Thomas kneels beside the bed, his hands clasped before him in prayer. Mother is propped up against half a dozen pillows, looking down at him with tender affection. Thomas hears me enter the room and rises to his feet. His wrinkled face is wet with tears, and his pronounced chin quivers.
“Thank you for letting me be a part of this household, it's been an honor to be in your service,” he says, his voice shaking.
“Oh Thomas,” Mother smiles, reaching for his hand, “I hope you know that you were more than a part of this household. You were always a part of this family.”
A fresh wave of tears streams down our butler’s face. He’s all but overcome as I approach and lay a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Goodbye Gertrude,” Thomas says softly.
“You used my first name,” she chuckles, “It look you long enough, you old coot. Goodbye Thomas. Take care of yourself.”
Pulling in a ragged breath, Thomas turns and crosses the room. His shoulders are shaking as he closes the door behind him. Mother and I are finally alone, but for a long moment, neither of us breathes a word. The only sound to be heard is the soft crackling of the fire, the muted sobs rising up behind the closed door.
I look at the small, withered body that is housing my mother’s soul. It’s so hard to believe that this is the same woman who raised me with such conviction and vigor. It’s even harder to believe that soon, not even this aged shell will be here.
“Don’t look so grim, darling,” Mother says, breaking the thick silence, “You’re already so damn serious. If your brow furrows any further it might just eat itself.”
“Only you would make jokes at a time like this,” I say, shaking my head.
“What else is there to do?” she asks, her eyes shining wetly in the firelight, “That’s how I’ve always made it through the worst of life, Lukas. Taking the time to laugh, a bit.”
“Not all of us can manage that,” I reply, pulling up a chair and sinking heavily into it.
“I wish I could have given you that,” Mother sighs, turning her head with great effort to face me. “I wish that I could have taught you how to laugh. How to greet hardship and fear with a well-timed joke. If there’s anything I would have done differently as a mother, it’s that. Of course, with your father’s demeanor, I had my work cut out for me. You’re so much like him, Lukas. From the start, I knew that you were cast in his mold.”
“Father was an amazing man,” I say, grasping hard at the arms of the chair, “I’m lucky to be like him.”
“At least you’ve still got a little bit of my accent,” she smiles weakly, “I’ll take full credit for that, after all, I insisted that your father be stationed in Germany when you were small, so that you'd know your roots. I think that was the best thing I've ever done for you. Even if the rest of you is all your father. I hope you know how proud it made him, to see you follow in his footsteps. I know he didn’t show it much, but he loved you dearly Lukas.”
“I know, Mother,” I say. My father had been a stoic, serious man, that was true. But I never had any doubt that my parents loved me beyond measure.
“I love you too, Lukas,” she whispers, offering her hand to me. I take it, alarmed by the tremor that shakes my fingers. “I know that you can’t say it back to me. I’ve accepted that. After what happened to you...I can’t imagine how hard it must be to even consider the possibility of love existing in your life again. I don’t blame you for turning away from love, Lukas. For denying it completely. I won’t say that it hasn’t hurt, but I’ve always understood.”
My hand tightens around hers. What kind of son can’t even tell his mother, in the final hours of her life, that he loves her? I’d give anything to be able to grant her that last peace, to send her off with that one little phrase she’s been so eager for these past seven years. But I can’t do it. That part of me is irrevocably broken. Love is not something that I can ever experience again, not since my wife and children...It’s impossible. I’m far too damaged, and too far gone, to even hope for love’s return in my life.
“It isn’t your fault, Lukas,” Mother says fiercely, her eyes blazing for one brief moment.
“What isn’t, Mother?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice even.
“Any of it,” she says, “The distance that’s come between us these past several years. The silence. And especially everything that happened in Rome.”
“Don’t...” I whisper, “Please—”
“You couldn’t have stopped those men on your own, Lukas. You couldn’t have known when you brought your family to Italy what was lying in wait. You were taking them on a vacation, for Christ’s sake. You were showing your children the world.”
“Mother...”
“The only people to blame are those despicable men. Those heartless, vile bastards who could stand to murder a man’s family right in front of his eyes.”
“I don’t want to—”
“They’re to blame for Andrea’s death. For Charlotte’s and Peter’s. Not you, Lukas. You’re not responsible for the fact that they’re gone.”
“Of course I’m responsible!” I explode, shouting in the quiet room. The sudden burst of rage silences my mother. “It was my duty to protect them. As a father, as a husband, it was my job to make sure that nothing ever happened to them. I was the one who wanted to continue with the CIA, even knowing how dangerous it could be for my family. I was the one who accepted that assassination mission, even when I knew that we could very well become targets if the details of the hit were ever uncovered.”
“It’s the CIA’s fault that they were! Those missions are supposed to be classified—”
“I shouldn’t have taken it,” I say through gritted teeth, “I should have turned my back on the CIA the moment they suggested it. What the hell was I sticking it out for? We don’t need the money. I could have never worked another day in my life and still provided for my family. I stayed for the sake of my own goddamn ego. For my need to visit arbitrary death on other people. To do to other families around the world what those animals did to mine. I’m...I’m a monster.”
“No,” Mother whispers.
“I am,” I insist. It’s the first time I’ve ever owned it out loud. “I kill for pleasure. I kill because I can. There’s no honor in what I do. There never was.”
“You kill terrible men,” Mother says, her eyes welling up with tears, “Even these past seven years, since you left the agency behind. You’ve never killed someone who didn’t deserve it.”
“And who am I to make that call?” I ask, the power of my voice trailing off.
Mother looks me in the eye with a ferocity I haven’t seen in her for years. “You’re a good man,” she says, “The best man I’ve ever known. And remember, I married your father. I’m so proud to have you as a son, Lukas. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and always will. And nothing that you do will ever, ever, change that.”
I nod—it’s all that I can manage. Across the room, I hear the door swing open. Hannah’s voice sounds out from the doorway.
“Is everything OK in here?” she asks.
“Oh yes,” Mother smiles. “Lukas, be a dear and hand me the painkillers, would you? I’m feeling a little uncomfortable.”
“Of course Mother,” I say, my voice gruff. I hand her the tiny orange bottle, which she cradles lovingly to her chest. I pour a glass of water from the pitcher and set it on the bedside table.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes bright with tears. “Would you two...give me a moment?” her voice is labored, her speech slowing. “I’d like a little while to just...reflect.”
“No problem,” Hannah says, “Anything you like, Gertrude.”
“Why don’t you fix this boy a cup of tea,” Mother says, smiling at her nurse, “I think he could stand to...benefit from your attention...more than I could, now...”
I rise from my chair and look down at the woman who raised me. I’m astounded by her calm, her unshakable dignity. There will never be another woma
n like my mother, no matter how many more millennia this world lives to see.
Mother holds her hand out to me, and I place my own in hers once more. Slowly, with great effort, she leans forward and rests her brittle lips against my palm. A sudden, unbidden surge of emotion sweeps through me, unleashed by her kiss. Before I can catch myself, I’ve leaned over her fragile form and brought my own lips to her lined forehead. A small, joyous sob escapes her throat as I pull back and meet her gaze.
“Thank you, Lukas,” she whispers.
“Thank you, Mother,” I reply.
Turning to walk out of her bedroom is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But even as I’m walking away from my mother, I’m walking toward another amazing woman—toward Hannah. She waits for me, with endless patience, endless empathy. I join her on the other side of the threshold and close the door behind me. Mother smiles warmly as we leave, content to have a moment to herself. It’s a long life she has to reflect on, after all. The most we can do is let her be alone with her thoughts for a spell. Surely, there will be time enough to say goodbye, yet.
“Come on,” Hannah says, laying her hand on my elbow. “Let’s go get you that cup of tea.”
I follow her down the marble staircase, feeling every inch a lost little boy. Her support is the only thing holding me up, but I don’t balk from it. Perhaps, after so many years on my own, accepting the smallest bit of help might finally be in order. If ever there was a woman who could convince me again that people can be good, it’s Hannah. She’s led my mother through the most terrifying moment of her long life, after all. Perhaps I can trust her to lead me through mine, as well: the moment of finally, at long last, letting someone back into my heart.
Chapter Seventeen
-Hannah-
I hand Lukas the steaming cup of lemon ginger tea.
“Be careful,” I say, “It’s a little hot.”
I’m surprised to see a little smile creep onto his lips. “Just because my mother’s indisposed, doesn’t mean you should feel the need to mother me.”
“Ooh, gallows humor,” I say, “I like it.”
“I’m trying to take a page out of Mother’s book,” Lukas says, staring down into the steaming mug.
“It’s a pretty solid book to draw from,” I say, “One of the best I’ve ever known.”
“No need to overstate things,” Lukas chides.
“I’m not,” I tell him, leaning my elbows on the countertop, “I never knew any of my grandparents, Lukas. That’s probably a blessing. I don’t think I would have had anything in common with them. God knows, I’ve always felt out of place in my own family. It’s never made sense to me, why they’ve seemed so distant to me.”
Lukas looks up at me, his steely blue eyes softened at the edges. I’ve never seen him so defenseless, so vulnerable. But even in this most trying hour, he’s a rock of strength. He’s the most incredible man I’ve ever met. All I want is to keep him close, to draw from that incredible power, and to lend him my own when I can. This is one of the rare days when I can be as much of a anchor to him as he can be for me. And I intend to stay strong for him.
“Hannah...” he says softly, meeting my gaze, “In no time at all, Mother will pass away.”
“Yes,” I say through a throat closed tightly with impending tears.
“I know that, once she’s gone, the reason for your being here will be gone as well,” he continues, rolling the warm mug between his hands. “But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to...I’d like to ask you...if you might like to stay on call. For a time. I might need...a little help. Around the house, and all.”
I’m floored by his request. Excited, and honored, and so terribly moved. I circle the kitchen island and go to him, my reservations forgotten. Before he can protest, I wrap my arms around as much of him as I can hold. That barrier that stood between us, my reluctance at touching another man, is completely gone. Demolished by the intensity of our circumstance.
Lukas leans his body into mine, standing to take me in his arms as well. We stand, embracing each other as tightly as we can. I rest my cheek against his broad shoulder. I can feel every muscle in his chest pressing against my own. I can hear the insistent, powerful beating of his broken, but mendable, heart.
“Thank you for letting me be here,” I whisper into the fine fabric of his shirt. “Thank you for letting me be here for you.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he says, smoothing down my hair.
“Let’s just agree to be grateful for each other then,” I laugh, pulling away to look at him. Lukas’s hands fall on my hips as mine rest against his gorgeous face. “I know you’re confused. I am, too. There’s no playbook for people like us, Lukas. There’s no proper way to proceed. Life hasn’t been easy on me, and I know it’s been even more brutal with you. But if you’ll have me, I’d like to stick around. I want to figure all of this out with you, I’m willing to. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to take effort, and time, and all the honesty in the world. Are you ok with that?"
“I wish I could just say yes,” he growls, his hands tightening around the small of my back, “But I have no idea, Hannah. I’ve felt so far gone as a man for so long. I don’t know what’s possible, for me. But...I’m willing to try. I’m willing to at least see what happens. Is that enough for you, Hannah?”
I consider the question. Is it enough? A “maybe” rather than an “absolutely”? I look up into Lukas’s beautiful, devastating eyes, searching for my answer. Can I really open myself up to a man who may not be able to meet me on top of the barrier that stands between two people as damaged as us? Am I simply setting myself up for horrific heartache and terrible disappointment?
“Maybe,” I whisper, holding his face in my hands. “Let’s just say maybe, for now.”
“Maybe,” Lukas repeats, running his mighty hand through my hair, “I think I can live with that.”
He brings his face slowly toward mine, waiting for me to resist. But that resistance is gone. I accept his kiss as he presses his lips to mine. Eager and full of yearning, I kiss him back, ravenously. Our mouths move hungrily together, our tongues colliding deliciously. I clasp my hands around his thick neck as he pulls me tightly against his rippling body. Drunk on the taste of him, I bring my teeth gently down onto his bottom lip.
With a mighty intake of breath, Lukas lifts and spins me, planting me on the kitchen counter. I gasp, surprised by my sudden flight, but all the more earnest for him. I wrap my long legs around his waist, the warm, wet place between my legs throbbing with need. Lukas presses into me, kissing the tender skin of my neck. I moan as his firm lips knead against my skin, the tip of his tongue dancing against my throat. I run my hands along the incalculably powerful muscles of his back, memorizing the feel of him.
“I want you, Lukas,” I gasp, “I want you so badly...”
In reply, he grabs my hips and pulls me against him, letting me feel the staggering weight of his erection. He looks at me steadily, his eyes on fire. “Not yet,” he whispers, grinding his cock against me. The friction of my denim jeans against his eager, rock hard dick makes my vision swim.
“Not yet?” I groan.
“No,” he insists, “I won’t rush this, Hannah. When we finally go to bed together, I want you to be completely sure. I don’t want there to be anything inhibiting you. I’m the sort of man who needs a woman to give herself over, fully."
“Yes, you're right,” I gasp, “Now isn't the time.”
“I know,” he replies with a solemn look, “You can trust me though, Hannah.”
“I know,” I say, and mean it.
Lukas pulls away from me, helping me down from my perch. My chest is heaving wildly, and it takes a few long moments for both of us to pull ourselves together. Lukas sips thoughtfully on his tea as I force deep breaths into my lungs. We trade grins, like two kids sharing a secret.
“We’d better get back to your mother,” I finally say, feeling composed once more.
�
��You’re right,” he says, draining the last of his tea.
He head back upstairs together, a feeling of warm understanding building between us where only tension used to exist. I don’t think there will ever be a time when I can be around him without wanting to fall into his arms—that sexual charge between us isn’t going anywhere. But this new layer of affection between us is something that I could definitely get used to with Lukas.
I push open the bedroom door and cross the threshold. It doesn’t take more than a breath to feel the shift that’s occurred in the room. Lukas and I sprint across the space together, wordless in our desperation. Gertrude is lying back on her many pillows, her head turned to the side. The orange pill bottle rests on her unmoving chest, its contents spilled out across the comforter. A tiny, contented smile hangs on her still lips. I rest my fingers against her neck and confirm what I already know.
“She’s gone, Lukas,” I breathe, staring down at Gertrude as the tears I’ve been holding back for so long begin to stream silently down my face.
Lukas drops to his knees beside the bed, staring at the scattered pills. “Mother...” he says softly, “What did you do?”
“She told me...” I cry, sitting down heavily at her feet, “She told me that she wished there was some way she could decide for herself when she wanted to go. I suppose she got her wish...”
“She...ended it herself?” Lukas says, his voice hollow. I nod my head, speechless. “That’s...good,” Lukas says finally, his mouth a firm, straight line, “She deserved that choice.”
I sob as Lukas lays his cheek against his mother’s hand, accepting her final decision in one simple gesture.
“It must have been such a peaceful way to go,” I say through my tears, “Just like falling asleep.”
My eyes fall upon the bedside table. There’s a single piece of paper resting there—and I have no doubt in my mind what it is. A note from Gertrude, her last. Slowly, I reach across the bed and take the brief letter in my hands.
“Is that...?” Lukas asks, his eyes closed.
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