Every Rose (25 page)

Now, I’m the shocked one. Here I was thinking that I’d hid
den all of this quite nicely. I’d hidden it well enough from myself for a while, so I figured others were clueless as well. “Ms. Elise, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Well, I hinted at it here and there. But these things can’t be rushed. Enough about the past, though.” She waves an impatient hand. “Tell me all about him.”

“Where to start?” I puzzle. “His name is Michael. He was one of my oldest and dearest friends. He professed his love for me a long time ago, but I was too scared to admit my own feelings. He had a rocky start to adulthood, but now he’s in school. He’s working really hard at building a good life for himself. Besides all that, he’s so talented. I think he can play like five different instruments. He can draw and paint just about anything. He writes his own lyrics and poetry. And...he’s amazing,” I finish on a sigh.

She gives me a little grin and shakes her head at me. “He sounds amazing. I take it it’s more than just friendship now?”

“Yes, he’s asked me to marry him,” I squeak out. I still can’t believe this little fact. I pinch my lips together because I think my smile may look more like a homicidal maniac’s than a woman in love.

“Oh, honey. That was fas
t. But when you know, you know I always say.”

“I know. I still can’t believe it. I went home sheathed in complete dread and stumbled upon the only guy I’ve ever loved. It’s been crazy. I love him like crazy. Miss him like crazy.” I shake myself from my little reverie. “Anyway, he’s coming to see me during spring break. Can we rearrange the schedule a little so that I can have as much time as possible with him?” I cringe a little because I know I really don’t deserve to ask for any special favors right now.

She smiles at me and laughs. “Absolutely, I don’t even want to imagine how distracted you would be if you’re working and he’s right down the road waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Ms. Elise. I can’t wait for you to meet him. You’re gonna love him,” I promise her.

………………………………………………………

Only a few days to go, I muse.
I try to refocus on my professor’s lecture about preparing for our midterm, which is the day before break. He seems to make eye contact with me in particular when he stresses the need to prepare several thoughts on possible discussion questions and practice responding to them. I fidget in my seat a little.

When he releases us, I pack up slowly because I’m not looking forward to going to the library to study. His voice cuts through my procrastinating brain, “Miss Dabney, do you have a moment?”

“Of course, Dr. Richardson,” I reply quickly. Shit! He’s never asked to speak to me before, and I’ve had him for several classes. If he wanted to say something, he just said it. And he’s called me Miss Dabney. I fear this conversation is going to go somewhat like the one I’d had with Ms. Elise. I move over to his desk as he packs up.

He pauses and looks up at me. “I’m going to cut right to the chase here, Miss Dabney. You’re not doing well in my class or your others, for that
matter. What do you plan to do to rectify that?”

“Oh…I’m going to take care of it, Dr. Richardson.” I launch into an explanation of my plan to bring my grades back up, telling him that I will use extra time during spring break to get caught back up. I’m pretty impressed that I know exactly what I need to do in order to get caught up considering I haven’t given it much thought.

He seems to believe that I have a sound plan. “That sounds good, Lorraina. Your situation is not dire; but as your advisor, it’s my duty to make sure you stay on the right track, especially since you have been awarded a scholarship for law school. We can’t send a less than excellently prepared candidate, you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it.”

“Great. I hope everything is OK.”

“Oh, yes. Everything is fine. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” I leave with another promise to do better. I really do have to get it my stuff together. I’ll worry about that after Michael’s visit, though.

Chapter Twenty-eight

My Little Pearl

I pull into the hotel parking lot and kill my engine quickly. I grab the rearview mirror and tilt it so that I can smooth on my lip-gloss and twist the tendrils framing my face one more time. I smack my peony pink lips at myself and shiver as I anticipate where they will be landing in a matter of minutes. I grab my bag and jump out of the car. My new flirty skirt billows up a little, and I hurry to smooth it down.
Whoa, girl!

I walk as briskly as I am able on my new heels without compromising my tenuous hold on coordination. As I reach the stairs that will lead up to his room, I throw my hand up on the hand rail and lift my leg to take the first step, shooting a glance upwards to my destination. When I do, my breath hitches in my throat. He’s been waiting for me at the top of the stairs. He lays his book down and stands up. He has a brilliant smile on his face. He’s cut his hair a little. I mentally frown—less for me to run my hands through. I thought I would always prefer him in black, but here he is in a plain white v-neck t-shirt that fits him rather snuggly. He hasn’t discarded my favorite pair of faded blue jeans or his black motorcycle boots, though.

I have frozen in place as I grin up at him like an idiot. I take another moment to admire him. I have a sudden flash of my favorite scene from
Up Close and Personal
where Redford stands at the bottom of the escalator starring up at Michelle Pfeiffer. I had always thought that was absolutely the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Not anymore. I finally remember that I should move up the stairs. He starts down towards me so that we meet in the middle.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi yourself,” he whispers back. I giggle at our anticlimactic beginning. “You look happy to see me,” he surmises.

“So happy,” I assure him.

“Me too.” He reaches out and places his hand on top of mine on the railing and moves down to my stair. I turn until my back grazes the rail. The light touch of it and his hand and his breath have my body singing. My eyes widen and I swallow hard. I look up at him and am elated to see these same things reflected in his eyes. I give a shaky laugh. His other hand comes up to finger the little pewter cross at my neck.

“You’re wearing my cross,” he states. “I didn’t think you had it anymore.”

“I didn’t get rid of everything. I’m so glad. This has come to mean so much to me.” He leans his forehead on mine.

“Mmm…Lorraina,” he murmurs. “This is crazy.”
He grasps the back of my hand in his palm and pulls my forehead to his lips and kisses it, then my cheek, next my other cheek, finally my mouth. He slants his mouth over mine and moves his lips in a lazy, sinuous way. Like he has all day to stand there and kiss me. I stamp down my impatience to devour him and go with the flow.

After what se
ems like forever, he pulls back; grabs my hand; and leads me up to his room. After he lets me in, he leans back on the door and spins me in his arm so that I land on his chest with a quiet thump. His eyes are electric, and I attack him with all the pent up desire I’ve been feeling these past few months. We kiss and touch other until my lips are swollen and my limbs are lethargic. At some point we find ourselves lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Only our labored breathing fills the otherwise silent room. Did I seriously think our reunion was anticlimactic?

Michael pulls himself up on his elbow and stares down at me. “By far my favorite hello ever,” he decrees.

“I’ve had better,” I kid him. “Why just last week, my linguistics professor welcomed me by—”

His lips cut me off as he begins another assault on my senses. He tastes so delicious that I never want to stop kissing him. He has other ideas, though, and he pulls back all too quickly. “God, I missed you.”

I place my hand on his cheek and run my fingers through his hair. Still plenty of it there for my purposes, I muse. “I missed you too, Michael, so much.” I pull him back down for another kiss.

I stretch and before I open my eyes I know that the sun has gone down and I’ve fallen asleep on Michael. I shouldn’t be surprised; I haven’t slept well in months. I hear him very lightly picking his guitar across the room. I pull myself up on my elbows and watch him play for a moment. After a few minutes of staring at him, I accuse, “You let me fall asleep.”

“Oh…I couldn’t help it. We both dozed off. I woke up before you and didn’t have the heart to disturb you. You looked so peaceful. Anyway, I wanted you well-rested for tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? What are we doing tonight?” I already have plans of my own for him.

“Dinner and talking,” he says.

“That sounds ominous,” I tell him.

“No, no.” He shakes his head and grins. “It’s nothing bad.”

“OK. Let me go freshen up.”  I close the bathroom door and stare into the mirror and urge myself not to chicken out. I want Michael to make love to me tonight. No, scratch that, I need him to make love to me. I want to be his in every way possible and just can’t imagine waiting anymore. I run through my plan once again. Look irresistible. Apparently check. Steamy make out session. Double check. Dinner so that I can ply him with wine and tell him of my hopes for us. Up next. Followed by round of pool where I can bend this way and that in my cute skirt while consuming a couple of alcoholic beverages to bolster my courage. This should all result in Michael needing me as much as I need him. Finally, I can have my way with him. I give myself a huge grin and ignore the little voice inside my head that reminds me he really wants to wait.

………………………………………………………

He’s taken me to a little Italian restaurant on the outskirts of town. I’m surprised that he knows about it, but he assures me that he’s done his research so that we wouldn’t waste any of our time together on less than perfect moments. We’re waiting for our food to arrive, so I figure now is the time for me to discuss my ideas for our future together. I take a long pull from my wine, and I began to shiver and blanche. It was a little drier than I expected.
So much for being seductive.

Michael shoots me a knowing grin and asks, “You OK?” I nod at him, not yet ready to try to speak. “You gotta slow down with that. It’s meant to be savored not chugged.” He laughs a little.

“I need a little liquid courage,” I admit.

“Oh, yeah. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong exactly. I just want to talk to you about a couple of things,” I hedge.

He just raises his eyebrows and nods his head at me.

He doesn’t throw me a lifeline, forcing me to take an unassisted plunge. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about what’s been keeping me so busy.”

“You mean besides having hot phone sex with me?”

I feel a thrill shoot down my entire body and coil in one telling spot. Oh, how he gets to me. I feign irritation at his ploy to sidetrack me. “No, actually. This is the exact opposite of all that. I’ve been attending Mass here, and I’ve found a sponsor who volunteered to ready me for joining the Church.”

He has the decency to look ashamed because of the different planes
of thoughts. He recovers quite nicely. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I wanted to be sure that it was going to work out at first. Then, I wanted it to be a surprise. Because I started back in January, I’ll be able to take Holy Communion at the Easter Vigil.”

He sits back and expels a breath, running his hands through his hair. He quickly sits back up and takes my hand in his. “Lorraina, you have no idea what this means to me. I’m just…I’m just blown away. I mean I know we talked about it, but I thought it would take you time to come to terms with everything and…now. Now, I just feel like my entire world shifted. Like I can very clearly see our whole lives together. If that makes any sense.”

It does. I felt the same: as if before I was just imaging our life together, but now it is our reality. I’m taken aback that we both have that same feeling, but somehow I’m not completely surprised. We seem to truly mirror each other, and it’s an amazing feeling.

“I started out doing this for you, for us; however, I very quickly realized that this is the most amazing thing I’ll ever do for myself. I’ve learned so much about myself and my faith and how I want to live my life. It’s hard to put into words, but it feels like coming home. It’s a very similar feeling to what I have when I’m with you. It’s just so…right.”

He squeezes my hand tight and continues to hold it while he leans in and kisses me gently. I’ve never seen a couple sit next to each other in a restaurant like this. I promptly decide I will never sit across from him again. This position is quite convenient. “Babe, that’s so cool. I remember what it felt like when I first recommitted myself. It was indescribable, so I can imagine what you’re feeling.”

I take a deep breath to fortify myself for my next admission. “Michael, I have something else to tell you that may be quite shocking. I hope…I think that you like it, though.”

“Now who’s making who nervous,” he jokes.

I offer him a reassuring smile and squeeze his hand tight. “It’s nothing to be nervous over. I promise. I’ve been writing more,” I begin.

We relax our grip and he laces his fingers through mine. “That sounds like an excellent thing.” His thumb scratches across my palm, drawing my attention to our hands. My mouth goes dry at this seemingly innocuous movement. I lick my lips and refocus my gaze on him. He is staring at me knowingly. I shake my head a little at him and roll my eyes, trying to dispel my wayward thoughts. He clears his throat and takes a drink, and I can tell he’s trying to do the same. The server, thankfully, chooses that precise moment to deliver our food.