Page 3 of Zenith
“Not at all. It’s been a while…a ratherlongwhile. What brings you to London?”
“It’s a complicated story,” I replied, wishing I’d thought of a tale to tell him before I’d arrived.
There were some things best left alone for the good of all involved, and the circumstances I’d left behind were one of them. It was not my place to tell the world of Edward’s shame, and it would not make me a better person, nor would it soothe my broken heart. Spreading it around London would not serve any purpose other than to humiliate, and it was not in my conscience to do so. I would remain silent.
“I did wish to come and see you and your studio as you invited me to, but I’m in a bit of a bind I’m afraid,” I said. “I left Thornfield quite suddenly, and I’m not sure where I should stay.” I hesitated, embarrassed to ask for his assistance. “I was hoping you could—”
“Of course,” he declared, not waiting to hear me out as he took my bag. “You must stay a while. The studio is want to be a refuge for wayward souls now and then. Friends, artists, and backpackers—they all rotate in and out. You’re most welcome to the spare room until you decide where to go next.”
My shoulders sank in relief, and I winced slightly as I rolled the joints back and forth.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, frowning.
I sighed, not wanting to explain, but I had to tell him something. I couldn’t hide the pain from the stab wounds Bertha had inflicted upon me if I were to stay a while.
“A few weeks ago, I was set upon,” I replied uneasily. “I was stabbed twice.” To emphasize my story, I pulled the neck of my shirt aside so he could see the puckered pink lines where the blade had sunk into my flesh.
“My goodness!” Rivers exclaimed. “This didn’t happen at Thornfield?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all. I was on a trip away. I was lucky, but something changed in me after the ordeal.” The lie slipped out so easily I surprised myself, and I began to fret.
He smiled, his expression telling me he’d accepted my story wholly. “You wished to make a change? Live life more fully? Take a leap?”
I glanced at my feet, feeling ashamed of my lie. “Something of the kind. I admit I was a bit foolish.”
“Why would it be foolish, Jane?” he asked incredulously. “To want for adventure and have the courage to do whatever it takes to grasp it is not something to be ashamed of.”
“I have no money and nowhere to stay,” I countered. “Surely, adventure comes with some responsibility.”
“Don’t confuse responsibility with common sense,” he shot back with a lopsided grin. “I like you, Jane, that is no secret, and I’m glad you thought to come visit me. I have been thinking about you these past months since the retreat and wondered if you would take up my invitation. Now you are here, spirited in on the wind. It looks like you’ve had a near miss with death himself, and you must let me help you on your adventure.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, bewildered at his enthusiasm.
His smile was brilliant. “One hundred and ten percent.” Gesturing for me to follow, he went on, “Come. Let me show you the spare room, and I shall give you the personalized guided tour of the studio and apartment. It is my turn to host you, Jane. Are you hungry? There’s a fantastic Thai restaurant around the corner. I’ll order us some delivery.”
“Don’t you have any plans?” I asked as we climbed some stairs at the rear of the garage.
“Truthfully, there’s something on every night of the week in London, but even the life of the party needs a sleepy night at home every once in a while. I’m not a man who commits to going to events, Jane. I just show up.”
I raised my eyebrow and wondered if it was also a reflection on his romantic entanglements. Remembering his conduct at Thornfield, I assumed it was so. He’d made no apologies for showing his affection in our few meetings, and I could still remember the afternoon in the garden when he’d kissed me. It played on my mind, but I’d made myself clear then that I wasn’t interested in romance, and it especially held true now.
“Did you say you needed work?” he asked as he let me into the little apartment that sat over his studio.
“Yes, if you know of any,” I replied, looking over the space, which was a patchwork of miss-matched painted walls, posters, furniture, and assorted appliances. It was just as I’d imagined the home of an artist to be. A mishmash.
“Well, I don’t know anything about hotel management, but I may know a place which might be in need of a barmaid.”
“Would it be cash in hand?” I asked, thinking of the paper trail.
“Most likely. They’re a bit rough around the edges, but they are good to their staff. A plucky woman like you will have no trouble there.”
“Where is it?” I asked. “I can go and see them later.”
“My, you’re a keen thing.” Rivers opened a door just down the hall and placed my bag on the end of a little single bed. “Don’t worry about it tonight, Jane. Tomorrow night?, I’ll take you and introduce you around. For now, you can stay here. The bathroom is right across the hall, and I’ll leave you a spare key so you can let yourself in and out.” ????????
“Just like that?” I asked, more than happy to have a place to rest my weary head, though I still questioned why it had been so easy for him to offer me a refuge.
“Of course,” he replied with a shrug. “I am a good judge of character, and I know you won’t rob me blind, Jane. The first rule of living life to its fullest is don’t question the universe’s motives when she deals you a good hand. Just smile and take it.” He shook his head and pouted in jest. “It appears we have some work to do.”
“Work?”
“To free you from the shackles of modern life!” He laughed and backed away down the hall. “Make yourself at home. I have some things to finish up downstairs, and then I will buy you dinner.” When I opened my mouth to complain, he raised his finger to silence me. “No arguments. You are my guest.”
I watched him with a curious expression as he left me alone in his home wondering what I had done to deserve such a warm welcome. It was already a sight more happy here than Thornfield had ever been with its dark corners and deadly ghosts. At this thought, I glanced around the room and up and down the hall, looking for signs and omens, but I found none. All I could see was light, color, inspiration, and art. Everywhere was art, whether it be a painting, a poster, a sketch, or a photograph.
Now that I had the freedom to study Rivers’s home, I realized the entire hallway was painted with one enormous mural. An autumn scene—full of trees and nature—completely surrounded me, and it was like a tunnel of flame leading from one end to the other. It was the most wonderful thing I’d ever seen and a stark contrast to the stuffy heritage grandeur I’d been among that very morning.
For the first time in months, I had complete hope that my future would brighten. My heart was another story entirely. That would take time.
