“Not because of my sense of commitment.”
I reached my hand out to touch his cheek, my heart bursting with love for my husband. This was right, this was meant to be.
Larry held my hand to his cheek. “Not because you pity me?”
“No, Larry, not because I pity you.”
“Why then, Mick?”
“Because I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you in it.”
I watched as he closed his eyes and swallowed several times, seemingly having come to some conclusion.
“There will have to be some changes, Mick.”
“What kind of changes?” I asked.
“I want us to go to a sex therapist—” he started to say when I interrupted him. He was embarrassed as hell to say it and I didn’t want him to be.
“We don’t need…”
“We do,” he continued. “I want to learn how to please you. I want to rock your world and have you screaming out my name. I want us to reach the peak together. I don’t want you thinking of him when you’re with me. I want to know you’re not faking it.”
“Larry, I didn’t.”
I stopped when I saw the stubborn set to his jaw. He was mentally pulling away from me. So I stopped myself from the answer I was going to give and said instead, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s not only what I want, it’s what we need,” he said with authority.
“What about everything else?” I asked, “Our past baggage?”
“I’ve already started going to counseling,” Larry answered.
“Larry, I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to us. I should have spoken up, said something. I’m as much to blame as you are.”
I felt my body begin to tremble, this time accompanied by the same tingle of excitement I’d felt in the hospital. These feelings were for my husband.
“Larry, I love you, I always have. I guess I forgot just how much for a while. Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me?”
I watched as he walked toward the mantle and reached for a set of shining new keys and handed them to me. They had a gold name plate that said, Mick.
“I’ve already forgiven you,” Larry answered one second before his lips closed over mine. I felt the beat of his heart against my own.
Regardless of what had happened in the past, that was not where I was, or where I belonged. I belonged here, now, in this time, with this man, in his arms. He was my destiny.
I thanked God as Larry twirled me around, both of us crying. It seemed we stood like that forever before Larry let go of me.
“One more thing.” He went across the room and flipped through a bunch of papers. “I got this for you,” he said with a smile.
“What is it?” I asked, holding out my hand for the rumpled paper.
When I looked down and saw Viola’s number and address, my eyes filled again with tears.
“I got that for you. I thought you needed it. Mick, I just want you to know, I didn’t cheat her.”
“I know you didn’t,” I said knowing in my heart that he hadn’t. I’d never thought that he had. I clutched the paper to me. “Thank you.”
“Can I ask you a favor now?” He smiled hesitantly at me. “I want to go with you to see Viola.”
“Larry,” I moaned, going once again into his arms. “Oh, Larry, thank you.”
“I’m sorry, Mick. I should have tried harder to listen to you. I should never have forced you to break a promise.”
“Its okay now, it’s in our past.” I glanced toward the stairs. “Let’s forget it for now.”
His eyes followed mine and I watched as his filled with raw longing, making my toes curls with desire.
“I think as much as I want you right now, that we need to excise all our ghosts first. Let’s visit Viola.”
“When?” I was looking at him, totally awe struck.
“How about now?” he replied.
I made the call and within a couple of minutes we were heading for Viola’s. Once there we walked hand in hand up the rickety stairs to ring Viola’s bell.
A feeling of absolute peace filled my spirit. For the first time in my life I was truly happy. This was indeed my destiny. I was home. And it was time for both Larry and me to live again.
Epilogue
Today is my twenty-seventh anniversary. I awake and my arm snakes over to the opposite side of the bed seeking my husband’s warmth. He’s not there.
That’s only one of the changes we’ve gone through in this past year. We no longer wake at the exact moment every day. Sometimes, but not every day. Perhaps this comes from the months of sleeping in separate beds alone.
I have the feeling I’m being watched. I open my eyes slowly and smile at Larry. He’s sitting in a colorful chair, the kind Hawaii is famous for.
We’re on vacation—just the two of us, on the beautiful island of Oahu, Hawaii. “Hi,” I say sleepily to Larry, watching him, his love for me evident in his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve been watching you sleep and thinking how much I love you.” He smiled. “I was also thinking how very lucky we are. For a while there, I doubted that we would make it.”
He moved toward me. I adjusted my body so he could lie beside me. He kissed me gently, and then with a sense of urgency, the kiss deepened. I tasted the pineapple he’d been eating.
That’s another thing we’ve changed. We’ve relaxed the rules on our sex life. We no longer have to brush our teeth or shower before we make love.
I also quit my job. I thought it was best to keep myself out of the path of temptation and our marriage didn’t need the extra strain. As for Jeremy and Dimitra, they know their time together will come again.
My relationship with the children is slowly changing. Larry and I have been to see Derrick twice for a couple of days. We also went to see Shannon, just to check out her living situation.
I relented and am now sending her boxes of food each month, no extra money, but I don’t want her to go hungry either.
Beth and Brigid call often and always speak with me for a couple of minutes before asking for their father. As for Erica, that’s going to take a bit longer.
Blaine has been spending a lot of time out of town on speaking engagements. He calls often and when he’s in town we see each other.
Larry has met with him twice. While I can’t say that he likes him, he doesn’t hate him, so that’s a start. I think the fact that they were both abandoned by their mothers and shuffled from foster home to foster home gave them each a better understanding of the other.
As for the counseling, we’re making tremendous progress. The sex therapist hasn’t hurt either. Now more times than not when Larry climbs the peaks, I’m right there along with him.
I feel Larry’s hand sliding beneath the flimsy gown I’m wearing. I turn to him trembling with want and need. I’m so amazed at what I almost lost. I bury myself in my husband’s love, determined not to ever forget the things I’ve learned this past year.
The Beginning
Here’s a sneak peek of the second book in
the Undying Love trilogy,
The Gift
by Dyanne Davis
Coming 2011 from W.D. Publishing
Blaine sat on the jet, his eyes closed behind the dark glasses he wore so often now. It had taken him less than a week to survey the damage in his San Francisco apartment and start the rebuilding process. In the meantime he needed a place to live. So he was heading to his spacious suburban home forty minutes west of Chicago
Funny when he’d flown to San Francisco he’d had thoughts of staying. Problem was, even with a psychic, life didn’t always turn out as planned. For assurance he’d even drawn Tarot cards for himself. Too bad he hadn’t asked if he would be burned out of his west coast apartment.
Blaine lifted the glasses a tiny bit from his face to swipe at the sweat that had beaded between his brows. He didn’t want to take the glasses off because for the past week he’d taken
quite a bit of ribbing, some of it good-natured, some of it mean spirited. Mostly people questioned if he were a true psychic, why didn’t he know his apartment was going to catch on fire?
In all honesty he’d answered, ‘I’m not God.’ Now he was tired of the questions, tired of all the answers. He just wanted to go home undisturbed. If he didn’t wear the glasses, strangers would be pestering him with requests for readings. He accepted that as a price for his fame.
On most occasions he handled those requests with a modicum of dignity and humor offering the person asking his card. He couldn’t chance it now; he was in too weak of a state psychically. The fumes from the smoke had wrecked havoc in his body. He needed time to heal.
Right now he could ill afford strangers pulling at his energy field. It was all that he could do to keep the barrier of energy surrounding his body, keeping out the thoughts of his fellow passengers.
Sleep was pulling at him when Blaine sat up with a start. He rubbed at his temple feeling the beginning of what promised to be one doozy of a headache. He closed his eyes in order to better focus his powers, to see who was having such an effect on him. Not since the first time he met Michelle had he felt such a dramatic reaction. Blaine wanted to know who it was and what was happening.
As he focused his energy the feeling became stronger until at last he was on his feet, standing, moving forward without wanting to, yet drawn to someone’s pain. His hand moved unobtrusively through the air. Since finding his mother he was discovering new powers he’d never known he possessed.
He smiled to himself, the thought that he had only to put out his hand and connect with someone else’s energy surprising. After a lifetime of dealing with the unexplained, Blaine was comfortable with his gifts of clairaudience. He didn’t have a name for this newest emerging gift.
The best way he could explain it was mining for energy. He used his hands much the same as he used his mind when speaking to those who had departed this life and were waiting. He focused.
Blaine stopped, his eyes landing on a woman of petite stature. Even from a sitting position he could tell she was short. He stood over the woman perusing her body in a quick perfunctory manner. She was slender also. His gaze fell on the woman’s curly, dark brown hair and a lump formed in his throat.
Blaine stepped back as an irresistible urge to reach out and touch her clutched at his throat. It took all his psychic energy to resist the pull. A tightening began in his groin. Good Lord, not now. He panicked and moved backwards down the aisle. No woman had ever affected him so quickly.
“What is it that you want?”
Blaine stopped his backwards descent and looked down into the biggest pair of chocolate brown eyes he’d ever seen. For a moment he thought his heart would stop. Despite the woman’s cold stare he felt drawn to her.
The sadness that had emanated from her to bring him to her now washed over him in waves. He clicked his tongue against his teeth trying to feel the woman’s energy.
Damn. That had never happened before. She’d placed a block to keep him out.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “My name’s Blaine MaDia.”
He smiled at the woman while his skin began a slow crawl of awareness. It wasn’t so much her looks as her aura. In looks she was beautiful true enough, but he’d met more than his share of beautiful women. The exception to this woman was her eyes. Staring at her for a moment something pulled at him more than her physical appearance. It was the woman’s spirit that held an intense fascination for Blaine.
“I’m sorry, Mr. MaDia. Am I supposed to know you?”
Blaine tried again to probe gently at the woman’s thoughts. When that didn’t work he tried more aggressively, but still she held out against him blocking any entrance. This stirred his curiosity making Blaine wonder what it was the woman was hiding so possessively that she’d thrown up a shield against a stranger.
“Mr. MaDia, did you want something?”
Now he was standing there feeling like a fool, his own psyche open for probing, his defenses weakened. He knew better than to continue with his questions, yet he felt compelled to press on. Never in all the years since Blaine became a professional psychic had he ever used that gift to seek out females, or to impress. He was now embarrassed and could feel the flush of that embarrassment with the next words he uttered.
“I’m Blaine MaDia, the psychic on television.”
He gulped. The woman appeared unimpressed. “I was just walking, I didn’t want anything.” Blaine continued.
Still nothing. The woman simply stared at him, her deep-set chocolate eyes turning to liquid cocoa. Now besides wanting to touch her, Blaine wanted to stand there and take a long drink from her eyes.
“I don’t know you, Mr. MaDia and I don’t mean to appear rude, but I’m very tired. I paid for two first class seats so that I wouldn’t be disturbed.” She tilted her head slightly letting Blaine know she wanted him to leave.
“Sorry I bothered you,” he murmured and turned to walk back to his seat. He paused and stuck out his hand toward the woman. “Nice to meet you Miss…Miss…”
He waited for an acknowledgment and a name, but the woman looked at him with mere curiosity, ignored his outstretched hand and cast her gaze back on the book in her hand.
Surely the woman had to be a psychic, Blaine thought. At the very least, she was familiar with psychic gifts because she was using them so effectively to keep him out. And he wanted in.
Author’s Information:
Dyanne Davis is an award winning author. She lives in a Chicago suburb with her husband Bill, and their son Bill Jr. An avid reader her love of the written word turned into a desire to write. She retired from nursing more than a decade ago to pursue her lifelong dream.
Dyanne has been a presenter of numerous workshops. She has a local cable show, The Art of Writing in her hometown to give writing tips to aspiring writers.
When not writing you can find her with a book in her hands, her greatest passion next to spending time with her husband Bill and son Bill Jr. Whenever possible she loves getting together with friends and family
A member of Romance writers of American she served in many capacities for her local chapter, Windy City, including two terms as president.
Dyanne Davis loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at [email protected]
You can write to her at
P.O. Box 1218 Bolingbrook IL. 60440
THE AFFAIR Page 32