Letters to Lincoln

by Tracie Podger

  I wasn’t sure but I made him put a coat on anyway. We drove the short distance to Harlson Falls and walked the path to the derelict cottage. He unlocked the door and we entered. Miller shook out the blankets and laid them on the floor, and he placed one on the windowsill. He took my hand and led me to it.

  “Sit,” he said.

  He positioned himself between my thighs and used his good hand to brush hair from my eyes. He tucked it behind my ear and took a deep breath. I held mine.

  “I fell in love with you in this house. I sort of lied and told you it was a kid crush, because that’s what I thought it was at the time. But I never stopped thinking about you. Some say a youngster can’t possibly know anything about love, and what I felt then, bears no resemblance to what I feel now. I want to kiss you so bad in here, because for me, this is where it all started. It all sounds a little stalkerish, but I can promise you that it isn’t. I loved Annabelle, but you were also always in my mind. Maybe it was because whenever I thought of you, the fun you had, the smile you always shared, you reminded me of a better life, of hope.

  “You still remind me of that. You’re like a rain shower in the middle of a hot summer, the first flowers of spring. Even in your darkest times, you managed to find a smile. You struggled with dignity and courage, and I fell more in love with you then.”

  I didn’t get a chance to reply.

  His kiss started slow, his tongue swiped over my lips until I parted them. I raised my arms and placed them around his neck. I drew him close by wrapping my legs around his waist. I wanted to feel his body against mine. Our hearts beat in tune with each other.

  As his kiss deepened, so my hold on him tightened. When he broke away it was as if part of me was missing. He stepped back and let his hand run down my arm to catch my hand. He pulled me into a standing position and then led me to the blankets he’d laid on the floor.

  I knelt as he did. He stared at me for a long while, running his fingers over my face and through my hair.

  “I love you, Dani,” he said before kissing me again.

  That time it was with such passion he took the air from my lungs. That one kiss took all the pain and hurt I’d felt for months away, he absolved me of any guilt I might have felt. He healed me with his lips and his tongue, with his strength and his courage.

  Lincoln Miller Copeland became mine then, and I became his. We were a perfect fit, as if we’d been designed to be together. I could have cursed the years we’d been apart, but I didn’t. We wouldn’t have been there, in that moment, if we hadn’t travelled the paths we did; had life not shaped us to be the people that we were.

  As he laid me down, and his hand slid down my side, gently caressing the skin under my jumper, I stared into his eyes.

  “I love you, too, Miller.”

  “I’m not going to make love to you here, as much as I want to. Trust me, I’m desperate to. What I want to do is discover you. I want to know every inch of your body before I make it mine.”

  He did just that. With his hands, and his mouth, he explored my body. He tasted and caressed every inch of skin, removing my clothes as he did. He licked, nipped, and kissed, and I struggled to keep hold of myself.

  “Miller, please,” I whispered, as I ran my lips over his neck.

  I slid my hand up his jumper and ran it over his bare chest, feeling his heart beating a rapid rhythm. I felt his chuckle against my skin.

  “I’ve waited years for this moment, I’m not going to rush it,” he said.

  “You’re going to kill me,” I said, frustrated.

  “I’ll give you this,” he replied, as his mouth trailed down my stomach.

  His fingers hooked under the side of my panties and pulled them down. His mouth followed. As his tongue swiped over my clitoris, I lost control. I cried out his name, and I let my tears flow. The release was overwhelming. Not just the release of an orgasm but the pent-up frustration, anger, and sadness, it all flowed from inside me in that moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  We lay together wrapped in the blankets for warmth for a while without speaking.

  “What happens now?” I asked, eventually breaking the silence.

  “I read your last letter to Lincoln. And then we decide what we want from each other.”

  “I want you, Miller. I want a relationship, if that’s what you want, too.” Uncertainly washed over me.

  “Would we be here right now if I didn’t?” He chuckled. “Dani, I want you to live with me, where we live, we’ll have to decide. However, I want you to give me a couple of weeks to deal with some shit in my head. Will you do that for me?”

  I propped myself up on one elbow. “I’ll give you all the time you need, as long as you don’t shut me out, you let me help you.”

  “Deal. I want to start a relationship with you without any baggage. I want to be totally honest with you and to do that I need to reconcile some things. I love you, Dani; I respect you enough to know that I need to sort myself out before I give you my all. I don’t want to do this half-arsed.”

  I smiled in appreciation.

  “I’m not sure after that taster, I can keep away for two weeks,” I said.

  “Just think how much sweeter it will be,” he winked at me.

  “When do we start?” I asked, trailing my fingers around the waistband of his jeans.

  “Baby, I’m only just holding on to my control here, as it is. But I want to do this right. For the first time in my life, I want to get it right, from the beginning. You’re my future and I need to clear some things so that future can’t be disturbed.”

  I nodded, disappointed, but accepting his reasoning. What was two weeks anyway? I’d waited a long time for Miller, as he had for me. I could do that.

  I drove Miller back to his cottage and his kiss goodbye had me in tears.

  “Just two weeks, that’s all. I’ll call you every day, and if I need you, or you need me, then fuck the two weeks, okay?”

  I walked to my car and tried my hardest not to look back. I didn’t need to ask what he had to do in those two weeks. I guessed he wanted to deal with his relationship with Daniel, with his father. I imagined he wanted closure for Annabelle and his mother.

  The first three days were awful. Miller called me twice a day, but the temptation to ring him hourly was so strong. He told me that he’d sat with his father and told him how he’d come to be put in prison. He was protecting Daniel. Although he confessed he knew it wasn’t long before he’d be put away, anyway, and he welcomed it. He told me that had he not been convicted, he didn’t think he’d have been able to break away from that lifestyle.

  He also told me that he talked to his doctor about some counselling. I was pleased that he had decided to do that; his past was obviously of concern to him, not that it was to me. I didn’t care about prison, or the lifestyle he’d chosen, because I knew the man I was in love with was a far cry from that person.

  We never made it to the full two weeks apart, and I didn’t think we would. Miller arrived at my house one morning, and although I told him off for driving one-handed, he placed his fingers over my lips and took my hand to walk me to his car.

  “I can’t wait any longer, and I don’t think your dad will appreciate me fucking you in his house.”

  I laughed at his coarseness but allowed myself to be led to the passenger door. I climbed in, ignoring that he struggled to drive with one arm in plaster. In silence, we drove back to his cottage.

  Before we’d even got the front door closed, he gently pushed me against the wall and he kissed me hard. His hand fisted in my hair and he pushed his body against mine. His breathing was ragged and his moan caused my core to tighten. I could feel the wetness between my thighs as my desire for him escalated.

  When he took a step back, I grabbed the front of his shirt. My shaking hands fumbled to undo his buttons. Before I’d managed to unbutton it fully, he pulled it over his head and wrenched it past the plaster cast on his arm.

  He took hold of t
he hem of my jumper and pulled it over my head. The urgency caused me to stumble a little. I undid my jeans and let them slide to my feet; I kicked off my Converse and stepped out of them. He lowered his head to my chest, and his tongue ran over the lace of my bra until he bit down on my puckered nipple. He sucked on it through the material. I gripped his head, tangling my fingers in his hair, and holding him to me.

  “Not here,” he whispered into my skin.

  He stepped away and led me to his bedroom. “We do this right. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll fuck you against that wall, I’ll fuck you everywhere in this house. But I want you in my bed first.”

  He led me upstairs and to his bedroom. I slipped off my socks and then stood in front of him. He reached behind to unclip my bra and slowly crouched as he pulled my panties to my ankles. All the while he kept looking straight in my eyes. His gaze was intense, his intention so obvious. He held my hips as his gently kissed my lower stomach and across the scar that blighted my skin. When he stood, he walked me backwards until my legs hit the bed and I sat. I watched him remove his jeans and then his underwear. I shuffled on the bed as he crawled towards me. I saw his brow furrow in pain, at the weight of him on his broken arm, but he brushed away my concern.

  I lay and he held himself above me. He didn’t speak at all, just stared. I parted my legs and wrapped my heels around the back of his legs. When Miller pushed inside me and then stilled, he took my breath away. Not from pain, but the connection I felt to him. A lone tear ran down the side of my face as he made love to me. Not once did he stop looking at me, not once did he close his eyes. Every movement of his body was slow and measured.

  When he lowered his head to kiss me, I wrapped my arms around his back. I dug my fingers into his skin and tightened my legs around his. He let go then. The slow and measured was replaced with fast and furious. He slammed into me over and over, deeper with each thrust. He bit down on my shoulder and groaned out my name. I screamed out his as my orgasm built. My body convulsed and I raked my nails down his sweaty back.

  Miller’s body stiffened under my touch, he raised his head, and with his eyes closed, he bit down on his lower lip as he came. I felt him pulse inside me and I didn’t care. I wanted everything he gave me. I wanted his cum to run down my thighs and for his sweat to drip onto my skin.

  When Miller rolled to one side, I turned to face him. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heart. He extended his arm and pulled me into him.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  We slept for an hour or so, and then when we woke, we made love again. In fact, we didn’t leave the bed for the rest of the day. The sheets were tangled around us, the room smelled of our arousal; it was musky and intoxicating.

  At some point during the night, while I was dozing, Miller stirred. I opened my eyes to see him staring at me. He smiled.

  “Marry me, Dani,” he said.

  “Marry you?”

  “Yes. I know we agreed we’d live together but I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy. Marry me.” It wasn’t so much of a question, more a statement.

  “Mr. Copeland, I’ve know you what, a year, if that?”

  “So?”

  He climbed from the bed and walked naked around to my side. He lowered himself to one knee.

  “Dani, I love you. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

  I opened my mouth to speak but I couldn’t find the words. Instead I slid my legs over the bed so I was sitting. I nodded my head, eventually uttering the words he wanted to hear.

  “Yes, I’ll marry you,” I said, just as his lips closed on mine.

  Epilogue

  I thought I’d found my soul mate in Trey, I’d been so very wrong. Just a few months later, as I walked up the aisle of the church towards Miller, I knew the man standing nervously in front of me was the one I was always destined to be with. Daniel presided and he smiled at us both as he gave the service. In fact, he looked more like the proverbial Cheshire cat than a vicar about to marry his brother and his friend.

  We’d decided on a very small ceremony, just family and a handful of his friends. It was perfect: more so when Patricia flew over to act as mother of the bride. I’d called her when Miller had asked me to marry him, and at first I thought her silence was disapproval. However, the tears in her voice when she told me how happy she was for me brought a lump to my throat.

  My relationship with Christian was still a little fractured and that saddened us both. He was a proud man, too proud to admit he’d caused the rift. However, he was at my wedding, sitting with his new partner, Jennifer. She’d been instrumental in making sure Christian had booked therapy to cope with his level of anger. She’d also made sure he and I sat and talked through how we felt. I had high hopes for their relationship, she was tough, considerate, and I thought we’d become good friends.

  We’d decided to live in the barn, the planning permission had come through and with some minor adjustments; it was going to be perfect. We were to create our perfect home. Miller built Dad a garage for Mertle, and a workshop for himself. He put his cottage up for sale but kept hold of the one at Harlson Falls.

  We visited that cottage regularly; we made love on the dusty floor many times. We never got around to start its renovation, though. One day, maybe, but for now, that cottage was where it all started, when we were children. We didn’t want to disturb that memory or erase the fantasy that had occurred there.

  “How do you feel?” Miller asked, as we walked hand in hand to Hannah’s grave. I wanted to lay my wedding flowers there for her to share.

  “Amazing. I can’t believe we’re actually married, if I’m honest,” I said with a laugh.

  “I feel annoyed we don’t get to honeymoon just yet,” he said.

  “I want the house done, then we can lock the door, close the curtains, and pretend we are anywhere in the world.”

  “Mmm, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “Anyway, I don’t want to holiday just yet. I want our first holiday to be as a family.”

  I had knelt down beside Hannah’s grave, I no longer thought of Trey being there with her. I kissed my fingertips and placed it over her name before looking back up at Miller. He held a frown on his forehead.

  I stood and took his hand. I placed his hand on my stomach.

  “Our first holiday will be in about a year, when our baby is a few months old.”

  He cocked his head to one side.

  I sighed. “I’m pregnant, Miller.”

  He didn’t speak, and I watched the tears roll down his cheeks. He knelt and held my hips. He placed a kiss on my stomach, through my wedding dress.

  “My baby is in here,” he whispered. “Hey, baby, Daddy here.”

  He stood so abruptly he startled me. He grabbed my shoulders and turned towards our guests that were leaving the church.

  “I’m going to be a dad!” he shouted.

  At first there wasn’t a response, but then the whooping and cheering began.

  “I’m going to be a dad?” he said quietly to me.

  I nodded.

  “Not just any old dad. You’re going to be the most amazing father any child could ever wish for,” I said.

  “Fuck me,” he said before laughing out loud.

  Miller was the worst expectant parent I could have ever wished for. I wasn’t allowed to do anything for myself. He worked, and he finished our house. He panicked at every single wince I made and he rubbed the soles of my feet when they hurt. He read every book, argued with the useless doctors who, in his opinion, knew nothing about childbirth, and I banned him from antenatal classes after he lay on the mat that should have been for me, and fell asleep.

  A week before my due date, he led me into the spare bedroom that he’d begged me to stay away from. Standing in the middle of a soft cream painted room was an ornately carved oak cot, a matching crib stood beside it. To one side was a large dresser with a changing mat on the top. Miller had made them all.

  “You’re not cross I
wanted to do this myself, are you?” he asked. I guessed my silence had worried him.

  I shook my head slowly. “Miller, it’s absolutely perfect.” There were many other words I wanted to say but I was just so choked they wouldn’t form.

  Or perhaps it was the pain that ripped through my stomach and stole my ability to speak.

  “Dani?”

  I panted to quell the pain and pointed to the bag that had been packed for the past month, silently thanking that Miller had been so bloody anal about being prepared.

  “It’s time?” he asked.

  I nodded, biting down on my lower lip.

  “Holy fuck. Oh my God.”

  He ran around the house, placing the bag in the boot, grabbing coats and phones before escorting me to the sensible car we’d had to buy on his insistence.

  Isabelle Hannah Copeland was born a few hours later by C-section.

  She was a healthy and very cross baby, and she brought Miller to his knees. He cried when he held her and the love that poured from every part of him brought tears to not only my eyes, but the midwife and nurses as well.

  “Hey, Izzie,” he whispered. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and placed her on my chest. I kissed her head and we both cried gentle tears as we welcomed our baby into the world.

  “That is everything. More than I ever dreamed possible,” Miller said, echoing the words he’d told me the very first time he’d kissed me.

  My family was complete. My husband and my daughter were my world, but I’d never forget the angel that I was desperate to visit.

  On the day we were allowed to take Izzie home, we made a detour to the cemetery. I wanted Izzie to meet her sister, Hannah, as soon as possible. We sat on the grass and I winced at the pull across my stomach as I did. We placed Izzie, in her car seat, beside the headstone, and not that it was deliberate of course, but Izzie stretched out her arm, her tiny fingers just touching the headstone beside Hannah’s name.