by Kim Petersen
He scooped her into his arms and held her tight while his tears joined hers as the heartache he had been carrying for the last few days broke into an avalanche of agony. “We will always be together,” Damon choked. “The traineeship is only for four years … I will be back. I promise, my beautiful Millie-pie.”
They held on to one another until their sobbing had ceased and the silence between them grew deafening. They clung together, reluctant to allow the other out of arm’s reach. They were desperate to prolong their precious time together, as his whispered reply had come unwillingly when she had asked him when he was to be leaving – “Tomorrow”. They watched the dance between the filtering rays of the afternoon sun upon the glistening water’s surface, and marvelled at the glowing display of colour through the long droopy branches of the willow.
Damon turned to her, holding her eyes hostage in the depths of his. “Amelia Anderson,” he declared, with her chin cupped within his hands, “I have loved you from the start. I will love you forever.”
He leaned in and kissed her with vigour. Full lips caressed against his, savouring the taste his pressing tongue provided, almost desperately as it swept against hers. Her whole body was aroused as her desire fed into his. Sensing her response, Damon explored her lips and mouth with a trace of urgency as they echoed her awakening desire. His tongue probed against hers, tasting the sweetness of her mouth like a decadent dessert. The broad palms of his hands cupped the back of head while his kiss reached an animal-like fervour. There was no escaping the yearning sexual hunger that had lingered for her all these years, now finally released to the surface. She wasn’t turning back. Millie ran her fingers through the back of his thick dark hair, pulling at the ends of the strands that bounced in wisps at the collar of his shirt. She became aware of the pleasurable wet throbbing between her thighs, and longed to feel his hardness penetrate her for the first time.
Damon gently tore himself away from her, leaving her panting while emerald eyes looked to him, losing herself to the passionate caress of his eyes. And while those eyes held hers without falter, his hands came to grasp the material ends of the singlet she was wearing. She lifted her arms obediently as he swept the top up and over her head easily, then turned for him and waited as he fumbled to unclasp the hooks of the laced bra. Millie breathed in and slowly turned back to him, biting down on her bottom lip as she was seized with nervous excitement. A stirring of pleasure ran through her as she felt the intensely powerful, provocative stare of his eyes as they lingered over the ample swell of her breasts. Her breath fell from her lips in shallow bursts as she caught his face becoming intoxicated with desire, yet in his eyes remained the deep tenderness she knew so well. Willing herself on, she stood to her feet and slipped the khaki coloured shorts and her panties down over her buttocks. She gazed to where he still sat on his knees on the rug. The fullness of her bare breasts lifted and fell as her breath heaved in anticipation as she poised before him naked, waiting for the reaction she knew would come.
His eyes perused her naked body, caressing, absorbing and relishing in every detail, every curve and every line of her smooth olive skin. He had waited for so long, and he was not about to rush this moment. His eyes drank her in as he marvelled at the beauty of her body, then they swept up to meet hers, recognising the arousal he found deep within them.
“Millie, you take my breath away,” he murmured.
He reached out and pulled her to him. Pressing his mouth on hers, eager lips teased and kissed as hands caressed in delighted exploration as he tenderly made his way meticulously over every inch of her body. She panted and moaned while her body awakened as his touch found the depths of places they had not ever known. She undressed him, keen to travel her hands over the taut body he offered to her. She kissed and suckled her way across his flesh with vivid curiosity. Delving in unchartered territory, naked skin twisted together, glistening in the afternoon sun, stroking and embracing each other with fingers and tongues. They explored each other until they could no longer withhold the desire that led them onwards. He positioned his hardness between her opening, holding her delicately as if she was but a porcelain shadow of herself, and slowly entered her. Her breath caught in her throat, and a small whimper of erotic pain escaped her lips as she felt the welcoming, burning invasion of him as he pushed his way, burrowing deep into her. Her body opened willingly, and she gripped him as she began to relax and rock with him as they joined together in the throes of their love while she surrendered herself and her body gushed in a climactic finale in unison with his eruption of desire.
They lay against the warmth of the rug, holding each other while catching their breaths. Sorrow weighed heavily in hearts that soared one moment, only to crash into a thousand pieces the next. They wept as they clung together, and laughed moments later, celebrating in their love for each other. They made bittersweet, tender yet desperate love under the giant shadows of the willow tree until the sun was no longer visible and the air became thin with night. Only then did they quietly dress and make the trek back to Rockton together for the last time.
It took every ounce of strength Millie could muster, as they said their farewells, to tear herself away from the potent scent that lingered on the arms that held her tightly against his chest. Her best friend was leaving her, and if it were not for the divine moments she had experienced in the quietly dark hours of the morning, she was certain she could not endure his departure from her life. Reminding herself of those feelings of love and the knowledge she was not alone in this, tears burned in her eyes as she turned away from him.
“This feels so surreal,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said clenching his fists against her back.
“I love you Damon. You are the best part of my life; don’t you ever forget that.”
He smiled down at her. “And you’ll always take my breath away, Millie. I love you.”
His “blue lagoon” flooded her as she drove off into the night, leaving behind only the impression of her kiss against his lips and a broken jewelled heart that hung around his throat.
***
The old screen door squeaked as Millie entered the quiet, dark house upon arriving home soon after saying her last goodbyes to Damon. Her mind swirled with the enormity of her day, unable to grasp the reality of his move. She plodded down to her room and sat on the edge of her bed while contemplating the highs and lows of her day. She felt powerless to push aside her heartache, and to stop the tears, despite the feelings of limitless love she knew was available to her at any given moment. She wallowed in the depths of murky emotions while she cried at the sudden turn of events. She cried until her eyes grew puffy. She sobbed until her head throbbed and she calmed herself with the comfort of a tissue.
Now what? Millie thought, knowing her life would not be the same without its star player. It occurred to her that she had become quite dependent on Damon’s presence in her life since her mother had left. She was so perplexed at the thought of his absence, that she realised she did not know who she was without him. On wobbly feet she went to the mirror to reflect upon the impression she cast in the old looking glass, and asked aloud, “Who is Amelia Anderson?” She noted the puffiness around her eyes, then peered past the outer fleshy shell into the reflection the pupils of her eyes showed her. She was overcome with the old familiar feeling she remembered when she would look at herself when she was a child. A peculiar thought came to her – I am here, and I am there. “I am everywhere,” she whispered in completion of her thought. A sense of serenity crept through her as she repeated the words firmly, “I AM everywhere!” The throbbing in her head gave way to thrilling tingles as she became aware of the power of this statement. The slightest of smiles crossed her lips, and she knew without doubt that the presence of God dwelled within her, and it was up to her to tap into that mighty presence. Armed with this knowledge, she decided she was ready to open the letter from her mother.
She slipped her hand beneath the mattress and pulled out both env
elopes that she had concealed. She placed the first of the letters carefully on her bedside table beside the glass-panelled lamp, handling the envelope delicately as if its contents were a treasure trove. Recognising the nostalgia provoked within her, she realised just how precious this correspondence meant to her, despite previous attempts to push aside the sentimental feelings she still held for her mother. She needed to understand her mother’s decision to leave them, as she knew in her heart their mother’s love for them was sincere, so her reasons must surely have been vital. She took the second, unopened envelope between curious fingers and, catching a deep breath, pried open the sealed envelope.
Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled out an elaborately crafted, handmade birthday card. She looked at the front of the card for a few long moments before exploring its contents. A wave of longing gripped her while she examined every detail of the card’s cover. Fine purple and pink paper butterflies had been painstakingly glued in the centre of the card, creating the illusion of fluttering butterflies. Their pastel painted wings edged in gold, spread out and fluttered with the movement of the card while their tiny bodies were painted with a fine delicate brush tip with strokes of black and gold. There were four detailed butterflies scattered over the front of the card, and as she examined each one carefully, Millie knew her mother’s choice to paint butterflies on a card made for her was not a careless decision, as her mother knew of her love for butterflies.
“They are a symbol of transformation,” her mother would say to her when she would marvel at them as a child, before lightly breezing a kiss on the tip of her little nose. “They remind us to keep our faith.” Millie closed her eyes as she recalled old memories, which flashed through her mind like a movie, as if only yesterday she was in the garden with her mother and baby Ace bobbing and laughing in a croqueted bouncer.
In her mind she saw them playing in their backyard under the huge shade of the avocado tree, and picking daffodils and dandelions from a well tendered garden bed while watching with childlike fascination for the fluttery movements of butterflies. “Mummy, what does faith mean?” Millie had asked, with her little head cocked to one side. “Believing in what we hope for,” her mother had answered with a bright smile. “Always keep your faith my little Millie.”
Her mother had seemed so happy then, she thought. A wistful smile captured her own lips as Millie recalled how she felt as a child towards her mother. Oh, how I had loved my mother! And oh, how I have missed her all these years! Her mother’s words brought to her mind that only a few years ago she was attempting to figure out the power thoughts held over our experiences, knowing there was more to it than what she knew at the time. Faith? So, how about faith plus thought? The idea felt so good that a shiver of excitement surged through her.
“If we take thought and add faith, and believe unwaveringly,” she said, thinking out loud, “Which means we would need to feel that which we want before it has actually manifested in our lives.” That’s where a healthy imagination would come in, she pondered. “Then surely this must be the way to create with our thoughts!” Her smile broadened as the realisation of her spoken words gave her goosebumps on her arms.
She quickly searched through the top draw of her bedside table for a notepad and a pen to write down her thoughts concerning her mission to seek the knowledge of thought creation. With that done, she whispered a “thank you” to the universe, and to her mother for reminding her of butterflies and presenting to her the information resonating through her being.
Millie returned her attention to her card, slipping her fingers between the thin cardboard and revealing a white folded piece of paper that fell to her lap from the folds of the card. Before retrieving the letter, her eyes fell on the simple words written with a black felt tip pen on the inside of the card; they read:
Dearest Millie,
Happy 18th Birthday
Love you always,
Mum xoxo
She studied the uncomplicated text, and although recognising her mother’s handwriting, Millie noticed the mark of her mother’s script was much messier than it had been in the past. The letters seemed to have a wobbly curve to them, almost as if the writer had written these words on a boat at sea. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at the simplicity of the phrase written on the first card she had received from her mother in four years, expecting to have read something far more sentimental. The slightest of underwhelmed sighs crossed her lips while she unfolded the letter; Perhaps this may convey her affections a little more tenderly, Millie thought as her eyes began to tear up again as she began to read the fluctuant script of the letter:
Dearest Millie,
It is vitally important that you understand that not a moment has passed since leaving you and Ace that I have not regretted the critical decision made to not take you both with me. Every minute of every day for the last four years I have been plagued with the images of the smiles in your eyes, and the laughter on your lips. So much so that I barely function as a normal human being anymore. I guess I have failed at creating the life I so wanted, and instead, I am left with a vast empty shell. I was a fool to think I could be happy without my children. Millie, please understand, although it won’t count for much, nor bring back the past years lost … or the years ahead lost to us, this is me saying sorry to you and Ace.
I cannot imagine how you have both grown; I do try, although your childlike images are those that I see in my mind, but I am certain that you have grown into a beautiful young woman, and your brother into a sturdy, handsome teenager. He will be a force to be reckoned with, just like your father.
I know it is time for you to discover the truth, Millie. I left with you a key in the letter I placed in your journal the night I left. You were out on your first date, and I always wondered how that night went for you. The lock the key turns you will find buried about three feet deep, between the avocado tree in the backyard and the fence line. There, you will find a wooden box which I have placed within a black garbage bag before burying, to help keep it preserved. There Millie, you will find the truth. There you will find why I felt the need to flee.
No matter what you find, dear Millie, before and always, listen to the whisper within you, for there only the truth shall suffice.
Always remember, it has always been a privilege to call you my daughter.
Love you always,
Mum xoxo
Chapter Sixteen
A ce tossed and turned in his bed, trying to fight off the constant thumping noise that persisted in its efforts to rouse him from his peaceful haven of sleep. Large hands punched at the pillow as he finally gave up trying to sleep through the pounding racket. Eyes narrowed when they fell on the digits of his bedside clock. Who could be making such a noise at 2am? He scrunched up his face as he tuned groggy ears into the whereabouts of the offending noise. He had occupied the last of the bedrooms at the end of the creaky hallway for as long as he could remember, and for as long as he could remember, the street noise had never filtered in far enough to infringe upon the ten hours sleep he required every night. Come to think of it, not much of the house noise usually did either, he thought, as annoyance gave way to curiosity while his ears honed into the thumping noise that seemed to be coming from their backyard. The one small window in his room looked out to the back of the house, showcasing quite the ordinary view of their backyard. He and his father had worked tirelessly over the last few years to tame the wilderness it once was, leaving his view now unobstructed. As he listened to the noise and the pause between thumps, he realised it sounded like a shovel hitting a somewhat stubborn piece of the earth. Oh my God! A shiver ran through him as an absurd thought crossed his mind – What if someone is burying a dead body in our yard? He froze in the darkness for a moment, as he allowed the horror of the thought to grow in his imagination. Maybe I should go and wake up Dad, after all there might be a murderer in our midst and we may be in grave danger!
He rubbed at the sleepiness in his eyes while
he sat upright, pushing Benny Boy to the floor beside his bed as he did so. “Sorry Benny Boy,” he whispered to his old friend as he leaned over, fumbling to retrieve his soft tatty body and replace him on the comfort of his bed. He cocked his spiky head to one side as he noticed the noise had stopped. He decided then that before waking up his father he would brave a quick look first, just in case they tried to get away. At least then he might be able to describe the murderer to the police later. He would be quite the hero, and Ace was certain that heroes get a take-out treat, and maybe something even cooler, like a new computer. He swung solid legs to the floor and, led by the slivers of moonlight shining between the folds of the pale curtains that hung over his window, he made quiet, nervous steps to peer out to the backyard. He inspected the darkened yard, blue eyes scanning the garden bed, then further into the back reaches of the yard. Oh! The killer has left! he conceded, as thoughts of Hawaiian pizzas and a new computer screen faded from his imagination. While contemplating this sad plight, he remained at the window as his attention was caught briefly by the luminous shine of the rising moon that seemed to be magically suspended in a vast blackened space.
He uttered an appreciative “Wow!” as he watched the rising moon, as if really seeing the night sky for the first time. Then a flash from behind the shadow of the avocado tree caught his attention. He peered towards the tree, his chest tightening. He crouched down so the tops of his eyes were only barely able to peer over the ledge of the window, and watched with heart pounding for the first glance of the killer. He sucked in a sharp breath as he caught the first glimpse of the prowler burying the dead under the avocado tree. Finger nails dug into the crumbling old wood of the window ledge, and bare toes gripped the floorboards. He dared not breathe or make any sound in case it alerted the killer and he would become the next victim before he could alert his sleeping father. A chill ran through his spine, and Ace almost screamed when he saw the dark figure turn from the avocado tree and walk hastily towards their back porch. He shot up to his feet, catching and pulling a hanging curtain as it entangled around his hand in his frenzy. He froze and looked outside for any signs the murderer had heard the clumsy commotion at his window.
