Envisioning Hope (13 page)

My
son… my everything.

"Mommy,
did you see how high I was?"

I
wanted to answer him, but nothing would come out. I just nodded my head. 
Sawyer reached out his hand for me to take and I didn't hesitate. I closed my
eyes and reveled in this moment. For all I knew, it would be gone with my next
breath.

"Babe,
come sit over here. Lunch is ready. Everything looks so good," Charlie
said as he eyed the scrumptious looking morsels I supposedly made.

"Sit
by me, mommy!" Sawyer exclaimed as he pulled me along. I giggled as I
began to walk quickly behind him. The sound of the wind blowing through the
trees and the sun's warmth beaming down on my face, I never wanted this moment
to end.

Maybe
I had died and gone to heaven,
I thought to myself. This dream was lasting a lot longer than the others one
had. Maybe this was my destiny. To be here, in this place, with them; finally
back together once and for all.

Taking
a seat on the plaid blanket next to Sawyer, I leaned on my elbows and tilted my
face up into the sunlight. The soft grass tickled my hands as I laid them back
behind me. I curled my hand up tightly, digging my fingers into the cold dirt
as though it was my anchor keeping me tied to this place.

"Hope,
what do you want?"

My
name on Charlie's tongue made me melt inside. I hadn't heard it in so long. I
brought my head up and opened my eyes.

"Say
it again."

Charlie
stopped dishing out food onto Sawyer's plate and looked up at me with a smile. "What
do you want to eat?" he asked with a laugh in his voice, bewildered as to
why I would want him to repeat such a simple request.

"No…
no," I said with a smile. "I want to hear you say my name." 
Suddenly, the smile left his face and his eyes grew warm as he looked deeply
into my eyes. "Hope, my darling Hope."

I
closed my eyes and played it over and over again in my head. I wanted to hear
it every moment of every hour of every day. My throat began stinging as I
swallowed the sobs that were pleading to leave me. I couldn't allow it, this
was a happy time.

"Mommy,
can you see me?"

I
could hear Sawyer's question as I slowly began to open my eyes.

Everything
had changed.

My
surroundings were not in a beautiful park sitting next to my son and my
husband. The sun was not beaming down on me warm and bright, there was no grass
gripped in my hands anymore and I wasn't happy to be where I was.

I
was back in that car.

"Had
a great time tonight, babe."

Don't
say that! Don't say those words. I couldn't hear them again! I couldn't deal
with the outcome that I knew was coming; it always came and I was sick to
fucking death of seeing it.

"Take
it back," I whispered softly. Suddenly, Charlie's head turned my way.

"Take
it back, Charlie…take back those words this instant! Do it, Charlie, say you
didn't mean them."

I
was yelling and talking so fast, I barely drew in a breath. His eyes were big,
his brows were drawn in, and concern filled his face.

"What?
Why…what's going on, babe? Are…are you okay?"

I
wasn't okay, I was hysterical. Nothing else would come out of my mouth but
those words. "Take them back, Charlie…take it all back! Every bit of it!"
This was a nightmare that kept replaying in my mind. Over and over again I had
to live through the night that my husband and son died and there was nothing I
could do to change the outcome.

The
light turned green and I braced myself. I closed my eyes because I knew the end
of my dream was near. I felt the car take off slowly and then we built up
speed. Just then, I saw the bright light and…

I
didn't go back to sleep for the rest of the night.

The
tears wouldn't allow it.

*
* *

"Time
to wake up, sleepyhead!"

I
heard his voice but I didn't want to wake up, I wanted just to stay where I
was. The noise of fast shuffling registered in my head. He was busy doing god
only knows what and I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it.

"Hope…"

The
shuffling stopped and I had a feeling he was looking down at me.

"Time…to…get…up."
That deep, country accent was trying to come across as demanding but he didn't
fool me.

"I'm
up," I mumbled so that he would get off my ass. I sat up, smiled a side
smile, and turned over to my other side. I couldn't see his reaction but I had
a feeling he was getting pretty pissed off.

"We
have a lot of work to do seeing's how I haven't been here in two days,"
Oliver said as the shuffling continued. Now it was my turned to be confused.
Two days? We had just met yesterday.

I
sat up quickly and scratched my head. "What do you mean two days? You just
came yesterday." The shuffling once again stopped and I heard his feet
stomping as they came my way. I felt the bed sink in and I knew he was sitting
next to me.

"Hope,
honey, you've been out for two days now. I tried to come, but you were totally
out of it. It was like you were in a coma."

That's
why my dream was so long
,
I mused to myself as the thoughts of what the hell those doctors gave me ran
through my head. Out of nowhere, I felt Oliver's hand lay over the top of mine.
His hand was warm and consumed mine. It was then I realized that I had never
had any type of contact with this man. He had been coming to me every day for
almost a year and I knew nothing about him. His grasp on my hand became tighter
and the heat he produced sent chills up my arm.

"I
want you to know that I came. I sat here, Hope… hoping that you would wake up
and talk to me about what's going on."

I
didn't say anything, what could I say? That I had been spending time with my
dead husband and son? That was our time not anyone else's and I wanted to keep
it that way. Just like everything else in my life, I wanted to be left alone.

I
kept my head straight but pulled my other hand up slowly, very slowly, allowing
it to travel across my lap onto my other side. I sat my hand atop of Oliver's
and laid it out flat. I pulled the tops of my fingers up as to wrap around the
tips of his, but I couldn't, his hands were too big. I ran my fingers slowly
over his skin, taking in what his hands felt like. The texture was soft, but
not like a woman's. His skin was worn but smooth. I could feel the tops of his
knuckles, they were rigid. Continuing up slowly, his fingers were skinny but
they were a good size. I ran my thumb over the skin on the inside of his hand
and felt calluses. He was a hard worker and he used his hands a lot. His
fingernails were short and jagged as if he bit them. I let out a small giggle.

"What's
so funny?" Oliver asked as I continued stroking his hand, taking in all I
could get out of this tactile skill.

"You
bite your nails."

He
laughed a small laugh but didn't say anything as I continued on with my
inspection. My hands found his wrist and continued up his lower arm. I was
being drawn to keep going, but I knew I wouldn't go any higher. His skin was
still warm as I ran my fingers over the light amount of hair that covered his
arms. The muscles contracted and relaxed under my touch and I pulled back
quickly.

"I'm
sorry!" I exclaimed as I began to stand up. Oliver's hand caught mine and
didn't allow me to pull away. "What are you sorry for?" he retorted
almost immediately. "This is how you learn, Hope. How you get to know your
surroundings. People who you care about, animals that bring you joy… they can
see you, appreciate what is in their sight, don't you want to be able to have
that, too? Don't apologize for making a huge accomplishment."

Slowly,
I turned to the side, crossed my legs Indian style, and shyly asked, "Do
you mind…if…if I see what you look like?"

I
didn't hear his response but I felt the bed move as though he was turning to
face me. He didn't pull his hands away from mine as he made himself comfortable
in front of me. Gently, I sat his hands down in his lap and moved my hands up
to his face. Cupping my hands to the side of his face, I felt the warmth of his
skin against my cold hands. I smiled a small smile at the feeling it brought to
me. I missed having that type of warmth against my skin. Lowering my hands, I could
feel the soft facial hair that lay gently against his skin. I let out a small
embarrassed laugh as I heard him laugh.

"What?"
Oliver asked through his smile.

"I
didn't picture you with a beard," I responded through my laughter.

I
cupped his jaw in my hand and could feel it tick where he was clenching and
releasing. Quickly, I pulled my hands away just to have him catch them and
place them back on his skin. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you
uncomfortable," I quietly whispered as he held my hands to his face.

"Don't
apologize," Oliver whispered as I felt him move closer to me, his body
heat invading my space. "Don't ever be sorry," he finished in a
whisper, his lips almost touching mine.

I
brought my hands up to the top of his head and started back down over his
features. Running my fingertips over his eyebrows, I could feel they were
furrowed. I massaged the area between them to see if they would relax. I felt
them pull apart slowly. Carefully, I ran my hands over his eyes.

"What
color are your eyes?" I asked as I felt them twitch under my touch.

"Brown,"
Oliver answered instantly.  I could hear the nervousness in his tone, but I
continued on with my journey, taking in his features as they painted a picture
that I could see in my head. It was the most incredible feeling I had ever
encountered. To see exactly what I wanted to see, not what I was supposed to
see. The perfection of what was in front of me through my mind's eye had me
giddy with empowerment. I had a gift that the normal person had but wasn't
capable of using. Fulfillment once again ran through my body for just a moment
and I realized how much I missed it. I hadn't felt that feeling since… well… I
continued by running my fingers over his nose. I found it was the perfect size
as I followed the path down both sides to his cheekbones.

His
face was thin but not too thin. The contour of his bone structure under my
fingers was beautiful to touch, to be able to describe it in words would never
do it justice, but I could literally feel the life within him. The heat from
his skin meant the blood flow was strong. The nervous tick in his jaw meant
that his heart was beating fast. His answer to my question was in a nervous
response, he was more than just living…he was
Alive
.

With
the softest of touches, I ran my fingers over his lips. His beard was cut over
his top lip, which was thin but fit nicely up against his lower full lip. I
smiled at the thought of his gorgeous smile.

Just
as I went to pull away, Oliver grabbed my hand up against his lips. I didn't
know if I should pull away or stay, but something inside of me told me not to
move. We sat there silently, my eyes closed as I pictured what emotion was
showing on his beautiful face. I made sure that my face was emotionless because
I didn't want him reading my thoughts.

I
was overwhelmed with what had just happened and how I felt about it. Thoughts
of what he felt like against my fingers, how the temperature of his skin warmed
my entire body. I thought of my hands under his, how he directed them where he wanted
my touch. I quickly wondered what it would be like to move my hands all over
him like that and that thought made me feel something. Something I hadn't felt
in so long…

Alive
.

Suddenly,
a wave of grief and guilt overcame me. This was so wrong. I should never allow
thoughts like that to control my mind when I should be remembering my husband
and son.

I
shook my head trying to rid the thoughts. Touch, to me, had always been an
intimate expression of feelings. The way you comfort a close personal friend by
putting your arms around them in a hug, pulling them into you as you protect
them from whatever it is that has hurt or tried to harm them. An intimate touch
can say words that your mouth could never come close to interpreting. Take for
instance, the private touch of a lover.  Exploring every inch of the one who
your heart bleeds for, making them yours as you memorize every part of them.
This was wrong to think about when it came to Oliver…

But,
I couldn't stop myself.

I
felt the bed move as Oliver got up.  I heard his feet shuffling toward the door
and then stop. Turning my body in that direction, I jumped when his voice
caught me off guard.

"You
have ten minutes to get ready, we're going somewhere."

Chapter 13

My
mind was going a thousand miles a minute. Where was he taking me? What will I
have to do? I wasn't ready to go outside into the real world, I never wanted to
step foot out there again. I felt Oliver's hand grasp around mine and he
started to move.
"Now, as we move, I'm going to give you instructions. If there is a step,
I'll tell you up or down. If we need to turn right, I will tell you. Got me?"