by Peggy Webb
“Yes,” she whispered, and he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom…by way of the kitchen. They left a trail of clothes from the door to the bed.
He slithered an ice cube over her breast, then took the chilled nipple deep in his mouth. Speared by pleasure, she arched upward murmuring, “Please, please, please.”
“Not yet, Hannah…hold on…hold on.”
She cupped her breasts, offering them up to him with soft whimpers, and he suckled so deeply the earth stopped spinning on its axis. The entire universe held its breath.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Don’t ever stop doing that.”
“What about this?”
He slid the ice down her belly then warmed the cold flesh with his tongue. And when she felt the sensations of cold followed by heat inside her, she shattered into a million pieces.
“Now, Hunter.…”
“Yes…now.”
He lifted her hips with both hands. Impaled, she hung over the edge of the universe, screaming her pleasure to the stars.
It was a long, long while before they came back down to earth. Curved against him, warm and sated, Hannah twisted his long hair around her fingers.
“I was thinking about your sketches. You have a remarkable talent.”
“Thank you.”
“Your work would sell.”
“I’ve been gone too long to know.”
“It’s something you could do, something that wouldn’t require schooling or computer skills or any of those things you’ve missed over the years.”
He rubbed his knuckles against her cheek and she wondered how much of what she was saying had to do with considerations of his future and how much had to with her own selfish motives.
She wanted to keep him. Oh, she wanted to keep her wonderful wolfman.
“We can get you some art supplies,” she added. “I have a friend who owns a gallery in New York. I could send some photographs of your work up to her.”
When he didn’t say anything, she sighed. “I know, I’m moving far too fast. You haven’t even ventured out in public yet. Then there’s the matter of notifying your relatives and the press conference and.…”
A loud ringing interrupted her flow of words. Hannah picked up the receiver and said, “Hello.”
“Hannah.…” Her mother started to cry.
Hannah sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts as if she’d been caught red-handed.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” More sobbing. “Mom?”
Hunter sat up beside her and rubbed her shoulders. “What has happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know… Mom.…”
She heard muffled sounds, and then another voice. “Hannah.…”
“Oh my God… Daddy? Is that really you?”
“I can’t get your mom to stop crying.”
“Well, just hold onto her. She has lots of tears saved up.…” Hannah wiped at her own wet cheeks. “What happened? When did you wake up?”
“This morning. We wanted to call all of you sooner, but a team of doctors rushed in and put me through a battery of tests.”
“And?”
“I came through all of them with flying colors. It’s Anne I’m worried about.”
“Just let her cry it out, Dad. She’ll be all right when you get her back to Belle Rose… I can’t wait to see you.”
“Give us a few days alone first, okay?”
Envy pricked her. Hannah had to readjust her image of herself to include selfishness and jealousy. How could her parents love such a daughter?
“Sweetheart, I have to let you go. The physical therapist will be here soon and we want to call Emily and Daniel to let them know we’ll be home in a few days… God, that sounds so good.”
“‘Bye, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
“See you soon.”
As soon as she hung up the phone she collapsed against Hunter, and he enfolded her. It felt so good to have someone to hold on to. It felt so good not to have to be strong.
Chapter Thirty
December 7, 2001
How can a heart hold this much happiness? Michael’s back and I want to shout it to the moon. I want to run through the streets naked and yell at the top of my voice, “My beloved has returned. My husband has come home again.”
And he is home again. All the way.
I’ve heard of people who woke up out of comas disoriented. Some of them even with bits and pieces of memory missing. With whole sections of their past wiped out. With family members turned to complete strangers by their long journey into darkness.
But not Michael. He came back all the way. He came back like the cavalry with the flag flying. At full mast.
Oh, thank God, thank God.
When we got back to Belle Rose we locked the doors and took the phone off the hook.
“I’m glad you wore that party dress, Anne,” he said, and I told him, “I wore it just for you. To celebrate.”
“Let’s celebrate,” he said.
I told him, “I don’t want to wear you out.”
“I’ve been resting up for this. Wear me out, Annie.”
We spent our passion quickly, then lay in bed till dark holding each other.
Lord, I can’t stop touching him. I can’t stop looking at him.
Actually, I’m afraid to stop. I’m afraid he’ll slip back into a coma if I don’t keep watch.
That first night when he woke up and caught me staring, he didn’t say a word, just took me in his arms and held on. I was so relieved to discover that he’d actually been in a normal sleep instead of a coma that I started crying all over again.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, and my wonderful, intuitive Michael said, “That’s all right, darling. You’ve been strong long enough. It’s safe to cry now.”
I finally cried myself out, but I still haven’t been able to sleep. I still worry that Michael will fall back into that dark and scary sleep that held him captive for six months.
Six months can be an eternity. I suppose there are people who emerge from tragedy stronger and wiser. I don’t know if I’m one of those people. Maybe it’s too soon to tell.
I do know that I have a heightened awareness of each moment. Sometimes I think we become onlookers of our own lives. We are not truly present except in those times we consider special.
Now I see the webbed feet of ducks and the magic wings of bumblebees. I can tell the call of the cardinal from the song of a lark. I know the earth is made of the dust of fallen stars, and a single rose can hold truth in a fragrant cup.
It’s nearly midnight now, and I can’t make myself sleep. Except in the daytime when Michael’s awake and holding me in his arms.
From my window I can see Saturn and Jupiter vying for brilliance with a full moon. Michael woke up a little while ago and saw me sitting here.
“Anne?”
“Don’t get up, darling. I’m okay. I just want to record every precious moment since you woke up.”
He got up anyway, this wonderful, magnificent husband of mine. He held me for a while and kissed me, and then he went downstairs to make us some hot chocolate.
But before he left he said, “I’m not going anywhere, my precious.”
He’s as patient as a saint with me. Sometimes I wish he’d get mad. I wish he’d say, “You look like a sleepwalker. You’re going to ruin your health if you keep carrying on this way.”
That’s what Clarice said yesterday when she called and I told her what had been going on here.
It’s so normal, this quick sharp truth that pricks the skin without damaging the heart. I want to have that again with Michael. I want to wake up and be grouchy without worrying that he will be sorry he ever came out of the coma.
I want to grab a handful of my hair that went gray almost overnight and say, “This is all your fault.”
I want to shout at him, “You didn’t have to go to that mountain. You stole six months from me, from us.”
Maybe someday I can find a way to tell him, a gentle, loving way that won’t assign blame, a soft way that will allow me to empty the hurt so that I can truly heal.
Chapter Thirty-One
Michael was standing on the front steps of Belle Rose watching for Hannah’s car to come up the long, winding driveway. When she first spotted him, she cried.
She wiped the tears away with her left hand, and then started waving. He bounded down the steps and scooped her into a bear hug as soon as she opened the car door.
“Daddy, I can’t believe you’re finally home.”
“I can’t either. Let me look at you.”
He felt thinner, and he wore a nursing-home pallor, but his smile was still the same. His whole face lit up, making his eyes look as if they were dancing.
Hannah studied him for signs that part of her father might be missing. Maybe there was something he hadn’t wanted to tell her on the phone in front of her mother.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Daddy?”
“The doctors said yes, and I passed Anne’s tests with flying colors.” He chuckled. “You’re tougher than they are, though. I might not fare so well under your scrutiny.”
“Who was the first man to climb Mt. Everest? George Mallory or Sir Edmund Hillary?”
“Who?” he asked, and she might have panicked if she hadn’t seen his eyes twinkling. “You know what I always say, ‘It’s not who got there first, but who came back.’“
“I’m so thrilled you’re back.”
She hugged her father again and hung on. Anne came to the front door, and the minute Michael saw her, he bounded up the steps and wrapped his arm around her waist. She leaned into him and rubbed her cheek against his, and Hannah started to cry all over again.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” she said.
“It’s all right. Your mother cried for three days.”
“Two and a half. I’ll have you know my children now look upon me as a Rock of Gibraltar, Michael Westmoreland. I won’t have you ruining my reputation.”
“That’s not the way I plan to ruin your reputation, Mrs. Westmoreland.”
He bent down to kiss her, and Hannah slipped discreetly away. They were still kissing when she got inside the house. With their eyes glowing and their faces turned up to each other, they looked so young that Hannah’s heart ached.
She was seeing love at its finest. She was seeing two people who had loved each other from the moment they’d met, soul mates who had spent a lifetime living for and loving each other.
She thought of Hunter and the way he’d made love to her before she left…on the riverbank early this morning, the two of them wrapped together while the sunrise painted their skins pink and gold. Afterward, they’d raced through the woods and climbed into a hot tub in order to warm up.
She loved him. She’d known that for a long time. But would he ever love her? Would he ever feel as if his soul and hers had been created at exactly the same moment, and that the stars had decreed they should be one? Would she ever hear him say I love you?
“Hannah?” Her mother was standing in the doorway, alone. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s all right. Where’s Dad?”
“He’s gone around back to fire up the grill. I told him we’d fetch the steaks from the kitchen.”
“Steak? I didn’t expect such a feast.”
“Daniel and Skylar are coming.”
“So, the steak is for Daniel?”
Her mother did a double take until she saw Hannah struggling to control her laughter. Anne swatted her with the dishtowel.
“Make yourself useful. Start counting out the silver…for five.”
“What about Jake and Emily? “They won’t be here until tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry I’ll miss them.”
“You’re staying only today, then?”
“Yes.”
“Is it because of Hunter?”
Hannah felt the heat creep into her face, and Anne didn’t miss a thing. The steak pan clattered onto the table as she sank into a chair.
“Oh my Lord,” she said. “You’re in love with him.”
“How did you know?”
“It shows all over you… I should have guessed…all those times when I called and you sounded so…flushed.”
“Do you think Dad will notice anything? I don’t want to worry him with this.”
Anne pursed her lips, then set about rearranging the steak that had scattered across the pan.
“I won’t have you acting as if Michael is some kind of invalid. Do you hear me, Hannah?”
“It’s not that, Mom, it’s just… I don’t know.”
“I do. Just because your father has lost his tan and is not yet in shape to climb a mountain, you see him as diminished in other ways.”
Anne plopped the last steak into place and whirled toward Hannah with her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m here to tell you he’s not. He’s better than ever.” Now her own face got hot. “He’s still head of this household, and there will be no secrets.”
Relief flooded Hannah. “He’s really all right, isn’t he, Mom?”
“Yes.” Anne’s smile made her look like a thirty-year-old. “He’s better than all right. He’s magnificent…and he’s home.” Anne fanned her face with her right hand. “Oh Lord, look at me…getting ready to cry again. Michael’s going to get disgusted and wish he’d never come back.”
“Not a chance, Mom. If Hunter looked at me the way Dad looks at you, I’d own the world.”
“Doesn’t he love you, Hannah?”
Hannah remembered their leave-taking. I don’t want to leave you here alone, she’d told him, and he’d said, I won’t leave you.
Did that mean while she was in Belle Rose? Or forever?
“I don’t know,” she told her mother. “I don’t know if I ever will.”
“Give him some time, Hannah.” Anne handed her the pan of steaks. “Why don’t you carry these out to Michael?”
“I thought you were going, too.”
“I want to make the salads…by myself.”
Her mother was giving her an opportunity to talk to her dad alone. She leaned over and kissed Anne’s cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t hold anything back from him,” Anne called after her.
Outside Hannah paused for a moment to watch her father at the grill. It was such an ordinary sight, one she’d seen hundreds of times growing up, and it reassured her in ways that all her mother’s words could not.
He turned at the sound of her footsteps on the flagstone patio.
“There you are.” His smile faded as he looked beyond her. “Where’s Anne?”
“In the kitchen. She wanted to give us a chance to talk.”
“Shoot.” He tossed the steaks on the grill then turned to her. “I’m listening.”
And he was. From the moment Hannah told him about discovering a wolfman in the wilds of Alaska, she had Michael’s complete attention. More than that, she had the benefit of his wisdom and a blessed affirmation.
“You did the right thing, Hannah. To let him be captured like an animal would have been cruel. He would have fought, and possibly died.”
“I never thought of that…you’re right, Dad. He certainly would have fought. He’s fiercely proud and independent.”
“He sounds extraordinary. I’ll do everything I can to help him, Hannah.”
“Are you and Mom having an anniversary celebration?”
“Yes. Clarice wants to give a huge party, but Anne and I have decided we’ll keep it small this year. Only family.”
He smiled at her. “And Hunter, if you think he’s ready.”
“I think so. Dad, I don’t want the others to know. It won’t be a true test if they ma
ke allowances for him.”
“I agree.” Michael turned the steaks, then took a big swig of iced tea. “Once, when Anne brought steak to my room, I actually thought I was in my own backyard grilling. It was the smell, I think.”
The expression on his face told Hannah he was not looking at her but inward to a time and place none of them would ever fully comprehend.
“I’m glad it’s not too cold for this,” he added, and she said, “So am I.”
But she wasn’t thinking of backyard picnics; she was thinking of making love on the riverbank.
“I think you’re even more beautiful than when I last saw you.”
“What?” She gathered her rampaging thoughts. “I’m sorry, Dad. I wasn’t paying attention.”
He studied her in the intense way that always made Hannah and her siblings believe their father could read minds.
“Is there something else you want to tell me, Hannah?” She was getting ready to expose her heart, when Daniel and Skylar came onto the patio.
“Dad, I want you to meet my wife. This is Skylar.”
As Michael folded his son and the daughter-in-law he’d never seen into a tight embrace, Hannah thought how lucky she was. Both Daniel and Emily had gone through one of the major events of their lives without Michael…their weddings.
Though she had no desire for marriage and all the trappings, Hannah couldn’t imagine not being able to share the most incredible discovery of her life with the man she considered a cross between Solomon and Santa Claus.
There would be time for talk later. Anne joined her on the swing glider, and they watched while Daniel and his wife had their joyful reunion with Michael.
“I remember hearing your beautiful voice,” he was telling Skylar. “When Daniel told me he was going to marry you, I remember thinking that the woman with the voice of an angel was the perfect match for my son.”
“You were right, Dad. She is.”
Michael studied them both, then said, “I can see that.”
“Daniel and I were thinking that since you missed our first ceremony, we’d have another just for you.”
“What a wonderful idea.” Anne left the glider and slid her arm around Michael. “Don’t you think so, darling?”