Summer Of My Secret Angel (9 page)

1. CINDERELLA’S CASTLE
   

IN A SPACIOUS kitchen, vanilla cupboards
hugged white walls. The warm smell of freshly baked bread wafted
through the room. The oak table sat eight, and with me the sole
occupant at one end, the thing extended like the runway of a
fashion show.

The island in the middle of the room
reflected in the stainless steel fridge door as Marie rummaged
through the shelves. The metallic giant should have come with a
map. It was clear Marie was getting lost in there.

“I hope Albert did not eat it all. Ah, here
it is.” She emerged with a bundle enveloped in wax paper and
grabbed a plate from one of the cupboards. She removed the
wrapping, revealing a pastry of some kind, which she shoved in the
microwave for a few seconds. Moments later, she placed the steaming
snack in front of my folded arms.

With her elbows propped on the table, she
lowered into the chair next to me. “Eat,
chérie.
You must be
hungry.”

“No, I’m not,” I said. The same instant, my
stomach gave a traitorous rumble.

Her laughter, like the peals of a tinkling
bell, bounced off the walls and filled the room. “You are family,
Jona, and very welcome in this house. Do not be shy to help
yourself to anything.” The soft shine in her eyes made me feel she
meant every single word.

But why now? What drove this woman to play
the good auntie today, when for almost eighteen years she hadn’t
even cared if I lived or died? This woman was a stranger to me.
She’d never come to our small flat in Cambridge when I still lived
with my mother, nor had Charlene ever mentioned a sister in France.
I knew nothing about Marie and wondered how much more she knew of
me.

Another rumble started in my gut.
Embarrassed, I pressed my fist to my stomach and wished it would
just shut up. My aunt flashed an understanding grin. I didn’t care
for it. But it would have been a shame to throw away the delicious
smelling food now that she’d already heated it. I pinched the puff
pastry from the plate and nibbled at one end. The flavors exploded
in my mouth. It was a crime not to lick my lips free of any crumbs
that remained.

Happy that I was eating, Marie nodded. When
the kettle on the marble counter gave a short beep, she placed a
palm to my cheek for the briefest moment. Her hand was gone too
quickly for me to even think about flinching from her touch.

“I will take this cup to your mother.” My
aunt poured steaming water into a mug and dipped a tea bag in and
out. “Then we can start with
la tour
.”

I nodded while I took another small bite
from the pastry. A couple minutes later, the snack was gone and I
waited for Marie’s return. Three minutes stretched into five. What
kept her away so long? After all, my mother’s room was just around
the corner.

Tracing the geometrical line of triangles
along the plate’s brim kept me occupied for another minute or two.
I chewed on my lower lip. How rude that she could forget about me
in such a short time. No voices in the hallway or footfalls
announced her return. The
tap-tap-tap
of my shoe against the
warm terracotta tiles on the floor was the only sound cutting the
eerie silence. Bored now, I pushed to my feet and carried the plate
over to the sink; it took a minute to wash up.

“I see you are already making yourself
useful,” Aunt Marie chimed behind me.

I whipped around and met her delighted gaze
in the doorway.

She took the plate from my hands to store
the saucer away in a cupboard above my head. “Come. It is time to
see your new home.” Soft hands on my shoulders shoved me out
through the door.

The living room on the opposite side of the
hallway was partly walled with panes facing west. Gorgeous sunlight
filtered through. A grand piano in front of the windowpane
dominated the room. According to the set of sheet music on the
stand, the glamorous instrument was actually used. My fingers
brushed over the ivory keys chiming three dissonant notes as I
walked by.

Next to an open fireplace, a big grandfather
clock ticked in a hypnotic rhythm. It took me into a past, where
the sound of a clock had provided my only comfort at night. My hand
lifted to my left elbow, an injury that had long since healed. I
pushed the memory away.

After I finished my walk around the room,
Marie showed me their bedroom and my uncle’s study, the one room
I’d gotten a sneak peek into earlier.

When I stepped out into the hallway again,
the front door tempted me as it stood ajar. A warm breeze beckoned
me to take the chance and break free. Maybe, if I could catch Marie
in an unaware moment and make a dash for the exit, I would get
enough of a head-start to find a hiding place in the woods we had
passed on the way here. In the dark I’d travel back to the airport
and somehow manage to get a flight back to London.

Hands shoved into my empty pockets, I
abandoned the idea of escape. With no money, the journey home would
be more of an adventure than I cared for. A snort came over my lips
as my mind worked hard on another solution.

“This is our bathroom. You can take a look
as well if you like.” Marie stepped in front of me and ruined my
hope for freedom.

She knew what I was thinking.

For now it was best to follow her. Later,
when I had a few minutes to myself, I’d make a detailed plan of my
bid for freedom.

The only downstairs room I didn’t get to see
was my mother’s. Fine with me. I’d be happy as long as the dragon
remained inside her hole with the door shut. But to my annoyance
the wooden door cracked open just as we headed back to the
stairs.

Julian slipped out and silently closed the
door, taking every care a parent would when leaving the nursery of
his sleeping newborn.

“Is she asleep?” Marie’s voice dropped to a
whisper.

Julian nodded.

“Ah, the ever-present caretaker. Did you
tuck her in like a toddler and kiss her goodnight at three o’clock
in the afternoon?” I said.

He leaned closer and whispered, “I can do
that with you tonight if you like.”

My gulp echoed in the high hallway. I
stepped back, fixing him with an unimpressed stare. A tingle in my
stomach irritated me while shock and excitement pulsed through my
veins.

Marie slapped his arm. “Oh, be nice,
Julian,” she scolded him, but he only laughed. Then my aunt turned
toward me. “Your mother sleeps a lot these days. And the journey to
London exhausted her even more.” She snaked her arm around my waist
and made me move forward. “Come,
chérie
. I believe you want
to see your room next.”

Upstairs, the corridor spread to both sides.
I whirled around on the gallery, enjoying the sunny place. As I
leaned over the balustrade, I saw Julian below, crossing the
hallway with loose-limb strides, headed for the kitchen. Sunrays
breaking through the dormer made the fair strands of his hair
gleam. Being tucked in by him might make an interesting experience.
My heart beat faster.

He stopped as if he could feel me watching
him. His gaze lifted to me. His blue eyes twinkled.

Shit.
I jerked back as embarrassment
filled me. I whirled around to face Marie and let her show me to my
room. His soft chuckles drifting to me from downstairs annoyed me
to no end.

“We have a small library up here,” Marie
explained and pointed to the door around the corner to our right.
“You can get yourself books whenever you like. Julian stays in the
room on the far left. And this will be yours.”

Great, Julian didn’t only live in the same
house, but also on the same floor. One foot of solid wall was all
that separated us. I suppressed a snort.

Next to Julian’s room, she opened the door
to my private place, and I entered. As I crossed the threshold, I
found myself in a fifteen-by-fifteen-foot piece of heaven. My
breath caught in my throat, and I truly hoped my jaw wasn’t hanging
open.

Sunshine swamped in through wide windows on
two connecting walls. The wind played with sheer curtains, pushing
the white fabric in and out through the French door at the far wall
that exposed a beautiful balcony.

The rubber soles of my boots made a
squeaking sound on the light gray parquet floor as I crossed to the
bed made of maple wood. A teddy bear was carved into the footboard
and lured me to trace its outlines with my fingers. My hands
skimmed over the floral design of the covers, and I enjoyed the
luxurious feeling of the silken bedding. They were nothing like the
stiff covers in the orphanage.

“I hope this room is not too childish for
you.” My aunt’s worried voice broke my fascination. “Albert built
the furniture with timber from our own woods. That was in the early
days of our marriage when we hoped for children.”

In the mirror of the wardrobe door, I caught
a glimpse of her sad eyes as she rocked in a white rocking chair
with a stuffed bear cradled in her arms. Although I hadn’t paid
much attention the night before, I remembered my mother mentioning
that my aunt and uncle didn’t have kids of their own.

If it had been anyone else, I would have
asked straight away. But facing my aunt who had looked at me with
those big warm eyes from the moment had I arrived, I considered it
rude to ask for the reason they didn’t have kids. However, my
staring must have given me away.

“A genetic disease.” She rose from the
chair, placing the teddy back on the seat. Then she crossed the
room in a stride that made it hard to back off. “I cannot get
pregnant.”

As she caressed my cheek, I was wondering
if, over the years, she’d longed for a child as much as I had
yearned for a caring mother. Everything might have gone differently
if I had been born her daughter.

Marie would have loved me.

I bit down on the anger of this realization.
After all, I wasn’t supposed to like this stranger aunt of mine.
But when she pulled her soft hand away, I almost reached for it to
bring it back to my face. I covered the awkwardness by scratching
my nose then marched toward a door standing ajar next to the
wardrobe. “What’s behind there?”

“A bathroom. Both upstairs rooms have
one.”

“You’re shitting me. A bathroom for my
private use?” With the door opened fully, I popped my head inside,
then turned back at my aunt and cocked one brow. “Let me guess, you
hoped for a girl?”

Marie laughed. “What gave me away? The pink
and white tiles? Yes, I did hope for a girl. But also for a boy.
Julian’s bathroom is tiled all in white and blue.”

Curiosity nagged at me; I wondered whether
our rooms were totally identical. But I refused to ask. I didn’t
want her thinking I was in any way interested in the guy. Because I
sure as hell was not.

“We will eat at seven,” Aunt Marie informed
me. “Take the time to refresh and make yourself at home. Albert
brought up your backpack earlier and stored it in the
wardrobe.”

Some alone time sounded fantastic after this
long day with people always surrounding me. I nodded, longing for
the first shower in a private bathroom after more than twelve
years.

“I will give you a shout when dinner is
ready.” As soon as the door closed behind her, I felt a bit lost.
Of course she said this was my room now, but I had my doubts and
refused to see it as such. The bed, so nicely made, tempted me.

I eased onto the mattress. Not one bedspring
gave so much as a peep. With my feet dangling from the edge, I sank
into the pillow and started counting the small round spotlights
dotting the ceiling. I could sneak out of the room and downstairs
now. With any luck, no one would notice my disappearance within the
next three hours, until it was time for dinner. A fantastic and
maybe unique chance.

The curtains wafted over my face. A soft
wind carried the scent of trees and freshly cut grass into my room.
I took a deep breath.

And what if I stayed? Could I bear to live
in this house for six weeks?

Tempting. But beyond all question.

The most I would do was delay my escape for
one night. After all, it would have been a shame not to test this
cozy bed just once.

I sat up with a jerk, kicked off my shoes so
they’d not mess the beautiful bedding, and knelt on the mattress
with my arms propped on the windowsill above the headboard. My head
slipped under the thin fabric of the curtain. With the first glance
outside, a stunned whistle escaped through my teeth.

A slim path led away from the house, about
three hundred feet, to a giant garden that rolled out like an
oversize vegetable patch. The whole vineyard was laid out in all
its splendid glory in front of me.

Lush green shrubs rose side by side from the
ground in several square yards. Broader paths separated them. The
soft wind ruffled the fuzzy heads of the bushes. In the distance
the misty rain from the sprinklers performed a dance of sparkles.
Birds took a busy bath in it. I’d never seen such an enchanting
place before. Not in reality, anyway.

I closed my eyes for a couple seconds,
wondering how it might have felt as a child to run free and
explore.

What would it feel like now?

The pounding of my heart in my ears, the
wind in my hair—I hoped I’d get to roam the place soon.

What would Quinn say if he knew what a
beautiful prison Abe had sent me to? He’d probably tell me to
forget about my mother and enjoy the French way of life.

But I could never forget about that woman or
pretend she wasn’t there.

Or could I?
I might for one day.
A
grin tugged on my lips. In high spirits, I bounced off the bed and
went to inspect the bathroom.

The pink and white room was like walking
into a fantasy. The sun peeked through frosty glass, gracing a
spacious shower cubicle in the corner with warm light. Pulling one
of the huge towels out, I rubbed the soft fabric to my face then
wrapped it around my shoulders, drowning in the scent of peach. I
could happily move into this small room for the rest of my
stay.