The Last Maharajan (Romantic Thriller/Women's Fiction) by Susan Wingate Page B
Authors: Susan Wingate
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voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself”.
Yet, before eating the forbidden fruit, Eve and Adam bounded happily about, stark raving naked, unaware of their form. But then they did—upon the advent of their sin, when Eve handed sin over and Adam ate the apple. It was only then they felt sin strip them. It was then they sewed fig leaves into clothing to cover their bodies.
Anyway, in terms of the Bible, after their three-way Euly supposed she took cover too.
Because of her upbringing – mass every Sunday and catechism every Saturday – she felt innocence dissipate overnight and watched as the snake hung so close to her in the tree.
Yet, over thirty years later, when she pondered that night and remembered the boys, she remembered it now with warmth and asked herself, “How can that be?”
She wondered how such a disdainful act could lend itself to a memory of tenderness? Can time feign atonement? Who knew?
Today, the act seemed as if it had happened outside her—as though it happened to someone else and she were merely the storyteller of that girl.
Did she tell anyone? Hell no! She never told a soul.
Could Clive have found out? Euly doubted it. But, even if Phoenix was a large city, it still had a small town feel. People were connected. People knew people. People had found out too much about her. She’d gotten away once and wondered if she could do it again this time. What was the old adage? You can run but you cannot hide.
Their conversation jingled like pennies in a pocket, like someone walked by you while your head was down, like being unmissed. Had Clive alluded to something she didn’t hear? She was usually quick to the draw on innuendo but felt like she’d missed important parts of their talk. Or, was she simply fabricating a way to add apprehension to another meeting with him.
It was years ago. They were younger. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t get out from under the shadow of the bible when she played the era out in her mind. A trickle of sweat leaked from under her left breast, the larger one, and she wiped it off by stuffing her cotton pajama top into the fold of her skin. She hated this town.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
When no one answered, Euly went around to the side to check in the window of Aunt Moon's garage and found her car gone. She dropped her arms and looked one way then the other. She sighed. After speaking with Geoff about the visit, she wanted to apologize to her aunt for her behavior. She wanted to make amends and explain the loss she felt. She needed her aunt’s forgiveness. She wanted to say it didn’t matter anymore and she was sorry.
Her time in Phoenix so far was fraught with bad memories and bad habits. She opened her bag and grabbed a pen and paper. She would leave her message on her door by slipping it into the crack of the screen door. After writing it, she folded it one, twice, three times. If Aunt Moon wanted to, she could call Euly on her cell and they might be able to meet up again and, hopefully, make up. She hoped they would. Her aunt was a gentle elderly woman. She didn’t want her aunt’s last memories of her to be about their last visit together. Euly had no doubt she would forgive her for the way she acted yesterday and forgive the things she said.
Euly tried to force the note into the door’s seam but it was too tight. She unfolded the note once and tried again but it didn’t work. She unfolded the note to its single thickness but, still, she found the seam too tight. She grabbed the door handle and gave it a tug. It budged but not enough to loosen. She walked back around to the side of the house, toward the side again, and in back where she knew there was a door leading into the garage. Aunt Moon’s yard was manicured even there on the side where she walked. A medley of mosaic stepping stones had been inset in the cool round leaves of Dichondra ground cover. There, on the shady side of the
Yet, before eating the forbidden fruit, Eve and Adam bounded happily about, stark raving naked, unaware of their form. But then they did—upon the advent of their sin, when Eve handed sin over and Adam ate the apple. It was only then they felt sin strip them. It was then they sewed fig leaves into clothing to cover their bodies.
Anyway, in terms of the Bible, after their three-way Euly supposed she took cover too.
Because of her upbringing – mass every Sunday and catechism every Saturday – she felt innocence dissipate overnight and watched as the snake hung so close to her in the tree.
Yet, over thirty years later, when she pondered that night and remembered the boys, she remembered it now with warmth and asked herself, “How can that be?”
She wondered how such a disdainful act could lend itself to a memory of tenderness? Can time feign atonement? Who knew?
Today, the act seemed as if it had happened outside her—as though it happened to someone else and she were merely the storyteller of that girl.
Did she tell anyone? Hell no! She never told a soul.
Could Clive have found out? Euly doubted it. But, even if Phoenix was a large city, it still had a small town feel. People were connected. People knew people. People had found out too much about her. She’d gotten away once and wondered if she could do it again this time. What was the old adage? You can run but you cannot hide.
Their conversation jingled like pennies in a pocket, like someone walked by you while your head was down, like being unmissed. Had Clive alluded to something she didn’t hear? She was usually quick to the draw on innuendo but felt like she’d missed important parts of their talk. Or, was she simply fabricating a way to add apprehension to another meeting with him.
It was years ago. They were younger. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t get out from under the shadow of the bible when she played the era out in her mind. A trickle of sweat leaked from under her left breast, the larger one, and she wiped it off by stuffing her cotton pajama top into the fold of her skin. She hated this town.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
When no one answered, Euly went around to the side to check in the window of Aunt Moon's garage and found her car gone. She dropped her arms and looked one way then the other. She sighed. After speaking with Geoff about the visit, she wanted to apologize to her aunt for her behavior. She wanted to make amends and explain the loss she felt. She needed her aunt’s forgiveness. She wanted to say it didn’t matter anymore and she was sorry.
Her time in Phoenix so far was fraught with bad memories and bad habits. She opened her bag and grabbed a pen and paper. She would leave her message on her door by slipping it into the crack of the screen door. After writing it, she folded it one, twice, three times. If Aunt Moon wanted to, she could call Euly on her cell and they might be able to meet up again and, hopefully, make up. She hoped they would. Her aunt was a gentle elderly woman. She didn’t want her aunt’s last memories of her to be about their last visit together. Euly had no doubt she would forgive her for the way she acted yesterday and forgive the things she said.
Euly tried to force the note into the door’s seam but it was too tight. She unfolded the note once and tried again but it didn’t work. She unfolded the note to its single thickness but, still, she found the seam too tight. She grabbed the door handle and gave it a tug. It budged but not enough to loosen. She walked back around to the side of the house, toward the side again, and in back where she knew there was a door leading into the garage. Aunt Moon’s yard was manicured even there on the side where she walked. A medley of mosaic stepping stones had been inset in the cool round leaves of Dichondra ground cover. There, on the shady side of the
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