The Husband Lesson

by Jeanie London

  The spare bag had been her idea. She used to pack it for him so he could swap out the clothes in his hospital locker. He still kept the bag in the car, always prepared, so he’d never get stuck without something clean and decent to wear. He wondered if she remembered.

  He did. She’d always left notes stuffed in odd places so he’d come across them unexpectedly. A pocket. A shoe. Cut-out hearts with their names. Notes that read: “Miss you.” Personalized stationary handwritten in her elegant script detailing what she wanted to do with him in bed—so bold that Charles remembered thinking it would be safer to chew and swallow them rather than risk a colleague coming across one.

  She called them love notes, so he wouldn’t forget how much she loved him no matter where he was.

  He’d forgotten.

  “What’s it going to be?” he asked.

  Her expression melted. Wistful, maybe. Not displeasure. That was something. Leaving her alone wasn’t an option.

  “I really appreciate you being here for me today, Charles. It was very nice of you, but you don’t have to worry—”

  “It wasn’t nice. It was selfish. I almost lost you. I didn’t know it would matter. It did.”

  There, he’d admitted it aloud, put the truth between them. There was nothing noble about it. He was simply being honest. Not avoiding how he felt. He was unclear about so many things, but not about being here. That much felt right.

  She stared at him in the soft light, that melting expression on her face, looking so beautiful, so damned beautiful, that he wanted to pull her close again, erase the past five years.

  He should never have given up on them.

  Why had he ever given up on them?

  “Charles, I…” Her words trailed off.

  He waited.

  “Charles.” She exhaled his name on a sigh, turned toward him and slipped her arms around his waist.

  For one blind second, he froze, the memory of the way she’d felt in his arms today assaulting him.

  Right.

  Resting her cheek against his chest, she gave another breathy sigh and eased against him. And he knew then that standing in his arms today had felt right to her, too.

  He knew.

  Then there was no more conflict, no more debate, no more confusion, nothing mattered now except that she’d come to him willingly, nothing mattered but the way she felt.

  So right.

  His arms came around her, anchored her. He inhaled the scent of her hair and remembered this feeling. The way he felt much stronger than he was. Human. Complex. Frail. One blade stroke to wipe out a life. But when he held her, he felt as if he could protect her against anything, the fears of the day, the hurts of the past. He held her and felt complete.

  Loved.

  He’d forgotten.

  Avoided.

  Because he remembered this feeling, had known he would never be whole without her. Not consciously, maybe, but inside where it counted. He knew the body, the physical intricacies and functions. But he did not know the heart, hadn’t comprehended his own capacity for self-preservation or self-deception.

  He sought and found her mouth with his, no longer able to resist. He wanted her, was through avoiding that truth.

  Her lips parted against his, so willing, the motion natural. Their breaths ebbed and flowed, the rhythm familiar. Their tongues met and he tasted her desire, knew that she wanted as much as he did.

  He swung her into his arms then. Her gasp of surprise broke against his mouth as she brought her arms around his neck to hang on. But she didn’t stop kissing him.

  Their tongues tangled and their breaths collided in a kiss with no beginning and no end. Awkward sometimes. Sensual always.

  He might avoid, but he could never forget.

  They crossed the threshold into the bedroom that had once been theirs, now a stranger in the moonlit darkness.

  But Karan wasn’t a stranger.

  And she was the only thing that mattered right now.

  The way she kissed him with such enthusiasm as if she’d waited forever for the chance. With gentle laughter when her mouth slid over his jaw as he turned to get through the door.

  With no inhibitions.

  No, he could never forget.

  Tomorrow would be there when they got to it. They could make sense of things then. Right now was a gift. And the only thing he cared about was the way she slid against him when he lowered her to her feet. The way she half turned and lifted her hair, presenting her back to him in a task he’d once performed by right.

  With unsteady fingers he dragged down her zipper, brushed aside the soft fabric so she could disengage her arms. The dress slipped to the floor with a whisper of silk. Her lingerie right behind it. She stepped lightly out of the puddle of fabric.

  And the only thing that mattered was the way she looked naked in the moonlight.

  He sank to the edge of the bed, muscles drained by the reality of her, unable to support him any longer.

  His hands, surgeon’s hands capable of such precision, traced her body, outlined each lustrous curve, remembered the supple feel of her skin.

  Her fingers grazed through his hair, a light touch, as tentative and awed as his own. He knew this woman, knew everything about her.

  His touch grew bolder. Trailing his hands up her thighs, he rounded her smooth bottom, pulled her close enough that he could drag his mouth across a nipple.

  A shiver coursed through her, and her fingers that had grazed now hung on for support. He pressed his face in that valley between her breasts, felt her heartbeat, her shallow breaths, her excitement.

  “Charles.” Another sigh.

  That sigh undid him. In a burst of motion, he ripped the shirt over his head, grateful for the scrubs that found their way onto the floor with speed.

  Then he caught her against him and pulled her down on the bed, stretched out in his arms, their legs gliding together, their mouths seeking, until he could feel her everywhere, remembered that only she had ever felt this way.

  Five years may have passed, but their bodies remembered, responded, because he knew her by heart.

  SOME BARELY SANE PART OF KARAN warned that the reality of tomorrow wouldn’t outweigh the excitement of tonight.

  But she had no will to resist when Charles pressed her onto the bed, didn’t care about anything except the chance to hold him again, to make the most of this moment together.

  She’d never expected to hold him again.

  Had never even dared to hope.

  But after these past weeks, after today…she would not miss this moment. She was through with distance, through with wasting any more time. She’d already wasted so much.

  And she knew exactly how to make this man burn. With hot kisses and bold caresses, until his arousal fueled her own.

  And when he finally coaxed his way between her thighs and sank deep, she could only gasp aloud, press her mouth to the base of his throat, feel his pulse throbbing hard. Her eyes fluttered open for an instant. She remembered this place, this sweet heat inside, this view of the world through the crook of his shoulders and neck, and how much she loved being here.

  And his every stroke bridged the distance between them until there was nothing in the world but him and her and the pleasure they made together. She could only meet him stroke for desperate stroke, his name tumbling from her lips as the pleasure welled up inside.

  But from someplace deep within, emotion rose alongside the pleasure with the same intensity, the same urgency, and when she heard Charles growl her name as his climax broke, she went over the edge with him. Those waves broke, one after another, not giving her a chance to catch her breath. Against her will, sighs of pleasure transformed into gut-wrenching sobs. She had no idea where they came from, no ability to resist, no strength to fight. She could only let them carry her away, the way the pleasure had.

  And poor Charles…some barely functioning part of her brain told her that he was wasted, too. But he knew she couldn’t stop, he knew. R
olling over, he took her with him, pulling the covers over them, sheltering her in his embrace, shielding her with his body, his strong arms her only anchor.

  She was being pulled inside out, but those sobs kept coming from someplace she didn’t even know she had, someplace she’d lost touch with long ago, washing her with tears, leaving her drained and so very weak.

  And through it all, Charles smoothed her hair and pressed his lips to her face and weathered the storm, skillfully handling all the emotion coming at him. He whispered throaty reassurances against her ear, words meant to comfort, although she couldn’t make out anything over her sobs. He held her until she finally stopped and all that was left was weakness.

  Darkness.

  Silence.

  And the man who held her.

  As Karan recovered, she felt nothing but overwhelming relief. As if everything that had been closed off had burst open wide. She was so weak, she could only press a kiss to Charles’s throat for his kindness, taste her tears on his skin. She wondered what he thought of that display, felt so bad to burden him during their only time together in so long.

  “I have no idea what happened,” she finally admitted, her voice the barest whisper.

  “Don’t you?” His voice was strong between them, such a welcome sound.

  There was no hiding from his question, from the truth of the way she felt in his arms, not now, not after that spectacular display.

  He shifted so she could snuggle closer, rested his chin on the top of her head in a position from long ago. “You asked me if there was someone I didn’t want to leave. I don’t think I wanted to leave my memories. All the plans we made. They were all I had left of us. It kept me from moving on.”

  “I gave up on us.”

  He rubbed his cheek against her head, his silky-rough beard tousling her hair. “Did you?”

  Karan considered the distance she’d placed between herself and Patrick, between herself and her emotions, between herself and life. No, she hadn’t given up on them, had just reconciled herself to a life without him. She may have moved on, but she hadn’t given up, had never allowed herself to replace him.

  She’d kept their house, had run away from it, had tried to scour it clean, but she’d always needed to know it was there.

  “No,” she admitted. “I didn’t.”

  “I know.”

  And those sweet words brought tears to her eyes again, but he kissed them away and held her close, his voice so certain. “I don’t want to lose you again. I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped.” He smoothed her hair from her face, such a tender touch. “I don’t know where we go from here, but it’s not over. We’re not over. I want to figure it out with you. Together.”

  She had no words in that moment. She didn’t have to tell him she loved him, because he already knew, so she tipped her face to his, and met his gaze, those liquid-dark eyes that had always sent a thrill through her.

  She kissed his mouth, showed him that she wanted nothing more than to figure things out with him. A promise.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHARLES APPLAUDED AFTER KARAN announced the senator, who kissed her cheek and took his place behind the podium of the makeshift stage the mayor had generously vacated. The American flag hung majestically and the entire park dripped red, white and blue in a patriotic display for the holiday celebration.

  The crowds quieted. All eyes riveted on the senator as he greeted the guests of the Fourth of July parade and began his speech that would—hopefully—plug his support for New Hope of Bluestone Mountain, Inc.

  Charles had eyes only for Karan. She’d retreated to the rear of the stage and appeared to listen intently as she stood beside the mayor, city manager and Jack. She looked beautiful in a simple tailored dress with a nautical theme with her hair pulled back from her face, her long legs bare. Charles was reminded of a similar scene from the first time he’d ever set eyes on her.

  “Well, would you look at that?” Rhonda whispered. “She does do something other than shop.”

  “And tan.” He remembered the comment he’d made the day Karan had arrived at New Hope.

  “Oh, she definitely tans. That sun-kissed glow takes work.”

  Charles couldn’t argue. He happened to know that sun-kissed glow covered every inch of smooth skin, every delicious inch.

  To their surprise, the senator did a lot more than plug New Hope. He announced a grant he intended to author that would aid children who had witnessed domestic violence. With both hands he seized the opportunity to campaign for a cause that would make him look good among both right and left.

  As Karan had no doubt known he would.

  The media would be all over his speech, and Charles, Rhonda and everyone else affiliated with New Hope could not have asked for better exposure. People applauded whenever the senator drove home an important point about expanding the Violence Against Women Act. Rhonda was so thrilled that she pumped a fist in the air and whistled loudly when he concluded.

  “Privilege is a very good thing when it’s put it to good use, don’t you think, Dr. Steinberg?” she asked.

  “I do indeed, Dr. Camden.”

  “I’m happy to see you two getting along, by the way.”

  Rhonda didn’t know the half of it—yet. No doubt she’d get the unabridged version the next time Karan went in for a session.

  “I’d give you more details, but I know you don’t like me to color your opinions.”

  She laughed, loud enough to be heard over the avalanche of applause as the senator left the stage. “I don’t think I need details. The sight of you two together… You beam, and I’m glad. That’s why I’m going to go out on a limb here and introduce you to someone you need to know. A colleague of mine who specializes in marital issues.”

  Charles inclined his head, more than willing to accept any recommendation from Rhonda. She accompanied him to collect Karan, and Charles’s pulse ramped up at the sight of her as she made her way off the stage to join them. Her eyes sparkled when she spotted him, and he marveled at how in the span of a few days, his entire life could change. From blurry to sharp focus. That fast. Because all the pieces were suddenly in place.

  He and Karan were committed.

  The rest they would figure out. Together.

  “The senator was amazing,” she said, slipping her hand into his, a subtle gesture of greeting, but one that gave him so much hope for their future together. “What did you think?”

  “He was generous,” Charles agreed.

  “I’ll vote for him,” Rhonda said, barely able to contain herself. She hugged Karan, then dragged them through the crowd to meet the someone they needed to know.

  His name was Joel. He was a friendly, unassuming man in private practice at Rhonda’s office. “We’ve worked together for years,” she explained. “I wanted to introduce you.”

  They met his wife and son, chatted about a recent trip to Alaska and the future of New Hope’s outreach programs before moving on to join the mayor and his wife at the shelter where they were guests. Rhonda obviously didn’t need details. She’d already assessed the need and addressed it.

  Karan didn’t miss a beat, either. “Can’t get anything past you, can we, Rhonda?”

  “It was the hand-holding. Dead giveaway. Even for someone without my special gifts.” She rolled her eyes.

  “So you’re saying there’s no need to pull my provider list for marriage counselors,” Charles said. “I should call and book an appointment with Joel.”

  “You should. He’s brilliant. Brilliant. Just take my word for it. I want to see you two keep beaming. I’m quite fond of you both.”

  “Beaming?” Karan lifted that sparkly gaze to him, surprised.

  He leaned close so only she could hear. “I love you. It shows.”

  KARAN FOUND HERSELF WITH A quiet moment in the nonstop excitement when Jack appeared at the shelter with the president of a regional civic organization to meet Charles and Rhonda about supporting New Hope.
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br />   She took their plates and stepped away to find a trash can, so they could discuss business without hanging on to the remnants of their meals.

  Then she hung back and waited for the right opportunity to insert herself into the conversation, enjoying a chance to catch her breath now the senator had left to salvage what he could of the family pinochle game.

  She couldn’t be more pleased with the way the picnic was turning out. The weather was temperate with a clear sky and mountain breeze. The town square was jam-packed. The event had garnered an amazing turnout.

  The senator was happy. The mayor was happy. Charles and Rhonda were happy.

  Karan was happy, too, almost giddy over all the changes happening in her life. She cautioned herself to take one step at a time, not to get too far ahead. But every time she looked at Charles… She couldn’t ever remember feeling this way, so hopeful about the future, so happy in the here and now.

  She was still standing there, caught up in her thoughts and her warm and fuzzy feelings when she saw a familiar figure approaching… “Mother.”

  Her mother smiled, looking entirely summer chic in a sleeveless pantsuit and wide-brimmed hat. “Karan, darling. How wonderful you look. I was hoping you’d stand still long enough for me to find you, otherwise I was going to send out a runner.”

  She tipped her cheek for a kiss and Karan obliged.

  “You’re here.”

  “Of course, the Ladies’ Guild always reserves a shelter. We sponsor Bluestone’s garden club, and they have a float in the parade. I’m sure you saw it—a large wooden cart with every blooming flower imaginable, and the garden club members, of course.”

  Not one word about disapproval. Not one word about disappointment. Not one word about broadcasting Karan’s entire sordid situation and embarrassing their family in front of all their friends and acquaintances.

  Her mother hadn’t been drinking before the Talbots’ party, so Karan was sure she must remember the exchange. For a moment she felt uncertain, then she remembered something Rhonda had said.

  Seems to me when we look to others to make us feel good about ourselves, we’re at the mercy of a lot of factors we don’t have any control over, that may or may not have anything to do with us.