“Told you. It’s got the wow factor,” Annabelle said, smacking her gum in her mouth.
“I’ll say,” I said, fingering over the lace.
“Let’s get ready,” Annabelle said with pep squad-like enthusiasm, before grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her.
Two hours, three sets of hot rollers, a half bottle of bronzer (along with a thousand other beautification devices I couldn’t name) later, Annabelle released me from the make-shift, makeover spa of the woman’s lounge adjoining my bedroom. She led me to the full-length mirrors, looking like the proud parent of a certified genius. “Tada!” she trumpeted, stopping me in front of the mirror and dropping her guiding hand from me.
When I saw the reflection before me, I wrinkled my brow in speculation and reached a hesitant hand out to the woman standing statuesquely in front of me. When I saw the woman before me reach her hand out in the same manner, and her mouth drop open as I could feel mine mimicking, I convinced myself that the figure before me, was in fact . . . me.
Annabelle had worked a miracle on the plainness that was my genetic betrayal. My skin was as luminescent as the moon, my lips sparkled in a deep red pout, and my hair flowed down my back in a cascading river of waves. Despite my earlier disdain at the gown being from John, I fell in love with it immediately. It cinched to my body as if hand-tailored.
“You’re a magician, Annabelle,” I whispered in bewilderment.
She stood in front of me and admired her handiwork. She giggled with delight at my compliment. “You’ve got a lot of raw material to work with. It’s not difficult to improve upon gorgeous.”
I controlled the urge to roll my eyes at her consoling response. Not only was she a magician, but extremely generous.
Her face became serious. “I’ve got to get ready, too.” She spun around and headed back into the women’s lounge where her gown awaited her. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she called out before the lounge door slammed shut behind her.
I wandered out to the balcony, needing to collect every ounce of courage I could. The sun was already starting its deep fall into the dark edge of the earth, twilight encroaching on the vineyard. I closed my eyes and took in one deep breath, holding it in my lungs while I dreamed of seeing William soon, and having only one more night to spend in this lonely room. Composed and satisfied, I released the seized breath, and turned to leave the familiarity of the balcony.
Something caught my eye resting on the stone railing. Despite the constricting dress, I rushed over to it, already knowing who it was from. The simple pewter box had a tarnished heart carved into its surface, and a warm sensation ran through me when I picked it up.
I looked to the next balcony down, hoping I would see him, or that he’d come and see me . . . just one last embrace before I had to say my unemotional goodbye to him tonight. I knew he wouldn’t risk it though, not with all the extra Immortal eyes around the Manor tonight.
This was his goodbye—like me, he didn’t want to have nothing other than a couple of casual words to get us through the long month ahead. I wished I had something to leave him with as well . . . I’d just have to make our dance extra special since I had no other gift to leave behind.
I slid aside the silver clasp and opened the box. My heart somehow managed to stop at the same time it felt it was going to burst. Resting on a pillow of ivory silk was a large, tear-shaped, sapphire pendant strung on a long, silver, rope chain. Despite the absent sun—like William—it still managed to sparkle in the darkness.
I grabbed the folded note resting beneath it.
A symbol of my promise to you.
In addition to my misbehaving heart, I had overreacting tear ducts to contend with as well. I refolded the note and tucked it back into the box. I fingered over the sapphire promise, and an air of clarity comforted me.
I wanted this sapphire promise with all of my heart, but I knew what I wanted even more . . . with my entire being, and that was William’s Immortal life never being threatened. I would give everything I had; including forfeiting this sapphire promise to ensure this would be so.
I wrapped the necklace around my neck and heard the clasp ting into place, where it would rest for the remainder of my existence. I glided through the balcony doors, and hid the pewter box in one of my running shoes I had resting beneath my bed. I was all set for my morning “run”, and despite Patrick’s warning that I couldn’t take anything with me, there was no way I was leaving the box behind. I’d stuff it in my sport’s bra if I had to.
I’d just slid my shoe back under the bed when Annabelle burst into the room. “What do you think?” she inquired, twirling three times in my direction.
Annabelle had transformed herself in only several minutes time what had taken hours for me to get ready. She wore an emerald-green, silk dress and had piled her mass of honey and caramel hair into tight curls at the crown of her head. Her petite stature was accentuated by the four-inch heels she paraded around in like a true pro.
“You look beautiful,” I complimented.
“Let’s get this show on the road.” Finished with her twirling, she came to a stop beside me and elbowed my side. “We didn’t get all dressed up for nothing, did we? Let’s give those men downstairs something to dream about.” She smiled ruefully, moving her eyebrows up and down like a jackhammer.
There was only one man whose dreams I was concerned with, and I knew I’d been in them generations before I’d been born. Annabelle could have the rest of the men’s dreams—I only hoped to create a few more images for him tonight that would visit his dreams while we were apart.
As we turned to exit the room, something jumped to mind. “Oh wait. I’ve got a present for you,” I said, walking as fast as I trusted my stiletto-strapped feet to move.
“A present?” Annabelle questioned, sounding confused. “What for?”
I pulled open the drawer to my bedside nightstand, and touched the diamond choker for the first time since I’d placed it in its hiding spot nearly a week ago.
“Because you’ve always been so nice to me, and I won’t see you in class any more.” I hid the hand holding the necklace behind my back as I walked back to her.
“You didn’t have to do that. We’ll still see each other,” she replied.
I didn’t want to respond with a lie to her, so I flashed my hand forward and revealed the diamonds that shown like stars.
Her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my gosh!” She reached her hand out to touch the necklace I wanted out of my hand since it felt so white hot, it froze my skin instead of burning it.
“Let me put it on for you,” I said, whisking behind the astonished young girl. I clasped the choker in position and turned her around. Her eyes were welling over.
“Are you sure? Don’t you want to wear it tonight?” she asked, as her hands ran along the strand that must have contained hundreds of carets.
“I’m sure. It’s yours,” I emphasized, winking at her.
“I don’t know what to say . . . thank you!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me.
I hugged her back, attempting to keep my own tears welled up. “Come on, let’s go.”
She beamed at me and grabbed my hand, pulling me through the door and down the hall, her smile almost as sparkly as the jewels circling her neck.
The foyer below was a fury with a rainbow or colors. White-coated waiter’s carried champagne, and what was surely John’s famous Pinot Noir, on silver trays. The sound of hundreds of soprano, base and tenor voices combined in unison to form a symphony of pleasant buzzing.
Annabelle clutched at my arm in excitement, and the same emotion glimmered in her eyes. We hadn’t taken more than one step down the staircase when she exclaimed, “Oh, no!” Her hand flew to one of her ears. “I lost my other earring.” She looked at me full-faced to confirm what she already felt to be true, so I nodded my head.
“One’s missing.” I smiled apologetically at her. I should have noticed this before we’d started down to the party. I would have if my thoughts had not been so over consumed with him all the time. Nothing else seemed to matter . . . least of all one absent earring from my new friend’s ear.
“Darn it! It must have fallen off in the changing room. I’ve got to go look for it.” She turned and began rushing down the hallway.
I swept around to follow her.
“No, you go on ahead.” She waved her hand in encouragement. “Don’t miss another minute of this party—go, enjoy! I’ll see you down there,” she encouraged, before turning the corner and vanishing into the hallway.
The confidence I’d had in walking into this exquisite affair with another companion removed, I felt the beginnings of a panic-attack. I gripped both hands to my stomach, trying to physically force the nervous contractions taking place in there to quiet.
I couldn’t stand here on the first step of the staircase looking like an idiot frozen in stone—an idiot hyperventilating. I mustered up as much bravado my introvert self had (it was measly at best), drew my shoulders back, straightened my back, and affixed my arms at my side. It was a struggle to keep them there though . . . they were so long and felt awkward not doing something. One calming breath in, and I took another step down, followed by the next.
I felt I might be pulling this confidence thing off, that was until I made it to the landing of the staircase and noticed the majority of eyes in the room were on me, paralyzing me. I turned to stone, surveying the staring eyes below me and willing their relentless stares to move somewhere else—anywhere else.
The panic started again, and with force. One hand burst through the imaginary shackles I’d envisioned to keep my arms at my side, and reached for my stomach. I steadied myself by grabbing the railing with my other hand. The room started to spin, getting faster with each circumspect. My legs were shaking beneath me, their movement hopefully muted by the layers of my dress.
“My, oh my, Miss Dawson.” The deep bass carried above the silent crowd of spectators. John emerged through the crowd at the bottom of the stairs, the look in his eyes bringing back the nauseous pangs in my stomach. He stood on the bottom stair for a few more seconds, his eyes growing even wider as they searched over every inch of my body. “You’re a vision.”
A few heads nodded in approval.
John ascended the stairway to me. “May I?” his words didn’t sound like a question as he held out his arm for me to take. His eyes fell upon the sapphire pendant and I noticed his brow furrow for a moment, and then he recovered.
With all eyes on the two of us now, I slid my arm tentatively through his and placed my hand on his forearm. His eyes didn’t leave me as he led me down the remaining stairs, and I saw the same anticipation in his eyes I’d seen there a few days ago. The mystery behind the anticipation still made me uneasy. I relaxed some when I found the majority of eyes had turned elsewhere by the time John and I stepped down on the marble floor of the foyer.
I saw Patrick standing a ways off. He was resting an arm on the fireplace mantle . . . casually confidant—looking like some hybrid of James Bond and a men’s perfume model—and when his eyes met mine, he clutched his hands to his heart dramatically and faltered backwards, feigning something that resembled a heart attack. I stifled a giggle and turned my eyes from him for fear of not being able to repress any more laughter if I continued viewing his award-winning performance.