Until the death

UNTIL THE DEATH...

by

Cristina Pereyra

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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WHAT DOES THE HOLY PROMISE UNTIL DEATH DOES US PART?

They feel very young and had to postpone the opportunity to live this love for a long time. When the dreams materialized, when the happiness seemed to have reached, came the blow. Less than a year after the wedding, the pain of loss.

The death of Len takes Jane on the edge of madness, and when she starts to regain your own way... is a downturn in your life. The passion for Zahi, an attractive Vizier of the Emirate where Jane search the internal peace, come along with a terrible discovery.

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Until the death...

Copyright © 2011 by Cristina Pereira de Azevedo

All the characters in this book have no existence outside

the imagination of the author, and have no relation

whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.

They are not even distantly inspired by

any individual known or unknown to the author,

and all the incidents are pure invention.

Publisher: Cristina P. de Azevedo en Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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CHAPTER 1

Jane straightened his broad-brimmed hat nonchalantly. His eyes sought to capture the perfect clarity of the place. With precise strokes, created the division between sea and sky, so faint, yet noticeable. Stepped back, looked closely at the screen attached to the easel, comparing his work with reality. Satisfied, he smiled. Failed to reproduce the solitude and vastness of that inhospitable beach in the Gulf of Aden, a few kilometers from the capital. The place had a magical beauty that touched your heart hurt.

While reapply sunscreen on the body exposed to the relentless sun of the desert region, she passed her short life. He was just over twenty-three years and was a widow for more than two. Spent more time away from the man who loved than to his side. It was a love so pure, so strong... and so soon. She could not say when in love with Len when she realized that he felt this feeling it was so intense that he could not say when he was born. It was probably the moment plunged in those green eyes so pure, sincere and naive. Those were years of hard work at the Texas ranch where she was born, and he had arrived at a young age, after the separation in the war that made him so much fear for the life of Leonard. When Len was discharged from the army, and they began to build his happiness, a stray bullet snatched her husband ten months after the wedding. Tears ran down her cheeks the young man what to unravel pearls of a necklace.

Sitting next to the young, was a man of his age, whose green eyes looked at him with devotion and pain. He never liked to see her crying, and it rarely happened. In the past, it was he who cried and consoled her. He was weak, many said, a crying baby that even the Gulf war did grow. Jane had always been strong, and even being capable of feeling so delicate as his, not externally in the form of tears. She always had dried her tears, but since that day in the subway station, she cried every day he could not comfort her.

Len smiled sweetly for her who was his wife. Even if she does not realize he liked to be with her. The only thing in this situation was unable to let her know he was well and remained at his side. The angels had said that maybe someday she could communicate with him for hours, he could only wait for this moment by his side.

As every day, this time the tide ebbed, he emerged from behind the rocks that interrupted the beach, riding in a swirl of white clothes and drops of water that sparkled in the sunlight. The visual impact of this image in Jane was still the same the first time she saw him for over a month ago. After the death of Len, she dedicated to painting as a therapy to ward off the pain, study hard, deepening their knowledge of techniques and styles. In the first months of solitude, his paintings were almost surreal, attempts to express its interior. Dark tones, deformed figures and pain, that's what peopled their works. This did not alleviate the void that left Leonard in his life and in his chest.

One day, just over one year in an explosion of anger, destroyed all those paintings painful then collapsed to the ground, weeping convulsively amid the rags of his canvases. That was the day that Emily showed him the path. His childhood friend had come into his studio in the old ranch house and, with that delicacy peculiar to him, consoled her pain. Emily turns that love is born, grow and be stopped. No one else could know so well what it felt like her friend Jane, the person with whom to share their findings, doubts and fears. Emily said she understood that she was not satisfied with those expressions of pain in his paintings, never fill the void of a person with Len as bright as that. That was the answer that Jane was looking for. Since then, he had sought the beauty of the world to put into his paintings, and the final answer when he had come ashore there. The light was pure desert and illuminated everything around him as Len did in her life.

Jane looked back at your screen. That image was all that was not there, try to put it tomorrow. Len accompanied him look and began to imagine what it was intended to put that picture. Could not avoid the jealousy that you robbed the first time that the man had approached her. In the early days that Jane had come to the beach, he just rode; soon as she started her painting sketches, if approached, to win his friendship. Without either of them could see him, Len was there, watching the conversation, taking care of Jane as a jealous brother. Oblivious to the spiritual presence that accompanied the beautiful women, the man approached. Dismounting lightly from his bay horse, greeted Jane with a smile and turned to easel painting.

'Still amazes me how you managed to play to perfection this beach'. The man spoke with a deep voice, staring at the screen.

'It's just a matter of technique', Jane justified. 'Nothing more.'

'No, Jane', he raised his dark eyes in her direction in a velvety look. 'It's a matter of sensitivity. You expressed in this painting the love I have for this land.'

Jane blushed to hear that Len and felt an overwhelming desire to punch the guy, but... In the condition it was, this would not result in anything. At best, the man would feel a breeze going through your face.

'It's not my job that is perfect, this place'. Jane said, fixing the troubled look in the turquoise sea.

The man smiled.

'Yes.'

They were silent about a long time. He looked at Jane, fascinated. The woman's face expressed profound contrasts: pain and pleasure, strength and fragility, and that captivated him. Jane was upset with his manly presence at his side. It made her feel alive, but also lonely. He had to admit that the man's virility exotic excited, and at the same time, caused him a strange sense of guilt. Len watching them, I would be able to read the thoughts... at least the Jane.

'I came to redo the invitation that you did yesterday'. He still stared at the face of Jane, and she was forced to look at it.

'I told you, Vizier, I am available for parties', she said.

'Has not been even curious about our customs?' He insisted.

'Yes, but I'm not in the mood for that now'. Jane exhibited a polite smile. 'Perhaps in another time.'

'I understand your pain, but I see no reason to close it'. The look and voice of the Vizier were velvety, contrasting with its enigmatic features tough. 'I'm sure your husband would like to see her resuming her life, being happy.'

Jane shook, could not discern whether the idea was implicit in the phrase or the pain of living without Len.

'I know. I'm trying.'

Len wanted to shout that he wanted this to Jane, yes, but her happiness did not include man being seduced by this pretentious. However, shouting or whispering it would not matter anyway would not be heard. He controlled his anger.

'Your company gives me much pleasure, and I regret every moment I spend away from you'. The man continued in that velvety tone. 'I would soon give me more opportunities to have