Island in the Sea (27 page)

“Where are we?” Juliet followed Lionel down an arched pathway lined with gold crosses.

“The Lluc monastery is the oldest monastery in Majorca,” Lionel explained. “In 1242 a boy name Lluc found a black statue of the Virgin Mary in the forest. He took it to the priest in Esconca, but the next morning it was gone. He went back to the forest and discovered it in the same place. This went on for days; every time he moved the statue it found its way back to the forest.

“In 1260 the monks built the Lluc monastery in the spot where he found the statue. It has been a monastery ever since, and people come from all over to walk in the gardens. The chapel of the Black Virgin is one of the most beautiful chapels I've ever seen.”

Lionel drew her into the chapel and gazed at the domed ceiling and stained glass windows. He saw the polished mosaic floor and gold altar. He gazed at gilt candelabras and huge paintings lining the walls.

“The statue of the Black Virgin is hidden behind the altar.” Lionel stopped in front of the statue. “Legend has it if you ask her for something she will answer.”

Lionel led Juliet back into the hallway. They crossed the courtyard and stopped in front of a whitewashed building. He tapped on the door and waited for someone to answer.

The door opened and he saw a man wearing a long robe and leather sandals. Lionel clapped him on the shoulder and handed him a brown parcel. He took Juliet's hand and they walked quickly across the cobblestones.

They emerged in an interior garden with rose bushes and a wide oak tree. Green trellises were covered with pink bougainvillea, and there was a sundial and a marble fountain.

“Father Jorge was a serious smoker before he became a monk.” Lionel sat on a stone bench. “Once a month I bring him a carton of Marlboros and he allows me into his private garden. I love the chapel of the Black Virgin, but it's hard to talk to God when you're jostling tourists carrying cameras and backpacks.”

“I didn't know you were religious,” Juliet murmured.

“How can anyone not believe in God? It's like not believing in Leonardo da Vinci. Do you think the flowers and trees got here by themselves? Somebody had to have a grand vision,” Lionel asked.

“I've always thought confession is ridiculous, why on earth would I tell my failings to a stranger in a black box who never gives advice? I'd much rather visit a psychiatrist. But there is nothing more humbling than sitting on this bench and contemplating the blue sky and green mountains.”

“I just thought…” Juliet hesitated.

“Thought what?”

“That if you didn't believe in love anymore, you didn't believe in anything.”

Lionel leaned forward and kissed Juliet softly on the lips.

He felt her kiss him back and suddenly the earth was spinning. He felt the sun on his shoulders and a light breeze on his back. He kissed her harder and tasted honey and cinnamon.

He tucked a hair behind her ear and took her hand.

“Where are we going?” Juliet asked.

“Somewhere a little more private.” Lionel looked up at the blue sky. “I have the odd feeling someone is watching.”

*   *   *

They drove silently back to Casa Rosa, and Lionel opened the car door. They raced up the stone steps of the villa and entered the living room. Lionel walked to the closet and pulled out a basket of CDs. He put on
Some Girls
by the Rolling Stones and sat next to Juliet on the striped silk love seat.

They listened to the Beatles and Foreigner and Boston. He introduced her to The Darkness and she pulled out Imagine Dragons. Lionel rustled up a carton of orange juice and two turkey sandwiches and they played John Butler and Mumford & Sons. He watched Juliet wipe mustard from her mouth with a napkin and talk about Jack Johnson and thought his heart would explode.

Finally they moved to the library and searched through the shelves. He read verses from
The Waste Land,
and
Absalom, Absalom!
and
The Raven and Other Poems
. She recited the first paragraph of
Lolita
and read the last page of
The Great Gatsby
out loud. He saw the evening sun filter through the window and the smooth curve of her neck and kissed her softly on the mouth.

“I think I have to take you home,” he murmured.

“But we haven't read
Ethan Frome
or
The Old Man and the Sea
,” Juliet protested.

“If I didn't have a conscience I would take you upstairs into the bedroom.” Lionel loosened his collar. “I would unzip that lovely floral dress and fold it carefully on the chair. I would unsnap your bra and marvel at the creamy texture of your breasts. Then I would pull you down on the bed and kiss you as if the night would last forever.” He paused and ran his hands through his hair. “But even God took six days to make the world; we can't expect to accomplish everything in one night.”

*   *   *

Lionel walked to the marble bar and poured a glass of brandy. He twirled the snifter in his hand and inhaled deeply. He walked to the piano and sat on the wood bench.

He pictured Juliet's glossy brown hair and blue eyes and pink mouth. He remembered the way her mouth turned up at the edges when she laughed. He opened his notebook and began to write.

chapter twenty-seven

J
ULIET SAT AT AN OUTDOOR
table in the plaza and sipped a glass of lemonade. She sprinkled pepper on a spinach salad and took a small bite. She gazed at the boutiques filled with brightly colored scarves and fruit stalls crammed with oranges and plums and felt her shoulders tighten.

She called Gideon when she woke up but Rosemary said he was out of the office with an emergency root canal. She paced around her suite and thought even if Gideon released Lionel from his contract, how would Lionel feel if she kept working for him? And would Gideon really keep her on if she didn't return with the new songs or a check for one hundred and sixty-six thousand dollars?

The music industry was full of bright young people eager to devote themselves to demanding artists and impossible hours. What if she quit and couldn't find another job?

She remembered sitting in the living room in Casa Rosa eating homemade ice cream and listening to Muse and never wanting the night to end. But now it was early afternoon and Lionel hadn't called. Maybe he had been swept up by the beauty of the monastery and reconsidered in the morning. He didn't make love to her because she was too young and they lived in different countries and it was impossible to be together.

She stood on the balcony and gazed at the green valleys and shimmering Mediterranean and suddenly needed fresh air. She slipped on a cotton dress and leather sandals and hurried to the plaza.

Now she nibbled round red tomatoes and tried to stop her heart from racing. Maybe Lionel had slept in and would call soon. She pictured him in his silk robe and John Lobb slippers and felt like an awkward schoolgirl.

“Juliet,” a female voice said. “I was going to the Hotel Salvia to see you, but now I've discovered you in the plaza. It's such a gorgeous day I thought I would treat myself to a plate of tapas and a sparkling cider.”

“Lydia, you look beautiful.” Juliet admired her yellow crepe dress. “You are more stylish than any tourist in Sóller.”

“There's a boutique on Aveneido Via Gran that receives designs straight from Paris. Maria put aside this Céline dress and silver sandals.” She paused and patted her hair. “I find there's nothing better for working up an appetite than a little shopping.

“You are positively glowing.” Lydia sat opposite Juliet. “Have you discovered a new spa?”

“Lionel and I visited the Lluc monastery yesterday,” Juliet began. “We sat in a private garden and he kissed me. Then we went to Casa Rosa and ate turkey sandwiches and pistachio ice cream. We listened to music and read books and it was the most wonderful night of my life. But he hasn't called and I'm afraid he thinks it's a mistake. I work for a man he despises and we live on different continents.”

“I remember the first flush of romance when you spend hours interpreting a smile or the way someone squeezes your hand. The best thing is to distract yourself with a long walk or a good book.” She fiddled with her earrings. “I'm worried about Gabriella, she told me about Hugo.”

“I thought you would be pleased; I can't wait to call Gideon and tell him she accepted his offer.”

“Last night I watched
Sabrina
with Audrey Hepburn and William Holden and Humphrey Bogart,” Lydia began. “It's one of my favorite movies. Audrey Hepburn is the daughter of the chauffeur and has been in love with William Holden since she was a little girl. She goes to cooking school in Paris and returns with glamorous clothes and a European haircut and impossibly long eyelashes.” Lydia sighed. “Suddenly William Holden is madly in love with her.

“I sat on the sofa with a box of tissues and realized I always wanted to be Sabrina. I wanted to arrive in America and be surrounded by men in silk tuxedos and women wearing black cocktail dresses and mink stoles. I wanted to hold parties with a ten-piece orchestra and waiters in white dinner jackets serving platters of fresh oysters and French champagne.

“The problem with getting old is one confuses age with wisdom and there are fewer people who tell you when you make a mistake.” She twisted her hands. “I came so close to going to America and then it was taken away. I wanted Gabriella to fulfill my dream, not hers.”

“But she said you were right; just because she hasn't traveled doesn't mean she won't enjoy it.” Juliet frowned. “And she thinks she might love singing in front of an audience.”

“What if she comes down with the flu in Brazil or is terrified by the bright lights of the stage?” Lydia paused. “I don't want her to become a singer because she's angry at Hugo, I want her to do it because she can't imagine doing anything else.”

“What should I do?” Juliet asked.

“First you can help me eat aubergine with sautéed mushrooms and tell me about Lionel.” Lydia glanced at the menu and her eyes sparkled. “Then you can go to Casa Isabella and talk to Gabriella.”

*   *   *

Juliet felt the late afternoon breeze on her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her chest. She had done what Lydia suggested and spent hours gazing at the Miros and Picassos at Ca'n Prunera. She bought postcards at the gift shop and tried on pastel sweaters in a boutique.

But she didn't feel like buying new clothes and couldn't think of anyone to write to. Finally she walked back to Hotel Salvia and entered the stone lobby.

“Miss Lyman, it is lovely to see you,” the concierge called. “I have done something I'm not proud of, I let a gentleman into your room. He insisted you were friends and he had to make a personal delivery. I said it was out of the question but…”

“But what?” Juliet prompted him.

“He claimed he was friends with Bono and could get me tickets to the concert in Málaga,” the concierge admitted. “He was only in your suite for a few minutes and U2 is my wife's favorite band.”

“How long ago was that?” Juliet asked, hurrying up the staircase.

“About an hour ago,” the concierge replied. “I feel terrible, please forgive me.”

Juliet felt her cheeks flush and her heart expand. She turned to the concierge and her face lit up in a smile. “Don't worry, it's perfectly all right.”

*   *   *

She entered the suite and gazed at the four-poster bed and mahogany desk and high-backed velvet chair. She glanced at the oak end table and saw a black velvet box and ivory envelope.

She slit open the envelope and read out loud:

Dear Juliet,

When I said jewelry always came with an agenda, I was wrong. Sometimes it as simple as trying to match the beauty of creamy skin and bright blue eyes.

I searched all day and finally found what I was looking for. I hope you will wear them tonight and join me at Cap Rocat for dinner. I will pick you up at 8 p.m. I suppose you will have to wear a dress to go with my gift, as we will be eating in public. Please don't wear anything with complicated buttons or zippers.

Lionel

Juliet opened the box and saw diamond teardrop earrings. She held them up to the mirror and gasped. She stood at the balcony and watched the sky turn pink and orange and the sun melt into the Mediterranean and had never been so happy.

chapter twenty-eight

L
IONEL STOOD IN FRONT
of the closet and selected a white dinner jacket. He paired it with a silk bow tie and black slacks. He slipped on gold cuff links and padded down the staircase.

He entered the living room and grabbed his car keys. He slid his gold cigarette case in his pocket and smoothed his hair. He pictured Juliet with her dark hair and blue eyes and felt like a schoolboy attending his first cotillion.

He walked to the bar and poured a shot of scotch. He remembered the way Juliet's eyes lit up when he recited Emily Dickinson and how her cheeks glowed when she listened to Cat Stevens and put the glass on the marble counter. They were going to sit at a table overlooking the Bay of Palma eating grilled octopus and sipping a Merlot, and he didn't want to miss anything.

*   *   *

“Cap Rocat used to be a medieval fortress,” Lionel said. “Antonio Obrador turned it into a hotel and restaurant ten years ago, and now it's a secret hideaway for the jet set. Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones introduced me to it. People think Catherine is reserved because she has that clipped British accent. Give her a few gin and tonics and she lets her hair down and dances on the tables.”

They sat in a courtyard surrounded by high stone walls. The tables were covered with crisp linen tablecloths and flanked by tall fir trees. Plush white sofas were scattered over the cobblestones and twinkling lights were strung between lush palm trees.