LESSONS IN LOVE
1
The house and gardens were quiet. Tomas had a chance to work and not be disturbed. The waters of Lake Neuchatel glittered in the blaze of sunlight out of a cloudless azure blue sky, the gentle breeze tugging at the edges of the parasol making them rustle. He had forsaken its shade, choosing to work and sunbathe before the heat of the day forced him to go indoors or to laze by the pool; slipping in and out of its cooling waters like an amphibian.
His uncle and aunt, Marc and Karin Bachmann owned the villa, its choice of location inviting a great deal of unsought interest. And his cousins, Alvin and Krister, two guys that seemed to spend all of their time mountain-biking or sailing, when they weren't chasing the girls at every party they could crash or got invited to? They were out.
They weren't near the top of any academic tree and seemed not too bothered by the prospect of their future careers narrowing until they were to be seen as little more than 'also-rans'.
He, on the other hand, soon to turn nineteen, was revising for university entry exams. But there was no reason to be closed off while he did that. Exams, university, and a helping hand from Bachmann's connections might see him pursue a career in finance. Applied Economics was to be read and majored in at university. It was work, with its myriad of threads, and pursued in an environment where the Bachmann family thrived. It was also a world that allowed them to live a rich, but not overtly ostentatious lifestyle.
His father, Janne Bachmann, had used those words many times. In the same breath, he had told his eldest son to be grateful for all that he had and to also think of others.
Well, he had done just that.
A week of his valuable summer holidays had been spent doing charitable work back home in Berne. But now, he could enjoy being here and could seek the privacy that his bedroom, with an en-suite shower room, offered whenever it was needed. He'd take to the waters of the lake at a time of his choosing, The boathouse sheltered the dinghies that could be beached on the villa's private shore, so there was much to be grateful for. There were many distractions on offer save that of some favoured female company.
But of that, he rarely spoke.
He had his irksome cousins to deal with, somehow, as he studied in the mornings and then went out with them, sailing or mountain biking -- preferring the biking -- and going out with Alvin and Krister. But they had their girlfriends and those that he knew, and fumbled with at parties? They were in Berne.
'You've got other priorities at the minute,' he'd tell himself when those two gave up badgering him to come out or to stay out late. It didn't stop him from having his frustrations, but Karin always had an understanding smile, or she'd say a few soft words out of the boy's hearing and after their teasing of him got too much to take and he reacted.
There were another three weeks to take of this, of listening to the noisy set-to's that characterised the household when Alvin and Krister stepped out of line. But Uncle Marc settled that, leaving him to form a closer bond with Karin. Other members of the family called in; stayed a few days and then left again.
Yes, Karin made his life here a great deal easier and she was someone he could focus his attention on, whenever they were together. For the moment, he had the place to himself and only the maid in the house dealing with her chores.
'I won't be long, Tom,' Karin had called out to him before she left earlier that morning. 'We need a few things for lunch and supper! Do you want me to bring you anything?'
Your touch and company he kept from saying.
'No thanks" I'm okay. kay! I'm not going anywhere...'
'And, don't burn, will you? Put some oil on?'
She had her softer ways with him when the others weren't about, or out of hearing, and they could talk on a variety of subjects that were of interest to them. They often fell into talking at family gatherings, usually at Christmas and when she and Marc invited everyone to the house. It would be crammed to the eaves and groups could enjoy what the place had to offer, even at the coldest times of the year.
They could appreciate the views of the snow-topped mountains and not stray very far. They could share in things, or with a few others, younger and playful cousins; he would help out with household chores that usually put him at odds with Alvin and Krister.
'My troublesome two,' Karin sometimes murmured, even confiding that they did not share any of her interests and particularly her skills in playing music. It required too much dedication and discipline to do all that was required of them to be musicians, at whatever level. 'The boys take after Marc. So, I'm glad that you're with me in that, I really am. You're a kindred spirit,' she had even confided.
He simply enjoyed Karin's uncomplicated company and had even felt the rush of infatuation with the woman and her ways. Karin just sensed that he was made of different stuff from the brothers, even if they were her sons. He had lost count of the times they ribbed him about girls, about his seeming ineptitude with them.
'I just do things differently,' he had said a couple of nights ago during heated exchanges at the dinner table. He had felt a moment's consoling touch to his hand from Karin that had set his pulse racing.
'Just work things out in your head when we meet up with the girls...or those we meet at parties,' Alvin had told him as if he was already an authority on the subject, 'not on that damn exercise machine, or the bike, or in the pool. You're always doing things on your own.'
'Sure, and I should listen to the words of an expert, should I?' he had retorted.
'Francine asks about you...' Krister had gone on to say.
'She's not my type...'
'Who is then?'
'Someone unknowable, Alvin...she's someone you don't judge by how they dress and behave, but from who they are. You look for the hidden person and someone you spend time learning about...sharing what you have in common. It's not all about what you see, on the outside.'
'Wow! Deep, that sure is deep!' Alvin had laughed, more in derision than understanding.
'It's who Tomas is,' Karin told them, siding with him. 'You've chosen your ways and he's got every right to choose his.' She had then turned to him. 'Be who you are, Tom,' she had said in a low and confiding voice. 'Tom' seemed her preferred name for him. 'You'll find a way through...'
'Well,' his uncle Marc, an unadventurous but studious man, soon said by way of a contribution to the chatter across the dinner table, 'don't let opportunities pass you by.'
Tomas thought back on it all and the glances he had met from Karin, as these exchanges continued over only a small part of their evening together.
How wonderful to discover that she played the piano so well; that they had one in a corner of their large and beautifully furnished living room, the walls adorned with paintings and yet the furniture in a modern style. There were treasured artworks in glass and pottery, a small statue on each table that was set against a wall. All of it was seen to lend the room a distinctive quality that only Karin could have brought to it.
She had drawn closer as he played a short piece and he had felt her fingers brush his neck for only an instant before she sat down beside him. It occurred to him that they were drawing ever closer and it was a situation that perplexed and unnerved him in equal measure.
'Claire de Lune...Debussy,' she murmured. 'So slow and thoughtful...'
'And moving, for the emotions that they arouse in the listener and the player of it.'
'Is that what it does for you?'
'Yeah, it does,' he had sighed and risen from the seat without another word. His reactions to her ways with him were getting more confused and irrational. Karin had chosen to play a piece in her accomplished ways and he had instinctively called out its name to her - 'Arabesque!'
'Yes! It's a favourite of mine!'
He had met Marc's approving look upon him.' That skill passed me by, Tomas.'
He'd done the baser things too. He had gone out with Alvin and Krister, only to return home by midnight, recently, the walk up from the bar and bistro, where they had all met up with others whom they knew and were vacationing here. The walk helped in clearing his head.
The lake that night had shimmered in the moonlight and he had chosen to sit down on one of the rattan chairs, with their synthetic but colourfully patterned fabric covers, arranged in pairs on the terrace and forming a square, and with a glass-topped table at the centre of them. Upon it, Karin had placed a large candle in a glass holder. Its flame was often seen to flicker on the evening breeze. Relaxing times were spent out there and they were moments that he had come to cherish.
Karin...Karin, broke into his thoughts, of a special evening together.
2
'I thought it was you,' Karin had called out to him as a door opened from the sitting room. A security light lit a patch of the slabbed terrace. She was seen carrying a wine glass. 'Want a drink...some wine...there's still some left in the bottle? Marc's gone to bed. He's off somewhere tomorrow.'
'I've already had more than enough to drink, Karin, but thank you.'
'Go on, please Tomas? Just for me,' she said somewhat tipsily. Karin had leant down to speak to him and he had breathed in her scent, taking pleasure from how her fingers had brushed his cheek for an instant as he held her gaze upon him.
'Okay, but I'll go and get it, ' he smiled up at her.
'No, you won't...I will,' her hand resting on his shoulder, her fingers now offering the lightest of touches to his neck. 'I'll bring some matches...or are there some in the drawer?' Before he could move she had leant down beside him; this time a hand on his knee. 'No...there's nothing there.' She stood up, giving him a soft smile. 'I won't be long...'
'Go easy on it, please, won't you?' he had called out on a soft laugh. 'I've almost reached the limit...from my time with the others. I've also got my work to get through tomorrow.'
'Sure, or I'll bang on your door if you're late for breakfast. Something tells me that won't be necessary...'
He watched her go, remembered how he had met her backward glance before Karin was lost to his sight.
Her sons had their preferences and favourites. He preferred the look and style of her, the older woman; she who was so captivating in those cropped white jeans and a figure-flattering camisole blouse. Karin, she the woman who had fashioned a thin headband by plaiting her auburn hair; some sun-bleached strands a delight. She had fastened it with a jewelled grip at the back of her head.
She had caught his eye, and much more besides, as Karin handed him his glass of wine and sat down in the chair beside him, her bare feet soon resting against the edge of the low table before them. He'd kicked off his deck shoes and done the same.
They then talked of many things: of music, books and art...travel and family, then trying to identify the stars and planets high in the heavens above them. She was more knowledgeable, and all the while ignoring the chill of the night air.
He had begun to feel blissfully content with her company, that of a gifted woman. And, he had thought no more of the girls his cousins took up with or suggested he should meet. They didn't get close to what Karin brought to him at moments like those they had shared.
