Blind Obsession

Chapter Twenty-Seven ~ Truth

I race down the stairs and grab my coat from the rack by the door. Heading outside, I know exactly where he is—the river. He’s got to be down by the river.

Stopping for a moment, I look to the sky and feel the warmth of the sun as it beams down over my face. It’s just turned noon, and there isn’t a cloud in sight. It’s cool, but there’s no wind. The air is still.

Zipping my coat, I start to make my way to the small path through the vineyards, and as I get closer, I find myself picking up pace until I’m jogging. Reaching the last bend in the path, I make the turn and spot him immediately.

He’s over by the edge of the water with his back to me. As usual, he’s wearing his long dark coat. The collar has been turned up against his neck. His hands are clasped and drawn into tight fists behind his back.

I realize that I’m holding myself as still as a statue. I’m barely even breathing, not wanting to disturb him. I try to think of some way to let him know that I’m there without startling him. I’m surprised when his deep voice reaches between the empty space.

“I know you’re there, Gemma.”

Swallowing and shaking my hands out by my legs, I tell myself, Move. Put one foot in front of the other and move. Go to him.

Just as I make that first step, he mumbles, “I always know you’re there.”

That’s when I feel myself falter. My foolish heart starts to thump at the idea that he notices me until I remind myself of everything he’s told me and everything he’s done over the last few days. He sees me only because of her.

Compelling myself to move again, I manage to make it as far as a couple of feet behind him, but I lose my nerve and stop. I wait patiently for him to either acknowledge me or pretend I don’t exist. I know that no matter which option he chooses, it will cripple me in some fundamental way.

It feels like hours are passing by as I stand there on the bank of theFleuve Sauvage de Fleurs, staring at the strong shoulders shrouded in black wool, but in actuality, it’s not much longer than several minutes.

His voice finally breaks through the thick silence. “It was a day just like today, you know. Only, it was warmer.”

I don’t question which day he’s talking about because I already know.

“There was not a cloud in sight,” he tells me. Following that statement, he lets out a small laugh. “I had this idea to paint her here in the water.”

Looking over his shoulder, our eyes connect. He’s waiting for me to comment. Perhaps he wants me to make some kind of accusatory statement, but he won’t get that from me. I know he has done nothing wrong. When it’s clear that I’m not going to say anything, he once again turns back to face the running river.

“The weather was perfect. The sun was up, bringing you warmth when you stepped outside. It was blue. The sky was such a brilliant shade of blue that day. I didn’t think to check the weather that day. Pretty fucking stupid of me since I knew the water table had risen with all the rain we had received.”

I shift my feet slightly, looking up at the cloudless sky, and I realize that it looks exactly as he is describing from that day. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue.

“It was around two thirty in the afternoon when we came down here. I clothed her as I wanted to paint her. She wore a white dress that flowed down to her toes. Her beautiful...” Pausing, he seems to be trying to gather himself before continuing. “Her beautiful hair was left out. I wanted it to float around her.”

Shaking his head at himself, I know somewhere deep inside he’s villainizing his actions. He’s blaming himself for bringing her down here, blaming himself for dressing her, and blaming himself for ultimately letting her go.

Over and over, he watches the scene playing out in his mind. As he stands there by the river where she finally let go, leaving him, he closes his eyes and sees every detail with startling clarity.

Chantel stepped out of the chateau.

“You look like an angel,” he told her as he moved toward her and looked her over. He had bought the dress the other day when he’d been in town. It had been hanging in the window of a little boutique, and as soon as he had seen it, he’d visualized her wearing it while somehow floating. She had then told him about her dream. It wasn’t until they had gone down to the river when he had realized he wanted to paint her in the water.

She laughed. “An angel?”

He reached out to take her hands in his own.

Entwining their fingers, Chantel smirked. “I think I proved last night that I’m no angel.”

Pulling her forward, he leaned down, unable to resist, and pressed his lips to hers. After kissing her gently, he smiled. “And let’s not forget this morning.”

Leaning her head away from his, she arched an eyebrow. “Oh, that was you?”

“Oh yes, Chantel.” He let his eyes move to her plump red lips. “That was me deep, deep inside of you as you screamed my name.”

Letting her head fall back, she parted those lips as she basked in the warmth of the sun. “Hmmm, that’s because you set me on fire.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Don’t start that. I want to get down to the river before we lose the light.”

Sighing dramatically, she shook her head. “Fine, Mr. Artiste. Lead the way.”

Taking her hand, he guided her down the small dirt path through the rows of vines. As they rounded the bend, he let go of her hand and moved forward until he realized that she had stopped.

“You okay?”

Chantel nodded as she tilted her head to the side. “Yellowhammers, right?”

He looked up above them, and sure enough, there were several little birds chirping and jumping through the branches.

“Yes,” he confirmed and laughed. “How did you know that?”

Instead of answering him, she just smiled and bent down.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking my sandals off,” she replied as though he should already know this. “I want to feel the grass.” She paused for a moment. “There is grass, right? That day we came down here, I think I remember—”

Laughing, he answered, “Yes, there’s grass. It’s extremely green and lush right now. There are no stickers either. Your dainty little feet will be safe.”

He watched as she kicked off her sandals and let her toes sink into the long green blades. Clasping her hands in front of her, she smiled in his direction, and for a moment, he was struck with just how incredibly special she was.

This woman was not only beautiful on the outside. She also had everything good and pure inside of her that seemed to find a way to touch people. Whether through her music or just the way she stood there now guileless, trusting, and serene, she had a way. In a place so untouched, he couldn’t imagine a better scene to capture her true essence.

“Come,” he invited, watching as she moved toward his voice.

With each step she took, she seemed to delight in the grass tickling her toes. Her smile beamed as she moved closer. When she finally reached him, he took the hand that was by her side.

“If we wade out just a little bit, it will be perfect.”

Nodding in agreement, she squeezed his hand and turned, moving toward the water’s edge.

“I went and bought a secondhand violin today” he told her.

He noticed that she was looking down to where the water was now lapping at her bare toes.

Giggling, she looked back to where she heard his voice. “Well, that’s good because I was not going to bring Diva in here with me.”

He couldn’t help but smile as she stood there with her feet in the water and a grin on her face. God, he loved her, and tonight, he was going to ask her to be his forever.

As she reached up and ran her nimble fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes and groaned from the pleasure of her touch. Who knew he would ever feel such peace at the hands of another human being? What a gift she had, and each time she touched him, she reminded him of the bond and pull they had with one another. When he opened his eyes, he saw that she was staring right back at him almost as though she could see him, and he knew that she felt it, too.

Pulling back gently, he ran a hand down her hair. He asked her one more time, “Are you sure you don’t mind being in the water?”

She released his hand, and he felt the absence of it as acutely as he would a missing limb. When her ankles were submerged, she turned back to him and smiled.

“Not in the least.”

He moved and kicked off his own shoes. He’d worn shorts today, knowing that he would have to wade out into the river. Moving in behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You okay?”

Laughing, she nodded. “Yes, Phillipe, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

As they both walked out into the water, he could feel the cool liquid creeping up his calves. Her dress was starting to rise and float to the top.

She gasped softly. “Oh! It’s cool.”

Gently, he squeezed her shoulders. “Want to leave?”

“No, it’s already starting to feel nice.”

“Okay, let’s go out a little bit farther,” he told her.

As they continued, he could feel some branches that must have fallen into the river. They brushed his legs as they moved farther out.

When the water lapped around the top of her legs, he stopped her. “Here. This will be perfect.”

She turned in his arms and grinned up at him. “Hmm, I like this. Maybe we should strip and go for a swim.”

“If we strip, we will never leave. Okay, I’m going back to the edge. Are you alright here by yourself?”

Sighing, she arched a brow. “I’m fine. It’s only to my thighs, and I’m pretty sure I can rest against this huge boulder if I get tired.” She paused as she reached her hand into the water. With a mischievous grin, she lifted her hand to splash him. “Go already, or the sun will go down.”

“I’ll get you for that,” he promised as he started making his way back to the bank. “And Chantel? Move away from the boulder. I need you to float, not sit on the rock like a mermaid.”

When he got to the edge, he turned around to face her. She was standing almost at the halfway point between the two banks, and the water was moving slowly around her, shifting the white dress back and forth as it floated on the surface.

He smiled to himself, knowing his vision would be perfect, but at the same time, he felt a niggling of fear because she was out there on her own.

“Is this far enough?” she called out.

He didn’t answer right away as he was starting to second-guess himself. He was about to go to her and bring her back in, when on a loud shout, she told him.

“Would you quit worrying? I know you’re worrying, Phillipe! I’ve been swimming for years, plus it’s only up to my thighs.”

Smiling at her smart little mouth and the constant reminder she kept giving him, he nodded slightly as if she could see him.

“Okay fine. Can you float?”

Nodding, she lowered herself into the water. “Yes, I can float.”

As she stretched out, he looked up to the sky and noticed that several clouds had started to shift in overhead. Damn it!

Wondering how much time they had before they lost the light, he picked up his sketchpad and started to draw. Her dress drifted all around her as she held out her arms to the sides of her body. He sketched her for a solid thirty minutes. He captured the outline of her hair, the yards of material, and the water. He figured he’d fill in the violin and other details tomorrow.

He couldn’t help adding her lips though. They were parted, and she looked peaceful as she lay there in the water. As he shaded from her hip down to her legs, he noticed her ankles had started to fall beneath the water. She was getting tired.

Smiling, he figured that she didn’t even realize it. Ha, and she thought she could float.

“Chantel,” he called out to her.

When he got no answer, he placed the charcoal on the sketchpad and called out again. He figured that the water was covering her ears or she had zoned out as she lay relaxed in the warm afternoon sun.

“Chantel!”

He was about to stand and go to her when a fat raindrop hit the page he was working on. Looking up to the sky, he saw the clouds were darkening and moving now at a more rapid pace. Placing the pad on the ground, he stood and made his way out into the water.

He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but it seemed like the current had picked up. Chantel was exactly where he had left her, but he knew he was right about the current because her dress was now shifting much more with the water that was streaming all around her.

When he got closer, he called her name again, feeling that the water was now to his waist. It had definitely risen in the last thirty minutes. All of a sudden, that slither of fear started to slide back in.

“Chantel!” he called more frantic than only seconds before.

This time, she turned her head toward him just as he reached her. She smiled, and he felt the weight lift from his heart as she moved to raise herself. That was when she faltered slightly.

The expression on her face shifted, turning to one of confusion. “Phillipe?” she questioned.

Moving quickly, he made it to her side and reached out to grip her shoulder, trying to help her get upright. He watched as she seemed to be pulling on her foot, straining to move it. She attempted to place her other foot on the bottom to stand herself up, but she failed. The water sloshed around her. As her foot was swept up, she was thrown on her back again.

What the hell is going on? He felt his heart start to pound in time with the speed of the now rapidly falling rain.

“Phillipe?” she called again.

This time, he could tell she was starting to panic.

Not knowing what to do, he moved around to where her head was resting above the water. As she continued to float, he reached out to grip her head with his hands.

“I’m right here.” He tried to reassure her as he looked around them. He was feeling anything but calm.

“My foot…the boulder. I don’t understand what happened.”

He looked down her body where her arms were lying beside her. Her one leg was floating, and the other was now fully submerged as the water still moved all around them.

“Stuck,” he told her, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. “You’re stuck.”

Feeling the rain hitting him on the back of his neck, he was shocked when she opened her mouth and smiled.

“It’s raining.”

He knew that she didn’t understand yet. She hadn’t put it all together the way he had, but as she lay there, letting the rain water hit her face, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

“Can you float here for a minute, Beauty? I want to see if I can get your leg free,” he whispered, hoping he sounded a hell of a lot calmer than he felt.

“Yes,” she responded. Almost as though it was an afterthought, she added, “I can’t touch the bottom anymore.”

He tried to control his shaking voice. “I know. Let me check out your leg, okay?”

“Okay.”

Moving to where her leg was pulling down under the water, he told himself it was as simple as getting down there and getting her free. As he looked over to where her head lay half in the water with the rain falling down around her, he closed his eyes and sent out a prayer, hoping that he would be able to fix it whatever he found beneath the surface.

When he opened his eyes, he took a deep breath and dove under the water. With the clouds covering the sun and the rain hitting the surface, seeing what he was looking for was a difficult fucking task. Finally, he zeroed in on the problem.

Her foot and dress was wedged between not one but two boulders under the surface. Fuck! This is not fucking good. Swimming over to it, he grabbed the material and yanked it hard, feeling her also try and pull at it from above. The fucker wouldn’t budge. Fuck!

Feeling his breath leaving him, he pushed himself from the bottom back up to the surface. When his head broke free, he took a gasping gulp of air and watched as she craned her head up toward him.

“Still stuck?” she asked softly.

Moving quickly up to the side of her head, he tried to calm his breathing as the rain now beat down on them. Reaching out, he stroked his hand over her hair, pushing the hopeless words from his mouth. “Yes, you’re still stuck.”

“It’s raining harder, Phillipe.”

This time, he knew that she realized what was going on.

“Yeah, it fucking is.” His voice cracked over the admission. He took a moment and reminded himself that panicking would not do either of them any good. “I’m going to try again in just a second. We’ll get you free. Don’t worry,” he said, trying to convince her as well as himself.

She nodded, but he could tell her mind was starting to wonder.

“The water…it’s getting faster,” she stated almost factually.

Biting his lip to keep in the curse he wanted to scream, he instead agreed. “Yes, it’s getting faster.” Before she could say anything else, he told her, “Now, you just keep floating, okay? I’m going to go back down and try again. We’ll get this.” He moved to her feet and reaffirmed his vow. “I will fucking get this.”

Chantel didn’t answer, but as he looked back to where she lay, she closed her eyes to the rain falling steadily down upon them. Quickly, he dove back down and took a hold of her calf. Pulling as hard as his body would let him, he tried to make her foot shift just a little, but nothing happened. His lungs were burning, her foot was still stuck, and nothing had changed. Absolutely fucking nothing changed.

As soon as he surfaced, on a rushed and ragged breath, he said, “I need to go and get help.”

He didn’t have a clue who he’d get. Penelope wasn’t physically able, and anyone else was several miles away.

“No!” she cried out. As her voice cracked, she reached out a hand. “No, don’t leave me here.”

Wading up to her head, he took her cool hands. “I can’t get you free on my own, Chantel. I need to go and get help.”

“I’m scared, Phillipe. I don’t want to be here alone.”

Her voice trembled, and he felt as though someone had impaled him with a hot poker.

“Don’t leave me here.”

That was when he made a decision. He made a promise that he knew would destroy them. “Okay. I won’t leave.”

“Promise?” she demanded quickly, her voice shaking.

He stroked unsteady fingers down her cheek, and he gripped her hand tightly. “I promise.”

The sun had finally been replaced by the moon, and as the rain continued to fall on them, he moved around to where Chantel’s head was. Placing his hands beneath the water, he lifted her up so that her head was free of the now rapid current moving quicker with every passing minute. He could feel the water creeping up his body while it lapped above his waist as it covered her entire lower half.

“Phillipe?” she whispered softly.

Looking down, he could see her eyes were open, staring up at him. Battling his tears, he squeezed her head gently as he stood there completely helpless to do anything.

“Yes?” he managed to ask.

“Talk to me,” she requested.

Biting his bottom lip he tipped his head back, feeling the rain fall onto his face. How can I possibly talk to her? What am I supposed to say? She was stuck to the bottom of a river that was fucking rising, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. A river he had brought her to! A river he had put her in. I am killing her.

“Phillipe?” she murmured again. “What are you thinking?”

Feeling an uncontrollable sob tear from him, he confessed, “I’m thinking that I should never have brought you here.”

She reached back and grasped one of his hands holding her head. She was miraculous. Even in a situation like this, she was comforting him.

“No, don’t do that,” she told him firmly.

He leaned down and pressed an upside-down kiss to her lips. They were cool from her body now having been in the water for so long. As he felt her mouth part softly beneath his own, his tears fell, joining the moisture already on her cheeks.

“I’m cold,” she whispered against his mouth.

Sucking back an anguished sob he straightened his body.

“I know, Beauty,” he acknowledged. “I’m so sorry. God, am I sorry.”

He felt a shiver rack her body as her eyes closed.

“Shhh, don’t do that,” she told him.

The rain continued, and the river rose. There was absolutely nothing he could do but hold her and try to calm her. He was fucking useless.

“Don’t do what?” he asked as clearly as he could.

“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything.”

He shook his head at the absurdity of that. “I brought you here. I put you in this fucking river, Chantel. Let my guilt take place. Trust me, I deserve it.”

Her small teeth—teeth that had once bitten down on him in moments of pleasure—now bit down on her bottom lip to keep from trembling and crying.

“Guilty? What are you guilty of?”

“Everything,” he confessed as he stroked a hand down her cheek.

“Do you see the lights over there?” she asked.

Closing his eyes, he blocked out what she was telling him.

“You don’t see lights over there, Chantel. You can’t see anything,” he reminded her gently.

“Just like you can’t be guilty,” she pointed out gently.

He watched her wet lips part on a soft sigh.

“Don’t let them make a villain out of you. Don’t let them break you.”

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers again, knowing what she was trying to tell him, but the truth was the lights were there. They were coming, and it was his fault.

He raised his mouth from hers and looked into sightless eyes. “You can’t break a man that’s already broken.”

Water swirled around them, and as it moved above his waist, he firmly planted his feet and continued holding her. Her lower body pulled her down as he pulled her up. He refused to let her go. His arms were shaking from the rigid position he had been holding for some time now. Still, she lay there calm, almost resigned, as he felt his heart being torn from his chest, knowing he was watching her being pulled away from him.

He cursed God and pleaded with Him to take him instead, but he knew it was pointless. This could only end one way. As he stood there helpless, he knew that was the cruelest fate of all. He knew how this was going to fucking end, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

She had closed her eyes earlier. He guessed it was around twenty minutes ago. She hadn’t opened them or spoken since. He needed to hear her to reassure himself that she was still there, still fighting this losing battle with him.

“Chantel,” he urged softly. His throat was sore from silently crying as he gripped her head in his hands, praying he was strong enough to hold her. “Chantel.”

He now stood in water chest deep as the rain hit the back of his neck where his wet shirt clung to him. All he felt was numb.

“Wake up,” he whispered. “Come on, Beauty. It’s time to wake up.”

Eyes of gray opened. Eyes that held his soul focused as a small smile touched lips of red.

“You stay with me, okay?” he ordered firmly, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

Those same lips smiled slowly, and he felt his heart crack in two.

“It’s too cold. I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

“That’s just because they’re numb.” He tried to reassure her as a shiver racked her entire body again. Biting his lip hard, he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision to see her clearly.

“I’m not scared, Phillipe, not anymore.”

Shaking his head, he finally lost the tight grip he had on his emotions. He let the tears fall down his face as his body shook from the soul-shattering pain it was enduring.

“I’m not scared, not as long as you’re here with me.” She closed her eyes and whispered, “The water is much higher now. I can feel it against my chin.” Suddenly, she cried out, “Diva!”

The name broke free from her cool lips with a surprising burst of force.

“You must take Diva, Phillipe. Don’t let them have her. They don’t understand…” Her voice faded as the eyes that held his soul pleaded with him. “She is me, and I belong to you.”

Swallowing in as much air as he could, he pushed out the only reassurance he could now give. “Don’t you worry. I won’t let Diva go, and I won’t leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He tried to hold her higher, but he couldn’t make her move, not even an inch.

The last thing she whispered was, “Neither am I.”

As he stood there for the next thirteen-and-a-half hours, the water rose to his shoulders, far above Chantel’s chin, far above where he was able to hold her. Then, it fell away, leaving him cradling her in water up to his thighs.

She left him in a peaceful river that turned out to be the most deceptive place of all.

I am still standing behind him as the final words leave his mouth. Tears are streaming down my face, and I can feel my heart breaking for the agonizing loss he had suffered. As soon as he turns toward me, his face is etched in sorrow and pain, and his eyes are bloodshot from the tears he’s shed while laying his soul bare. I have no words for him, not one. How do you give a tortured man absolution? How do you convince him it was not his fault when he so clearly believes that it was?

As he makes his way to move by me, I reach out and grip his arm. He stops as I turn. Looking up at him, I see an expression so broken that I’m surprised he’s still able to breathe.

I offer him the only thing I am able. “She never did leave here that day.”

As his eyes search my face, his expression never wavers as he moves away from me.

“Neither did I.”