by Jean Winter
The bedroom door loomed forbidding and cold; her fingers were shaking so hard she could barely loosen her robe's sash. Please, Father. Let it be fast. Lyra leaned in to turn the kn—What?
It was locked!
Lyra tried the knob again. Definitely locked. Walk away. This is your excuse. But she hesitated. No. She had promised. Lyra cleared her throat.
“My lord?” She knocked lightly
“Lyra,” a husky voice slurred, sounding so near that it made her jump, “… I am so sorry.” He must be standing just on the other side, only inches away but for the slab of wood separating them.
“My lord … did you lock the door?”
It was a moment before he responded. “Find a place to sleep, Lyra. We will talk tomorrow.”
Had he—had he changed his mind? Oh no! One week. ONE week! He'd made a decision. Lyra pressed a hand to the grain, searching, as if she might see through it to him. “My lord, have you changed your mind? Is that it?” Panic rose in her.
“I need to sleep this off.”
“My lord, please,” she begged softly. “Don't turn me in … don't turn me in.” No answer. God no! Lyra leaned her head against the wood surface in tortured misery. “I'm sorry I was so scared earlier. I won't push you away. I'll be quiet.”
“Lyra.” It took a long time for him to continue, like he was having difficulty even forming the words. “I do no' want you anymore. This is over.” He sounded absolutely wretched.
No, no, no! Don't give me to them! Don't turn me away! She jiggled at the knob again.
“My lord, let me in. Let me come to you.” Lyra fought back a sob. “I can be what you want. I can do what you—”
“Stop!” J'Kor said rather forcibly. “You do no' have to pretend anymore.” Then he went quiet.
“My lord? … My lord?” No answer again. Lyra pressed her ear to the door. She heard a shuffling noise, but nothing more. She jiggled the knob one more time. “My lord, please let me stay with you. Please!”
He was finished with her. He didn't want to deal with this crazy situation anymore! Heavenly Father, what do I do? Lyra turned, her back to the door, tears streaming, her mind in a whirl, but the only concrete idea happening now was how wasted she felt. She slid to the floor and curled her legs up under the warmth of her robe. What should I do? What should I do? she cried.
She pressed her cheek to the wood. “I am here, my lord,” she tried once more, praying that he was still listening. “I am right here. Whatever you need …”
# # #
“… sometimes, when a papa is lonely for a mama … the nights are the hardest time of day to get through,” Kade heard Lyra gently tell his daughter.
He stood dumbly in the hallway just outside Jos'lie's door, having just listened to Lyra's explanation on why she couldn't sleep in Jos'lie's room tonight, and he suddenly felt like the monster she had once accused him of being. What was he doing? Coming to drag her away like an animal in his drunken fit of urgency because she was taking too long being the parent to his daughter that he was not willing to be! The guilt ate at Kade.
He had forced himself on her, terrified her, and here she was caring tenderly for Jos'lie's welfare—even defending him and making excuses for his actions! Hearing Lyra speak like that had stopped Kade in his tracks, but now he didn't know what to do. The inside of his head was a muddled fog.
Earlier, when he had come to the conclusion that it was not really intimacy she objected to, just him, well, that was kind of hard to take. That was when he kind of lost it. It hurt too much, and dulling his senses with the liquid pleasure originally meant for their joining consummation seemed fitting.
Kade leaned against the wall in the hall, a kaleidoscope of churning, raw emotions. Desire. Anger. Shame. Guilt. Each new color blended sluggishly into the next.
Suddenly he realized Lyra had finished the soft song Jos'lie had coerced out of her. She might emerge from the room at any moment! Stumbling, he began to retreat, feeling like a coward, for he could not bear to face her.
Kade made it to his room and peered blearily around. Right there on the bed he had leered over her, like a cretin, like someone he would have beaten to a pulp had he chanced upon, forcing a woman like that. He had been ready to hurt her! Kade clutched at his pounding head and moaned.
There was no sign of Lyra coming back yet. She probably wouldn't, anyway. How could he expect it of her? She was going to dawdle around with Jos'—Lyra appeared at the hallway.
Good gods! Is she actually intending to keep her promise? He quickly closed the door and locked it. He couldn't face her, couldn't let her in. His personal creeds, his morals, his limits, they were all so blurred at the moment that he didn't trust himself. Moons! Everything was so screwed up right now!
You need to get rid of her. Turn her over to the proper authorities. She will only drive you to madness and ruin!
Kade put his forehead against the door. No! He couldn't do that to her. It would haunt him the rest of his life.
She is a Believer. A traitor. A scheming rebel, the other side said.
No, she is kind and courageous. Honest to a fault.
She will betray you.
She will honor me.
Stop! Kade clutched at his hair, he had to decide something. Fast.
Okay. A deal. She chickens out over coming back, you send her to prison where she rightfully belongs. But if she honors her promise? You defend her to you dying breath.
Kade nodded dizzily to himself. Sure. Deal. At least now his head could clear a little.
The door knob wiggled. It wiggled again. She will take that as an excuse and walk away.
“My lord?”
Bloody Zeth'! Sal was right. She does have more balls! The guilt swelled to tsunamic proportions and Kade was drowning. “Lyra” he managed to croak through a thick tongue, “… I am so sorry.” He placed a hand on the door, hoping she could sense his sincerity.
“My lord … did you lock the door?”
Was it not obvious that his miserable being couldn't bear her presence? But this was a terrible time for him to try to talk. His brain was too clouded. He blurted, “Find a place to sleep, Lyra. We will talk tomorrow.”
“My lord, have you changed your mind? Is that it?” she said. She sounded so close he could almost feel her just on the other side.
Kade shut his eyes in vexation. As if making himself apologize behind a self-imposed barrier was not humiliating enough, she wanted him to vocalize the terms of his utter surrender right now, too? “I need to sleep this off,” was all he could manage to say.
“My lord, please! Don't turn me in … don't turn me in.”
She sounded so frightened, but Kade couldn't bear to start on that subject tonight. He even wondered if the hasty deal he had just made with himself was viable, or even intelligent. He needed time to sleep and cleanse his system.
Lyra's anxiety carried clearly through the inch and a half of wood. “I'm sorry I was so scared earlier. I won't push you away. I'll be quiet.”
Henna's bosom! How hard had that been for her to say? It was the closest to an offer of giving herself he had heard yet. “Lyra …” Kade didn't know what to say next.
If he was going to continue sheltering her, it would have to be different between them from now on. He could not view her as his khari'na anymore. He respected her too much. Their relationship would have to be set up purely as a business contract without any hint of leverage. She was an equal, someone he had come to care for, despite all their differences, who needed his help, and he would give it. He would give it as a friend. Holy Henna, he was so weary all of a sudden.
“I do no' want you anymore,” he finally managed. That was a lie, but he had to reassure her. “This is over.”
The door knob jiggled again, more insistent this time. Apparently, she didn't believe him. “My lord, let me in. Let me come to you,” Lyra pleaded. “I can be what you want. I can do what you—”
“Stop!” he growled, and Kade didn't kn
ow if that was meant for her or him. Her words were so tempting, almost more than he could resist. “You do no' have to pretend anymore.”
His dizziness suddenly increased and Kade slid to the floor to stop from falling. His back against the door, he stretched his legs out before him. Hmmm. This was rather comfortable. Maybe he would just rest here a while.
From somewhere up above and sounding very far away, Lyra's voice broke through the fog. “My lord? … My lord?” she cried. “My lord, please let me stay with you. Please.”
Until the day I die, Sugarpip.
Kade began to drift into a stupor. He ought to climb into bed, but he didn't really want to move from that spot. It was as close to her as he could let himself be … for the last time.
“I am here, my lord,” he presently heard very near his ear. “I am right here. Whatever you need …”
Kade turned his cheek to the panel and touched fingertips to the grain of the wood over his shoulder. Lyra, stay with me …
When Kade awoke, his head was still pounding, but he felt more like himself. It was still night, and he got up and unlocked the door. Pain shot through his skull. Yuck! He needed to go take something for this headache.
Oh.
There was Lyra, just outside, curled up on the floor asleep, evidently still trying to keep her promise. You are definitely one in a million, beautiful woman. But the smile that crept to Kade's face was a sad one. He wanted to reach out and stroke away that bit of hair that had fallen in her face, cradle her in his arms and carry her to bed so she could rest more comfortably, but he couldn't. He had no right to touch her like that. He never did. And it had to start now.
Squatting, he gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “Lyra, go find somewhere more comfortable, like the sofa,” he said as evenly as he could in his shame. At two in the morning. With his head splitting.
She stirred. “Hmmm? My lord!” she cried as she came to. “Please forgive me. I was afraid.” And she hasted to get up.
“You had every right,” he admitted gruffly. “I am just going to get something for this headache. You should sleep on the sofa. There are blankets in the linen closet.”
“You-you don't want me here anymore? You are going to turn me in?”
Kade grimaced, not quite able to look her in the face. “On the contrary, it seems you have worked your way so far under my skin, I might never be able to dig you out. I am afraid you are stuck with me … indefinitely.” Then he walked past, leaving her standing dumbfounded.
After popping a few pills in the lavatory and splashing some water on his face, he headed back to find Lyra quietly setting up a bed up for herself at the sofa. Kade fetched her the pillow from his bed she had been using. “Here. I will see about preparing the trundle in Jos'lie's room for a more permanent sleeping arrangement later.”
She gazed up at him with questioning eyes. “Are you serious about this, my lord?”
“My name is Kade, Mrs. Woodrose,” he said, trying to smile. “Get some sleep. We will talk more when it is light.”
A hand on his arm stopped his retreat. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Kade left without another word, and without quite knowing why, he settled himself in bed on what had come to be her side. He breathed deeply of her lingering scent. Who was he kidding? He knew exactly why he did that. And he wished he had kept her pillow.
# # #
Tears of relief rolled off Lyra's face onto her pillow as she stretched over the sofa. He did respect her. He cared. Her sniff and tired wipe of her nose was accompanied by a smile. Thank you, God! Apparently, He had known what He was doing, sending her to this man.
Lyra snuggled under the old blanket, feeling more content in the man's home than she would have ever thought possible, and swiftly fell asleep.
Jon? Jon!
It was that dream again, but the filmy curtain separating them was so thin this time that Lyra could clearly make out his every feature. Jon smiled at her and Lyra drank in his image like a fierce thirst. It felt like ages since she had been able to gaze upon his face!
“Jon, please talk to me!” she cried again—just like she had every time.
Jon's grin widened and he began to walk along the endless curtain barrier, his bright eyes never leaving her. Lyra followed hopelessly, testing once more the strength of the curtain's material. Still impenetrable. Well, at least she could watch him. Be near him.
Suddenly, Jon stopped. He reached for her, and his hand passed through! The warm, solid pressure of his fingers caressing the side of her face was like heaven. Lyra clasped her hands over them, holding them there to her cheek, fearing lest he retracted his hand, it wouldn't be able to pass through again.
Then Jon parted the curtain and stepped through entirely. “Hey there, my Twitterbug. And how are we doing today?”
Lyra's joy knew no rival. “Jon! Jon!” She threw her arms round his neck, laughing even as she cried.
His returning, exuberant embrace was his typical enveloping monster hug, lifting Lyra off her feet and swinging her around once. Lyra laughed again and found his lips, pressing hers hard against them. Her fingers crawled through his thick, ruddy brown curls and she relished in all the familiarity of her husband of fifteen years.
He was dressed in one of his usual work outfits, and even smelled the same. She kissed him again, a gesture he was only too happy to return.
“Jon! I have missed you … so much!” she breathed in between kisses, the tears flowing unchecked.
“I have been here the whole time,” he chuckled in his animated gruffness as he kissed her back. “Still waiting for you.”
Lyra took Jon's beloved, broad face in her hands and gazed deeply into his hazel eyes. “Why could you not come through before?”
“Oh,” he smiled, “it wasn't the right time.”
One more kiss and Lyra pressed her head against his chest. The frenzy of the first moment past, she succumbed to the simple pleasure of just soaking in his warmth and the feel of his arms around her. “Jon, don't leave me again. Say we can stay like this forever.”
“Well, eventually,” he whispered, stroking her hair comfortingly. “But you have more life to live, first. It is not your time.”
Lyra whimpered, “No. I want to be done. I want to stay right here with you now! Things are such a mess for me there—”
“Shhhh,” he soothed. “Your work is not yet finished, and our children still need their mother.”
She looked up at him forlornly. “But Jon, I don't know how I can get to them!”
“You will find a way. I have faith in you.” Jon kissed her once more then took her by the hand. “Come here.”
Their surroundings were instantly transformed and Lyra found herself in a space brimming with life—a green meadow, bordering majestic trees, flowers, and a melodic, bubbling brook running right through the middle. Jon took her under a tree and pulled her down with him to lie in the thick, soft grass. Lyra eagerly placed her head on his shoulder, cuddling up to him as close as she could.
Now this—this is right! This is the way it should be. The way it used to be. Her next breath was a sigh of happiness, of longing. The world could tumble down around them and she would not care, so long as she had Jon with her.
After a quiet minute Jon said, “I know it seems pretty bad at times, but you have to remember that there is always a purpose to Father's plans—even suffering and heartache have their place.”
“I know, I know,” Lyra droned grumpily. “But knowing that still doesn't make it easy.”
Jon laughed softly in response. “It is not meant to be easy—”
“Just worth it,” Lyra reluctantly finished for him.
“Good. Don't forget the teachings.”
Lyra lay for a moment, just basking in his touch. Then she said, “It is already getting harder to remember some of them. I don't have my scriptures or our doctrinal texts. The stories, the commandments …”
She was given an affectionate squeeze. “That is not e
ntirely true.”
“What do you mean?” she said, lifting her head, and Jon grinned that beguiling grin she knew so well.
“Sorry. Can't tell you.”
“Why not?” she challenged.
In one swift move, Jon rolled her over so he was lying on top. He kissed her on the forehead. “Because,” his lips trailed down for a kiss of her mouth, “I …” then her neck, “am not … ” he finished at her collarbone, “allowed.”
Lyra's disgruntled pout got wiped away with another kiss to her lips. A long one. She started to melt. She wrapped her arms about her husband's neck, tighter, never wanting to let go. But Jon soon pulled away. “Twitterbug,” he whispered, “I'm afraid we don't have that much time.”
Something cold and wet snuffled at her face.
“Remember your mark, Lyra.” Jon sounded far away and Lyra eyes flashed open.
“Ahskr!”
Lyra moaned as the dog performed his sunrise greeting of dog kisses to the nose. He whined and whipped his tail, happy that she was awake now, but a great sadness welled up as Lyra peered around at her reality. Her pillow was wet with tears. She gave Ahskr a melancholy scratch behind the ear. “Why did you have to wake me up just then?” she lamented. “Why couldn't you have waited twenty more minutes?” Or two hours? Or two days?
Shutting her eyes again, Lyra tried to recall every detail, every breath, of her dream about Jon before it faded into gray forgetfulness. Please stay with me.
Then movement from Jos'lie's room made Lyra get up and start removing the traces of her not sleeping with the girl's father. She gathered up the bedding, trying to disregard her stiffness from spending part of the night on the floor. Jos'lie skipped out and went straight to her for a hug.
“Good morrow, Mama!”
“Good morrow, Sweetness. Were you able to get some sleep?”
“Uh, huh! Good dreams.”
Jos'lie let go and spun for J'Kor's room.
“Uh, Jos'lie.” He would probably appreciate sleeping in a little this morning. “Your papa wasn't feeling too well last night. Can you let him sleep some more and come help me cook breakfast, instead?”