Desire Love and Passion

chapter 14



By mid-November, Willow had lost two kilos since the last weigh-in. The doctor assured them that she was perfectly healthy although James was skeptical. Though they were no closer to being a couple again, they remained amicable. James had in fact become quite the fixture at her grandmother’s house. He was allowed to stay nights, though he opted for the seclusion of the guest house across the lawn whenever he took her up on the offer.

Today was their third doctor's visit. The report was all good. They went back to his office as it was late in the evening and he was accompanying her to her grandmother's.

"Can we have dinner tonight?" he asked.

"Nana always overcooks."

"I mean you and I?"

"You know I don’t want to eat out."

"I have an apartment just on the next street. I could whip up something in a few minutes."

Willow took a deep breath.

"You know how I feel about being in your residence."

"Will, I made a huge mistake. I know what I said was the awful, but I was not quite myself. You know whether you want to or not, you will have to be in my home after you have the baby."

"I know. I know."

"So we’re having dinner, yes?"

"Okay."

They walked from his office to his apartment. His bodyguards followed a respectable distance.

Willow did not realize how cold it was outside until they were inside the warmth of his apartment. During their time together they only spent a few nights in this apartment. She removed her coat and placed it in the coat closet.

"Do I still have clothes here?" She asked.

"Yes. I haven't gotten rid of anything."

"Okay. I am going to have a quick shower, if you don't mind."

"I want you to be comfortable."

James had indeed whipped up a quick meal. This was the first time they were dining alone since the argument. Willow was reminded of their first dinner date.

"I killed the man who killed Larry's father," James said half way through dinner.

Willow stopped and looked at him.

"You were a soldier," she said.

"He did not die in combat," James said.

This was the first time he opened up about the war or his experience. Willow wanted to say something but thought it better if she just listened.

"I have no idea how long we were in captivity. One day they decided they’d had enough of our refusal to succumb to their torture. I was tied to a chair and the executioner stopped in front of me. He just gave one swipe of the blade and Captain Sikes was dead. His body kept jumping and the blood spewed everywhere. I don't know where I got the strength from. Maybe my restraints weren't as tight as I thought, but somehow I broken the chair in my rage. The executioner swiped at me with his blade. I felt the pain in my face, but it was nothing compared to the rage.

"I remember using the ropes to strangle him, and even after his body went slack, I just kept tugging at his head. I wanted to rip it off and probably would have if self-preservation had not kicked in. I took the machete, worked through the rest of my restraints and went in search of trouble. I probably killed four or five people that night. I don't remember it all. All I remember was walking into the sands covered in blood. My own hot blood and the stench of other people’s blood were on my face.

“The next time I opened my eyes I was in a hut. It was a small dirty place. It was stiflingly hot. I couldn’t feel my face. There was an old woman. She gave me something vile to drink. I spat it out on the first sip. She swore in Farsi and kept offering the drink to me. It was for the fever she said. I don’t think she knew I understood Farsi, I think she was trying to reassure me that it wasn’t poison. I passed out when I finished drinking it.

“I don’t know if it was hours or days that passed, but when I woke again, I was alone. The hut was not hot, so I guess my fever broke. I still couldn’t feel my face. I remember hearing noise outside and shouting, shuffling and the old woman came back in. She grabbed a blanket and threw it over me. I tried to say something and she shouted for me to be quiet in Farsi. Somehow I knew I needed to keep my mouth shut. She covered me from head to toe then threw some rags on top of me. They stank of goat shit. I remembered thinking this was how I was going to die. The last thing I was going to breathe in was the scent of goat shit.

“I could hear voice shouting. Someone pushed inside the hut, grunted something and left. I was there, holding my breath as best I could. Maybe a half hour passed, I don’t know. It was difficult to tell time when you have no idea where you are or how you got there. She came back and removed the rags and the blanket. She gave me something to eat. It smelled absolutely rotten at first, but it tasted good and I was famished.

“I ate and I slept. She would wash me, change my bandages and feed me. She told me they were looking for me, but I would be safe. I tried to talk to her but my voice was hoarse and would crack instead of make words. She thought I did not understand so she would write in the dirt of the hut. I was wanted. I stayed there for perhaps three weeks after I regained consciousness.

“I lived on goat milk, vegetables and homemade goat cheese. I wanted to leave, but I was afraid, I guess. I didn’t know the war was over. One evening after I came back from a walk, the tattered door on the hut was open. There was a man inside. There was a bundle of rags on the floor. It took me only seconds to realize that what I thought were rags, was the old woman. She was dead. The man was looking for me and he killed her. And I was in a rage again.

“I don’t want to tell you how brutal I was. When I eventually made my way to the British Consulate in Turkey, the trail of bodies behind me would make Jack the Ripper look a coward. It takes a special kind of monster to do the things I did. I had no remorse. Even now it is difficult for me to relate to the man that did those things. You have no idea what horrors happened because of these hands.”

He held up his hands. They were shaking. He clasped them together and looked down at his plate. Willow was silent.

“I thought if you knew the things I did. If you knew there was a time that these hands were crimson with the blood of others you might never want to be touched by them again. I was a monster. I am a monster. When I was in the hospital here, after my third or fourth surgery, Stacey came to visit. She had just seen me and thought I was asleep. She was talking to the doctor. And I remember her asking about my scar. The doctor told her they couldn’t do more than what had already been done. There was too much damaged tissue. I was lucky to have survived it to begin with. She told the doctor, ‘how do you expect the King of England to look like a monster?’

“So I covered my scar from then on. Then you came along. I swear Willow, in the basement, all I saw was the executioner. He was laughing at me, mocking me because I had hurt you. I was now the monster.”

Willow had tears in her eyes. She thought of what she could say to make him feel better. Nothing came to her mind so she reached across the table and held his hands.

“You’re not a monster,” she said. “And you didn’t hurt me on purpose.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Come with me.”

She got from the table. He got up too. She took his left hand and led him up the stairs to the master bedroom. She undressed in front of him. James watched her, not sure what to do. She took his hands in hers and placed them on the side of her face, like the first night they kissed. She leaned in and kissed him.

Willow put her hands over his and guided his hands down her body, across her breasts, down her belly and even further. She moaned when he touched her.

She brought his hands up her sides and then to her face. She kissed each palm delicately, as if they were flowers.

“I will never be repulsed by these hands,” she said. “These are the hands of a protector, a lover, and a survivor. These hands did not hurt me. Your words hurt me, James. Not these hands. When you’ve touched me, haven’t I always begged for more?”

She leaned in and kissed him on the lips. He wrapped his arms around and kissed her back. He lifted her off the floor and brought her to the bed. Their love making was slow and beautiful.

When James woke up, he was alone. It was a strange thing for him. For the time they lived together, she could not turn in the bed without him getting up. Then he wondered for a moment if the previous night was a dream. He felt different this morning. He felt a hundred pounds lighter. Her side of the bed was rumpled. He could still smell her on the sheets. It wasn’t a dream after all.

He got up and took a shower, then dressed for the office. He could hear talking and laughing as he made his way down the stairs.

“I’m willing to negotiate for all copies of the video,” Willow said.

“Not even James could buy that video from me,” Larry said.

“I look like a crazy person!”

“You were a crazy person.”

“Name your price,” Willow said.

James could hardly believe his ears. Willow and Larry were actually talking without him playing referee.

“Hmmm,” Larry said as if thinking about it. “I think the video is more valuable for future reference.”

“Good morning,” James walked into the kitchen. He was surprised to see Larry and Willow at the island while Henry was making breakfast.

“Hi,” Willow said.

“Good morning,” Larry answered.

“What are you guys doing here?” The question was directed to Henry especially.

“I had a craving for bacon. I would have cooked the bloody thing myself except we,” Willow patted her belly, “we hate the sight of raw bacon.”

“I could have done that.”

“You looked as if you needed your sleep, so I called Henry and the next thing you know, everyone came over.”

“What are you eating?” James asked as he saw a bowl with pickles sticking out of it and some creamy substance that looked like ice cream.

“Breakfast,” Willow said.

“What is that?” James pointed to the bowl.

‘Pickles and ice cream,” Willow replied as if it was the breakfast of champions.

“Henry, you let her eat this?”

“I’m not fighting with the appetite of a pregnant woman,” Henry said. “When Daphne was pregnant all she wanted was canned sardines mixed with egg salad. The stuff smelled vile. Taking it away meant going from vile to violent. No sir, I saw the video of a yellow Beetle being pounded to death.”

“Henry!” Willow said incredulously.

“Are they ganging up on you?” It was Cassandra. She had just entered the house. Giles was with her.

“Testosterone,” Willow said.

“Babe, you can’t eat pickles and ice cream for breakfast,” James said.

“I’m not,” she said as Henry plopped a plate of French toast crusted with almonds in front of her. There was a round of French toast for everyone including James. “I’m having French toast and ice cream with a side of pickles and bacon. I think that covers all the major food groups.”

“Did you get the passes?” Cassandra said pouring syrup all over her French toast.

“Oh yes,” Willow replied. “They’re in my pocketbook upstairs.”

“What passes?” James asked.

“We’re going to a by-Jake fashion show,” Larry said. “I thought you got an invite.”

“I forgot to add it to the calendar,” Willow said looking at James.

“Okay,” he replied.

“I’ll add it later.”

They settled down to breakfast. After breakfast, Willow got her pocketbook and briefcase. Everyone was already getting ready to go.

“I’ll call you tonight,” James said before she got into the car with Giles.

“Bye.”

The night had been good but James did not delude himself into thinking they were back together. The ball was in her court. It had always been in her court.

Willow never wanted to be a model. Tonight she was playing the part only so he could see her like this. Michel, her best friend and owner of by-Jake, had constructed a special gown for her for the event. It was his interpretation of her wedding gown. It was beautiful piece, intricately hand embroidered with red lace and Swarovski crystal. It was the final piece for the show. Her intent was to tell James she was ready to move on with their relationship. That she had forgiven him. She hoped by seeing her like this, he would know that it was all for him.



James sat in the front row of the show with Cassandra, Henry, and Larry. This was not his first fashion show, but she had invited him and he wanted to be there. It would give whatever was happening between them some sense of normalcy. When she stepped on to the catwalk in the dress, he saw what he had always seen. She was a powerhouse beauty. The dress was extravagant. It hugged every curve of her body magnificently. The dazzling train of red embroidered flowers glistening as she walked reminded him of rose petals on the train of a wedding dress. That was when it hit him. It was a wedding dress.

It was how he always pictured she would look on their wedding day. The thought that it would never happen filled him with immediate despair. As he looked at her, his heart broke. The emotion cut so deep, he had to get out. He had to get away. He fled the show as a deep searing pain ripped through his heart.