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‘Youcan try.’Shelaughed nervously, attempting to recover herself. ‘Ithink it’s about as likely as turning you into aSpiceGirlsfan, but—you get a sticker for persistence.’
‘Ihave a feeling you’ll like this.It’sBeethoven’sPastoralesymphony…his sixth.’Heplaced the vinyl on the turntable and picked up the needle, dropping it delicately onto the grooved black plastic.Fora moment nothing happened and then the sound of jaunty violins and deep cellos soared through the air.
Shewas willing to try anything once, especially for him.Theanticipation on his face at the idea of sharing this with her made her feel noticed.Likeher enjoying this mattered to him.
Herheart beat a little faster.
Gabrielcradled his red wine glass in his palm and settled next to her on the sofa.
‘What’sso special about this song?’ she asked.
‘Firstof all, he wrote thissongafter he went deaf.WheneverIthink something is too hard,IrememberBeethovenwriting a symphony he could only hear in his head—and it reminds me that nothing is impossible.’Hisgaze lingered on hers briefly before narrowing and cutting to his wine glass.Shewished she could read his mind.Washe thinking about them, too?Didhe think they were impossible?Didhe want them to be possible?
‘Okay, that’s pretty impressive,’ she said as questions leapfrogged through her head.
Hecleared his throat and continued, ‘Butother than that, this one is all about the great outdoors and man’s relationship to nature.Morethan any other symphony, the sixth paints a picture.Layback and close your eyes.’Shefollowed his instructions. ‘Imagineyourself arriving in the countryside.Seethe birds in the air; feel the sun on your face.Imaginethefarmers working in the fields.Everybody’ssmiling.Canyou see it?’
Amazingly, she could.Asthe music unfurled, a sense of deep contentment and relaxation flowed through her veins, similar to the peace that hiking outside in a beautiful landscape inspired.Shebreathed deeply like she stood on a mountaintop.Gabriel’sthumb stroked along the back of her hand, further lulling her into a cocoon of tranquility.Shecould stay here forever.
Theyremained silent as they listened together.Thenas the strings took over, he said, ‘Nowwe’re standing near a brook, the water pouring over the rocks…’
‘Ican hear it.’Shegrinned, marvelling as the picture formed in her head through the soundscape.
‘…Thebirds are trilling.Theflute and oboe are two nightingales, jumping from branch to branch…now the clarinets are a cuckoo bird…’
‘Thisis magical.’Shecompletely saw what he was describing, a forest full of life.Beethovenpainted with notes.DisobeyingGabriel’sorders for a moment, she cracked open an eye and peeked over at him.Hewas watching her, an unguarded smile on his face that made her stomach flip.
‘Enjoyingit so far?’ he asked.
Shenodded and he leaned towards her ear, whispering, ‘Justwait til the end.’Athrill charged through her.
Takinga sip of her wine, she rolled it around her tongue and then laid her head back again, re-closing her eyes.
Gabrielcontinued describing the next section, the country folk dancing, stamping their feet and making merry.Jessvisualised the blue sky, the free-flowing beer, people lounging on hay bales.
‘Butthen, because every good thing must come to an end, a thunderstorm arrives.’
Cymbalscrashed and drums beat, the music churning urgent and angry.Itsounded just like thunder and lightning and echoed the tempest inside of her.Hiswords reminded her that they’d be leaving here tomorrow.Shefrowned.Jesswished they could stay in this bubble, avoid real life, even just for another day.Thetime was passing too fast.Tearsformed behind her eyelids, and her breathing became fast and shallow, edged with sadness, caught up in the hectic drive of the symphony.
‘Butnow the sun is coming back out again,’ he said and it filled her with relief.Hope.
Themusic changed, turning calmer and brighter.Shedidn’t needGabrielto tell her what was happening anymore.Thecountry folk emerged from their houses; the cows called out in the fields; the blue sky reappeared.
‘Keepyour eyes closed,’Gabrielsaid as he lifted the wine glass from her hand.Sheheard the gentle donk of the base hitting the wood as he placed it on the side table.
Shedid as instructed and listened to the horns and strings tumble over each other in happiness.Arustle of cloth caught her ear asGabrielshifted his body.Sheonly realised that he was kneeling between her legs when his hands grasped her hips and pulled her down towards him, so that her bottom lined up with the edge of the sofa.
Jessyelped.Eyesstill shut, she smiled. ‘Gabriel, what are you?—?’
‘Shhh,’ he said. ‘Justtrust me.Listen.Feel.’
Hisfingers slipped under the hem of her dress and peeled her underwear slowly down her legs.Hepushed the fabric of her skirt up around her waist and the air hit her naked skin.Theperson she used to be would have hated being on display like this, but withGabriel, it made her insides dance with anticipation.
‘Youare exquisite,’ he said, as he looped his arms under her legs, pushing her knees up.Hisbreath tickled her inner thigh.Shebit her lip, looking forward to what was coming next.Herbreathing shallowed.Themusic grew more urgent, like it was heading towards something big.
Hislips touched the most sensitive part of her.Thenhe licked right up her seam before burying his tongue completely in her, his head nestled deep between her thighs.
Jesssighed.Themusic filled her head, the notes tumbling over each other in their eagerness to reach the end.Inher mind’s eye, the country folk danced in an orgy of good fortune.Herhands fisted around the piped edge of the sofa cushion and squeezed.Inthat moment, life coursed through her, like it did when she was on the helicopter.ShewasMotherNatureherself.Fertile.Giving.Andvery, very wet.
