Song of Life

by C. L. McCullough

  Now he was home, and it wasn’t that late, but Sunny was in bed and God only knew what she was thinking. Or feeling. The thought bothered him so much that he hurried through his shower, sacrificing sustained hot water massage for his abused muscles so he could be with her sooner. He had a lot of talking to do. He, who for years had kept his thoughts and emotions to himself. What was it about this town and its inhabitants that had opened him up, destroyed his defenses?

  He mulled it over while he dried himself, and came to no conclusion that satisfied him. Except that he’d been at a place in his development where he’d been ready. The frightened, angry teenager he had been grew into a man while walking the roads of America. Consciously he might have clung to the mantra that had ruled his life–run or be destroyed–but something inside knew it was time to put down roots and take a stand. Nevis was the place, now was the time, and the people, especially Sunny, had given him no other option. He still didn’t know why, but he accepted that it was so.

  He walked naked into the bedroom. Sunny was asleep, restlessly so, as if she had dozed off against her will. The small bedside lamp burned dimly, the glow through its pink shade turning her hair rosy gold, flushing her skin delicately. He stood beside the bed and watched her for a short time, feeling an unaccustomed fullness in his chest, as if his heart was so full of love it had spread to every corner of him. He reached out, then sighed and decided to let her sleep.

  He circled the bed, climbed in the other side carefully, trying not to disturb her, but he hissed involuntarily as his back protested an injudicious move.

  “Cas?” Sunny’s voice was hoarse with sleep.

  “Shhh–it’s me, I’m back.”

  “Are you really?” Her voice sounded more alert as she turned toward him, trying to interpret his expression.

  “I’ve talked with Father Yuri. Did you set him on me?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Sunny replied stiffly, “but he’s been wanting to talk with you. It’s what he does, Cas, and he doesn’t need me to tell him to do the right thing.”

  “I didn’t mean…” Cas sighed. “You’ve got every right to be mad at me. I’ve acted like a fool.”

  “Darlin’, I wouldn’t go that far. You regressed, that’s all. Have you come back?”

  He reached for her. The sheet rustled as she slid willingly toward him. The warmth of her rose up around him as he pulled the covers down, the heated scent of Sunny and the citrus soap she used. She was as naked as he. They had both taken to sleeping nude, enjoying the feel of skin against skin even in the most casual of touches.

  “Will you take me back?” Cas asked, only half joking.

  “I never pushed you away,” she answered simply. “I tried to understand and I just waited. Father Yuri helped with that too.”

  He slid down, wrapping one arm around her waist, laying his head on her breast.

  “I almost killed a man,” he told her, his voice low. “It was eating at me, the thought that I had my father in me. And the money…” He tilted his head to look into her eyes. “I’ve come to a few decisions. I hope they’re okay with you, but it’s the way I have to do it. No matter what you say about whitewashing the money, I can’t live the rest of my life on my father’s back… That isn’t exactly what I mean, but I want no reminders of him around.”

  “I’ll let you know if I don’t approve,” she said, smiling slightly. “Don’t I always? What have you decided?”

  He snuggled his head down. “I want to bring my mother here, to bury her here.” He watched his hand explore Sunny’s belly. The feel of her, instead of being a distraction, helped to concentrate his thoughts. “And that’ll take money. So, despite my feelings about it, I’ll take whatever’s there. It’s like I said, he may have left it all to God knows what. I’ll take what I need and put the rest in some sort of trust or something. The lawyers can figure that out and who to give it to.”

  “It feels right, bringing your mama here. Here is where you are, and she’d want to be with you. It’s horrible what happened, all of it. One thing though–your mama didn’t desert you. She loved you. She was going to take you away from him and she died trying to protect you. You can be proud of your mama, and I’ll be proud to add her to my family.”

  He moved up to a breast, softly fingering the nipple.

  “I called Duncan. I don’t know his uncle, so I went through Duncan. You might think I should have talked it over with you first, but I wanted to get the ball rolling.”

  “What have you done?” Sunny asked quietly.

  “I’m afraid I’ve stolen your lawyer.” He grinned against her skin. “He’s going to figure a way to get at that bank account my father set up to frame me, just in case I have no claim on the bastard’s estate, and he’s going to fly out there, with my written authority, and see what’s what. As soon as they find her, he’ll call me. I’m going out there to bring her home and I’d like for you to come with me.”

  “You know I will. We’ll find the money somehow. I know…I can sell the house now. It’ll take time with your mother anyway, won’t it? What with the paperwork and all.”

  “Don’t sell it, Sunny. Let me work on it, bring it back to life. I want us to live there, you and me.”

  “Cas…”

  “It’s a house made to be lived in. He pressed his lips against the tender skin under her jaw. “It pulled me in the first time I walked through it. It’s crying out for some attention and I can give it, make it a real showplace. But it’ll take you to make it a home.”

  “You’ve been thinking about this.” Sunny sounded surprised.

  “I don’t want to live the rest of my life surrounded by strangers. I know, I know, I’d gotten into the habit of solitude the way I was living, but I think I’d feel the same way no matter what. I want a place of my own, something I can put my stamp on.”

  He raised his head, excited. “I’ll buy it from you. As is. The money will be yours, to do with as you like, and I’ll have my house.”

  “You don’t have to buy it. I don’t want you to. I don’t want your money.”

  “I don’t either, but there you go, we’re stuck with it. It’s best this way. This way it’ll truly be mine. I’ve never had anything before, and now I’ll have my own land. Isn’t there a fairly large field goes with it? And is the brook on the property?”

  Sunny’s arms tightened around him. Suddenly she laughed. “Anything that can make you this happy…let the chips fall where they may.”

  “Doesn’t make me as happy as you do.” He kissed along her jaw to the corner of her mouth. “Nothing makes me as happy as you do.” With his tongue, he caressed her lower lip. “All the land in the world, all the houses, couldn’t make me as happy as you do.”

  He covered her mouth with his, open and hot.

  * * * *

  “But Duncan…” Sunny said weakly when she could.

  “I trust the Duncans to handle it,” Cas said, sounding disinterested. He rolled on top of her, his warmth and weight pushing her body into the mattress. His hardness teased ; her legs involuntarily spread for him. She grasped his buttocks, feeling the raised hardness of his scars, and pulled him into her.

  “Welcome home,” Sunny groaned, and couldn’t have said if she meant Cas, his mother or his straining cock. It didn’t matter, they were all welcome and this was home. There were still many decisions to make, things to settle, but they would do it together. Father Yuri was right, God did work in mysterious ways. The love they had found made the bad times they had both gone through worth it, and perhaps it could have happened no other way.

  As he took her soaring, she had only one coherent thought that repeated over and over again and finally burst out in words. “I love you, Cas Martin, I love you.”

  He pulled her tighter to him, burying his face in her neck. They rested quietly, enjoying the post coital closeness, until Cas shifted his weight and arranged Sunny next to him with her head on his shoulder.

  “Father Yuri was in love once,”
he said casually.

  “Most people are at least once in their lifetimes,” Sunny replied, snuggling closer to him. “I’m surprised he mentioned it though.”

  “It was a warning about pushing people away, like I was doing to you.” His arm tightened. “Don’t let me do that again. He said it’d probably happen again. I’ll expect you to pull me out of it.”

  Sunny snorted a laugh. “Carte blanche to nag. I’m a happy woman.”

  She could feel his chest quiver as he laughed. “I guess I’ve done it now, but I know how to shut you up.” He tipped her head up and his mouth covered hers in a cheerful kiss that comforted at the same time.

  “What else did Father Yuri say?” she asked as she nestled her head on his shoulder.

  “We talked about singing,” Cas answered uncomfortably.

  “That still bothers you?” Sunny raised up on one elbow so she could see his face. “I thought…” She gave him a hard look and waited for his response.

  He shrugged. “Every time I think of singing, I sort of look over my shoulder, waiting for the punishment. I know he’s dead,” he said, “and you won’t catch me regretting that. I guess it all boils down to it being hard to shed the past. My ass hurts when I think of singing,” he added.

  Sunny sat up and looked down at him, her expression serious. “The Father’s right. You have to sing. My God, your voice is glorious.” She reached out and stroked his cheek. “You have to change your thinking. Instead of remembering the punishment, think of it as honoring your mother. Oh Lord, wouldn’t she be proud of you. And she’ll be here to watch over you and encourage you. You know it’s what she would want. How could she not? She was a singer herself. She would have been so proud to know you inherited her talent, you know she would. What you have to do is concentrate on her and her love, not your father and his hate.”

  “You’re a positive person, Sunny.” Cas drew her down beside him. “And you’re right. I’ll practice. We’ll practice. I’ll sing you love songs.” He laughed. “You’ll be sorry you encouraged me.”

  “Somehow I don’t think so,” she said. “I see good times ahead, if we’re only honest with each other. That’s the key for me, honesty and the willingness to talk things out.”

  “Real men don’t talk,” he said.

  “This real man better,” Sunny threatened, “or I’ll sic Father Yuri on you.”

  “Turn out the light.” Cas smiled. “And let me tell you why you’re the woman for me.”

  “Oh, show and tell,” she teased as darkness settled around them.

  Cas’s voice was a low rumble, his body warm against hers.

  She was content. With honesty and commitment whatever problems the future might hold could be overcome.

  Honesty, commitment, and a deep, abiding love that would last to the end of their days.

  Epilogue

  It had been a good year for nectar. Thistle and cornflower blossoms painted the earth purple and scarlet; milkweed edged the kaleidoscope of color, white foam on the breaking waves of beauty. The butterfly was almost drunk from overindulgence, flitting here and there, never pausing for long before she had to be up and doing again.

  Humans called her kind ‘Diana fritillary’, but she knew nothing of this or why it should be so. Her dramatic coloring was very different from the usual Appalachian butterflies. The deep matte black of her body and wings, outlined with pale mauve and orange, guaranteed admiration from human kind and unwanted attention from would be predators.

  Today she wasn’t worried about predators. Today she was drunk on life and nectar. She could feel her time coming; soon she would mate with a male of her species and together they would ensure the continuance of their kind.

  She rose high in the air where she was caught by a gentle breeze and carried to another meadow, another butterfly paradise. This new meadow was different. There were strange animals in it, very many of them, grouped together on a rise of land in a loose semi-circle.

  She fluttered down to investigate.

  A large area of black in splendid isolation attracted her attention, but it was not the females of her kind as she had expected. She moved around it to investigate further and found herself drawn toward a metallic gold gleam in the midst of all that black. A large hand brushed her gently away and the sound of a voice hastened her flight.

  “We gather here today to honor a great lady, a brave lady. Kathryn Elizabeth Martin was a mother first. Nothing was more important to her than her son. For his safety she sought a new life for them both and lost her life in the attempt.

  “That bridge down there, that people have taken to calling Cas’s Bridge, should be renamed Kathryn’s Bridge, I think. For it symbolizes, as she does, the connection between past and present. The solid, very real connection that love gives.

  “She will be residing among us now, here on this hill, in the mountains that her son loves. A symbol of love and proof that the truth cannot be hidden for long. She gave her son life and sought to preserve it; she gave her son music and the voice to sing it, although for too many years it was lost. Last of all, she gave her son hope, because he was not forgotten, he was not abandoned, he was not thrown away and denied her love. It was all taken from him.

  “She will live with us now, a part of this town, a part of these mountains. We must treasure her, this brave lady, for her dream for her son has come true. I know this is so. He stands before you now, a man who has come to terms with his past, a man who values the gifts God has given him, and a man who loves his mother. Cas?”

  The butterfly understood none of this. It was all incomprehensible sound to her. Drifting down to a particularly succulent looking thistle, she was distracted by another glint of gold. With butterfly curiosity and a bottomless hunger, she changed her course. Golden blooms gave the sweetest nectar.

  The butterfly was filled with disappointment, if such an emotion even existed in her world. Instead of soft petals and delicious nectar, there was cold metal in a strange shape. This was a female of her kind, butterfly instinct advised, and exploration revealed she seemed to be leaking water. Another glint of color, the gold that first attracted her to this field, but it encircled a finger on a small hand and had nothing to offer a butterfly. The female clung to the tall one next to her, until the tall one put his face to hers and then moved away.

  The butterfly followed after, she didn’t know why. She was attracted to this particular animal, although there was no glint of gold about him, nothing that should draw her attention so. She followed as he moved toward the black one and stood beside him with only a large gray stone separating them.

  The sound he made was different; even a butterfly could distinguish the beauty of it. Deep…there was something that drew her to him.

  “This song I can remember my mother singing. I sing it now for her.”

  Ave Maria rose into the pure mountain air. The butterfly was fascinated and moved closer, certain that there must be nectar somewhere about this animal. She fluttered about the moving lips, which broke into a smile. A hand came up and gently pushed her away. She fluttered around his head, looking in vain for the nectar source and then settled on his shoulder, wings gently fanning as the fascinating one finished his hymn of praise, his voice ringing out pure and beautiful.

  The song was finished, the ceremony over. The animals began moving off. The butterfly took to the air again as the fascinating one put his arm around the smaller one and started down the hill. There had been no nectar, but he had satisfied something within her, something no butterfly had ever experienced before.

  She fluttered over to the square of granite, pushing herself against the strange markings deeply incised into it. In butterfly fashion she examined it, but found nothing of interest. She rose into the air, leaving the stone and its message behind, already forgotten in the quest for nectar.

  Here lies

  Kathryn Elizabeth Martin

  You were loved, but

  your song ended too soon

 
About C.L. McCullough

  I call myself a Southern Canadian. I was born in Toronto, Canada but have lived my adult life in the Deep South. This gives me an appreciation for eccentrics, beta heroes and cold iced tea. I love crisp, witty dialogue with a touch of humor.

  Writing is my passion, nudging aside crochet and cross stitch, but I have yet to settle on a preferred genre. Contemporary, historical, paranormal, I'm in love with them all. So far I have three contempories and one historical/paranormal accepted for publication, and I'm working on a story called Letters From Greece with my friend and partner, Lori Green. My next solo effort will involve alternate universes and the magic of music and hopefully will be a trilogy.

  I got my start in fan fiction, because I fell in love with the music of Il Divo. I put those poor men through a lot. Somehow they survived and are still making beautiful music. I want to thank them for turning me on to Romance with a capital R and being my guinea pigs while I learned to be a better writer.

  I consider myself a work in progress and welcome feedback.

  Website:

  http://clmccullough.yolasite.com/

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  bamaclm@hotmail.com

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