Lamentations V

The fire was burning slow and even, casting a golden light throughout the room and putting off a radiant heat that banished the chill and dampness from the air and warmed the bedding where Bill lay with Laura.

She was warmer now and he was relieved that she seemed less lost than earlier, though she hadn’t said a word since they’d made love. Neither of them had spoken actually. The one time he’d tried, she covered his mouth with her hand and shook her head, eyes glistening with still falling tears but so full of love. He’d acceded to her wishes and still held his tongue. And he held her.

As he spooned behind her, she lay with her head on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his. She clung to him tightly enough for him to know she was still awake. He could feel her breaths soft and warm against his skin, the brush of her eyelashes when she blinked, and the occasional burn of an escaped tear, making him wish he could see her face, see if her gaze was focused on the flickering flames in the heath.

He imagined they were as he caressed her gently, the fingers of his free hand moving lightly through her luminous red hair then skimming from her shoulder to her elbow and back up again. He made the circuit again and again with fingers and palm, sometimes featherlight, other times firmer, loving when a particular pass would raise gooseflesh or make her tremble or undulate head to toe, but especially when it would make her relax or let out a contented hum or sigh.

Making love had helped her, he thought, had brought her a measure of peace, but he wanted so much to soothe her further. He couldn’t take away the reason for her distress, but he thought he might be able to help her ease enough to rest. She needed to rest. She needed…

“Can we stay here? I want to be here.”

The words were so soft, so full of an emotion he didn’t know how to name. But that didn’t matter because he knew how to answer.

Tilting his head to press a kiss to the top her head, he whispered softly, “Yeah. I’ll arrange to have the power and water turned on. See if they can come out tomorrow.” He nuzzled her gently, asking, “You want to find a furniture store, get us a bed?”

That question earned a nod and might have even netted a smile. He felt what he thought might have been the muscles of her cheek bunching against his bicep. It wasn’t a big movement, but he’d take what he could get, knowing that there were probably going to be a lot of ups and downs for a while.

There was a sigh then. “I need to call…,” she began then took a quickly indrawn breath. “Oh my gods, I didn’t call the office,” she said, shifting as if she might rise.

Bill stilled her with a tightening of his right arm around her and smoothed his other hand down her arm. “I took care of it,” he told her softly, hoping to allay her concerns. “I spoke to your secretary,” he elaborated. “Told her you weren’t feeling well, and you’d call in the morning.”

Tension flooded out of her at his words and she shifted her head just enough to press a gentle, lingering kiss to his arm in conjunction with a soft “thank you.”

He smiled, again nuzzled into her hair, wanting to tell her that was his job as her partner — because it was. Instead, he murmured, “You’re welcome,” then ventured, “Are you hungry?”

Surprisingly, she nodded. He really hadn’t expected her to be, had expected he’d have to prod her to eat at least a little out of necessity. He was glad he didn’t have to, fearing upsetting her. He was also a little hungry himself, the adrenaline rush of earlier events having subsided.

“I don’t know what they got for us,” he confessed to her, though, because he’d never checked the bags to see.

This time he definitely felt a smile then, almost mischievously, “Let’s see.”

He chuckled when she extracted herself from around his arm and sat up, just lay there and watched her as she reached for the flannel shirt he’d put her in earlier. She slipped it on and reached for the bag, dragged it over to where she chose to sit, which was right beside him, close enough for him to still feel her warmth and accessible for him to touch.

So he did, reaching up to untuck her hair from the collar of the shirt then guiding it into a sultry fall of riotous curls down her back, against the blue and black pattern of the soft material.

It amused him that she paid him no attention while she dug around in the bag, pulling out the requested bottle of Ambrosia, then a couple boxes of the cigarillos, then the food. There was a box of crackers, a couple apples and Virgon red oranges, a jar of Gemenese almond butter, a knife in a package, and several bottles of water and a couple of pear juice. There were napkins, too, and — Laura actually let out a soft, laughing hum when she saw it — a roll of bathroom tissue.

“Never let it be said security agents aren’t practical,” she said as she set it aside.

Bill chuckled. “They did good.”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes landing on him. Tears gathered quickly in them but they didn’t fall when she smiled, nor when she whispered, “So did you.”

Bill just smiled at her. He didn’t know what to say. He had only reacted to get to her and then to meet her needs. He was glad she’d let him do those things,and asked him to make love with her. He had needed it as much as she had in some ways, especially after she’d kept him at arm’s length earlier, not letting him go with her to the doctor and lend his support. Then when she’d fled down here to Port Thetis instead of coming to her house in the city…

He knew she hadn’t been running from him, but to their home.

It had been on her mind all week as she made plans for the renovations and furnishings, trying to get as much done as possible because she knew those things were going to take time that she might have difficulty finding in the weeks to come. He’d helped her get a jump on them, spending a couple evenings on her living room couch talking about the colors and types of fabrics they might like and coming to some decisions.

They’d settled on having the exterior repainted a pale blue-gray with white trim on both the house and cottage, and to decorate largely in browns and blues, with accents of greens, reds, and golden yellows. She wanted leather sofas and chairs, medium woods for tables and frames to complement the hardwood floors, and he’d agreed. The walls of the place were white and she didn’t want to change them, just wanted to add drapes and blinds on the windows and decorate each room thematically. He’d agreed to that and just enjoyed sitting and listening to her and watching her thumb through magazines and catalogs beside him, making notes when he pointed out something he liked, whether a specific item or style.

She’d been infectiously happy as they’d planned what things to add to make their home a comfortable living space, to make it truly theirs, and he’d enjoyed every moment of it with her, loved knowing that making a life with him was something she truly wanted.

He wanted that, too, now more than ever and, from the look in her eyes, he knew she did to, which only solidified his belief she had not walked into the sea today to harm herself but to seek some sort of comfort in the embrace of the waves.

One day, he hoped he would know what exactly she’d needed from the water but, for now, it was enough to know she’d found it and was now safe and warm with him, that they were in their home. And they were going to make it a home, regardless of what she’d learned today, he wanted to assure her of that.

Smiling at her, he said softly, “You know it’s going to be noisy around here in a few weeks.”

“We’ll manage,” she said, her smile brightening a bit and eyes sparkling.

“Yes,” he agreed, about living with the sounds of hammers and power tools and everything else that they were facing in the days ahead, and he saw that she knew it, her smile wavering, her eyes growing glassy as troublesome emotions stirred to the surface again.

Hoping to prevent them from becoming entrenched again quite so soon, he sought to distract her, held out his hand, asked softly, “Think I could have one of those oranges, baby?”

Her reply was simple but her tone layered with meaning: “You can have whatever you want.”

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