The body that had completely possessed his mind for the last week.
“You are so – so beautiful,” he told her.
And something in his voice touched somewhere deep in Aisling, and she found herself brimming with confidence – the kind of confidence she had never felt with her husband.
Now she moved towards Jameson. Her trembling hands lifted the sweatshirt up over his tanned, hard chest and then she laughed as she dragged it over his unruly, thick hair.
Then, he drew her close to him, and she could feel the heat from his skin against the cool softness of her naked breasts.
Then it was Aisling who took his hand and led him towards the big, carved wooden bed, where they finished undressing each other between slow and ever-deepening kisses.
Jameson stopped at one point, and his eyes looked deep into hers.
“I want you so much, Aisling – much more than I ever knew a man could want a woman. I’ve wanted you so much, it hurts.” His voice was low “But I need to know you are okay about this . . .”
Aisling put a hand on either side of his handsome, worried-looking face. “Listen, Mr Jameson Carroll,” she told him as though he were one of her pupils, “the only regret I will have – is if this thing doesn’t happen between us.” Her tone was suddenly more serious. “I came over here this morning, because I’m afraid of throwing this wonderful thing away. I’m afraid of never knowing you properly. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened in my life – and I am not going to spend the rest of my life wishing I’d been braver.”
“Oh, Aisling – Aisling Gayle,” he whispered now. “I can’t believe that something this good has happened to me. I never expected to feel this strongly about a woman . . . I’ve never, ever felt it this way before.”
And when he lay her back on the patchwork quilt to move his hands over her body, she felt a hot rush of wanting that she had never experienced before. She marvelled that he had such smooth, fine hands for a man – and not only sensitive hands but a deep and sensitive nature, too. So different from the cold, defensive exterior he had shown when they first met.
He now moved his lips along the same route that his hands had taken, until she felt every single nerve in her body jump to alertness. When his mouth finally found hers again, it was hotter and rougher this time and his tongue was searching. And then she suddenly felt his hardness lower down, moving heavily against her stomach and thighs. And when he finally positioned himself to move within her, Aisling Gayle did not feel or show the slightest resistance.
Her body arched high to meet his until he was deep inside her. And then they moved together in a rhythm so natural and easy that they could have been lovers from a long way back. She felt herself respond with an eagerness she had never thought she was capable of. But then, she had never imagined wanting someone desperately the way her body now wanted him.
And the deep pleasure she had never imagined continued until suddenly her whole body started to soar like one of the rockets in the sky – and Jameson held her there, at a peak she had never known before, for one ecstatic moment after another.
And then – when he could hold back no longer – he joined her at that pinnacle, pouring every last drop of himself inside her.
For what seemed like an age, there was not a sound in the large white house, apart from their breathing as it eventually slowed down and returned to normal.
Jameson reached a hand to smooth Aisling’s hair and then he gently touched her face. “You realise that I love you? Really, really love you?”
His question demanded no answer, no commitment – nothing. It was simply a statement, a fact.
And when Aisling’s eyes met his, there was no need for words to give an answer, for he could see the love shining from them. Instead, she lifted her head from the pillow to once again seek his lips. And then they clung together as though nothing in the world would ever come between them.
* * *
By the time that Thomas had come down for breakfast, his father was teaching Aisling how to make pancakes, American-style – although teaching her in a very light-hearted, messing-about sort of way. Thomas was delighted to see her, and in his innocence, never questioned the fact of having such an early morning visitor. He immediately joined in the spirit of the morning, searching out a selection of syrups and spreads to accompany the pancakes. Then together the three of them sat at the table as though they were used to having breakfast in this way every morning.
“I’ll clear up,” Thomas said, thumbing towards the sink. “You two cooked, so it’s only fair.”
“Okay, buddy,” Jameson said, throwing an arm around his son. “I won’t argue with that! We’ll take our coffee out onto the deck, and leave you solely in charge.”
The boy immediately draped a clean tea-towel over one shoulder, in the fashion of a busy kitchen hand, and set about collecting up the used crockery
When they had settled themselves outside, Jameson turned to Aisling “What about the rest of the day?” he asked anxiously. “Do you have to go back?”
“No problem,” Aisling said with a smile. “I’ve already sorted things out with Jean. She won’t mind what I do for the next few days.”
“Really?” he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Does she know about . . .”
Aisling nodded, blushing slightly. “Yes . . . I didn’t really have to tell her. She’d worked it all out by herself.”
“What did she reckon to it?” he said quietly.
Aisling shrugged. “She was very understanding. We talked a lot yesterday about my situation back home and everything . . . and she understands.”
Jameson looked over his shoulder, checking that Thomas was still occupied in the kitchen and then he moved behind Aisling’s wooden deckchair and wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled his face in her neck. “I’m glad we have some real time together. Since meeting you, everything else just seems a waste of time.”
Aisling rested her head on his arms, and they both sat looking over the lake.
“I know I’m a bore saying this again and again,” Jameson whispered, “but I really do love you, Aisling Gayle – with all my heart.”
“And I, Jameson Carroll,” Aisling whispered back, “love you, too. And whatever happens now – happens.”
Chapter 26
Aisling called back over to Harpers’ house later in the morning. Jean was busy pottering around with her indoor plants and Bruce was outside in shorts and a hat, working with the hose in the garden. Each greeted her with smiling faces, telling her that her mother and father had rung to let them know that they were safely in the hands of Declan’s cousin. Then, they offered to drive her to the shops or to sightsee, but she thanked them both and declined. Over another cup of coffee, she told Jean that she had gone across early in the morning to see Jameson.
The older woman smiled and patted Aisling’s hand. “As I said yesterday, honey, we only have one life. We’re here if you want us, but Bruce and I won’t interfere with any plans you have for the next few days. As far as we’re concerned, you’re down by the lake reading and swimming, or taking a walk.” She shrugged. “The less we actually know, the easier it is all round. I can’t tell your folks anything I don’t know.”
“Oh, Jean,” Aisling said, her eyes shining with emotion, “I don’t know how to thank you –”
“Just be happy, Aisling,” Jean said. “That’s all the thanks I want. The older you get, the more unhappiness you see around you, and I reckon a lot of it is people regretting missed opportunities.” She took a sip of her coffee. “At least I won’t feel that, and neither will you.” She tilted her head, a thoughtful look on her face. “You know I had it real difficult when I wrote home and told them I was seeing Bruce? According to everyone, he was too old, had been married before, wasn’t a Catholic, and worst of all – he was American!” She gave a roar of laughter. “How absolutely dreadful – having someone in the family who was married to an American.” Then she looked serious again. “My
parents who objected are long dead, Aisling, and after all this time nobody else really gives a damn.”
“What about my mother?” Aisling asked curiously.
“Oh, your mother didn’t approve, that’s for sure,” Jean said, a resigned look in her eyes, “but it was the way we were brought up, and she always took her religion very, very seriously. She’s always been afraid of the Church.”
“And what about your own religious views?” Aisling asked.
Jean shrugged. “Oh, I have strong enough beliefs in God and all that kind of thing, but I always believed that it was people’s behaviour towards others that counted more. It’s no good kneeling in church counting rosary beads night after night, or wearing sackcloth and ashes if you’re real mean to people. I think Jesus would have wanted us to follow his example by not judging other folks.”
“You must have had real courage to go against everyone,” Aisling said.
“I’m not real sure what made me brave enough to break the mould, honey – but I think it was love.” She rolled her eyes, laughing. “I bet you’re shocked at the thought of an older woman like me talking about love.”
“No,” Aisling said, “I think it’s lovely . . . I really do.”
“Well,” Jean shrugged, “that’s the way it is, honey. Having said all that, your mom and Bruce get on real well now . . . so, what the heck. I don’t hold any grudges. As I said, time changes everything.”
“You’re right,” Aisling said, smiling. “What the heck!”
After freshening up and changing, Aisling made her way back over to Jameson’s house, and they spent the rest of the day there, swimming, talking and enjoying doing just ordinary things together. Thomas was with them for most of the time, and several times Aisling caught herself shaking her head in wonder at the easy way she had slipped into their lives.
“Da-ad?” Thomas said, as they headed back into the house for a chicken salad Jameson had organised. “Shall I put out – paints for the Saturday group later?”
Jameson stopped in his tracks. “Saturday?” he repeated, his brow creasing in confusion. “Holy shit!” he said, slapping his palm to his forehead. “I’d completely forgotten . . .” Then, he turned to Thomas, smiling. “Yeah – okay. Thanks for reminding me. You can put the stuff out after we’ve eaten.”
“I’d better wash – hands first,” Thomas said, racing on ahead.
“I’m really sorry,” Jameson said to Aisling. “I have a painting session tomorrow with some of the kids from Thomas’s school. The last one for the summer should have been last week, but I cancelled it because of the wedding, and swapped it for this week. Do you mind having a bunch of teenagers around in the morning?”
“No,” Aisling said, an amused grin spreading on her face. “In fact I’d be delighted.”
“What’s so funny?” Jameson said, putting his arm around her.
Aisling leaned her head on his shoulder. “You got a phone call about that last week when I was here, didn’t you? From someone called Melanie?”
Jameson thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he nodded vaguely, “I did – but I’d completely forgotten about it with everything . . .”
Aisling rolled her eyes in amusement. “I thought . . .” she giggled like a schoolgirl, “I actually thought you were arranging a date with a woman . . . and I felt . . .”
“What?” he said, looking curious. “What did you feel?”
Aisling’s cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. “Oh . . . it was stupid. I suppose I felt . . . sort of . . . jealous. I felt you were this stranger with a mysterious life I knew nothing about.”
“I hope I’m not a big disappointment,” Jameson laughed, “because instead of illicit dates, all I’m doing is splashing a bit of paint around the studio with some kids.”
“I can assure you that I’m not a bit disappointed,” Aisling said, squeezing his arm. “You’re much more interesting than I could ever have imagined . . .” Then her voice dropped. “I suppose my natural instinct is to expect other women to be in the picture . . . living with Oliver for so long.”
Jameson pulled her towards him, and tenderly took her face between his hands. “Never,” he said, “as long as there is a chance for us to be together, will there ever be another woman.” He kissed her lips. “There will never be another woman who will make me feel the way I feel when I’m with you, Aisling.”
“It’s really weird how things have turned out,” Aisling whispered. “I was nearly afraid of you when we first met – when I dropped all those parcels.”
His eyebrows raised in a question. “You mean the little lingerie parcels?”
Aisling looked at him, her face colouring up again. “So you did know what was in the parcels?”
He grinned. “It didn’t take a genius to work it out,” he said. “It had the name of the shop on the wrapping paper, and anyway – everyone round here knows that shop.”
“Oh, God!” Aisling said, laughing again. “I was so embarrassed when I met you that day – what with that lunatic following me around and everything – and then I went and dropped my parcels. I nearly died, but I just hoped you hadn’t spotted the name of the lingerie shop!”
“Well,” he whispered now, “if the little lacy things you wore this morning happened to come from one of those packages, then I have to be glad you paid the shop a visit that day!”
Aisling prodded his chest in her best schoolteacher manner. “You weren’t so funny that day, Mr Carroll – you were anything but funny. In fact, you had an extremely high-handed manner.”
“Oh, Aisling,” he said, looking contrite, “if you knew the number of people that speak to me when I’m with Thomas – the number of do-gooder types who approach me, just to let me know that they don’t really think he’s some kind of freak . . .” His voice cracked a little. “I’m really sorry that I treated you like them . . .” Then, he gathered her into his arms. “I nearly made the biggest mistake of my life – I could have easily missed getting to know you. It frightens me when I think of it – all these lovely days we might never have had.”
“I’m only codding you,” Aisling said gently. “I don’t care how we met – in fact we owe it to that weird fellow who was following me – otherwise we’d probably have never met.”
“No, “ Jameson said, ruffling her hair, “I reckon we’ll let Thomas have the credit for that.”
The day passed into evening, and after another brief visit over to Harper’s, Aisling came back to spend her first full night at Jameson’s house.
Thomas headed up to bed around nine o’clock in preparation for the art class in the morning, and Aisling and Jameson were left on their own. Since the evening was still warm, they sat out on the floodlit deck drinking cold beer and eating salted pretzels and crackers and cheese.
“I love this,” Aisling told him with a lazy, contented smile. “I’ve never had any man prepare lunch and supper for me before. I could quite easily take to this way of life.”
“I’d happily fix us lunch and supper every day for the rest of my life,” Jameson told her in a low voice. Then he looked at her for a few moments, his eyes narrowed. “Tell me you’re not going back to Ireland, Aisling.”
Aisling ran a hand through her hair, turning her gaze away from him. “I have to, Jameson. I don’t want to – but I have to go back.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice rising. “Why do you have to go back to Ireland? It just doesn’t make any sense. You told me earlier you didn’t love your husband.”
“This isn’t just about Oliver,” she said. “It’s all so complicated . . . I have commitments – school and family and friends. I can’t just not go back.” She bit her lip. “I don’t want to go back to Ireland – and I don’t want to go back to Oliver, but – ”
“Jesus, Aisling!” he said now, his voice cracking. “I can’t even bear you mentioning his fucking name! I feel so jealous and angry that you’re married to that guy – especially when he’s someone who doesn’t deserve you.”
“Please leave it,” Aisling said, putting a finger to his lips to silence his words. “Not tonight. We can talk about things like that later . . . but not tonight.” She put her glass on the wooden table, and then reached to take the glass from his hand. Then, she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I have a much better idea for tonight.”
Chapter 27
Aisling woke early in the morning, hardly able to believe that she had spent the whole night with this American man in his high, dark wooden bed – this American man who was a stranger only a short time ago. She turned towards him and gently ran her fingers over the back of his neck, and then traced a path down the outline of his spine. When she reached the lower part of his back, he suddenly turned around and playfully pulled her into his arms.
“I thought you were still asleep – you cheat!” she giggled, pretending to struggle.
But Jameson merely laughed and pulled her closer, burying her protests in his warm chest. Then, just before the new day dawned – they made slow, glorious love once again.
Later, as they lay in each other’s arms, Jameson turned towards her. “Surely, there’s some excuse we could find, for you not going back just yet?” His eyes raised to the ceiling, as though searching for an answer. “What about if you were to say you were sick or something? You could stay on for another month – I’ll buy you another ticket
Aisling was silent for a few moments. “It wouldn’t work,” she said quietly. “If I said I was ill, my parents would stay on with me. They would never go back home to Ireland without me. And anyway, there’s school. I have to go back for work.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, determination written all over his tanned face. “Look, what if you just tell them everything? Explain it all to your parents – tell them you’ve decided to stay on here. Phone your . . .” he halted, choking on the word, “your husband . . . and phone the school. Just tell them you’re not coming back.”
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