Star Struck

by Meredith Michelle

  “What are you doing here?” you manage to stammer.

  Colm widens those magnificent eyes and lets out a hearty laugh. “Well, isn’t that a fine how do you do?” All at once, you feel the weight of the world lift. Even the sky seems bluer and the breeze a bit cooler. You find yourself smiling and realize how unfamiliar it feels. How funny that you didn’t even realize how much you missed this man.

  Then you remember Rose standing beside you, and the smile quickly drains from your face. You feel suddenly guilty that you should be experiencing even a modicum of happiness in the face of so much loss. Rose looks down at her hands and at first you think she is crying. Then she looks up with a guilty grin and takes your hands in hers. “I’m so glad to finally see you smiling!” she says, squeezing your fingers.

  Then she does something amazing. She goes to Colm and gives him a long, firm hug. Taking his face in her hands she leans close and whispers, “Thank you for coming.”

  You realize what she’s done, this woman who has lost so much, putting herself aside to give you back something you had lost, too. She takes one of your hands and joins it to one of Colm’s. “Now, I have a plane to catch. Get out of here, you two!”

  You begin to protest. “Rose, let me—”

  She cuts you off mid-sentence. “Honey, you’ve done more than enough.” She folds you into one last, long embrace then walks purposefully down the little corridor toward her waiting flight.

  Watching her go, you feel a sense of sadness mixed with a gratitude so strong it almost hurts. You take a breath and turn to Colm.

  “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  He looks down at your face and with one finger lifts your chin. “I’m just pleased you’re smiling. I wasn’t certain you would be. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Then he frowns a little and a cloud washes over his eyes. “It’s time you and I had a talk.”

  On the taxi ride back to your hotel you tell Colm everything you’ve been holding back for the past months. He listens as you divulge your suspicions, list your frustrations, and he dries your tears of anger and pain. “I was just so surprised she left like that, with so little warning.” You can’t help but share your shock at Rose’s departure. “But, Colm, now that you’re here, I won’t have to do it alone. Thank you so much for coming to help me find her.”

  Colm takes a moment then exhales a long, slow breath. He looks up into your eyes. “Anna,” he tells you, “I didn’t come to help you look. I came to take you home.”

  You feel a punch to your gut and pull away from him. “Home? Colm, this is my home now, at least until I find Buffy. I know she’s here. I can feel that she is. I’m going to find her.”

  Reaching out to take your hand, Colm calmly tries to reason with you. “I know you want nothing more than to find her, or find what happened to her at least, but, Anna, it’s been three months. Three months. That is a long while. And I know she was your friend, but would she want you to give up your life for her? I know I didn’t know her well, but I don’t think she would have, Anna.”

  You feel a quick surge of anger and jerk your hand away from his. “You don’t know her, you’re right. And I’ll ask you to kindly refrain from referring to her in the past tense. She’s my friend; she’s not some kind of lost cause. And if you think I’m giving up just because you decide to waltz back in to my life, you don’t know me, either.”

  Colm closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Anna, I didn’t mean . . .”

  “It doesn’t matter what you meant or didn’t mean. All that matters is finding Buffy. You can either help me or you can go.”

  The words sound cold even to you, but you know this is exactly the resolve you need to keep on course. You’ve had to draw on your strength many times in your career, and to depend only on yourself, and you’ll do it a hundred times more if you have to.

  Colm looks at you as if trying to work out a puzzle. Finally, he shakes his head and spreads his hands. “Fine, Anna”—his voice is stern and even—“I will help you. But my return flight leaves in three days. My hope is that you’ll be sitting next to me on that airplane.”

  You soften and slide back toward him, your mood considerably brightened. “That doesn’t give us much time to find her, but if we double our efforts then maybe we’ll all be leaving here together!”

  Files and legal pads littered with sticky notes sit in a precarious stack on your utilitarian hotel room desk. Leafing through the pad on top, you fill Colm in on the latest. “So, we’ve looked pretty much everywhere, but there are these tiny out islands we haven’t been able to get to yet. It’s a long-shot, but there’s a chance.”

  You reflexively drop the rumpled pad of paper as you feel Colm’s hands on your shoulders. You can’t believe how quickly his touch overwhelms you, how much you’ve missed his warm, strong hands on your skin. He dips his head to kiss your earlobe as he whispers, “We’ll get to all that, Anna, but for now I want to spend some time on you.”

  He guides you to the bed, eases you face down onto the bedspread, and uses those magical hands to ease every tense muscle in your body. He begins with your neck and shoulders, his fingers providing just the right amount of pressure. The pleasure of his touch clashes with your intense sense of guilt at wasting even a moment of the time the two of you could be searching for your friend. As his hands work their way down your back, pausing to massage your buttocks before moving to your thighs, you can’t help but remember the last few times you and Colm were this close. It was always Colm who pulled away much too soon. So much of you wants to give into this man as he trails his fingers lightly up the insoles of your feet, over your calves, and teasingly back up your inner thighs with just the whisper of a touch. You’ve never wanted something so much in your life.

  Colm puts a hand on your shoulder and gently turns you over to face him then, straddling your legs, he cups the back of your head and leans in to kiss you. As his tongue dances with yours, you once again see a starburst before your closed eyelids and feel a rush of pure emotion toward this magnificent man. You allow yourself a few heavenly moments to bask in Colm’s embrace before summoning every bit of willpower to gently pull away. You turn your head to the side and slow your breathing, forcing yourself to picture Buffy standing before you, her eyes beseeching you not to let her go.

  “Colm, I’m sorry,” you tell him. You feel a tear trickle slowly from the corner of your eye.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Anna, nothing at all.” Colm turns your head back to face him and is every bit the perfect gentleman as he takes your chin between his fingers and kisses you, lingering for just a moment. He wipes the tear from your cheek then follows the path of his finger with a kiss.

  Something about the tenderness of his touch breaks through the hard resolve you’ve built up like a wall around your emotions. Your heartbeat quickens as you kiss him, a kiss that he returns in full. You are so grateful for everything this wonderful man has brought into your life and for his incredible patience and understanding. But it’s time to show him how you feel, how deeply you appreciate him. Slowly, slowly, you work your way down from his mouth, kissing every inch of him as you go, over the rise of his Adam’s apple, down the length of his neck, across his shoulders, over his muscled chest and arms. He tastes just like he smells, spicy and masculine. You work your way lower, over his taut and muscled stomach then you cautiously move your hand gently even lower. You find him firm and more than ready, large and warm through his thin boxer shorts.

  He groans appreciatively as you kiss him gently on the insides of each thigh then work your way higher, easing him out of his boxers.

  Colm’s breathing becomes ragged and as you move to take him into your mouth, he gasps and sits up a tiny bit. “Anna, you don’t have to,”

  “Shh,” you interrupt him, as you take as much of him as you can between your lips, swirling your tongue around him. Soon he’s sitting up again, and breathing much more quickly. His voice is vastly deeper when he spe
aks. “Anna, it’s not fair for you to have all the fun.”

  You laugh as he takes you by the waist and deftly flips you onto your back, pressing your head back into the softness of the pillow with a deep kiss. Now it’s Colm’s turn to explore every inch of you. As he lingers on every sensitive spot on your body, you feel any residual reluctance completely drain away. He takes his time on each breast, gently suckling each nipple before returning to your neck and lips with more kisses. Dipping his head lower, he traces a line from your belly button with the tip of his tongue, pausing at the top of your panties. “These’ll have to go,” he says with a gleam in his eye as he skims them over your legs and feet. He groans again as he moves his hand between your legs and feels that you’re ready for him.

  You can’t wait to feel him. Suddenly it seems you’ve been waiting all your life. But, true to form, he keeps you waiting a moment longer, and burrows his face into your most sensitive area. Now it’s you who can’t help moaning as Colm’s tongue explores you, bringing you just to the point of climax. You don’t want to end this way, though, and you lift his face with your hands and pull him up to meet you. “I’m ready, Colm.”

  “That ye are, my Anna, that ye most certainly are,” he agrees with satisfaction as he lifts his body over yours then enters you, gently at first, then more powerfully as you rock together. This time neither of you pulls away and you meet each other as waves and waves of fulfilled longing and desire wash over you both. “I love you, Anna,” Colm whispers into your ear as the waves begin to subside, “I’ve never loved anything or anyone more.”

  You’re surprised to find your response comes completely naturally. “I love you, Colm. So much.”

  He shifts himself to lie facing your back, cradling you in a full-body embrace, his knees behind your knees, his arm draped over yours, fingers entwined with your own. You feel the urgency of him begin to fade as his breathing slows, and the last thing you remember before falling asleep is his breath on your neck and his low voice promising, “I’m here with ye now. Just rest, Anna, just rest.”

  You awaken with a renewed sense of purpose, feeling more refreshed than you’ve felt in months. Glimmers of the night before wash over you as your eyes adjust to see Colm sitting in the little chair beside the window, leafing through your stack of notes. He has a legal pad in his lap and he’s making some notes of his own. You’re so relieved to see he means business.

  He glances up and notices you’ve awakened. “Good mornin’, sleuth. Seems you’ve been up to a fair amount of detective work.”

  You stretch and throw the covers back then rise to rest your elbows on Colm’s chair as you glance over his shoulder.

  “I have. But like I said, everything’s been a dead end. So far.” You breathe a sigh, ruffling the tiny hairs on the back of Colm’s neck.

  Colm shudders and reaches back to grab your hand, pulling it around to plant a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. You feel a shiver race down your spine. “Hey”—you laugh, pulling your hand away—“you’re giving me goose bumps.”

  Colm laughs a husky response. “What is it they say about turnabout?”

  You feel yourself melting into the warmth of Colm, his voice, his touch. Once again you can’t believe how quickly you can be distracted. You snap yourself out of it and firmly pull away. Clearing your throat and heading to the bathroom you announce, “I’m hitting the shower. We have work to do.”

  The two of you spend the next twelve hours in a tiny runabout hopping from scraggly out island to scraggly out island. Tiny and rocky, they take only a short time to cover from end to end. By the time the sun begins to set, you are sand blasted, sun burned, and exhausted. Poor Colm’s nose is bright red. Despite liberal reapplications of sun block coupled with a baseball cap, his fair skin looks charred and ready to blister and peel.

  You retire exhausted to the hotel room and fall into bed, with just enough energy to snuggle, Colm’s long limbs wrapped around yours, but too tired to do any more.

  The next day brings more of the same and though you try to hide your frustration, you find yourself short-tempered and snappish. The prospect of your suddenly foreshortened stay on the island is causing you unbelievable stress, as is the constant searching, the continued dead ends, and the knowledge that in one short day Colm will be leaving, with or without you. When he first arrived you thought maybe he would be the answer, the knight in shining armor who would help you rescue Buffy, and that the three of you would leave the island together, living happily ever after.

  You rise the next morning to the telltale ping of rain on the roof and find a rare island tempest outside. The palm trees bend in the brisk wind and the rain comes down in steady, slanting sheets. You look out at the water and see whitecaps on the surface, impossible conditions for travel to the last few islands you haven’t yet been able to reach.

  Colm takes in the look of disappointment on your face. “It may clear yet. The forecast calls for the rain to end by midday.”

  You sigh with frustration. “It’s not enough time. We have six more islands to search. It will take a whole day . . .”

  You sink down onto the bed. “Why? Why does it have to rain today? Today of all days?” You slam your fist into a pillow. You were so hoping that today would bring an answer, definitive one way or another. You would either find Buffy and leave with Colm or you would finish your search of the islands and know for sure that you’d explored every possible avenue.

  Colm suggests you go through the notes one more time while you wait for the squall to pass. The exercise results in more frustration, a mass of dead ends with no viable leads.

  “I know there must be something I’ve overlooked, but I really cannot see what it could be,” you tell Colm as you straighten the pile of papers and rise one more time to look out the window in hopes the rain has lightened. To your dismay, the sky is still a solid grey.

  “Anna, you’ve been very thorough. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it.” He pauses, thinking. “You’ve tracked every lead within your control. There’s just one brick wall you’ve hit over and over and it appears impassable. It’s a hard thing, but when a man has somethin’ to hide there are times there’s no way to the truth.”

  “I know, Colm, I get that, but I just keep thinking if I can’t find her, at least maybe I can find some little scrap of evidence, something that leads to another piece of the puzzle that leads to another until we finally find out . . . but so far there’s not even that first little scrap.” You shake your head at the thought of how much time you’ve spent on this and how little your efforts have rendered.

  “It is such a hard thing. I know it has to be, Anna. But you have done everythin’, everythin’ you possibly could do.” He stands and takes you by the shoulders. “I propose the followin’: You and I together pay a visit to the constable and inform him of our departure, but require his promise that he continues to keep the case open and alive, and that he contacts you immediately when the slightest hint of evidence is found. You’re only a plane ride away.” He pauses to let it sink in. “Deal?”

  You close your eyes and press your palms to your eyelids, shaking your head as you answer against your better judgment.

  “I guess so, Colm. I’ll be honest that I’m not at all certain I’m doing the right thing. But I guess so.”

  Colm lifts you to your feet and kisses you tenderly. “Ye are, Anna. Ye are doin’ entirely the right thing.”

  You return from the police station more rattled and uncertain than before. The officer there seems irritated but grudgingly agrees to take your phone calls and to keep you informed after you leave. “Yes, Miss Anna, yes, Miss Anna,” he says repeatedly. You think you can hear him breathe a sigh of relief as you turn and walk out of the station.

  Colm keeps his arm firmly around your waist as he propels you toward the waiting taxi. You can’t help but look once more over your shoulder before you shut the taxi door.

  Back at the hotel, you brush the dust from your suitcase and pa
ck slowly and listlessly, glancing out the window over and over. You find yourself playing little games in your own mind, tempting fate to make a decision for you. If the sun comes out, you think, it’s a sign I’m supposed to stay. Or, If I hear thunder, it’s a sign I’m supposed to go. Of course, nothing changes and the sky remains the same relentless steel grey it’s been all day long.

  At last the few final items are packed. You scour the room, making sure you’re leaving nothing behind. The most recent pile of notes, at the moment your most valuable possession by far, goes into your carry-on bag.

  You zip your suitcase and look around the room one last time. It’s fitting somehow, you think, that the rain should be falling as you take your leave, as if the island is mourning the loss of Buffy.

  Colm picks up your suitcase and together you walk out the door. The very moment you step outside, a ray of light slices through the clouds, blinding you both. You shield your eyes, look up at the sky, and are instantly dazzled by the sun shooting from behind a huge, grey cloud. A glance toward the beach confirms that the water has calmed, the translucent blue surface rippling gently. You don’t know what it means, but you feel the sudden change is sending you a message.

  “Ready?” asks Colm, sensing your hesitation.

  “Colm, I’m not sure . . .”

  You look up at the sky again. You’re unable to move, watching the clouds break apart, the blue island sky overtaking the grey.

  “Anna. We really don’t have a lot of time, the flight—”

  “I know, Colm. I know what time the flight is. I’m just not sure I’m supposed to be on it.”

  Colm seems to crumple physically. “Not supposed to be on it? Anna, what does that mean? You’ve packed, you’ve made your decision.” He gently cups your elbow and nudges you forward. “Please walk with me.”