Page 67 of The Phoenix Bride
He comes to me and bows, then shakes my hand for good measure. He remains as handsome as the last time I saw him, a few weeks ago, but his hair is a little longer, ginger curls just brushing his jaw. A thin film of stubble covers his cheeks, and there are dark bags under his eyes.
“Please, sit,” he says, and we return to the booth. Once he has ordered coffee for both of us, he asks, “What brings you here?”
“Impulse, mostly,” I say.
“Looking for David?” I must fail to hide my chagrin, because he chuckles. “You will not find him here for a while yet, I am afraid.”
“Why is that?”
Jan’s expression sobers. “His father passed,” he says. “Nearthree weeks ago now. He has finished his period of mourning, but he is still keeping to himself.”
My breath catches in my throat. I never knew Gaspar Mendes, of course, but David mentioned him, and I know they were close. I feel grief on David’s behalf, in a helpless, self-resenting sort of way. While he has been mourning, I have been playing harpsichord at parties and drinking with the king; it all feels so frivolous when compared with something so terrible.
“I am sorry,” I say.
“Why?” Jan asks. “It is not your fault, Cecilia.”
“I think I have caused David far more harm than good. And now this—I fear I have merely added to his suffering.”
Jan frowns and considers this as the server comes and sets up our coffee. He lifts the lid off the pot to inspect it, sniffing, then nods. “This is a good batch,” he says.
“Look, I—”
“What has happened—no one could have prevented it,” Jan tells me. “We cannot choose whom we love. If we could, my life would certainly be far easier. Neither of you is responsible, and yet you both seem determined to take the blame.”
“I have made his life more difficult.”
“And he yours, in some ways, surely? You are being fools, both of you.” He pours us the coffee. “He is bereft without you. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
“He told me we couldn’t see each other again.”
Jan rolls his eyes. “For a Jew, David would certainly make a good martyr.”
I snort in amusement and take a sip from my dish. It is so strong it makes my toes curl. “Yes, he would.”
“You could find him if you wanted,” Jan says.
“I know.”
“I think he would be glad to see you, for all he has pretended otherwise.”
“My sister spoke unforgivably to him,” I reply.
“You are not your sister.”
“I am engaged to be married.”
“Really?” Jan shrugs. “You have not said the vows.”
I take another sip, and I shudder at the bitterness. “I—Ican’t,Jan.”
“Why not? You came here tonight to see him, no?”
My gut squirms. “I wasn’t thinking. I was flinging myself into the fire, as I always do.”
“How so?”
“If I had seen him, nothing would have changed. He would have told me to leave, told me he didn’t want me the way I want him.”
