyer, I want that certificate as a proof we made those vows. I don’t need to be married in a white bridal gown. Besides, isn’t a white gown for virgins? I ought to be married in scarlet.”
“You’ll look good in scarlet.”
He chuckled, nudging her neck and her face.
“But what about all those arrangements you’ve already made in that little village in France?”
“I want to take you there, for sure, so we’ll go some time. Soon, I hope, when you don't need your crutches anymore. I’m sure Benoit and Cecile will understand. The place is great for walking and taking stock. I went on a lot of walks when I was there. I want to take you on my favorite trails. It’ll be a good excuse to have another honeymoon.”
“Our formal honeymoon.”
“You can think of it that way. But it won’t be our last. I’d like to take you on many more.”
He smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and clasped her closer. They went back to sleep after some time.
They awoke later than usual in the morning. He planted a light kiss on her lips and jumped out of bed.
“I’ll have to skip breakfast. I’m late for a meeting.”
*****
As she and Greg agreed to do, Elise called her parents and Mrs. Thorpe to inform them of their plans to get married before the week was over. They decided not to ask anyone from their immediate family to attend the ceremony at the county clerk’s office where all they needed was one witness. That way, no one’s feelings would be hurt from being excluded. Elise would ask Leah, who was to have been her bridesmaid.
Bob and Alicia would be there—Bob to drive and Alicia to take care of Gregory whose presence Greg and Elise both believed essential. They wanted to be able to tell him, years later, that he saw his parents pronounce their marriage vows.
Elise talked to her mother first.
Her mother could not hide her disappointment.
“I think it's for the best. You're practically married anyway. Although ….”
“Although what?”
“My daughter, marrying a rich man and she's wearing an old dress. I always envisioned you as a radiant bride in a flowing white gown.”
“I don’t have the energy or time to get a flowing white gown.”
“Why don't I take you out shopping tomorrow? I know a couple of bridal shops with good ready-made gowns. I’m sure we’ll find some dress suitable for you, with your crutches.”
“Will that make you happier?”
“At least, I wouldn't feel so bad.”
“Okay. Pick me up here at 10 am.
“Good. And why don't I make a nice family dinner after the ceremony?”
“We’re driving to Carmel for a long weekend, right after the wedding. Besides, Greg's secretary has already made reservations for a wedding celebration, for family and close friends, same ones who were going to join us in France. It's for Tuesday evening next week.”
“What about Gregory? Are you taking him to Carmel?”
“He's staying with Alicia. Her sons will be home. They like playing with Gregory.”
Her mother sighed. “I guess that's all right. But … getting married in a public office—how unromantic!”
“Oh, Mom!”
“Don’t mind me. I’m being your mother, as usual. I’ll call your brothers so you don’t have to.”
She was about to hang up but she was not quite contented yet. “Why don’t you come for dinner when you return from Carmel? We’ll have a family thing with your brothers. I have to do this for you.”
“Oh, Mom.” Elise protested, thought about it, and decided to give in.
“All right. But I’ll have to ask Greg, and you promise not to make a fuss, if he prefers not to go. He has to go to work the next day.”
With some uneasiness, Elise called Mrs. Thorpe. They had not talked since the night they first met, an evening that had been less than pleasant. Mrs. Thorpe sent her flowers at the hospital, with a nice little note. Other than that, she had said nothing about the accident nor inquired further about how Elise was doing.
“Hello, Mrs. Thorpe, it's Elise.”
“Oh, it's you!” Mrs. Thorpe sounded a little surprised. “You sound good. You must be feeling better.”
“Much. I'm still going around on crutches and I haven't got my full energy back.”
“It takes time. I'm sorry I didn't come to see you at the hospital. I don't like hospitals. I keep away from them as much as I possibly can. I spent too many days in one when my husband was sick—far too many. He hung on for a while. He wasn’t ready to go. I was certainly not ready for him to go.”
