The Taker

found some kind of position for me, his mother would object to having a fallen woman working for her son. He was right about this being an opportunity to do right by my family, though, and inwardly I squirmed. But I was also riddled with a nameless fear at the prospect of not obeying Adair’s orders.

“I couldn’t give up the city now that I know it. You’d feel the same.”

“I’ve already explained to you-”

“You needn’t make a decision on the spur of the moment. After all, to move your entire household to Boston is no small thing. Come back with me for a visit. Tell your family that you’re making a business trip. See if the city suits your taste.” I had deftly cleaned the pipe stem with a wire-a skill picked up from maintaining Adair’s water pipe-and tapped the bowl against a little salver to clear the ash. “It could be advantageous to you from a business position, as well. Adair will show you around, introduce you to the men who own the timber mills and such. He’ll take you out in society, too. There’s no culture here in St. Andrew! You have no idea of the things you’re missing, plays, concerts. What I think you’ll really find fascinating”-I leaned forward, our heads bowed close for the utmost secrecy-“is that Adair is much like you when it comes to a gentleman’s pleasure.”

“You say.” His expression begged me to go on.

“Women throw themselves at him. All types of women. Society women, common women, and, when he tires of such company, there are always the does.”

“Does?”

“Prostitutes. Boston teems with prostitutes of all kinds. Fancy brothels. Streetwalkers. Actresses and singers who would gladly be your mistress for the price of handsome rooms and spending money.”

“Are you saying I have to go to an actress or a singer to find a woman who would abide my company?” he asked, then glanced aside. “Do all men in Boston pay for a woman’s company?”

“If he wants her affections exclusively. These women tend to be better versed in the arts of love than most,” I said, hoping to whet his curiosity. It was time to share one of Adair’s gifts. “A present from my employer,” I said as I handed him a small bundle wrapped in red silk: the deck of ribald cards. “From one gentleman to another.”

“Entertaining,” he said, as he looked intently at each card in turn. “I’d seen a deck like this when I went to Fredericton, though not as-imaginative.” When he went to pick up the red silk to rewrap the cards, a second gift tumbled out, one I’d forgotten I’d brought.

Jonathan drew his breath in sharply. “Good God, Lanny, who is this?” He held a miniature painting of Uzra in his hands, a shimmer of enchantment in his eyes. “Is she a phantasm, the creation of some artist’s mind?”

I didn’t care for the tone of his voice-no gentleman would speak that way in front of a woman for whom he claimed to care-but what could I do? The portrait was meant to tempt him, and clearly it had done the trick.

“Oh no, I assure you, she exists in flesh and blood. She is my employer’s concubine, an odalisque he brought with him from the silk trade route.”

“Your employer has a curious domestic arrangement, it would seem. A concubine, kept openly in Boston? I wouldn’t think they’d stand for it.” Jonathan looked from the painting to me, brows knitted. “I don’t understand… why would your employer send gifts to me? What is his interest? What in the world did you tell him about me?”

“He is looking for a fit companion and senses you might be a kindred spirit.” He was suspicious, perhaps fearing that any interest from a man he didn’t know had to be tied to his fortune. “To tell you the truth, I think he is disappointed by the Boston crowd. They are quite a dour lot. He’s been unable to find a Bostonian with a spirit similar to his own, a willingness to indulge in whatever fancy intrigues him…”

But Jonathan didn’t seem to be paying attention to what I’d said. He studied me so closely that I feared I’d inadvertently said something offensive. “Whatever is it?” I asked.

“It’s just that you are… so much changed,” he said at last.

“I won’t argue with that. I have changed completely. The question is, are you disappointed in the change?”

He blinked, a shadow of pain in those dark eyes. “I must say-yes, perhaps a little. I’m not sure how to say this without hurting your feelings, but you are not the girl you were when you left. You are so worldly-you are this man’s mistress, aren’t you?” he asked hesitantly.

“Not exactly.” A term came to me from years earlier. “I am his spiritual wife.”

“His ‘spiritual wife’?”

“We all are. The odalisque, myself, Tilde…” I thought it best to leave out Alejandro and Dona, having no notion how Jonathan would respond to that arrangement.

“He has three wives under one roof?”

“Not to mention the other women he entertains…”

“And you do not mind?”

“He may share his affection however he wishes, as may we. What we have is unlike anything you’ve heard of, but… yes, this arrangement suits me fine.”

“Goodness, Lanny, I can scarce believe you are the girl I kissed in the church cloakroom those many years ago.” He cast a shy look in my direction, as though not quite sure how to behave. “I suppose, given all this talk of freely sharing your affections, it would not be unseemly if I were to ask you for-another kiss? Just to assure myself that you truly are the Lanny I once knew, here with me again?”

It was the opening I’d hoped for. He rose from his chair and leaned over me, grasping my face in his hands, but his kiss was hesitant.

That hesitancy nearly broke my heart. “You must know I thought I’d never see you again, Jonathan, let alone feel your lips on mine. I thought I would die from missing you.” As my eyes searched his face, I realized that the hope of seeing Jonathan again was the only thing that had kept me sane. Now we were together and I would not be cheated. I rose and pressed into him and, after a second’s hesitation, he drew me into his arms. I was grateful that he still desired me, but everything about him had changed since the last time we’d been together, even the scent of his hair and his skin. The reserve in his hands as he grasped my waist. The taste of him when we kissed. All changed. He was slower, softer, sadder. His lovemaking, though sweet, had lost its ferocity. Maybe it was because we were in his family’s house, his wife and his mother just beyond the locked door. Or he might have been consumed with regret for betraying poor Evangeline.

We lay on the settle together after Jonathan had finished, his head lying between my breasts cupped in fine silk stays, beribboned and trimmed with lace. He was still between my legs, lying on a crush of skirts and petticoats hiked to my waist. I stroked his hair while my heart thrummed with bliss. And, yes, I felt the secret thrall of having made him give in to his desire. And as for the wife waiting dutifully on the other side of the door-well, hadn’t she stolen Jonathan from me to begin with? And a deed of marriage meant little when he still wanted me, when his heart belonged to me. My body quivered with the proof of his desire. Despite all that had happened to each of us in the years we’d been apart, I was convinced more than ever that the bond between us was unbroken.

THIRTY-SIX

QUEBEC PROVINCE, PRESENT DAY

Luke stops at a diner close to the exit from the highway, needing a break from the endless gray ribbon of road. Once they’ve slid into a booth, he borrows Lanny’s laptop to catch up on news and check his email. Besides the usual queue of emails from the hospital administrators (“Employees are reminded not to park in the east parking lot, as this space will be used for snow removal…”), no one has written to him. No one seems to have noticed his absence. Luke makes the cursor scurry aimlessly around the desktop in his distraction, but there is nothing to double check. He is about to power down the computer when he hears a chime. Somebody has sent him an email.

He expects it to be spam, another cheerful but impersonal invitation from his bank to open a CD or something