I Looked for the One My Heart Loves (14 page)

22

In the afternoon,
they
walked around Carmel. The town had some nice galleries and boutiques, and Anne bought some presents for her daughters and Thomas as well.

“He's my godson,” she told Alexis. “I'm debating between these two pairs of binoculars.”

As they took the shopping bags to the car, he asked her about the boy, and then Isabelle and Aurélie. Far from embarrassing her, the questions made Anne feel good. Up until then, she had thought that he wasn't interested in her family life, and she told him as much.

“I'm interested in everything about you,” he said.

Before going back to the villa, he showed her a steeper section of the coast. Leaving the car, they strolled along a rocky path at the top of the cliff, with a terrific view of the ocean down below. They sat on a large rock and enjoyed the sight of the Pacific. There was no one else around.

“I discovered the ocean only recently,” Alexis said. “When I was a kid, I used to go to the mountains.”

“My parents took me many times to Granville in Normandy. Back then, I'd lay on the beach all day long.”

“Where else did you go?”

For the first time, she talked about her vacations at her grandparents', swimming in the Indre River, bicycle rides through fields of sunflowers, the fairgrounds, playing with the village kids …

“Do you still go there?”

“Yes, to see my grandmother and Bernard. Sometimes my parents join us. … It's the only link I have to my childhood.”

“Your family didn't keep anything in Montmartre?”

“My father sold the apartment when he and my mother settled in the Touraine.”

“You guys lived on Rue Gabrielle, right?”

“Your memory is coming back?”

“Only snippets. I do remember hanging out with Bernard, sometimes getting into trouble.”

“You'd be surprised if you met him now. He's settled down big-time.”

Bit by bit, Anne told Alexis of her years without him. She talked about when she and her family came back home from the exodus, the Montmartre folks who had vanished, the air raids, running to the bomb shelters, the cold, the hunger, the fear.

“Some people snitched on others,” she added, and suddenly remembered her neighbor.

“While everyone thought she was collaborating with the Boches, she was working for the Résistance. Until the very end, she did that. What courage!”

As she spoke, Alexis imagined the teenage girl growing up in a place he never should have left. What would have happened to their relationship if there had been no war? Would his father still own the bookstore? Would Alexis have kept on seeing Bernard and his sister? The emptiness that had separated them for so many years was filling up with Anne's recollections. He now knew what she had hoped for, accomplished, what had made her the woman she now was, a woman who intrigued him, charmed him.

Anne was about to tell him everything, and then thought better of it. Learning that she had been in love with him when she was nine and that she had never forgotten about him might scare Alexis. It was best to let him think that their reunion was pure coincidence!

Not caring whether it was day or night, they fell asleep after making love, both fervently discovering the other's body once again. Not hiding the thrill she experienced each time he caressed her, Anne was enthralled by their compatibility. When she caught a glance of her own reflection in the mirror, she saw her feverish expression, the intense glimmer in her eyes. Never had she felt so complete.

When Alexis asked to take some pictures of her, her first inclination was to say no. She was afraid the camera might steal their secret! But then she changed her mind. Wouldn't she need proof that these three days had actually taken place?

After he took a series of photos, Anne grabbed the camera.

“My turn!” she said.

“Wait,” Alexis said, setting up the timer. “Let's take a picture of the two of us.”

While waiting for the camera to click, she thought of the importance that this picture would hold for her after she and Alexis left this place.

“I'll have the photos developed tomorrow,” he promised.

Early Sunday afternoon, Alexis turned on the television.

“I would have forgotten!” Anne admitted.

They sat together on the living room couch and, soon, an ancient dream became reality. Human beings were getting ready to walk on the face of the moon. Were they going to make it? Images coming from outer space showed the lunar module hovering above the moon's surface before landing a bit farther than planned. Anne and Alexis listened to the voice of Neil Armstrong, the mission's commander. Both had their eyes riveted on the screen.

“They're almost there!” Alexis said.

His enthusiasm reminded Anne of her husband. When they last spoke on the phone, all François talked about was the Apollo mission. For the first time, she had the feeling she was betraying him by sharing these moments with someone else! Trying to squelch a feeling of guilt that would only grow in intensity, she concentrated on the astronauts' maneuvers. They would have to wait many hours before they stepped out of the module. A long list of complicated verifications first needed to be made. Then, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were going to put on their spacesuits. After that, the lunar module was going to be depressurized.

By early evening, Anne and Alexis were holding their breath. Just like millions of viewers, they hoped that nothing bad was going to happen. And then an ungainly figure, a man wearing what looked like a diving suit, stepped out of the lunar module and set foot on the face of the moon. Then he took a step, then another, then a few more … Moved, Anne grabbed Alexis's hand and squeezed it tight. She turned to him and saw his expression. He looked like he had when he was a boy! Fifteen minutes later, a second astronaut joined Armstrong. Then the two pioneers began picking up lunar material.

“They're going to be out there for only two hours and forty-five minutes,” Alexis said. “Their oxygen and electricity reserves don't give them more time than that.”

Attentive, they watched the astronauts set up an aluminum laser reflector and a seismometer. Everything seemed so easy! After taking pictures and film of their surroundings, and receiving a message from the president of the United States, Armstrong and Aldrin planted the American flag and got ready to climb back into the lunar module.

“I just hope that takeoff goes well,” Anne whispered.

When the lunar module left the lunar surface, she sighed with relief.

The lunar module now had to reach the craft that Michael Collins, the third member of the crew, was piloting.

The broadcast ended late that night. Exhausted by the suspense, Alexis and Anne decided to go for a walk. Arm in arm, they headed for the ocean. What they had witnessed had thrilled them so much no words could have described what they were now feeling. Only one thing was certain: no matter what happened next, their personal history would be forever linked to a great historical event. …

At dawn, Alexis dropped Anne off in front of the St. Francis. Sleep deprived, she headed like a zombie toward the reception desk.

“Good morning,” the receptionist said.

“Do you have any messages for me?”

The receptionist handed her an envelope, and Anne immediately recognized Amanda's handwriting. Up in her room, she noticed that the staff had changed the flowers and filled the fruit basket. Anne set her bag down on an armchair and walked over to the window. After such an eventful­ evening, the American people had a hard time getting back to daily life. Union Square was still empty. Anne herself had the feeling that she was floating. They had left Carmel after their stroll on the beach. During the drive back, Anne hadn't wanted to fall asleep. All the while she tried to forget­ about the fact that she only had two days before flying back to France. What about Alexis? What was he going to do after she left? Would he go back to his old life as though nothing­ had happened between them? Sitting on the bed, she wondered­ how he would feel stepping back into the apartment­ he shared with Geneviève. Even though Alexis had said nothing about his wife, she didn't imagine her to be the unfaithful type. Thinking about all this made Anne anxious, and so she concentrated on Amanda's letter. It confirmed­ what she had been fearing. Her boss was hesitant­.
Monsieur­ Messager didn't tell us that his friend's work had never been exhibited
, she wrote.
It's a bit of a problem
. She added that it was always difficult to convince collectors to take an interest in an unknown artist. They preferred safe bets. … However­, if Anne thought that the artist was worth taking a few chances on, she would agree to hang two or three of his paintings in her gallery, along with some works by other artists. Anne dropped the letter to the floor.

She was sleeping when the phone startled her. It was François!

“Hi, Anne,” he said.

“Hi,” she said in a sleepy voice.

“I'm waking you up?”

“Kind of …”

“What an event! It was amazing!”

“Amazing,” she echoed.

“Did you watch the landing from your hotel room?”

“No,” she lied. “I was with the painter and his wife. At their house. What about you?”

“With the usual gang.” He meant his coworkers.

“I bet you guys celebrated the event in a big way.”

“You can say that again. But I missed you.”

“I'll be home soon.”

“I can't wait.”

“How are the girls?”

“They also can't wait for you to come home.”

In a hurry to put an end to the conversation, Anne pretended she couldn't hear François, as though the line was faulty. Then she hung up.

Since Benjamin Baxter had told her she was welcome to drop in any time she wanted, Anne visited midafternoon. Sitting behind his desk, he was reading the newspaper articles about the lunar landing.

They had lunched together shortly before Anne left for Carmel and hit it off. Very inquisitive, Benjamin had asked her about Paris, the best restaurants, the best galleries, what was “in …

“So, what did you think of Carmel?” he asked.

“The views are spectacular.”

“Did you go to Big Sur? Henry Miller lives there, you know.”

“No I didn't make it out there. It just didn't happen.”

Anne took a seat as Benjamin went to the back room to make some tea. As he did, she wondered about him. Though he looked about forty, she thought he might be older than that. Well dressed, elegant, sophisticated, he could have been a fashion magazine model. But she imagined that hiding behind the cool facade was a sad and disillusioned soul.

“I let it steep for three minutes,” he said, setting down the tray. “It's lapsang souchong tea.”

Sitting in a transparent plastic armchair, he asked Anne if her business trip had been a success.

“Not as much as I would've liked. My boss has a hard time making a decision concerning that artist I told you about. She doesn't feel like taking a chance on an unknown.”

“Don't force her hand, then. She won't take care of him like she should.”

“That's what I'm thinking, too,” Anne said. “But I hate that I gave someone false hope, especially since Phil never asked for anything in the first place.”

This time, she gave Benjamin more information about Phil Kasav.

“I'd love for you to see his work,” she said. “But he's afraid to show it. As a matter of fact, his wife is the one to convince. She's the one making decisions, and …”

She was interrupted when a young man of striking beauty walked into the gallery.

“You're early,” Benjamin said.

“My partner sprained his ankle,” the young man said. “We had to stop playing.”

“Let me introduce you to Anne.”

Turning to his guest, Benjamin continued, “This is Enrico … Tennis player in his spare time. …”

Enrico shook Anne's hand, and then went to the back store to fetch a bottle of Coke. Then he sat in the chair behind the desk, took a sip from the bottle, and started to turn the pages of a newspaper. Everything about Benjamin's friend was arresting: his thick black hair, his amazingly handsome face, his athletic body, the elegance of his hands. Were the two of them just friends or more than that? Anne didn't have to wonder for long, as Benjamin didn't hesitate to express his feelings for the young man.

“Well,” Anne said, “I should be on my way.”

Before she left, Benjamin wished her a safe trip back home.

“Thank you,” she said. “If you're ever in Paris, promise to come see me. You still have the gallery's contact information?”

23

That same evening,
Alexis
took Anne to Sausalito. This time, they met up with Phil and Lizzie at the Trident. With a view of the bay, the café was a very popular local spot. Tired at the end of a long day teaching, Alexis wasn't saying much. He simply enjoyed the sight of the ocean down below. On the other hand, Lizzie went on and on about a movie she had seen the Saturday before. Polite, Anne tried to pay attention to what she was saying, but having to hide the nature of her relationship with Alexis pained her. They weren't free to express their feelings for each other.

“You're leaving the day after tomorrow?” Phil asked.

“That's right,” Anne said.

Hesitating for a moment, she added, “I still can't give you a concrete response. Madame Kircher is suggesting that we take two or three of your paintings. I don't think it's enough.”

As soon as they left their friends, Alexis wrapped his arms around Anne.

“I want to spend the night with you,” he said.

Alexis thought it would be indiscreet to go to Anne's room and he didn't want to take her home, so he suggested they go to a motel.

“Our new palace,” he said, opening the door of an impersonal room.

The door had barely closed when Alexis kissed Anne with a fervor that stunned her. They staggered across the room, clutching each other like they were drowning, and wound up hitting the back wall. Her back against the wall, Anne let Alexis rip off her clothes. There was nothing tender about their movements. All they wanted was to undress and give way to their desire for each other. Her head back, Anne felt her lover's mouth slide from her shoulder to her breast. Then he lowered himself. His lips lingered on her stomach, and then found the soft spot of the groin. She uttered words he didn't hear. After a while, she wanted to kneel in front of him, but he wouldn't let her. He led her to the bed, and nothing existed for them except to push the limits of their passion. Protected by the anonymity of the room, they weren't afraid to express their preferences.

When Alexis got up to shower, Anne noticed his wallet on the nightstand. She couldn't resist the temptation to see if it contained any family pictures. Listening to the sound of the shower in the bathroom, she rifled through bills, a driver's license, and his auto insurance card. Then, behind a few business cards, she found two photos. One was of Alexis's parents on their wedding day. The other, Anne brought out under the bedside lamp. It was a recent picture of Alexis, a young woman, and a little boy posing in front of a Barnum & Bailey Circus tent. Her heart beating fast, Anne examined Geneviève's­ features. Short, brown-haired, petite, she seemed to be about thirty years old. Her forehead was hidden by thick bangs, and her hair fell down to her shoulders. Her sad eyes were fixed on the camera, and she wasn't smiling. As for the boy, he was looking at his father with a cheerful expression­. Anne hurried to put the wallet back in its place, lay back down in bed, and pretended to be asleep.

A few moments later, Alexis was back in the room. He leaned over Anne, kissed her hair, and said, “It's time to wake up.”

“Already?” she said in a sleepy voice.

Once alone, Anne thought about Geneviève. Rather pretty, not very friendly looking, she didn't seem to be that concerned with her husband and son. But she couldn't really judge anything from only one photo, could she? As she was spending her last day in California, she tried to forget about the “stolen picture,” and concentrated on some last-minute shopping. She bought fancy dresses for Aurélie's Barbie doll. For Isabelle, she chose a diary with a lock and some illustrated stationery. Then she realized she had nothing for François. In a sportswear shop, she picked a sweater she thought he would like. Having to leave San Francisco seemed unreal to her. Until now, she had made sure not to think about questions that would hurt her or spoil what she was experiencing.

Alexis was the one who finally brought up the topic. He had taken her to Berkeley. The campus was much quieter in the summertime. Some students were playing the guitar; others were chatting in groups. On the way back, the fog was thick. Taking the Bay Bridge, they had the feeling of entering a giant cotton ball. Anne wondered if her lover was going to take her to another motel. She hoped he would, but she let him make the decision. Seeing that Alexis was heading for Union Square, she feared that he would simply drop her off in front of the St. Francis, but he continued on to a park, where he stopped the car.

“You're leaving tomorrow,” he said, “and we haven't talked.”

“I didn't know whether you wanted to.”

“It's not a question of whether I want to. We just have to.”

Silent, she waited for him to continue.

“You and I, we're not free …”

“We knew that from the start.”

He lowered his head.

“What were you expecting when you suggested I come here?” Anne asked.

“I wanted to see you, and Phil was a great excuse.”

When Alexis turned to her, Anne realized how upset he was.

“I played with fire,” he said. “I didn't think about the consequences.” Pausing for a couple of seconds, he added, “What about you? Did you think about them?”

“Yes. As long as my family doesn't suffer from the choices I've made, I accept the responsibility.”

“That's right! Your family … And mine.”

“Nobody knows about us, what we shared!”

“You mean you're going to be able to return to Paris and forget all about the past two weeks?”

“What do you suggest we do?” she asked, her throat dry.

“Nothing.”

“And so I was right not to convince myself it was something more,” she said. “What we had together these past few days was wonderful. I don't regret anything.”

“Maybe you're more experienced than I am …”

“Experienced in what?”

“Having affairs.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“I don't know what to think. It's just that …” Alexis stopped mid-sentence.

Anne looked at him and thought that they were slowly sinking into an argument filled with fear, jealousy, and bitterness.

“Let's not make the situation harder than it already is,” Anne said. “I don't want to spoil the memories of the time we spent together. Tomorrow, I'm going to be on a plane to Paris. Your wife and son are going to come home …”

Alexis didn't let her finish her sentence. He started the car and headed downtown. He stopped in front of the St. Francis.

“Have a good flight,” he said as she stepped out of the automobile.

Up in her room, Anne was petrified. She never could have imagined that things would turn out the way they had. How had everything fallen apart so quickly? A surge of pride on both their parts? Anguish at the thought of their imminent separation? What was certain was that she was feeling absolutely miserable. What could she do to fix it? If only she could go back in time and prevent the ugly scene that had taken place in Alexis's car! How could they have been so stupid to deprive themselves of the last few hours they had together? He face buried in a pillow, she cried her heart out. She was shivering all over when the phone rang.

“Anne …”

Not waiting for a response, the voice continued, “Anne … I'm downstairs. In the lobby. Please come downstairs. Please come see me.”

“You came back,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“We can't let things end this way! I need to see you. Come downstairs.”

“I can't. I look awful. You better come up instead.”

“What's your room number?”

“Room 507. Make sure no one sees you. …”

She was splashing cold water on her face when he knocked on the door. As soon as he was in the room, Alexis hugged Anne. He also seemed very upset.

“I behaved like an idiot,” he said. “You make me so crazy. Please forget what I said. I beg you.”

“Before you came back, I was trying to convince myself that it was all a dream, just a nightmare.”

Seeing that Alexis was examining her, Anne hid her face with her hands.

“I must look terrible.”

“I've seen you looking better,” Alexis said, teasing.

To see her smile reassured him.

“But I still think you're incredibly attractive,” he added.

Feeling that the storm had passed, they gazed at each other.

“If I hadn't come back, you wouldn't have called me?” he asked, while knowing the answer.

“That's right.”

“You're as stubborn as a mule!”

This time, she burst out laughing. While she went over to the door to hang the do not disturb sign, Alexis took in her room. For the first time, he was in her private world. On the dressing table was a small bottle of Chanel. Next to it, some beauty products and a gold necklace. On the bed and armchairs, clothing that was waiting to be piled into the opened suitcases on the floor. He turned to the window as Anne pulled shut the long drapes. Barefoot, her dress wrinkled, she looked more accessible, more familiar, more fragile.

“I don't want to leave you until tomorrow morning,” he said.

During this last night together, made up of pillow talk, lovemaking, and short bouts of sleep, they realized that their relationship had taken a major extra step. They were now a man and a woman helpless in the face of a situation they no longer controlled.

“Am I going to be able to write to you?” Alexis asked, watching for Anne's reaction.

“Yes. I'm the one opening the mail at the gallery.”

“Are you going to write back?”

“Where?”

“I'll get a P.O. box.”

As he played with a strand of her hair, Anne imagined the days ahead without him. How was she going to stand being apart from him? That and knowing the he was going to be with someone else? If only they had found each other before both had gotten married!

“Do you think you might come to France this winter?” she asked.

“I'm going to try, but I can't promise anything.”

She noticed that he didn't ask her if she planned on coming back to the States. Did he need to think about the feelings he had for her? Or was it because of his wife and son's presence? Anne knew that she couldn't underestimate the importance of family.

As though he could read her mind, Alexis whispered, “Let's give ourselves a bit of time.”

“Time! So many things could happen! An accident, one of us getting sick …”

She didn't add, “And I've waited so long already!”

Alexis offered to drive Anne to the airport the next morning, but she didn't want him to.

“It'd be too sad,” she said. “No, you have to leave here as though we're going to see each other again a bit later. I want you to leave sometime tonight, when I least expect it.”

When would she stop surprising him? With her, there was nothing definite, nothing set in stone, nothing planned. And that was one of the things he loved about her. She slipped out of the bed and headed for the bathroom, and he smelled her perfume on the pillow. He could hear the tub filling. Then she began to sing, and he got up to join her. Lying in the tub with bubbles up to her chin, she raised her eyebrows.

“You're not sleeping?”

Without speaking, he bent over and kissed her. A whiff of honeysuckle reached his nostrils. He took her face between his hands and kissed her eyelids, her nose, her chin. Then he went back into the room.

After enjoying the hot water for a while, Anne washed her hair. Wearing a bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her head, she stepped into the room.

She couldn't see Alexis.

“Alexis, where are you? Are you hiding?”

She looked inside the closet and behind the drapes, and then spotted the piece of paper next to the phone.

You said you wanted me to leave when you'd least expect it. That's what I did. Take care of yourself. A.