Gustav's Kiss

Gustav's Kiss

         Lady Octavia pointed her feet in the direction of the small village that lay nestled less than a mile from her family’s rich estates. The autumn leaves and dry grass crackled under her feet like a fire warming a winter’s hearth. With a spring in her step, she walked briskly down the village pathway, excited and eager to reach the small hamlet ahead.
         These short visits to the village were the only break in her monotonous days of grooming to become the perfect wife for some rich nabob of the nobility, her parents’ greatest wish for her future. Two months ago, on a sojourn to the village for a few grocery and sewing items, she stumbled upon an artist’s shop nestled inconspicuously between the bakery and the seamstress’s shop and the course of her future was changed in an instant.
         Octavia marched on, a slight nip in the September air adding impetus to her momentum. A playful wind grabbed tentacles of her auburn hair and whipped them playfully about her face, her delicate features slightly reddened by the crispness of fall. As she approached the village proper, she saw the inhabitants going about their daily business, plying their trades and wares. Nodding to those whom she recognized, Octavia continued on her journey, not stopping to chat with the village ladies as she usually did. Though her parents frowned upon fraternizing with the villagers, as they considered them beneath their station, Octavia enjoyed the camaraderie and had secretly befriended several younger girls close to her age.
         At last, her musings put aside for the moment, Octavia approached the nondescript wooden door of the artist’s shop. Grasping the rough wooden handle, she pushed in the door and crossed the threshold.
         A giant, dark haired man turned from his easel as she stepped inside. Closing the door behind her, Octavia leaned up against it for a moment and tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. He was there, really there, as he’d promised.
         “Hello, Lady Octavia,” he said in a deep, purring voice. “How lovely you look today.”
         “Thank you, Herr Gustav,” she said breathlessly. “Have you the art I commissioned from you completed? You said today would be the day.” Her voice held an odd note of challenge..
         “Yes My Lady, I have the item here; I will fetch it for you.” He left for the back of the shop, to his living quarters, and selected a folded item off the foot of his bed. Returning to where she waited impatiently, and with a bit of dramatic flair, he flung open the folded item to reveal a magnificent quilt. It was painstakingly crafted of hundreds of squares of gold, white, and black, all in different sizes and configurations and of different materials so that it seemed to take on a life of its own. She gasped at its glorious beauty, and he drank in her rapture like wine.
         Two months ago, when she’d entered his shop and changed everything with her innocent beauty and childlike wonder, Gustav had never known such a creature could enter his realm and mess up his life so thoroughly. She had breezed in without a care, and created such a clatter that he’d completely destroyed the painting he had been working on, a kaleidoscope of colors that now had a giant black splotch on it. As she’d slammed the door shut, he had bellowed “Who is the bumbling oaf that marches into an artist’s shop like a bull in a china closet!?” only to turn around and find her standing there, wide eyed at his wrath. His anger had turned instantly to shame, and he apologized profusely, aware that a Lady of the realm stood before him and he could easily be in quite a lot of trouble for his outburst. He ushered her to a seat next to his easel and offered her a bracing drink of wine, as the poor thing appeared to be trembling on the verge of tears.
         “I’m so sorry; please, did I ruin your work?” she’d said with a tremor in her soft voice.
         An unknown emotion had flooded his entire being; he sat down next to her and took her hand in his, rank and station no longer entering his mind. “No, little angel, you have ruined nothing,” he said. “The painting can be fixed, but my inexcusable behavior has caused you to fear me, and this I do not want. I am Gustav, the very rude and boorish artist who has just moved here and already made an ass of himself. If you can forgive me, I would love to show you my work.”
         She blushed prettily at his words and nodded eagerly at his offer to view his work. All her fears now put aside, she launched into a patter of questions and comments about the paintings seen on the walls, asking about his technique and inspiration. She took his breath away.
         Now these short months later, he was no less taken with her than when they had first met in such stormy fashion. He suspected she felt the same, since she had commissioned the village seamstress to fashion the amazing quilt after one of his paintings; the very painting that had been seemingly ruined on the day they’d met. He did not ask, but suspected she wanted one of his paintings yet was afraid her parents would disapprove. A quilt was an item of necessity as well as beauty and created by women, therefore, no threat to their future plans for their daughter. An interest in his paintings may have alerted them to her interest in the very unfit artist.
         Octavia knew she was in trouble. The moment that the giant man had bellowed and scared the life out of her, she had resisted the urge to flee. She was glad she had done so, for the next moment he engulfed her tiny hand in his enormous one and held it there, tenderly for all his size. His sensitive fingers stroked hers gently, though he himself was unaware he was doing so; the touch electrified her and her skin tingled at the connection.
         As time went on, she eagerly awaited every moment she could be with him, every stolen glance or accidental touch setting her blood singing with fire. These unfamiliar feelings were unsettling, but welcome; they made her feel alive, as she had never felt before.
          “Thank you Herr Gustav, it is most beautiful. I shall have to thank the seamstress and her assistants as well, they have done an excellent job with this masterpiece,” she said to him, the corners of her mouth dimpling with her delighted smile.
         “You are most welcome, Lady Octavia. Does this mean you no longer have a need to grace us with your beautiful presence?”
         She bowed her head, visibly distressed at the realization that she no longer had an excuse to visit the village every few days. The servants could easily select groceries, a point her mother had made a few times. She had mentioned she was also visiting the seamstress, which was true and a good, ladylike pastime of which her mother approved. But once her brief visit with the seamstress was completed, she had been sneaking over to Gustav’s studio to watch him work, or talk, or simply be in his presence. That was all ending, now that the quilt was finished.
         “Yes Herr Gustav, I believe it is so. I thank you for putting up with me these many weeks, and for immortalizing your beautiful painting in this wonderful quilt. I will cherish it always, and wrap myself in its warm comfort, much as your friendship has done the same,” she said in a soft, sad voice.
         His heart broke to see her anguish, and instantly a voice within him cried out against the severing of their ties. “Octavia…,” he began. “Sometimes, at about this time, I take a walk to the magnificent tree in the east field and have a snack before I return to my work. Would you care to join me there?”
         She knew she should say no, to return to her lonely existence and await whatever husband her fate and parents chose for her. But all the time spent in his engaging presence had allowed her to fall in love with Gustav, and she could no more refuse him than she could cease breathing. She nodded slightly in acquiescence.
         Boyishly, he grinned at her, and grabbed his leather bag and stuffed the wonderful quilt inside, tossing apples, bread, and wine on top of it with haste. Grabbing her hand, they fled out the back door of the studio and into the fields, beyond sight of prying eyes and gossip. He kept her hand in his as he slowed his pace to match her shorter stride, and adjusted the strap on his leather bag so it settled between his shoulder blades. She cast admiring glances at his black curls as they shone in the mellow fall sunlight. As they walked peaceably together, she would occasionally dart off the path and twine flowers into her sun kissed hair, charming him utterly. They walked comfortably in silence until they reached the east field, where the branches of a lone tree broke the azure sky into stained glass fragments. They stopped beneath its spreading canopy and regarded one another in a sudden mood of solemnity. Though the sky was blue and bright, both felt a sudden shift in the air, a darkness that moved over them and shielded them from the intrusion of brightness beyond the tree.
         “I love you, Gustav,” she said clearly. “I have for a long time now, and it seems as though I have loved you all my life. My heart is breaking that our time is over.”
         “Octavia…angel,” he said. “I was born to love you. I can never let you go now. Please…,” he begged. “Please, come away with me! We will never be rich as your family, but we will have enduring love and passion, and these are riches that cannot be bought with gold!”
         Her heart melted at his confession and his plea. She threw herself into his arms and gave herself to him completely, forever. Gustav wrapped them in the dazzling quilt, beginning their life together with every ounce of passion any man has ever put into one perfect kiss.