This Same Earth

None of it seemed to fascinate Ben like the computer, and Giovanni stared in pleasure as the boy and Beatrice huddled over it while she unlocked the mysteries Giovanni couldn’t.

“I’d say you look like you want to eat her alive, my friend, but I think it’s much more serious than that,” Caspar said quietly, his eyes following Giovanni’s as he sat next to him on the couch.

“Look at them. Look how beautiful they are,” he murmured as he watched their dark heads lean toward each other.

He saw Caspar smile.

“She’s so good for you. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this happy.”

“I’d be happier if she returned my affections.”

Caspar snorted. “Don’t be blind. She’s unsure, not indifferent.”

He cocked an eyebrow at his old friend. “Aren’t I being patient?”

“Mostly. What did you get her for Christmas? I didn’t see a present from you.”

“None of your business, you brat.”

Caspar chuckled and nodded toward Ben. “It’s so odd, to see you with another child. Was I anything like that?”

Giovanni frowned. “Yes and no. Some things are the same, but he’s much more independent than you were.”

“That makes sense.”

“And much more canny, which is both good and bad.”

“Yes, I can see that, as well. The two of you are much easier around each other than you were last summer. Has B helped?”

He looked at her, and her eyes lifted to his. She offered him a small wink and a smile before she turned back to Ben.

“Yes, Beatrice has helped.” Everything.

After the rest of the house had gone to bed, they kept each other company in the library, waiting for Carwyn’s expected phone call.

“I never gave you your present, tesoro. Do you want it now?”

She smiled. “I wondered. I have one for you, too.”

Giovanni pulled out a large box wrapped in burgundy paper from under the side table and handed it to her. She opened it and pulled out a carefully packed book box with two small volumes inside. She looked at the spine in delight.

“Persuasion?”

“First American edition, 1832. I found it in Paris a few years ago and thought you might enjoy it. I remember you eyeing my Austen the first time you were here.”

She carefully pulled the first volume from its original book box and opened it carefully. “It’s wonderful, Gio. Thank you.” She smiled again. “Persuasion, huh?”

He shrugged and smirked. “It seemed appropriate. There’s another small item in there, as well.”

She closed the book, carefully packing it away before she looked into the box again and pulled out a small leather bag. She opened it, and a familiar brass key fell into her hand.

She blinked. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Well, you like that house as much as I do, so there’s your key.”

“You’re giving me the…the Cochamó house?”

He snorted. “You still have to share it with me. That’s my favorite home, but your name is on the deed, so to speak. And Gustavo and Isabel know if anything ever happens to me—”

“Nothing better happen to you.”

“—the house is yours, Beatrice. It’s your house, too. You can go whenever you want to now.”

He couldn’t read the expression on her face until she looked up and there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love both my presents, but this one especially.”

“You’re welcome.”

She leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. He left his arms lying across the back of the couch so he didn’t grab her and cart her off to his room.

“So,” he asked, clearing his throat. “Where’s my present?”

“You know, you’re not really bouncing around like Ben was.”

He grinned and bounced in his seat just a little, making her laugh uproariously before she stood.

“Hold on; it’s in my room. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

Giovanni stared into the fire and tried to imagine her lying in their bed at Cochamó, her smooth skin lit by candlelight. He wondered when he’d be able to persuade her to go with him again. He wanted to go in the summer with her, so she could see the waterfalls running and the meadows filled with wildflowers. They were beautiful at night, though she would be able to enjoy them during the day, as well.

“Okay,” she called from the hall. “I don’t have it wrapped, so close your eyes.”

He smiled and closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, she would be modeling lingerie…or just skin, but he had a feeling that was wishful thinking. Instead, he heard her fumbling with something that sounded rather large.

“Okay, open.”

He opened his eyes to see a large framed color photograph. It was his favorite waterfall in Cochamó, the midday sun reflecting off the mist and scattering rainbows. He smiled when he recognized it and looked up to see her waiting expectantly.

“I thought you could put it in your room here to go with your picture of Florence.” She set it down and propped it against the chair nearest to the door. “And I got you a case of your favorite scotch, too. I called Gavin last week—”

She was cut off when he pulled her into his lap and kissed her. Beatrice tensed for a moment before she relaxed and sank into his arms. She gave a small sigh as he caressed her mouth, and she finally seemed to melt in his arms. His hands grasped her waist as she straddled him and met each surge with corresponding need. Her arms twined around his neck to pull him closer, and his hands reached up her shoulders, pressing their bodies together.