Authors: Amelia Grace
‘Did you ever see him again Georgia?’ I asked, my voice
quiet. She turned her head to me slowly, and shook her head with minimal movement.
‘No,’ she answered, and then brushed a tear away.
‘What now?’ I asked nervously. I sensed my time with Georgia was very limited.
She looked down at the closed book, and ran her fingers over the stamped leather word.
‘I really don’t know. Perhaps I must give it to you now? This book is a one of a kind. I had never come across a book like this ever.’ Georgia looked up at me, her eyes were very serious. She leaned forward and put her head on my shoulder. I didn’t know what to say to her. I only knew that my heart felt tight. I didn’t want to say goodbye to her. I sucked in a deep breath.
‘Breakfast time Georgia,’ I said, trying to sound positive.
I stood and offered my hands to help her off the ground. She took them, and when she stood she drew me close.
‘The book belongs to you now. You are the Keeper of the Book.’ Her voice was a whisper, her eyes penetrating mine as she moved her face closer,
slowly, looking at my lips.
As our lips touched slightly, a warmth entered my body, an addictive high of emotions. Our kiss was gentle, her soft lips caressing mine, and then I pulled away.
I placed my hand softly at the side of her face as I pulled her lips back to mine, kissing her again, deeply, letting my heart connect to hers. She pulled away after a short while and looked into my eyes.
‘Say it!’ she said, ‘Say it Cohen.’
The intensity of her eyes were burning into mine.
‘I am the Keeper of the Book.’ I said it. Did it mean the end of Georgia and I? The handing over of the bloody book? The kiss to seal the deal? What had I done?
I stepped back from her and ran my hand through my hair, confused. I was neither here nor there. Was I in some sort of a relationship or not? She was calling all of the shots. I wish I could read her mind!
‘Tea for two and breakfast Georgia,’ I said to her, and took her hand in mine as we walked, in silence, the sky clouding over
, threatening rain on our journey to our first meeting place. And perhaps the last meeting place. My heart started to ache.
Bloody book!
Chapter 13
The clanging of the doorbell heralded our arrival at Oooh Laaa La! Cafe. Immediately I inhaled the welcoming aroma of coffee, and delicious products from the bakery.
Georgia sat at the table for two by the quaint window facing a small courtyard, while I ordered tea for two, a gingerbread man, and an enormous cupcake decorated with pink flowers.
The bouquet of roses that I had given her lay across our table, Georgia stroking the soft pink petals absent mindedly.
‘Penny for your thoughts Miss Harrison,’ I said quietly to her as I sat in the opposite chair. She smiled shyly and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes again her smile was gone.
‘I feel so lost Cohen, so empty now that the book has been read,’ she commented softly.
‘Separation anxiety?’ I suggested to her.
She looked out the window, her eyes sad.
‘Perhaps......but is it from the book, or you?’ she replied.
‘It doesn’t have to be both....does it?’ I questioned. I had no idea of the protocol that apparently came with the bloody book.
‘The rules are clear. He who hears the book then becomes the Book Keeper,
who you shall see no more,’ Georgia whispered as if tempting misfortune.
I put my hand over hers and looked into her beautiful blue eyes.
‘Rules are meant to be broken,’ I suggested, panic spreading through my blood.
Our tea for two arrived
with the edibles. Georgia looked at the cupcake and smiled.
‘More flowers for you Miss Harrison,’ I said smiling coyly at her as I poured the cups of tea.
‘Thank-you,’ she mouthed to me, her head slightly to the side, melting my heart, my heart that was breaking.
I broke off a bit of my gingerbread man and put it into
her mouth.
‘
You are the Gingerbread Taster.....Georgia,’ I said, my voice low, looking into her eyes.
She chewed slowly, rolling her eyes in delight, and then smiled, lighting up the room.
I took her hand in mine and kissed her knuckles, smiling against her warm skin.
Silence descended upon us then, as we sipped our tea and ate
. A tear trickled down Georgia’s face. She wiped it away with a rose petal. I blinked away my own tears. It was time for me to go. But I could not endure the torture of goodbye yet.
‘Dinner, and a movie tonight Georgia....to celebrate.’ Then I stood, and bowed to her before I left her at the table, the clanging doorbell announcing my departure.
I shoved the bloody book under my arm and my hands into my pockets as I trekked back to my apartment. The dark clouds hung in the sky, ominous.
Upon entering my apartment, I placed the bloody book in the study room on the book shelf. It belonged there. It was with its own. Then I took out
Tim Jennings to email Georgia.
FROM: The Keeper of the Book
SUBJECT: Evening twilight
DATE: May 19 2011 11:11
TO: Georgia Harrison
Dear Georgia,
I will come to pick you up when it is neither daytime nor night time. Dinner followed by a movie. Flick me your address please.
Cohen #ireallyhatesayinggoodbyetothegingerbreadmanmaker
Send....
FROM: The Ex-Book Keeper
SUBJECT: The Gingerbread Man’s Address
DATE: May 19 201
1 11:13
TO: Tim Jennings
Dear Tim,
Twilight is such an amazing time of day. A connection to peacefulness.
From Ooooh Laaa La Cafe – follow the Gingerbread Men with hearts.
I will await eagerly for your knock on the door in the rhythm of the Gingerbread Man chant.
Georgia #ithinkthatiwanttobreaktherules
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.
I know that I want to break the rules!
But, I knew that we would never be together. The desires of my heart would never be fulfilled – emotionally, or physically. The Mind Reading Implant would see to that.
Five hours stood in the way of seeing Georgia again today. The sport on television held no interest for me today. My mind felt agitated, hungry even, needing to be filled with knowledge. But of what?
A gentle cool breeze flowed through from the study room. I entered the room to close the window. I was sure that it would start raining soon.
Once I had closed the window I could feel it pulling me towards it.
The bloody book!
I turned around aggressively and looked at it shaking my head. I did not want to engage with the bloody book again. I had given the bloody book to the bookshelf. It was now the Book Keeper!
I ran my hand through my hair. Frustration dripped from my face like melting wax from a candle. BLOODY BOOK! I walked over to it and reefed it off the shelf, and walked out of the study room with heavy feet like an immature child expressing my huge dislike.
An echo bounced off the wall as I placed the bloody book onto the kitchen table with a thud. Inflicting a little pain onto the bloody book made me feel a little better. Maybe I should punch into it to feel a whole lot better? Mmm...tempting.
I took a deep breath. I was the Keeper of the Bloody Book now. I was the Keeper....
The raised
surface of the insignia felt warm, hot even, while the rest of the leather cover was cool. Very odd. Underneath the three interconnecting circles were some words – latin I think. It said ‘Mutato nomine de te fibula narrator’. I had no idea what it meant. I will Google it later.
Inside the leather
cover was white, inkless paper. So perfect in its hue that it hurt my eyes if I looked at it for too long. I squinted to keep up the eye contact. I turned the pages. They were all exactly the same, white, inkless, perfect. There were no indentations, as if someone had written in it like when I found it and gave it to Georgia.
I lifted the bloody book to my nose. An old musty odour
spoke of it’s age, mixed with Georgia’s sweet rose perfume. I shuffled through the pages again – inkless.
Where did Georgia read from? And why couldn’t I see it?
I raised my eyebrows. What do I do with the bloody book now? Do I start to write in it? Do I leave it on the shelf for a century or three? And, what is the purpose of the bloody book anyway?
Bloody book! Nothing but trouble from the moment it invaded my life without an invitation. I ran my hand through my
hair, and left the bloody book alone on the table. Watching sports on television seemed like an awesome idea after all. At least it was a mindless pursuit that didn’t challenge my intelligence too dramatically! And it wasn’t something mysterious that science could not explain, until of course my evening with Georgia. Now there is something that is mysterious and cannot be fully explained either – Women!
I dressed in my black pants and a long sleeved white cotton shirt, rolled up to just below my elbows. Georgia hasn’t seen me dressed this way – a little b
it fancy, a bit upmarket. It was the perfect way to dress to celebrate our short time together.
The dark grey clouds hung heavily in the sky as I walked to the O
oooh Laaa La! Cafe to find the first gingerbread man. And there he was, attached to a street light post, gingery in colour with a red heart with a C in the middle of the red heart. I smiled. Georgia knew how to make me feel happy, and, in love. But I could never tell her. There was no future for us.
I followed the seven gingerbread men to her residence. It was a modern establishment with high security. The last gingerbread man had a number on his heart ‘789’. I pushed the corresponding button on the intercom.
‘Cohen, you’re here,’ Georgia exclaimed excitedly. There must be security cameras as well. ‘Come through, seventh floor, number eighty-nine. See you soon,’ she said.
My heart started to do a dance. I put my hand over my heart and patted my chest. Calm down, calm down I told myself as I entered the building
. The elevator rose to the seventh floor very smoothly, with speed. I exited and then strolled down the fresh smelling corridor until I came to door number eighty-nine, the gold numbers were highly polished. I breathed in deeply as I knocked on the door with our secret code from the gingerbread man story.
The blood drained from my face when my eyes met with Georgia as soon as she opened the door. She was so beautiful. She wore a spaghetti strap black fitted dress that ended just above her shapely knees. The black high heeled shoes matched perfectly, enhancing her lovely ankles. She wore a soft blue shawl,
draped over her shoulders and around her upper arms. The tightness of the black dress revealed a nice portion of her cleavage. It was very satisfying to say the least.
Her wayward brown wavy tendrils were controlled in an updo, and long pieces of hair framing her face
. Her eyes were capturing, soaking me in as I was her.
‘Cohen,’ she whispered to me, smiling shyly. I returned her smile with a shy smile of my own. Perhaps I should not have come here. She is very tempting. I want to kiss her, hold her, keep her.
‘You look beautiful Miss Harrison,’ I said, trying not to sound nervous. Which I was...very. How does a beautiful woman do that to you?
‘Thank-you Cohen,’ she responded, looking down. Surely she must know how desirable she is?
‘Shall we go. I have a dinner reservation that I must attend with someone important in my life,’ I added to break the uncomfortable silence between us.
‘I hope that she or he.... is nice?’ she responded, playing along with my words.
‘
She
..... is nicer than I could ever have imagined,’ I said, looking deeply into her eyes. If I just had the courage to move closer and lightly place my lips onto hers......
‘Let’s go then Mr Darcy. I am dying to meet her,’ she said, pulled the door closed behind her, and put her arm through mine walking closely to me as we walked to the elevator. Her sweet rose perfume was intoxicating to me tonight. I must remind myself not to inhale it too deeply, lest it weakens my self control with her.
The doors of the elevator glided open, and we stepped inside. Thank goodness there were others in the elevator with us, how would I cope if we were the only two in the small confined space?
She stood closely to me, leaning against me slightly. She removed her arm from mine and then ra
n her hand up to the back of my neck, where she lightly ran her fingers over my skin. I tingled all over.