The Virgin
Page 72
“Life insurance policy?”
Juliette nodded. “I took the money from the ring and bought insurance. My mother’s the beneficiary on my policy. If I die and it’s ruled an accident, then there would be enough money to take care of my mother for at least ten years. People drown in the ocean all the time here and their bodies wash up on the beach.”
“There has to be another way,” Kingsley said.
“There isn’t. If there were another way I would have found it by now.” She took his hand and he wished she hadn’t. Her long slender fingers felt as if they belonged in his grasp. And the time would come when he would have to let her go again.
“I’m not certain I can go through with it. I am Catholic, after all.”
“This is a new feeling I’m experiencing now. I’ve never been grateful for someone’s Catholicism before.”
Juliette laughed softly and squeezed his hand.
“In the car on the way to the house, you took off your knife and gave it to me. Were you hoping I’d use it to kill you?” he asked.
“All I wanted from you was a night with a man of my choosing. A night with a man I wanted and who I owed nothing to. A night with a man who didn’t own me.” She paused for a long time before speaking again. “Before I died.”
Juliette stepped out of the reach of the tide. Side by side they walked back toward Kingsley’s hut.
“You should know,” she said, squeezing his hand, “he doesn’t abuse me. The pain he’s caused me has been the kind you and I both enjoy. And he’s faithful to me. He and his wife haven’t been intimate in years. He has no other lover, only me.”
“He owns you,” Kingsley said. “He’s rich. Beyond rich. It would be pocket change for him to pay for your mother’s medical treatment.”
“I made the offer. He accepted it.”
“He should have helped your mother without making you pay for it with your body. You grew up with his own daughters, for God’s sake. You should have been like a daughter to him.”
“I never said he was a saint. I only said he doesn’t abuse me. I live in luxury. Anything I want he gives me.”
“Except your freedom.”
“Except my freedom.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I shouldn’t complain,” she continued. “It’s like a marriage of convenience. How many women out there have made the same bargain with a wealthy man that I have?”
“But it’s not marriage. If you were married, the law would be on your side. You could divorce him, take half his money and pay for your mother’s treatments yourself instead of putting rocks in your pockets and walking into the ocean.”
“I should have asked him to marry me then. Oh wait, he’s already married. There goes that idea.”
Her flippant tone only made Kingsley angrier.
“Even an indentured servant knows when his service will end. How long will your mother need to be in the hospital?”
“They say she’s treatment resistant. And self-harming. There is no cure for what she has. Only constant monitoring and good care.”
“So you will be his...”
“Until the day she dies,” Juliette said. “Or until I do.”
“Do you ever see her?”
“Oh yes, twice a year I’m allowed to visit her for a week. She’s happy where she is, and safe.”
“Does she know what you do for her?”
Juliette shook her head. “She thinks Gérard’s father is still in love with her, that the family pays for her care because of what they were. I haven’t disabused her of the knowledge. It comforts her.”
“You are a good daughter. But you do too much for her. I don’t know of any mother in the world who would ask her only child to make the sacrifice you have.”
“Sacrifice? You’ve seen the house I live in, the clothes I wear, the car he lets me drive.”
“His house. His clothes. His car. Your life.”
“Yes,” she said. “They are. But I try not to think about it that way. My mother lives in a dreamworld. I try to live in my own.”
“Dreaming and lying to yourself are very different things.”
“I know. I have always known,” she said in her flawless, elegant French. Je sais. Je l’ai toujours su.
“What would you do with your freedom if you had it?” Kingsley asked. “If your mother were cured tomorrow, what would you do?”
“Go away from here,” she said. “Travel for a while. Then I would go to school.”
“School? For what?”
“Business,” she said. “I’m good with money. I handle all of his.”
Kingsley laughed and the sound carried across the ocean and back.
“What?” she asked.
“I never would have expected that from you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t be so surprised. I have an eighteen-year-old assistant who is a computer hacker.”
Juliette laughed. “You have an eighteen year-old girl working for you? Do I want to know what it is you do?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I were you. Only because it would take so long to explain.”
“Is she just an assistant? Or more?”
“Only an assistant. She flirts with me, but I remind her she’s young enough to be my daughter. I hope she’s doing her homework while I’m here. Usually you have to make her get off the computer to eat. She’s always up to something. But I can’t scold too much. So am I.”
Juliette nodded. “I took the money from the ring and bought insurance. My mother’s the beneficiary on my policy. If I die and it’s ruled an accident, then there would be enough money to take care of my mother for at least ten years. People drown in the ocean all the time here and their bodies wash up on the beach.”
“There has to be another way,” Kingsley said.
“There isn’t. If there were another way I would have found it by now.” She took his hand and he wished she hadn’t. Her long slender fingers felt as if they belonged in his grasp. And the time would come when he would have to let her go again.
“I’m not certain I can go through with it. I am Catholic, after all.”
“This is a new feeling I’m experiencing now. I’ve never been grateful for someone’s Catholicism before.”
Juliette laughed softly and squeezed his hand.
“In the car on the way to the house, you took off your knife and gave it to me. Were you hoping I’d use it to kill you?” he asked.
“All I wanted from you was a night with a man of my choosing. A night with a man I wanted and who I owed nothing to. A night with a man who didn’t own me.” She paused for a long time before speaking again. “Before I died.”
Juliette stepped out of the reach of the tide. Side by side they walked back toward Kingsley’s hut.
“You should know,” she said, squeezing his hand, “he doesn’t abuse me. The pain he’s caused me has been the kind you and I both enjoy. And he’s faithful to me. He and his wife haven’t been intimate in years. He has no other lover, only me.”
“He owns you,” Kingsley said. “He’s rich. Beyond rich. It would be pocket change for him to pay for your mother’s medical treatment.”
“I made the offer. He accepted it.”
“He should have helped your mother without making you pay for it with your body. You grew up with his own daughters, for God’s sake. You should have been like a daughter to him.”
“I never said he was a saint. I only said he doesn’t abuse me. I live in luxury. Anything I want he gives me.”
“Except your freedom.”
“Except my freedom.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I shouldn’t complain,” she continued. “It’s like a marriage of convenience. How many women out there have made the same bargain with a wealthy man that I have?”
“But it’s not marriage. If you were married, the law would be on your side. You could divorce him, take half his money and pay for your mother’s treatments yourself instead of putting rocks in your pockets and walking into the ocean.”
“I should have asked him to marry me then. Oh wait, he’s already married. There goes that idea.”
Her flippant tone only made Kingsley angrier.
“Even an indentured servant knows when his service will end. How long will your mother need to be in the hospital?”
“They say she’s treatment resistant. And self-harming. There is no cure for what she has. Only constant monitoring and good care.”
“So you will be his...”
“Until the day she dies,” Juliette said. “Or until I do.”
“Do you ever see her?”
“Oh yes, twice a year I’m allowed to visit her for a week. She’s happy where she is, and safe.”
“Does she know what you do for her?”
Juliette shook her head. “She thinks Gérard’s father is still in love with her, that the family pays for her care because of what they were. I haven’t disabused her of the knowledge. It comforts her.”
“You are a good daughter. But you do too much for her. I don’t know of any mother in the world who would ask her only child to make the sacrifice you have.”
“Sacrifice? You’ve seen the house I live in, the clothes I wear, the car he lets me drive.”
“His house. His clothes. His car. Your life.”
“Yes,” she said. “They are. But I try not to think about it that way. My mother lives in a dreamworld. I try to live in my own.”
“Dreaming and lying to yourself are very different things.”
“I know. I have always known,” she said in her flawless, elegant French. Je sais. Je l’ai toujours su.
“What would you do with your freedom if you had it?” Kingsley asked. “If your mother were cured tomorrow, what would you do?”
“Go away from here,” she said. “Travel for a while. Then I would go to school.”
“School? For what?”
“Business,” she said. “I’m good with money. I handle all of his.”
Kingsley laughed and the sound carried across the ocean and back.
“What?” she asked.
“I never would have expected that from you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t be so surprised. I have an eighteen-year-old assistant who is a computer hacker.”
Juliette laughed. “You have an eighteen year-old girl working for you? Do I want to know what it is you do?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I were you. Only because it would take so long to explain.”
“Is she just an assistant? Or more?”
“Only an assistant. She flirts with me, but I remind her she’s young enough to be my daughter. I hope she’s doing her homework while I’m here. Usually you have to make her get off the computer to eat. She’s always up to something. But I can’t scold too much. So am I.”
