Rainfall

by Melissa Delport

  “Oh, Adam!” I breathe, walking further into the room. “It’s so beautiful!” I exclaim, turning to face him and my heart skips a beat when I see the look on his face. It is hungry and sexy and I feel my insides go weak. He advances slowly holding my gaze intensely. Taking my hand he raises it slowly to his lips then he heads for the bedroom pulling me behind him, his fingers entwined with mine.

  The bedroom is also filled with candles flickering on the bedside tables and the dresser. The room is pristine; there is no sign of the mayhem that I left behind this afternoon getting ready for the ceremony.

  “Do you want to take a bath?” Adam asks, his eyebrow raised, but I shake my head swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat and licking my suddenly dry lips.

  “No,” I shake my head at him, “I just want you.”

  Adam's eyes are liquid with desire and he needs no further invitation. Taking two strides he stands right in front of me and my body trembles in anticipation. Dropping a kiss on my shoulder, he puts both hands behind my back and slowly undoes my zipper. He hooks one finger under the thin strap of my dress and slides it slowly across my shoulder so that it falls down my arm, then he repeats the process on the other side. The hairs on my neck stand up and my legs feel unsteady. Slowly, he runs his hands down both of my arms, pulling the straps of my dress with him, so that the bodice peels off of me like a shedding skin. I am not wearing a bra and Adam draws in a deep, unsteady breath before exhaling. The air on my naked breasts sends a jolt of lust through my body and my nipples harden with desire. His hands at my waist give a gentle tug, then my dress is lying discarded and forgotten on the floor at my feet. Threading his fingers through mine he fastens first one and then the other hand behind my back, his hard torso pressing against mine and grazing my already over-sensitive breasts. I moan, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt as, leaning forward, I trace a lazy circle on his chest with my tongue, tasting the saltiness of his skin. Dropping my hands he cups my neck with his hands and lifts my face to his, kissing my mouth softly before opening my lips with his tongue and exploring my mouth more intimately than ever before. I put my arms around his neck, more for support than anything else, I am so dizzy with lust. The kiss deepens and a hungry moan emanates from Adam’s chest. I raise my hands and ease his jacket from his shoulders, dropping it to the ground. Adam's tongue is still exploring; his kisses slow and languorous; there will be no rushing tonight. Tonight we have all the time in the world.

  I undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt slowly forcing myself not to hurry, but my body feels like a ticking time bomb; it is taking a huge amount of willpower not to give in to the frantic desire that is beating between my legs and my whole body is trembling with anticipation. Eventually I ease off his white shirt and feast my eyes on his naked chest, his flat stomach and the fine, dark hair trailing downward below his belt. His hand cups my breasts and I feel a fire ignite deep in my belly. Taking hold of his leather belt I give a tug towards me and he raises one eyebrow challengingly. I undo his buckle and pull the belt and it slides around his waist, slithering like a snake to the floor. A moment later his pants follow and we are both naked. The heat that the candles are giving off has warmed the room and I see tiny beads of sweat forming on his bronze chest.

  I dip my head and kiss him right over his heart as he runs his fingers up and down my back, gooseflesh rising wherever he touches. I curl my lips around his nipple and bite down and Adam shudders. Feeling empowered, I bend my knees, kissing his chest, his flat stomach and burying my face in the soft hair below his navel.

  “Paige,” he warns, through clenched teeth, burying his hands in my hair. I ignore him, moving lower still and taking him in my mouth, kissing and sucking until he suddenly pulls me back, a pained expression on his face. “You seriously test my self-control love,” he admonishes and then lifts me in his arms and throws me down on the bed. “My turn,” he adds huskily, and before I can even grasp the meaning of this, his mouth comes down and his lips are at my breast. I arch up to meet him, his hot, wet tongue lapping and biting at my hypersensitive skin, leaving a blazing trail of heat that moves steadily lower, until I am squirming beneath him in desire. When he finally lowers his head between my legs I cry out, my hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets beneath me and my head rolling from side to side. It feels as though my whole body is on fire and I don’t know whether I can stand it. I grab Adam’s hair with one hand, pulling at him frantically.

  “Please, Adam!” I pant and then he is above me, a maniacal look on his beautiful face, and in one swift movement I feel him inside of me and I let out a moan of pure, unadulterated ecstasy before he is moving and I rise up to meet him, wondering if this is what heaven feels like.

  Chapter 32

  I can feel Adam’s hand running up and down my spine and I smile, without opening my eyes.

  “Good morning, Mrs Parker,” he murmurs in my ear and I open my eyes to smile at him.

  “I like the sound of that,” I grin and he smiles back at me. He lowers his head and kisses me and through the sheets I can feel his arousal.

  “How about round two?” he asks and I kiss him hard on the mouth.

  “I like the sound of that even more,” I answer, throwing my leg over his body and straddling him.

  It is almost lunch time when we finally venture down the cobbled pathway, bow-legged and starry-eyed, unable to keep our hands off one another even for a short period of time. Mrs O’Reilly makes us a full Irish breakfast, her round face filled with delight, while a knowing smirk plays around Mr O’Reilly’s lips that soon has me blushing.

  The rest of the weekend passes without incident, but it is not long before my secret rears its ugly head. On Sunday afternoon Mr O’Reilly has gone down to the store for supplies as instructed by Shannon and most of the guests had left shortly after lunch to make their way back home. Adam and I are sitting by a fire drinking red wine while Mrs O’Reilly regales us with stories of previous guests and weddings they have hosted. Mid-way through a particularly interesting story about a bride whose boyfriend turned up in the middle of her ceremony and challenged the groom to a fist-fight, I see the twitch out of the corner of my eye and my blood runs cold. Oblivious, Shannon is still speaking when the thunderous voice of Simon rings through the room.

  “Why are we still here, Paige!” he yells, standing and throwing the rest of Adam’s wine into a nearby pot-plant. I cast an anxious glance at his ring finger, feeling an enormous sense of relief that Adam has left his simple gold band in the cottage this afternoon. It was slightly loose and he was worried he might lose it. Simon seems to have the same train of thought and he narrows his eyes, bringing his hand up to examine it. Seemingly satisfied, he rounds on me, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

  “Well?” he asks, tapping his foot.

  I glance across at Shannon whose mouth is wide open in surprise, staring up at Simon in shock.

  “Simon, um, I'd like you to meet Shannon O’Reilly; she runs this establishment. Mrs O’Reilly, this is Simon Harris,” I make the introductions praying that Simon will be polite. Alas, Simon is no such thing and he ignores Shannon completely.

  “Why are we still here?” he demands. “I told you to take me back to Doctor Sheldon, but of course you have absolutely no respect for my wishes. Just goes to show the kind of person that you are,” the look that he gives me makes it glaringly obvious what he thinks of me and I flush in mortification as he continues, “at least now that we all know the truth we can get rid of that revolting hanger-on!” His dismissive attitude toward Adam infuriates me and I am on my feet in a flash, but before I can say a word, Mrs O’Reilly cuts across me.

  “Now you listen here sonny!” she roars and even Simon flinches, blinking at her in sudden alarm. “This is my house and ye’ll hold a civil tongue in your mouth or ye’ll be thrown out on yer arse!” she snaps and I beam with pride. I love how much more pronounced her accent becomes when she is angry and the look on Simon’s face is priceless.


  “I beg your pardon?” Simon draws himself up to his full height trying to regain the upper hand. Shannon waves her ever-present tea towel at him.

  “You heard me!” she shrieks and Simon takes a step backward.

  “You don’t understand, Madam.," he begins, obviously realising that he needs to seriously change his tactic if he intends getting Shannon on his side, “this woman has been lying to all of you! She's not who you think. She's keeping me a prisoner here against my will. That man that she's parading around in front of you doesn’t even exist, he’s merely a...” he trails off as he finally catches sight of Shannon’s face.

  “I know exactly what's going on here, young man,” she snaps and Simon’s confusion shows on his face. “Paige has told me all about you,” she continues, and Simon looks slightly mollified before her next words sink in, “and it appears you are just as pompous and irritating as she made out!”

  “I will not be spoken to like that,” Simon insists, “I want to speak to Doctor Sheldon,” he turns to me and the smile dies on my face. “Now!” he continues and I cringe. Doctor Sheldon had given me until this evening to get Simon back to the Institute or he would call the police. Reality asserts itself and comes crashing down around me. This is the ugly truth. Adam does not exist. The revolting man standing in front of me does, and as much as I have loved playing Cinderella, this is not a fairy tale. The fairy tale has to end. Tears prick at my eyes and I slowly nod my head.

  “I’ll get my phone,” I mumble, stumbling from the room, tears blurring my vision as I make my way down the mossy path wondering at just how far the earth has shifted since last night, when Adam and I walked this path together on the first night of what he believed would be the rest of our lives. I don’t hesitate; there is no time to dwell on it, I snatch my phone from where I had left it on the rumpled sheets and head straight back.

  “Just so you know, I do know that what I'm doing is wrong,” I say as I walk back into the guest house, ignoring Mrs O’Reilly’s frantic hiss of “Paige!” Determined to get it off my chest for once and for all, I continue, closing the door and staring down at the cell phone that is about to be my undoing. “I know and I intend to set things right. But you could never be half the man that Adam is...”

  “Paige!” I cannot ignore her this time and I lift my eyes to stare at her questioningly. She is standing behind the arm chair near the fire, pointing down at it, and, sitting there, looking confused and slightly afraid, is Adam.

  “Paige?” It is Adam’s voice this time and I freeze, my blood running cold in my veins.

  “Adam...” I trail off, replaying what I have just said. Mrs O’Reilly gives me a sympathetic, teary look, pursing her lips then, turning on her heel she flees into the kitchen her tea towel flapping in her wake.

  “Paige, what is going on?” Adam asks and I glance down at the phone. This is it; I am out of time. No more play-pretend, no more hiding from the truth. I pinch the bridge of my nose and then, closing my eyes, I press my fingers into my eye sockets almost painfully, determined that I will not cry. I will be strong. For once. For Adam.

  “Adam, we have to talk.”

  “That’s not possible!” Adam is almost yelling and I take his hand, squeezing it as tightly as I can.

  “It is, Adam,” I answer gently. He jerks his hand out of my grasp and gets to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of the fire.

  “Adam...” I begin, but he cuts me off almost immediately,

  “No, Paige! No! This is not okay! How could you not tell me about this? How long have you known?” I don’t answer him and he takes a few quick steps towards me, grabbing me by my shoulders and shaking me back and forth. “How long?” he yells and I flinch. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see the hurt and despair in his blue eyes.

  “Paige!” he howls and I bite down on my lip, shaking my head.

  “I’m so sorry, Adam,” I begin and he lets me go abruptly. When he speaks again he sounds only moderately calmer.

  “I remember so much. How can I remember so much if it’s not my life?”

  “Because you lived most of it,” I answer truthfully. “Simon must have withdrawn so far after the death of his parents that he was practically non-existent. He may have been around more often when you were children; it would explain how he spent so much time with Lizzy.”

  “Why would I not remember that?” Adam asks in obvious frustration.

  “We have no concept of time in our childhood, Adam. We measure it from one happy memory to the next.”

  “Or one unhappy memory to the next,” he muses and I remember that Adam’s childhood in the orphanage was hardly the stuff fairy tales are made of. I glance at the old grandfather clock in the hall; we have been talking for over an hour. Mr O’Reilly returned about half an hour ago but his wife quickly shepherded him from the room, casting an apologetic glance at us over her shoulder.

  “I don’t want to go,” Adam whispers catching my eye. “Please Paige, let’s stay here. Let’s live our lives, you and me, together, forever.” He looks so earnest that for a split second I am tempted to just throw myself into his arms and agree.

  “We can’t,” I shake my head. I'm starting to feel dizzy. “He won’t let us.”

  “He can go to hell!” Adam yells. “What right does he have to this life? He hasn’t earned it!” This is so close to the reasons I used myself to try and justify keeping Simon buried, but I know better now.

  “Adam, we have to give him his life back. We have to go back to Doctor Sheldon,” I pause, knowing that what I am about to say next will be the key to finally convincing him. A huge part of me wants to stay silent and let him convince me to stay, but deep down I know how wrong that would be.

  “Doctor Sheldon is going to report me to the authorities,” I begin hesitantly and Adam’s head jerks up, “he’s going to have me arrested for kidnapping. For holding Simon against his will.”

  “He wouldn’t do that,” Adam scoffs, “he’s our friend.”

  “He’s a doctor, Adam. He took an oath. He has an obligation to Simon. He’ll do it,” I add, resignedly.

  “Aaargh!” he roars, running his hands through his hair, not pausing in his relentless pacing.

  I get to my feet and walk straight up to him.

  “Stop,” I murmur, taking his arm and pulling him towards me, ‘please, just stop.” He surveys my face, his eyes darting from my hair, to my eyes, to my nose, my mouth and back again. Eventually he closes his eyes and pulls me against him, burying his face in my hair. Finally I cannot hold the tears back any longer and I let them fall freely, knowing what he is going to say even before he says it. After a long moment he finally pulls away, tears shining in his own eyes.

  “I can’t let you get into trouble, Paige. Not because of me,” he sighs in defeat. “We’ll go back. I’ll give him his life back.”

  Chapter 33

  The flight back to New York is a far cry from the flight that carried us to Ireland, full of life and possibility. Adam is subdued; he has barely said a word since our discussion yesterday and last night he barely touched me in bed, flinching away when his arm accidentally brushed my back.

  I cannot bring myself to say anything either; my heart is heavy and I know that if I open my mouth to speak I will not be able to stop the tears that are threatening to flow. I twist my wedding ring around and around on my finger, my mind filled with every memory I have of the two of us. I cannot believe that it has come to this; that our journey is coming to an end. Along with the despair, a cold, black hatred of Simon Harris is festering inside of me. This is his fault; all his fault. I would rather he die than inhabit the body that I worship with my entire being.

  “Paige,” Adam’s croaky whisper in my ear brings me to the present with a start. He clears his throat and his eyes look bruised they are so black underneath. I realise that neither of us managed to get a wink of sleep last night. We just lay, back to back in the enormous bed, each lost in our own inner turmoil; in too much pain to e
ven turn to the other for comfort.

  “Yes?” I ask, my own voice sounding hoarse with the lack of use over the past 24 hours.

  “I just...” he trails off, gazing towards the front of the plane. “Never mind,” he shakes his head and settles back in his seat, determinedly turning his head away, as though the very sight of me is too much for him to bear. I swallow down the lump in my throat and gaze out of the window at the clouds, wanting and wishing for something that can never be.

  Carl meets us at the airport a grim expression on his kind face.

  “Adam. Paige,” he nods at each of us in turn and then relieves me of my suitcase, walking briskly out of the automated doors and to the car without once glancing back. I follow meekly behind Adam, feeling my anger at Simon stretching, spreading out like an elastic band to engulf Carl Sheldon, who is also in on it, who wants to kill the man I love.

  I am so lost in thought that it takes a moment to register that we are not headed for the apartment. I take in the familiar scenery and a jolt of panic courses through my body as I realise that we are heading straight for the Institute. Not now! Not so soon!

  “Carl, please!” I lean forward between the two front seats, pleading. It suddenly occurs to me that there is so much left unsaid. Adam and I have wasted so much time last night on the plane; it can’t end like this. “Please, can we do this tomorrow?”

  Carl doesn’t take his eyes off the road and when he speaks he sounds tired.

  “Paige, what’s the point?”

  “You said yourself that Adam has lived with his disorder his whole life; what's one more day?” I almost yell, in the confined space of the car. “Doesn’t the same apply to Simon?” I am desperate. I have to convince him!

  “Paige,” he sighs, “you're only hurting yourself.” He shakes his head sadly but he has not said no and I cling to this tiny shred of hope.

  “Lizzy!” I breathe, and he finally turns to glance at me, confusion etched on his face. “Lizzy should be there when Simon comes around,” I turn to Adam looking for support, but he is staring at his feet, his face a mask of acceptance and despair. I take a breath, “She needs to be there, Carl. She's Simon’s Paige. You know that I’m right.” That is all I can do. I have played my last card. Praying fervently that it is enough, I force myself to sit back on my seat and let Carl make up his mind.