"Jesus! I thought Cole lived there.... He's so... Spartan
"Bullshit! My brother is probably the most romantic man, next to you, that I know. Who do you think bought all that stuff? He said the oil is scented with honeysuckle."
Adam ground the gears of the car. "Show me the way home, honey!"
"Just follow the yellow brick road, right back to the parking garage." She leered at Adam, who leered back.
Sawyer threw her overnight bag on a wide sofa. She tossed her light coat after it. Her shoes sailed across the room. The overnight bag zipped open, the sound loud in the quiet room. She marched across the room to the stereo unit. It took her all of three seconds to make her selection. Soft, romantic music filled the air. She backed away slowly, beckoning Adam with her finger. Mesmerized, Adam followed her to the bathroom. Never taking her eyes off him, Sawyer bent over to turn on the tap. She pointed to the vanity. "The oil is in there."
"In there, uh huh. Right. I'll ... get it." But he didn't move. Suddenly Sawyer was like a whirling dervish, her eyes dancing wickedly as she ripped off her clothes. Seconds later she stood before him, warm and satiny, her face alive and beautiful with anticipation. "Need some help?" She grinned.
"Hell no! Yes . .. maybe .. . Get the goddamn oil!" Sawyer danced over to the vanity and withdrew a bottle of oil. She held it aloft, her eyes twinkling. She watched in delight as Adam stripped off his clothes. His mouth dropped open when Sawyer poured lavishly into the palm of her hand. She rubbed both her hands together till the oil was warm. Slowly she started to rub it on Adam's shoulders, back, and arms. Her
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gaze was sleepy and warm as she moved downward. Adam's gasp made her draw in her breath. Her touch became gentle and sensuous as she worked magic with her fingertips. Adam groaned when she poured the sweet-scented oil into his hands. His hands trembled, then steadied, as he stroked Sawyer's satiny body. His eyes searched hers to see if he was pleasing her with his gentle touches.
"Enough," she whispered. "Playtime!" He lifted her slippery body into the tub and then jumped in beside her. All twelve jets surged to life. For an hour they frolicked, they splashed, they kissed, they touched, and they explored each other's bodies in the warm, swirling wetness.
"Bubbles! We need bubbles!" Adam cried.
"You want bubbles, I'll give you bubbles!" Sawyer laughed as she upended a decanter of bubble bath. Instant bubbles of every size spiraled upward and over the edge of the tub.
"You put too much in," Adam laughed excitedly.
"I know. I always wanted to do that! Where are you, Adam?"
"Here! You better shut this thing off or these damn bubbles are going to go all over the apartment."
"I can't find the knob! Adam, I can't find it! We've been moving around so much, I don't know which side I'm on. I can't see anything," Sawyer gurgled.
"Find the edge of the tub and crawl out!" Adam shouted.
"I'm out, but I can't see anything."
"I can't either. Get down on the floor and crawl to the door. Try and find the door!"
Five minutes later they were both in the master bedroom. Both of them were covered from head to toe with bubbles. "It's like a damn monster; they're coming out here!"
Sawyer couldn't stop laughing. "Shut the door! Shut the door! There's a switch out here to turn it off. Safety reasons or something."
"Or something," Adam groaned. "I'll say one thing for you, Sawyer; you do know how to seduce a guy!"
"Oh yeah? Well, you ain't seen nothing yet! C'mere," she whispered huskily. "See that bed over there? That's where I want to be."
"Me, too. I feel like I've been caught in an oil slick," Adam laughed.
"Oh shit, I forgot the silk sheets," Sawyer grumbled.
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"I don't need silk sheets. Do you need silk sheets?" He reached for her, drawing her close.
Sawyer's heart was tripping beneath her breast. Every sense was tuned to Adam, to his every touch and action. Some of her girlhood passion and excitement was stirring, blending with the patience and maturity of a woman. When he moved closer, she melted into his embrace, holding him close, the full length of her body pressed against him, her lips finding the hollow at his neck and nuzzling in the crisp hairs of his chest. She reveled in the scent of him, clean and faintly soapy, but she was sharply aware of the deeper male scent beneath. His hands were in her hair, stroking. His lips were tracing little concentric circles near her temples. It felt so good to be held this way, close against him, almost a part of him. And his tenderness was unhurried. He would woo her, court her, and only when she wished it would he take her. He was kissing her sweetly, gently, the way she wanted to be kissed. He was her master, her teacher and guide, and his only concern was for her pleasure. He was touching her gently, as though she were a delicate flower that would bruise and wither with an indiscriminate touch.
The kisses that he was tracing along her neck sent delicious little quivers down her spine. The hunger in his voice when she touched the tip of her tongue to the base of his throat echoed within her. Expectation plucked at her nerve endings and heated her blood.
As her hands caressed the smooth of his back, those muscles and planes became familiar and intriguing. Her pelvis undulated in a dance, pressing against his stomach and loins with a hungry need of its own. Although the room was dimmed, curtained and shaded against the night, her mind's eye saw him clearly, knowing his body. This was Adam, her soon-to-be husband, the man who would share all of her tomorrows.
His possession of her was tender, sweet and unhurried. A new beginning. Sawyer felt her tenseness melt away, leaving her clean and pink and fresh. She turned her face into the palm of his hand, breathing the scent of herself mingled with his own, feeling the tips of his fingers softly touch her lips.
"My own sweet Sawyer," he whispered, pulling her downward to meet his kiss. It was then, when she felt the moistness on her cheeks, that she realized she was crying. Her tears mingled with his, and the hungry fulfillment of their bodies was secondary to the needs of their hearts. Overwhelming emotions engulfed her, drawing her body closer to his in an
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effort to touch his soul. Was it to be? Was she at last a part of Adam? Yes, her heart cried joyfully.
She heard her name upon his lips, saw the expression of love in his eyes. Her inner being reached out with long, tender fingers, groping through years of denial and darkness to find him. Her soul seemed to feel him close, so close, closer than a breath away. She lay weeping in his arms, joyful tears of love. As Sawyer drifted off to sleep in Adam's arms, she murmured, "We have all our tomorrows ahead of us."
"Hmmmn," Adam agreed.
{{{HUH CHAPTER })}}})}}} TWENTY-SEVEN ,nnnn
Cary Assante took a last look around the apartment. Every-thing was packed, the furniture covered. Maybe someday he'd sublet it, but for now he didn't even want to think that far ahead. He would dive into work. He'd get the refinery operational and move on to his memorial to Amelia, a lifetime of work. His work—to plan and build a perpetual tribute to his wife. A house had been rented, not far from Maggie and Rand's. Maggie promised a housekeeper when he arrived.
The only thing he had to do was lock the door and call Billie from the airport.
Outside in the brisk air Cary noticed for the first time that the trees were dressed for autumn, Amelia's favorite time of the year. He was leaving autumn behind him now but he'd be back for the next one. Warm trade winds, blue skies, and warm water would be the call of the day this year.
His good-bye to Billie and Thad in Vermont was brief but warm. "I'll keep in touch," he promised.
Billie broke the connection and called Julie at her office. "Please, Julie, stop by on your lunch hour or on your way home from work." Thad nodded complacently. He was still nodding when she dialed a second time. "Maggie, darling, I have a favor to ask of you. Do you think you could find a rental house that's close, but not too close, to Cary's?"
"Of course, and I'm not even
going to ask why."
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"I always said you were the wisest of the lot. I'll talk with you later."
Julie sat at the kitchen table with Thad and Billie, sipping coffee. Billie excused herself and returned a few moments later with a parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. "For me? It isn't my birthday. What is it?"
Billie's eyes filled. Thad looked away. "It isn't from Thad or me. It's for you and it's from Amelia. She said I would know when the time was right to give it to you. This is the right time."
Julie's hands trembled so that she could barely untie the string. Thad clipped it with the paring knife.
"Cary gave that to Amelia years and years ago. I think she loved it more than anything in the world. More even than the pearls she gave you at Christmastime. You do understand about the pearls, don't you?"
"I never understood why she would want me, someone who was almost a stranger, to have something that was her mother's."
"She wanted them to stay in the family."
"But that would mean .. . she knew..." Billie nodded.
"Does Cary know that she knew?" Julie asked in a hushed voice.
"I'm not sure, and I don't think it matters now. What matters is what Amelia wanted, and she wanted you to have this." Julie had unwrapped the sundial. "Cary will understand why it was given to you. Grow old along with me. The best is yet to be. Please don't cry, Julie. It's Amelia's legacy to you and to Cary. She didn't know how else to say she approved without saying the words outright."
"This is for you, Julie," Thad said, holding out a white envelope.
"What is it?"
"A ticket to Hawaii on the seven a.m. flight tomorrow."
"My job .. .
"We'll take care of things from this end. When you get to Hawaii, go to Maggie's."
"Maybe it's too soon. Maybe Cary—"
"Cary needs a friend. Be that friend. The rest will fall into place. You better get home now and pack. Thad will take you to the airport tomorrow and close up your apartment."
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"Aunt Billie, are you sure this is what Amelia—" "It's what she wanted," Thad said gently.
Julie walked along the beach, enjoying the early-morning sunrise. Her heart fluttered when she noticed Cary sitting on the sand, staring out at the ocean. "Hi," she said softly.
"Julie!"
"I was sort of in the neighborhood. Would you like to walk back with me? I made coffee. I'm staying about a quarter of a mile down the beach," she said breathlessly, praying he wouldn't refuse her request.
"Sure; why not?" Cary said flatly.
"How's it going?" she asked gently.
"Good some days, bad other days. Why didn't you take my call after we got back?" The tone of anger in his voice surprised him.
"Because Billie told me about Amelia's heart attack. I thought you and I. .. that you just... that you were hurt and angry with Amelia and I was someone who was handy. I didn't think I could bear to hear the guilt in your voice. I thought my heart would break," she said honestly, the hint of a sob in her voice.
"I don't feel anything, Julie. I try. I get up, I do what I have to do, but I don't fee I anything."
"That's normal. I know you don't want to hear this, but time has a way of healing grief. Billie said that to me. It was Thad who bought my ticket to come here. I have a lead on a job I'm to see about tomorrow, and Maggie rented a house for me. I'm all set. I think what I'm trying to say is I'd like to be a friend if you'll let me." She waited for a response. When Cary didn't comment, she turned to walk back up the beach; Cary fell into step beside her.
"Nice little place you have here. Let's have our coffee outside."
"Would you like some toast?" Julie called from the kitchen. When he didn't answer she decided to make it anyway. She stopped in the doorway with the tray in her hands to watch Cary. He was holding the sundial, staring at it intently. The screen door slammed behind Julie, jarring the moment.
"Where did you get this?" Cary asked hoarsely.
"From Amelia. She gave it to Billie to give to me. Billie said when you saw it, you'd understand."
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Cary's grief exploded like a bomb. When it was over he lay back in the lounge chair. "I can't believe she knew. She never once—"
"Billie told me Amelia felt you and I were meant for one another, and she would like to see us together after she was gone. I don't know if that was right or wrong of her; I can only tell you what Billie told me. The pearls were to stay in the family, and the sundial was to let you know you have to get on with your life. There's no need for you to feel pressured. You'll make decisions when the time is right. Amelia ... Amelia tried her best to make it right... for all of us," Julie said in a shaking voice.
Cary stared out at the blue jewel of the Pacific. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, friend, I'll buy you a cup of coffee; yours is lousy." His voice was light, almost breezy, when he reached for Julie's hand.
Their beginning.
By day Cary worked at the building site of the refinery. He wasn't exactly a hands-on carpenter or builder this time around, but more of a supervisor who shouted words impatiently to men he considered slow workers. It took him a full week to realize that no amount of shouting and bellowing would change things. Warm sunshine and bright smiles and affirmative head shakes finally made him smile, too. He learned to relax and let his men work at their own pace. He hired a local foreman who claimed unabashedly to know more than Cary had ever known. He made his statement with laughing eyes and a show of pearl-white teeth. Cary was free to tour the island, take Julie to lunch, meet Maggie and Rand for coffee, visit their house, and swim with Chesney, who was family now.
Evenings were his own, and he made up his own schedule. Every other day he took a long walk after dinner, stopping to see Julie on the way home. It wasn't until the third or fourth visit to Julie's little house that she hesitantly and shyly made a suggestion. Cary's eyes widened in shock that this lovely woman could be so in tune to his thoughts.
"What did I say wrong, Cary? Is it too soon to think about building a memorial to Amelia? Or isn't it a good idea? I could help you. I could quit my job; I have some savings, and I can live off that. I'd like to be part of ... I want to help," she said simply.
Cary cleared his throat. "For months now I've been thinking
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about doing what you just suggested. I came here because I made a commitment to Rand with the refinery, and I have to honor it. I did hire a foreman to give myself more free time. I want my blood and sweat and all my energies to go into building the center. For Amelia. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Of course I understand. But you haven't said yet if you will accept my help."
"All I have is notes on scraps of paper." He told her then about the day he thought Amelia's spirit was in the apartment, and about finding the map. She didn't laugh or look at him as if he'd lost his mind. Instead her eyes widened and she smiled.
"Cary, if I tell you something, will you promise you won't laugh or think me insane?" Cary nodded.
"It's nothing like what you just said, but so many times when I would start to think of you and Amelia, I would inevitably feel guilty, but the guilt never lasted for more than a minute. And it wasn't that I shook it off. It was as though Amelia came into my thoughts and drove them away. Are you going to laugh?" Julie asked anxiously.
"No. I think I believe in all that far-out stuff. I believe Amelia's... spirit was there that day. There is no other explanation. I'll never tell anyone else either."
Julie's heart swelled. "It will be our... your... experience. Will you show me your notes and tell me more about the memorial?"
Cary shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Should he share this, his memorial to Amelia, with Julie? He stared at Julie and saw only a warm, caring, wonderful person who would commit herself to him and to his plan for the memorial. She would work beside him. She'd never whimper or complain that he was w
orking twenty hours a day to pay tribute to his wife. Amelia always said true love was unselfish. "I'd like to show you what I have. I can use some input."
Cary's voice grew excited. "I want this to be wonderful, one of a kind, marvelous, extraordinary. I don't want this little city even to hint at illness and old age. I want it to be a modern structure, like Miranda. Glass and steel and perpetual sunshine, and if the sun isn't shining, I'll find a way to manufacture it. I want a zoo with every animal there is, and I want pets, hundreds of pets, and no goddamn goldfish either. I want warm flesh-and-blood animals that shed and eat and crap all over the place. Did you know that pets can make an older person's blood pressure go down if its high?"
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Julie's eyes widened. "No, I didn't know that."
"Well, it does. And pets make people laugh, and feel good. Parks and trails, horses and ponies for when the old people's grandchildren come to visit. They can come and stay for weeks. Do you know some of those nursing homes Amelia investigated wouldn't allow grandchildren except for a few hours a week?"
"I didn't know that either," Julie said.
Cary shook his head. "You'd be surprised at the restrictions that are put on the elderly. It's a sin. There won't be any of that in my city."
Julie clapped her hands. "Bravo! Now you see what Amelia was trying to do. She just didn't have enough time." Tears burned her eyes and she looked away.
"Julie?" "
"Yes."
"It's going to take me a lot of years to do what I want to do. I have to do it right. I'll be old by the time I finish, if God allows me to finish. Will you ... would you ..."
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