Blue on Blue

Chapter 1

The room was large and sunny with two bay windows that looked out to the back yard which bordered onto the green space beyond that was filled with maples, elms and honeysuckle, all lush early spring green.  Purple and sage fabric draped the windows and pooled gently onto the floor, making the 14-feet ceilings seem even higher.  There were two sofas with plump white cushions angled toward each other, with a glass coffee table in-between.  The bases of the end table lamps were spindles shaped like waves, and copper planters in front of the windows were filled with Peace Lilies and Lavender.

Bernard escorted Emilie into the room, gesturing, “This is the great room.  My sister-in-law did the paintings.  This is her version of a Matisse with gold fish and this one, ‘Woman with Child’ reminds me of a Picasso.  The colors were rich, with turquoise and orange, deep blues and reds, both paintings lively and cheerful.  As they walked over to the sofa, Emilie felt her heart flutter.  Bernard’s hair was deep black, with ringlets just where his hair touched his collar.  He had Mediterranean skin, and the stubble of his end-of-day beard made him irresistible.  About 5’10”, he had the build of and grace of a tennis player.  As he settled in, he faced her, his arm resting on the back the sofa. 

Emilie was petite, with wispy reddish hair.  While Bernard’s skin was olive, hers was peach, and the faint blush of her cheeks deepened as she spoke.  She found herself talking in a quiet voice, like speaking through sighs, almost holding her breath as they shared stories about simple things.  As she leaned into the multi-colored throw pillows and casually put one onto her lap, she felt his gaze and lost her train of thought.  “Oh my, what was I saying?”  He reached over and touched her hair lightly...”how your daughter says you don’t listen very well.”  They both laughed.  “I find there is so much going on in my mind, what I am thinking makes it hard to even hear myself speak...let alone anyone else!  It’s embarrassing.”  As she spoke, Emilie was conscious of Bernard’s hand resting next to hers and the shape of his lips, and how she loved his laugh.  When he smiled, a dimple appeared in his right cheek, his brown eyes serious yet playful.  She was drawn into his stories and her mind transformed them into scenes...He entered stage right, she approached and looked out, casting her eyes right to left, as if lost. Does everyone do this? she wondered. 

In his mid-forties, Bernard had lost his wife a few years ago.  When diagnosed with cancer, she had been given hard choices...treatment to slow its progress accompanied by nausea, hair loss, aging skin or no treatment which would shorten her time, yet give her an almost normal quality of life.  With young children, Elana, now 11 and Dylan, now 9, she decided on no treatment. They had spoken of his wife before now, but only lightly.  This was the first time he had described his wife’s last 6 months.  Eventually, the cancer filled her lungs making it hard for her to breathe. Emergency trips to the hospital meant using a syringe to withdraw fluid from her lungs. Tumors on her chest bled onto her nightgowns. She was brave, but it was a brutal death.

“What a heartbreaking choice to make,” Emilie whispered, her eyes moist with emotion.  “How did you feel...was it the right choice?”  She could barely imagine his loss, how his children must miss her, how selfish it was for her to be there...wanting to hold him and take away all that sadness, take his wife’s place. Oh my goodness, she thought, did I really think that...take her place? She fought the temptation to fast-forward into the future.  “I wanted her to take treatments... but she wanted the children to remember her as she was...happy and loving, well enough to enjoy being with them.  She didn’t think she could do that dealing with radiation and chemo.”  He looked away.  Emilie watched him closely, waiting. “Once she made her choice, she made peace with it.” 

Emilie thought of how different her own mother’s choice had been.  She had continued her breast cancer treatments for almost five years after it was diagnosed, even when doctors had said there was no use.  She had thought she would live to be 100.  She was 82, and Emilie had witnessed her death moans, administered the morphine, and sang to her at the end, but couldn’t make herself take her mother’s hand. She couldn’t distinguish if the tears that welled in her eyes were for Bernard’s wife, her own mother’s death, or the shame in not reaching out in those last moments. Would I ever share this with him? What would he think of me?  Maybe there are secrets about ourselves we will never share. We live with each other as illusions, versions of the truth.  “Between giving in to it and making a fight, there must be a middle road that makes sense,” she said softly.  This conversation, views on life and death, the role we play in caring for others, these were too heavy to take on today.  They would wait for another time, she thought.  She felt her heart beating.  He was close enough to kiss her.

Bernard looked at Emilie.  Was he talking too much about the past?  Would this conversation about his wife scare her off?  His wife’s cancer had taken center stage in their lives, and he missed having a woman in his life.  He yearned to touch her face, feel the fullness of her naked breasts against him.  He liked that she was a university professor. She had been divorced for three years and was raising her 6-year old daughter, Corrina alone.  He liked her energy and optimism and found he enjoyed even the silences between them.  She was very different from his wife who had always been a stay-at-home Mom, attending to the details of the household and inviting friends for dinner on Friday nights or arranging play-dates for the kids. He found it better to remember the earlier times, when she was healthy.

Several weeks ago, Emilie gave in to her friends who had urged her to try dating.  Finding someone on the Internet seemed so pathetic, and she really didn’t know if she was ready to have a relationship again.  But she was also afraid that was so ready that anyone who showed any interest in her might draw her in.  Bernard’s profile caught her attention.  Widowed, with two young children, he was looking for a long-term relationship, not casual dating.  Emilie loved being a mother, and she sensed this was a family who might need her.  Bernard, with his global experience and role as a business consultant, was very appealing.  He was smart, strategic, charming... confident...all qualities she admired. 

They had talked on the phone and emailed, but their first meeting was at her home.  She had prepared Cory, “His name rhymes with ‘yard’....BerNARD.”  Cory had sat quietly on her Mom’s lap.  “I like to draw,” she explained.  Bernard had asked to see her pictures, and she brought out several water colors.  “This one is called ‘Hundred Hundred.’” He chatted about the colors and shapes of the... “fish, are they?”  He found her darling with her curly blonde locks and talked to her in a gentle voice with a touch of amusement.  “They’re not lost,” Cory explained solemnly.  After this visit, he had then taken a 10-day trip to India, and today he planned to introduce Emilie to his children, Elana and Nico. That means something, she thought, feeling nervous, but it’s like being on a job interview.

Just then, a car pulled into the drive. Lisa and the children burst into the house.  Eliana and Niko spent much of their time with their Aunt Lisa, who had taken on the role of Mother-Aunt. Lisa was 2 years older than her sister and had happily taken on attending the children’s school events, planning their birthday parties, and often appeared on a Friday night unannounced with a bottle of wine and a home-cooked meal. Bernard vaguely sensed her interest in him, but dismissed her long hugs as sisterly and focused on what he did value...continuity for his children and easy companionship.

Flushed and ready to embrace her brother-in-law, she stopped short and took in the scene.  She had walked in on an intimate moment. Bernard was leaning in toward a woman on the sofa. Both were smiling.  Had they just kissed?  They looked guilty of something.  Bernard reached for Emilie’s hand as they both got up to greet the family.  “This is Emilie,” Bernard said cheerfully and embraced the children, turning toward Emilie, “and this is my daughter Eliana and my son Niko!  Oh, and of course, my sister-in-law, Lisa.”  Lisa chaffed at “sister-in-law.”  Will he always define me in terms of my sister?  She felt pangs of jealousy and disappointment. “Emilie,” she said crisply.  “I haven’t heard very much about you except that you work a lot and are very busy with your own daughter.”   Emile looked at Bernard to gauge his reaction. He was already busy chatting with the kids, and did not notice the cool reception.  I see, thought Emilie, she is not ready to have another woman in this family’s life.  She suddenly felt self-conscious and defensive. “Bernard says you have been a great help with Eliana and Niko.”  “I have been their second mother since my sister died,” Lisa declared firmly. 

Bernard jumped in, “Well, thanks for dropping the kids off, Lisa. Emilie and I have plans with the kids for the weekend, so we’ll touch bases some time next week.”  Lisa bristled.  She had been planning a romantic evening to welcome Bernard home from his trip to India, and this relationship with Emilie was clearly moving too fast.  “Sure...and you’ll have to tell me everything about your trip,” she said with a strained cheerfulness as she leaned over to give him a hug.  He stepped away as she reached in, and she awkwardly hugged his arm instead.  “Oh, I have a gift for you, a vase I picked up in one of the markets in Mumbai.”  He walked to the table by the front door where it was placed, opened the door and handed the vase to her.  Lisa understood she was being dismissed.

As the door closed, Lisa heard Bernard say, “Let’s go to pick up Cory at the babysitter’s, and then go out to dinner.  How does that sound?”  Eliana eyed Emilie... “We usually spend Friday night alone with our Dad.”  “I know...I am usually alone with Cory, too.  Do you like to bake cookies?”  Emilie looked into Eliana’s eyes.  “Sure...chocolate chips are my favorite.”  “Well, maybe we can bake cookies after dinner. She turned to Bernard.  “Would that be OK?” “Sure, if you will dance with me.”  He reached out, took her hand and slipped his other around her waist drawing her near. His heart was aching remembering the feel of family, what it was like to hold a woman in his arms.  He hummed and twirled her about while the children tried to ignore them.

Dylan grabbed an apple and asked if he should bring one for Corinna too.   I wish he would hold me like this every day, Emilie thought, and that this could be the beginning of “happily ever after.”  There’s much more to tell, but it was….almost.