Love's Forbidden Flower (23 page)

The quiet of the house holds vigil to the panic felt one year ago when Christopher announced Grace wanted me to be the daughter she never had. Where was the man who was so upset over leaving that he wanted to propose and whisk me away? He spent months confessing his adoration and getting ‘all sentimental’ only to say, “Cheerio, luv. Be seeing you. Or not.”

Looking down at the ring Christopher gave me, I realize the time may have arisen to lock it away where it will go unremembered until I'm old and gray. At least if it is left at my parent’s house it can be retrieved over Christmas break, if I feel so inclined. As I ponder doing just that my video chat rings. The timing is bewildering as it is likely Christopher magically resurfacing. Then again, maybe it's Alex calling for Kate. Wouldn’t that be a lark? If that's the case I'm running off to Africa to live among the lions and changing my identity.

“Merry Thanksgiving! Mum just came in and showed me the calendar, insisting I call immediately and thank you again on her behalf for your hospitality last year. I think she misses you.”

Dear God, is Grace psychic? “Oh, so this little resurfacing is because she twisted your arm and not because you actually want to talk to me.” Midway through the sentence my skin prickles at how unintentionally harsh the words sound, but it's too late. Christopher turns his eyes downward.

“No, luv. I’m sorry if it sounded that way.”

Putting my elbow on the desk and with my chin in hand, my soul aches at Christopher’s image. “Christopher, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just really still miss you. Why have you disappeared?”

“Can I just say that being here is not all it’s cracked up to be and leave it at that? Really luv, it’s fantastic to see you. I wouldn't have called if I didn’t want to.”

“I just wish you wanted to a little more.”

“Lilyanna, I always want to talk to you. Tell me all the wonderful things I’ve missed.”

The miles have taken their toll. At least Grace is still pulling for us. With her, hope springs eternal when it comes to love. Grace appears to be the only one who won’t accept what Christopher and I can't state. Whether or not we want it, our relationship is experiencing death throws.

Returning home I expect to find a letter from Alex, but a note is still long overdue.

We have been apart physically, mentally, and geographically for so long that my heart questions if my feelings for you are still true. I have hidden too long. I have pretended too long. I need proof that our love is not imaginary and that our passion is based on devotion and not simply yearning. Reality must be on the horizon so that I can move forward with my life even if it means leaving you behind forever. Soon we shall see each other again. Might you have a moment to share with me so I can discern my true feelings?

If Donovan can't respect this I have to halt everything and never think of him again even if every aspect of our relationship is forever abandoned. My masquerade mask just leapt into the trash.

I find great excitement in knowing I shall be with you again soon. My only hope is to have a few moments were we can enjoy each other’s company fully, and I can alleviate your fears. My true wish though, is that we could somehow escape the clutches of others and run off alone. If I could see you privately, even if only long enough to share a brief moment, my heart shall be fulfilled.

Is this conclusively it? After two years of denial is Donovan truly ready to fess up to our absoluteness?

The next day I arrive home to find a grumpy Dad, a reserved Mom, and a bitchy Donovan. The initial welcome had been pleasant. When Donovan greeted me at the door he received the hug of a lifetime accompanied by a lingering kiss on his cheek—the moment was heart captivating. Mom ran from the kitchen to lock her arms around me, boasting how much she misses me. Dad even bothered to leave the den—book and pipe still in hand—and give me a kiss on the cheek. But now it is five minutes later and Dad's resumed reading, Mom's back cooking, Donovan's off brooding, and wispy clouds of tension float through the air.

“All right, what'd you do? You got home like an hour ago and disaster has already struck. Are you going to tell me what's going on, or is that another answer for someday?” I ask while standing in Donovan’s bedroom doorway with exasperation blanketing my face. It sure didn't take long for the fairy tale to fracture.

“Bob, tell us what the lady has won!”

“Fine. Are you at least glad to see me?”

“Hey, you're the one who stormed in here without saying hello. I was just lying here waiting for you to grace me. Aren’t you like royalty now that you bonked an English—
man
? Ugh!”

“Boy, you really are jealous of him. I see you for the first time in a year, and within seconds you're harping on my ex-boyfriend who is thousands of miles away, and whom I'll probably never see again.”

Donovan’s tone overturns as he sits and motions for me to shut the door, suddenly sounding rather sheepish. “Is he really out of your life for good?”

“Didn’t your spy tell you? I know she overheard enough to give you all of the information you need.”

“I think someone intercepted her before I received my final report.” Donovan’s palm flies up before my head finishes snapping at him. He sounds as ashamed as he should. “Apologizing to her is top of my hit list this week. I've no idea how I can make it up to her, but I have to figure something out.”

It’s still unfathomable he used someone like that. At least he seems truly regretful. I plop myself on the foot of his bed with my knees guardedly hugged close to my body. The subject makes me doubtful it’s safe to be in the same state as him. “Donovan, why did you do it? If you wanted information, why didn't you ask? You know I'd tell you anything.”

“Hey, Lil. Tell you what. I'll do my best to be nice to everyone this week if you promise you'll stop asking questions I can't answer right now.”

“So in other words, I should leave you the hell alone. Okay. See you next holiday—
if
you show up.”

His touch upon my sleeve grants me the excuse to halt. I've no desire to leave, nor do I wish to fight. I'm just so damn mad at him for how he's acted the last two years that how to handle this is beyond me. My hand itches to slap him.

“I'm going to apologize to Cheryl first thing Friday morning,
if
she'll see me. How about I take you to lunch after for that alone time? Same place as before? One o’clock?”

Though his eyes are filled with the same expression of love he's almost acted on so many times, the high level of my annoyance won’t be quelled. “Sure. Bring Cheryl two bouquets of flowers because I'm sure she’ll throw the first one at you. Hopefully it will have thorns. And show a lot of remorse. I mean
a lot!
Also, don’t be surprised if the sight of you freaks her out. I kind of let it slip that you're crazy and might be dangerous.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured.”

Dropping his head he ruefully shakes it as my anger continues to flow. “Hey, it was the least I could do after how much havoc she caused. Christopher had to be constantly sheltered from your drama.”

“She got in deeper than I ever expected. I never thought it would get so bad or that she’d be so transparent.” He looks up with a sigh. “Do you ever talk to him? Do you regret not going to England?”

“I talk to him occasionally, but he’s gone. We both did the right thing, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that I miss him all the time.”

Donovan reaches out and takes my hand. “Maybe right now you shouldn't be making any relationship decisions.”

“You know, when you left I missed you too. I still do. If I waited until a time when I didn't miss someone I love before getting into a relationship, I'd likely die an old maid.”

Donovan gets absolutely no sympathy from me as he sits across the table sporting a huge black eye. He had this coming—although the timing is really a downer since this is supposed to be our first date. We've spent the last few days in the blissful awkwardness of being around each other but not being able to be together. Now we’re finally somewhat alone in a crowded restaurant, and he looks like a character out of a bad 50’s monster film.

Donovan has a lot of things that he deserves. Although he's long past his due for many good ones, this one is just as necessary.

“Do you have to look like you're enjoying this?” he winces.

“No, but why lie?” Admittedly his bloating Technicolor eye does bring me some satisfaction, though the rest of him has me concerned. “How are your ribs?”

“Painful!” He squirms while trying to adjust so sitting doesn't send stabbing pains jolting through him. “This isn't turning out to be the romantic lunch I'd hoped for. I'm really trying to make things right in my life starting this week.”

Responding to my motion, he gives me his hands without reservation. The electricity of his touch still has the power to jumpstart my heart. “Does this mean I'm seeing the return of Donovan and the disappearance of Alex?”

“How freaked out are you by that?”

“Quite a bit at first, but I remembered what you said about needing to be someone else and, frankly, it came at a time when maybe I needed that too. I do have to admit that it has been really enjoyable. Just how truthful is he?”

“Very.”

“I think Alex is amazing, but I'd rather have Donovan.”

“So would I but in less pain. Can we never talk about that weirdness again? Actually, let's not talk about anyone else existing at all. This is a lot for me already. I'm feeling pretty courageous, and I don’t want to blow it.”

“Anything you want.” He’s not the only one with courage. My heart dares to look at him the way it did two years ago, back when we were about to face our emotions and cast aside society's intrusive opinions. Just like then, I am restlessly in need of some affection. “Maybe we should leave. We've been here twenty minutes, and we've yet to see our waitress. I can think of better ways to spend the little time we have.” Many,
many
ways!

His face shies, as his voice turns timid. “Lily. I'm trying to do this right. You deserve someone who will take you someplace decent and do nice things for you. Just enjoy it.”

“Have I told you how much I love the real you?”

“On second thought maybe we should get out of here.”

“Hey, Lily! I haven't seen you in ages!” Finally our waitress appears. At her sight Donovan quickly drops my hands with a pain filled wince.

“Hi Jennifer.” I should've seen this one coming. Josette is related to the owners here and, therefore, so is Jennifer. Josette must have finally canned her and shipped her off to work for her other kinsfolks.

Jennifer turns to Donovan, obviously expecting to see Christopher. “Hey—Oh, hi Donovan.” In true Jennifer style she returns her sites to me, “What happened to that guy from Ireland?”

Donovan's gone white. It could be the mental shock that just hit his system, or his injuries are far worse than they appear. Either way he’s got me freaked. He’s been brave long enough. It’s past time we postpone the date and head for the hospital.