Wake Me with a Kiss Read online

  "Oh, poppycock. Your sister would certainly have nothing against it. I should call her now. We could give a small dinner this evening?"

  The question was purely rhetorical because she didn't wait for an answer from us. Rather she gave a scrutinizing look at her wristwatch, turned on her heels, and disappeared behind one of the countless doors which opened off the entrance hall.

  "Whew. What was that?"

  "Allow me to introduce you to the way my mom welcomes long overdue guests. I know, a tornado has nothing on her."

  My appalled expression led him to explain further. "All fun aside. Her heart is in the right place and in 99% of all cases, she means well. Now you have experienced her in action. Can you understand why it's easier for me with you at my side?"

  "Honestly, no. Aren't you going to be even more the center of attention with me around? That dinner this evening - for which, by the way, I have nothing to wear - is probably only happening because you showed up here with me."

  "Believe me, it's better this way. And for your evening wear, we can borrow something from my sister. Emily lives in the house here and she must be about the same dress size as you. Unfortunately, I can't send you to Rodeo Drive today, Pretty Woman. Maybe another time," he joked, as crescent-shaped dimples formed in his cheeks.

  Mitch knew how to wrap a woman around his little finger. To be sure, I was resisting approving of his behavior but I was being drawn in.

  After I met his mother, Mitch gave me a tour of the premises on the first floor. I immediately knew what my favorite room was.

  The library seemed to house thousands of books on massive three-foot oak shelving. I slowly approached the individual cabinets and looked more closely at the book spines.

  With some of the books I would linger for a while, take them out, and submerge myself in a world which had offered me a consoling refuge after the death of my parents.

  In particular, I was taken in by the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm. The notion that you find a happy end at the close of every story is so uplifting.

  Why couldn't life follow this well-worn pattern and allow us an ending where everything comes out right? All the ordeals, the blows of fate, and the challenges would be easier to bear if you knew everything conformed to a set of rules. In the end, everything resolves into happiness.

  "Sleeping Beauty? Are you daydreaming again?" Mitch pulled me from my philosophical diversions.

  "Hmm? Oh, no. I'm right here," I answered absently.

  "Shall we continue with the tour? There are still some rooms I would like to show you. Since you'll only be here a short time, I won't have to show you everything."

  And there it was again. That unexpected blow to my stomach which catapulted me back to the here and now, regardless of the consequences. If I wanted to emerge from this liaison without injury, I would need to erect a protective wall around myself and overcome these daydreams. At least for the next seven days.

  "What is it now? Can we keep going?" Mitch became obviously impatient.

  "Sure," I answered straightforwardly.

  "Very nice. Then the next best thing to show you is the kitchen. Don't worry, you won't have the pleasure of cooking for me. We have staff for that. You should know that Martha does not particularly appreciate it when anybody intrudes into her territory. She has always been the cook in this house, as long I can remember. Not even Mom dares to cross paths with her. Hard to imagine with her temperament. Don't you think?"

  "I do. Of course," I managed a short comment.

  After Mitch closed the library door behind me, he stopped and looked at my face more closely. "Are you ok? Are you still getting pricks of conscience because of this thing with my family? Believe me, we're not hurting anybody," he hastened to conjure away the worry lines from my forehead.

  "No, that's not it. I'm incredibly exhausted and I would really like to freshen up and relax before I have to submit to all your family's questions. Maybe you could show me my room and we could postpone the guided tour for another time?" I needed to find an escape from being together with Mitch so I could finally find some peace of mind.

  "If that's all you need. Come on," shrugging his shoulders, he accepted my excuses and set out to show me my room on the upper floor.

  I followed him up the stairs without saying anything more and paused for a minute on the landing while Mitch kept going higher.

  The entrance hall glowed like something from a fairy tale. I had never seen a house like this in my whole life, to say nothing of living in one. I gripped my hands firmly on the railing while an inner voice advised me to keep going and not take too much delight in the splendor of the interiors.

  Hastily, I followed Mitch to the upper floor and reached him as he stopped in front of a room and gestured for me to come to his side.

  "Well, what do you say? Can you hold out for one week?" as he opened the door to a dream from "The Arabian Nights." My gaze wandered through the room and I could not escape my astonishment.

  As if in a trance, I stepped over the threshold and purposefully headed for the enormous canopy bed which occupied a predominant share of the room. Without stopping to think, I stroked the exquisite silken bedding, which felt unnaturally soft against my skin.

  "This is for me? Just for me?" I finally dared to ask because I couldn't bring myself to believe it.

  "Yes. If you like it? We do have additional guest rooms, you should know. Although my opinion is that this one fits you perfectly. What do you think? Do you like it?"

  In the meantime, Mitch had come within a few steps of me. His bewitching scent of sandalwood and a breath of fresh lemon wafted into my nose and started me thinking of things that I thought I had sworn off long ago.

  In order to not completely lose control of my senses, I tried to free myself from his immediate vicinity and hurried to the big casement window, which was wide open.

  I was not prepared for the sight which met me there. A sea of roses, asters, and anemones in all conceivable colors lay at my feet. Beyond the flowers was an expanse of green as large as the floor beds which invited you to lie down in it.

  Everything was incredibly peaceful. I couldn't believe that we were only a few miles from the city of Chicago. Just unbelievable. Unbelievably beautiful.

  "Your room has an ensuite bathroom, which only you will use for the length of your stay. If you like, I can quickly take your luggage up and let you get some rest?"

  "That would be great. When will dinner be?"

  "Certainly not before 8 o'clock. We should go find my sister about 7 o'clock to get some suitable clothes. So you have two hours for yourself. Rest well! The evening will be exhausting." With these words, Mitch left the room and I let myself fall on the bed.

  Could this really be true or was it only a dream? I decided to pinch myself since I bruised easily and would know if it wasn't a dream, and then I looked around more closely at the four walls surrounding me.

  The Baroque style of the wallpaper with the rust-colored scrolls on the ocher-colored background didn't exactly correspond to my tastes.

  In contrast to the remaining room decor, the furniture seemed to be of clearly later vintage. Next to the wonderful canopy bed, the room held a large clothes wardrobe and a small dresser.

  For the few pieces of clothing in my suitcase, the dresser would be fully adequate. In a single bound, I jumped from the feather bedding, freed myself from my sneakers and my sweaty clothing and stepped into my own bathroom.

  My fear that the Baroque style would be reflected here in golden water faucets and other such kitsch thankfully proved to not be the case. Rather, the room followed the trends of the last few years. Excepting a tiny detail which made me very happy - a freestanding bath - everything was fairly normal.

  Without further ado, I decided to take a leisurely bath. Scented oils and candles stood at the ready, inviting me in. I still had enough time. So I submerged myself, closed my eyes, and began to daydream.

  After my hands and feet were compl
etely wrinkled, I pulled myself together and climbed out of the tub. My watch showed that I had spent somewhat more time in the tub than planned. So I hastily snatched a towel, loosely wrapped myself in it, and opened the door to my room.

  As I stepped past the door and looked around for my suitcase, which Mitch was supposed to have brought up in the meantime, I was utterly shocked as I noticed that he was sitting on my bed and was apparently waiting for me.

  Out of pure fright, the towel - what else could happen? - slipped to the floor and I stood in front of him, stark naked. As if this moment weren't embarrassing enough, the idiot actually started laughing.

  Yes, he laughed. And how. There was no stopping him. While I furiously fished the towel off the floor and slammed the door shut behind me, I heard him say, completely out of breath,

  "Oh, God. Please excuse me, Stacy. I'm really sorry, but this situation is such a cliché that I just couldn't stop myself. It's like in a Hollywood blockbuster," he wiped the tears from his eyes and rose up from my bed.

  "I'm happy you're so amused. However, I would like to know what you're doing in my room. I don't remember having asked you in," I answered stubbornly, as I vigorously crossed my arms in front of my breasts.

  Do you know how late it is? We're supposed to be with Emily at 7 o'clock, in case you don't remember. Now it's already 7:30," he retorted like a know-it-all.

  Another look at my watch and I realized that not only had I spent more time in the water than I meant to, but I had spent all the time I had available. Crap. Crap. Crap.

  "And if you keep me longer now, we're going to be late for dinner. Would you like that?" I snapped. "I'll be ready in five minutes. Would you please wait in front of the door so I can put something on?"

  Oh, I don't care what you do. I've had a good look at your body so it's not a big deal now. Don't you think?"

  "Ha. That's just like you. Nothing doing. Out you go and you better not barge in here again. If you do..." I lifted my finger threateningly. But before I could say anything else, Mitch placated me.

  "Ok, fine. I'm going. But hurry up!"

  "So you're Mitch's new girlfriend," Emily came right to the point as she inspected me from top to bottom.

  Mitch had brought me to the blonde beauty who was in her early twenties. He introduced us briefly, and then disappeared fairly soon after. With women's business, he wouldn't be much help he explained before he left me, perplexed about what would be coming next.

  Well, great. Here I stood at a loss about having to invent a consistent story out of thin air about how we met and fell in love.

  Damn it! I wasn't any actress. What had Mitch imagined? Not only had he brought me into this awkward situation, no, now he expected that I would answer all his sister's questions, too. He couldn't be serious.

  "Funny. Usually my brother doesn't bring his girlfriends home with him. You two must be really serious," as she scrutinized me as if she were looking at yogurt whose best-by date had been weeks earlier.

  "Kind of," I feebly answered.

  "How long have you known each other?"

  "Oh, not long at all. Maybe one, two months?"

  "Maybe? Don't people usually know more precisely? I mean, they start counting at the beginning, days, weeks and especially months. At the end of each stage, there's a big party."

  "I'm sure you're right. With us, it's been different though. Oh look, how time flies," I tried to divert Emily by pointing at her watch with a look of shock. "We're going to have to get a move on. Don't you think? The best thing will be to continue the conversation at dinner."

  Although it obviously didn't make her particularly happy, she stopped bombarding me with her questions and set about finding a couple suitable dinner dresses from her walk-in closet.

  On the labels were names of leading designers, such as Gucci, Dior, and Chanel. I stopped breathing after projecting the costs of the assets which hung here, tightly packed.

  "I do have a beautiful summer dress from Versace. It's actually from the latest collection. If it doesn't bother you, I'd be happy to let you wear it for this evening."

  "Oh, that would be perfectly fine. Would you maybe also have shoes that could fit me? My travel bag doesn't have a lot in it," I confessed, embarrassed.

  "But of course." With a scrutinizing look, she took an imaginary measurement and finally said "8"?

  I nodded appreciatively and stayed alone in the beautiful room with all the dresses, pants, blouses and coats from the past season, while Emily set off on a search for sandals that would fit me.

  "What do you think of these Manolo Blahniks? They might go well with the dress. They're actually a little tight for me. That's why I've never worn them. If they fit, you're welcome to keep them."

  Genuine Blahniks? For me? Until now, I always got my shoes from the bargain bin at Walmart. I had never come across Blahniks there. Mitch's sister didn't know me and she was willing to give me such expensive shoes?

  "Thanks," I said in a subdued voice.

  "Well, try them on first."

  They fit like a glove. After I put on the dress, applied makeup, and styled my hair, I dared to take a final look in the large full-length mirror in Emily's dressing room.

  Maybe fairy tales do come true. At least for a limited time. I only turned away from the mirror when Emily called attention to the fact that we had to go.

  A final look at the green summer dress and the matching sandals with the dressy straps. A strand of hair had fallen into my face. I let it stay while I reminded myself that experiences like this are mostly of a brief duration. With Cinderella, the charm expired at midnight and she was again transformed into the poor girl with ashes on her cheeks. Would it happen that way for me as well?

  Chapter 5

  "Will you please pass the sauce? Stacy?"

  "Oh. What?" I startled.

  "The sauce. Please," Mitch demanded again.

  I passed him the small porcelain bowl and lost myself again in my thoughts.

  So far the evening had gone really well. When Emily and I had arrived punctually in the large dining room, Mitch came to my side and kissed me affectionately on the forehead. The feeling of security which flooded through my body warmed me from inside.

  By this time, the other Havishams had already appeared. Besides his father James, there was also Mitch's sister Sue and her fiancé Bob, all come to meet the woman who had apparently succeeded in domesticating Mitch, as they called me in amusement.

  James Havisham was a lean old man with a mustache, who reminded me all too much of our neighbor's dog Rufus, a giant schnauzer. In contrast to his wife, he remained rather distant, merely offering his hand as a greeting.

  Sue and Bob appeared to be just as skeptical as Emily and they drilled us immediately with a number of questions. While my forehead broke out into a cold sweat and my stomach felt as if I were on a roller coaster, Mitch came across as completely confident.

  He really had thought of everything. Without batting an eye, he reported to his siblings how we had allegedly met. He laid it on too thick in places - from my point of view - but his audience hung spellbound on his every word.

  Abigail joined the group so she could learn more about the event of the year firsthand. The wedding of her daughter in a few days was pushed into the background, which didn't seem to especially bother anybody, not even herself.

  The schnauzer, sorry, Mitch's father sat down at the table in the interim and with the exclamation, "the soup is getting cold!", he drew our attention towards himself. Without a further word, everybody hastened to their places.

  Mitch held a chair for me and I gladly sank down into it. A tremendous strain fell away from me. Mitch had been perfectly prepared. As if he had planned this scene for a long time. Was I mistaken or was he now somewhat withdrawn? A worry line etched his smooth forehead and his expression darkened. What was he thinking about?

  When he noticed me staring at him, he smiled as if it were nothing. He reached tenderly for my hand and lai
d his own on it.

  This gesture contained something so reassuring and comforting that I stopped thinking about his facial expression. I enjoyed the moment and listened to the tentative dinner conversation.

  "Sue, how are the wedding preparations going? Is everything arranged?" Abigail asked her daughter with interest.

  "Well, I think everything is ready. If Bob's parents arrive from Houston in one piece, I'll be happy," she calmly answered. For a bride who was about to step before the altar in three days, she was pretty chill about it.

  Would I have behaved the same way in Sue's place? I definitely would not have been as cool. I would be running around like a chicken with its head cut off for days - oh, what am I saying? - for weeks, going through checklists a hundred times, and on the day of the wedding, I would break out into a torrent of tears in the early hours.

  "That sounds very good. If you still need help, please let me know, dear."

  It didn't matter what the day of my wedding would be like, something would still be missing: the presence of my loving parents, who were there for me and gave me strength and who would have helped me with the preparations.

  Wistfully, I remembered my last days with my parents before they died in the terrible car accident. We had just had a wonderful time in Europe. A few days before school began, we came home and Mom and I got on each other's nerves because of the ironing.

  The ironing. Yeesh. In retrospect, it's hard to believe that we fought over such a trifle.

  The deputy who stood before our door in the middle of the night had been a rank beginner and it felt like an eternity as he tried to find the right words.

  As he finally explained what had happened, I fell into a deep black hole. From then on I would be completely alone. There was nobody else. When I moved to my aunt's, I lost my home, my friends, and my familiar surroundings. Aunt Anne was the only living relative who could take me on.

  Damn. I had completely forgotten about her. I kept putting off calling her. I should fix that immediately. She was certain to be terribly worried about me.