Heavenstone 02 - Secret Whispers

been directed to a beautiful restaurant up in a place called Eze that looked out over the ocean. It was like walking into a fantasy. The cobblestone streets, the quaint shops, and the scenery held our attention most of the day. Late in the afternoon, we drove back to the hotel and went to the pool, where we had cocktails and both dozed off. Claire Dubonnet had left a list of restaurants for us to try for dinner. One was at another hotel, La Reserve in Beaulieu-sur-Mer. Once again, we sat out on a patio and looked at the ocean.
    It was a wonderful dinner, during which Ethan once again apologized for his actions and vowed to work harder at making our marriage a success. When he added “as successful as your father and Lucille’s marriage,” I felt my stomach tighten.
    “Actually, my father’s marriage to my motherwas far more successful a marriage. They were as devoted to each other as any two people could be. They weren’t tied together by our business or wealth, but only by their love.”
    “Well, then, that’s the way we’ll be,” Ethan said quickly, but I thought he glanced at me oddly as he drank his port. Maybe he thought I was jumping on everything he said too quickly; maybe I was too sensitive. It wasn’t my intention to drive him away or cause him to worry every minute he was with me. I tried to be more pleasant and relaxed, and it worked. As soon as we were back in our suite, he wanted to make love.
    “We have to make love every night, even during the afternoon if we can,” he said, reminding me about my time for ovulation.
    “When you talk about all that, you sound more like a fertility doctor,” I said, gently teasing. “It’s not romantic, Ethan.”
    Once again, he unleashed one apology after another. We made love, but I couldn’t help thinking about my deception. My mother would never have kept such a secret from my father, I thought. If I really loved him and he really loved me, I should be able to tell him the truth.
    But I didn’t. Something kept me from doing it, kept me acting as if I wanted to be pregnant as much as he wanted me to be.
    We spent the rest of our days touring and shopping. We did get to Italy and bought much more than we should have. A good deal of it we sent ahead. I thought he spent a lot more time than necessary searching for a special gift for Lucille.
    “She’s done so much for us,” he said when he saw I was getting annoyed. “We’ve got to find something different, something unusual. What do you buy for someone who has everything?”
    Eventually, he settled on a beautiful and unique necklace an artisan had created. We bought it in a village called Saint-Paul De Vence, where we had a wonderful lunch and visited the shops. For our last night, Ethan thought we should call Claire Dubonnet and invite her to dine with us. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted the last night to be more special, to be just us. As it turned out, when she met us at one of the restaurants in Monaco that she had suggested, the conversation centered around Lucille and the times she had spent with her. When I glanced at Ethan as she spoke, I thought he looked entranced. It was as if he were hearing about experiences someone had had with a major political figure or celebrity.
    She told us she hoped to visit Lucille sometime next year.
    “Maybe we’ll have another surprise for you by then,” Ethan said, reaching for my hand.
    “Oh? Are you expecting?” she asked.
    I knew what she was thinking. So many of the guests at our wedding had looked as if they were thinking and gossiping about the same thing, that we had gotten married so quickly because I was pregnant.
    She looked surprised when Ethan answered quickly for me. “No, not yet, but hopefully soon.”
    “Well, I wish you luck,” she said. “Lucille told me how much your father would love to have a grandson.”
    “We’ll keep trying until he does,” Ethan vowed, which drove an icy sword of guilt through my heart.
    I argued with myself about stopping the birth control pills, but later, when I had to take one, I did. I was behaving like someone addicted, but my addiction wasn’t drug-related. It was fear, and I knew it. Maybe I would return to my therapist, I thought. The debate raged in my mind on and off during our trip home.
    Ethan had sent home Lucille’s gift, along with so many other things we had bought. He was both surprised and delighted to see her wearing it when we arrived at Heaven-stone in time for