CHAPTER 35
Farah applied her makeup with a practiced hand, grateful for the privacy she enjoyed at the farm. When she lived in the palace as a bride, her maid, Yvonne, had expected to comb and brush her hair, draw her bath, and help her dress, and was upset when Farah wanted to do these tasks for herself. Farah had gradually grown accustomed to having some things done for her, but not her personal grooming.
And how fortunate that had turned out to be, for as the years passed Farah's appearance had not changed from that of a young girl. It took practiced artistry for her to appear old enough to be the mother of teenage children and avoid being mistaken for her daughter Megan, who was, as they say, the "spitting image" of her mother.
Jason had never anticipated this. Or had he? She suddenly remembered a conversation she had had with him shortly before he was killed. She had called him from her apartment. When he answered from his laboratory, he was hardly able to contain his excitement at something he "had noticed before but the significance of which he had not understood at the time." When she said she hoped it wouldn't turn her back into Donna Harris, he had laughed and told her she could "count on being Farah for a long time."
She wondered, and not for the first time, if further experiments with the "treatment" ( she knew no other word for it) she had undergone led him to suspect it would not only restore youth but would also postpone the aging process indefinitely. She suddenly felt cold. She didn't think she could cope with immortality.
But of course that was nonsense. She had known several women who appeared much younger than their years, even without a face lift. It wasn't impossible for visible signs of aging to be delayed naturally.
She would put it out of her mind. As long as she could solve the problem with makeup she wouldn't worry. She had become expert at it, and with a shadow here and a line there, managed to appear several years older. A few people continued to comment on her youthful appearance, though no one seemed to find it unusual.
But living in close quarters with Michael was something else. When he began to seem puzzled by her failure to age, she had felt she owed him an explanation.
"You remember I told you I was in a bad way mentally and physically when Jason took me in," she said. "He was working on a medication of great potential, which he prescribed for me. In a short time it made me feel wonderful. Do you suppose it had something in it that would delay aging?"
"The fountain of youth!" Michael said. "I'd like to have some of that myself. What became of his formula?"
"It must have been destroyed in the fire. I looked for it but it was nowhere to be found. And that's too bad, for if it was everything he hoped it was, it would have established Jason as a great man."
"Oh, he WAS a great man, and I owe him a lot."
"Like what?"
"Like waking up every morning the rest of my life and finding a young and beautiful princess asleep beside me."
"I'm the one who's lucky. I still feel like Cinderella when you wake me every morning with a kiss."
"Not Cinderella, darling, Sleeping Beauty."
"Whatever."
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Oh, all right. I always feel like Cinderella or WHATEVER when a HANDSOME PRINCE wakes me up with a kiss."
"That's better," he said, and they had fallen giggling onto the bed.
Farah smiled now at the memory, and at the thought of Jason who had made such happy memories possible. She had had many doubts about marrying Michael. Their backgrounds were so dissimilar. He was of a different nationality and a prince at that. But her fears were groundless, they were perfectly compatible. Michael was considerate, generous, loving, and blessed with a wonderful sense of Fun. And during all the years of marriage, he had remained the same. She never had cause to doubt him. Except for that one time.
Farah closed her mind quickly on that episode; she hadn't the time nor the inclination now to explore it.
She brought her thoughts back to the business at hand and decided to add shadows under her eyes to indicate grief, for she was flying to Boston today for the funeral of Aunt Margaret. As she remembered how much Margaret had come to mean to her over the years, the tears spilled from her eyes and washed the shadows down her cheeks. Margaret would have howled with laughter at that, she thought, and smiled through her tears. She had loved Margaret as she had loved Jason, and didn't need artificial shadows to prove her grief.
Michael finished giving final instructions to his staff about the work to be done during his absence, and came to see if Farah was ready to depart. They were flying in the official government plane, with guards, because of the terrorism rampant in the world. Alexandra, who over the years had become fast friends with Margaret, was to accompany them, but both she and Michael would fly home after two days. They would leave Farah for a visit with Margaret's family, who were also Farah's family, for they had opened their arms to her when Jason adopted her and the bonds had grown stronger with the years.