Ascent

by M. C. Zappitello

  How much like being married was all this? I wondered. With at least one significant difference, however. Only five more months. …

  "Why don't you?" I suggested. "I think I'd like to take my time getting up."

  "Okay," he replied. He kissed my hand once more, then released it. He leaned over to gently press his lips to mine, then got up.

  As he moved the cot back to the foot of the bed and headed for the bathroom, I watched him, noticing simple things: The strength with which he easily shifted the cot around to the foot of his bed. The easy grace and confidence evident in his movements. The way his hair was mussed from sleep. The affection with which he smiled at me as he noticed that I was watching him. And how he quietly closed the bathroom door.

  From there, I went on to ponder how caring and sweet he had been with me yesterday―even though he was worn out himself. But, then, he had always treated me that way. Even through all our difficulties, and near disasters (such as two days ago), he was quick to forgive―no matter how much pain or fear I caused him. In fact, he was more so with me than he was with himself. (As if he had even done anything that truly required forgiveness.) So much of the time he seemed to understand me better than I understood myself.

  And for some unfathomable reason, this uniquely endearing young man wanted to spend his life with me. Me.

  My whole being seemed to fill up with appreciation for him and a profound gratitude for his being in my life. A warmth flooded through me that I needed to convey to him.

  He was singing in the shower. (How I enjoyed hearing him sing!) I didn't want to interfere, so I waited, thinking that he would stop once the water was off. But the water went off and he kept on singing. So I gave it another few minutes, still loathe to interrupt.

  My eagerness to share with him finally won out. As I reached for him, opening myself entirely so he would experience it all, his voice fell silent. Shortly thereafter, the bathroom door opened. He was barefoot and beltless, and buttoning his shirt. He ran his fingers through his damp hair as he strode toward where I was still lying in bed.

  "Come," Will said, uncovering me and taking my hand. I wobbled a little as I stood up, still shaky from yesterday. He remedied that in his now customary way―by picking me up and carrying me. He sat on the small sofa under the window, placing me on his lap and wrapping me securely in his arms. "You asked for it."

  "It" was an absolute deluge of delightfully candid thought and feeling generated by his whole soul in response to mine. The combining of his consciousness with mine resulted in an awareness so expansive and rich, it literally took my breath away. The sensations were so warmly embracing, I felt as if I were melting into him.

  This was only the second time that we had joined in such a complete fashion, but I was able to discern much more than I had the first time. There was now a framework and an order to what I was perceiving within Will, and incredible detail, all of which provided me with an enlightened understanding of him and his inner workings.

  Oh, how I longed for it to never end! But it had to. For one thing, I could tell Will was rightly concerned about my physical state. I was still weak from the last several days, and this kind of communion with him―while indescribably marvelous―was energy consuming. So he gradually toned it down until we were back to the level we usually maintained.

  We sat quietly gathering ourselves for a time before either of us spoke.

  Wow, I, at length, summarized.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed.

  After a few minutes, he continued, "Well, shall we see if you can walk a straight line to the bathroom?" then helped me stand up. I managed, though not at a normal pace. And I was slower than I wanted to be in showering and all. It wasn't okay that I was in here and Will was out there. I wish you were in here with me.

  "I do, too. Only five months. Do you want to get married on the first of June?"

  If that’s the earliest we can do it. But I wonder if Gina could be persuaded to move it up to the end of May. You know, right after school is out. That sounds logical, doesn't it?

  "It does to me. But, then, I have ulterior motives. Do you think Gina might be more receptive if you convinced Mark, and he talked to her?"

  That's a good idea. Although Mark won't need any convincing, so that part will be easy. And I'm sure he'll be willing to approach Gina. I'll ask him when they get back.

  "Great. You know, there are some other things we need to discuss. And decide. We haven't talked about where we're going to live, having children, who's going to 'wear the pants' in the family . . . ."

  I knew he was baiting me. Well, if you want to wear dresses, I guess that's alright (no way!) but I'm not giving up my pants.

  "Not going to happen, Love. So, I guess we'll both keep the pants. But I would appreciate it very much if you would wear a dress from time to time. You have great legs, you know."

  I do now. Or, at least, I know you think so. Thank you. So, where are we going to live . . . .

  And we spent a very pleasant morning planning our future together.

  Also that morning, we discovered that something we had done the night before caused us to have the same dreams. We happened on the information when we talked about our sleep habits―whether or not we snored (we hadn't noticed it with each other, but the circumstances of our sleeping in each other's presence hadn’t been typical), which side of the bed we slept on, our nighttime routine, and so on. In the process, we got off on the subject of dreams, and found out that we had both dreamt the same set of vivid dreams the night before. We decided it would be interesting to investigate the phenomenon further, but at some later time. There were more important things to deal with first.

  For one thing, I had to come clean with his dad about all that had really happened two nights ago. One of the many things I had gleaned from our soul exchange (so to speak) of the morning was a greater trust in Dr. Stuart. And I realized more than ever that Will would never be entirely easy in his mind until I was completely honest with his dad. And for a valid purpose―so I could get the help I needed. We were both aware that I still had a ways to go to get me and my life put back together. And we both wanted that as soon as possible.

  Also, of course, a huge part of that now would be dealing with the loss of my parents and my brother, Luis. Ben was still in Mexico, trying to dig up anything he could to assist in the investigation of their presumed homicides. But, one way or another, he would be making his way back to the States soon. I knew through Will's memories that Ben felt an unshakable responsibility to account to me for the fact that he hadn't brought my family safely back to me. I couldn't say that I agreed with him. But if he needed to do it, I would help him.

  "Dad said he would be happy to meet with us after dinner tonight," Will advised as he put his cell phone away. We had been sitting in the kitchen after lunch when he asked for my approval to call his dad, who was back at work after the holiday.

  I sighed. "He's not going to be happy once we get into it." This was going to be another heavy duty meeting.

  "Don't underestimate him, Cassie. I seriously doubt that anything we tell him will be a surprise." He stood up and held his hand out to me.

  I reached for it and also got up. He drew me to him, his other hand reaching for my face. His fingers lifted my chin as he bent to place his lips against mine. For several glorious seconds, their passionate touch sent my heart racing and enticed my lips to reciprocate.

  Then we both knew it was time to stop. For now. But not forever.

  "Too soon for a walk?"

  I nodded. My body was still catching up, and I was already worn out. “Maybe later.”

  "How about a nap?"

  I nodded again.

  Will and I went into the family room where Melinda was busy channel surfing for something to watch. She gave up, and began searching through her family's extensive collection of movies.

  "Mind if we join you?" Will asked her, as he led me onto the sofa and pulled me into his arms. My favorite place to be.


  She answered without pausing in her quest. "I guess not. As long as there aren't too many PDA's," she stipulated

  "You are so kind," Will commented.

  Melinda stopped long enough to grin widely at him. "Yup." Then she went back to looking. "Here it is!" she rejoiced, and loaded her find into the DVD player.

  I closed my eyes and smiled, snuggling closer to Will. He kissed the top of my head, holding me tighter for a moment. "Sweet dreams," he whispered against my scalp. I sighed a sigh of contentment, and relaxed against him.

  I opened all my curtains and allowed myself to relax completely. It was so utterly comforting to be home. To finally be safe, and at peace.

  “Ah. There you are . . . .”

  Read an excerpt from the next

  book in the trilogy!

  Journey

  A Novel

  M. C. Zappitello

  Cassie, get behind me. And stay there. No matter what happens."I obeyed. But what was he doing? That man has a gun!

  "Promise me."

  What are you going to do?

  "Just trust me, okay?"

  I tried to read him, but I couldn't get in. A new shield? Or was I too scared to be able to focus? I peeked around his arm. The man was getting closer, only a few yards away now.

  "Cassie, please!"

  I gave in to the urgency of his voice. I promise.

  He let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you." He felt back with his left hand, making sure that I was squarely behind him while keeping his eyes fixed on the man’s advance. Then he straightened up to his full height, took a deep breath, and seemed to brace himself for something. What was he going to do? I tried again to sense him. I didn't get in, but I could discern that there was no new shield. It must be me. I had to calm down so I could focus. Breathe. Breathe.

  The man stopped a few feet in front of us. "I just want the girl," he explained almost casually.

  "You can't have her," Will responded calmly.

  There was a clicking kind of sound. I peeked once more to see that the man now had his gun cocked and was pointing it at Will.

  "Cassie, stay behind me."

  What was he doing?! I had to know. I slipped my fingers over the waistband of Will's pants in back, and secured my hands on his belt. He would know I was there without having to check. And touching him steadied me. I had to be steady―and focused. I had to read him to find out what he was thinking, what he was doing.

  "Don't be stupid, kid. She's not worth it." The man's voice was louder, and getting angry.

  "I'm not. And she most certainly is." Will's voice was quiet, and sure.

  Why does he have to love me so much? I questioned myself. Why can't he just walk away and be safe?

  Fear struck my heart, and a plea of "Help!" softly escaped my lips.

  An instantaneous calm settled over me, and through me. My mind reached inside Will, focusing clearly, cleanly, like a laser. A beam so fine, a light so bright and powerful, yet with particles so infinitesimally small, it could penetrate anything. I was in―feeling all that he was feeling and seeing all that he was seeing. It was as if I were looking through his eyes.

  The man was still pointing the gun at Will. But it didn't alarm him. He was composed, determined. The only concern in him was for me. I had to stay behind him. If I stayed behind him, we would both be alright. The only thing that scared him was the idea of losing me. And he was not going to allow that to happen.

  I had to help. But help with what? I had to discover what he was planning. I eased myself outward, expanding throughout his consciousness, exploring his thoughts. There it was . . . . What?!

  "It's your funeral," the man almost growled at Will.

  Will said nothing. He raised his right arm in front of him, the palm of his hand facing away from him. The man squeezed the trigger, and a small explosion erupted from the barrel of the gun . . . .

  .About the Author

  Born and raised in the Midwest,

  M. C. Zappitello has also lived in Europe

  and in the Rocky and Wasatch Mountains of the West.

  A counselor and teacher by profession,

  one of her dreams since youth has been to honor the

  human soul by creating literature that reflects

  its indomitable spirit and endless capacity for love.

  She loves people, pets, and plants,

  and enjoys a variety of hobbies

  and activities including vocal and instrumental music.

  www.mczappitello.com