The Double Rose (12 page)

“Our Father, thank you for guiding me to this appointed place; appointed time
 . . . to Marie. Help her understand the visions you have given to her and give her the strength to release fear and have faith to receive your love. Amen.”

When Josh returned from the garden, it was well past sunset.

“Did you find a nice spot to pray?”

“Yes.”

“I took time to meditate while you were gone.” She reclined on the sofa with her head propped on a velvet throw pillow. Her shapely legs were crossed and resting on the coffee table.

Hours passed in peaceful silence while Marie lounged on the sofa skimming through a dozen books. When midnight tolled, her tired eyes revealed her exhausted state. Josh gingerly approached Marie. She abruptly sat up and instantly accused him of being on the prowl again, consequently costing him the view of her cute, professionally pedicured, pink-colored polished toes.

Before he could say a word, Marie blurted, “I am done! You can sit down here.”

Josh made hand gestures, signaling his retreat stance.

She continued, “Debate with yourself all night if you want to, but I am going to bed.” She headed for the stairs, switching off the lights with a flick of her French-tipped nail before he was halfway to the hall.

He ran after her, taking two steps at a time, not willing to miss the chance to walk upstairs with her. When they reached their bedroom doors, he bid her goodnight exactly as he had the night before, kiss and all. She promptly wiped his kiss from the side of her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Are you planning on doing that every single night this week?”

“It is the highlight of my day. So, the answer to your question is absolutely yes, unless you forbid me to.” He peered deeply into her eyes.

Marie was flabbergasted. “Whatever!” She quickly slipped behind the door, exactly as the night before.

Chapter 12

Parlez-Vous Picnic

Languedoc Region, France

Wednesday, 18 July

Josh ventured out the front door of the old country mansion to ascertain the weather. The dark clouds in the distance, threatening to prove Jacques’s prediction correct, could not discourage Josh. He was not one to let a good opportunity pass by. Even a storm had its advantages.

After several minutes of clever calculation, he returned indoors, crept down the hallway to the kitchen, then spent thirty-five minutes preparing his scheme.

“Hmm,” Josh pretended to clear his throat as he stood at the foot of Marie’s towering ladder.

* * *

She ignored him, still ticked about his goodnight peck on her cheek.

“Hmm,” he raised his voice a few decibels.

Glancing down, her eyes met Josh standing by the ladder with a picnic basket and a precarious smile. Curiosity compelled her to ask, “What’s up?”

“It looks like Jacques was right; we are going to get rain. This may be our last chance to enjoy the beauty of the French countryside together. So I put a picnic together for us.” His gleaming, puppy-dog eyes projected intense longing. “Yesterday I found a beautiful garden that I would love to show you. It would mean a lot to me if you would take a break. You have to stop to eat lunch sometime.”

She looked down at him wearing his trusty blue jeans and another one of his endless collection of rugged-looking T-shirts. “When did you get food for a picnic?” She took two steps down the ladder, trying to decide whether to let him have his diversion—or not.

* * *

His heart almost skipped a beat as he watched her hesitate midway down her tower. “I’m a resourceful man.” He  hoped she would retreat from her elevated sanctuary.

Josh had intentionally mapped out a picnic spot to obtain the most advantageous view of the blooming perennials, trusting she would be captivated by their beauty and his feast.

* * *

What could she say? She did not understand her own feelings as confusion played with her emotions. Part of her felt drawn to him; another part did not want to encourage him. Of course, he was right, she did have to eat sometime. “Thanks, Josh.” She descended the third step. “That was thoughtful of you.”

He led her to the garden where the sweet smell of the upcoming rain lightly scented the air. Josh spread out a red-and-white tweed blanket near a small pond. Out of his borrowed basket he pulled ripe fruit, local cheese, freshly baked sesame seed bread, and honey from a nearby farm he had learned about at the market in town. It was no small task, but he managed to impress Marie.

She was stunned as she watched him pull a feast out of its wicker hiding place, “You truly are a resourceful man.” It did not take a detective to realize that Josh had put a lot of thoughtful preparation into their meal and its location.

“I am pleased that you approve.” He sat on the blanket close to Marie. The aroma of her lavender-scented perfume filled the air as the wind gently blew around them. “You look beautiful.”

Marie laughed as she shook her head. “Thank you.” Flattery weighed heavier on the scale of her heart than annoyance, and she ever so slightly let down her guard. “Shh. The birds are singing. Listen.” Marie relaxed and bit into a wedge of cheese and a large purple grape. “Mmm. I think this is the best Brie I have ever tasted.”

“It would be wonderful if we could understand the songbird’s song.” Josh mused.

His flirty dimple was becoming increasingly more difficult for Marie to resist.

Consciously suppressing her attraction to him, she pretended to be indifferent to his charm. “What is your favorite type of music?”

“You mean besides the harp?” His reply was well quipped with the perfect blend of wit and psychology. All quite obvious to Marie.

“Of course! We all know that the harp rules.”

He leaned close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. Intimately, playfully, his deep, masculine voice whispered in her ear, “Country.”

* * *

“Country!” she blurted, throwing her head back. Her eyes batted as she gently pushed his shoulder. “I should have expected that from a guy wearing cowboy boots.”

“Yes! I love sappy love songs.”

“Okay then. Since you love sappy so much, if you were a country song, which one would you be?”

He thought about her peculiar query for a minute, then jumped up, startling Marie, and sang every verse of “If I Didn’t Have You”—a cappella!

Marie fell backward in laughter as she listened to him pour his heart into a love-struck, musical message that reiterated his incurable hope of making her his wife. Her beautiful, long auburn hair captured the sunlight as it fell onto the grass. It was a pleasant surprise to discover how easily he could make her laugh—when she let him.

“Not bad,” she managed to say in spite of her lingering laughter, ”but I don’t think Randy Travis needs to be worried about competition!”

* * *

The rain began in a sprinkle, forcing them to retreat to the mansion, where the suspenseful task of hunting through the huge old library resumed. Hours passed in intense silence as Marie searched through large stacks of books she had piled on the desks. She crashed–mentally and physically–on the sofa.

“Josh!”

He emerged from the hallway with a pile of sheet music and a steaming cup of coffee. His gentle blue eyes twinkled in delight.

“I’m
 . . . beginning to think . . . you were right,” she gulped out a confession. “I am exhausted from hunting through these books. It is a useless waste of time. What were you saying about other possibilities?”

* * *

Did he hear her correctly? That sounded like an invitation; at least, that was how he chose to interpret it. Josh placed his mug and stack of piano sheet music on the desk, then eagerly joined Marie as an invited guest into her well-guarded personal space.

Josh carefully selected his words. “I suggested that you might have an epiphany about your dream. But that does not negate the possibility of finding something tangible.” He respected the significance that France, the estate, and Marie's peculiar experiences held for her. “Maybe you are trying too hard. Why don’t you rest, take in the ambience of this place, allow your mind to explore alternative meanings?” He mustered up his courage. “Marie,” he nestled his arm on her shoulder, “you cannot keep chasing an invisible man who lives in your dreams.”

* * *

She could not surrender her heart to him—not without knowing for certain, without a shadow of a doubt, he was the man in her dreams.
What does the double rose mean?
Until she understood that, she could not give her love away, yet neither did she feel compelled to brush his arm off her content shoulders.

The sound of thunder burst over them as if they were being invaded by a greater power. They looked toward the crystal chandelier as the lights flickered, then the darkness remained. Josh stood up. “Looks like a power outage. I will find some candles.”

“Geez! What is next? I hate blackouts. I do not mind the dark, but I definitely mind the loss of technology.” Marie decided that tagging along after Josh on a candle-hunting expedition was more appealing to her than sitting alone in the dark. In a kitchen cabinet drawer, they found a stash of candles, matches, flashlights, and extra batteries. “Lucky for us someone here believes in preparedness. But if worst came to worst, I could have grabbed the flashlight from my purse upstairs.”

“Why didn’t we
start
with your flashlight?”

“Because watching you be a man hunting for something besides me was so much more fun!” She laughed in an undeniably flirtatious way.

“Far be it from me to impede your fun,” he retorted. “Since it is already past dinnertime, why don’t I light,” he struck a match, “these candles,” he lit four tall, red tapered candles, “and we can eat together?”

Marie observed that Josh had shrewdly seized the moment.

“Sure,” she moved closer to him and whispered, “but have you forgotten that the only thing we have to eat is bananas, dry cereal, and one pint of milk at the most? You were going to go grocery shopping tonight—remember?”

“I didn't forget, but even the mundane can be a feast if the mood is right.”

Slices of banana were plopped into two thinly milked bowls of cereal.

Marie enjoyed his improvised candle-lit dinner but simultaneously regretted her loss of time created by the blackout. After three games of checkers he had swiped from the kids’ corner in the library, Marie announced the best use of her time would be to sleep. She hoped the lights would be restored by morning.

As they climbed the staircase, she thought about what was coming in front of the bedroom doors—his goodnight kiss. It had only been a sweet little peck on the cheek up until now, but would he take advantage of the blackout by trying to take advantage of her?

Her heart started beating faster as they approached the doors. She absolutely would not permit him to give her a real kiss. She had never been kissed before. She had saved herself, all of herself, for the man of her destiny. Josh would not be allowed to steal his kiss.

“I enjoyed dinner tonight more than you know. I will never forget it.” He ran his thick, masterful fingers along the side of her smooth face, and then his lips gently pressed against her cheek. He whispered in her ear, “Goodnight, Marie.”

Chapter 13

Time to Play

Languedoc Region, France

Thursday, 19 July

As soon as her eyelids opened, Marie promptly investigated the status of the blackout and was elated to discover it had been restored. She quickly dressed, skipped breakfast, and proceeded to make up for lost time.

* * *

By late afternoon, the rain poured harder than the night before. The wind, playfully dancing through the branches outside the kitchen window, inspired Josh.
Maybe it is time for Marie and I to play
. He gazed at her, lounging with her feet propped on a chair while she wrote in her journal, wearing ordinary sweats and a plain-as-day yellow tank top. She took his breath away, but not solely because he perceived her to be physically beautiful. She was accomplished, witty, and as original as her paintings.

“Do you, by any chance, still remember the duet our parents made us play in high school?”

“
Clair de Lune?
How could I ever forget that piece? Besides the fact that it is a classic, you insisted we practice every night for at least a month.” She shook her head, unaware of her naiveté. “Seriously, Josh, even though it has some challenging rhythms, I thought we had it mastered in two weeks.”

Josh innocently smiled, thinking it best not to clue her in, not when he was making considerable progress. He did not want to take the slightest risk of ticking her off with a confession that he had mastered his part in only one week. “Did you happen to notice the white grand piano and antique harp in the front room?”

“I barely caught them out of the corner of my eye when we arrived. Why? What are you up to?”

Josh detected a note of accusation in her tone. He grabbed her arm, then attempted to pull her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go.”

* * *

“Go where?” She resisted him by clasping her arm around the chair. Although she knew he probably could bench-press more than she weighed, she used all her body weight against his playful, yet firm, grasp.

“Let’s see if we can still play together.”

“Are you crazy?” She dismissed his suggestion. “You're being ridiculous.”

“Come on, Marie. We could use some music. I have explored this mansion twice; there is not a radio anywhere. Let’s play together.”

Her mind was closed to the idea.

“If you don't play the piece with me, I will sing another country song. I know a lot of them.”

It was a fearful thought, but he got her attention. Not that Josh could not sing, his vocals were decent, but country!? “You are threatening me now? I thought you came here to protect me,” she parlayed.

He pulled her to her feet, but only because she cooperated. “Okay, I'm going, but this is a waste of time.”

When Marie examined the harp, it was, of course, out of tune. “There is no point in merely making noise, so unless we can find the key, I cannot tune it or play it.” Marie was a true artist—no shabby work for her, not even in fun.

The adventure began—hunting through mysterious drawers and knickknacks scattered around the Victorian parlor. Now that her mind was diverted from her focal point in the library, Marie began to absorb the beauty of her surroundings more thoroughly. She paused in front of the piano to admire the medieval painting over the keyboard.

“I appreciate the craftsmanship of this old place. Look at the detailed design on the crown molding.” She pointed toward the ceiling. “What period do you think it is from?”

Josh made a quick assessment. “Looks like late eighteenth century.”

She abruptly turned to him. “Impressive.” The more time she spent with Josh, the more she realized how complex he was. He had many facets to his personality and talents that she had not observed before.

Josh faithfully examined all fifty drawers in an apothecary chest, while Marie searched through a cabinet of sheet music near the piano. “Not any more than me asking you to date a Botticelli. It was part of my education. Standard stuff in my line of work.”

She admired his humility. He did not boast or brag, nor was he uncomfortable accepting honest praise. “I know it was your father’s dream to be an architect-slash-engineer, but why did you choose the profession?”

“I love taking raw materials and creating something new and wonderful with them. That is why I often do more than draw up plans. I enjoy working on the construction, too.”

“I found it!” Strangely hidden inside a Valentine’s tin from years gone by was the coveted tuning key. “I guess if you look hard enough, you will find what you are looking for,” she said with a smidgen of profound wit. “I hope I will have the same success finding everything else I am looking for in this mysterious old place.”

After the harp had been properly tuned and warm-ups completed, they played their old recital piece as if it were yesterday. Except this time, Marie was not incensed by her duet partner.

“Okay, enough fun. I have a mission to accomplish, and I should get back to it.”

The library was abandoned for the paintings lining the extensive upstairs hallways. They walked side by side admiring the impressive collection of European portraits. “You know, Josh, these paintings should be in a museum.”

He turned his neck to respond. “I agree. It is sad to see all these originals hidden away in an empty mansion.” They passed their bedrooms, progressing at a slow pace over the runner.

At the end of the hallway, Marie’s sixth sense struck a chord. “This feels familiar.” She nervously ran her hand through her hair. The adjacent hallway extended their tour. There were no portraits in this wing of the estate; instead the walls displayed century-old oils depicting nature scenes—a snowbound wolf, wild roses, a tranquil waterfall, a fawn . . . Marie paused in front of a rendition of a sunrise over a lake. “These paintings are unlike any others in the estate.” She moved close to the canvas to make a microscopic examination. “I seriously doubt they were produced in Europe.”

As her vision fixed on the signature, shock set in. “I
 . . . I cannot believe this. Josh, look at this signature” She pointed to the artist’s name,
Misai
. “He was Grandmother Marie’s true love. My ancestor.” She reached into her pocket for her cell phone and turned toward Josh. “Do you know what this means?”

Josh’s clueless expression and shrug of his shoulders communicated that he did not. Her excitement escalated. “It means that
 . . . ” she photographed the first painting, “the Osage warriors saved more than one crate of books and Grandmother Marie’s rocking chair!” She quickly snapped photos of Grandfather Misai’s paintings as if they were about to vaporize.

Something had changed. Had she become desensitized to Josh’s annoying traits, or had he become less annoying? In the midst of contemplating her quandary, the doorbell rang and interrupted her thoughts.

* * *

“I will get it.” Josh demanded more than insisted on dealing with the unexpected visit. He made his way to the front door and then opened it. “Marianne!” He was delighted to see her. “You don’t need to ring.”

Marianne entered the foyer holding a fresh-baked rhubarb pie. “Of course I do. I do not want to interrupt two young lovers.”

He was glad Marie had not heard Marianne’s perceptive remark.

“I want to make sure you are getting on in this foul weather, and I brought you a pie. Where is she?”

“Thanks for the pie. It looks delicious. May I carry it for you? Marie’s upstairs totally consumed after discovering paintings crafted by her ancestor.”

“Her ancestor?” Marianne graciously accepted his offer, then handed him the pie.

“Misai. He painted the landscapes and animals. ”

“Marianne, is that you?” Marie called from the hallway.

Josh called back to her, “We are in the kitchen.”

Marie entered the room offering a warm reception to their host.

“Bonjour,” Marianne exclaimed.

Pie was served up in the kitchen, much to the appeal of Josh’s palate. He would take pie over cake any day.

“So, Marie, tell me, how is your journey going?” The gentle glow surrounding her wrinkled face suggested Marianne was eager to hear good news.

“You are sweet to be interested.” Marie looked first into her teacup, then into the soft brown hue in Marianne’s eyes. “It has been a very . . . interesting . . . week. We hit a high point right before you arrived . . . ” She took a sip of tea. “When we found Grandfather Misai’s paintings upstairs.” She sat back, rubbing her hands together on her lap. “But . . . to be honest . . . I do not know why I am here.” Disappointment was etched on her face.

Marianne put her teacup back into its saucer and sat back in the chair. “You know, Marie, I think, perhaps, you are looking too hard. Please, tell me the experience that has prompted you to come here.”

Marie recited the entirety of her original double rose dream, then gathered up the dirty plates, containing no more than a hint that rhubarb had ever been on them.

Marianne’s eyes squinted in concentration
 . . . “You know,” she spoke slowly, running a hand through her spiked silver hair, “I am not exactly sure where it is, but there is a ragged, leather-bound, hand-written book of poems with an image of roses painted on the cover somewhere in the estate. It is probably in the library, but I am not certain.”

Shocked, Marie carelessly jerked toward Marianne and accidentally knocked the milk pitcher over with her elbow, which quickly made a milk puddle on the tabletop that flowed in thin rivulets over the side onto Marie’s sweatpants. The pitcher rolled onto the floor, crashing into countless fragments, cutting Josh’s foot.

“I am so sorry!” Marie grabbed a cloth napkin. “Geez! I cannot believe how clumsy I can be sometimes!” Marie dashed to the sink to dampen the napkin with cold water from the faucet. “Josh, are you all right?” She knelt on the floor, then wiped his wound with the damp cloth, overwhelmed with sincere regret.

“I am fine. It serves me right for wearing sandals instead of my boots.” He playfully smirked, hoping to ease Marie’s anxiety.

“You are not fine. You’re bleeding!”

He bent down to her eye level. Placing his finger on her chin, he lifted her face and offered her a wide smile. “Go change. It's just a little scratch. All I need is a bandage, and if anyone understands how a glass pitcher can accidentally break, hurting someone you care about, I do. It was an accident. Don’t be upset.”

While the odd couple talked, Marianne located the first-aid kit. After the blood had been wiped off, his injury proved not serious, but very fortunate because it also proved that Marie did care for him.

Josh persuaded Marie to let him clean up the mess while she changed out of her wet sweats.

“Tell me something–you might say I have a gift for matchmaking and can recognize love when I see it. You love her, don’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?” He knelt on the floor and wrung out a sponge into a large bucket. Somehow he managed to use too much soap, and the suds turned out to be more of a clean-up project than the milk.

Marianne laughed. “You might as well have put a neon sign over your head. Does she realize that she loves you, too?”

“Last Monday I would have said no in a big way, but today
 . . . maybe . . . her heart is softening.” He used a dry dishtowel to wipe up the last trace of soapy water.

“It is. I know the look of a woman in love, and she has it. Well, maybe she doesn’t know it herself yet. But she will. Don't lose hope.” After checking the time on her watch, Marianne made a quick farewell. “I have a date with my son. Please tell Marie
au revoir
for me.”

Marie changed into a cute summer dress. Josh hoped that her step-up in attire was an effort to encourage him. He attempted to read her from the tone in her voice to every motion of her body language.

The library was reinstated as the primary focus of Marie’s adventure. Like a tornado, she circled the room for three hours. “Which shelf? Which shelf?” Her rambling quickly evolved into distress. “I have to find that book!”

He could not bear to see her in such a panic. He crossed the room to comfort her, not realizing how upset Marie was until she turned to face him. The sight of her tearful, desperate eyes pierced his heart. Wiping below her eyes with his thumb, he smiled reassuringly. “We are going to find it. I promise, even if I have to take the house apart to do it.” She threw her arms around him and buried her head in his chest. Josh immediately reciprocated her embrace.

The sensation of his strong hands caressing her back appeared to rally her spirits. He pulled his chin down, hoping to get a peek at her face. “You know I actually could tear it down and rebuild it, but I don’t think we would make our plane.” His playful manner aroused a giggle from Marie. “You know you are adorable when you wrinkle your nose like that.” Her sobbing halted, but she looked sleepy.

“Thanks, but I don't feel 'adorable.'”

Realizing the day was spent, he whispered in her ear, “You look tired.”

* * *

“You have no idea.” It was late, and the feather pillows in the upstairs bed were calling her name. “I wish I could fly upstairs.”