| Subject: The Gift 1/4 |
Author:
Athena4
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Date Posted: 20:41:36 04/13/01 Fri
In reply to:
Athena4
's message, "The Gift" on 20:39:04 04/13/01 Fri
The package landed on her desk with a bang, and Madeline looked up; thinly veiled disgust playing across her face.
“What’s this?” she said sharply, meeting the eyes of the man before her.
“A gift,” Paul replied, blatantly ignoring her tone. “Traditionally given on birthdays; generally by family, colleagues or close friends. Usually accepted with a smile.”
His tone and emphasis weren’t lost on Madeline and she fought back the urge to smile. So, she thought to herself. He had remembered.
“We’re not in the habit of exchanging gifts,” she said, keeping her voice even. “What prompted this?”
“Open it,” he smiled, coming around the desk to seat himself on its edge. “You’ll see.”
Swirling her chair around to face him, Madeline looked up at him once more, letting a look of impatience cross her face. No use letting him see her pleasure.
Paul remained undeterred by her look, and pushed the package towards her – meeting her eye with an amused gaze. “Well?”
“All right,” she said, reaching for the package. She unwrapped it slowly, unknotting the ribbon carefully instead of simply pulling if off over the parcel’s edge. She watched Paul from the corner of her eye while she did so; amusement apparent on her down-turned face when he shifted impatiently.
“Is there a problem?” she said, pausing in her perusal of the paper to look up at him.
“No, of course not,” he grinned, picking up the ribbon from her desk and running it between his fingers. “Do continue.”
“Thank you,” she smiled back, casually unsticking the tape, and sliding the box out from inside the paper wrapping. Paul’s own grin widened when she uncovered the box - it was akin to a small child on Christmas morning; awaiting his mother’s approval on a home-made gift.
Suppressing a chuckle at his eagerness, Madeline opened the box, pushing aside several pieces of tissue. Her breath caught in her throat. There, laying in the bottom were two tickets: box seats, Orchestre de Paris – Dvorak’s New World Symphony.
She released her breath and looked up at him, not even bothering to keep the light from her eyes. He really did remember. Placing her hand on his knee, she gave voice to her thoughts.
“You remembered,” she said, surprised when her voice caught.
“Don’t be silly,” he said, stroking her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I’ll never forget.”
The silence between them was palpable. It had been a long time, perhaps too long. It was Paul who broke the awkwardness, standing and walking around to the far side of the desk. “You can take whomever you please,” he said somewhat meekly. “There’s no obligation attached to the gift.”
Madeline smiled, placing the top back on the box, the tickets still enclosed. “I’ll expect you to pick me up at seven,” she said. “Appropriately attired.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, heading towards the door. As it slid open at his approached, he turned and bowed, eyes glittering with mockery. “Seven o’clock.”
*****
The chime in her apartment rang at five minutes to seven, and Madeline smiled to herself. Right on time.
Over the years she’d tried to keep Paul at arms’ length, even after Adrian’s involvement in their life had ended. With their overthrow of Section, and Charles’ opportune disappearance, there was really nothing standing in their way – and yet, she continued to push. It had simply become habit, a convenient alternative to accepting a relationship that had always made her feel dangerously out of control.
So, she continued to enjoy their banter, and she continued to enjoy his company. But she made sure it never went beyond the ‘friendly’. The problem was: she missed him terribly. She wanted him far more than she was willing to accept, and his gift had driven that point home.
Just as he had planned.
Her smile broadened as the chime rang a second time, and she walked purposefully towards the door, stepping into her shoes as she pulled it open.
“Punctual, as always,” she said, signalling him to enter. Her breath caught as she took in his attire. A tuxedo. She should have known; she should have been prepared. He’d always looked so damned good in a tux. Recovering herself, she smiled at him, taking her purse from the hall table. “Shall we?”
“Your ride awaits,” he smiled, taking her hand. He continued to hold it until they had boarded the elevator, then suddenly, the awkwardness of the moment took over. “I’m sorry,” he said, dropping her hand as if it had burned him.
“Don’t be,” she said, taking his hand in hers again. Just then, the elevator doors swung open to reveal the lobby and the front door. Parked before the door was a white, stretch limousine; a stoic man holding the back door open for his guests. Madeline gasped, looking up at Paul with a smile. “You went all out tonight.”
“I want it to be special,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder and leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I want…” He stopped, guiding her through the doorway and into the limo.
He remained silent as they settled into seats across from each other, and Madeline watched him, a small frown flickering across her face. After so many years, it still hurt him. The separation pained them both.
He looked up then and smiled at her, draping an arm across the leather seat back. Finally, Madeline had to break the silence. “I don’t think I ever thanked you properly, Paul,” she began, leaning back against the seat. “For the tickets. It was a sweet gesture.”
“I know how you enjoy Dvorak’s Ninth,” Paul said quietly.
Madeline smiled, memories and music bombarding her mind. Something about the night, about the memories pushed aside her desire to remain aloof. Sliding carefully to his side of the limo, she curled herself into the crook of his arm, sighing contentedly as his hand came to rest of her shoulder.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, and felt his arm tighten around her shoulder. She paused, savouring the sense of safety she felt in his arms.
“Then, why - ” he began, then stopped abruptly. “No,” he continued, stroking her arm with his hand. “Not tonight.”
“Not tonight,” she agreed, clasping his hand in hers.
The limo came to a stop before the Théâtre du Châtelet and Madeline, reluctantly, slid away from Paul, releasing her grip on his hand. The door swung open from the outside, revealing the stoic man once again.
Paul climbed out of the limo first, reaching for Madeline’s hand when he reached the curb. She took it happily, smiling up at the stoic driver. “You can take the rest of the night off,” she said, reaching into her purse for an ample tip. “We’ll walk home after the symphony.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the driver replied, bowing slightly in their direction. “If you’re sure?”
Paul met her eye, raising a questioning eyebrow. She nodded, folding her arm into his. “We’re sure,” he said. The driver nodded, shutting the door and walking back around to his side of the car.
As the limo pulled away, Madeline clasped Paul’s arm a little tighter. It was good to be out of Section of the evening – and even better to be holding him close. Pushing aside the doubts that had begun to creep into her mind, she guided him into the Théâtre, truly content for the first time in many years.
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