
by
KELSEY LEWIS
Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://www.amberquill.com
An Amber Quill Press Book
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 1-59279-378-9
Cover Art © 2005 Trace Edward Zaber
Layout and Formatting
Provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
Published in the United States of America
Special thanks to the writers in the Golden Horseshoe and LAMAS critique groups. You don't always tell me what I want to hear, but you always tell me what I need to hear. Without you guys, I would like my writing, but I don't think anyone else would!
My daughter Lily and I stood in the arrivals area at Vancouver International Airport. I was so nervous I wanted to put my arms around her and hug her, but I was afraid I'd crush her if I did. For her, it was the end of a two-week separation from her fiancé. For me, it was the end of years of dreams while asleep and months of dreams while awake.
"There they are!" Lily cried out, as we spied her fiancé and his father walking towards us. J.P. ran to Lily and swept her up in his arms, giving her a kiss that was almost painful to watch in its intimacy. But I didn't linger on them; my gaze moved to the father. He was tall, with muscular arms that filled out an expensive looking polo shirt. Firmly hugging his hips and legs were a pair of dark blue jeans. His hair was the color of beach sand, curly and still thick, unlike a lot of men of forty-five. But it was the eyes, always the eyes for me. His were clear and intelligent. They could see right through you and sear you with passion in an instant. I'd know those eyes anywhere, even though I hadn't seen them in twenty years. Sam's eyes.
He paused when he saw me. No wave, no shout, just a raking gaze and a smile that broke over his face with tantalizing slowness. I remembered to breathe, relieved that he seemed to like what he saw. I didn't have the willowy figure of a young girl anymore and wouldn't be caught dead in a bikini. But I had a body firm from years of activity and had spent hours, at Lily's urging, on a facial, my hair, a manicure, and clothes that showed off breasts that were a bit fuller, a body that was a bit curvier than in the past. Of course, I told everyone I was just getting ready to play "mother of the bride." But this morning, when I'd pulled out the black lace camisole and matching whisper of a panty, I wasn't thinking motherly thoughts at all.
As Sam walked down the ramp, the noise of the crowd around me became a buzzing in my ears. While my heart pounded in terror, every nerve in my body hummed with anticipation. I wondered what he would do, what he would say. I prayed we would fit together as easily as we had when we were twenty-one.
I needn't have worried. This was Sam. When he reached me, he put down his carry-on bag and took my face in his hands for a long, lingering moment.
"Allie. I can't believe it's really you," he whispered, an inch from my mouth. Then his lips skimmed over mine, reacquainting themselves. The crowd slipped away, and so did the years.
He had walked out of Sunset Lake and into my life the summer we were both twenty-one. It was all I could do to keep my hands off of him and the drops of water that glistened on his shoulders, stomach, legs, and all the other parts I could only dream of. When the other female counselors at Camp Sunset and I picked our jaws up off the sand, a buzz went around about who this mysterious counselor could be, this Nordic god with blonde curls, a sculpted jaw, and mysterious eyes that changed from steel-blue to gray depending on his mood. It was lust at first sight, but the more amazing thing was the way it blossomed into more. We both taught rock climbing to the campers. In between belay lessons and rope tying demonstrations, we argued about technique and what peaks we dreamed of summiting. It wasn't long, though, before all we could dream of was summiting each...
"Mom!"
"Dad!"
The years came roaring back with the voices of our indignant children. Sam ended the kiss and winked at me. I wondered if he was having the same thoughts I was.
J.P. looked at us a little incredulously. Even though Sam had been a widower for three years, J.P. had been gone much of that time. I think he was surprised to see his father kiss a woman on the lips.
Lily, a conspiratorial smile on her face, said, "You'd think it had been twenty years since you'd seen each other!"
J.P. still didn't seem to know what to make of the situation, but my sweet, light-hearted daughter had shattered the tension, and we gathered up the luggage for the trek into short-term parking.
Lily and J.P. walked ahead of us, each carrying a bag and holding hands. As we walked out of the airport terminal, Sam's bare arm brushed against mine. He didn't look at me or say anything, so I wasn't sure if he noticed. But knowing Sam the way I did...
In the beginning, there was a lot of accidental-on-purpose touching. We were counselors and our charges were teenagers whose hormones raged as much as ours did. Besides being role models, it was a full-time job making sure they were all in their own beds by eleven and stayed there until the next morning.
It started in the cafeteria. Sam would brush my arm as he passed in line, brush my leg under the table. He'd help me cinch up my climbing harness, spending more time than necessary on the clips around my waist and my thighs. I was used to sex with fumbling boys, where we were quick to get to the end before parents caught us or a roommate came back. But this was like a long fuse, lit by an imperceptible spark and then slowly burning towards a threatened explosion.
But it was more than the subtle touching that made me want him. There were group campfire nights, where we'd sit beside each other, gaze at the stars, and talk. He told me of his home in Independence, Vermont that he loved so much. The family had lived there for over two hundred years, and there was a high school, library, and God knows what else named after a Revolutionary War ancestor of theirs. He wanted nothing more than to raise a family and grow old there, surrounded by generations of Quinns and people who had known him forever. His roots fascinated me; I was born in the U.S., grew up in Ontario, and now I was going to school in Vancouver. I wanted to climb. I wanted to see Kilimanjaro and K2 and Mt. McKinley. I waited for him to tell me it was silly or dangerous, like my parents and a lot of my friends. But he squeezed my hand and then stroked it, and told me I was the most exciting person he'd ever met. He hoped I saw all those places, and would send him postcards so he could live vicariously through me.
"Watch it!" Sam gripped my upper arm and held me back so I couldn't step off the curb. I felt the outline of every finger as streaks of pleasure shot up my arm and around my breast. I wondered if Sam remembered that the insides of my arms are very sensitive.
"You almost stepped in front of a cab." Cautiously, we made our way across the lane. "You seem a million miles away."
More like a million years. Sam let go of my arm when we reached the parking lot. I had forgotten how it was to crave the touch of fingers on skin, until he stopped touching mine.
"Oh my God!" Sam stopped to stare. "That's your car?"
I smiled. I was so used to the company car Lily and I had designed that I forgot about its effect on people.
J.P. and Lily turned.
"Sorry, Dad, should have warned you. Lily sent me a picture of it."
My SUV, custom-painted with the "Miss-Adventures" logo, was never difficult to locate. It was green, with the company name on the side, and a drawing of a mountain with a woman on top, triumphant. When my guiding company started a branch devoted to empowering women to try extreme sports, it seemed like a good idea. Now I found myself wondering if it just looked ridiculous--a woman's equivalent of a midlife crisis car.
The look of shock faded from Sam's face and was replaced by that Cheshire cat smile of his.
"It's amazing," he said. I thought I heard him murmur something else. Just like you, perhaps? I wasn't sure, but I hoped.
We loaded the bags and Sam took the seat beside me. I pulled out of the lot and onto the highway.
I tried to listen to Lily's chatter about the wedding guest list. But the proximity of Sam, so close to my hands and yet once again so untouchable, brought back a flood of memories.
We weren't free to go off and have sex, so Sam started to tease me. The first time I was licking an ice cream cone. Very quietly, so no one else could hear, Sam said in my ear, "Lucky ice cream." I wasn't sure I'd heard him right, until the next day, when I was belaying a camper on a wall. Again, very quietly, he said, "Wow. Your hands are amazing at sliding on that long, hard length. Of rope."
I was lucky I didn't drop the climber.
As he got more explicit, I got more turned on. It was scary, but the more he teased me about sex and the more he talked to me about my life, the more I started to feel like a bold and exciting person.
So one day I sat down next to him on the floating dock, close enough so that our bare legs were touching. I moved my sun-warmed, moist leg just enough to brush the hairs on his, and noticed the front of his suit start to tent up.
"Last night," I started, screwing up my courage, "I had a dream about you. We were the only two people left at camp."
"Tell me about it," Sam whispered, surprise and pleasure in his eyes.
"You sneaked into my cabin, and woke me up by licking the inside of my calves. As my breathing got faster, you moved up the inside of my thigh. You stopped with your head between my legs, and then parted my lower lips with a finger. Liquid gushed from me. You took your tongue and licked me, harder and harder. I grabbed your head and, gripping your hair, rode your tongue until I bucked up and screamed."
"Good thing we were the only ones left at camp," he said, his voice husky. "What happened next?"
"Nothing. I woke up."
"Nothing!" He looked at me, his eyes feral, and I could tell he was fighting everything he had not to roll me on my back, slip down the bikini bottom the scant two inches that lay between him and ecstasy, and thrust into me.
"Cock tease," he said.
"What are you going to do about it?"
That became our refrain for the rest of the summer, as we realized we had to do something about it or we'd die of frustration.
"Mom, are you listening?" Lily asked.
Absolutely not. Not listening, not thinking, not doing anything except shuttling between the hunky Sam of the past and the treasure of Sam beside me.
"I am now," I answered, anchoring my head in the present and the breathtaking speeds of Canadian drivers. "What did you say?"
With Lily chatting about who was flying in from where, and J.P. talking about his visit to Vermont, we drove to the house, a three-bedroom brick home. It wasn't an impressive place, but it had two features that sold it for me in an instant--tons of storage space in an oversized garage and a spectacular view of the mountains.
I barely had time to put the car in park before Lily bolted out, J.P. chasing after her. They each grabbed a bag and went towards the house.
"Your son has stolen my daughter from me," I said, as I opened the back of the truck. I watched them as Sam lifted out the remaining luggage. "There's just something so sweet about young love."
"I don't know...I think there's a lot to be said for old love," he answered.
As I slammed the hatch, he punctuated his comment with a casual stroke of his hand. Across my rear-end.
It felt wonderful and I ached for the touch to linger. But it didn't. Nothing in my life with Sam ever lasted as long as I wanted it to.
"You did that on purpose," I said, opting for indignation as a defense strategy against the way he was turning my insides molten.
"Who, me?" The innocence of his tone was contradicted by the mischief in those now sky blue eyes.
"What are you going to do about it?"
Good question, I wondered. I gave his butt a friendly swipe in response, even though I longed to make it a leisurely exploration.
As with all summers, the season at our camp in the Adirondacks raced by, and then it was gone. I had to go back to Vancouver and my last year of school, and Sam had to go back to his life in Vermont. Still, there was no way we were parting without consummating the passion that roared between us. We rearranged our departures from Friday to Monday, booked two nights at a motel, and bought a large box of condoms.
Somehow we didn't kill ourselves on the drive over. Finally away from camp and unable to wait another second, I undid Sam's jeans and rubbed his penis as he drove.
After we pulled in, he rezipped his jeans and said, "Stay just the way you are. I'll be right back."
He came back to the car with the key, and we ran all the way to the room. After going in, Sam kicked the door shut. He took me first on the floor, riding me hard, neither of us able to do it fast enough. After the initial satiation, we took a short break while Sam brought the suitcases in and I used the bathroom. I was washing my hands when Sam came in and sneaked up behind me. With both of us looking in the mirror, he slipped off my shirt and eased my breasts out of my bra, cupping them and then twisting the nipples until I began rubbing myself on the edge of the sink. Sam slipped his pants down, then mine, and then plunged into my vagina from behind. We watched as our naked bodies moved together until Sam groaned and pumped into me. I grabbed his hand and rubbed my clit with it until I squeezed his cock in spasms of mind-blowing pleasure.
I was glad I'd lost my virginity already so I didn't have the initial soreness of a first time and need to wait a while for the second time. Because with Sam, there was a first time, and a second, and so many others there wasn't much left in the condom box by Monday morning.
I remember almost nothing about the room except for some well-positioned mirrors, and that we never left it. But I'll never forget the length and thickness of Sam's penis, the way it looked erect, the way his balls felt when I cupped them, the way they smelled after sex, the...
"Mom?" Lily asked, giving me a strange look. We were standing outside her bedroom and she'd just asked me something. "Mom," she whispered in my ear, "you can stop daydreaming about Sam. He's here."
"Smart aleck," I said back.
We settled J.P. in Lily's room, a tribute to my great broadmindedness and feminism, I thought. I settled Sam into the guest bedroom. After lunch, the kids went out to talk to their minister and finalize plans.
It was awkward after Lily and J.P. left. Part of me wanted to grab Sam's hand, dash upstairs, and take up where we left off. But as we finished the dishes, I realized I finally had Sam to myself, as I'd dreamed of for so many years. I was terrified of the reality, terrified of spoiling things, and just wanted to take it slow.
"I like your house," Sam said, folding the dishtowel and laying it on the granite counter. The countertop was my one extravagance in a house that I maintained as cheaply as I could.
"I'm afraid it's perpetually a fixer-upper," I said, trying not to be embarrassed. Sam had taken over his grandfather's interior woodworking business back in Vermont, one of many of the Quinn family operations. From pictures over the years, I knew he had a house that was a craftsman's dream.
"You spend your resources on other things," he said. "What good's a big, beautiful house if you're longing to climb or snowboard, but don't have the time or money?"
"You always understood me," I said, and meant it.
"I don't know. I don't think Ellis was too happy when I encouraged you to spend your inheritance on a trip to Mt. McKinley rather than on a down payment for a house."
I laughed. "Poor guy. He definitely didn't know what he was getting into when he married me. But we have Lily, so neither of us has any regrets. And I have the life I always wanted, with both High Adventures and Miss-Adventures. I have you to thank for a lot of that."
At that moment, I did grab his hand, and dragged him outside for a walk. It had been a long time since I'd held hands with anyone. Sam's hands weren't still; his thumb stroked mine, and he occasionally unclasped and caressed my fingers with the backs of his. It was probably a good thing there was no bed nearby, as sensations of pleasure chased around my body.
Oh Sam. How did we let so much time and distance get between us?
"How are things in Independence?" I bit back what I'd thought about for months, after we'd started planning the wedding--Any chance of moving to B.C.?
"Business is crazy. All those home improvement shows have sparked a fever for renovation. It wasn't easy taking a whole week off."
Not yet. We walked a bit more in silence.
"I know I said it over the phone, but I was so sorry when Laurie died, and felt terrible that I couldn't come to the funeral."
"I know," Sam said. "But with your knee the way it was... And don't take this the wrong way, but I was very emotional at the time, and I don't think I was up to seeing you. You and I ...we can pick up a conversation we've left off mid-sentence two years before."
He stopped by the curb, in front of Mrs. Yee's clapboard Cape Cod. As the lemony scent of her blooming magnolia enveloped us, he took both of my hands in his.
"Oh Allie, you've been such a great friend. You were always there to talk to, and always seemed to know what I needed. Sometimes that was a laugh and sometimes it was a kick in the butt. The fact that Laurie and Ellis let us stay friends was unbelievably generous. I respected Laurie for that. I needed to not think about you just then. I needed to grieve for my wife."
"I know." And I did. I couldn't do something sleazy or hurtful when Sam was aching over Laurie's year-long cancer battle. I knew he'd come back to me when he was ready. In the last three years, Sam had called often. The phone would ring at eleven, or midnight, or one. And then we'd talk, long into the night.
I looked into those eyes, those eyes I would see in my dreams after those phone calls. I reached up my hands, stroked the edges of his face, and pulled his mouth to mine.
Conversations weren't the only things we could pick up mid-stream. Sam's lips caressed mine, moving back and forth, tentative. Then his tongue carefully outlined my lips, almost as if it were asking, "Is this okay? Do you want this again?"
I answered with my own tongue, exploring his for a moment. My breathing began to increase, and my body responded by molding to his. Then I broke the kiss...before I couldn't.
Sam leaned his forehead against mine and we stood there, breathing heavily.
"Any minute now, Mrs. Yee is going to get on the phone and call half the neighborhood to report me making out with a mysterious, handsome stranger in front of her house."
Sam slipped his hand into mine and started the walk again. "If you're going to get a reputation, I hope you have fun earning it."
That was something to think about.
Sam and I had dinner at the Indian restaurant where the rehearsal dinner would be. The owner stuck us in the banquet room, alone, so we could check on the arrangements. The privacy filled me with anticipation.
"So," Sam said, after the waiter had taken our order of samosas, chicken biryani, and curry, "have you gotten over the irony yet, of our children getting married? If someone had told me back when we were twenty-one..."
"Or when we were twenty-five," I added. "Don't forget, they did both meet when they were babies."
"I could never forget the last time I saw you," Sam said, the smoky steel of his eyes matching the seriousness of his voice.
Nor could I. Camp Sunset had an all-years reunion, and I'd gone with Ellis and baby Lily. Sam was there, with Laurie and J.P. We reminisced and laughed and caught up with everyone we knew, except each other. But I always knew where he was, every moment of the weekend. Finally, at the ending party he came up to me. We put our arms around each other and not so much hugged as clung, almost unable to bear where we'd been and where we were going. In parting, we made what seemed like a half-hearted, settling-for-what-we-could-get promise to stay friends. But by some miracle, in spite of, or probably because of, never seeing each other, we stayed friends.
"Lily and J.P. together..." I said, as the waiter brought our drinks. "It still hits me, at the weirdest times. If J.P. hadn't enrolled in the India study program after Laurie died, if you hadn't emailed me in time for Lily to join... So much happened, just at the right time."
I took a sip of the Chablis I had ordered. I remembered telling Lily about the program and how she begged me to let her go. Ellis agreed to pay for it, and I relented after she wore me down. After she left I emailed J.P., asking him to look out for her. Lily emailed often to keep me updated. At first, she was filled with exotic tales of India. But not long after, her notes were filled with stories about J.P.
"I don't know whether to be happy or jealous that they're staying together, where we never could," I said, putting into words something I'd never felt safe enough to say.
"My nephews are going to take over the woodworking business from me someday, and my brother runs the farm. I never wanted J.P. to feel tied to Vermont the way I was."
The way you still are, I thought.
Sam took a sip from his pint glass.
"Still drinking stout I see." I made a face.
"My adventurous Allie, ever tried it? Have some."
I thought he would pass me the glass, but he dipped his index finger in the froth and pulled it out. I paused and then put the finger in my mouth. The taste was bitter, yeasty, and as strong as the desire in his eyes. Feeling the power I had over him, I sucked with my lips and ran my tongue all around the finger.
Too many memories.
In spite of my teasing at camp, I'd actually never tried oral sex. Sam encouraged me to try everything that weekend in the motel room and to explore and linger over sex rather than rushing through it. It was fascinating to see a penis up close like that, and I was amazed by how stroking the throbbing vein on the underside made the member jump and stiffen. I loved licking the head around and around, watching it swell and turn a dark purple color. When a droplet of liquid oozed out of the tip, I squeezed the end and saw the opening where the ejaculate had already poured out so many times.
"So good, never like this before..." Sam had groaned when I'd slid as much of his long silken length as I could into my mouth and was slowly moving my lips up the shaft, making it as tight as I could. Then I combined my lips with my hands, loving the feel of him, unable to stop as I thrust faster and harder on his cock and he bucked with pleasure and need. He made it in my mouth, one of the few times he came that weekend without a condom on. I felt so alive, overwhelmed with a feeling of power, to make this man I loved lose control, lose his mind like that.
Back at the restaurant, I slid my lips to the tip of his finger, remembering. I heard Sam suck in his breath, the sound of him being tortured to the breaking point one that I would never forget.
Without tearing his gaze from me, he dipped my finger into my wine and brought it up to his lips. The feeling of him grazing his teeth over my finger was startling in its strength. I felt my nipples harden against the camisole and crossed my legs...tightly.
We got our dinner to go, to the surprise of our waiter. Back in the car, I resisted the temptation to slip my hand inside Sam's jeans and stroke his penis, but I thought about it.
When we turned onto the court for my house, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry or scream. Every light in the house was on and there were cars parked everywhere. People spilled out of the house and onto the front porch.
I parked the car about five houses away, and then gripped the steering wheel and pretended I was banging my head against it.
"Really, Allie, we have to do something about this sexual frustration of yours."
"Doesn't look like that's going to happen in the near future," I said, pointing to party central.
Sam lifted my chin with one finger, and took possession of my lips as if they were the most precious thing in the world. We kissed and we nipped and we sucked. When he finally touched my breasts, it felt like I'd been waiting for a lifetime. He explored in slow, lazy circles, taking his time, driving me nuts. Then he zeroed in on the hard little buds of my nipples, twisting and teasing. I took one of his hands and moved it to the desperate need between my legs. He stroked, first with tantalizing lightness. I leaned into his hand, pressing myself against him, whimpering for release. My hands ached to be filled, and I knew what they wanted. I moved to the vee in his jeans and felt the rock-hard erection straining to get out. I cupped him, feeling all his length in my hands, wanting so much to hold the firm balls and long hardness. My hands went to the belt buckle that had taunted me all day.
A car went by, making us aware we were nowhere private. We both jumped, hands back in our laps. And then we laughed.
"I think I should have gotten a hotel room," Sam growled.
"Let's go have our dinner," I said. Sam got the bags out of the car and swung the fingers of his free hand so they slid against mine as we walked.
"I'm having a flashback," he said. "You sent me a sleazy note, suggesting I meet you behind the beach house at eleven. I get there, hoping to make out, and instead we break up a couple of horny kids and end up going to bed horny ourselves."
"Sue Waite and Georgie Sampson. I have a feeling we're not going to get to make out any more tonight either," I said, waving to Lily's maid of honor, Nan.
We went into the kitchen and found Lily there. She gave me a kiss and then said, "Dad's here."
I handed Sam the food. "Take this into the dining room, would you? Ellis is here."
"You want some support?" he asked.
"No, the divorce is ten years old, for heaven's sakes. Ellis was generous enough to help me buy out High Adventures, and he paid for Lily to study in India. He's not a bad guy," I said. Sam raised his eyebrows. "His affair wasn't only his fault."
"A promise is a promise," Sam said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was one of the things I loved about him. He would have sooner stopped breathing than have cheated on Laurie, just as he could never break his promise to his parents to stay in Vermont and help with the family businesses.
Oh Sam. How will I ever be able to let you go this time?
"Allie!" I heard behind me, and turned to see my ex-husband. He gave me a kiss, and then brought forward the obviously pregnant Amanda.
"Ellis, did you knock her up again?" I asked, smiling as I gave her a kiss.
Ellis blushed slightly and said, "Amanda's better at staying home with the kids than I was."
"Oh, Ellis, you made such a cute househusband. I think I still have your frilly pink apron around here somewhere," I said.
We all laughed. It was a typical family story, as funny and exaggerated now as it had been sad when it happened. I'd married Ellis when I'd gotten pregnant by him with Lily, and he'd agreed to stay home with her while I continued to trek around the world. It had worked out for a few years, but not forever.
I moved everyone into the dining room, and then went back into the kitchen to get plates to share the Indian food on. Sam followed me. "You're way more generous with them than I could be," he said, getting out some silverware.
"I'm happy with my life, so it's not that hard," I said, as we made our way back to the dining room. I closed the French doors behind us.
We sat at the old harvest table I'd picked up at a flea market. Ellis went on about his real estate practice, which he'd started part-time when we were married and he was home watching Lily. Now it was full-time and very successful. I just sat back and listened, lulled into a contented haze by the additional bottle of wine, the exotic flavors of the Indian dishes, and the luxurious sensation of Sam stroking the inside of my calf with his foot.
You haven't changed a bit, Sam. Thank God.
Soon, though, my laid-back fog gave way to tension as his big toe worked its way up the inside of my skirt, to my wet and engorged folds and eagerly sensitive nub in the middle. I squirmed, desperate to have him stimulate me further, glad for Ellis's enthusiasm for large waterfront homes in West Vancouver.
Just a little more. Press a little harder, Sam. I willed him to know what I needed. God that feels good. I want to have an orgasm with you. I want to feel that long, hard shaft thrusting inside me. I want to ride you, with your hands playing with my nipples. We could get rid of these guys and sneak upstairs. My room has a lock...
We were interrupted by a loud knock on the French doors and then Marc, J.P.'s best man, walked in. I was glad for the dimmed lights so he couldn't see my flushed face. Sam disengaged his foot from my sex and ran it down my leg in one long stroke.
What are we doing, having sex like this in this house full of people? I didn't want to embarrass J.P. and Lily. Decorum, I thought. We are the big people.
But some things never change. I still wanted Sam, in me and in my bed, every moment I was with him. But too much of life was interfering. It was déjà vu all over again.
"Mr. Quinn, can we talk about the bachelor party tomorrow night?" Marc asked.
"Be right there," Sam answered, getting up out of his chair. It seemed like a good excuse for all of us to get up, so I made some noise about cleaning up, and Sam and I gathered up the plates and containers. On our way to the kitchen, he whispered in my ear, "Are we going to have any free nights this week?"
"Let's see--last minute wedding shower, parties, tux fittings, flower check, rehearsal and dinner. I'd settle for a free hour," I answered, trying not to sound as mournful as I felt.
"Oh, I wouldn't need a whole hour," Sam said, in that low, sexy voice of his that I thought could make me come in just a few minutes.
"Well, if each time took fifteen minutes," I whispered back, dropping paper plates into the garbage, "I think you'd need at least two hours."
He gave me a look that clearly said, "Woman, have mercy."
"We aren't finished, by a long-shot," he continued, as we loaded silverware into the dishwasher.
No, I thought, watching those tight buns I longed to fill my hands with walk away from me. I don't want to ever be finished with you, Sam.
I did have some dreams of "finishing" in the morning, hoping that everyone would be exhausted and sleep like the dead until noon. But when I got up at seven with thoughts of sneaking into Sam's room, I nearly tripped over Marc, sleeping with a blanket in the hall of all places. That was because Katie, a friend from the Indian program, was asleep on the couch. Resigning myself to the inevitable, I stumbled down to the kitchen, where a surprisingly perky Lily was making coffee and discussing the upcoming shower that day with Nan. I gave her a kiss, grabbed a cup of coffee, and sat down.
Oh, to be twenty-two again, full of energy, having just had a good roll in the hay. Or the hammock. Or the bathtub. Or even...
"Mom, wake up! We've asked you twice...are you all set on paper products for the shower?"
"All set," I said, trying to focus. Nan left the room to get dressed and Lily joined me at the table.
"So," Lily said, drawing out the word, "Sam is even more handsome than his pictures. For an old guy."
"Old guy? We're the same age, you know."
"I know," Lily said, tossing her luxurious mane of dark hair. "How are things going?"
"Well, obviously you think I'm too old for things to be going anywhere," I said. I'll miss this, I realized, this mother-daughter banter, when she's gone.
"What do you think, would he leave Independence and move out here? I think you should just come right out and ask him. Don't play hard to get and don't leave him wondering if you want him to."
"Lily!" Christ. "How do you know I want him to?"
"C'mon, Mom. I'm leaving and you're going to be all alone in this big house. I know."
"Smart aleck," I said. I hate it when she's right.
I was standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom late that afternoon, pinning my long chestnut hair up before the shower. Sam walked in, looking dark and dangerous, leather bomber jacket, boots, form-fitting indigo jeans. He closed the door and slipped up behind me, taking the clasp of my necklace out of my hands and fixing it for me.
I watched him as he slipped his hands around the front of my blouse, cupping my breasts and rubbing the centers of his palms over my nipples. Even after so many years, he could still rev my engine from zero to a hundred in under ten seconds. I didn't have to think at all about whether we still fit together. Which was good, because, just like before, I could hardly think from the moment he laid his hands on me.
He nibbled and blew into my ear. "I'm going to embarrass myself and come in my jeans if I don't have you soon. Feel how hard I am for you," he said, rubbing his penis against my backside. My skirt was fairly flimsy, and I could feel his hard length in the crack of my bottom. It brought back the most intense memories of all, very sweet, very bitter...
Sam had come to Vancouver for a week to help me move. We'd spent the year endlessly on the phone and writing letters, and I was going to move to Independence. I had my geology degree and a lot of guiding experience from my part-time job with High Adventures. Hopefully something in my field would turn up. For the time being, I would help Sam in the woodworking shop, and we would start planning our wedding. My parents were thrilled; I think they secretly hoped I'd settle down.
We had dinner one night at a Chinese restaurant. I attacked his crotch with my feet under the table until Sam knocked over a water glass in his lap at the moment of orgasm. I was never sure if that was on purpose or not, but the Indian restaurant wasn't the only place we left in a hurry with take-out.
We hopped in the big tub back at my apartment to clean up, and made a game of bringing each other as close as we could. I worked my way down his body with the washcloth and soap, enjoying slicking his shoulders, his flat male nipples, his hard stomach. Then I went lower, soaping and teasing the hair above his cock, never touching, just enjoying watching it swell and bob. When Sam's voice became pleading, I skimmed his penis with one soap-slicked finger, making him want without being able to have.
Groaning, Sam spun me around, placing his firm length between us, pressing hard against my buttocks. He rubbed himself against me as he took possession of my breasts, cupping their firmness. He twisted and twirled the now ultra-sensitive nubs, and I whimpered in pain and pleasure. Aching for some release between my legs I squirmed and pressed my thighs together, but Sam refused to touch or to let me touch.
I felt his length get more insistent against my wiggling backside. Then, the tip found an opening between my buns, and slid in a tiny bit. I stilled, wondering, feeling wanton, aroused and yet afraid of trying this new, different thing. If possible, I was even more turned on as Sam very carefully began sliding in. It stretched and hurt a bit, but the pain was arousing, and my breath began coming out in puffs as I felt the pressure building. With one gentle thrust, Sam buried himself in me. Then he moved his hand between my legs, and played with my bud, engorged and desperate for release. Already close to the edge, I screamed as I flung myself off of it, carrying Sam with me.
That night, as we were packing, Sam found the letter from the owner of High Adventures, offering me a full-time job. Joe wanted me to start out teaching classes around B.C., and then go to the Alps the following spring. If all went well, they were hoping to mount their first expedition to the Himalayas in another year. They were also putting together a series of guides on climbing spots around the world and wanted me to work on them.
I had no intention of taking the job. I was going to marry Sam. Another job like this might never come along, but I could always work at an indoor climbing gym and climb outside in the Adirondacks. Sam had other ideas. We had the worst fight of our relationship, the only one actually. He left Vancouver two days later, without me. And I was left wondering what would have happened if I'd thrown the letter out.
Back in my bedroom, Sam murmured into my hair, "This brings back memories." I watched as his hand moved from my breast to the vee between my legs. I sighed, with resignation as much as with pleasure. I removed his hands, spun around, and fell into his arms.
"Every moment with you does," I said. "I want you to stop screwing with me and start screwing me."
Sam's lips formed that wonderful, slow smile again. "Soon, my love. And the anticipation will make it that much sweeter."
He gave me a long, lingering kiss and left. As he walked out the door, I felt the minutes, hours, days that I'd looked forward to for weeks rushing by. I wanted to grab them as they passed and make them stop their relentless forward progress. It would be sweet when we finally got together. I wanted the sex. But I also wanted so much more.
The next day we hardly saw each other. Sam and the guys had to go to the tux shop, and Lily and I had to go, well, everywhere. We negotiated with the florist, argued with the photographer, finalized with the caterer, made lists with the DJ, and drove in circles around the Greater Vancouver area. I was collapsed on the couch in a stupor when Sam walked in.
"You guys have it easy," I said. "I've seen every corner of this city. Three times!"
"Easy! You try spending an afternoon with four smelly hung-over guys. It exceeded even my quotient for gross."
"Serves you right, letting them get so drunk last night!"
"I'm the father-of-the-groom, oh mother-of-the-bride. It's what we do."
"Oh fine," I said, smiling in spite of my exhaustion. "I suppose I have to think about dinner." I wondered where I was going to find the energy to move, much less cook.
"I'll do dinner," Sam said. I cocked an eyebrow. His culinary mishaps were legendary.
"Pizza," he answered my unspoken question. "My best dish."
I closed my eyes and fell asleep to the sound of his voice as he ordered, grateful for his thoughtfulness.
If our walk two days before had been the eye of the hurricane, the storm hit with all its fury the next two days. Sam quietly stepped in and helped whenever needed, finding a new photographer when the first one cancelled, and not only figuring out all the cleaning appliances but using them, before I even realized a new mountain of dirty clothes or dishes had appeared. The boy I had loved had turned into an independent and thoughtful man. This was the real Sam. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to find that I loved this reality even more than I had thought I loved the man of my dreams.
The night before the wedding I was on the phone in my bedroom with our office manager, going over the lists for the classes that would start on Monday. Sam came in and sat on the bed, smiling at me while I talked.
"What?" I said when I got off, wondering what was so funny.
"Oh, it's just you, in 'serious businesswoman' mode. I've never seen this side of you. You know power is quite sexy."
"I would sell my soul for you to show me how sexy, but I think the other thirty people in the house wouldn't appreciate it," I said.
"Ah, the sacrifices we make for love," he said.
I rolled my eyes and started to get off the bed. He stopped me and took my hands, his face serious.
"Did you ever wonder how it would have been if we'd gotten married?"
"For a long time after you left Vancouver. Then I had to let go of the fantasy--it drove me crazy. But when Lily told me she was marrying J.P. and you were coming out, I did start thinking of it again."
"And?"
"You were right of course," I said, sighing. "If I'd turned down the job with High Adventures and gone to Vermont with you, I would have ended up hating myself, and eventually you."
"You made it to Everest Base Camp. You consulted on that Joshua Tree documentary. You helped create a terrific series of guidebooks. If you'd married me, you might never have done those things."
"I know," I said. "And I've never said this to you all these years, never said it aloud, but Laurie was the better person for you then. She grew up in Independence and was content to stay there and be your wife. I would have constantly bugged you to go somewhere."
"You're right," he said, after a moment. "I wanted a wife who would stay in Independence. But," he added, his eyes twinkling, "you're still the most exciting woman I've ever known."
"Hold that thought." I took his hands and pulled him off the bed. I stroked my hand across the front of his jeans and was rewarded with the feeling of his cock stiffening. "I'm counting on you showing me exactly how exciting you find me tomorrow night."
And then maybe, I thought, as we walked out the door, you'll find that although you didn't want to leave Independence then, you can leave it now.
The next day went as smoothly as most wedding days, with some tears, some laughter, and some glitches. Marc got up to give his toast, and we all discovered the champagne hadn't been poured yet. Sam stood right up and said it was a family tradition for the father to give a toast while the wine was being poured. He warned the couple about asking someone to "keep an eye out for a daughter in a strange foreign place" because you might get more than you bargained for. After everyone laughed, he talked about how lucky we all were that a dear old friendship had led to a very special love. His words echoed in my head as Marc gave his toast and we all lifted our filled glasses to salute the new couple.
Hours later, we walked in the front door and closed the world behind us. I leaned up against it, and Sam put his arms around me.
"Sad?" he asked, as a tear leaked from one of my eyes.
"A little," I said. "But happy, too."
Sam wiped the tear from my cheek with a finger, and then followed with a kiss. He made tracks on my face with his lips and then brushed them up against mine. The kiss started gently, just the barest of touches and an exchange of sighs. But it quickly became more.
I could have taken him, then and there, in my chiffon dress and his tux. But he pulled away from me.
"Do you hear that?" he said.
I listened. "What?"
"Nothing!" He took one shoe and flung it into a corner. Then he flung the other one in another corner. "There is no one here! Finally!"
I laughed. We'd waited a week for this. Twenty-some years, actually. We were going to enjoy it.
I followed his lead, tossing my shoes. Then I pulled the drapes closed.
"I don't want to see another person for the next thirty-six hours," I said. "But I want to see a lot more of you. You are way overdressed."
So Sam flung his bowtie. I took off my earrings, which got a hoot of, "Unfair!" He countered with his cummerbund. I bent over, giving him an eyeful of breasts pushed up and spilling over a black velvet bra. I inched up my skirt until it was hiked above my thighs. Then I unclipped one of my stockings and flung it at Sam. He wolf-whistled at me, and wore it like an aviator scarf as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder.
It was my turn to whistle. I wanted to run my hands up and down those hard arms, feel every vein and muscle and hair, stroke each interesting curve and scar. But as I took a step towards him, he put his hand up.
"No touching," he ordered. "Keep going."
Since the dress was already half off anyway, I continued sliding it up my body. First, I revealed the black lace panties with the see-through mesh front. I heard Sam whisper, "Very nice."
Then I slid it up my bare waist and over my breasts, the fabric caressing my nipples as it moved over them. Hands over my head, fabric bunched in them, I swayed, filled with power, filled with need. I pulled the dress over my head and found Sam at my feet. His hands were stroking my ankles and moving up my calves.
"I've been dreaming of you without those clothes all week," he said. "But the reality is so much more than the dream."
I stepped back. "I've been dreaming, too, bud. Off with the pants."
"Yes, ma'am."
He undid the clasp and zipper, and the pants slid down his legs to the carpet. He stepped out of them and placed them on the sofa. I walked over to him and knelt in front of him.
"Please," I begged, my voice a whisper as I grabbed the waistband of his black silk boxers.
"Only if you let me return the favor," he said.
I stretched the elastic over the erection that was straining for freedom. I slid the boxers down with both hands, caressing his thighs and calves in the process as I licked the swollen purple head of his penis.
"Oh, Allie," Sam groaned, as I plunged his cock into my mouth and held it with my lips, while I cupped the firm sack underneath. With my other hand I explored his thighs, lightly dusted with hair, and his firm stomach, remembering some things and delighting in what was new.
Just when I could feel him tensing and close to the edge, he growled, "Enough," and pulled me away. Then he pushed me down from my knees onto my back and said, eyes glowing like a wild beast's, "My turn."
His hands were everywhere, except where I throbbed, where I needed him to be. He ran two fingers up the inside of my thighs, and when I started to buck towards his hands, he lowered them to the clip on the other black stocking. After undoing it, he took the end in his mouth and lowered it over my thigh, down my calf, over my foot, and then off.
"I want you naked," he said, as he ran his fingers around my waist, gripped my garter belt, and pulled it down over my hips and legs.
He didn't immediately come back up to me, but rather started at my calves, making circular stroking motions with his hands. He followed the trail with his tongue, licking and teasing in short, wet strokes. I felt the pressure and ache build between my legs, and I thought I would die from needing him when his fingers finally found my clit, which was full and soft and moist. Using his thumb, he stroked it up and down while slipping two fingers inside. He stretched and rubbed as I writhed on his fingers. As I felt myself gush with moisture I begged him, "Please, Sam, make me come."
He took his fingers out. "Not like this. Not this time. Maybe next time."
My heart soared at the thought of next time as he dragged his body up mine. He rubbed the velvet encasing my breasts, the soft friction driving me mad. Then he undid the front clasp and cupped my breasts as they fell out into his hands.
"They're fuller than before," he said.
"You can thank Lily for...ahhh," I finished, as he took a nipple into his mouth.
"I will," Sam said, mouth full of me.
"What?" I couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel.
"I want you," he answered into my lips. I felt his erection, deliciously insistent, rubbing against my clit. God it felt good. I ground myself against the round head, dying for release. Then I took my fingers, wrapped them around his shaft, and guided him inside me.
"Oh, Allie," Sam groaned, and began meeting my pelvic thrusts with deep plunges of his own. As he moaned my name once more, I felt him stiffen and spill his seed up towards my womb. Unbearably excited by the dark passion in his eyes, I moaned his name back, and gripping his throbbing cock with my innermost walls, I followed him into the oblivion of ecstasy.
I woke to a darkened living room, the feeling of soft carpeting on my back, and naked male legs tangled with mine. Sam was leaning on one arm, brushing my hair away from my face.
"You're just as beautiful as you were the day I first saw you, standing on the beach at Sunset Lake, wearing that sensible but sexy black suit. Did that ever show off your breasts. I had to go back into the cold water so I didn't embarrass myself."
"What? You didn't even know I existed until we started teaching together."
"I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you."
And then he gathered me up in his arms and carried me up the stairs to my bed. As he did, I marveled that there were still things I could learn about Sam, still ways he could surprise me, after so many years.
We lay there for a long time, exploring every inch of each other with long lingering strokes. In the flickering candlelight, we delighted in discovering new things about each other and in finding the old familiar parts and responses. Eventually, the comfortable, gentle touching gave way to passion again. This time, I took control, pushing Sam on his back, and riding him hard until the spasms of my orgasm spread from my clit to my vagina to my breasts to every inch of my body. Sam lay there and held me while I caught my breath, his still-hard penis slowly plunging in and out of me.
After a moment I slipped him out of me and tugged his hands, saying, "Your turn."
Then I went up on all fours, and he went behind me. He gasped as I took his slick cock in my hand and slid it into my still-wet core. As he thrust in and out, he slipped his hand around the front and began rubbing my clit with the palm of his hand. I felt myself getting aroused again, and eagerly rubbed him hard and then squeezed his penis with my own orgasm as I felt Sam stiffen and climax.
We slept finally, although I hated to give up even a moment of my remaining hours with Sam to unconsciousness. I woke to an empty bed. Panic gripped my heart until I smelled the coffee and bacon wafting up from the kitchen. I threw on some panties and my robe, and padded downstairs.
I stood at the edge of the kitchen, watching him as he hummed and cooked, looking adorable and so sexy in a T-shirt, boxers, and seriously tousled hair.
"What?" He smiled back at me.
"You. Cooking. I remember that breakfast you made at the staff party at camp."
Sam winced. "Please! I have learned a few things in the last twenty years. And speaking of that, you certainly seem to have learned a few things in the last twenty years."
I wiggled my eyebrows. "Does it bother you? That I've been with other men since you?"
"I could ask the same thing of you," he answered back.
"I guess I'm just grateful for what we did have, not sad for what we didn't."
"Actually, I'm pretty grateful for that last position we tried last night. What do you say we eat up this breakfast and you show me what else you've learned in the last twenty years?"
So, in between tidying up the mess from the past week, cracking open a jar of dark chocolate body paint, and reliving some fond memories in the bathtub, we spent Sunday catching up.
That night as Sam packed, I roamed around the house, putting away laundry, throwing out stray paper cups, searching for items left over from last night's striptease. Finally I walked into his room and sat on the bed.
Sam zipped up his bag.
"That's the same look you had on your face when Lily walked down the aisle. Like you were losing your best friend."
"This week has brought back everything I felt twenty years ago."
"For me, too," Sam said, sitting beside me.
Even after all the sex of the last twenty-four hours, I just wanted to push his shoulders down onto the bed, strip off his jeans, and screw his brains out. But my heart, my heart was pounding in my ears.
I grabbed a pillow from the corner, hugged it to my chest, and hoped it would cushion the plunge I was about to take off a cliff.
"Then chuck it all and move in with me."
"Well," he said, looking at me, "not today."
Very funny. I waited, meaning to make him uncomfortable with the silence.
He ran a hand through his hair.
"You're serious," he said.
"Yes, I am. I wasn't sure if we would still mesh together, still care about each other when this was real and not just two old friends talking on the phone. But we're like dynamite together sexually. And that's because it's not just sex between us--it's respect and caring for the people we've become. It's love."
"I do love you, Allie," he said, touching the side of my face. I leaned into his hand. "That's not the issue. It never has been."
"Okay," I said, knowing perfectly well what the issue was, but not sure how to deal with it. "Where do you see us going with this love? Do you really want to just leave and go back to talking on the phone and sending emails?"
"No. I don't know." Sam looked bewildered, lost. "I can't make a decision like this right now. I'm not like you. I've never seriously considered living anywhere else. I need some time to think this through."
"Time? It's been twenty years. How much time do you need?"
He let out a breath he was holding. "That's a ridiculous statement and you know it."
"All I know is that if you wanted to make it work, you would."
"I do want to make it work, Allie. I want more than just a friendship with you. I just can't move out here right now. My life is not the only issue. My parents are in their eighties--I spend a lot of time caring for and helping them."
There wasn't much I could say to that, I thought as I twisted the pillow.
"Why don't you come to Vermont with me?"
I punched the pillow. "You know I can't. Right now I'm taking all of Lily's workload with Miss-Adventures until she gets back, and then I've got to train J.P. I've spent the last twenty years building this business and my clientele. It's here, Sam. I can't move the mountains."
"I know," he said, gathering me up into his arms. "I just don't know if I can leave Independence right now."
I held him, his last words repeating themselves in my head. I had understood when he couldn't leave back when he was younger. I had agreed with the choices we'd both made. But did they have to dictate our whole lives? If he couldn't leave now, I wasn't sure he ever would.
"You need to get to bed," I finally said. I started to stand. He deftly swept his arms under my legs, placed me flat on the guest bed, and covered my body with his.
"So do you," he whispered into my ear. He blew in my ear and then licked it. The feel of his tongue aroused a desperate need in me. If I couldn't have him for the rest of my life, or even past this night, I wanted him now. One last time, to carry with me always.
"Screw me," I whispered back, feeling his penis harden and grind into me. I slipped my hands between our bodies and undid his jeans, letting his erection strain against his briefs.
"I love your breasts," he said, lifting up my T-shirt and putting his hands on them. I lifted my hips, slipped off the shorts I was wearing, and parted my legs so that I could grind my clit onto his shaft.
"Twist my nipples, it feels so good," I said to his mouth and then thrust my tongue into it.
"I love when you touch my balls," he said, and I reached into his briefs and cupped them with a hand.
"Take me," I groaned. He slipped his briefs down and I felt the tip of his penis pushing against my panties. With one finger I moved aside a scrap of fabric, leaving him access to my gushing center. He plunged in, then as he thrust, he pulled the edge of the panty so that it stimulated my clit. I rubbed back and forth against the fabric and his body as he thrust inside me. The ecstasy, as we came, was glorious.
It seemed like I'd slept only a moment when the alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. "Don't get up," he said.
I threw my arms around him, found his mouth and kissed him as hard as I could, willing him to make love to me again, willing him to change his mind and stay.
He groaned, broke off the kiss, and took my hands into his.
"This isn't goodbye. You look at your calendar and pick a time when you're free. Come to Vermont and I'll show you my world."
I didn't say anything. It was goodbye. The whole of North America would always be between us. It had been ridiculous to let him fall back into my bed and back into my heart.
"I'll get dressed and drive you."
"I called a cab," he said, rolling out of bed, rolling out of my life. "If we did this at the airport, I'm not sure I could get on my plane."
I got up anyway, knowing I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep.
We sat on the porch in the cool May morning, holding hands, not speaking. I wasn't sure I could talk with the way my throat was closing up. The man I'd loved almost my whole life was leaving me and taking my dreams with him. The cab pulled in, and I held his head in my hands and kissed him for one last, precious moment. I tried to memorize the feel of the curls in his hair, the angles of his face, the smell of his skin, the taste of his breath.
"I'll call you," he said, and waved as he got in the cab.
"I love you," I said to the cab as it drove away. I stood there, unable to move, as the tears made tracks down my cheeks. After a long while I went into the house, collapsed on the couch, and heaved with sobs.
Eventually, I hauled myself up off the couch, into the shower, and into my climbing clothes. I made a quick breakfast and as I was cleaning up the remnants of the mess in the kitchen, I found Sam's beer glass. I traced the rim with my fingers, imagining his lips there. I ran my finger from the rim to my lips, swollen from their rough but wonderful activity that weekend. Then, without thinking anymore, I loaded everything into the dishwasher and tossed everything else out. Enough, I thought. He's gone.
I took the Miss-Adventures beginning climbing classes to Smoke Bluffs in Squamish all week, a different group every day. I couldn't believe it when our summer student showed me the lists; not only was every class full, but there were waiting lists. I had achieved what I'd always dreamed of, what Sam had pushed me to achieve. So why did I feel so empty?
I knew why. Because I wanted it all with Sam. I didn't want to be just friends anymore. I wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him, taste him. I wanted to feel him under me and in me and behind me. I wanted to love him, and not just physically. But I didn't want to love him if I couldn't be with him for days, or weeks, or months at a time. If we had a relationship, that was as good as it was ever going to get.
It was time to move on, in so many ways. I'd hardly dated since the divorce and not at all since Laurie died. Sam and I getting together had always been a dream, sometimes remote, sometimes close, and it was time to wake up.
I stopped answering the phone and deleted all his messages. It was a childish way to let him know I didn't want to talk to him, but I decided I was entitled to protect my sanity just a little bit. I figured eventually he'd take the hint.
And then, in the midst of my mature reevaluation of my life, I did something really stupid. I went free solo climbing. Going up a mountain without a safety harness is very dangerous, but I'd tried it, occasionally, on rock faces I'd done many times before. I guess I was craving the adrenaline, the need to zero in my concentration on nothing but the rock and the wall. I wanted to prove I was taking control of my life, taking a step forward, taking risks and living to tell about it. It almost killed me.
Fortunately, I had the sense to wear a helmet, but there wasn't any way to protect my legs in the fall. I nodded vigorously when the doctor in emergency asked me if I wanted something for the pain. When I woke up in my hospital bed, Lily was hovering over me, her face somewhere between terrified and livid.
"You are the most infuriating and stupid person I have ever known," she said.
I winced at her volume. My head was starting to hurt, along with my broken leg. "Too bad if I'm hurting your head. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard. If I could, I would divorce you and find myself a sensible mother."
Well, I thought, feeling a little sorry for myself, don't you sound just like your grandparents.
"There's someone who wants to see you. God knows why." Lily walked, or should I say stomped, out of the room. Sam walked in.
Okay, he's the sexiest, handsomest, most wonderful man I know. But really, he looked like hell. I told him so.
"You don't look so good yourself, babe." He sat down in the chair next to the bed.
Eventually the silence got very strained and Sam got fidgety. I sighed. "Is there something you want to say to me?"
He nodded. "There's a lot I want to say to you. Like--what the hell were you doing climbing that mountain without a harness? And--why the hell haven't you been returning my calls? All leading up to--what the hell's the matter with you?"
I nodded back. "All good questions." I was pretty sure they weren't actual questions.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "How did you get here so quickly, I just got hurt this morning?"
"I was already on my way. Didn't you listen to any of my messages?"
"No. I didn't want to hear your voice. I didn't want to talk to you."
"Because you hated me for leaving?" Sam asked quietly.
"No, you moron. Because I love you."
He smiled then, all the fear he'd walked in with leaving his eyes.
"I love you, too. And I was wondering if you have room for one more person in your house. Because I'm moving to Vancouver."
"What?" If I lived a thousand years, it was the last thing I thought I'd ever hear.
"I still have a lot of immigration stuff to work out. Visitor visas, work visas, that sort of thing. Of course, it would be a whole lot easier if we just got married."
"Married?" I wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the conversation, but my head was positively spinning.
"How did I ever think that I could spend the rest of my life without you? I had a long talk with my brothers, and they all told me I was a fool if I let you go again. Which basically confirmed what I was thinking as I walked around my house, and the farm, and the town. J.P.'s here now, you're here. Independence was where I wanted to be when I was twenty-two. This is where I want to be now."
I smiled at him and shook my head in disbelief. I didn't know what to say.
"I'll still have to go back periodically to check in with my parents and straighten out some business matters, but there are enough Quinns back in Independence to hold up the family legacy. "
We stayed silent for a while. Finally Sam said, "You haven't answered my question."
I looked up at him, my eyes filled to overflowing. "What took you so long?"
He smiled, that slow smile I loved so much.
After a little while I yawned, the drugs and the exhaustion catching up with me.
"I'll go now. There's just one condition. No more soloing," he said.
"I've learned my lesson," I answered. "I'm not twenty-two anymore."
"I know," Sam said. "And I'm really glad."
We told Lily and J.P. when I was more coherent. Lily was thrilled and J.P. came around after a while. They both wanted to make a big deal out of it, but Sam and I said, "No!"
It was a private affair in my backyard, accompanied by my beloved mountains, my beloved children, and my beloved Sam.
But our kids got the last word.
When we walked out the front door to leave, we saw that they had saved the big deal for the car. So we drove off amidst clinking tin cans, trailing streamers, and a sign that read "Finally Married."
Kelsey Lewis has been writing fiction since she was old enough to put pencil to paper. Fortunately typewriters and computers came along, so now people can actually read it. Throughout her twenties and early thirties she worked as a programmer, and hopes none of the software she wrote caused any major catastrophes in January 2000. When her husband moved the family to Canada from the U.S., for a (supposedly) temporary work assignment, she decided to return to her dream of writing fiction. After taking her first writing course, she won a contest and published her first short story, a loosely autobiographical tale about a woman who finds true love after a fortune teller grants her the ability to read minds for a day. When she wonders where the time has gone, she has only to look at her three children, who seem to grow every time she blinks. She's hugely grateful to her husband, Steve, who quietly does the dishes and puts the kids to bed whenever the critique group comes over, instead of saying, "not those crazy writers again!"
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