Page 210 of Eternal Craving

Hearing my approach, she slid off the monument and we strolled through the graveyard. I looked forward to sharing new luscious delights with her, an array of thrills.

She stared up at me with a glint of something indeterminable in her expression and her hand took mine. I felt her slide something onto my ring finger. I gazed down at the gold band.

“My mark of ownership.” Her voice was low, sultry.

I felt that familiar craving capturing me, as her words lingered. Only in silence could the sensations be best appreciated.

“Are we married now?” I thought to ask.

“Let’s see where eternity takes us,” she said, and then dashed ahead with laughter.

It was a joy to see the once-stoic woman finally playful and radiant with happiness.

Chapter Sixty-Four

1789

Decades unfold as easily as ripples spread across a pond.

Eternity, the perfect promise.

As though in a warped time zone, people and places transform. We, however, remain unaffected. Time advanced, though for us stasis was a given.

To ease my adjustment, Sunaria encouraged frequent moves to new provinces, her belief being that such would provide the subtle illusion that one had merely changed to a more progressive town, though the world evolved.

Falling back into the leisurely pace of life had been easy. Removing myself from the tediousness of residing in a frenetic city, immersing myself in solitude, rediscovering old pleasures found in literature, music, language, and art, and finally allowing what little was left of the man I’d once been to reawaken.

A personal renaissance.

Preferring coastal life, taking solace in long barefoot walks along golden sandy beaches beneath starlit skies, I stilled that inner, unquiet voice – evoking the delusion that I wasn’t reallyalone and that somehow God might find a way to forgive me, and I him.

Even at night, midsummer’s warmth lingered, and a gentle breeze carried the salty scent of the blue-green ocean.

I stood precariously close to the edge of the cliff, admiring the rocky shoreline and the crescent moon reflecting sunlight off its grey-silver orb. I’d never been one for sunsets – at least that’s what I told myself.

Remembering Señor Machon, my first tutor, I smiled, fondly recalling his lessons, which enlightened me at such a young age, feeding me knowledge that I’d needed. And later, my relationship with Miguel, his lessons not from books but drawn from life itself, his wisdom that only now I appreciated.

I could still hear the echo of my son Jacob’s voice from time to time, but far less frequently. Here I’d managed to suppress many of the old inner ghosts, subdue the angst that disallowed any sense of calm, searching for self-forgiveness or even insight as a poor second. I tried to keep that awful feeling of being overtaken by the unseen at bay, but still feared I’d be unable to prevent it.

The hairs pricked on the back of my neck. With a quick check of my surroundings, I confirmed that I was alone.

Holding Marcus’ letter, I re-read the missive: London was even more avant-garde than when I’d left, Rachel was flourishing, and Belshazzar’s thrived.

Come back to me,were his final words.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Sunaria approaching. “How long have you been watching me?”

She looked surprised. “I just got here.”

There it was again…that sense that someone was close by, watching, closing their mind to me, closing their heart so I couldn’t fathom their identity.

Sunaria’s expression showed she was uncomfortable with me being so near the cliff’s edge. Her dress billowed around her in the breeze.

“The clouds broke an hour ago.” I flashed her a smile. “I love this view.”

“How many times do you have to see it?” Sunaria grumbled. “I yearn for something else, something different.”

I turned away. “We’re not going to Madrid.”