Chapter 26

Mark heard the car as it came up the long driveway. He stepped out of the front door and watched as it approached. She was in a convertible with the top down, her hair in disarray. She had on a heavy jacket, and her face was bare of makeup. Mark guessed seduction wasn’t the first thing on her mind. He walked over and helped her in with her luggage, the silence between them heavy.

“How do you like the house?” she asked as they sat on the leather sofa, their glasses of wine untouched.

“It’s fine,” Mark said listlessly, glancing around the room. “Whose is it?”

“Don’t know,” Vivian said. “It was available ... and isolated. Like the one where we first met.”

They looked at each other silently, the fire casting flickering shadows on their faces.

“Lily?” Mark broke the quiet. “You know each other!”

Vivian nodded. “In college. That was the name she went by. She didn’t like Lilith.”

“In college? Before either of you were even converted?” Mark asked incredulously. “And neither of you ever thought to mention that to me?” he added, his voice rising.

“Mark, it’s a very long, very complicated story.”

“Well, tell it to me,” Mark said.

“Not now. Later, okay? I promise,” Vivian said.

Mark’s jaw clenched. “What’s wrong with now?”

“Mark, please. I promise I will tell you everything about it. But we have a lot to discuss, and I don’t want to ... It’s just not the right time. Trust me, Mark. I promise I will tell you at the right time.”

“All right, what is it you want to discuss?” Mark said, impatiently. “I’ve done everything you asked.”

Another long silence stretched between them.

“Mark, why did you leave?” Vivian asked, her eyes softer. “The first time, and then again the second time. Without a word.”

Mark looked down. “Vivian, I’m sorry. But talk about a long, complicated story.”

“Did she seduce you the first time?”

Mark’s eyes widened. He gazed at Vivian for a long moment. Then he looked at the fire, his eyes unfocused, recalling. That dizzying first night, and the exhilarating nights that followed it. The mysterious appearances out of nowhere; the vanishing into the dawn. The sex. The conversations that upended his world.

He turned back to her. “I don’t know ... maybe,” he admitted. “But I really don’t know. I was ... not at my best. Couldn’t think straight.”

Vivian nodded slowly, watching his eyes. “You left Julia, as well as me.”

“I know,” Mark said. “It was inexcusable. I don’t have ... or, I don’t know ... did I leave her? Weren’t we supposed to stay apart? And then she disappeared. I can’t remember the exact sequence, and I was getting everything second-hand from Robert. And I was ... completely messed-up.”

“It was a hard time for you,” Vivian said gently. “You never told me what you went through.”

Mark began to say something and then stopped. He looked at Vivian thoughtfully. Her hair was still wet from the shower. She looked younger and, for the first time, vulnerable. He’d learned, with Lilith, to sometimes suppress his first instinct -- because Lilith was beguiling.

And so was Vivian.

“Look, Vivian,” he finally said. “Can we not get into this right now? I need to think about it some more before I talk about it with you.”

“Of course, that’s fine,” Vivian said. “We’ve got time, or at least I hope we do.”

“What do you mean?” Mark said, his eyes moving back and forth between hers.

“Mark, I’m not going to try to keep you here. Or anywhere,” Vivian said. “You can leave any time you want. You have a car.”

“I was wondering about that,” Mark said, still searching her eyes.

“Just don’t go back to her,” Vivian said. “At least not yet.”

“Not yet?” Mark said, stunned. “You said ‘permanently.’”

“I know,” Vivian said. “And you agreed. But you would have agreed to anything! I’m not going to try to hold you to it.”

“Then what is all this about?” Mark asked, his eyes narrow.

“I just wanted a chance to talk to you,” she said. “You never talked to me. About it, about anything.”

Mark closed his eyes, shaking his head. “This is just bewildering.”

He opened them again. Vivian was smiling. “I’m sorry. But it’s good to see you,” she said, raising her glass. “I missed you.”

Mark gave her an ambiguous nod.

“Hey, how about those Red Sox?” Vivian said brightly.

Mark smiled. He reached for his glass. “Alright. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Mark sat at the barstool, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee and scrolling absentmindedly on his phone. The early morning light filtered through the kitchen windows. Vivian hadn’t come down yet, and the house was quiet but for the faint hum of the refrigerator. He was startled by the sudden sound of the back door opening.

Vivian came in, breathing heavily, her body glistening with sweat. She wore a damp tee shirt and running shorts, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

“Going to hop in the shower,” she said, breezing past him, leaving a trail of cool air in her wake.

Mark watched her disappear up the stairs, wondering. A few minutes later, she was back, her face still flushed from the run, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and leggings. The scent of her fresh shampoo mingled with the aroma of the coffee.

“Is there any more coffee?” she asked sitting down, her voice still slightly breathless.

“Sure,” Mark said, reaching for the pot. He poured her a cup, the steam rising lazily in the cool air.

“What do you want to do today?” she asked, cradling the mug in her hands.

Mark gave a mirthless laugh. “I’m at your disposal. Literally.”

“I found a picnic basket in my closet,” Vivian said, her eyes brightening. “Want to go on a picnic? We could find the perfect mountain meadow and have ham sandwiches and Prosecco.”

“That sounds fine,” Mark said.

They stopped at a deli to load up the picnic basket. They drove in her convertible, the wind whipping over them as they wound their way up the mountain. The day, fortunately, was warm, the sun climbing higher as they drove, illuminating the vibrant fall foliage.

Finding a meadow wasn’t hard – they passed dozens as they ascended. They finally settled on one on the south side that Mark spotted through the trees.

“So you run in the morning, too?” Mark asked as they lay on the blanket, sipping Cava.

Vivian nodded.

“Old habits die hard?” Mark said.

Vivian fixed him with a look. “Oh no you don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re not going to lure me into a premature conversation about Lilith.”

“Okay. But there is something I’d like to talk about.”

Vivian raised her eyebrows.

“Everything you and Charles told us during those weeks,” Mark began, his tone darkening. “How much of it actually bore some relationship to the truth?”

Vivian looked taken aback. “Mark, I never knowingly lied to you. Is that what you’re asking: did I lie to you?”

“All that stuff about Dacia, and the secreted Dacians, raping and pillaging. And the genetic traits of Dacians getting passed on during conversion. None of that was true.”

“Mark, I didn’t tell you any of that,” Vivian protested.

“No!” Mark said, his voice rising with anger. “You just sat there nodding while Charles fed us a pack of lies!”

“They’re not lies, Mark. A lot of Elysians genuinely believe everything Charles told you.”

“What do you believe?” Mark asked, his gaze piercing.

Vivian hesitated, her eyes darting away. “Some of it,” she admitted. “Not all of it.”

Mark shook his head. “I trusted you. I trusted both of you. And I persuaded Julia to trust you, too. Her instincts were obviously better than mine.”

Vivian closed her eyes, pain etched on her face. “Mark, how can I explain this to you?” She opened them and looked at him. “They weren’t lies. They’re beliefs. In the same way some people believe parts of the Bible and others don’t. Charles believed different things about Elysians and Dacians and their history than I did. But it was his show. I was there in support. I wasn’t about to start contradicting him in front of you. I mean, Mark, it’s hard enough when you’re introducing people for the first time to the existence of Elysians and Dacians in their midst and trying to convince them to have sex with a parent and stay away from Dacians. The last thing you want to do is start parsing doctrinal differences in front of them. That was Charles’s script. And I promise you, he believed all of it. Some of it, I had my doubts about, but they were not lies in any conventional sense, any more than Jesus curing the leper is a lie.”