The Perfect Happiness(102)
“I’ll try.”
“Think positively. You won’t help them by worrying about them. But you can help them by sending them positive thoughts of light and love.”
“Then that is what I’ll try to do.”
“Good night. It’s an early rise tomorrow, with the sun. You don’t mind if I knock on your door to wake you?”
“Not at all. I want to join in. I’ve never picked grapes before.”
“Sleep well, then—and enjoy the stars from my little pagoda.” She smiled at her husband, a smile so loving that Angelica was left more confused than ever.
She walked down the garden with Jack and his dogs, cradling the cup of peppermint tea that Anxious had brought her. A bright moon threw long shadows across the lawn from behind the pine trees. Frogs croaked loudly from the lily pads, and crickets chirruped in the grass. The air was infused with the aromatic scent of damp soil and the heady perfume of gardenia and rose. They walked across the stepping-stones to the pretty white pagoda. In the center was Anna’s meditation mat. Around the edge was a sofa and four big, comfortable armchairs in navy and white ticking. They sat together on the sofa, and Angelica slipped off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her. Jack lay back, stretched out his long legs, and threw an arm behind Angelica, pulling her close.
“You get all your ideas from Anna, don’t you?”
He feigned ignorance. “What ideas?”
“Existential ones. Don’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about. Either that or she’s got her ideas from you.”
“Okay, so she’s taught me a lot about life.”
“I thought it was something special that we shared.”
“It is.”
“Well, not exclusively.”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.”
“I’m just as wise.”
She sighed. “None of us is as wise as Anna.”
“You’re ten years younger than her. When you’re her age, you’ll be just as wise.”
“I don’t know. She was born wise, I suspect. Some people are. I’m just on a search.”
“We’re searching together. Don’t forget Somebody Braai—In Search of the Perfect Happiness. Our groundbreaking work in progress.”
“So what shall our first chapter be about?”
“The happiness of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts.” He kissed her hairline. “When I think about you, I’m happy.”
She took his hand and wrapped it around hers. “When I think about you, I’m happy, too.”
They watched the stars twinkling above the shadowy silhouette of the mountains, discussing their book with zeal. The dogs lay on Anna’s mat, lulled to sleep by the low monotone of their voices and the warm night air. When they retreated inside to go to bed, they crept up the stairs like schoolchildren returning from a midnight adventure. Jack followed her into her bedroom and pressed her against the back of the door to kiss her. He didn’t attempt to do anything more than that.
“You need to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”
“I wish we could curl up in bed together,” she whispered.
“So do I. But you wouldn’t get much sleep.”
“I want you to make love to me again.”
“I will.” He kissed her nose. “But not tonight.”
“It should be enough just to be near you. But it isn’t.”
His smile was so tender, her stomach seemed to flip over. “Just one more kiss, then I have to release you.”
Once Jack had gone, she undressed and brushed her teeth, humming contentedly. She resolved not to think about Monday. After all, it wasn’t the end of the affair, just the end of the weekend. There would be many more. Their love would grow, and they’d cross the world to be together.
She slipped on her nightdress, feeling the sensual pleasure of the silk against her skin, and wished Jack was waiting for her in her bed, his arms outstretched. She went over to the window, where a sugary breeze swept gently through the gap between the curtains. She pulled them aside and leaned on the sill. The valley had a romantic allure, set in shadow beneath a luminous navy sky, glittering with stars. She listened to the crickets, the distant croaking of frogs, the secret scurrying of nocturnal creatures hiding in the undergrowth. Then she saw a figure lit up in the moonlight, walking across the lawn. It was Jack. She caught her breath. Where on earth was he going at this time of night, and why hadn’t he asked her to go with him? He was alone, but for one of his dogs, who trotted along beside him. It was a strange time to walk the dog. She went to bed feeling uneasy.
It seemed like the middle of the night when Anna knocked on her door to wake her. She mumbled something incoherent and opened her heavy eyes. It was still dark. Reluctantly, she got up and staggered over to open the curtains. The lawn was haunted by the memory of Jack walking across it during the night, and she felt her insides twist with anxiety. Now a light mist hung in the valley, replacing the luminous night. The air was cool, dogs barked in the distance, the chatter of guinea fowl added to the dawn chorus. She sensed the vineyard stirring to life with the smoke wafting up from the laborers’ cottages. She dressed hastily and made her way downstairs, where Anxious had prepared a light breakfast on the terrace. She found Jack at the table. He didn’t mention his nocturnal adventure, so she didn’t, either, but she was relieved to find him in a happy mood. She dismissed her fears; there was nothing wrong with a man walking across his own lawn in the middle of the night if he felt so inspired. Perhaps he couldn’t sleep. They ate quickly and headed out to the farm buildings as the first rays of dawn bled into the sky.