After Forever Ends (19 page)

We drove on past Welshpool, the “danger zone” as Ollie called it, referring to the fact that it was possible we'd drive up behind his parents on the A483 if they were out. Thankfully we turned off the highway without incident, arriving in to one of those tiny, lovely Welsh villages that look like a snapshot off a post card. On he drove until he turned on to a dirt road that appeared to lead nowhere at all. We took a few more narrow turns until we came upon a place where the way forked into four directions. He took the one going North-East and drove us down a lane that had been dug by years of tire tracks in the grass. He turned one more time, moving slowly as we made our way over uneven ground and finally just stopped. He killed the engine.

“We’re here!” He said happily, looking over at me with a magnificent smile, “Mind, almost. The path’s too overgrown to take the car further. We cleared it as best as we could, but we need to move a fallen tree and that isn’t going to happen without a chainsaw. The cabin’s not too far. I’ll carry the heavy stuff if you can get the lighter bags and hold the torch.”

We got out of the car and began gathering up the sacks of groceries. “Just take one and we'll get the rest tomorrow,” He told me as he tossed my duffel over his shoulder, “What did you pack? An elephant? Great grunting gorillas, my arm will come off!” He teased and then continued to talk excitedly, “I set the cabin up last night, so it’s liveable, but a little musty. Grandpaddy used to bring us here when we were children. It’s magical, you know? Tomorrow when it’s light I’ll show you where the faeries live.”

“The faeries?” I asked. Oliver always talked about fanciful things as if they were real. It was something I loved about him, but one of the things we did not have in common. I still didn’t believe in anything I couldn’t touch and see. It was not yet part of my experience.

“You being from Scotland and you don’t believe in faerie folk? If you were Irish they might shoot you,” I could see him grinning at me as we walked, but he tripped over something in the road and straightened up, “Yeah, Grandpaddy always said that there were faeries here and he showed us the circle where the Lord and the Lady of the Wood live. He used to talk to them. They’re real. Elves are all over this place, especially in the trees. I never saw one of the little folk myself, but, mind, I’ve certainly heard ‘em.” He glanced at me again curiously, “You really don’t believe there’s a chance, do you?”

“A chance of what?”

“That they’re real. The faerie folk.” He watched me for a response, but I gave him none, He continue, undaunted, “Elves are real, that I know. I’ll tell you when we were kids and we used to stay here things would happen. They’d play jokes on us-like, the Lord and Lady would. Like take our socks and hide them in trees. The only way that we’d get them back was to leave sweets in the circle and in the morning our socks would be neatly folded on the table.” He heard me laugh, “You honestly don’t believe me, do you?”

“Not really, but it’s a funny story.” I was trying to watch where I was putting my feet as the path steepened. Nasty vines grabbed at my ankles and I wondered half-heartedly if the elves had planted them to punish me for not believing in them. “I wish I had worn socks, though.”

“Do you want a pair?” He asked sincerely, helping me over a downed branch, “We can stop and I’ll get you a pair from your bag, providing you brought some.”

“I did, but it’s OK. I wouldn’t want them to disappear tonight.”

“Ah, my silly Sil. Why would I lie? It’s true and you’ll find that out when you can’t find your socks in the morning!” He rubbed my shoulder, nearly dropping one of his grocery sacks. “You don’t believe in anything, do you?” He sounded almost sad, “I know you don’t believe in God, but not believing in magic just doesn’t make sense.”

“I never said I don’t believe in God,” I defended myself, “I said I’m not convinced. And most people would say that a faerie stealing your socks doesn’t make sense. Why is not believing in something that can’t be proven so difficult to understand?”

“Because, Love, there’s that and then there’s faith. Then there’s you and me and I believe we are magic. That’s why I brought you here. To prove it to you.”

That statement made me so happy I could have burst, “Maybe there is such a thing then,” I admitted, “If it’s something you can feel but not see. Things like love. Love could be magic.”

“There are lots of things you can feel but not see,” Oliver said knowingly, “And if you point the torch right there,” He moved my hand higher so that the beam of light widened, “You’ll see the cabin.”

It was a tiny, semi-circular one room cabin situated deep in the woods, sitting high on a steep hill. I could hear water ripple from behind it and spotted an owl watching us from a tree right beside the front door. It flew off as we approached. Oliver hurried up to the door, set down his sacks and tugged on the handle. It didn’t open. “What the bloody?” He tugged again, this time harder, and then moved aside a pot from the porch. He took the torch from me, pointed it down and ran the beam of light along where the stone foundation met the bottom of the cabin. Finally, he threw his hands up, “Oh, he did not!” He swore, “That stupid git took the key!”

“What?”

“Alexander! He locked up! First I told him not to lock the bloody door and next he keeps the key in his pocket! I’ll kill him! I swear I will!”

I was shivering in my shoes, the night air biting at my bare legs. “Oliver, it’s OK. We can drive back and get the key.”

“It’s a three hour drive one way, Love!” He was exasperated. His dark eyes were wide and his brows were so high they disappeared under his fringe, “It’ll be near midnight by the time we get there and tomorrow by the time we get back! I had planned to show you around the wood in the morning!” He looked around quickly like a thought had struck him, “Well, sod it all then! I’ll chop it down!”

“Huh?”

“The door,” He looked around irritably and then found what he was searching for; a heavy handled axe leaned against a pile of split wood. “I’ll chop down the door!”

“Oliver, wait!”

I started to stop him, but found I had to step back instead as he swung the axe over his head until the door splintered almost in half. He kicked it in, turned to me and smiled, cocking an eyebrow, “Old wood, Love. I’ll get a new door tomorrow when we go to town,” Oliver held out his hand palm up, “And a proper new lock and key that I’ll keep with me. Come in then and let me show you the place.”

There was nothing to it. It was one oblong room built of stone and wood with a bed shoved against a far wall, “I put clean linens on it,” He told me proudly, then pointed to the bathtub, which was right beside the bed, “We can use this, too. I washed it-like, except that there’s no running water. You have to take water from the well, and then boil some on the stove to make it warm and dump it in. When you’re through, you pull the plug and there’s a hole cut in the floor where it drains out. Brill! Mind, stove’s there,” He motioned to the other side of the room, “Burns wood and it gets right warm in here.” He lit an oil lamp, which was on a sconce against the wall. The room sprang to light, “There’s the loft up there. That’s where me and Alex used to sleep. Don’t think we’ll need that, but the ladder’s hanging just in case. Now the loo is outside, back there, but I left some paper in here in case you don’t want to…”

“I love it!” I told him enthusiastically.

He beamed, “Really?”

“Yes! But I’m freezing!”

“Right! I’ll light the stove!” He shuffled past me and began to fiddle with some matches while I threw broken boards from the door out into the lawn. When he was through lighting the fire, he hung a duvet over the doorway, which did very little to keep out the night wind. We sat on the floor near the warmth of the stove and snuggled beneath a woollen blanket, enjoying the closeness of each other. That was something that we did our whole life together, just sit and be close. Often it involved no erotic touching or even kissing, but it was very much just as intimate. Oliver’s arms were the warmest, safest place I had ever been or would ever go. I never found another spot where I felt more like I was home.

So there we were a few hours later, wrapped in the blanket with our fire burning down, and the sun already on the rise. We were dozing a bit, with me leaned back against his chest. I could hear his breathing become light and feel his body slump and then he would jerk and wake us both. I was just asleep when he whispered, “I love you, Sil.” He ran his hand along the inside of my bare arm. I felt his nose against my neck as he inhaled my skin, ”Just Silvia Cotton, not hurt or ticked off,” He kissed my ear, “Just Silvia Cotton and she’s just fine…and I love her.”

He’d said it a thousand times by then, but every time he did I felt a rush of warmth. I turned my head toward him and my lips lingered on his. “Let’s go to bed,” He whispered in the same voice, “It’s almost light outside and you’re already asleep. No need to stay on the floor when there’s a bed to lie in,” I allowed him to half lift me in his arms and went with him to the side of the bed. It was dark away from the stove. I could see the outline of his body as he pulled his heavy sweater over his head. He drew back the duvet and was on his knees as he held out his hand for me to take. I reached for him and stepped in close, taking him off balance.

It was me who initiated it. I began kissing him slowly on his mouth, his chin, on his throat, his neck, his ears, the part of his chest exposed beneath his t-shirt. I let my hands wander over his broad shoulders, the back of his neck and face, down his sides to his hips. I undid the button on his jeans and pushed them down with his briefs. I ran my fingers across the hard, flat muscles of his tummy, let them slide around his hips and across his bottom. I pulled up his t-shirt and lifted it over his head. .

Oliver returned my kisses and my touch. His hands caressed my face and arms. They tangled my hair. He crushed me to him, warmed my thighs with his long fingers. He unzipped the zipper on my skirt. It clung to my hips for a second, and then fell uselessly to the floor. He fumbled with the buttons on my blouse until it fell open, then ran his lips along the bulge of my breasts, not even trying to undo my bra or go beneath it, just breathing me in and tasting my skin. Then he unclasped it with one hand and caressed my breasts as he kissed my neck.

I pulled his face back to mine. He scooped me off the floor like I weighed nothing and lay me on the bed. He kissed my breasts, dragged the tip of his tongue over them and along the length of my belly and down the path to my knickers. I lifted my hips to help him remove them and then he found me.

I gasped. I was weak all over.

Oliver moved back up and laid his weight upon me. I had never wanted anything so badly in my life as I wanted him. I wanted all of him, every bit of his body, every piece of his soul, every ounce of his love. There was no sound but our breath, the only light in the room were grey whispers that seeped in around the edges of the sheet he had hung in the doorway. I finished undressing him, slowly and with great care, making every inch of his flesh known to me.

We were belly to belly on the smooth sheet, my legs wrapped around his middle. I could feel him ready for me, so close to where I was waiting. On thrust and he would be inside me, but he stayed still, kissing me endlessly, waiting for my final permission. I rolled on to my back and pulled him on to me in one motion.

“Make love me to me,” I whispered in his ear, “Please, I want you to. I’m ready.”

There were no more words. He asked no questions. He loved me. I loved him in return. There was no rushing, no nervous or clumsy hands, no second thoughts or anxiety about what we were doing. It was Oliver and me becoming one as we had always been meant to be. The way he melted into me astonished me; how easily my body had given in to allow it to happen, how smooth the skin of his back was as he focused his strength to keep from crushing me, how right the bulk of his body felt on top of mine, so fine, so perfect, pressing me down. I revelled in the way his muscles moved with mine, skin on skin, so supple. I would never have imagined a boy so strong could be so yielding, but he was, gentle as ever. I loved the way he breathed into my ear and moaned so softly, the way he responded to the sounds I made in reply. I was amazed by him and by the way we took each other to a place we had never known existed and never wanted to leave. The way he loved me….

He brought me to life.

I had never felt so safe, so completely warm and protected. He moved upon me slowly, gently, with a rhythm that said he never wanted to stop. I clung to him with my arms and legs, caressing him with my limbs. My heart was pounding.

“Sil,” He whispered, “I…oh, Love, I…”

“No-no, no-no,” I clung to him tighter, “It’s all right, Oliver. I want you to. Please, come to me, Sweetheart. Let me give you that.”

He groaned, almost a whimper, and his body began to shudder. After a moment, it was as if all the strength had left him and he laid still, his breath hot and even on my neck.

I didn’t move him. I cradled him instead, holding him inside me as I came back to reality. I wished that we would never have to return to school or to our homes. I wished that I could stay in that little cabin like this with him forever.

We lay together, still stroking each other‘s skin, “You are so beautiful,” He mumbled, “You’re so soft. You feel just like silk…”

I never prayed. I never talked to God or believed that he even existed, but that morning, I thanked him. I thanked God for creating a man as wonderful as Oliver and I promised that I would be a woman fit to have him.

“Just say that you want to stay right here with me forever.” I whispered to Oliver, “Just tell me we can.”

“Maybe we can do that,” He replied dreamily, “Maybe this can be our home.” He lifted his head and looked at me with those beautiful, dark eyes. He was so tired he could barely focus them, “There’s magic here. There is.”

I smiled, “I know.”

He moved off my body and pulled the blankets up over us, gathering me close. “We’re so tired,” His words slurred, “Come, let me hold you.”

I lay my head on his chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart. He stroked my hair gently with one hand and wove our fingers together with the other. I found myself falling asleep.