“It is my home. But without you it will be soulless.”
“Let’s not think about that now.”
“I’m selfish, Ava. I want you for myself. Exclusively. I want to marry you, have armfuls of children to run up and down the vines as I did. Just think what we can do to the gardens of Les Lucioles. With our magic we can make it the most beautiful château in France.”
“Your mother has already done that.”
“We will reach even greater heights. Don’t you see what a combination we are?”
“Yes. But I am married and I already have children to run around the gardens here. We cannot change what is past; we can only live in the moment. It’s all we have.”
“Do you still sleep with Phillip?” His question caught her off guard.
She stiffened. She didn’t want to lie to him, but neither did she want to hurt him. “Please don’t ask me.”
“Don’t I have a right to know?”
“What difference would it make?”
“Peace of mind.”
“It changes nothing between us.”
“I want you to belong to me.”
“I never will, my darling. I will always be married to Phillip.”
“I could bear it if you were his wife in name only.”
“Isn’t love more important than ownership? Isn’t it enough to know that I love you body and soul?”
He kissed her forehead. “It should be.”
“It must be. It is all I can give you.”
At that moment the clouds parted and the sun beamed through like a torch from Heaven. They walked hand in hand into the rain to watch as a vibrant rainbow straddled the valley. The colors were glorious, from deep red to pale purple.
“That is what we have,” said Jean-Paul.
“And look how beautiful it is.”
He swung her into his arms and kissed her. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m so frightened I will lose you.”
“Don’t…”
“Promise me that you will come to me when your children are grown up and no longer need you?”
“I can’t promise.”
“Yes, you can. If you love me you will be here when I come back to get you. Your children will be grown up. Phillip will be an old man. You will be free.”
“But you will marry and have children of your own.”
“I will never love another.”
“You can’t put your life on hold for me. I love you, but I’m realistic enough to know that life will part us. Like that rainbow, the rain will take us.”
“It will not take our love. I will love you forever.”
She took his damp face in her hands and gazed at him lovingly. “You won’t want me when I’m an old woman. You will still be young and handsome.”
“My heart will always belong to you.”
“You’re too idealistic. Life isn’t like that.”
“Just promise me.”
“Okay. I promise you. When the children no longer need me. When Phillip is an old man. When I’m free, you can come back and get me.”
He hugged her fiercely. “Now I can breathe again, because whatever happens I have something to look forward to.” Ava leaned against him, certain that one day he’d give his heart to another woman, raise his own children at Les Lucioles and forget the promise they had made.
She stared at the rainbow, willing it to last. “Can you see pink between the green and the blue?”
“You tease me. There is no pink there. It is next to red, no?”
“Look harder.”
“I’m looking as hard as I can.”
“That is not hard enough.”
“I don’t believe it exists.”
“Of course it does. I can see it. My eyes don’t lie.”
“Then you have a sense that I lack.”
“Look, the rain has stopped.”
“We will lose the rainbow.”
“But we have one of our own, right here, inside us.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “It’ll last as long as we want it to.”
In August the weather was hot and dry. The children played with Toddy’s twins and other friends from school who joined their pack and roamed the gardens like excitable dogs. Toddy noticed Ava’s radiance but didn’t imagine for a moment it was because of Jean-Paul. Ava wasn’t the sort to have an affair. Her marriage to Phillip was the strongest she knew. She watched her friend walk with a bounce in her step, a grin that remained even when her face was in repose and a bubbling laugh that came from deep inside her, like a secret underground spring. She envied Ava’s inner contentment. Her life was like a gentle summer breeze.
Phillip congratulated himself on having taken her to France. Ever since that short break Ava had been transformed. He cursed his book, the fact that it took him away from her. Yet, the sound of her voice singing in the bushes outside, humming in the hall as she arranged flowers, playing in the garden with their children, filled him with joy. They held weekend house parties, cramming the house with friends from London: writers, historians, journalists and painters. Mrs. Marley’s eyes bulged at the names, having seen them in the papers or heard them on the radio. They stayed up late at night, the men smoking cigars and drinking port, the women chatting in the drawing room, gossiping about their husbands. They were an older crowd of Phillip’s friends, but Ava found them stimulating. Phillip knew that she sneaked off to be alone. He loved that about her—one moment vivacious, the next as solitary as a sandpiper. He never suspected that she took herself off to the little cottage to make love to Jean-Paul. He was confident of her devotion.