Hugged By An Angel

by Capizzi, Roberta

  “I’m fine, Colin. You shouldn’t have come all the way in such a rush. I’d told Geraldine not to frighten you, but I guess she didn’t listen to me.”

  I shrugged. “She told me you’d only a broken leg, but I wanted to check on you myself. I can’t deny she scared the shit out of me, though.”

  She frowned, giving me a menacing glance, and I grinned. “Yeah, I know. Watch your mouth,” I added, before she could say it. “Geez, Gran, I’m thirty; you can stop scolding me for cursing, you know?”

  She giggled like a little girl, and I couldn’t stop myself from dreading the moment she’d be gone forever. This woman had been the most important presence in my life for fourteen years and I wasn’t ready to let her go. I didn’t think I would ever be.

  I shook the thought away when she took Kathleen’s hand again, saying goodbye and thanking her for coming to visit; then she opened her arms to me and I gave her a hug. Just before releasing me she whispered something in my ear and I flinched, pulling back in disbelief.

  “Gran!” I shouted with my mouth agape. She shrugged, unfazed.

  “Although you might not believe it I was young too, and I don’t think things have changed much over the years,” she said, as if it was the most normal conversation we’d ever had.

  “We’re leaving,” I said abruptly, ushering Kathleen out of the room with an arm around her waist. I could hear Gran giggling behind us.

  As soon as we’d moved away from her room Kathleen tapped my chest to catch my attention.

  “What did she say?” she asked timidly, clearly very curious to know. I shrugged, but she gave me one of those pleading looks that always won me over so I took a long deep breath and pondered the words.

  “She asked me to move the bed away from the wall and to keep the noise down,” I said, looking straight ahead of me. When she didn’t reply, I looked down at her and saw she was frowning. I couldn’t help but smile at the expression on her face. She was so innocent at times! “She said she doesn’t want the neighbors to hear the headboard banging all night and think she’s having a wild time.”

  This time the meaning reached her brain, and her cheeks turned a bright cherry red; she looked up at me with an astonished and very embarrassed look, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “See? What did I tell you about her? Not your ordinary cute old lady.”

  She nodded, her cheeks still flushed. “Does she really think we would…um…I mean…we would…in her house?”

  I chuckled and pulled her against my chest, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. I loved how she could be so shy and cute one minute and then really freaking sexy a minute later. It was something that managed to drive me wild.

  “Yeah, she does; and we don’t want to disappoint a poor old lady, do we?” I asked, winking at her. She snorted and pushed me away.

  “Forget it,” she said in a huff, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Yeah, as if I could forget what it was like being with her; just thinking of it made blood start rushing in my veins.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Kathleen

  August 4, 2012

  I’d never been up north before. I’d been west to Connemara and down to County Clare, since they were both close to Galway, and I’d gone as far south as Kerry when we were kids.

  As we left the hospital and drove through Sligo town and along the river I gazed around in wonder, thinking it looked like a nice place to live. Growing up in Galway I’d always loved cities near the water, be it a river or the sea and, unlike Dublin, Sligo seemed like a small, quiet town, where the people were laid back and enjoyed life.

  We took a road that ran along the coast and, as Colin said we had officially reached Rosses Point, I stared around in a sort of daze. It was a small coastal village that looked as if it had just stepped out of a fairytale. The warm sunny day made it look even more like the vacation spot it was supposed to be but there was more to it, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I almost expected a leprechaun or a pixie to cross the street. It was just…magical.

  “It’s just a small village, so don’t expect to see much more than this,” Colin said, breaking the silence and startling me out of my reveries. He laughed at my reaction. “Where were you?”

  “I was dazed. It looks just lovely,” I whispered, staring out the window as we passed small painted cottages with well-tended gardens, and the first docked boats came into sight. As we reached the top of the hill I could see the Atlantic Ocean in front of us and I rolled down the window, sticking out my head.

  “This is the golf club on the left, and that’s the biggest hotel in Rosses Point,” Colin said, but I was mesmerized by the view of the ocean and didn’t even turn to look. “That down there is the caravan park, where all tourists go camping,” he added, thinking that was what held my attention.

  “That sounds cool,” I said, turning back to look at him, “Have you ever been camping?” He shook his head and I grinned. “Then maybe one day we could come here and camp, just the two of us in the wild.” He laughed, and I followed suit, trying to picture us snuggled up in a small tent. It would be quite romantic.

  We followed the road that turned right after the caravan park and the golf club. I was mesmerized by the view and couldn’t tear my eyes off the dark blue rippling waves. I felt like jumping out of the car and running down the steep path that led to the pristine beach. I needed to feel the sand under my feet, the water lapping at my ankles.

  “Can we go to the beach?” I asked, turning to look at him. He raised an eyebrow.

  “How about we eat something first and then go to the beach? I don’t think I can function properly if I don’t put something inside my belly within the next fifteen minutes.”

  I chuckled, feeling my stomach grumble at the mention of food and nodded in response.

  We stopped and got out of the car and I looked at his grandmother’s house. I loved it. It was a one story semi-detached cottage; the garden ran around the front and one side of the house to the back, the grass was neatly trimmed and there were lovely rosebushes all around. Flowerbeds with pansies bordered the path that led to the porch.

  We walked in and he moved confidently around while I stood in the doorway, feeling a little like an intruder. This was his old life, the house he’d lived in when he left New York, where he grieved the loss of his parents and got used to a whole new way of living. Stepping through the door felt like taking a step into his past, into the things he still kept secretly stored in his heart. Being here felt a little like crossing an invisible border.

  “You can come in, you know. There’s no guard dog ready to bite your cute little ass,” he called from the kitchen down the corridor, “only a fat old cat that won’t eat anything but his tinned tuna.”

  I laughed and dropped my duffel bag next to the entrance, walking toward the kitchen. It was clean and cozy, in light pinewood with an old stove in the corner. The window above the sink looked out onto the back garden that had a tree in the center, a small tool shed in the far corner and more rosebushes along the white fence that divided the garden from the neighbors’. Colin opened cupboard doors, taking out mugs and pans, and when he opened the fridge and his shoulder brushed against me I snapped out of my musings.

  “You okay?” he asked, staring at me with a raised eyebrow, eggs in his hands. “You’ve been acting all weird since we got here. Did I say something wrong?”

  I shook my head and put on a reassuring smile. “I was just taking it all in. I was trying to imagine a young Colin running around in the garden.”

  He laughed and started cooking eggs while I poured boiling water into our mugs and fixed us some tea.

  We had breakfast and the fat old cat he’d mentioned earlier walked slowly into the kitchen, going straight to Colin for some cuddles. His fur was totally black, apart from a small spot of white on his forehead; he reminded me a little of the cat I’d had as a child.

  “How old is he?” I asked, looking at how gently and lovingly C
olin stroked the cat’s fur. For some reason the simple gesture stirred something inside my chest.

  “Fourteen. We found him in Gran’s garden a few weeks after I moved in. He must’ve been only a few weeks old; he was a tiny fur ball, skinny and frightened, and Gran decided to adopt him. She’d thought taking care of him would help me get over my grief, but I didn’t really care and totally ignored him for days.”

  I smiled, sympathetically; he shrugged and took a sip of tea.

  “Then, one day, I was taking a nap on the couch and when I woke up he was on top of me. I wanted to shoo him away but he licked my face, meowing and, I don’t know, that triggered something, a sort of protective instinct I’d never felt before. We became best buddies after that. That was when I officially named him Shaggy.”

  I tried to imagine a young Colin, heartbroken from recent tragedy, lying on the couch stroking a kitten’s fur. I wished I could’ve been there to hug him and make him feel better. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to look cheerful.

  “Why did you name it Shaggy? Where you a fan of Scooby-Doo or something?” I asked, and he looked at me with a grin, shaking his head.

  “He’d been rolling in the garden that day and his fur was all mussed, covered in grass and dirt, and I thought Shaggy sounded perfect. I couldn’t really name him Fluffy or any of those fancy names that would make me look like a sissy when I’d call him. Besides,” he said, looking at me with an amused expression on his face, “I didn’t think Gran would’ve been happy if I’d called him Crappy or Shitty, like I’d originally thought when she’d asked.”

  I laughed imagining this would have been really typical of Colin and the cat looked up at me, probably wondering if I’d gone crazy.

  “No, I think Shaggy sounds much better,” I said, bending down and extending my hand toward the cat. Shaggy turned to scrutinize my face, then sniffed my hand and started licking my fingers a moment later, making me giggle as his rough tongue tickled my skin.

  “Hey, you, that’s my girlfriend you’re licking. Paws off!” Colin said menacingly and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I never would’ve thought I’d have to compete with a cat.”

  The cat looked up at him almost with a scowl and then jumped up onto my lap, curling tight in a ball and resting his head on his paws. I stroked his fur and he started purring. This felt strangely cozy, like a sort of déjà-vu, as if we’d been a family in this kitchen all of our lives: Colin, myself, and the cat on my lap.

  “Sassy fur ball,” Colin said with a sneer, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I was quite enjoying this situation, with Colin being jealous of a cat—his cat.

  “There’s really no competition, Colin,” I said, stroking the soft fur and enjoying the light purring under my fingers. Colin gave a smug grin as he drained the contents of his mug. “He’s much softer than you and he purrs as a bonus, so he wins.” His grin faded in zero seconds straight; I had to force myself to keep a straight face, although I was dying to laugh at his reaction.

  “I can purr too, if you can overlook the softness issue,” he said seriously and came close, nuzzling my neck and making a soft roar in his throat. I giggled, and shook my head.

  “Sorry, he does it better,” I said, scratching the cat’s head just behind his ears. The purring intensified and I smiled at Colin. “See?”

  He gave me one of his heart-stopping grins, as he came close to my face. “Try scratching behind my ears too and I’ll show you how well I can purr,” he said in a husky tone, and this time I couldn’t keep from laughing out loud.

  “I can’t believe you’re jealous of your cat. Come on, you’re a grown man!” I said, stroking his cheek and brushing his lips with my thumb. “But you’re ridiculously sexy, you know?”

  His grin spread even wider and his dimples were so evident now I couldn’t stop myself from kissing them. He’d won the battle.

  He stood and, in a sudden and swift movement, scooped me up in his arms. The cat fell off my lap with a loud and annoyed meow and Colin laughed.

  “That’s what you get for trying to steal my girlfriend, you ungrateful flea bag!” Colin yelled but the cat barely noticed, curling up on the floor right under the table. Colin turned toward me, looking as triumphant as if he were the prince who’d just rescued the princess from the dragon.

  “Let me show you how sexy I can get when I purr,” he said, playfully waggling his eyebrows.

  “I thought we were going to the beach?” I asked, innocently batting my eyelashes.

  “The beach can wait, my hormones can’t,” he said seriously, walking out the kitchen and down the corridor while I kept giggling and holding onto his neck.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Colin

  August 4, 2012

  “Hey, where’re you goin’?” I asked, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her back against me. She wriggled, trying to break free, and I strengthened my grip, playfully nibbling her ear.

  “Colin, let me go!” she begged, and I bit her lobe again, moaning against her neck.

  “I can’t,” I whispered, her lobe still between my teeth, “I can’t breathe when you leave me.”

  “If you don’t let me get out of this bed within ten seconds you’ll have to sleep on a wet mattress,” she said and I chortled, releasing her from my hug.

  “Yeah, I think that’s a priority; go, but make it quick before I run out of air,” I said, pushing her out of the bed. She turned back to glare at me and I simply grinned, knowing she couldn’t resist my dimples. She shrugged and grabbed my t-shirt, pulling it over her head, then ran out toward the bathroom. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling in pure bliss.

  How had I ever been able to live all of my thirty years without her? And was it even possible that I’d never known making love could be so good and so damn addictive?

  After I’d checked Gran was okay, I’d been able to relax. When Kathleen had started the banter about me competing with the cat I’d realized the beach would have to wait. It was amazing how easily she could turn me on; a stare, a smile, a word and my hormones would go wild and I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her. This afternoon hadn’t been any different, and I wondered if it’d always be like this, if I’d always be so addicted to her. To say it had been amazing would be an understatement, and I was still replaying it all in my mind and remembering every emotion, every breath, every movement, when she came back into the room.

  Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she looked gorgeous in my t-shirt that was at least three sizes too big. I loved it when she used my clothing as nightgowns. I loved smelling the fruity scent of her body lotions left on the fabric afterwards; it reminded me of her skin. She’d started leaving her pajamas at home when she spent the night at my place now, firstly because they’d end up on the floor approximately two minutes after she’d put them on, but mostly because she loved wearing my t-shirts; she had chosen my red Knicks t-shirt as her favorite, and I’d let it become her official pajamas when she stayed over.

  I snapped out of the daydream when she climbed back onto the mattress, crawling like a cat, and kissed my brow.

  “Can we go to the beach now?” she asked and I nodded, although I wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of my life in that bed with her.

  We walked down to the beach and spent over an hour strolling hand in hand or chasing each other along the shoreline. I loved the way she got excited about little things, especially since she’d started walking again. She’d been the breath of fresh air I’d needed in my life for fourteen years, the only trigger that had managed to bring out the happy, carefree guy locked up inside my soul who I’d never allowed to break free in the past.

  As I watched her getting her feet wet and squealing at the temperature of the water, I imagined our kids playing on this same beach with her.

  Our kids?

  When had I ever fantasized about having kids? My stomach did a back flip, and I felt something stir inside as I imagined brown-haired toddlers with b
ig blue eyes chasing after their mother, giggling and squealing in delight. I imagined how beautiful Kathleen would look with a tiny bump where her belly was, and how good my hand would feel on it when our baby moved. I imagined standing next to her in the delivery room, letting her squeeze my hand while I reminded her to breathe and push. I saw myself holding a little bundle with rosy cheeks and her same beautiful lips and tiny nose, and my breath stuttered in my throat. What the hell had she done to me? I’d been dating her for five months, two of which we had spent apart, and I was already fantasizing about having her babies? This was totally insane.

  I took out the phone to check on Gran and let her know we’d visit in an hour; I suddenly needed to keep my mind busy with something else. She told me the doctor had been there and said she’d be released tomorrow. She would have to wear a cast for at least a month and then they’d take it from there. I decided to believe her for now although I was determined to speak to the doctor tomorrow, just to make sure she hadn’t deliberately left out some parts so I wouldn’t worry.

  After a warm shower we changed into clean clothes and I took Kathleen to a lovely Italian bistro in Sligo town for dinner. The restaurant quarter could be quite romantic at night, with the streetlights blazing and the river singing its quiet song. I was sure she’d love it, and I was right.

  We strolled along the river down Rockwood Parade after dinner, crossed the wooden bridge and stopped in the middle to look down at the dark waters flowing underneath. Kathleen leaned against the railing and stared down at the river and I hugged her from behind, resting my chin on the top of her head.

  “This is beautiful,” she whispered, before letting out a breath of pure contentment. “This is so romantic; thank you for bringing me here tonight. I really love this town.”