The Accidental Mistress (35 page)

"Things are not. Have you called him?" Joi
asked, dropping her hands to her hips.

"Who?" Zuri mumbled softly.

"You know who. Christophe Montague. Have you
called him?"

"It's over. After the things I said to him,
he wouldn’t want to speak to me."

"Zuri, why did you do this? It's as if
you’re punishing yourself for falling for the guy. If you cared for
him, you should have fought for him."

"I signed a deal that said differently. You
know the reasons why."

Joi threw her hands up in defeat. "The
problem is, Zuri, no one asked you to. If you're miserable, then
change it. Don't wait another year or so and fill your life with a
bunch of regrets. It's not too late."

"Look at you. What makes you so wise." Joi
didn't share in the joke. Her voice sounded as tired as Zuri felt
about the subject of Christophe Montague. They'd talked it to death
after he left and the tears stopped flowing. Neither wanted to
dredge it up again.

"I'm not wise. I just want to do for you
what you've done for us. I want you to be happy again." She turned
and left. Zuri watched her sister disappear out of the door. She
had no one to blame but herself. But what was done couldn't be
undone. No matter how much she wished differently. Christophe was
gone.

***

Christophe opened the door for Davis. He
wiped his hand over his worn t-shirt then headed back through the
narrow open spaces between three-foot tall cardboard boxes.
"Careful where you step, I broke a vase and a glass. I'm terrible
at this."

"Wow, you packed it all up yourself? Why not
hire someone to do it?"

"Didn't take long. I have the movers coming
for this later today. Besides I'm on a budget," Christophe mumbled
under his breath. He picked up his open bottle of water and drank
the rest. Davis looked quite funny in his suit trying to step
around the clutter. "Do you have the papers?" Christophe asked.

"Your mother's putting up an hell of a
fight. She actually thinks she can force you to stay. She's even
threatened to do it legally, which we advised against. The media
attention would hurt Montague."

"We both know she won't tolerate that."

Davis nodded.

"Give me the papers," Christophe said.

"You do understand that after this is final,
you sever all ties with the Montague trust. Your inheritance, all
of it's gone. She's cutting you out of her will, too. We're talking
billions of dollars here, Christophe."

"I have enough money to get by. The Montague
money has never given me anything but misery. I understand why my
father walked away from it, from her."

"Still you need to consider
this a bit further
—
"

"I want this over." Christophe snapped. He
crushed the plastic water bottle, now drained dry, and tossed it to
the top of a box. "The papers, Davis. Hand them over."

Davis lifted his hand from his side and held
out his freedom papers. Christophe snatched them with a smile. He
nearly leaped-frog over the nearest box and dropped on the sofa.
Dragging the glass coffee table to him, he used the pen that Davis
handed him to sign away his life. "What about Elliot? I hear he's
stepping up to the mission? He'll be the next great Montague
Tycoon."

"Haven't heard from the board on his
appointment. They’re still in shock over losing you."

Christophe nodded. He passed the signed
documents back to his attorney. "It's done. Oh, and give my mother
this." He picked up the envelope he had addressed to Stephanie.
Words he never had the courage as a boy to say. Whether she
understood his reasons for cutting her out of his life or not, he
wanted the goodbye he deserved. After this letter, he'd never think
of her again. Next to it was the letter he wrote to Zuri.

Davis stuffed Stephanie’s message into the
inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Have you spoken to her?"

"Mother?"

"Zuri Baptiste."

Christophe followed his line of vision. He
picked up Zuri's letter. He said plenty to Zuri Baptiste, but not
directly. The letter in his hand had been written and rewritten six
times. After her rejection, he poured his soul out to Davis on the
flight back from Martinique. He had to unburden himself. He had
never been so disillusioned. "This letter will say everything left
between us."

"You know your mother scared her."

"It doesn't matter. She made it clear that
she wanted nothing to do with me. Makes me wonder if it was all in
my head. That time with her, was more different than with other
women. Fuck it. It probably was all in my head. What the hell do I
know about love?"

"I've been married for twenty years,
Christophe. I know a little about love. You got it bad for
her."

Christophe smiled. "Maybe. I want to thank
you," he said rising, and extended his hand. Davis shook it and
nodded.

"Where will you go?"

"Can I trust you to keep it
confidential?"

"When have you not been able to trust
me?"

Christophe slapped Davis on his shoulder.
"Got a place I've kept stashed for years. Beautiful cabin by a lake
in a small mountain town called Bethel Ridge. It's in Georgia. I
think I might go there. Get back into my writing, figure the rest
out later. I need a sabbatical."

"If you need anything
more
—
"

"I'm okay." Christophe let go a deep sigh.
"I'm free," he said. He walked Davis out and promised to keep in
contact. Alone again in his loft penthouse, he withdrew the letter
to Zuri from his back pocket of his Bermuda shorts. He wanted to
call her, to tell her again what was in his heart, but he had his
pride. The letter was the goodbye he should have been brave enough
to fight for in Martinique. Tossing it to the top of an open box,
he went in search of his packing tape. He'd drop the letter in the
mail on his way out.

***

Zuri knocked on her father's door. Nanette
was downstairs talking with the cooks. There would be a family
dinner in Claude's honor. Many have stopped by wanting to see him
for weeks; like he was some sideshow freak they had to be able to
say they saw up close. Zuri and Joi ran interference. This dinner
was something her mother said should happen.

"
Père
? Are you up?" she eased the door
open.

Her steps were slow and quiet, and she
entered the rom. He was in his wheel chair, facing the open deck
doors. Her mother said that he could wheel it from their bedroom to
the suite outside of it. He was improving in private, though when
Zuri saw him he looked the same.

"Can I talk with you?" she asked shyly. She
hadn't braved a conversation with him since he opened his eyes. The
day he arrived home, Zuri crept in his room. She wept at his
bedside and begged for his forgiveness. He didn't acknowledge her
at all. She told him the entire story, starting with the night of
her 21st birthday in Chicago. The end of her tale explained her
plans for revenge against Detrick and how she sent Christophe away
to make sure it was done. She hoped that he could take some peace
in knowing that their debts were paid. Though knowing how prideful
he was, she believed he secretly loathed her gift.

"
Mère
says you're feeling better. Are
you?"

He didn't answer.

"
Père
, I understand why you find it
hard to forgive me. I just wanted to tell you that I think I'm
going to go back to the states. I want you to get better. I get the
feeling that the things I've done only disappoint and cause you
pain. I'll visit, and maybe when you're ready we can talk. Really
talk. I love you,
père
,
je t'aime de tout mon
coeur
.
I would do
anything for you. Don't you know that?"

He continued to stare ahead. She wished she
could see his face. Zuri then thought it best she didn't. It would
only hurt more to see him stare blankly at her, as if he didn't
know her. "I'll leave you alone now."

She turned for the door. The urge to cry
grew stronger as she approached.

"Zuri."

She stopped at the raspy sound of her
name.

She turned. Her father had wheeled his chair
from the window and faced her. He looked thinner, older. His face
slacked on the left, and one of his hands racked with tremors as it
rested in his lap. "Forgive me?" he slurred.

"What? Why?"

"My fault," he managed.

"No,
père
. It’s not your
fault."

He cast his eyes down. "I hit you... never
should have... I'm ashamed for it... forgive me."

Zuri went to her father. She stooped before
him shaking her head. "There's nothing to forgive. I just wanted to
know you don't hate me."

Tears welled in her
father's eyes. "
Tu es la joie de ma
vie
," he said, confirming that she was the
joy in his life.

"Do you want me to stay? To
help Joi? I can,
père
, to make sure things are okay. Just tell me what you
want."

His hand lifted with deep
trembles and pressed to the side of her face. "No. Go. Let you
down. Not again. A stubborn fool... my fault... not yours, Zuri.
You do better. Go.
Je
t'aime
.
"

Zuri rose and hugged her father the best she
could. "I should have found another way to help. I feel like I
caused this. That I made it worst."

Claude lifted his stronger
hand to rub her back. "
Mère
says love... you're in love."

Zuri released her father. She blinked at him
through a veil of tears. "Huh?"

"You only did this... out of love. You gave
up your heart... to heal me. Not fair to you... I never wanted
sacrifice... Not from you."

"It doesn't matter. It's over between us.
Look at how we began."

"It does. Don't
lie."
Père
sucked
down a deep breath and tried to speak clearly. "I can't help loving
my girls... the way I do. Outside of your mother... I've never
trusted in family. I've only known pain and suffering... with
family. In Haiti things were tough... but we made a way. I spent
most of my childhood... surviving. When I came to live with the
Lefebvre's... I was given everything... but love. They raised me...
out of duty. They changed my life... but they never loved me. I
said I wouldn't... I wouldn't rule my family that way. I want you
happy.... I trust you, Zuri, to find what it means. You decide...
if he is the one... then tell him."

She nodded. She leaned in
and kissed his cheek. "I will always love you,
père,
most of all.
Always."

"As I will you."

"
Je t'adore père. Moi
aussi je t'aime.
"
Sharing that she adored him, was the greatest
expression of love she could.

***

One Week Later -

"You done packing?" Joi
said from the door, her hair a riot of curls with bright blue
streaks. She was dressed in a blue halter with tight jean shorts.
Zuri shook her head at her sister's attire.
Was that what she was wearing for their flight back to
Chicago?
Glancing down to her plain purple
sundress and thong sandals. She wouldn't dare fly to the states
dressed as she was. "If we're going to make our flight we need to
leave for Forte de France soon," Joi insisted.

"In a minute." Zuri drew the zipper across
the suitcase.

Her purse hit the floor and spilled over.
Zuri cursed.

"Hurry up," Joi sighed, walking out.

Zuri dropped to her knees and picked up the
items that spilled from her purse. She reached under the bed for a
tube of lipstick. When it rolled away, she pressed her face to the
floor and stretched her arm to reach for it. That's when she saw
her cell phone. Surprised, she grabbed it instead. Zuri sat back on
her legs. The battery was dead. "Here you are. I must have dropped
you from the bed." She rose from her kneeling position and rushed
into the bathroom. She dug in the drawer for the charger and
plugged it in.

"Zuri?"

"In here,
mère
—
"

"Are you done packing? Joi is quite
frustrated."

"Oh tell her to relax. We have plenty of
time," Zuri sighed.

Mère
stood in the door of the bathroom. She held a letter. "This
came for you today." Zuri accepted the envelope. There was no
return address on it. "
Merci
."

Nanette smiled. "I'll send Francois to
collect your things. Joi has already loaded her things. I'm making
her change clothes. She won't be travelling with you dressed that
way. What is she thinking!"

Zuri nodded as her mother began to fuss in
French and walk out of her room. She dropped on the sink, staring
at the envelope. The handwriting, it's mystery; she had to wonder
if it was from Christophe. Slowly she opened the letter and
hurriedly withdrew a single sheet of paper.

Zuri,

Comment vas-tu?
I hear your father is well.
I debated over this letter. First whether to write it, then
whether to mail it. Not many people put their feelings on paper,
but an email wouldn't do. Not for us. I decided if I was to move on
then that meant I had to find a way to say the things I couldn't
the last I saw you.

I know we only knew each other a short time.
And I know that you made no promises to me. Still, I can't help but
feel that we were robbed of something special. I share some of the
blame in this. From the beginning, you were something special and I
could only express it when you shared my bed. What else were you to
believe? Forgive me, Zuri, but I find it hard to believe that I
meant nothing to you. I discovered the woman you were on an ancient
rock and in a hot spring. It's where you healed me. Maybe it wasn't
love, but it was the beginning of something special.