The sun was shining, and the day was perfect.
I remember standing outside the chateau on the gravel drive, waiting for Phillipe to come and say good-bye to me.
I was still raw from the night before when he had walked away from me.
As I look back now, I can understand why he did what he did.
He didn’t want to make things harder than they already were. Although how that could have been possible, I wasn’t sure. As soon as I felt him move up beside me, my heart cracked and splintered just a fraction more. I looked up at him as he stood there beside me. He was dressed in black wool slacks and a hunter green sweater. His profile was one that I would never forget. Just over his shoulder, I saw the plaque that I had seen on my very first day here. Reaching over, I dared to touch his arm one last time.
He turned his head, looking down at me. His green eyes were distant and devoid of any emotion. The man once again locked himself away, and there was nothing I could do to help him.
Instead, I asked softly, “What does that mean?”
He looked over his shoulder before turning back to me. “Les vrais paradis sont les paradis qu’on a perdus.” His voice was so smooth and deep.
I realized in that moment just how much I would miss it. I nodded at him as he turned to look back out at the vineyards.
“It means, The true paradises are paradises we have lost.”
Staring up at him, I willed him to look at me one more time, but he did not. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, and I felt the dismissal and distance more than I ever had before.
Moving down the steps, I made my way to the small red Toyota that I had rented and climbed inside. I refused to cry in front of him, but as I pulled away, I wiped tears that had finally escaped from my eyes.
As I drove farther down the gravel path, I looked in my rearview mirror to see a haunted man staring back at me and as my gaze moved to the top window, I could have sworn that I once again saw the curtain move. I knew I was leaving him where his heart was—in the chateau that was slowly crumbling into the ground but rested only miles from the place where he’d lost his soul many months before.
I left him there with her.
I place the card down on the carpet beside me and reach out a trembling hand. Pulling the picture out of the box, I move to grip the other side and turn it to face me. Sitting back on my heels, I stare silently at the image looking back at me.
There, seated on the soft chair that he sat in up in his studio, is me. He painted me in the dress I had worn that final night. I had my legs crossed, and I was sitting opposite a mirror.
I move in closer to trace over the image he so patiently and, as far as I can see, lovingly created. That’s when I notice the image in the mirror. He painted me looking away from the distorted reflection, but as my eyes zoom in to look at every tiny detail, I notice the hair is darker. In fact, it is black, and the face is slightly different as well. He managed to capture me and her in one painting with Diva resting by my feet.
I am entranced, and as my eyes become misty, I grip my hands in my lap and let the tears stream down my cheeks. I cry for everything I learned during my months with him, and as I stare at the painting before me—painted by a man I can tell is so obviously in love—I cry for everything we cannot be.
Wiping the tears from my face, I blink twice, clearing my vision. That’s when I see, down in the bottom right corner, one of the most famous signatures in the world scrawled beneath two simple lines.
Love looks not with the eyes
but with the mind.
The very words she gave to him. As I sit there alone in my apartment, I let my mind drift a million miles away to the place where I left my heart.
Into the empty room I’m left kneeling in, I whisper, “I love you, too.”
THE END
Special Thanks
It must be said, as always, a huge thank you to all of my fans. Without you I wouldn’t be able to do what I love. So I thank you all from the bottom of my heart and look forward to writing many more stories for you.
Also, a GIANT thank you to all the bloggers who took the time to read and review Blind Obsession. I appreciate everything you do, not only for me, but the Indie Writing Community at large.
Thank you to my wonderful editor Jovana. Your genius cannot be matched and what you did with this story was beautiful. Thank you for working so patiently with me. Your knowledge blows me away.
Finally, it was said to me just recently, by a lady I work with, that we use a small village to get to a point where the book is presentable to the world. So I must thank my fellow villagers – Ninj, Mendy, Brit & Chele. Not only have you been there now through all three of my books, but you are currently working with me on my fourth.
Oh and let me not forget the newest member to the world I inhabit, and she is currently cyber holding my hand and reminding me I am really a calm person deep down inside, C. Thank you for reading and critiquing Blind Obsession and pushing me when I needed pushing. I promise a 24 round paintbrush is in the mail!
Xx Ella