Authors: Roberta Latow
‘Come to dinner on the
Hesperides
this evening.’
‘Eight o’clock then,’ she told him.
Luke hadn’t asked her about Axel. What had she expected from that phone call? She didn’t really know. But the moment she heard Luke’s voice, she understood that they would never have to talk about her trip with Axel. They would never talk about Axel again. She understood by the tone of his voice that Axel had never mattered.
All those things were going through her mind as she dressed very carefully for this reunion with Luke. She selected a long and full skirt of royal blue silk taffeta, a long-sleeved wrap-round blouse of emerald green satin that clung to every seductive curve, and a wide sash of purple velvet. She wore pearls at her neck and in her ears. Candia knew that Luke would think her beautiful in her jewel-like colours. And she was right.
He had been listening for her car and when he heard it
pull up on the dock in front of the gangway, he went on deck to meet her. In the dark and wrapped as she was in a huge shawl of plum-coloured cashmere, there was little to admire of her carefully chosen outfit. He never said a word, merely took her in his arms and kissed her, not in greeting but in passion. She felt as if she was melting in his arms. Only after they left the deck for the saloon did he say hello and unwrap the love of his life.
Luke was dazzled by the way she looked. He took in every aspect of her gown, her beauty, her sensuality, her character; he imprinted them on his mind to have and to hold for ever, for he was about to take the gamble of his life.
He poured glasses of champagne for them. They toasted each other and drank and then Luke excused himself. When he returned, he was in his dress suit and black silk bow tie. ‘You look so lovely and this is a celebration, after all,’ he told her.
From the moment she had returned to him, Luke was aware that she was different,
they
were different. Small talk was no longer a part of their lives. They cut right to the core of things – their feelings for each other, which needed no words to be expressed.
Luke listened to the rustle of her skirts as she moved closer to him, he was aware of her perfume and felt intoxicated by it. An aura of sexuality and love hovered like a mist around her. He wanted to reach out and touch it but he held back. It had to come from her, as it had done before when she had worn the spider web jacket and silk velvet gown and seduced him. It was the only way forward for them; she had to retrace her steps with him and it had to begin with her feelings for him.
He watched her place her empty champagne flute on a table as she walked towards him, never breaking her gaze. She had eyes only for him. She was his life, his love, their happiness, and he knew that tonight, for the first time since he had found her, she was accepting that that was the way she felt about him too.
She stroked his cheek and kissed him on the lips. There was a new fire in her kiss. Then she enticingly removed her blouse and placed it in his hands. She guided his hands to
his face so he could bury it in the soft silk and inhale her own natural scent.
Candia was trembling with the excitement of erotic passion. She watched Luke, the way he pressed his face to her blouse. He was bathing himself in her, his eyes were full of lust for her. That excited her own passions for him. She wanted to feel him pulsating in her hands, to be filled by his yearning for her, to be riven out of all reason by him and his lust.
She gently took the blouse from him and dropped it on the floor. She took both his hands in hers and kissed his palms, licked them with her tongue, bit one of his fingers. Then she placed them on her breasts and directed the caressing until he could bear it no longer. He knew what she wanted. She had always felt excitement when he sucked her nipples. How many times in the past had he made her come in powerful orgasms in just that way. His hands tight round her waist, he devoured her as he knew she wanted to be devoured. So intense was her orgasm that she called out and tears came into her eyes. He stopped and cleaved her to him and kissed her passionately on the lips. The warmth of her mouth, its softness, the sweet taste mixed with champagne – she was the most delicious of creatures.
Candia seemed to find herself again and knew this was just the beginning for them. Love and sex and passion on a grand scale were waiting for them. She led Luke to the sofa and he stretched out on it. She went down on her knees. While she undressed him, she kissed his mouth, his face, his neck. Her kisses moved down his body. He whimpered with pleasure as she sucked hard on his nipples, bit them with a glorious hunger to excite. His trousers now undone, she caressed his sex, made love to it not with her mouth as she would have liked but with her cunt. His first powerful thrust deep inside her was more thrilling than she could ever have imagined. He filled her so completely with himself. With his hands on her waist, he raised and lowered her
on him in slow and deliberate movements that teased her most intimate flesh and released a stream of erotic sensations that brought unrivalled sexual bliss.
Lost in a world of come and love, flesh and heart blending in the most intimate lovemaking possible, Candia had flashes of having been where she was with Luke before, many times. She trusted Luke, he would take her where she wanted to be, where they wanted to dwell together. She surrendered herself to him in lust and love and he took over their lovemaking. He did, after all, know what gave her the greatest sexual pleasure; she had, after all, been the one to teach him the most thrilling and adventurous sex.
When Luke saw that Candia was for the moment sated, he re-dressed himself, and then went to her and raised her from the settee to rearrange her skirt and slip her arms through the sleeves of her blouse. She had that telltale flush that revealed the intensity of orgasms she had experienced. He loved it so when she showed that special colour on her face, on her chest above her breasts.
The look of lust had not faded from her eyes and he knew why. Just like that first night together, she never washed away that special elixir. She carried it with her as a reminder of how delicious her lover was, and with some pride, because their courage to live their sexuality fully meant there was nothing to wash away, only something to savour.
Candia did not stay all night with Luke. He was due at the hospital in Nice at seven in the morning and they knew there would be no sleep if she stayed. Luke was being more strong than calculating. As divine as it had been to be in love and lust with Candia the night before, that was not enough for him. Instinctively he knew it would never be for Candia either. He wanted her whole, with her memory back. Luke’s gamble had always been to declare himself and leave her, so that she would fight to regain her memory because
she
wanted what they had once had together. Well, he had declared himself and so had she; all she had to do
now was want him enough to follow him. And all Luke had to do was leave her.
It was cruel and the most difficult thing he had ever done in his life.
When Candia called by at the
Hesperides
at seven in the evening, he was already gone. The captain invited her in and handed her a letter. He told her that the doctor had asked that she sit down in the saloon and read it and that the captain was to bring her a coffee and a brandy.
Candia was surprised by how calm she felt about this unexpected disappointment. Before she opened the envelope, she sat back, massaging her forehead, and thought of how much Luke and she loved each other, that wherever he had gone, he would be doing the right thing for them. Then she opened the envelope and read his letter.
My dear,
What happened to us last night was marvellous but you must know that I have had what we experienced many times, and so have you. I know us both well enough to say that neither of us could carry on an affair of the heart such as we have without getting our lives in order and facing the big truth – who am I? Where do I belong?
For my part, I know I belong not in Juan-les-Pins or the Riviera, in love with a dream-like creature, but at home. My town, my work, my hospital, all the things I have ever loved I found there, and I miss them.
For your part, find your way back through those lost four years and when you do you will find out who you are and where you belong. God willing, we will find each other again. I may be gone, my heart, but I will never leave you.
Luke
Candia read the letter once, twice, then stopped counting.
She knew it word perfect before she left the
Hesperides
. She was profoundly shocked. The realisation that Luke had walked away from her hit her hard. She knew that he was right to leave, that he had left for her sake not his. But she also knew that she had lost the best love and the best friend she had ever had, and that she could never make contact with him until she did indeed know who she was and where she really belonged.
She returned to the Temple but only to pack her bags and leave for her house in London. She was not at all depressed or unhappy, it was more that she had a job to do and was determined to do it. She wanted Luke Greenfield.
The more she worked on the clues that the windows into her mind gave her, the more frequent were the fleeting memories. Then several weeks after her return to London, she had a dream. She saw herself in a long summer dress in the rose garden at Rose Cottage. She awakened from her dream knowing that she had been there. But when? How could she not remember a thing like that? But she knew now that she had been there during those lost four years. The iron key! She dashed to her handbag, pulled out the key and kissed it.
Candia caught the next flight to Boston. There she rented a car, bought a map, and headed for Newbampton.
Springtime in Newbampton was Cissie’s favourite time. Daffodils were appearing everywhere, the new grass was at last beginning to grow, there were big fat buds on the trees and the students were shedding their winter boots and jackets for jumpers and sleeveless denims, and the winter sale was over at Atwood’s Arcade. The spring clothes were just arriving and the shoppers were waking up to the call of pretty clothes. The arcade had even had its change of trees.
She noticed as she was passing Rose Cottage that someone was in the house opening shutters and she thought to herself, spring-cleaning. Cissie walked past Rose Cottage
often. She missed Jessica, and Rose Cottage was something of Jessica to hold on to. Today, as so often, she wished Jessica would come home. The beautiful, intriguing older woman had become her best friend, and she had added so much to her life.
It was lunchtime and Cissie was on her way to Ned Palmer’s. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes, glazed carrots and green beans, and coconut cream pie was on the menu and most of the regulars would be there for lunch. Everyone loved Ned’s meatloaf, he made it with pine nuts and creamed mushrooms, and he always ran out of his coconut cream pie. She was meeting an old friend, Terry Pugent, who worked at the bank. They sat together at the same table Cissie always sat at, the one with the view of the quadrangle.
Bridget Copley had been restless all morning. She was tetchy with everyone in the station, picking on every little thing. She was conscious of her restlessness even more than her officers were and finally, after throwing her third broken pencil across the room, she decided that she really had to get out of the station and into the fresh air. Spring fever? No, it was more than that, a morning of expectations that never developed. Was she hungry? The Thursday special at Ned’s would do her just fine. Food was a solace.
Well, of sorts. Even while eating the last Thursday special (and they had run out of the coconut cream pie), Bridget could not shake the feeling that something was on its way to her. She saw Cissie with her friend Terry by the window and waved to the two girls, and wondered that Cissie had finally worn Harold down. The wedding was in three weeks’ time.
Bridget felt a little mean about Cissie. Not a week went by that Cissie didn’t ask, ‘Any news about Jessica yet, Bridget?’ Of course there was news about Jessica, news that Bridget had had to swear to keep secret. She knew that Luke had found Jessica. She knew that he was gambling his happiness on Jessica finding her way back to Newbampton
and subsequently to him. But he had confided this to Bridget on the condition that no one else must know. He never told her Candia’s real story, the hidden life and secrets she had gone to such lengths to keep to herself. If ever it was to be told, it should come from Candia’s own lips.
Several people passed the sheriff’s table and stopped to chat to her, one person even to register a complaint. That was how Bridget missed saying goodbye to Cissie when she passed her table.
Bridget was having coffee and a piece of Ned’s cherry pie. The Thursday lunch rush was over, the place was almost empty. Ned came over and picked up her coffee cup and plate. ‘Why don’t you take Cissie’s table, Sheriff, and have a nice view of the quadrangle with all those flowers? Do you some good to relax over my pie.’
Bridget made the move. Everyone liked Cissie’s table, the view showed Newbampton at its best. She sipped her coffee and looked out of the window. She never tired of Newbampton. It was a peaceful, contented kind of place, at times a little sleepy perhaps, but never boring, with all the young students and the college and the many celebrated scholars who came to the famous women’s college. And then there were the locals, the medical people, the simple Cissies and Neds, the Jamies of this world. Yes, and even the exotic and magnificent Jessica who dropped into all their lives and made them all a little richer for knowing her. She saw Cissie and Terry kiss each other goodbye on the cheek and returned to her cherry pie and a newly filled cup of black coffee.
Cissie thought the day smelled of spring flowers and growing grass. The sun was out and she had spring fever. She looked at her watch and decided to sit in the quadrangle for a few minutes before going back to the shop. She sat on the very same bench where she had first seen Jessica. Cissie’s mind was adrift with thoughts of her wedding and how much she really loved Harold. She never saw the
woman approach the bench. Never saw her at all until she was looming over her. The sun was behind the woman and in Cissie’s eyes. Cissie had to shade them to see the woman’s face.
‘Jessica?’ asked a muddle-minded Cissie.
‘No, Candia, actually,’ said Candia, opening her arms as Cissie rose from the bench. ‘But you can call me Jessica, Cissie, the first friend I ever made in Newbampton.’
The two women fell into each other’s arms, hugged each other, the tears streaming down both their faces. They sat down on the bench and Candia tried to calm Cissie.
Bridget had finished her pie and was lingering over her coffee when she glanced through the window and saw Cissie sitting with Candia. A smile slowly crawled across her face. The town’s prodigal daughter had returned.
Luke had had a good morning. A massive donation to the hospital had been offered and accepted. He had done his rounds and there was more good news than bad for his patients. He had opened the windows in his office, placed his feet up on the sill, tilted back in his chair and had a fifteen-minute nap after lunching on Mrs Timms’ pork and chutney sandwiches and several cups of China tea.
Now he rose from his chair, slung his stethoscope round his neck, washed his hands and face. He looked at his watch. Half past three. As he walked from his office into the corridor, he wondered how many more good things could happen for him today. As he approached the lift, it gave that pinging sound and the doors slid open.