The Stranger in the Mirror(48)

Julian is asleep next to me when I awake in the morning. I realize that I have slept more soundly than I can remember and without any bad dreams. I lean on my elbow and rest my head against my open hand, watching him. His hair is tousled, and he’s on his stomach, his face toward me. He’s so handsome, I think, and shiver with delight as I remember last night’s lovemaking. My shoulders start to feel cold, so I lie back and pull the covers up around me. The movement awakens Julian, and he moves over until our bodies are touching.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He kisses my neck as he whispers the words.

“Hi,” I say, feeling suddenly shy.

“I love you. Last night was incredible.”

I smile and snuggle closer to him, feeling like I could go back to sleep again. After a few minutes, Julian turns away and gets out of bed. I immediately think I’ve done something wrong, disappointed him somehow. I sit up, holding the sheet over my breasts, and watch as he puts on a robe and walks to the bureau. He opens the top drawer, removes a small red velvet box, and comes back to sit next to me on my side of the bed.

“I’ve waited to give this back to you,” he says, handing the box to me. “Now seems like the right time.”

I take it from him and close my eyes, holding it for a few seconds before opening it. I know it must be my engagement ring, and I try to visualize it, to bring the memory back before I look at it, but there is nothing. Sighing, I open my eyes and lift the lid, and there it sits, the ring I wondered about when I looked at the wedding band on Julian’s finger last night. I’m struck by its beauty—a magnificently faceted emerald flanked on either side by brilliant diamonds in the shape of sparkling triangles. I look from the ring to Julian, stunned by its opulence.

“It’s gorgeous,” I say in wonder. “This was mine?”

Julian nods. “Your engagement ring,” he says, taking it from the box and slipping it onto my finger. It fits perfectly, and I hold my hand out with fingers spread apart to admire it. Julian puts his hand under my chin, lifting my face to his, and kisses me on the lips. Then he puts his hand in the pocket of his robe and takes something out. “This is your wedding ring. You left them both on the dresser.” He opens his hand, and resting in his palm is a thin gold band. I remove the emerald ring and hold my hand out so that he can place the wedding ring on my finger. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Julian,” I say, “I’d like to move back into our bedroom.”

His smile goes from ear to ear, and he hugs me. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

We hear the sound of Valentina’s voice, and Julian stands up. “She’s up,” he says. “I’ll take care of her. You take your time. You have some robes in the armoire.” He points to the tall piece near the window as he leaves the bedroom.

I throw the covers back and get up. The room is quiet, and as I walk to the armoire my footsteps make no sound on the thick Oriental rug that covers most of the wood floor. Taking a blue silk robe from its hanger, I slip it on and tie the belt around my waist. I see the room with different eyes this morning. The ceilings are tall, just as in all the rooms in the house, and in one corner are two deep-cushioned chairs in off-white linen. I wonder if Julian and I used to sit in them and talk before we went to bed.

Enough, I think, and head to the guest room I’ve been occupying. There’s not very much to move, and I begin carrying to our shared bedroom the things I want to keep. I decide to leave some of the clothes I had in Philadelphia; they don’t seem like they are me any longer. I’ll ask Nancy if she knows anyone who could use them, and if not, I’ll give them to charity.

After I’ve emptied the closet and drawers, I take the stack of books from the night table and turn to leave. But then I remember the book Valentina made for me. I drop the books in my arms and open the drawer to retrieve it. But as I open the drawer wider, I frown. It’s empty. I scan the room. The book is nowhere to be seen. I know I put it there. Didn’t I? Frantically I begin to search the room, opening every drawer, running my hands along their insides. I even check the bathroom, flinging open the vanity doors and drawers. Nothing. I sit on the bed and try to think. Did I put it somewhere else? No. I’m sure the last place I put it was in that drawer.

But I can’t think about the book right now. I need to go downstairs for breakfast with Julian and Valentina.

Valentina is sitting at the table with a glass of orange juice in front of her, and Julian is at the stove, his back to me.

“Mommy! Daddy’s making waffles,” she says happily. “I want ice cream on top instead of syrup.”

Julian and I laugh. Ever since she outgrew her milk allergy, she asks for ice cream at every opportunity. “I don’t think so,” I say. “We can have ice cream later. Promise.”

“I know. I was kidding.” Valentina laughs now.

“Need some help over there?” I ask.

Julian looks over his shoulder at me. “No, no. You sit. I’m serving this morning.”

I sit next to Valentina, and before I can ask, Julian brings me a cup of coffee. “Thank you.” I take a sip of the strong brew—too strong for my taste, but it’s the way Julian likes it.

“Here we are,” Julian says, setting down two plates of waffles, one for Valentina and one for me. He gets his own dish and takes a seat. Valentina chatters away about a movie she and the babysitter watched last night, talking nonstop. After I had been back a few weeks, we let the nanny go. “So,” Julian says when Valentina takes a breath. “What’s new with school?”