by Lily Velden
“Why are you still fighting? You always tell me and Jared to hug and make up.”
“Yeah, I do, and I really wish your dad and I could make up too.”
“I miss you.” Another little sob tore at my heart.
“I miss you too, little man. I love you. Never forget that. But right now I need you to be a big boy for your mom and be happy. Santa will have brought you lots of presents, and I want you to have fun today opening and playing with them. Even though I’m not there in person, I am there with you guys in my thoughts. Okay? Think you can do that for me?”
“I’ll try.”
I could hear Miranda whispering something in the background.
“Mommy says I have to go now and give Jared a turn. Bye, Uncle Noah.”
“Bye, Hurricane. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I only had to wait a moment before Jared’s equally sweet and loved voice filtered through my phone.
“Uncle Noah?”
“Hey, little man. Merry Christmas.”
“Ricky and I think you and Dad are being stupid.”
I smiled, despite myself. Jared always had been the cheekier, more forward of the twins. I should have known he’d come out with something blunt and challenging.
“Ricky’s and my fights never last this long. Not even when we fight over whose turn it is to be the train driver.”
My smile deepened—as odd as it was, it was reassuring that some things remained the same. It would seem the boys still had issues over sharing.
“Adults can be stubborn and silly too, I’m afraid.”
“Are you going to make up soon?”
“I hope so, little man. I truly hope so. In the meantime, just remember, I love you, and I want you to be happy and good for your mom.”
“Okay. Mom says I have to say good-bye now, ’cause Dad’s going to wake up any minute, and this has to be our secret.”
“Make sure you and Ricky keep the secret. Okay? We don’t want your mom in trouble.”
“Okay,” he repeated, and I smiled to hear a note of impatience in his tone. Of course, he’d huff at my having unnecessarily reminded him of the importance of keeping the secret. At times I felt as if Jared was six going on sixteen.
“Here, Mom.”
A faint rustling met my ears.
“Hey, Miranda.”
“Hey, Noah. I so wish you were here. It doesn’t feel like Christmas without you.”
“I wish I was there too. I miss you all so much.” I wanted to say more, but I was afraid if I did, I’d lose it and break down. If I succumbed, I knew it wouldn’t take long for Miranda to follow suit, and how would she explain that to Mitch?
“I have to be quick, because I can hear Mitch stirring, but I’ve set up a new e-mail address for myself that I haven’t told Mitch about.” Her voice was a rapid whisper, and I had to press the phone to my ear to catch all her words. “I’ll e-mail you so you have it. You can keep in contact with me and the boys that way. Okay?”
“Thank you. Thank you for doing this for me.”
“I’m doing it for me and the boys too. We all still love you. Including Mitch, even if he is too stubborn to admit he’s done something wrong. I have to go now, Noah. Merry Christmas, and I’ll e-mail soon.”
Silence followed her words, and I wanted to call her back so badly I had to drop my cell in my lap to stop myself. I wished I’d voiced my gratitude to her more eloquently. A simple “thank you” seemed inadequate. I closed my eyes and tried to swallow the lump in my throat—the longing to be with my family was almost too much to bear.
I WAS sitting at my dining table, lost in my thoughts, when the sound of a firm knock on the front door caught me by surprise. My upper body jerked involuntarily, twisting in the direction of the sound, causing my coffee to spill over the rim of the cup and onto the table. Silently I cursed my clumsiness.
I glanced at my watch—nine fifteen. Still rather early. I wasn’t expecting Robert to show up for at least another hour.
“Coming,” I called out.
In contradiction to my words, I headed instead into the kitchen and fetched a cloth to mop up my mess.
I paused in the task of wiping up the mess, frowning—my hand was shaking.
It had been twenty-four hours since Robert had declared himself, and I still didn’t know what I was going to do. I was jittery with nerves. I didn’t want to lead him on and give him false hope, and yet I couldn’t find the words that would send him out of my life forever either. The thought of him never coming back was as crippling as ever.
Unable to procrastinate any longer, I tossed the cloth into the sink and walked up the hall to the front door. Gingerly, I placed my hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath.
“Fuck, dude. What took you so long?”
I stared, stupefied at the young delivery man standing on my stoop, shivering and stomping his feet to keep warm. I looked over his shoulder, searching the street for any sign of Robert.
I didn’t find one.
My heart fell into my stomach, and my eyes stung with the need to cry. Disappointment sucked the air from my lungs.
“Here. This is for you.”
The youth unzipped his fleece-lined jacket and pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift, then shoved it toward me. I responded automatically and accepted it.
“I’ll go get you a tip,” I told him dully, beginning to turn away.
“Nah, man, it’s cool. The English dude already tipped me. Merry Christmas.”
My response was automatic. “Merry Christmas.”
With those words, he turned and loped down the path without a backward glance. I watched him go, unable to move. I looked down at the gift in my hands, and then I once again searched the street for Robert. Why hadn’t he delivered the present himself? Had he already changed his mind?
I shivered—not just from the cold, but in fear of the possible meaning behind his gift being delivered by a stranger rather than in person. Reluctantly, I acknowledged to myself my level of disappointment.
The frozen air seared my lungs as I drew in a deep breath, its burn finally freeing me enough to close the door and head back the way I’d come.
I took a seat on the couch, placed the parcel on my lap, and stared at it for a long time. It was about ten by fifteen inches and maybe two inches thick, wrapped in heavy bronze-colored paper. Its weight was minimal. Wide satin ribbon in a lush shade of cream crisscrossed its front, ending in an elaborate bow. Oddly, two cards, one on top of the other, were attached. The smaller of the two cards had the words, “Read me first, please,” scrawled across it in Robert’s neat calligraphic script.
My pulse raced, and my hands shook, but I did as he asked and opened the smaller envelope. The front of the card was plain white, with only a set of bells embossed in gold at the upper corner.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the card and scanned Robert’s words.
Noah, my love,
I’m going to ask you to do the opposite of polite and open the gift first.
Then, please read my letter.
Yours, now and always,
Robert.
I swallowed nervously, feeling more than a little nauseous. With clumsy fingers, I removed the second card and placed it by my side. Next I untied the ribbon and set it beside me as well. Carefully, so as not to tear the paper, I eased the tape securing it free. For reasons I didn’t want to delve into, I didn’t want to damage the wrapping in any way. I laid it on the couch on the other side before turning my attention to the box. It, too, joined the paper and ribbon. I studiously avoided looking at what the frame contained while I organized myself.
Finally, using both hands, I raised the frame to eye level in front of me. The background was made from three equal horizontal panels of distressed timber, upon which the artist had attached a rope made from natural fiber. In the center the rope had been tied in on itself to form a Celtic heart knot. Both ends of the rope as they neared the edge of the frame had
had the three strands forming it separated and straightened. The central thread continued straight across, the two outer ones forming a V. The work was simple, elegant, and understated. Beautiful.
I continued to study it, reluctant to put it down. My only regret was its protective glass shield prevented me from touching the rope.
After laying it gently on my lap, I reached for Robert’s letter.
Noah, my love,
Forgive me, I’m no artist, but I wanted to make you something that came from my heart. Something that spoke of my feelings for you, and how I see us.
I placed the letter beside me, swallowing as I picked the artwork back up to study it more closely, my new knowledge lending it even more beauty. Robert had made it. He’d made it for me. A small frisson of pure joy shot through my veins. I hugged the frame to my chest and closed my eyes to stem the flow of tears threatening to fall.
When I finally had myself under control, I replaced it on my lap and resumed reading.
I see us: you, me, and the love we bear each other, as being like a length of rope.
Each strand is strong in its own right, but when twined around each other, their strength is not just added, it’s multiplied.
That’s us, Noah. You and me.
Apart, we’re strong. We’re capable. We can survive most things. But together… together we’re something special. Something strong and lasting and true.
I don’t give my love easily. Hell, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t sure such a thing even existed. I haven’t seen a lot of it in my life. And yet I think I was already half in love with you before we ever met face-to-face. I can’t tell you the number of times I looked at your photos and imagined kissing you. And how many times I steered the conversation around to you at SAIC or at your brother’s just so I could learn more about you.
Your smile has always reminded me of a ray of sunshine.
I closed my eyes. Sunshine. To Robert my smile was like sunshine. His nickname for me had always had meaning. I just hadn’t known it. My pulse quickened at the knowledge. And hope—sweet, tentative hope—blossomed.
And yet, during our summer together, I fought my feelings for you. I couldn’t allow myself to admit how much you’d come to mean to me. I clung to the past, to my fears.
I know I was a coward and a fool. I know I was blind. And I know it took me far too long to realize all this, and in doing so, I hurt you. That knowledge is something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life.
Give me a chance to make amends, Noah. Give me the chance to prove that, now given, my heart belongs to you alone.
I arranged for this to be delivered at nine. At ten I will be on the sidewalk outside your home, waiting.
I’m willing to wait forever.
Yours, if you’ll have me,
Robert
Robert’s words were too good to be true. They were everything I wanted to hear and more. So much more. I pinched my hip to make sure I was truly awake. It would kill me if it had all been a dream.
I was awake.
It was real.
It was all real. His gift. His message. All real.
Hope and love and relief blossomed in my gut, radiating out to fill my every cell.
Slowly, savoring each and every word, I read over his declaration of love again, his words of commitment to me.
Tears welled in my eyes. He loved me. He truly loved me.
I picked up his gift, admiring it as I reread for the third time its meaning.
He was right: we were like the rope. Apart we were strong, but together we were something special. Something unique.
I looked down at my watch: ten thirty. Where the hell had more than an hour gone? An anguished cry escaped me as I leaped up from the couch and raced for the front door.
It was snowing. What if he’d given up? What if he hadn’t and now had hypothermia? What if he thought my answer was no? That I didn’t love him? Jesus Christ, I had to let him know I loved him. Now and forever.
I threw open the door.
A sob of relief gurgled out of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but they were tears of joy. He was there at my front gate. Just as he’d said he would be. He loved me. He was waiting for me.
Snow clung to his hair and dusted the shoulders of his overcoat. His nose and cheeks were pink with cold. To me he’d never looked more handsome. Nor had he ever been a more welcome sight.
He had his hands in his pockets, his gaze on my front door, on me.
A look of tremulous hope spread over his face. It was like watching the sun break through clouds.
He raised his eyebrows in silent query, and at my enthusiastic nod, he stepped forward and opened his arms to me.
I ran.
The cold sliced through my PJs. I barely noticed.
My socks were soaked and frozen within a second. I didn’t care.
I ran toward Robert. I ran toward love.
And my love met me halfway.
“Noah, sunshine—”
I silenced him with a kiss. At first he tried to talk around my needy, pressing lips, but at the first parting of his, I took advantage and slipped my tongue in, moaning when I felt him surrender and meld himself to me. The kiss went on and on, our mouths moving languorously against each other in their dance of recognition.
In that moment I had an epiphany. I’d been fooling myself thinking my love for Robert was something that would dissipate with time. How could it when I’d do just about anything for something as simple as one of his kisses?
And then my feet left the ground, and I clung to Robert as he swung me up into his arms. I shuddered, not from the cold, but from an awareness of the strength of his arms and the firmness of his chest.
He wrested his lips from mine and smiled down at me with such tender adoration my breath caught in my throat. His gaze turned teasing in the way I loved so much, warming the brown of his eyes to a deep burnt caramel.
“I said I’d wait forever, love. You could have taken the time to get dressed! Or is this your way of getting me to carry you over the threshold?”
I smiled up at him. “Maybe.”
About the Author
LILY VELDEN lives on the east coast of Australia, her family having emigrated from Holland when she was a child.
She’s both a left and right brain person, holding qualifications in both Finance and Fine Arts. She tells her friends that her way with numbers will make her a profitable artist… one day.
Lily has always had a love of language and a beautifully crafted sentence, often incorporating text into her artworks. When a shoulder injury slowed down her art practice, she decided to explore her love of the written word more fully. “I’ll paint my pictures with words.” All artworks described in her stories are her own.
Lily is a single mum to three little treasures who aren’t so little anymore and, when money was scarce she wrote and illustrated short stories for them, casting them as the central characters. The children enjoyed them so much that her daughter still calls her Meha instead of Mum, after one of the characters she created for them.
There are many things Lily loves; here are just a few: the smell of freshly baked goods and mown grass, a smile from a stranger, rainbows after the rain, and witnessing a promise kept.
Find Lily at her website: http://www.lilyvelden.com, on Twitter: @LilyVelden, on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lily.velden, or e-mail her [email protected].
How the Light Gets In from LILY VELDEN
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
How the Light Gets In from LILY VELDEN
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from LILY VELDEN
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
A
lso from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Also from DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com