Leaves crunch, and then she is beside him. Gemma reaches out and takes his hand with hers. The wind picks up and ruffles their hair. Phillipe closes his eyes as he picturesherbeside him instead.
“I wanted to paint you. You told me I could, so I brought you back here. That was the day you went away.”
I hold Phillipe’s hand, trying to extend my sympathies. I try to show that he can trust me as he talks to a woman who is no longer here. In that moment, as the wind picks up and swirls around us, I look out across the water to the opposite bank and focus on a shadow. No, maybe it’s a figure. It stands there, looking back at us. It’s quietly judging, quietly watching.
Shaking my head, I turn to see Phillipe has his eyes closed. I don’t understand much of what has happened to me in the past few days, but one thing I know for certain is that he is still with her andsheis still with him.
And me? Well, I’m caught somewhere in between.
Nineteen
RHAPSODY
Day 17
ADAGIO FOR STRINGSis a piece I am familiar with. I remember hearing it once on a 9/11 tribute, and ever since, it has moved me. Today, it moves me for different reasons.
During that evening by the river, we agreed to a few days of respite before making our way back to the chateau in complete silence. I lie in my bed, unable to sleep for the rest of the night.
Time doesn’t stand still, though, and it is slowly creeping by. No matter how painful it might be, we need to move forward.
I make my way into the studio in the morning to see Phillipe over by the window. That’s when I hear the weeping sounds of the violin. He turns, and as our eyes meet, the expression I receive is pained and tired. It’s almost the exact replica of mine.
“I want you to paint me,” I tell him as I step closer.
I’ve thought about this for the last few days. Running it through my mind, I have tried to figure out the best way to connect with him. Obviously, it isn’t by talking things out face to face, and it occurs to me that the most I have ever gotten out of him is when he’s painting me.
“Why?” he asks, shaking me from my thoughts.
As he moves closer, I notice that he’s dressed today in the usual black pants with my favorite hunter-green sweater, and he looks devastating.
I find myself talking, just for something to do. “I think it gives me a better idea of who she was. This isn’t a question of my trusting you anymore. It’s to help me understand how you saw her.”
When he stops in front of me, I look up into his troubled eyes. “Ineedto understand, Phillipe.”
Tilting his head to the side as though he’s studying me, he nods once.
“Okay. Then we startRhapsodytoday.”
Immediately, I picture the image in my mind. I have been captivated by it since my first day here in the chateau. “This music is beautiful. Did she have a favorite?” I murmur.
He brushes by me and makes his way to the stereo, abruptly ending the melancholy piece.
“Yes, she did,” he says, crouching down to remove the violin case. Looking over his shoulder, he reminds me softly, “You have to be naked, Gemma, so please take off your clothes.”
Swallowing my next question, I nod and start to unbutton my long-sleeved ivory blouse. Tugging it out of my pants, I keep my eyes on him as he places the case on the desk.
The silence is starting to become suffocating, so I ask, “What piece was her favorite?”
He unlocks the latches of the case. I already know he isn’t going to tell me. When he picks up Diva from her resting place, I try to remind myself that he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
After removing my pants, I’m left in my bra and panties. I reach back and unsnap my bra hooks as he walks toward me with the violin in his hand. Keeping my eyes on him, I remove the lacy fabric from my aching breasts, and as the cool air hits my skin, I feel my nipples harden. I drop the bra on the floor.
“Turn around,” he instructs me.
His voice is so somber that I swear I can feel it stealing a part of me, saddening my heart. I turn away from him.
“Remove your panties.”
