A Minute to Smile (21 page)

Amazed he could still be so unsatisfied, he pushed her backward and this time took her with a frenzy that had been lacking a moment before. She met his thrusts with arches and cries, tangling with him violently. The passion built again fervently, wildly, and he felt the fury edging through him and the quivering of Esther around him just as he felt their bodies slip a little. She cried out, throwing her arms and legs tightly around him as they slid on the discarded quilt to the floor. As they landed in a tangle of blankets and limbs, the explosions rocketed through them once again.

After a moment, Esther laughed throatily, shifting to pull a convenient blanket over their bodies as a chill crept through the room. He lay on his back and she rested her chin on his chest. With one finger, she reached up to trace a line through his beard. Her dark eyes were luminous and her cheeks had a healthy glow. “I’ve never fallen off a bed before,” she said softly.

“Me, either,” he said at last. He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. “But there’s never been a woman who made me feel like you do.”

Her gaze flickered away and he caught her chin. She looked at him, an oddly vulnerable expression in her eyes. “I’ve been dead, Esther. You’ve given me life again.”

“You weren’t dead,” she whispered. “You were only asleep.” She slid along his body until she could press kisses on his face. The soft press of her thighs and belly and breast against him sent echoes and prelude through his nerves. “It was my good luck to be the one to kiss you awake.”

“No,” he said, pulling up until he could look into the beautiful face. He kissed her solemnly, feeling a new emotion rise within him. “It was mine,” he said with gravity. Before he could speak his love aloud he pressed his mouth to hers again, hearing her whispered words mirror the ones in his heart.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you.”

M
onday morning, Esther awakened alone for the first time since Friday evening. As she turned in the big bed, she felt her muscles protest weakly and she smiled softly in remembrance of all the delightful ways those muscles had been exercised.

She and Alexander had left the cocoon of his bed only for food and once for a shared shower. The rest of the time they had spent tangled together, loving and talking and laughing.

But now it was Monday morning. She snuggled under the covers for a few minutes more, admiring the soft light pushing at the shades on the east side of the room, wishing there were more days to spend with only Alexander, alone here with nothing to intrude. She wished for a sailboat awash on the Pacific for long weeks, the larder stocked with all they could possibly want. She wished for a deserted island or a cabin deep in a primitive forest.

Unfortunately he had classes to teach. She had a house that needed attention and a business that would go under if she didn’t get someone in to make the repairs. Guiltily she realized she had not called Abe to tell him what had happened; if he’d come by the house over the weekend, he would be worried sick by now.

This thought finally propelled her out of bed and into the shower. She dressed and wandered out of Alexander’s room in search of him. A door stood ajar down the hall and she paused to peek in.

It stretched the width of the house. Toward the front was the window with the ceramic pitcher and washbowl in front of it—her serenity room, Esther realized with a smile.

She laughed at the actual picture, because boxes were stacked on one wall, and the accumulations of several years sat on tables and in chairs. It wasn’t sloppy—just disorganized.

Esther pushed the door open and went in, looking around in delight. Beyond the clutter, she saw that it fulfilled the promise she had imagined. Gentle light would fill the room at all times of day except early morning. A dusty sewing machine sat in one corner, and a dressmaker’s dummy draped with a piece of cloth stood mutely alongside. The walls were painted a warm peach, and a wide border of green leaves traveled along a chair rail.

This had been Susan’s place. The rest of the house, over the course of years since her death, had gradually taken on the stamp of Alexander’s personality. Here, she lingered.

A small noise from the backyard drew Esther’s attention and she wandered to the back windows. Below, in the dew-wet grass, was Alexander. Dressed only in his loose cotton trousers in spite of the chilly morning air, he performed his tai chi exercise. Pale sunlight danced in his dark curls and glistened over his naked, beautiful torso.

Esther touched her stomach, feeling it tighten, struck again by the power and grace he displayed. No movement was wasted, not a single stumble marred his smooth, circular gestures.

In some way, seeing him at work on his discipline underlined the mystery of him, the depth of his complicated personality. He was a history professor with a passion for intellectual challenge—who junked out on old movies and suspense novels. He was a neat widower who wore hand-tailored shirts and spoke in precise British syllables, and a man who could tumble with two young boys until they were gasping for breath. His eyes could twinkle as quickly as they could go that strange, bleak gray. He was a magnificent lover, powerful and tender, and a man who was desperately afraid to love again for fear he could not survive the loss it might entail.

And when he danced like this in the still morning, she saw he was a mystic who desperately needed to believe in something.

She turned away, leaving him to his privacy. Her hip bumped a pile of papers on the sewing table, sending them scattering to the floor. She bent to pick them up. As she reached for them, though, her hands froze on a photograph.

Esther picked it up, feeling a flutter of sorrow and memory—a memory that had tugged her when Alexander had told her of Susan’s eyes.

The woman in the photograph was not pretty, but her eyes were as wide as a mountain sky, their color the shade of storm clouds. She laughed in the photo, showing good white teeth and powerful humor.

Esther had known her.

She settled on her knees, holding the picture in her hands, remembering. Before Esther had opened the organic foods store in the front of her house, she had worked in an herb store in downtown Boulder. Susan had been a regular customer and Esther had grown friendly with her. It had been plain that she was ill: she was pale and emaciated and wore a scarf over her hair. She bought herbs to prevent nausea and help her sleep.

But Esther had loved to see her coming. She always had a joke to tell in her broad Irish brogue and somehow carried such a vital sense of energy with her that Esther felt revived by her presence.

The last time Esther had seen her, Susan was very tired. It was a foggy winter day. They were alone in the fragrant store. As she paid for the small bags of herbs, Susan’s hands trembled and Esther had insisted she come sit down to have a cup of hot tea before she left.

Settled by the broad plate-glass window, the gray mist beyond isolating them, Susan had sipped the tea. “I’m ready to go, you know,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Esther touched her hand in encouragement. She had learned in her nurses’ training that often the best possible thing a nurse could do was let a patient talk. Especially about dying, a subject more taboo than exotic sex.

“I’m not afraid,” Susan said, eyeing the pale fog. “It’s my husband who can’t get past the dying.” She smiled at Esther, shaking her head. “You know how men are. They think they can control everything and rage at the heavens in fury when things don’t go just as they had planned.”

Esther smiled in sympathy, thinking of her father.

“His mother died when he was a teenager and he’s never quite overcome the sense of betrayal. I keep hoping he’ll get to the point where he can forgive life for taking its capricious turns, but I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Still Esther said nothing, just held Susan’s hand.

“I got him a cat last week,” she said. “It’s a horrible animal—should infuriate him enough to keep him going for a while.”

Esther chuckled.

“Maybe they’ll let me watch over him for a bit,” she said with a lift of an eyebrow.

Esther squeezed her fingers gently. “Maybe they will.”

Susan’s hand tightened in return and she stood up. “I’ve taken advantage of your good nature,” she said and buttoned her coat. At the door, she paused. “Thank you for listening,” she said, and left.

Sitting now in the middle of that same woman’s room, Esther smiled. Perhaps Susan had been given a guardian job, after all. Stranger things had happened. Thoughtfully she stacked the papers together on the sewing machine. In the yard below, Alexander had finished his series of exercises and simply stood in the grass, staring off toward the mountains, a pensive expression on his face.

Through the joy of loving him, Esther felt a small chill. He had not told her he loved her; not once through the long hours of their lovemaking. He had worshiped her reverently with his hands and lips and eyes; he had given her everything else, but had not confessed to love. As she watched him, he sighed and turned away, his heart obviously heavy.

She loved him. But would even all her love heal the dark scars he carried? Would he let her close enough, or would there come a moment when he shut her out, rather than risk his heart again? Would she be able to prevent it if he decided to lock himself up again in routines and schedules?

A strange urgency gripped her and she turned away from the window and nearly ran down the stairs. He came in the back door as she was coming through the kitchen, and without stopping to think, she rushed forward into his arms, pressing herself against him as if this was her last opportunity.

There was laughter in his voice when he spoke. “Did you miss me so much in so short a time?”

Since she couldn’t articulate her sudden fears, she simply nodded.

His arms tightened around her. “Ah, Esther, you are good for my soul.” He lifted her chin with one hand. “I can’t quite believe my good fortune in finding you.”

The words were stated in hushed honesty and his eyes shone with a joy Esther had never seen in them before. Her heart swelled. He loved her, whether he knew it or not, whether he said it aloud or kept it to himself. He loved her.

Golden happiness flooded through her, as warm as the sunlight beginning to pour through the windows.

She smiled as a quickening of desire rippled in her belly. “I’ll look forward to this evening,” she said.

He gave her a lazy grin as his hands slipped down to curl around her bottom. “So will I.” The lightning eyes flashed turquoise. “Already I’m beginning to feel quite vampirish.”

The quickening in her belly spread outward as he playfully nipped her neck, and she laughed. “I’d better arm myself with garlic.”

“It won’t help.” Reluctantly he lifted his head. “I’d best go now, before I find it impossible.”

* * *

Esther couldn’t make her wish of an isolated cabin or a ship awash on the Pacific come true. Her days were spent consulting with electricians and carpenters, insurance adjustors and loan officers. Alexander spent his at the university, not only teaching the few summer classes he had, but making preparations for the fall as well.

But the nights came as close to her vision as anything could have. They watched horror and suspense movies, eating popcorn, or sat in the rose-scented garden until very late, talking quietly under a canopy of glistening stars.

And they made love. In the usual places and less usual—on the couch while a movie played forgotten on the VCR, popcorn spilling unnoticed to the floor; in the shower while water ran silkily over their entwined bodies; once against the wall in the kitchen, moments after Alexander came home from work.

It made her blush sometimes to think of it. Both of them seemed a little drunk with passion, drunk enough to disregard anything but the promise of joining one more time. Even now, as she stir-fried green peppers and tomatoes with strips of beef for their supper, she couldn’t wait for him to come home so that she could kiss him. He was a wonderful lover—tender and slow at times, furiously passionate at others. She never tired of touching his sleek, hard body or feeling his sensual lips upon her. Liquid heat spilled through her, just thinking of it.

Stirring the mix in the wok, she frowned. Even through the haze of love and hunger, she worried about things a little. While she’d always known that he led an orderly life, she’d not understood just how orderly until she stayed with him. He rose at the dot of seven and went directly outside to go through his tai chi regimen. Afterward, he drank coffee and ate an omelet or bacon and bread for breakfast, then showered and went to work.

In the evenings, he headed directly for the kitchen for a single bottle of ale that he drank in the garden. His world was disciplined.

He liked her children, enjoyed them in ways men often didn’t. If given the chance, he would love them. But he had no idea how radically two young boys would change his life. There would be no quiet at seven, no peace at five in the afternoon. The house, while hardly neurotically clean, was generally tidy. Children would change that, too. She grimaced. Not to mention how Esther herself would change it.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, he came into the kitchen. His curls were tousled from the walk home, his broad nose a little sunburned. The tie with its tiny pattern of swords was loose around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned to show a broad triangle of golden chest. “It’s hot out there,” he said, shoving a hand through the riot of hair. He reached into the fridge for a bottle of ale and frowned as he caught her eye. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Looks like Esther’s been fretting again.”

With a grin, he caught her from behind, an arm around her neck, the other around her waist. “What is it, my sweet?” There was amusement in his voice. “What are you trying to protect me against today?”

She smiled at being pegged so accurately. “The usuals,” she admitted.

“If I were you, love,” he murmured against her neck, “I’d worry about protecting myself against the vampire that is about to devour you.” He bit her neck.