“Oh, sweet heavens above,” Ildaria breathed.
Marguerite nodded. “I gather he barely survived the accident, and he woke up in the hospital several days later in terriblepain. Mary’s turn had finished and she was at his bedside when he woke, but he had no memory of what had happened at all theday of the accident. He did not remember what he witnessed until years later, on his eighteenth birthday when Mary explainedabout immortals and offered to turn him. Then it came back to him in a rush of hellish memories.” She shook her head unhappily.“Of course, he was hardly going to agree to the turn with that image in his mind.”
“Of course not,” Ildaria agreed with understanding, but asked, “Why didn’t they wipe his memory when it came back to him?”
“It is not that easy,” Marguerite said quietly. “You cannot reach in and remove something as old as that without the riskof damaging the mind.”
“But—I mean, it may have been an old memory, but he only remembered it in that moment. It was gone before that.”
“Not gone. Cloaked,” Marguerite assured her. “It was always there in his mind, though, and while he didn’t consciously recall it, some part of his mind was aware of it. Apparently, he had terrible nightmares for years after the accident. Mary thought they were because of the accident, but they were about her being an alien or pod person or some such thing.”
“Invasion of the Body Snatchers,” Ildaria murmured and when Marguerite raised an eyebrow in question, explained, “It was the first movie Jess and I watchedwhen I moved to the States. I gather it was first made in nineteen fifty . . . something, remade in the seventies, and thenrenamed just Body Snatchers and remade again in the nineties. It’s about these pods, from space I think, or maybe from the damage caused by pollutionor something. I can’t remember, but when near sleeping humans they grow perfect replicas of them that then kill them and takeover that person’s life.” She noted Marguerite’s wide-eyed expression and grimaced as she realized it didn’t really matterwhat had influenced his dreams about his mother. “Never mind. Go on.”
Marguerite nodded, took a moment to regather her thoughts, and then said, “At any rate, the memory was there all along, influencinghim subconsciously, even if he couldn’t consciously remember it. So, trying to remove it . . .” She shook her head. “It couldhave damaged him terribly.” She paused briefly, and then added, “Besides, now that he knew about immortals, now that she’dexplained them to him and he understood what he’d witnessed, it was a less horrifying memory.”
“But he still refused to turn,” she said, knowing that was the case, because the man was still mortal.
“Yes,” Marguerite said unhappily. “He claims he just has no wish to be immortal. He’s happy and fine being mortal, but I think what he witnessed is still affecting his choice. He does not wish to go through what he saw his mother suffer.” She met her gaze. “Mary was terribly upset when he refused her offer to turn him. No mother wants to lose her child and his not turning meant she would have to watch him age and die. So Robert bought the Night Club in London as a birthday gift for G.G. His hope was that with so much exposure to a varied number of immortals, G.G. would meet one he would be a life mate to and change his mind about the turn. But I do not think it is going to be as easy as that.”
Expression becoming grave, Marguerite warned, “I really think you need to take this slowly. If you cannot read him, keep itto yourself as long as you can. Hopefully, once he falls fully in love with you, which—as a life mate—he will not be ableto resist doing . . . Hopefully then he will agree to the turn.”
“And if not, I get to watch him age and die alongside his mother and have to go on without him,” Ildaria said dryly, and thenraised her head to the ceiling and growled loudly, “Argh! Why does everything in my life have to be so damned hard? Just once,couldn’t you let something be easy?”
Marguerite cleared her throat, and when Ildaria dropped her gaze back to her, said, “I assume you are talking to God?”
“Who else?” she asked, flicking a glare toward the ceiling.
“Yes, well . . . perhaps you should consider that you are very young to find a life mate. Most immortals are not this luckyand have to wait millennia.”
“Si, but—”
“And perhaps you should consider that all these difficulties, your troubles in Punta Cana, and then Montana, and now at university here . . . well, they did all work together to land you at the Night Club to meet G.G,” she pointed out gently.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Ildaria’s mouth at Marguerite’s pointing out the bright side to the hell that had beenher life, but then she said, “Actually, you sent me to the Night Club to meet G.G., but I get your point. Quit my bitching. I’m lucky to have a problem like this.”
“Basically,” Marguerite agreed with a smile.
“Right,” she breathed and then stood up. “Well, I guess I’ll take H.D. upstairs to my room and ponder ways to make G.G. fallin love with me without revealing that we’re possible life mates.”
“It might help to consider the things he loves best in life,” Marguerite suggested.
Ildaria had started to turn away from the table, but paused and swung back now, her eyebrows rising. “Do you know what thatmight be?”
Marguerite nodded. “His dog, food, and women.”
Ildaria’s jaw tightened. “Women? In the plural?”
Marguerite shrugged. “It’s why women love him. He understands them, appreciates them, admires and loves them; all shapes andsizes and personality types. G.G. loves women.”
“Great,” Ildaria breathed and bent to scoop up H.D., muttering, “Come on, buddy. You’re sleeping with me tonight. Or, at least,you’ll get to sleep. I’ve got some
