Chapter 4

Returning from St. Paul I started thinking that Susan's phobia was infectious. I was lonely. Flooded with guilt I was becoming morose because of my betrayal of Anita. I tried to keep busy with outstanding business matters hoping that my mood would change.

My answering machine had only one message and that was from Anita. The time difference meant that it would be another three hours before I could talk to her after she had finished working for the day.

Knowing the history of the painting, I felt that any further investigation was pointless so I phoned Arthur Symonds.

"Hullo Arthur, I guess that you've had a report from Susan about the painting so I want to cancel any further investigations by you. I would like you to terminate the project and send me an invoice for your costs incurred so far."

"I'll do that Paul. You don't believe in curses do you?"

"No, I'm a skeptic."

"In that case I'll ship the painting back to you tomorrow. It's the strangest case I've ever been involved with. Susan seemed disturbed by Jackson and his story, other than that she seemed to have enjoyed the trip. She said that she enjoyed working with you."

"Susan was very professional and she handled Jackson very skilfully. Well, I'll expect the painting tomorrow, thanks Arthur."

Enjoyed working with me indeed, I'll bet she did. I decided that I did not like Susan; in fact, I was beginning to hate her because of the guilt that she was causing me.

I was at a loose end and my mood had not improved so I went for a walk in the park. It was cold and I was heavily rugged up strolling aimlessly along the pathways. As night settled over the park I retraced my steps and passing the Spanish restaurant I went in and had a meal. I have never enjoyed eating alone in a restaurant and it was worse tonight as I remembered being here with Anita only a few nights before.

Back in my apartment it was now less than an hour to wait until I could speak with Anita. Taking a chance, I phoned the Hilton hoping that today she might have been house hunting and had returned to her room earlier than she would do on a working day. It was not my lucky day but I think that I made the receptionist's day when I left a message for Anita which said 'I love you Anita and I'm so lonely, please call me.'

The phone rang and I picked it up before the third ring but it was a call from one of my suppliers of chemicals in Amsterdam asking for a letter of credit to be placed in their bank. When I hung up I started pacing again, aimlessly I paced around my apartment. After a while I knew what I wanted to do, I would retire from my company. Tomorrow I would call my general manager, John Atkinson, and tell him my plan. Together we would go through the process of hiring a sales and marketing manager thus releasing me from day-to-day activities. Then I would be free, free to be with Anita.

I was sitting next to the phone when it rang an hour later, it rang once and I quickly picked it up; Anita sounded in a buoyant almost jubilant mood.

"You're happy tonight."

"I am, you left me such a sweet note. I think the front desk woman was a little shy when she read it out to me. And I'm happy also because I've leased an apartment, I got a good deal and it has a beautiful view over the bay area, I'm very happy. One of the bedrooms is large, just right for you and me."

"That's very kind of you, I just wish I was with you tonight, I can't wait until we're together again. I've been planning what I'm going to do; I need to get away from my company and appoint someone in my stead. The problem is that this could take about a month to fix so I've decided to be with you at the end of the week so we can get married."

"Married?"

"Well I've said yes and I'm just waiting for the other party to see the light and say yes too."

"You're not only aggressive but you're pushy too, and I love it. Let's talk about it when you get here."

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"When you get here. Tell me about the painting and your trip with Susan."

I let Anita divert me and carefully I related the meeting with Jackson and Susan's part in getting the story from him and how she thought that the painting was cursed. I was careful because my self-esteem was low; the guilt now seemed to pervade my whole being and I should never have allowed Susan to intrude into my life. And the last thing I wanted was to give Anita any cause for concern.

"Susan thinks the painting is cursed, do you?"

"Of course not. That's ridiculous. Would you like to have the painting at your place?"

"No, you keep it with your collection. I won't be here forever and I hope to return to New York when the time is right."

As I listened I detected that Anita might not be as skeptical of curses as I was.

"That's Ok, I understand. When do you think that you'll be ready to receive guests?"

"If it's you, then anytime. I won't get occupancy of the apartment until Monday but I'm sure that we can find a place to sleep or any other activity that we might indulge in."

"Then I'll fly out Friday and try and get there about eight or nine p.m.

"Great! I'll meet you at the airport and then we might have a late dinner."

"It's a date. Sleep well my darling."

The next day I outlined my plans to my general manager and we sketched out the job description for a sales and marketing manager. Then we selected a head-hunter to find the right person to fill the job.

The small crate with the painting arrived mid-afternoon and I could not resist unpacking it. I sat it on a small easel and as I stared at it my mind drifted back to the meeting with Jackson.

His glazed eyes and his almost whispered, 'The water' and then later in the day when he told us about his father, 'The fire, the fire... '

I felt the muscles in my scalp tighten and I shivered. My eyes seemed riveted to the images of Anita and Paul. A cold wave of air swept through my collection room as I continued to stare at the painting. And I heard again the whisper 'The water', 'The fire, the fire'. I felt like I was submerged deep in water and I struggled like a diver, his lungs screaming for air, struggling for the surface. I inhaled deeply and the spell was broken. I quickly left the room and locked the door behind me.

There was something about the painting that continued to trouble me. I was confused because I was sure that it was not that I believed that the painting was cursed, I was too skeptical to accept that idea, there was something else bothering me. Were Anita and I reincarnations of Anita and Paul Morton? Did I believe in reincarnation? I struggled mightily with the many notions that were beginning to shake my foundations. I sat for hours trying to understand, trying to make sense of the thought that Anita and I might have lived before. As I have done with my other problems that were unresolved, I put it into a compartment in my mind knowing that I would be coming back many times to gnaw on it.

On the flight to San Francisco I was loosening up and feeling more carefree than I had been but it was short lived as I recalled my behaviour with Susan. But I was sure of one thing - Anita must never find out about my betrayal of her.

In the arrival lounge I was excited as I searched the waiting crowd looking for Anita. She spotted me first and came around from behind me and thrust her hand under my left arm. I dropped my business bag and whirling around I cupped her face in my hands and tenderly kissed her. The jostling passengers were bumping into us so I took her hand and led her to the edge of the crowd.

Anita was attractively dressed in a knee length gown, her hair framing her smiling face, her head tilted slightly as she smiled at me.

"This is better than sex over the phone," she whispered and her smile widened as she recalled the phone conversation with me when I was in St. Paul.

I smiled but the guilt hit me like a hammer on a sore thumb.

I leaned down and whispered to her "I love you more than I like living."

She giggled and I felt better.

"You're in my city tonight and I want to buy dinner. There's a restaurant called Rodboroughs that has a view of the Bay Bridge it's magnificent and I booked us a window seat. Not only that, after dinner I can show you the building where we will live. The view from my apartment is similar to the one from Rodboroughs."

"I'm all yours."

"I hope so."

Again, a surge of guilt and I vowed that I would never put myself in jeopardy again.

Rodboroughs was located on the southern end and eastern side of the Bridge. Looking north, light rain was falling reflecting the lights from the cars off the wet roadway. It was a long splash of red in one direction and white in the other; a truly magnificent panorama.

And just by chance we had a hostess named Susan assigned to service our table. I groaned inwardly, it seemed that the gods were out to punish me.

Susan was about twenty and perky, "How would you like your meal to proceed, slow and easy or fast to allow you to leave quickly?"

"Slow," we replied in unison,

"As an appetiser, would you like a light wine to go with our complimentary sourdough bread?"

We sat in the dim light nibbling crusty sourdough and sipping wine, my eyes only occasionally glancing at the view. A shiver run through me when I felt something rub against my inside thigh. Anita had shed her shoes and her foot was teasing me and my cock had become uncomfortable in its tight confine.

I rose off my seat and pulled it closer to the table hiding my growing erection.

Anita smiling at my embarrassment leaned closer to me and whispered, "Am I troubling you sir?"

I chuckled, "Not as much as I'm going to trouble you when we get out of here."

"Do you think that I could get you to cum for me?" she asked as her toes tweaked my prick. Anita had become more open, more carefree with me.

"I would like to take you back to our conversation a few nights ago. Drop your napkin in your lap then put you hand under it and rub your pussy lips, do it for me, that's it," Anita dropped her napkin into her lap, "now slowly rub right down your lips then slowly back up, catching your clitoris with your finger."

Anita's eyes closed and then the worst happened, she choked on the crust of the sourdough bread that she was eating. She coughed, her foot disappeared from my lap, and her eyes were watering as she coughed repeatedly, struggling to clear the obstruction from her throat.

I rose out of my chair and bending at the waist to hide my embarrassment, I moved behind her. I lightly slapped her back as she slowly recovered. I sat down again as Anita took a sip of wine.

Through red and watering eyes she said quietly, "How romantic of me."

"We'll probably remember this night forever, just because you choked," I said not able to stop myself grinning.

She smiled half heartedly as she picked up her small handbag, "I'll be back, I need to powder my whole face."

Her twisting of the euphemism - 'I need to powder my nose' - caused me to laugh loudly, the guests at a nearby table stared at me, irritated by my interruption.

When we had finished eating we continued to sit in the dimly lit restaurant, talking, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere of the restaurant, and after an hour I could not hold back.

"Marry me?"

"Yes, and I will love you forever, I want to be your wife and you're the only man I want for a husband."