Chapter 33 1865 - France
CLAUDE AND YOSHI
The greatest of Japanese poets could not express what her heart felt at that moment.
Yoshi was so conflicted and so full at the same time.
For over a year, she had longed for home.
Now, in this moment, she wished to stay longer.
Who is this man who awakened my heart? He was so different from anyone she had met, and he made her feel things she had never felt in her life.
The world around her seemed much brighter.
The pair sat on the lawn, looking at her first painting, and nibbling on the snacks from the picnic basket.
Halfway through the painting, the artist could not help himself.
He jumped up, grabbed a brush, and helped her with some details, and in those few hours, taught her to see the world with new eyes.
Perhaps that was what confused her. He seemed to bring out something different in her, and maybe she saw herself with fresh eyes.
“Ma belle, you have painted a masterpiece!”
She giggled, knowing the truth. “It only looks like a lake because of your help,” she said.
“Now you have to sign it,” he said, handing her a fine-tipped brush.
She shook her head. “It is no use…you should reuse the canvas.”
He nodded his head, smiled, and dabbed the brush in red. “Then I will sign it for the both of us.”
He gazed at the painting and paused. Then, near the bottom right, he made a small heart and wrote “OSCAR she’d never asked for it. Her world had been so perfectly ordered and arranged. Yet she wanted it all, she wanted all of him. Was this the love that the great poets wrote of?
She searched his eyes for answers but found none.
“Our hearts have bumped together, and you have changed me forever,” she whispered.
She rose on her toes to kiss him again, when the sound of her father’s voice rippled across the pond.
“Shibata Yuria!”
She instantly backed away, quickly wrapped her hair into a bun, pulled the jade hair pin from her sleeve and secured it in place. “I am so sorry, but we must go.”
She hurried around the corner of the building and leaped into the boat without help.
Oscar did the same and rowed with deep strokes toward the boat dock.
“Did you see your father was holding your weapon?”
“Please, OsCar, when we get to the shore, let my father help me out of the boat.”
“Oh my gosh, he is going to cut me in two. Quick, teach me how to tell him I’m sorry for making him wait.”
“Omatase shite mōshiwake arimasen.”
“No, something I can say.” Sweat broke out on his brow.
“Try this one, Arigato gozaimasu, sumimasen,” she said slowly.
She kept repeating it with him and was surprised how well he caught on.
Oscar quickly rowed across the lake and let the boat slide into the gravel in front of her father. She stood and bowed deeply. “Forgive me, father, we were just letting time pass until your return. I hope you have had a favorable day.”
Her father grunted and stared at Monet as he stood, bowed and said in near perfect Japanese. “Arigato gozaimasu, sumimasen.”
It caught her father off guard, and he seemed to relax. “You have spent too much time together, I see,” he scolded her.
By then, Monet had leapt from the boat and retrieved his painting. Before presenting it to him, he bowed again and said, “Arigato gozaimasu, sumimasen.” Then he turned the painting of his daughter around.
Her father instantly softened, mesmerized by the image. Then, a wide smile crossed his face, and he said, “It is a truly masterful job of capturing my daughter.” He bowed to Monet and said, “Domo arigato gozaimasu.”
Monet held out the painting for him to take. Her father handed the weapon to his daughter and took the painting.
Before returning to the chateau, he said to Yuria, “You may say your goodbyes. We leave for Paris in the morning.”
She turned to Monet. “I am sorry, OsCar…”
“No!” he pleaded. “This cannot be another fleeting moment of beauty for me. I cannot bear it. I’m afraid my heart will explode.”
“I must go. All the negotiations must have gone well as we leave for Paris in the morning and La Havre the next day.”
They stood in silence.
Julia bowed and said, “I will never forget you. You have made my heart beat with a new rhythm.”