Unmending the Veil

by Lisa Heaton

  “Really?”

  “Oh, she’s loaded. You know, not like Rockefeller kind of rich, but enough to simply live here in a place like this and not need an income.”

  “Hmm…I had no idea.” It was the grandest home he had ever been in. Growing up, Robin’s was about the nicest home he had ever been inside. Although he had a few friends with nice homes, the Jacobs’ home was nicer by far. His own home had always been run down and reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Since his mom worked two jobs most of the time, and he and Trevor were left without supervision, the place stayed a mess. As he got older though, he began to help out. Still, it was never what he would call nice.

  “You must like living here. This place is grander than anything I have ever seen.” And anything he could ever offer her, he thought.

  “Yes, I suppose. It has been good for me these past years.”

  Sensing he was about to head down the road leading to the past, he made no comment. Instead, he asked, “So, what did you get me in there?”

  “I’m not telling.”

  “Will we keep tradition and open one tonight?”

  “Absolutely.” She was scrapping the rest of her eggs onto his plate. “So, what did you get me?”

  “A puppy.”

  Giggling at him, she suggested, “We may have a problem then.”

  When she laughed, he felt the warmth of it settle into his chest. Since arriving, he continually was waiting to wake up, to find it was all some marvelous dream. While he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance with her, there he sat. As hope of a future mixed with the warmth of her laughter, he found it to be an emotionally charged combination. Fearing he may cry and upset her, he tried instead to refocus his thoughts by asking, “Was there anything you wanted? I almost called and asked, but I didn’t think you would tell me.”

  “I cannot think of anything.” Inside, she knew her gift was being with him for Christmas. In truth, she was happy when her parents canceled. Even if Emma had remained home, she would have invited Mike. While it would have been much more uncomfortable, she could hardly stand the thought of him spending another holiday alone.

  Grinning, he wrapped two pieces of bacon in his toast and ate nearly half in one bite.

  She laughed at him again.

  He shrugged, and mumbled, “What? I’m a growing boy.”

  “I know, Mike.” She smiled softly and looked down at her plate.

  Noticing the tender expression on her face, he could tell his statement took her back in time. It was the first time he realized that she must think back fondly on the early years just as he did. “Rob?”

  Peeking back up at him, she feared he could read her mind. She was as hopelessly in love with him at that moment as she was sitting on the bed during their honeymoon, eating donuts. He shoved an entire donut in his mouth and said the same thing.

  “I hope you made me cookies.”

  Thankful for the way he redirected the conversation, she commanded, “Finish your breakfast.”

  Their day together proved to be even more fun than decorating the tree. They played out in the snow, built a snowman, bundled up in the afternoon and went out for a walk, and they even ventured out to see the lights around town. The worst part of the day was how quickly it passed. Sitting in the parlor after dinner, she handed him a gift, and picked up the one he wanted her to open. Tearing into the package, she found a set of three coffee mugs. One said Hope. One said Faith. One said Believe. “I love them. I am a big coffee drinker, don’t ya know?”

  “I have heard that rumor. I thought we could use them in the morning.” There was a forth mug in the set, it said, “Love,” but he decided to keep it for himself. While he was not a coffee drinker, he was thinking of becoming one. He would try it the next morning. Surely with enough sugar, he could drink anything.

  He went next. When he opened the box, he found his cookies.” Jumping up, he grabbed the “Hope” and “Faith” mugs and started out of the room.

  “Where are you going?”

  Without stopping, he said, “To get milk, where else?”

  “I hope you plan on washing them first,” she yelled behind him. She waited for him, wondering why she was surprised. At times, she had seen him go through a half gallon of milk while eating cookies.

  Settled back in with a mug of milk for each of them, he said, “You will never top this gift.” He dunked a cookie into the milk and put the whole thing in his mouth. He held the box out to her. “I suppose I can spare one.”

  Taking the cookie, she dunked hers, just as he did. Inside, her heart was so full of joy and contentment. For the past few years at Christmastime, she never felt as if she belonged. While she loved Emma and Emma loved her, she was not home. Even the two years her parents came, she felt very alone. Now she realized, what she was missing was him. He was her husband, and she would likely always feel his absence.

  Noticing how deep she was in thought, he sat and stared at her. She was sitting just to the left of the tree, and the lights were twinkling behind her. After opening their gifts, they were seated on the floor still, just a few feet from the fireplace. The fire had died to a low crackle, and the sounds of it made him realize just how romantic the setting was. The lights were dim, and they were alone, and she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen sitting there by the tree. So far, the night was a perfect blend of excitement and tradition. Reaching out, he grabbed both of her ankles and slid her nearer to him asking, “Why did you invite me here?”

  Biting at her lower lip, she looked into his eyes. The atmosphere around them took a sudden turn. Longing was the word that echoed in her head. In his eyes she could see it, and longing was the only way she could describe what was churning within her. She longed to be his again. “I didn’t want you to be alone for Christmas.”

  Reaching out, he touched her cheek. “Is that the only reason?” Sliding his other hand behind her back, he drew her a little closer.

  She swallowed hard. Gazing into his eyes was a mistake, for she became lost in them. Shaking her head no, she admitted, “I wanted to be with you for Christmas. I needed to be with you.”

  He put his hand behind her neck and pulled her nearer still. “I am about two inches away from crossing the line of this friendship.”

  Mesmerized by the melody of his words, she could only stare at his lips. His breath smelled sweet like cookies. “Draw nearer.”

  He kissed her. It was soft, and sweet, and gentle. Moving his other hand to her face, he held her there steadily. When he touched her, she sighed. That was what he felt, a sigh of relief, a sigh that he was holding her as he used to, a sigh that, for the first time in a very long time, his lips touched hers. Cupping her face with both hands, he pulled back for a second, whispering, “God knows how much I love you.” This time, he pressed his lips onto hers again, but her response was unexpected.

  Sliding her hands up to the back of his neck, she held him to her firmly. Breaking contact for only a second, she breathlessly whispered, “I have always loved you,” and moved to sit on his lap. What began as something tender and deliberate turned quickly into an intense, enflamed moment. He held her so tightly, she could barely breathe. Kissing her face and her neck, he whispered again and again how much he loved her. His whiskers were rough and scraped the smooth skin of her neck. How she missed the feel of his face pressed against hers and his lips on her neck. As she had always been, she was lost in him and needed him more than she ever did. Without question, she was prepared to give herself to him, right there, right then.

  The ringing of the phone was something they at first ignored. Finally, he gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her away from him. “You better get that.”

  Grinning at him, she stood and moved quickly from the room.

  Breathless, he found he was barely able to regain his composure. Since arriving, he had wanted to kiss her more than anything else. When given the opportunity, at the onset, it was his only intention. Once she responded as she did though, his onl
y thought was of making love to her. No doubt, that was exactly where they were heading. Their circumstances were such, though, that he knew it would be a mistake.

  Needing fresh air, he went outside to wait for her on the back porch. Although the temperature was in the low twenties and he wore no coat, he still found himself overheated. His heart was pounding at the mere thought of her lips on his and the way she dug her fingers into the skin of his neck. In his mind, he could still hear her sweet words, “I need you. I need you.” Inhaling deeply, he grabbed onto the rail of the porch and prayed, “Lord, I want her more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I know, though, things are too uncertain between us. While in my heart she will always be my wife, and I believe in Your eyes she is, we are no longer even married. I can’t allow myself to be with her like this. Not when she’s not mine. I need You to give me strength, or I may make the biggest mistake and end up losing her again.”

  While on the phone with her parents, Robin watched Mike go outside, glad he did since she had allowed her parents to believe she was alone. As much as she hoped to find the courage, she simply could not tell them about him. They had suffered too much heartbreak and upheaval in their lives after what happened, and because of that, it was not at all likely they would ever understand her spending time with him. Although it grieved her to be so deceptive, nonetheless, she allowed them to believe what they did.

  During the call, she felt as if she caught a chill, and from that point on, she did not feel herself. It was warm in the house, but for some reason, she still shivered. Supposing it to be nerves after her encounter with Mike, she found her heart racing at the mere memory of it. Being in his arms caused her to forget all her uncertainty and apprehension. The intensity of desire she felt for him was quite unexpected. As if an explosion had happened in her heart, she was momentarily prepared to open herself up to him fully. Even at that moment, the recollection of his hands on her face caused another shiver.

  Cracking open the door, she asked, “What are you doing out there?”

  Moving back in through the open door, he admitted, “Cooling down.” Smiling down at her, he reached out and rubbed his hands up and down on her arms. “I need you to know, that was never my intention in coming here. Up until a few minutes ago, I never even thought about trying to get you into bed. I promise you.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  Laughing nervously, he admitted, “I’m thinking about it now, for sure.” He paused and reached for her hand. His heart was beating hard, and she looked so beautiful. Putting the brakes on would take more than he had in his own strength. “Tell me, can you honestly say you know where we stand?”

  Shaking her head, she admitted, “No, not at all.”

  “As long as there is any uncertainty, I don’t think we should go in that direction.”

  Leaning into his chest, she rested her head. “I agree.” And she did. Feeling worse every second, she knew she needed to go and lie down. Whatever brought on the chills was not nerves after all.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he admitted, “I couldn’t be with you that way and then simply get on a plane and go home, as if it never happened. When it does happen, if it does happen, it has to be forever. Agreed?”

  She nodded.

  For a minute more, she simply stood there, head buried in his chest. When she shivered, he asked, “Are you okay?” He lifted her chin to look up at him. “You are pale.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not feeling well.”

  “Let’s get you upstairs to bed. I will come back down and take care of the fire and turn out the lights.” Walking with her up the first flight of stairs, he made the turn with her, continuing up the second flight. He would stand for nothing less than getting her settled into her room. What concerned him most, was that she went from looking fine, to frightfully pale in the matter of a few minutes. He wondered if the phone call had anything to do with it.

  “Is everything okay? That phone call?”

  When they reached her bedroom, she went and sat on the side of the bed. “Oh, that was just my parents.” Lying back, she pulled the quilt over her. “While we were talking, I got a chill. I hope I am not coming down with something.”

  “Hey, the guy at the tree farm,” he reminded her.

  “Oh, no.” While they were tying the tree onto the car, the man who helped them was obviously sick, because he complained, and hacked, and coughed in their direction the entire time. “I am not coughing, though.”

  He pressed his hand to her forehead. “You feel warm. Do you have anything you can take?”

  Without sitting up, she pointed to the bathroom. “Medicine cabinet, and there are paper cups under the sink.”

  Coming back to the bed, he said, “Here, sit up long enough to take this.” She did and then rolled over onto her side and pulled the quilt up to her chin.

  Sitting on the side of her bed, he wished things were different. As he sat there in her bedroom looking around at all the unfamiliar things, he realized he was an outsider. Even though he had known and loved her for more than half the years he had been alive, here, he was not a part of her world at all. He was a visitor, and in that moment, he felt like a stranger, unable to even find an aspirin. In the entire room, all he recognized was the photo of Mikey’s grave he recently sent, and a photo of him and Mikey. It was sitting on her bedside table. Stunned that she had a photo of him, he reached for it and studied it. Of all the pictures of Mikey alone, why had she brought this one, he wondered? He sat it back down, and an unusual wave of emotion washed over him. His family was gone.

  Reaching for her, he stroked her hair, asking, “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, I think I just need some rest. I am sorry to cut the evening short.”

  He stood to go. “Probably safest. I’m sorry you feel bad. Will you come get me if you need anything?”

  “Yes,” she barely mumbled.

  Leaning back down, he kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Good night, sweet Robin.” When she did not answer, he realized she was already drifting off to sleep. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “Love you, too,” she whispered back.

  Certainly, he had not expected her to reply, but when she did, he knew she meant it. If only it could be the kind of love they used to share, though that was something altogether unlikely.

  It was after seven when Mike made his way up to Robin’s room. He had been up for two hours, and every minute of it, he wondered if she was okay. Tapping lightly on her door, he asked, “Robin, are you awake?” Cracking the door open slowly, he found her wrapped up in her quilt and shivering.

  “I am so sick. I have been throwing up most of the night.”

  Rushing to her bedside, he pressed his hand to her forehead. “You are burning up. Why didn’t you come get me?”

  “I couldn’t.” She was so cold and weak there was no way she could have made it down the stairs.

  “Aww, baby.” Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head. “I will get you some more aspirin.”

  She slept off and on for hours, and he stayed there by her side the entire time. It was Christmas morning and she could hardly even sit up, let alone go downstairs. There was a small TV sitting on her dresser, so he watched it with the sound muted throughout the morning and past lunch. There was nowhere else he would rather be than with her. Feeling so ill still, she was unable to eat and would barely drink anything. At one point when her temperature reached 103°, he suggested they go to the emergency room, but she refused, assuring him she would sleep it off.

  Each time she awoke, she found him there, sitting next to her in the bed. Most times, he was holding her hand or rubbing her head. As often as she apologized for ruining their Christmas morning, he shushed her. Next thing she knew, she was drifting off again. At least the vomiting had ended. Her last episode was just after he came in that morning. All the while she hovered over the toilet, he hovered over her, holding her hair back, whispering how sorry he was that she was s
ick. His tenderness toward her was a reminder of years past, when she was so sick early in her pregnancy. Those times too, he stood with her and held her hair.

  At three that afternoon, she awoke again to find him gone. When she heard the sound of him throwing up in the restroom, she moved quickly from the bed. Finding he was kneeling in front of the toilet heaving, she reached for a washcloth, wet it, and pressed it against his forehead.

  Waving his arm, he demanded, “Go get back in bed.”

  Ignoring him, she ran her hand along his back. “I’m sorry.” For several minutes he was sick, and for a brief moment, she was reminded of the many times he vomited that way after drinking, especially when he first started going out after work. Pushing the painful memory away, she prayed silently for him instead. It was what she always did when the whispers came. “Father, please be his comfort, as You have been mine. Thank you that I can forgive him, just as You have forgiven me. He is a new man, and I thank you for the mighty things you have done in his life.”

  Finally, coming to a point where he knew there could possibly be no more to come up, he leaned back against the wall, took the cloth from her, and wiped his mouth. Smiling weakly, he offered, “Merry Christmas. Can you wrap up a toothbrush?”

  She laughed softly. Reaching into the drawer, she pulled a new one out. “Merry Christmas.”

  Sharing the sink, they brushed their teeth and made their way back in to the bed. After taking aspirin with a shared cup, they climbed under two quilts and shivered together. He dragged her nearer and wrapped himself around her. Within seconds, they were both drifting off to sleep.

  The evening wore on like this with Robin feeling better first. She was far from well, but at least her fever had broken. Knowing he must be starving, she slipped from the bed and slowly made her way down the two dreaded flights of steps. Making him dry toast and opening a can of soda, she dragged herself back up the stairs. Back in her bedroom, she sat on his side of the bed. Rubbing his forehead, she asked, “Do you think you can eat something?”