Page 50 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
Violet took a moment to clear her thoughts. To ease the tension in her heart. “You’ve told me all these things… things Jasper wouldnevertell me himself. But… I don’t know what you expect me to do now? I’m not going to save Jasper from anything. That’s not… This isn’t some fairy tale. I’m not his knight in shining armor.”
René sat forward once more, his face serious. “No, Violet. I’m not suggesting that you can or should solve his problems. My message to you is simply this—don’t let him push you away becausehethinks that’s best. Because he’s wrong. Pushing someone he loves away is not the right answer. Whether he’s trying to protect himself, or even you. He’s wrong. I’ve seen the way he lives. I’ve borne witness to it for the past five years, and it’s no way for a person to exist. This thing that he’s doing… It isnotthe correct answer.”
“I can’t keep forcing myself on him—”
“That’s notit, my dear. Even though you two were in the middle of some kind of tiff when we first met, the feelings Jasper expressed were amazing. I’d never seen him so alive.Angry. A nice, healthy emotion. Glorious. My typical visits with him are nothing like how that day was. Usually he’s skulking about, quiet, too thin and dusty like the ghost of a young man rather than a living one. The only other time I’ve ever seen him exuding such raw emotion was when he told me the story about you, which was how I could easily put two and two together.”
“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Violet asked, desperate for an answer.
René paused, the stillness of the moment emphasized by the intensity of his deep, deep eyes. It was as if everything around them fell into shadows and silence, and Violet couldn’t see or hear anything else.
“I do,” he said. “But he does not know that I know. And he should not.”
Violet sucked in a breath, her heart pounding. “Can… Can you tellme?”
He shook his head, his lips turning up in a soft smile. “It is not my place.”
“But you just told me everything about your arrangement. Why not this, too?”
“Because these trivial worldly matters are of no consequence, and I would not have them stand in the way of a greater reckoning—particularly one that is long overdue. And the signs are unmistakable.”
Slumping back in her chair, Violet let the weight of his enigmatic declaration sink in. Reckonings and signs. It all sounded like things a fortune teller might say while trying to assure a person that they haven’t just wasted their money. She looked up to find René staring back at her, his rich irises drawing her in.They’re like… an infinity mirror.Innocently looking at her on the surface, but watching her from the depths of an unknowable scrutiny.
She straightened, knowing he wouldn’t speak more about Jasper’s condition. She felt it instinctively, somehow. That path of conversation was closed off. This sickness was the root of everything: an impenetrable force field she couldn’t vanquish. And what Violet saw on the kitchen floor that day… That unexplainable thing.
“How did you and Jasper meet?” Violet asked. “How did this arrangement come about?”
“He put an advertisement for an acting job in the city paper. Apparently, I am the third person he interviewed. Third time’s the charm?”
“So they say…”
“After we got to know each other a bit, he told me he needed someone very good-looking, mannish and tall, because, quote, ‘that’s what everyone likes.’ I always found that statement amusing. As if Jasper himself in all his endearing, innocent and gangly glory wouldn’t be enough. But… I suppose this is partly attributable to his condition.”
“Listen,” Violet said, folding her arms, “you’re not allowed to casually refer to his ‘condition’ if you’re not willing to tell me what it is.”
René lifted one brow, scrutinizing her again with his inexplicable stare. He grinned. “Understood. Violet Ainsworth, I do love your tenacity. You remind me of someone I knew a very long time ago. He possessed the same fiery temperament. And freckles.”
24
Now
“Oh no…”
As Violet approached Gram’s cottage, she recognized the vehicle parked out front and sighed—all hopes of a relaxing bath and glass of wine upon entering the house, dashed.
She’d gone around town after her strange but mildly insightful coffee date with René, making stops at the artisan market for her favorite wine and cheese, and The Clean Chemist for some new candle scents, herby soaps and bath salts. The owner of the small, eclectic shop had regularly consulted with Gloria for inspiration on mixing new fragrances. Violet left the shop as the proud owner of a gorgeous hand-poured candle set in a powdery pinkish glass jar.
The scent was peony and eucalyptus—the last combination Gloria had suggested before falling ill. The shop owner gave it to Violet as a gift.
She pulled up behind the little red pick-up truck, parked, then made her way to the cottage. Once she was staring her uninvited guest in his blue eyes, she tried hard not to frown. “Can I help you with something?”
“Can we talk?” Freddie asked. “Just for a darn minute.”
“Why aren’t you running the grocery store? It’s Saturday—”
“I have employees, Violet. I don’t need to be there every second. Can I have a little of your precious fancy-pants time?”
“Not if you ask like that.” Violet huffed, moving past him and toward the front door.
