“Okay, but I don’t suppose there’s any hope of your saying any flowery stuff about me.”
She almost hoped he would write out some audacious script, because when it came to describing him, she had no clue where to begin.
Griffin took his time taking Darcy back to the Meurice. The evening was cool, but not too cold to be out for a walk. The glittering lights were beautiful, and he hoped the exercise would help her sleep. While she made the telephone calls from the bedroom, he sat at the piano and played Debussy’s “Le Mer” very softly.
Darcy waited in the doorway until he looked up. “Everyone says hello. I was afraid J. Lyle might want Twink to stay in San Francisco, but he called Christy Joy this morning, admitted he couldn’t keep up with his little girl and promised to bring her home today. I’d like to buy her a present while we’re here.”
“Sure. Does she like dolls?”
“Not really. She’ll probably skateboard and play soccer in a couple of years. She likes to draw and color, but as her father discovered, she’s a very active little girl.”
A teasing light sparkled in Griffin’s dark eyes. “Let’s buy her a drum.”
“Easy for you to say. She’ll not be banging on it in your house.”
“It was just a thought.” He was tempted to ask if she wanted children, then realized how poorly she’d react and thought better of it. “How are your folks?”
“Fine, and once I mentioned we were in Paris, they reminded me of the time the three of us were here together. No one asked any questions I couldn’t answer with the truth.”
“That’s a relief,” he replied. He played another few bars of Le Mer, and then paused. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this afternoon about having been a bird or squirrel. Do you really believe in past lives?”
“If being a squirrel qualifies, but let me ask you something. Do you feel any different than you did as a child? I realize our bodies age, but the part of you which is most you, your spirit or soul, do you feel your inner self aging?”
He played a final chord and left the bench to lean back against the piano with his arms casually folded across his chest. “No, but all the time you hear people say, ‘I’m eighty, but I don’t feel a day over twenty. It’s just seeing an old man in the mirror that’s a shock.’”
“Yes, that’s precisely what I mean, and if our spirits don’t age, why would they die?”
“Excellent question. Philosophers and theologians may have debated it for centuries, but you’ve convinced me it’s true.”
Appearing skeptical, Darcy came toward him. “Are you saying that your experience supports my theory, or are you simply trying to be agreeable?”
“Your theory makes perfect sense to me,” he swore. “I told you I was never really a child. But it sure would be helpful if we could remember what we’d learned in our last life so we’d not have to start from scratch every time we’re born.”
“Maybe if we remembered, we might mourn for what we’d lost and ruin our chances for happiness in this life.”
“A valid point, and this whole line of inquiry will give us something new to contemplate while we sit in my Zen garden.”
“Yes, I can imagine post-it notes stuck all over the back with questions worthy of further thought.”
“When we get home, remind me to leave post-it notes and pencils out there with the rake.”
“Will do.” She leaned against him. “This was a lovely day, thank you.”
He ran his fingertip along her cheek. “It’s not over yet, is it?”
In response, she unbuttoned his shirt, laid her ear upon his chest and listened closely. “Hmm, your heart’s still beating. That’s a very good sign we might hope for more.”
He wrapped his arms around her to press her closer still. Her reticence to say she cared for him when she gave affection so freely confused him completely. She’d claimed to be very particular about her partners, so he knew she didn’t just love sex. She had to care for him too, but he wished she’d just come out and admit it.
He swung her up into his arms, carried her into the bed and dropped her in the middle. “Where’s that lavender nightgown?” he asked.
“You like it?”
“Oui. You look delicious in lace, but first, let’s take that bath you jumped out of last night.”
After being out all afternoon, she did feel a mite gritty. “That sounds wonderful. Give me a minute and I’ll fill the tub.”
She entered the bathroom and looked through the bottles of salts, bubble bath, creams and perfumed oils. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she turned on the tap and added some of each to the tub. She quickly slipped off her clothes and opened the door before climbing in.