by Keri Arthur
“I’ve called some nurses in, and we’ll get him into a wheelchair for you.” The doctor glanced at Trae. “If you’d like, you can bring the car around to the main doors.”
Trae nodded, touched my back lightly, then left.
“Will anyone question events?”
“There is a private cemetery and crematorium on the grounds, and it is not unusual for the families of residents to make use of the facilities, even if the death occurs during leave. We’ll have a small memorial service. There will be no questions about his death, trust me.”
I did trust him. Like Doc Macy, this man exuded a confidence and a warmth that made it almost impossible to do otherwise.
The nurses came in, and Dad was bundled into a wheelchair. He made no sound, but the pain of his injuries filled the air nevertheless. I had to bite my lip against the urge to tell them to stop, that they were hurting him.
Because everything was hurting him. Even the mere act of breathing.
Once he was settled in the chair and all his tubes and bags were sorted, I stepped forward and wrapped the comforter around his legs. He touched it lightly and his face lit up. “Ah, I remember when you made me this. Took you weeks.”
“Months,” I corrected. “You thought I was doing homework, but I was stitching this.”
He chuckled. “I remember being afraid to wash it.”
“My stitching isn’t that bad.”
“It is, my girl, it is.”
I grinned and bent down, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “I missed you.”
He touched my cheek lightly. “And I you. We are not designed to be solitary creatures, unfortunately.”
“No,” I agreed, and wondered how he’d found the strength to cope all these years. At least I’d had company, and a reason to keep on fighting. My dad only ever had a stubborn belief that we would return.
One of the nurses stepped behind the wheelchair and began rolling my dad toward the door. I walked beside him, my fingers lightly twined in his. As we rolled into the elevator, the trembling in his fingers grew. I knew it was excitement. The knowledge that he would soon be home and free to die as he’d wished. In the open, under the stars, so that the power of dawn would caress his body and guide him on to the afterworld.
And though the thought had tears flooding my eyes again, I could wish for nothing else. It was what he wanted, what he’d been holding on for. After all my years away from him, I could do nothing less than give him his last wishes in his final moments on this earth.
Doctor Jones held open the front door and the nurse wheeled him into the outside air. Dad raised his face to the sky then breathed deep. His pale skin seemed to flood with color and he sighed. It had to be hard for a man of sunshine and heat to be cooped up inside endlessly, unable to even raise a fingertip to the caress of day. It might not be as deadly as being restrained from water and wave was for me, but it couldn’t have been pleasant. And it was something he shouldn’t have had to face.
I bit my lip, and wished I could bite down the guilt as easily.
Trae climbed out of the car and opened the rear door. The doctor and two nurses struggled to get Dad into the car and comfortable. He didn’t complain. Just smiled his happy-to-be-free smile.
Once he was in and buckled up, Doc Jones came over and gave me his best “doctor” smile. “He should be comfortable for the next twelve hours.”
“We both know he won’t last twelve hours.”
“I didn’t think he’d last as long as he has. Your father is a man of amazing strength.”
“Yeah, he is.”
I shook the doctor’s hand, then climbed into the backseat beside my dad. I took his hand in mine, not saying anything—not needing to say anything. Touch was enough for now.
Trae drove us back to our house, but again parked in the trees—though closer to the house than before.
“What’s going on?” Dad said. “This isn’t our place.”
“One of the trees came down over the driveway,” I said. “We have to walk a bit.”
“Then take me straight to the beach, not the house. I want to feel the sun for a while. Let it heat my bones.”
I nodded and scrambled out of the car before he could hear the sob that careened up my throat. Trae caught my hand before I could move around the back of the car, and pulled me toward him. “You’re amazing,” he said softly, and dropped a sweet kiss on my lips.
I resisted the desire to melt into his arms and allow the warmth of him to chase away the ache in my heart. Dad had waited long enough for this, and even the few minutes a brief hug would have taken from him just wasn’t fair.
“I’ll get him out and carry him,” Trae said. “It’ll be easier. Can you carry the chair?”
He reached back into the car and popped the trunk, then moved around to Dad. I dragged the wheelchair out, hooking the awkward thing with my arms and carrying it in front of me.
I led the way through the trees, holding back branches and crushing aside bushes that got in the way. The wind had picked up, sighing through the pines and rustling the dying leaves of the various as-pen. The chill of night was already in the air, but it didn’t seem to matter to Dad. His smile grew the nearer we got to the water and the sunshine. When we finally broke free of the trees, he laughed. It was such a carefree, joyous sound, it brought a smile to my lips.
We walked along the sand until we neared the house, then I set up the chair. Trae placed Dad in it carefully, then attached the bags to their spots on either side of the arms.
“I’ll go check out that tree problem,” Trae said, as he stood. “You want me to collect anything to eat on the way back?”
“I’m not sure what’s in the house, but yeah, if you can find something.”
He kissed me again, soft and lingering, then left. I watched him walk up the beach and disappear into the trees, then returned my attention to my dad.
“You like that one, don’t you?” he said.
I smiled. “That one is a whole lot of trouble.”
“The good ones always are.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, once again allowing the sunlight to caress his skin. “Tell me about your mom, Desi. Tell me what happened.”
So I did. Everything I could remember, as well as some stuff that was more guesswork than fact. Trae came back about halfway through, handing me a cup of coffee and several crackers.
As the day ran into night, conversation faded. We sat in companionable silence and watched the stars grow bright in the sky. When the moon began its track across the night, Trae rose and retrieved a couple of blankets, wrapping one around my shoulders and the other around Dad’s. I flipped one end of the blanket open and he sat beside me, his presence keeping me warmer than any blanket ever could.
Doc Jones joined us sometime after midnight. He sat back in the trees, a witness to events but not a part of them.
Dad was still smiling when he passed away in the early hours of the morning. I continued to hold his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin gradually leaving his body. But the deeper burning—the fires of the dragon waiting for the dawn and the final journey—were still present.
The air began to hum with power long before the first vestiges of dawn began to crack the night. Energy flitted across my skin, little sparks of power that were very visible in the blackness that surrounded us. But the crazy tingling did little to ease the ache in my soul. I doubted anything could right now.
I studied the horizon, waiting, as the hum of power grew and intensified, and slivers of red and gold broke across the sky—bright flags of color that heralded the coming of day and the beginning of my dad’s last journey.
Even as the warmth of the coming day flooded through my body, breaking the chill of night, it caressed my dad’s body and stirred the waiting dragon to life. His skin grew warmer to the touch, beginning to glow with that inner heat. It forced me to release his hand, even though I didn’t want to.
The day grew brighter, my dad’s skin warmer, until it se
emed the sun itself burned under his flesh. Finally, the fires of the dragon broke free—gloriously, finally free—and reached skyward with exuberant fingers.
“May the Gods of sun and sky and air guide you on your journey, Dad,” I whispered, my eyes on the flaming brightness and my throat so constricted with tears I could barely speak the ritual words. “May you find the peace and happiness in the forever lands that you could not find in this.”
The streaming fingers of sunlight seemed to twirl and dance, as if in answer, and then they were gone, lost to the brightness of the coming day.
The radiance caressing my skin died, taking with it the underlying hum of energy. All that remained of my dad were a few ashes and the remaining scraps of a comforter that the wind snatched up and scattered.
He was gone. Forever.
I closed my eyes and let the grief flow free.
Chapter Twelve
I don’t know how long I cried. I just couldn’t seem to get my act together, and much of that was guilt. It was ridiculous to feel that way, I knew, because the past couldn’t be changed no matter how much I might wish otherwise. I’d done what I’d done. I’d left knowing Dad was ill, that the diabetes was getting worse. But in the foolishness of youth, I hadn’t figured it would be so hard to free my mom. Hadn’t counted on getting caught myself. I’d been too confident in what I was and what I could do to worry about such things as capture by the very people who held my mother.
Through all the tears, Trae was there. Holding me when I needed to be held, making love to me when I needed the intimacy, leaving me alone when I wanted to be alone. He fed me and looked after me, and was patient with me when my grief ran into the need to rant and rage.
But I couldn’t stay in that pit of despair and guilt forever, especially not when I still had promises that needed to be kept. Besides, the more I delayed, the longer Trae was away from his sister.
It was well after midnight several days after the memorial service at the hospital when I turned in the warm circle of Trae’s arms and said, “We should leave here tomorrow.”
He touched my cheek, running his finger down the length of it until he reached my lips, then lightly began to trace them with a fingertip. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
I nodded and stretched out languorously, so that my body was pressed more fully against his. “It’s probably best to swim to Scotland. Or fly, in your case. I wouldn’t put it past them to have someone watching the airports.” Or be paying one of the customs officers to keep an eye out for them.
“I could acquire you a new passport, if that’s your worry.”
His touch moved down my neck and across my right shoulder. Desire trembled through me, but I held still. That feather-light caress felt too good to move on to more intimate pursuits just yet.
“In this day and age, with all the massive security checks they have at airports, faking it is not worth it.”
“Faking it never is in the long run.” Amusement played around his lush mouth as his fingers drifted toward my breasts.
I arched my back a little and pressed into his hand. “And do you often fake it?”
He cupped one breast and flicked his thumb over the erect nipple, sending little arrows of pleasure shooting across the rest of me. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the night. “Never when it’s important.”
“And this is important?” I said softly. Emphatically.
“The most important thing in my life,” he said. “And not only for this moment.”
Then he kissed me.
It was a kiss that was deep and long, a kiss that explored and aroused. A kiss that spoke of emotions that had been hinted at, and talked around, but never actually said. They were there nevertheless, thick and real.
“The trouble with a moment,” I said when I could, my voice more than a little breathless, “is that it does only last a moment.”
“I think I should be offended by that comment.” His voice was dry. “I’ll have you know, my stamina is legendary. I’ve been known to last for hours.”
“Then prove it.”
He chuckled softly. “A challenge you may yet regret, my girl.”
“Not when you’re still talking rather than doing.”
He grinned and sat up on the bed, shaking free of the sheets and blankets. Then he picked up my right foot and began massaging my toes with warm fingers.
Frustrated amusement rolled through me. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
“Hush, and let the master work.”
I snorted. “You’re not my master.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’m the master of your seduction, and you will be putty in my hand by the time I’m finished. Now shut up and enjoy.”
I shut up as ordered and closed my eyes, enjoying the press of his fingers against my foot. Enjoying the warmth that flooded up my leg and across my torso. Enjoying the tingle of expectation as the minutes ticked by, and the desire—need—for him to move on grew.
Eventually, he did, paying similar attention to my calves, and then my thighs. I made a small sound of disappointment when he skipped the hot spot at the junction of my legs and moved up to my belly. He chuckled softly, but that disappointed sound moved into a sigh of contentment when he began to caress my breasts. But he moved on all too quickly, working his way up to my shoulders and down each arm, before finally—thankfully—he began his teasing, erotic journey back down my body to the one point he’d missed. Even before his fingers slid over my clit, I was shuddering with pleasure, but that softest of touches had me moaning. God, if he didn’t get on with it soon, I’d surely burst.
He kept up that teasing caress until I was squirming and pressing myself harder against his hand, wanting—needing—the orgasm that loomed so close. When he finally slipped two fingers inside me, I gasped and came undone, shuddering and groaning and thrusting into his touch.
When the shudders began to ease, he started again, this time with his tongue, savoring every glorious inch of me, until sweat sheened my body and every fiber vibrated with the need for release.
When his tongue slipped over my clitoris, I made a sound that was little more than a gargled half scream, and thrust up against him, so that his face was buried in the warm heat of me. And he licked and sucked and delved his tongue deep inside of me, until my body was afire and I was begging him to take me fully.
He finally relented and slid up my body, capturing my lips as he slid slowly, deeply inside. As my flesh enveloped him, a low groan of pleasure vibrated against the back of my throat. God, was there a greater sensation on this earth than the completeness of this one moment?
I began to move against him, but he held me still and continued to kiss me. Not urgently, not desperately, but slowly, passionately, like he had all the time in the world. I answered in kind, even though my body was trembling with the need for completion. I slid my hands up his back and around his neck. And I knew, in that moment, that we were one. Not just physically but spiritually, our souls entwined and eternally linked.
“Look at me,” he ordered softly.
I opened my eyes and gazed into his, and felt like I was falling into a bright ocean. Caught, once and for all—and forever.
He began to move then, slowly at first but gradually gaining in intensity, until he was thrusting deep and strong. And suddenly the control and the calm were gone, and our lovemaking became all passion and heat and intensity. All I could think about, all I wanted to think about, was this man and this moment. Pleasure spiraled so quickly my body was shaking with the force of it, and when my climax finally—gloriously—hit, the convulsions stole what little breath I had left and tore a strangled sound from my throat. He came a heartbeat later, his body slamming into mine, the force of it echoing through my being.
When I remembered how to breathe again, I took his face between my palms and kissed him long and slow. “That was amazing.”
He rolled to one side and gathered me in his arms. “I told you I
was a master of the art.”
I snuggled closer to his warm, sweaty body and breathed a sigh of contentment. “Would that be the art of bullshit you’re talking about?”
He chuckled softly and gently tucked a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear. “That would be my other specialty.”
“No doubt about that,” I murmured, and drifted off to sleep.
When I woke the following morning, I was alone in the bed, but the smell of cinnamon toast and coffee filled the air, making my stomach rumble.
I shoved the blankets aside and got out of bed. The day beyond the windows was bright, filled with blue sky and few clouds. But the way the spruces swayed suggested the wind was pretty fierce. And if it was coming straight off the sea, I had no doubt it would also be icy.
I grabbed my old terry bathrobe from a wardrobe still filled with all my clothes and pulled it on, doing up the sash as I clattered barefoot down the stairs.
“That smells good,” I said, as I entered the kitchen.
He looked over his shoulder and gave me a warm smile. “I should hope so. I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen for hours.” I raised an eyebrow, and his smile became a grin. “Well, a good ten minutes, at least.”
I stood on tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. “Mmmm, you taste better than the food smells.”
“As much as it pains me to admit it, you need food more than you need more of me at the moment. Here.”
I grabbed the plate and began to munch. It was as delicious as it smelled.
“I exchanged some cash after I rang my mom,” he said, dropping some dishes in the sink and washing them. A house-trained man who also could cook—you had to love that, I thought with an inner grin. “So we’ll have some usable money when we get over there.”
“Unfortunately, I lost my credit cards when the scientists snatched me in Scotland,” I said, around a mouthful of toast. “But I found a new ATM card when I was going through some of the mail.”
Which the Doc had given me after the small memorial service, along with a small bag of Dad’s possessions. Tears touched my eyes again, and I blinked them away. He was gone, but at least he’d gone the way he’d wanted to go. I’d given him that, if nothing else.