In All of Infinity

‘
IN ALL OF
INFINITY’

By: H. R. Holt

Copyright 2013 by H. R. Holt

Smashwords Edition

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of this author.

Dear Reader:

It is with heavy heart that I bestow this
book upon you, for its first draft was written when I was
twenty-three, and still learning the craft of novel writing. I was
younger then, and one knows how the heart can be when one is
younger.

I seek to obtain reviews for this book,
but—more than this—I hope that you are able to finish this book
feeling as though you gained something in unraveling the story put
forth. Most of what I write comes from my head, but this one comes
from the heart. After all, in all of infinity, what is greater than
love—without an adventurous fantasy thrown into the mix?

Enjoy!

♥
Prologue ♥

If guardian angels existed, there was not
one present at the death of Esme Reagan. The darkness crept along
the floors, walls, ceiling, and engulfed the furniture. Even the
lantern light was spawned from evil itself. Her husband, Emmanuel,
was the only person present, but darkness had already begun
devouring the sanctity of his soul.

He stood at her bedside, sweat dripping from
his brow. She was in pain and there was nothing he could do, but
let nature take its course. Although the best doctor in York
County, Virginia, he didn’t possess the technology to save her. No
one did. He felt useless.

She smiled, reached her hand to him. He sat
down and took her hand, administering a cool rag to her forehead.
Her smile widened because she knew he was trying to keep from
falling apart. She was proud of his strength.

“Do you remember when we met?” she asked
weakly. He kissed her hand, nearly choking when he realized how
cold it was. “It was only two years ago, wasn’t it? 1923? Oh, that
was the best year of my life. The very best…”

He held her hand tighter, watching as a
flash of pain passed through her eyes. If she could hold on until
morning, until daylight eradicated the darkness, she would be safe.
She couldn’t promise this, though, because it wasn’t her right. She
couldn’t promise him anything, but he loved her for trying.

“Manny,” she whispered. She looked into his
austere blue eyes. There was much unsaid as they gazed at one
another, both knowing they didn’t have time. “Manny, I’m
dying.”

His heart surged into his throat, realizing
she was right. He leaned close and kissed her forehead softly,
smelling the potency of her jasmine perfume and sweat. He felt
tension there as she succumbed to another flurry of pain, and kept
his lips there, trying to make it vanish.

“You won’t die. I won’t let you,” he
whispered and choked. “I love you.”

He rested his cheek against her forehead,
felt her fading breath on his neck. Teardrops that he’d fought the
entire night began escaping his eyes, and he let them fall because
he no longer had control. She was dying.

***

In July of 1923, almost as welcoming as the
sunlight, the aroma of her jasmine perfume drifted along the wind.
He remembered turning towards it, immediately enraptured by her
radiance. With long blonde hair and dark blue eyes, she was a
dream; and she found his auburn hair and pale blue eyes more
becoming than any man’s.

“Bride or groom?” she asked and sat with
him. She gestured towards the happy couple with a tilt of her
head.

She glanced over her shoulder, towards the
buxom brunette and her wiry, bespectacled spouse, watching them
dance. The bride’s head was on the groom’s shoulder, who was
resting his cheek on her head, whispering. Esme couldn’t keep a
smile from forming on her face.

Although she was present for the groom, who
was a colleague at the school where she worked, she had brought
them together so she was at the wedding as a friend for both. Esme
was responsible for the set up of the outside canopy, and for the
choice in music. She was pleased to finally be able to sit.

“Bride,” he answered.

Esme smiled thoughtfully at him. She felt as
if she’d met him before, but knew that was impossible. She’d just
moved to York County, running from a past that she wasn’t proud of,
and kept herself busy at work. The only people who knew her were
those she worked with, so she’d never met this man before.

“My name’s Esmeralda Navy,” she said and
extended her hand.

He nodded. “Emmanuel Reagan.”

He took her hand in his and they immediately
felt bolts of electricity charge through their veins. Although he
was indifferent until then, he felt as if he’d come to life at the
mere touch of her skin. He realized she was holding her hand over
her heart. He smiled, wanting to take her hands, hold them, and
kiss them.

“Pleasure to meet you, Manny,” she said and
took back her hand. They hadn’t shaken hands, merely held, but that
had been enough. “Is it ok if I call you that?”

He continued smiling. “Sure.” He didn’t care
what she called him, as long as she stayed near him; let him
breathe the very air she was breathing. “May I call you Esme?”

“Yes,” she said and felt a blush rise to her
cheeks. “I’d like that a lot. So, do you dance?”

“No,” he said. She looked at her hands in
her lap. “But I can be persuaded.”

She met his eyes and smiled again. They
became so caught up in each other’s presence that they didn’t hear
their names being called. When they separated, Fate herself began
planning another time for them to meet.

Although he was thirty-eight and she was ten
years his junior, they couldn’t avoid being attracted to each
other. He sought her out in every face and ray of sunlight, but
refrained from going any further. He delved into his work and
attempted to forget her, but he couldn’t. She tried the same, but
the end result equaled his. Only weeks after the initial meeting,
she asked about him and discovered he was a doctor. As a ploy, she
faked twisting her ankle and came as a patient.

“How did you do this again?” he asked with a
smile, watching as she bit her lip. “You were…playing tennis?”

She was amazed by how gentle he was as he
examined her ankle, and met his eyes with a smile. His heart
soared. He still couldn’t believe she was here, even though he’d
done more than a double take when he saw her waiting to see
him.

“I know it’s silly,” she said with a small
laugh, looking away. The laughter reminded him of dainty bells
because it was so soft and beautiful. “I stepped on the ball and
fell over it with my foot at a strange angle.”

“Do you play tennis often?” he asked and
attempted to calm his heart. “I’ve never heard this happen before.
It seems quite peculiar…”

Her eyes seemed to change hue as she glared
at him, enraged, but he also saw happiness in them. “What are you
insinuating?”

“You tell me,” he said and stepped back,
crossing his arms. He watched as she wiggled her foot into her
shoe, realizing how little pain she was undergoing. The smile on
his face widened. “Doesn’t that hurt in the slightest?”

She stopped and looked at him, blushing.
“Well, it was worth a shot.” She stood and met him eye-to-eye, then
stared down at her heels. She laced her fingers and began making a
circular motion with her thumbs. Although she was almost infantile
in her actions, he realized there was more to her. Finally, she
looked at him. “I wanted to meet you again.”

“Why?” he asked and pocketed his pen. “And
why go through such extreme measures? I mean, you could have called
me, met me somewhere for coffee...”

“Because I feel…drawn towards you…and I’ve
never felt inclined to pull myself closer to anyone in all my life.
A phone call would not—could not—be the same. I had to make sure I
wasn’t…intoxicated…when I began feeling this way…for a
stranger…”

He blinked. “You seem sincere.”

“I am.”

He put his clipboard under his arm and took
a few steps towards the door. Before he could turn the doorknob, he
felt overcome with a desire unlike any he’d ever felt. He looked
over his shoulder at her before turning completely.

“I feel the same,” he said at last.

She smiled and the light from the sole
window made her even more beautiful. There was something in the
back of his brain that told him that he’d felt the same since the
moment he met her. She was magical.

***

The months slipped by and they found
themselves happily married. They purchased a house in the country,
away from the demands of York County, of work, of people. Since
there was a decline in Victorian architecture after the war, they
were able to afford an elaborate five bedroom house of this design.
Although he didn’t like the house at first, she loved it and he
knew that was all that mattered. Her happiness.

They were settled in by the winter of 1924,
and sipped champagne through the night while they made love. When
they grew exhausted, they lay quietly on a bed drenched in sweat
from their passionate lovemaking, from desire’s nectar. He held her
close, feeling her warm body pressed against his, and kissed her
head.

“I love you,” she said and ran her hand
along his chest. She stretched her neck up and kissed his chin. “I
hope my baby is as handsome as you.”

“Handsome? I’m aiming for beautiful,” he
said and kissed her head. “I’m sure, no matter what, our baby will
be loved.” He realized she wasn’t speaking, and then heard a quite
sob escape her. “Esme, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just so happy,” she said with a heavy
sigh. “I never thought I’d find anyone I loved so much. I feel as
if this is a dream. I never want to wake up.”

“Well, if it is, and you do wake up, I
promise that I will find you. I’m never going to let you escape me.
You’re sworn to me for life.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said
and raised herself up, covering his mouth with hers.

The bed that had been their beginning in
this house, in this life together, would be her end. The promise
that he’d made was impossible to stand beside, because she was
escaping him. The God she worshipped was taking her from him, and
he, a man of science, couldn’t do anything to stop Him.

“I’ll never leave you. Not really,” she said
and ran her fingers through his hair. He lifted his head and looked
down at her. She smiled and held his head in her hands. “I wish we
had more time. There’s so much to say…do…” She stared across the
room, seeing only darkness. “We don’t have time. We’re never given
enough time.”

“You won’t die. I won’t let you,” he
repeated, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. He was a scholar,
yet he couldn’t find the words for how he was feeling. He felt
dimwitted.

“This—” a wave of pain surged through her.
He wrapped his arms around her and waited for the pain to subside.
“This...isn’t right…it’s not supposed to happen this way.”

He felt her body weaken, waited for her to
breathe again. She didn’t. He pulled away and looked at her. The
only sign that she was once alive was her warmth, slowly fading,
and the tears slipping from her eyes. He closed them with his
thumbs and kissed her mouth, wanting her to live.

“No. No!” He lifted her body from the bed
and cried, the smell of jasmine still embracing every inch of her,
still able to control him. With a rasping voice, he uttered a
final, “No.”

The only entity in the room was Death, who
would not speak back. Emmanuel looked around, wanting to hear her
delicate laughter in his ears. It would not. He searched for her
brilliance and found it fading, slipping away into the darkness.
With a shudder, he realized he was alone.

He had lost the love of his life and the
child within her womb. Fate had pulled their lives together by
strings and severed them, but she was far from over.