by L. Duarte
Mel and Niki had hired a local wedding planner to decorate the basement. The space has a stunning and intimate ambience. It exudes romance. Strings with thousands of soft lights cascade from the ceiling, recreating a starry night. White, and golden cloths are draped over the tables around the room. Towers of lovely white roses, lilies, orchids are everywhere. The center of the room accommodates a makeshift dance floor.
My cheeks feel hot and my stomach contracts as we stroll through the vast room. Will and I stop by Rick and his wife to thank them for coming. We pass by Stefan, and I stop to kiss my dear friend who has cared for me all these years. We sit at the center table. Mel, sitting next to Will, stands and proposes a toast. She looks at Will and me, and I sense the feeble thread of a bond woven between us growing stronger.
“Will told me once that some souls roam earth searching for a mate. Lame, I know. Portia, ever since I met Will, I know that he has been searching for you. He told me many times, ‘There is someone created for me, I just need to wait, and she will come.’ So yeah, you married a dork. Will not only dared to believe, but also persevered in his wait. Portia, I am glad you came, for in you, he has found the half to complete his whole. Will, I love you, a lot. You are the best brother. Now, hurry and make some beautiful babies to play with Ella. Here is to a life time of happiness.” She raises her champagne flute, and I hear the tinkling of glasses, our cue for a kiss. I can manage that.
As we savor our delicious dinner, I glance around the room at the dozens of people present. Under the glimmering lights, they talk and smile because they are celebrating Will and me. Again, I question if I am entitled to this fascinating life, where the most perfect man I have ever encountered is crazy about me. We are surrounded by this overwhelming demonstration of love. I sigh at the sight of a life where a family genuinely cares about my existence and fills the void that has existed in my heart. Can I ever get used to so much?
Sometime during dinner, Niki stands to make a speech. Before she utters a word, I am teary. Again.
“Will, tonight, you became one with Portia. Through a pact of blood, she has been one with Tarry and me our entire lives. Tonight, you become part of our ‘secret society.’ Welcome to our secret circle, we will love and treasure you, as we do Portia. We will, forever more, be bound to you. Portia, growing up with you, lightened my days in many indescribable ways. Through the years, I’ve held you when you cried and joined you in happiness and laughter. I’ve always clung to the hope that happy days would come to us. I truly believe this is a wonderful world because your happiness finally arrived and no one else deserves it as much as you do. You have fallen in love and the ending of your fairy tale is a happy one. I look forward to writing your fascinating story one day, knowing that each moment we shared and each moment we held each other has lead us here, where Will waited for you. May your love be infinite and last for an eternity.”
Niki then hands the microphone to Tarry. He faces us, and my heart tightens when he begins. “Peaches, you know the way I best express myself is through music. So, if all of you will indulge me, I want to sing a song I wrote for one of the most important people in my life.” The DJ hands him a guitar and adjusts the microphone in front of him. Tarry glances at Niki and me and, I swear, he has tears in his eyes.
Tarry’s fingers deftly strum the guitar. He closes his eyes and his deep, husky voice breathes into the microphone:
There are two girls, a boy, and a train.
More sadness than a soul should sustain,
Laughter is loud, but pain is aware.
Hope slashes in the midst of despair,
Turns to rupture the soul, more than it can flow
Hatred leads nowhere, but stray. Shadows with iron grip behold the pain,
From isolation of the soul
Can hope prevail, in the midst of despair?
Three lost souls, where isolation is stowed.
For a girl with deep blue eyes holds the future so bright,
And Nillie’s shy stare dreams and a dare.
Through it all, hope arises.
So today, I reach to you, and vaguely remember, a list somewhere,
As every writer knows what will sell,
Love a better choice as death is a dwell
Can there be hope, when all else carries despair.
Can hope prevail in the midst of despair?
He strums his guitar one last time, and puts it away. I get up and walk over to him to throw my arms around him. I pull him in a tight embrace and say, “I love you so much, Tarry.” Will hugs him too, and I see that Will mutually accepts our silly secret society.
“Take good care of her, Will,” Tarry utters to my husband.
“Yeah, man, I will. And you better be around to help me, you know just as well as I do, she is a train wreck.”
Tarry holds Will in a brotherly embrace. I succumb to the tears, even knowing it will ruin my makeup. But there is something to Tarry’s tone tonight that makes me think of life slowly shifting away from him.
Niki must have sensed it too. She tugs my hand, and we wrap our arms around the two men. This is singled-handedly one of the most significant moments of my life. But fear bites my soul. My arms grip a little tighter, trying to hold onto the moment.
The DJ interrupts us. “How about the newlyweds grace us with a dance? To the dance floor, if you will, please.”
Will guides me to the dance floor. His eyes glint with an exuberant mixture of passion and the secret promises of a lifetime of happiness.
The DJ announces. “Here is a song Will requested for his wife, ‘Moon River,’ performed by Louis Armstrong.” With a foolish grin helplessly planted on my face, I glance up. Will enlaces my waist, pulling me to him. I swoon inside his embrace.
“I love you, y’know,” he whispers in my ear, sending shivers to my soul.
“I love you, too.” I rest my head on his shoulder, dancing to one of my favorite songs.
“I can’t stand to be here for another minute,” he groans in my ear. “Let’s go.”
“But, Will, we can’t just leave,” I say innocently, but deep desire pools in my core with delicious anticipation of what the night will bring.
“Hell yeah…we can.” He lets out a long breath.
I giggle. Other couples join us on the dance floor. Before the song hits its last note, Will tugs my hand and whisks me away. We exit through the back door, and I shiver. But I know it is not because of the cool night air.
“The weather is perfect for what I have in mind.” Will opens the door of his Jeep, and assists me inside.
“Where are we going?”
“Home.” He is so serious and focused.
“And where is that?”
“You’ll see.”
I recline in the passenger’s seat and watch him maneuver the car. He leans back and takes off his tie. A new platinum ring adorns his left hand with the inscription, ‘I belong to my beloved.’
I think of the day we met and my errant life flashes through my mind’s eye. The pain that once controlled my life now seems so distant. As unstoppable as the sun coursing the sky, the old and nagging premonition that something bad is creeping my way, clenches my soul and threatens to ruin my moment. I ignore it.
Unsuspecting of our destination, I gaze at the starry night whispering me hidden promises. Then, I turn to admire Will and try to absorb the sight of him. He is achingly beautiful. Drawing a ragged breath of air, he winds through twisted roads, diving deeper into the woods. I notice his thumb twirls the new ring. He is anxious, and so am I.
Will finally turns into a long driveway, parking in front of a huge and rustic barn. He strides around the car and opens the door for me.
“This is home,” he announces excitedly.
He grabs my hand, assisting me out of the car into the bright night. Will gathers the fluffy skirt of the wedding gown and guides me under the big, round moon in the sky.
“I bought this property with the money from my first exhibition.
Dan told me real estate was a solid investment, though I don’t think this is what he had in mind. It was a farm once. Before I bought it, I would drive by and dream of raising a family here.” He guides me to the side door of the barn. “Right there was an abandoned house.” He points to a vacant lot. “But I had it demolished.”
“It is lovely, Will,” I utter.
“I bought the place with the intention of turning the barn into a studio, until I had a family of my own. But since I am always at Dan’s, I seldom use this. It has three acres of land.” He smiles and adds sheepishly, “We could even raise horses here, if you want.”
“With you at my side, Will. I’m game to do anything.” Suddenly, my heart pounds in expectation. I gaze at my husband and listen to his rambling speech. He sounds like a teenager and, honestly, I feel like one, too.
After unlocking the door to the barn, he effortlessly sweeps me off my feet. “Since we can’t go on our honeymoon, I thought this would be a nice place to spend our first night.” He is tense, and I smile again.
“Welcome home, baby.” He steps over the threshold of our piece of heaven.
“Oh, Will, any place is special with you.” Portia trembles in my arms as I step inside our temporary home.
Portia gasps in surprise. I love the expression of awe in her face, and I adore the purity inside her eyes. While she was busy arranging the wedding and helping with the Thanksgiving dinner, I did do a few things of my own.
Throughout the large room, dozens of candles glimmer. Rose petals lead to a king-size bed that I bought earlier in the week. A large bathtub that Lucas had installed as wedding gift swirls jets of water.
The large wall grabs her attention. I have painted and sketched about a hundred versions of my adoring wife. And my fingers already tingle in anticipation of drawing her in the splendor of her wedding gown. It’s in here that I stowed all the sketches and paintings of her. For this reason, I have never brought her here.
I place her on the floor and kiss her lips. She walks slowly to the wall and examines the images. I hold my breath. Her eyes scan the pictures of her sleeping, smiling, staring out the window, mesmerized by the sunrise, holding Chloe. Her eyes halt at the one where her face, oozing sadness and vulnerability, is beaded by the steam of the shower. I drew it the day I bathed her. Above our bed is the portrait of her sleeping. I was saving it for Christmas, but I figured our wedding night would be just as good.
“Will, there are so many versions of me,” she says quietly.
“Every time I close my eyes, your face overflows in my mind. Drawing you has become an obsession, lately.” I smile nervously. The truth is I became obsessed the very first day I met her.
“I never thought I could love someone the way I love you, Will.”
My hands slide across her waist, drawing her to me. “You are my heart, Portia. I love you immeasurably.” I inhale and clear my throat to recite a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, I love thee to the depth and breadth and height, My soul can reach.”
Portia’s eyes blink repeatedly as tears roll down her heavenly face. My lips capture hers, and I fight the instinct to take her to our bed. I gather a soft blanket and drape it over her shoulders, “Come with me, I want to take you to a special place.”
I hold a lantern, guiding her out the back door. We stroll on a path in the woods I found when I first explored the place. My eyes flicker to her long dress, and I question my bright idea of making her walk through the woods at night dressed in her wedding gown. But Portia grins at me, and I am reminded of her super cool nature.
“Jeez, I hope I don’t ruin the dress,” she says, with a hint of amusement in her voice.
“I got it, baby.” I gather the hem and lift it. We walk into a small meadow that leads to a babbling brook. I release the dress, put my hand on the small of her back, and guide her through a clear path of small lanterns. We stroll under a round, yellow moon that appears incredibly close to earth tonight. By the stream, a bowl fire emanates warmth to where a makeshift bed, embellished with dozens of fluffy pillows and warm blankets, awaits for us.
“Whoa—” Portia brings her hand to her mouth. I smile. She is too easily impressed for her own good.
“How…when…who got this ready?” Her eyes flicker from the bed to me.
“I hired someone to wait here and prepare everything when Lucas called him. He timed it to perfection.”
“This is where we will build our home.” I nod to the open field by the creek.
The enthralling crackle of the fire and the gentle burble of the stream provide an intimate symphony.
“Will, you created our private paradise.”
We stop by the bed and I put the lantern down. I turn to face Portia. The fire colors the air gold. The primal desire stirring inside me since the day she knocked on my front door, rushes through me. I inhale deeply to calm my twisted nerves. I gently remove the blanket from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Damn, my fingers are trembling. And I am so incredibly aroused it hurts.
I mentally say a little grace, thanking God for the warm weather. I remove the clip from her hair, and it falls around her shoulders. My fingers tug a curl and I smell it, relishing the familiar gardenia fragrance I have come to love. With feather light touch, my fingers skim over her flawless face. My lips trail soft kisses across her face, her neck, and her naked shoulders. She shivers.
“Are you cold, baby?” She bites her lower lip, and nods her head. “You are so beautiful,” I moan. “I dreamed of this night, since the first day I laid my eyes on you,” I whisper so low I wonder if she hears me.
Slowly, I unfasten her dress, allowing it to slide down her curves and pool around her feet. White lacy and silk undergarments cover the inches of skin I have coveted all this time. An involuntary moan escapes my lips, and I gather all my strength to avoid the caveman in me from rising. I have a strong urge to toss Portia onto the bed and claim her.
I will my erratic breathing to calm. I want to relish every second and explore every curve. I want to burn in my memory her captivating beauty, delight in the soft texture of her skin, and become intoxicated by her tempting scent.
Staring at me without blinking, she slides her hands inside my tuxedo and slowly slips it off. She discards the jacket and her trembling fingers reach for my shirt’s buttons. An agonizingly slow ritual, she unfastens each button and removes my shirt, piling it on top of the jacket. Portia pauses, her tongue skims over her lips as she glances at my pants. She spreads her palms low on my abdomen and gives me a long, warm caress. I gasp. A loud groan escapes my throat. She smiles.
Her fingers find my belt. I fix my eyes on her eyes. The simple act of her unbuttoning my pants becomes endless torture. Again, I use all my self-control to resist the urge to devour her hastily.
We are both shaking. Our bodies shimmer under the moonlight. Though it is warmer than usual, a cold breeze swivels around us. I tug over layers of blankets and usher her under the covers and climb in after her. She nuzzles my chest, huddling instinctively closer to me.
“Remember the first day we met?” I embrace her slender figure.
“How can I not?” There is a trace of humor in her voice as her fingers stroke my chest.
“Pick a star.” I ask, remembering the heartbreaking story of her lonely childhood.
“See the Great Square of Pegasus?” She points to the constellation. “The star on top.” She smiles under the starry night. “Can we call it Aurora?”
“Uh-hmm,” I whisper and the intimacy of the moment envelops our bodies. The outside world disappears and there is just us, tucked away in our secret place.
“Portia, will you go to Aurora with me?” I breathe into her hair.
“Yeah, Will. And what should we do when we get there?” she asks.
“We will make love until Aurora turns into a shooting star.”
“Oh, Will, let’s set Aurora on fire,” she utters.
My hand c
aptures her face, and I drink in the intensity of her stare. “I love you.” My lips meet hers. Hungrily, I taste of her exotic flavor. I thrust my tongue inside her parted lips exploring every inch of her mouth, inviting her to an erotic dance.
My fingers, itching to touch every part of her, run the length of her hair. My tongue strokes hers, savoring her taste. After kissing her deeply, my lips skim along her neck, sucking her soft skin. Sensing her pulse as it vibrates under the stroke of my tongue, I moan. I reach under her, and unhook her bra.
I pull back, admiring the fullness of her breasts. I swallow hard. The pressing arousal inside my boxers urges me to speed up the process. I shove that need away. With lingering adoration, my lips close around an erect nipple, sucking and biting it lightly. My tongue travels from one breast to the other. I suck her skin harder than I should. She gasps, and her fingers tug my hair and pull me closer. I am sure it will leave a love mark, but I can’t help myself.
Slowly, my lips continue their pilgrimage of her body. I kiss her abdomen, and my tongue swirls around her navel. I bite below her hipbone. With my unrestrained need, I suck there and mark her flawless skin. I lick the inch of skin I just bruised, and Portia writhes under my lashing tongue. I pull back and my anxious fingers tear at the white lace that covers her body. She moans. My heart accelerates to a record high. She is so beautiful.
Reverently, I lower my face to the triangle I’ve craved all this time. My nose gently skims the soft hair, barely touching it. She squirms. I bury my nose in the core of her body, and inhale her scent. “Damn, Portia, you smell so good.” My tongue slowly searches for the delicate skin under the hair. Hungry for more of her, I stroke my tongue on her sensitive skin while I gently hold her twisting hips.
“Will, please,” she cries.