Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

by Lisa Ann Porter

  “Where are you?” Inquiring softly, he continued his exploration, as if by the touch of his fingers, he could uncover her secrets.

  Capturing his roaming finger with her hand, “remembering a happier time,” she said. Then she smiled, as she placed his hand on the steering wheel. Saying nothing more, Stephen allowed his mind to focus on what he had planned for the evening, hoping that it would add to her memories of happier times.

  When Stephen pulled up near the beach, pushing a button to release the windows, Sable leaned her head slightly out of the window, inhaling the brisk salty air.

  “I thought we were going to a restaurant.” Her voice was sensuously breathy, mixing with the clashing sound of the waves, as it rushed toward the sand, and then back out into the ocean.

  Smiling, “We are,” he said quietly. When he got to the spot that he had picked out days earlier, Stephen knew he had done the right thing as he observed Sable’s reaction.

  Sable thought she was dreaming. With both her hands on her cheeks and her mouth open wide in astonishment, she sat in frozen awe as Stephen brought the car to a smooth stop.

  Still sitting with her mouth open, Stephen’s smile grew larger as he got out of the car, going around it, opening the door, he stretched forth his hands, watching as she timidly placed her soft fingers into his grip.

  Gently helping her from the car, he continued to watch her lovingly as she stood on unsteady legs gazing at the scene before her. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  Stephen had a white linen tablecloth spread as a blanket on the ground, surrounded by candles on one side while a lone scented candle luminously glowed in the center.

  There was a large bouquet of red roses tied with gold ribbons placed on the other side near a silver bucket that held a bottle of champagne being chilled in chipped ice.

  Sable heard light jazz cooing throughout the air like a soft breeze. Glancing around to see from where it was coming, she saw a large white tent in the distance. Pleasantly surprised and in total awe, she mutedly followed Stephen as he gently pulled her further onto the blanket. Then, he helped her ease down, as she sat upon throw pillows that looked like they came out of an Arabian Nights movie.

  Turning her head in every direction, she took in the sights all around her. The sky was clear blue and filled with beautiful stars. The ocean, moving in, resonated with the gently soothing flow of jazz music, and caressed the crisp salty air with a mist of awe. Inhaling deeply the crisp salty air caressing her skin, she moved as the ocean waters moved, in slow sensuous motions, as if she and the ocean were being gently rocked in the same arms.

  Sable briefly wondered, as she saw people moving about in a tent at a distance filled with soft lights. Then, turning her gaze upon Stephen, she allowed her eyes full with unspoken love for him to glow, as the jazz continued to fill the night air with caressing melodies, which felt like tiny fingers moving over her skin. Shivering, she momentarily closed her eyes, embracing the feeling and loving it.

  Stooping down in front of her, he cupped her face into his hands and lightly kissed her lips. Slowly opening her eyes, their eyes pierced each other for what seemed like eternity. Then straightening himself, taking a deep breath, Stephen reminded himself to go slowly, and do it right.

  Looking up toward the twinkling stars, do it right, he reminded himself again. He had wasted too much time hating, while life and time, he no longer had, kept on moving. Time. Time to live again, he silently vowed.

  Wrapping himself up in hatred and revenge, he had forgotten how to live. Looking down toward Sable, until her, he thought. Until her.

  Mentally shaking himself, Stephen went to uncover a large tray filled with various cheeses, grapes, and strawberries. He then poured them both some champagne, giving her a glass that chilled her fingers, making her feel so warm she felt as if she had too many clothes on. Impossible, since they were outside sitting alongside cooling beach waters.

  The scene Stephen had created was glamorous, and it took her breath away. She was speechless, as strong emotions rearranged the corridors of her heart, clearing away the clutter and knocking down walls…for Stephen.

  During this whole time, Stephen had not said one word; he watched the emotions that played across her face. Seeing the love for him in her eyes, without her asking him to, Stephen knelt beside her.

  Removing her shoes, lightly caressing each ankle as though they were fragile rose petals, he slowly lifted one of her feet and lightly kissed the tip of her toe. His eyes locked to hers the entire time; he did not miss the tremor vibrating through her body—he felt it. He smiled, but said nothing.

  Gently releasing her feet, Stephen then settled on the other side of the blanket, and stretched like a lazy cougar, that was sated, watching her intently. Trying desperately not to fidget from his intense stare, Sable reached with a shaking hand for her champagne glass.

  She watched him as his eyes followed a path from her hair, moving lightly at the slightest breeze, to the pulse throbbing at the base of her neck, telling him that she was just as aware of him as he was of her. She knew, by the intensity in his eyes, he saw the rise and fall of her chest, as her breasts pressed against her dress, a dress covering her like a glove. Sipping the champagne, Sable did not taste a thing.

  When his eyes focused on her legs and lovingly caressed them, Stephen closed his eyes before he lost control, missing Sable swallowing, though there was nothing in her throat. He took several deep breaths in hopes that it would help him clear his mind of making love with her. She knew that though he looked relaxed that he was very alert; for when he opened his eyes they told her so. She was about to bite into a strawberry when he stopped her.

  “Wait…you need this.” Stephen took her strawberry, dipped it into hand whipped cream, and placed it to her lips. As she bit into the fruit, gazing into his eyes, she was sure it was the best strawberry she had ever tasted in her life. Unconsciously closing her eyes, enjoying the flavors caressing her tongue, she missed the look of intense love that briefly lit his eyes.

  When she opened her eyes again, Stephen went back to where he was to keep from touching her. “Stephen…” Sable saying his name sounded like music. For Stephen, time stopped. “This is lovely; I have never been treated this way.” He smiled. Sable continued to enjoy the fruits, cheese and champagne. Silently, a waiter approaching asked Stephen if he would like dinner to be served.

  “Sable? Are you ready to dine?” He asked, as he leaned his head over to one side observing how sweet she looked.

  Feeling more relaxed than she had felt in days, inhaling the ocean breeze, “Yes…thank you…I am.” Saying in a quiet breathy voice, she lifted both arms into the air, reveling in the feeling.

  Each in their own thoughts, loving the stillness and peace of the evening, they knew that words were unnecessary. So neither of them spoke for several seconds, the moment and time spoke loudly of their love for one another, and contentment of being at peace.

  Stephen did not trust himself to get any closer to her than was necessary. Not yet. He wanted more than the physical with her. He wanted her love. Staring unblinking at her, he wanted her heart. When she giggled from the bubbles of the champagne tickling her nose, he knew he wanted her. Forever.

  Breaking the silence of the moment, several waiters returned with steamed lobsters oozing with melted butter. Asparagus smothered in hollandaise sauce, and new potatoes seasoned in garlic and herbs added a light scent to the salty sea air.

  Crisp Caesar salads and piping hot French bread added subtle aroma, as decadent baked cinnamon apples drizzling with caramel sauce, topped with fresh sweet cherries cumulated as their dessert. Sable was sure that she had gained thirty pounds from dinner alone.

  Just as she was popping the last of the cherries into her mouth, running her tongue against her lips to catch the caramel sauce, Stephen smiling asked softly, “Sable…will you marry me?”

  The cherry stopped in midair. Sable’s eyes widened; her jaw dropped open,
and she blinked. She had not expected this. Looking comically, staring at him as if he had just sprouted two heads, she squeaked.

  Stephen laughed because in all the time he had known her, he had never known her to be speechless. “I look forward to telling our grandchildren about the night their grandmother dripped caramel sauce down her cleavage,” his eyes dropping to her breasts, “because she was so much in love with me.” The laughter had gone out of his voice. He gazed upon her awaiting an answer to his question, would she marry him?

  Sable looked down at her chest because she could not have heard him correctly. Marriage, she thought, with loving surprise. Then, she saw that there was no sauce on her breasts; she would have felt it, she thought, in that moment. Stephen, eyes twinkling again with laughter, popped a cherry in his mouth. “Will you marry me, Sable?”

  He was still smiling as she looked up at him with a look of shock on her face. Seeing that he was completely serious, waiting patiently for her answer, she smiled. Still unable to speak, she simply bobbed her head up and down…yes, yes, yes, her mind yelled. His laughter was musical. And she loved him.

  As his smile slowly died, his voice was quietly sensual. “Well?” He needed to hear her say yes, never taking his intense eyes off hers. They gleamed with love that sent her heart racing.

  Unconsciously licking her lips, which sent Stephen’s body in a clench a ten-mile jog would not relax. “Yes.” Eyes meeting his from across the blanket, “yes, I’ll marry you,” she said breathlessly, while continuing to lick at her lips; they felt so dry.

  Since he said nothing after her response, she was feeling a little nervous, so she took a strawberry, dipped it into the cream, and licked at it before taking a bite. It was Stephen’s sharp intake that made her look up at him again, and he looked positively dangerous.

  Stephen heard her. He was about to say something, when she bit into the strawberry. If his life had depended on it, he could not find his vocal cords. He was trying very hard not to touch her, until she was his wife. But he could not take his eyes off her lips, as she licked at the cream, then bit into the strawberry.

  “Stephen?” Her voice was full of uncertainty.

  His eyes shot to hers. “We’re getting married tonight.” His eyes told her that he meant it.

  She did not know what to think, so she said breathlessly, “I’ll call my father.”

  Piercing her with a look that said I love you, Stephen whispered ever so softly, “I love you.”

  “And I love you.” Leaning over to kiss him, Sable did not hear the applause of the waiters.

  Chapter 34

  Three months later…

  Run. As soon as her final release forms had been signed, Lorna got into her car and drove out of the hospital parking lot like a thief leaving a crime scene. She had to get away. She needed time to think, to clear her head and come to grips with the horrific events she had just lived through.

  As she drove down the interstate, she paid little attention to the weather, although she could see the sun was shining. She paid little attention to the traffic, although she knew without focusing, it moved slowly.

  Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as her mind replayed the last time she saw her mother. A horn honked. She had unknowingly put her foot on the brakes, holding up the already slow traffic.

  Easing her foot back onto the gas pedal, the car moved forward slowly, just like a scene vividly playing in her mind. She could not forget the last conversation she had with her mother before leaving the hospital. Jean, knowing Lorna was being released from the hospital, wanted Lorna to come stay with her at the hotel where she was staying.

  “Lorna…we can talk about…about what has happened.” Nervously, Jean paced the floor while Lorna dressed. She hated confronting unpleasant things. “I have so very much to explain…I don’t want you to think that I never loved you,” she said pleadingly, continuing to pace the floor. Not once did she look at Lorna. She dared not, because she did not want to see the hatred in her daughter’s eyes. Paying little attention to her mother, Lorna continued packing; she had heard it all before.

  Glancing around the room, ensuring she was not leaving anything, she zipped her suitcase closed. Jean was still pacing. “We’ll order room service and maybe have a manicure…” she said hopefully, “…and put all this nasty business behind us.”

  Nasty business. That is all Lorna heard in all Jean’s rambling. She called the hell she lived through nasty business. For a brief moment, she was furious. Closing her eyes to the pain inside, she wanted to die. Her mother. Her own mother had helped in causing so much pain.

  Her heart twisted inside her like a mop being wrung of everything it soaked up, everything it had inside. Jean was still pacing the room, detailing their plans for when they got to the hotel.

  “Mom…” Jean stopped pacing long enough to listen; it had been a long time since she had heard Lorna call her ‘Mom.’ “Mom…you allowed your husband to use me.” The pain in her voice sliced through the air like a sword. “You allowed your husband to…use me.” She ended quietly.

  Lorna did not yell. If she had, Jean would have probably felt better. She shivered as Lorna’s quiet voice shattered her carefully put together world like broken glass.

  “Mom, you stood by while I was being raped…raped by a man that I believed was my father.” Jean didn’t say a word; she was staring at the floor as if she’d never seen one before. “Mom? What can you possibly say to me that would explain how you allowed your daughter, the one that you claim to love…to be hurt in such a way? What could you possibly say to me?” Lorna walked slowly over to her mother, gently with her fingers, she lifted her head and stared into her eyes. Jean looked away.

  Lorna would have been crushed, but she realized that her mother, no matter what she said, did not love her. Love went beyond feeding and clothing a child. To love a child also meant teaching, guiding and protecting that child. Her mother, Lorna thought, as she stared at the side of Jean’s cheek, had no idea what love was all about.

  Finally meeting Lorna’s gaze, Jean began ringing her hands as if she was not sure what to do with them. Lorna felt sorry for her mother; she was not sure why, but she did. Maybe it had something to do with the conversations she had been having or rather hearing from Nurse North.

  The head nurse spent a lot of time with her and she did not know why. At first, she was suspicious and thought Nurse North wanted something. Everybody did, didn’t they, but Nurse North did not.

  As she stood staring at her mother, she remembered that whenever Nurse North came into her room, she would say good morning as if she was singing, then opened the curtains in her room, and no matter what the weather was like outside, comment that it was a beautiful day to be alive.

  Several times throughout the day, Nurse North came to her room as if for no other reason than to fluff her pillow. She did not try to make trivial conversation; she just talked though Lorna never said a word. She remembered Nurse North telling her about her past. Her hurts. Her pains. And how she had survived.

  Lorna did not put much faith in religion. Not anymore. Not after what she had been through, then there was her family, such as it was. But after listening to Nurse North talk about her past, she called it a testimony, whatever that meant.

  When Lorna finally spoke, she had promised Nurse North that she would try hard not to give up on life, though she was tired of it.

  Life, Lorna thought, as she looked upon her mother, who was looking at anything except her again, still wringing her hands as if she was trying to take the skin off. Is there a better way? She sadly wondered. Lorna took her suitcase off the bed and started for the door.

  “Lorna! Wait!” Jean was afraid of being alone. She needed Lorna. “Lorna…I know we can work things out…I know I’ve let you down…”

  “Let me down?” incredulously shaking her head at the statement. Lorna looked at her mother in disbelief. “Let me down…” momentarily closing her eyes, tired of feeling ashamed.
Weary of being afraid. “Mom, you need help…you need help.” Saying quietly, shaking her head slowly, and taking a deep breath, Lorna left Jean standing in the middle of her hospital room wringing her hands.

  The billboard read ‘last chance for gas for the next ten miles.’ Looking down at her gas gauge, the needle was pointing toward ‘E’; she was riding on fumes and luck. Pulling off the busy intersection, Lorna eased her car onto the gravel road toward the first gas tank.

  Her car did a small tremor, coughed as if exhausted, then stopped. It was completely empty. Getting out, stretching her tight limbs, she unlocked her gas tank. Putting the gas pump inside the car, she glanced around in search of a bathroom.

  That is when her eyes locked on the wire newspaper stand, filled to capacity with papers screaming to be bought. From where she was standing, she clearly read the bold headlines in extra large letters: ‘The World’s Most Desirable Woman Shot Her Father to Death.’

  For seconds she was paralyzed. There was a snapshot of both her and Harry opposite one another in full color. Snatching the pump out of the car with trembling fingers, she frantically looked around hoping no one recognized her.

  Getting into her car, locking the doors, Lorna mentally thanked God for debit cards; she did not want to go into the station to pay for the gas. Taking one more fearful look at the headlines, starting the engine, she pulled out of the gas station hurriedly, the tires of her car spitting gravel and dirt from her exit.

  Driving blindly down the freeway, her frail fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly that the veins in her hand were visible. Lorna saw in her mind’s eyes the pictures of both her and Harry glaring in full brilliant color. Run, she mentally screamed to herself. Run.

  Pushing on the gas pedal harder, she paid no attention to her speedometer needle as it steadily climbed toward one hundred miles an hour. The legal speed for the freeway she was on was sixty-five miles per hour.