Chapter 8: Reconciliation

[Undated entry]
On the home island

WHEN SHE SAW Father she threw herself at him and hugged him as tight as she could. She felt something warm and wet on her cheek and knew her tears were not alone. She kissed him then, on both cheeks.

“Father.”

“Amélie.”

She held him tight.

“I’m sorry, Father. For everything.”

She felt him squeeze her.

“No. Amélie. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He released her and looked from her to Gérard.

“Nothing at all. I was wrong. You were right to do what you did to free Antoine.”

Over his shoulder she saw Grace nod. When Father released Amélie Grace approached and enfolded her in her arms. Amélie felt her strength and, as with Father, she felt wet drops on her cheek. Grace kissed her on the mouth. That wasn’t unusual, relatives often kissed each other in that fashion, but Amélie had a flash of wonder if the Grace’s kiss signaled more than a greeting. Grace pulled back to look at Amélie.

“You are so brown, Amélie.”

Amélie blushed. How could she tell Grace about her hours nude on the beach with Gérard, the sun warm on their bare skin. She felt the saltwater caress her and support her, as they joined in the waves and she reveled in Gérard’s hardness and vigor.

Amélie heard rather san saw Grace’s chuckle. “You have been in the sun, my sweet, yes?”

Amélie nodded. She couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Often, Aunt Grace. With Gérard, too, look,” and she pointed at Gérard who bore the touch of the sun much more prominently than she did. Grace leaned close.

“And without bathing costumes, no?”

“Yes, Aunt Grace.”

Grace led them into the house. She directed the staff to deliver their bags, which were few, to their respective rooms.

“You will have your rooms again, Amélie, Gérard. Nothing has changed. I had them thoroughly aired out and cleaned when we heard you would return. I know you are tired. If you wish, I will have the kitchen deliver a light meal at midday, and our formal dinner at the usual hour this evening.”

With that she embraced them both and kissed each on the mouth, and sent them on their way.

In her old room once more, Amélie surveyed it slowly. Her books, her papers, even her old clothes, were much as she had left them. She liked what she saw in the full-length mirror. A slender young woman, dark hair, skin perhaps a little too browned from the sun, her cheeks glowing. Overall the young woman looked back at her with confidence, with pride and with energy, even if the lines around her eyes hinted at some weariness and some preoccupation. Amélie closed her eyes and stood in front of the mirror without moving.

The sound of her door closing interrupted Amélie’s reverie, Hands held her waist and she felt a warm cheek press against her own. She opened her eyes to see Sandrine beside her, her smile broad, her white teeth shining in her dark face. Sandrine kissed her cheek.

“Mademoiselle is more beautiful than ever.”

Amélie giggled.

“Oh, stop it, Sandrine. You embarrass me.”

“But it is perfectly true, Mademoiselle Amélie. The sun suits you.” From behind her, Sandrine moved her hands to Amélie’s shoulders and traced the curve of her arms. “You have been swimming. It shows in your arms.” She moved her hands to cup Amélie’s breasts. “And these are as firm and delightful and inviting as ever.”

At those words Amélie twisted around and embraced Sandrine and pressed her body against the slave. An enormous contentment and a sense of ease, of completeness, surrounded Amélie. Relief from a tension she had not known she had. Their kiss was between two lovers, the reality of it overwhelmed Amélie and Sandrine as well. It was a long kiss. Neither woman wished to end it, and Amélie reveled in the feel of Sandrine’s own curves and slender strength. She let her hands drop to Sandrine’s buttocks, still as firm and rounded as before. At the touch Sandrine’s thighs parted to permit Amélie’s leg to push between them. Sandrine ground herself gently against the intruder.

When they broke the kiss at last the two were breathing fast.

“Oh, how I have missed you, Sandrine.”

“And I have missed you even more, Mademoiselle Amélie.”

Amélie woke from her doze to see Sandrine inches away. Her dark skin glistened with sweat highlighted by the bars of light that came through the louvered shutters. It was cooler inside the high-ceiling rooms of the plantation house than outside, but only a little. Amélie looked down her own body, equally flushed and sweaty. She smiled.

“I love you, Sandrine.”

A giggle answered her.

“And I you, Mademoiselle Amélie.”

“Will you drop the formality, Sandrine? Please?”

Sandrine drew her fingers across Amélie’s nipples. The action sent another quiver to her belly and below, but now hunger overcame her desire to renew her lovemaking with Sandrine. She reached out to stroke Sandrine’s cheek.

“You will come with Gérard and me to Oxford, Sandrine, no?”

Sandrine smiled.

“You wish me to come?”

“Yes, you goose, why do you think I asked? Besides, Father and Grace tell us they may return to England themselves soon, did you know that? They will not allow me to accompany Gérard alone.” Here she giggled. She was almost certain Father and Grace had deduced the nature of her relationship with Gérard. In any event she would not be permitted to share Gérard’s rooms at College and no young woman of her station would dare to live alone in the town.

Sandrine nodded. Then she leaned forward to kiss Amélie, another lover’s kiss. She pushed Amélie over onto her back. Amélie parted her legs almost without thought as Sandrine moved down her tummy. Her kisses soothed and inflamed at the same time. When Sandrine reached the wet tangle between Amélie’s legs her tongue found the right spots. In moments Amélie cried out and came once more on Sandrine’s tongue and fingers.

Dinner that evening was easier than Gérard or Amélie had expected it to be. Father appeared somewhat weaker than before, but Grace remained at his side to assist him to stand and to hold his elbow when he moved from table to chair.

Gérard was handsome in his evening wear, even if it showed its age and its storage for the years they were absent. For herself, Amélie chose the lightest and, after a pause for thought, the most revealing gown she found in her closet.