The Mermaid Garden(137)
“But you did.”
“Yes, and you were right. There are always two sides to every story. She isn’t a wicked stepmother after all, so I shan’t call her Submarine ever again.” She dropped her gaze and rubbed Biscuit’s stomach. “I think I understand a little more about love.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Love is like a bright light that burns away all negativity. You know, like sunshine on mist. I felt my heart open when I listened to Marina, and all the heavy, unhappy fog simply evaporated. It was extraordinary. So, it got me thinking: happy people are full of love; unhappy people have very little, perhaps none at all. That’s all there is to the world—those who love and those who don’t. It’s really very simple. If everyone loved there’d be no wars. Everyone would live in peace.”
“I think you should run for prime minister.”
She laughed. “But how do you teach people about love?”
“There have been many teachers, like Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, Gandhi, to name but a few. Now we can add Clementine Turner to the list.”
She watched him sketch, his hand moving confidently across the paper, and thought how attractive it was to be so talented. “Rafa, have you ever been in love?”
“I’ve been in love many times,” he said, grinning at her. “There’s a very big difference between being ‘in love’ and ‘loving.’ ‘In love’ is infatuation. Loving begins when the infatuation passes and you really know the person. Otherwise, how can you love them if you don’t know them?”
“So, have you ever loved?”
“Once.”
“What was she like?”
He thought for a moment. “She was very sweet.”
“Blond, brunette?”
“Brunette.”
“What happened?”
“I wasn’t ready to commit.”
“Did she want to marry you?”
He shrugged. “She was Argentine: that’s all she thought about.”
“Did that put you off?”
“Not really, but I was restless. The timing was wrong.”
“So what happened?”
“She finished with me, found someone else, and married him.”
“Were you very sad?”
“Of course, but what could I do?”
“Do you ever think about her?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you regret that you never married her?”
“Never.”
“Do you keep in touch?”
“No.” He narrowed his eyes and his lips curled at one corner. “Any more questions, or is the inquisition over?”
“You’re very shady.”
“Shady?”
“Yes, you don’t give away much about yourself. Sure, you talk about your parents and Argentina, but you don’t talk about you.”
He sighed dramatically. “All right. I’m a spy working undercover for the Argentine government. But that is all I can tell you; otherwise, I have to kill you.”
She stared at him pensively. He looked steadily back at her. For a moment neither spoke. Everything stilled. The sun finally dipped behind the trees, leaving them in shadow. They both felt the energy build between them. But Clementine was used to the warm feeling of desire and the anticipation of the kiss that never came. It took all her willpower to tear her eyes away. “Are you nearly done now?” she asked, breaking the spell. “I’m getting rather stiff.”
“The light has changed.”
“Shall we go in?”
He sighed regretfully. “If you want to.”
She got to her feet. Biscuit rolled over and stretched. She could feel Rafa’s disappointment as the energy drained away and the wind picked up.
“Can I see it?”
Rafa handed her the sketchbook. She looked at his picture and gasped in surprise. The girl in the golden light was beautiful. He gathered his paints and crayons and stood up. “Do I really look like that?” she asked, staring at it.
“You do to me, Clementine.”
She frowned at him, wondering why, if he saw her like that, he didn’t take her in his arms and kiss her. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Yes, you do,” he replied.
“Thank you.” She handed back the book. “Are you coming in?”
“In a minute. I want to make a telephone call.”
“Good night, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Clementine marched up the lawn with Biscuit. She could feel Rafa’s eyes on her back, but she didn’t turn around. It had taken as much will as she could muster to walk away; she wouldn’t have enough to do it a second time.
Rafa watched her disappear around the hotel, a frown rumpling his brow. He felt dissatisfied. He didn’t know how much longer he could continue like this. Clementine was beginning to consume him. Whenever he tried to think of something else, she popped back into his head. He thought he could control his feelings, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he could not.