Julie's Butterfly (8 page)

“Does it happen all over your body?”

“Everywhere. But I’ve got a relatively mild form. My skin is mostly stable. It mainly affects my hands, feet, and joints, because they’re what I use most in daily life.”

“That’s why you wear the gloves,” observed Julie.

“Well, they help some, but I don’t really use them to protect my hands from injury.” He smiled ruefully as he recalled the days before he began hiding his hands. He didn’t know which he had found more humiliating, the deprecating looks or the abusive words.

“People,” said Bastian slowly, “are . . . cruel.”

“Not all of them,” she protested.

“But most.”

“People are afraid of what they don’t know,” she said, searching for an explanation, for him, for herself, for everyone.

It was futile to try to consider society’s motives. He’d been trying to do so most of his life. In any case, he’d had to dwell on it for a lot longer than Julie had.

“You’re probably right,” he said with a smile. “But there’s really nothing for people to fear. That’s why I’m explaining it to you. Epidermolysis bullosa isn’t infectious, but it is a disease.”

“So there are different forms?”

He nodded. “There are three main forms, and each of those has several subtypes, depending on which gene is defective. The mutations are so numerous that they can’t be easily identified. And each form has different degrees of severity. It may be that a patient with a very severe case of the mildest form is affected worse than someone like me who’s affected by a milder form of the worst kind.”

“What other symptoms are there?”

“Apart from the visible manifestations, severe cases can have large-scale wounding, problems with the mucous membranes and teeth, hair loss, muscular dystrophy, fusion, or deformities. There’s also an increased risk of skin cancer.”

He studied Julie uncertainly. Those were the hard facts. Confronting someone in this way with his condition was a new experience for him. To his amazement, Julie’s reaction was in no way dismissive; actually, it looked as though she was concentrating hard on what he was saying.

She looked like an ambitious medical student, processing what she heard as she sucked in her plump lower lip.

Looking at her, he was suddenly blindsided by the memory of those same soft lips on his sensitive hand. He longed for another kiss, to feel her warmth on his skin, but he immediately pushed such outlandish thoughts aside. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Is there a cure?” she asked.

“The disease is so rare that there’s relatively little interest in it. There are a few dedicated researchers searching for cures, through gene therapy, for example, but they’ve got a long way to go. For now, all they can do is alleviate the symptoms. But no, it can’t actually be cured.”

Bastian could see that Julie had more questions, but she held her tongue as Luke came storming back into the café. His cheeks were rosy, and he was panting after the exertions of play. He flopped down happily on the chair next to Julie and took a gulp of his chocolate, which had gone cold.

Luke’s cheerful presence brought their conversation to a close.

Once the boy had rested a bit, they decided to visit the ape enclosure. It was part of the jungle house, a huge new complex of buildings designed to display a variety of species. The gorilla exhibit housed five animals, who were spread out among clusters of branches and rocky outcroppings arranged above a mossy floor in a faithful replica of the rain forest. The only reminder that this was a cage was the high glass frontage where the spectators stood.

“Look, Julie!” Luke pointed to one of the males. A large gorilla was entertaining an enthusiastic youngster, whom he heaved gallantly onto his back. “The ape looks like Dad. He’s as strong as that.”

He stretched up to see more, but his small size prevented him from doing so. “I can’t see,” he said, turning to Bastian. “Could you please lift me up?”

Bastian hesitated initially, but then overcame his reluctance at getting close to the child and lifted him carefully into his arms. He was amazed to find how strong the boy was. He felt Luke’s warmth and energy as he shifted around and put his arm around Bastian’s neck. Bastian was moved by this intimate gesture—he’d never been so close to a child before.

Obviously delighted by the new perspective, Luke pointed to another gorilla chewing on a twig. “And that one looks like Grandpa. He always looks strict like that.”

He giggled and looked expectantly at Bastian for confirmation. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know your grandpa,” replied Bastian with a smile.

“Ah, you’ll see what I mean when you come to his birthday party.” Luke paused. “You are coming, aren’t you?”

“Luke,” admonished Julie. Her warning tone did nothing to curb the boy’s enthusiasm.

Looking at his aunt uncomprehendingly, he said, “But I like him. I want him to come.”

Julie shuffled nervously from foot to foot and smiled apologetically at Bastian.

“Grandpa said I could bring a friend with me, but Jacob can’t come,” insisted Luke. He bore such a resemblance to his aunt as he spoke that Bastian could hardly conceal his smile. “We could play football together,” he said to Bastian, as though he could never refuse such an invitation.

Bastian looked at Julie. He could see that she found the situation uncomfortable, which reminded him abruptly of the facts. At the end of the day, this was a family party. Although Bastian had no idea exactly how Julie’s father intended to celebrate his birthday—as he had never himself attended such an event—he knew that family parties were occasions for close friends and relatives.

And that didn’t include him.

Ignoring the knot in his stomach, he frantically sought a reply that would satisfy Luke without actually lying to the boy.

“Bastian will probably have to work,” said Julie finally, attempting to bring the discussion to a close. Her tone was gentle, sensitive—and regretful.

“Over the weekend?” Luke asked. He gave Bastian a disapproving look that was remarkably worldly-wise for his age. “You’re just as bad as Dad,” he grumbled, but to Bastian’s amazement, he dropped the subject.

After watching the apes and laughing at the way the younger ones made life difficult for their elders, they moved on. Looking back, Bastian realized he’d never had a day like it—not only because Julie now knew about him, but also because her exuberance and Luke’s made it easier for him to free himself from his own inhibitions and fears.

For the first time in his life, his disease receded into the background and he was simply a man spending the day with two wonderful people.

C
HAPTER
12

It was already twilight when Julie and Bastian dropped Luke off at home. At the gate, Luke gave Bastian a high five, then stretched up to give Julie a kiss on the cheek. “See you next week,” he called out before turning and running up the flagstone path to the front door.

Julie saw her sister standing at the window. She gave Jo a cheerful wave, well aware that Jo wanted to have a look at Julie’s last-minute companion since Jo had missed him earlier that day.

Relieved that the door had been answered by her brother-in-law, Max—who had no great interest in the men in Julie’s life—she had introduced Bastian briefly, grabbed Luke, and left.

Jo gestured for Julie and Bastian to come in, but Julie shook her head. Jo looked disappointed, but then held up her hand to her ear to indicate that her sister should give her a call. Julie nodded, knowing that her inquisitive sister would be impatient to hear chapter and verse on Bastian. But she didn’t want to think about that now; after all, she still didn’t know herself how things stood between them.

She had been strongly attracted to him ever since meeting him at the opening. After getting to know him a little better, she knew for certain that there was a sensitive man behind his cool facade. She considered his mercurial moods to be a symptom of his inner conflict, and she didn’t hold it against him. She could hardly imagine being constantly confronted with pain and discrimination. Since telling her about his disease that afternoon, something seemed to have been released in him. He appeared less tense, laughed more, and looked almost relaxed.

On the way home, they stopped at a small bistro and shared a pizza. Though it couldn’t strictly speaking be considered a date, Julie was unable to shake the impression that the atmosphere between them was becoming increasingly charged. While Luke had been around, their interactions had been friendly and platonic in nature, but that had changed. Her body reacted instinctively to the attractive man sitting across from her, and she allowed his gaze to wander over her admiringly.

Bastian walked Julie home. Once they were inside the building, he followed her down the corridor, but then stopped with a frown outside her door. It appeared to bother him that he had followed her up without thinking.

“Do you want to come in?” asked Julie as she opened the door.

He regarded her uncertainly. “Julie, all I can offer you is friendship.”

Julie bit her lip tensely. “And if that’s not enough for me?”

Bastian stared at her imploringly.

“You know what?” she said. “I see things differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re upsetting me,” she said coolly, straightening her shoulders. “Not because of your disease, but because you let yourself be controlled by it.” She began to tremble with frustration. “And I’ll tell you something else,” she burst out, stepping closer to him and giving him an enraged stare, “I most certainly
am
your type!”

He let out a pained sigh, then suddenly moved toward her with such a desperate intensity that Julie let out a surprised gasp. He pressed his lips to hers with such force that his breath rushed into her lungs. His kiss was hard, greedy, demanding. Hers no less so.

She threw her arm around his neck and ran her fingers through his dark hair as his hands moved up and down her back. Their bodies pressed close as they succumbed to the heat of the moment.

Bastian released himself from her grasp, rested his forehead on hers, and looked deep into her dark eyes. “Yes,” he whispered. “You are.”

Julie smiled, then they lost themselves once more in a kiss, which soon became a promise of something more. The automatic corridor lighting went out with a quiet click, but they took no notice.

In the darkness that enveloped them, Julie drew her arm more tightly around Bastian and led him gently but resolutely into her apartment. She leaned back against the wall as Bastian continued to kiss her. She felt herself wrapped in his warmth, inside and out. In his arms, she felt infinitely more fragile than he was.

She had no idea how long they stood there, utterly intoxicated by each other. She knew only one thing: she wanted more. Her hands slid impatiently beneath his jacket. At her touch, he started almost imperceptibly, but she slid his jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She buried her nose in his neck, breathed in his scent, and let out a contented sigh.

As she laid her lips once again on his, she started to guide him across the entryway into her bedroom. Bastian deftly removed her cardigan on the way.

They stumbled, laughing, through the darkened room until Julie finally dragged him down with her onto her bed. He followed only too willingly. Not wanting to crush Julie beneath his weight, he sank down beside her. He ran his hands over the contours of her body, but his gloves dulled the sensation for both of them. She was unable to feel him as she really wanted to, skin on skin.

Mustering all her strength, she drew back. “Wait a moment,” she said softly and leaned back to switch on a small bedside lamp.

Bastian blinked in the dim light. A groan of frustration escaped him, but Julie took no notice.

“I want to see you,” she declared, smiling at him so guilelessly that his displeasure faded. Spellbound, he raised a hand to her cheek. The leather felt cool on her hot face.

Julie took his hand and gently tugged at his left index finger to loosen the glove, closely watching his expression as she did so. Bastian tensed up but nodded as she removed first one glove, then the other.

Though his hands were no less disfigured than the first time she’d seen them, Julie was completely undeterred. She briefly checked that he had no wounds that could hurt under her touch, but the only place she noticed was bandaged over. She gently moved his hand back to her face and nestled into it. His hand was warm, strong, and covered with hard, uneven calluses. As his thumb stroked her cheek, she smiled.

His green eyes widened in wonder. He seemed almost reverential toward her. For the first time since she had led him into her bedroom, she felt uneasy. She had simply abandoned herself to her desires, but now she wondered at what price. She suddenly felt compelled to take a step back.

“I just want to make something clear,” she said, embarrassed. “I don’t make a habit of inviting men in unless I’ve known them for some time. Certainly not to my bed.”

The corners of Bastian’s mouth twitched. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you tonight,” she said decisively, but suddenly paused. He had told her that friction could lead to wounding. “I mean, if that’s even possible,” she added uncertainly.

Bastian lowered his hand. “I’ve been with a few women in my time,” he said. “In my case I’m happy to report that there’s nothing in particular you have to be aware of.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re into S and M. That might be a problem,” he said drily.

A surge of relief flowed through Julie. “I think you can consider yourself safe on that count,” she giggled and kissed the back of his hand. He swallowed hard but didn’t flinch. “Even so, I still don’t want to go all the way tonight.”

Bastian gave a pained sigh. “That’s too bad.”

Julie laughed and snuggled back into him. She laid her head on his upper arm with her face turned to him. “But stay here anyway,” she whispered. “Just for a while.”

He nodded, sealing his promise with a tender kiss. Julie felt his afflicted hands wandering across the fabric of her soft T-shirt and stiff jeans. His thumbs slid beneath her top and gently stroked her skin. She broke out in goose bumps and gasped with pleasure.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” she asked quickly, trying to remain true to her good intentions.

“I’d love one,” he replied equally quickly.

Julie struggled up from the bed. At the door she paused and gazed at him with an amused smile. “Go ahead and make yourself a bit more comfortable. You’ve still got your shoes on.”

An embarrassed smile spread across his face. She saw no trace of the arrogant man she had first met. She ran into her kitchen and grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses from the cupboard.

The phone started ringing in the background, but she ignored it. She wanted to be back in Bastian’s arms. Her answering machine clicked, and Jo’s voice sounded down the corridor. “Hey, Sis. If you’re not answering your phone that must mean you’re busy with far more important things. I really hope you’ll give this dream of a man priority over Mother’s matchmaking where the great birthday party is concerned. Speaking of which, I found out who your intended escort is, and I’d love to swap places with you,” she sighed effusively. “Anyway, I’ve got one or two bits of news, and besides, I’m bursting with curiosity. Call me. Love you.”

Julie gave a frustrated sigh. She was sure Bastian must have heard every word of Jo’s message. She could hardly imagine what must be going through his head. It contained too much information to simply be ignored. She feverishly considered how she could explain the matter of her dinner escort as neutrally as possible. The architect was not her choice, and there was still time to tell her mother that she’d be bringing her own companion. Having Bastian by her side would certainly make the party a little more bearable.

She would just ask him if he wanted to go with her, but if she sensed that he thought things were moving too fast, she wouldn’t put pressure on him—she knew from experience the effect that could have on him, and she wasn’t about to do it to him again. After all, they’d only known each other for a short time and only kissed for the first time a few minutes ago. The decision to introduce someone to the family was not one to make lightly, and Bastian would also have to face up to the challenge of her mother and she was . . . well . . . she was how she was. If he didn’t want to go, she would accept it, but she would at least ask him.

She returned resolutely to her bedroom and peeked through the door. Bastian had propped a cushion behind his back and was relaxing on her bed, with Spot purring on his lap. He was gently stroking the small cat’s fur, and her eyes were half-closed with delight. He looked so fascinated that it struck her that this might be the first time he had ever felt an animal’s soft fur with his bare hands. In the muted light of the bedside lamp, his scarred hands cast sharp shadows on Spot’s white fur. The sight of this contrast made her feel weak inside.

So many scars. So much pain.

And yet she couldn’t stop herself from watching him in total wonder.

Sensing her presence, he looked up. His expression wasn’t cold, but guarded. He must have heard what Jo said.

“I hope you like red wine,” said Julie nervously, approaching the bed slowly. “If she likes someone, she can be very affectionate.” Julie looked at her cat with a smile. She opened the wine, filled the two glasses, and put them down on the bedside table. Then she sat cross-legged across from Bastian on the bed and braced herself for the coming conversation.

He was silent for a moment. “She’s incredibly trusting,” he remarked eventually, his attention focused on Spot.

“She knows what she wants,” said Julie with a smile, tickling Spot behind the ear. “But she’s a very special cat, that’s for sure.”

“What’s she called?”

“Spot.”

Bastian smiled.

“I know it’s not a very elegant name, but it suits her.” She indicated the black spot between the cat’s ears with a grin.

“Where did you get her?” he asked.

She looked at him thoughtfully. Could it be that he hadn’t heard Jo’s message after all? Or did he simply not want to talk about it?

“From a rescue center,” she replied. “She actually belongs to Luke. He had his heart set on having a pet, but it turned out Max is allergic to animals, so we decided she could stay here.”

“That’s very generous of you.”

“Well, I thought a bit of company would be nice. A dog’s out of the question in this small apartment, and I find fish boring.”

“You’d have preferred a dog?”

“No, I think I’m more of a cat person. What about you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The smile playing at the corners of his mouth said it all.

At a loss for words, Julie sipped her wine and licked her lips. As she noticed him gazing at her mouth, a pure surge of desire coursed through her body. The intensity of her longing still nagged at her. It wasn’t that her last relationship had been a few months ago and that her dormant desire had been fully awakened by his presence—at least, that wasn’t the only thing. It was simply that she instinctively longed to feel closer to him. Judging by the gleam in his eye, he felt the same way.

“Why is green your favorite color?” he asked suddenly.

“What makes you think that?”

“Everything around here is green. The walls, most of your scarves, the cardigan you wore today . . .”

She swallowed her surprise at his perceptiveness. “I like it because it’s so full of life.” She studied him inquisitively. “What’s your favorite color?”

“White.”

“That’s not a color,” she protested with a smile. “Technically speaking, at least. Even if it is, white’s viewed as an achromatic color, or so Isabelle tells me.”

Bastian’s lips twitched. “An achromatic color is still a color.”

“Touché.” Julie acknowledged defeat and took a sip of her wine.

Bastian rubbed his hand over his chin, and she hoped he’d bring the conversation around to more serious matters. But he didn’t. Instead he asked what her favorite sound was. She wasn’t sure why he wanted to know all these trivial details about her, but since he’d answered her questions so readily that afternoon, it seemed only fair that she should return the favor.

As he lowered his hand, she reached eagerly for it and began to play with his fingers. She felt out the fine irregularities of his skin, tracing the sensitive scars and hard edges of his fingertips. At first, he seemed uncomfortable with it, but she deliberately ignored his reaction, and eventually, his hand relaxed in hers. He continued firing an endless succession of questions at her. The best books she’d ever read. The ancient wonders of the world she’d most like to see. The famous person she’d most like to meet. The craziest thing she’d ever done. The songs she could listen to again and again. Finally, his thirst for knowledge appeared to be sated.