The Wife Before Me(16)
‘I’ve never been able to speak to anyone about her miscarriage,’ he admits. ‘I felt as though the back of my head exploded when you mentioned it.’
‘I never meant…’
‘I know you didn’t. And I didn’t intend to frighten you. I’m still struggling to come to terms with what happened to her on the evening she disappeared.’ He sighs, a quiet, shuddering release. ‘Or what she allowed to happen.’
‘Do you think she…?’ Elena searches for appropriate words and, finding none, leaves the question unfinished.
‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘That’s what makes it harder to endure. Meeting you has helped me to see the way forward. You can’t go back to Australia, Elena. Your future is with me. You must give me another chance.’
‘Take me home, Nicholas.’ Her head aches. She needs a darkened room and space to think.
* * *
In bed, she replays their conversation over in her mind. What did he mean when he said her future was with him? Does that equate to a proposal? If so, how can that be? Officially, he is still a married man and Amelia a missing person. Elena has checked it out. A death certificate will not be issued until an allotted time span has passed. Seven years. What a sentence to serve before a spouse is allowed to remarry.
The following night he rings her mobile. ‘Are you at home?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you alone?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I want you to be alone when you look out the window.’
A white stretch limousine is parked outside the gate. Nicholas is already striding up the garden path with a Brown Thomas carrier bag in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the other.
‘What’s going on?’ she asks when she opens the front door.
‘I’m taking you out on a special date.’ He hands the carrier bag to her. ‘Go and get dressed. Everything you need is in the bag. Don’t be long. The champagne is on ice in the limo.’
The dress he has bought for her is sheer and slim-fitting, an icy-blue shade that enhances her eyes. The weight she has lost since Isabelle’s death adds to its elegance. How could he have known her size, and that the style would suit her so perfectly? He has left nothing out: shoes, jewellery, make-up, lingerie. The wrap she drapes over her bare shoulders is made from vintage lace and feels feather-light.
Nicholas whistles between his teeth when he sees her. He has arranged the roses in a vase on the hall table. She is struck by the arrangement; it looks so casual yet, having once temped for a florist in Brisbane, she notices how each pink rose is precisely aligned with white sprigs of gypsophila and fern. The vase he has used is one of many Isabelle collected over the years and kept in a display cabinet in the living room. It seems churlish to resent him looking in that cabinet without permission when all he was doing was finding the perfect vase to display his bouquet.
The driver blinks appreciatively when he steps out to open the door for Elena. The interior of the limousine reminds her of a luxury hotel and, as Nicholas promised, the champagne is on ice. She has never felt as beautiful and as cherished.
He has booked a table in the restaurant where they first dined together. When their meal is almost over, he opens a small box and produces a ring. Blue sapphires in an antique setting. He cannot offer marriage, not yet, but he wants her by his side in Woodbine. She longs to say yes, yes, yes… but a nagging doubt persists. He remains a mystery to her, his tenderness and declarations of love at odds with his sudden unprovoked outbursts. But are they unprovoked? It’s easy to touch a nerve, as Yvonne did when she spoke yesterday about Amelia’s ability to outshine her husband, her bland words implying that such a problem would never arise with Elena. Did Yvonne make that comment deliberately? Whether she did or not, she highlighted Elena’s fear that she will always be seen as an inadequate replacement for his dead wife. Is that what Nicholas thinks? And does she want to be a replacement?
‘Amelia will never come between us, I promise.’ His ability to read her thoughts is disconcerting. ‘I want a new beginning as much as you do. We’ll sell Woodbine and buy a new house. Trust me, Elena. We’ve both been through difficult times but I know I can make you happy.’
Six
The old Portuguese church where they vow to love and cherish each other has been weathered by the prayers of many generations but she and Nicholas are alone under its arches. He will be free to marry her in another five years but, in the meantime, they will mark their commitment to each other before this lavishly adorned altar. They exchange gold rings and read the vows they have written for each other. Elena does not need a priest or registrar to perform this commitment ceremony. No bevy of bridesmaids or pews of appreciative wedding guests are necessary to give their vows the stamp of authenticity. In her mind this symbolic ritual is binding and confirms the love they have declared for each other.
At the end of their ceremony, a musician and a singer enter the church. Nicholas smiles at her surprise and holds her hands while the man plays on his classical guitar and the woman’s magnificent voice soars towards the ceiling.
‘She’s celebrating our love for each other,’ Nicholas whispers. ‘Do you feel married to me?’
‘Yes.’ Elena is overwhelmed by the beauty of the woman’s voice. ‘This is as perfect as any wedding day could possibly be.’