Kindred Souls

by Ellie Wade

“There?” He looks at the large silver Viking range where I took him in my mouth as he made eggs this morning. My heartbeat quickens at the memory. “What about here?” He runs his hand across the table where his mouth worshiped between my legs until I was screaming after we consumed said eggs.

  “Amos,” I protest, my voice coming out in a whimper. “My French toast.” I supply the only argument I have.

  “Eat,” he urges. “I’ll watch,” he says as he frees himself from his boxers. Circling his fingers around his shaft, he starts to rub up and down in long and leisurely motions.

  My mouth falls slack at the sight, and a rush of need soaks my panties.

  “You play dirty.” I push away from the table and stand, stepping out of my satin fabric covering me.

  “Your shirt,” Amos says, moving his hand against himself with more fervor as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

  I rip off my shirt, leaving me completely bare, and I straddle him in the chair. His hands grab my ass cheeks and squeeze as I sink onto him. We release a collective moan as I start bouncing against him, my orgasm instantly starting to build. He releases his hold on my ass and threads his fingers through my hair, pulling my face toward his. He kisses me hard and rough.

  Our lips crave more.

  Our tongues explore, deep.

  The kiss is intoxicating and almost painful in its all-consuming desperation.

  I ride him, my relentless need urging me faster.

  He pulls his mouth from mine and sucks at my breasts, pulling my nipples into his mouth.

  “I’m close.” he draws out.

  “Me, too,” I whine against the sweat-soaked skin of his neck.

  He lowers a hand between my legs, and with a rub and pinch, we’re moaning out our release together.

  Still atop him, I lean against his chest and catch my breath.

  “How are we going to go back to real life where we can’t fuck at the dining table during every meal?” He bites my shoulder playfully.

  “I know,” I agree. “How are we going to go to work this week when I know that you’re not going to press me against the wall and pound into me?”

  “I mean, I could?” He quirks his brows and supplies a playful smirk.

  “Yes because that would be completely appropriate and professional.” I chuckle.

  “You do own the place,” he kids.

  “And as the owner, I have to hold on to a shred of scruples.” I kiss his forehead.

  He peppers kisses against my arm. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Always.”

  “You’re not on birth control, right?”

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “And we’re not taking any precautions?” He eyes me in question.

  I’ve thought about this a lot, but I never talked it over with Amos, which I realize isn’t right.

  “Well, they say Love was a miracle baby. I still have a lot of scar tissue and blockage from the accident. The chances of conceiving another baby naturally are low, but it could happen again because it happened once. I guess, in my mind, I figured if it happened at some point, it was meant to be. But I should’ve talked about it with you. I’m sorry. It’s not likely that I’d get pregnant, but what if I did? What do you think about that?”

  Amos smiles. “I think that’d make me a very happy man.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. You and me, we’re forever. We’ve always been. And now that we’ve added this”—he nods toward where we’re still connected—“I’m even more sure of it. I never want to love a woman, kiss a woman, or touch a woman if that woman isn’t you. You’ve owned my heart since we were seven, and you’ll own all of me until my last breath. We can take it slow and do it on your terms when you’re ready, but we’re forever.”

  “Mutt and Cookie against the world?” I grin.

  “Then. Now. Always.”

  I lean into him and hug him tight.

  “I’m hungry,” I add.

  “Well, here.” Reaching around me, he stabs a piece of toast with his fork and brings it around to my mouth. “Let me help you with that.”

  A trickle of syrup falls against my chest as I bite the French toast. It’s cold and soggy but still good. Amos repeats the movement, placing another piece in my mouth, and another trickle of sticky maple syrup falls to my chest.

  “I’m getting all sticky,” I protest with a giggle.

  He leans down and licks a glob of syrup that’s fallen on my breast.

  “You’re just spreading it. You know?” I laugh.

  “Well, finish eating, and we’ll get cleaned up.” He puts the full fork into my mouth again.

  “Maybe I should do it.” I protest with a wide smile across my face. I chew the huge piece of soggy bread in my mouth.

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m committed now.”

  Amos finishes feeding me and then takes my hand as he leads us outside. We run down the wooden steps leading to the white sandy beach. I look around the grassy sand dunes, making sure we’re indeed alone. I don’t want to scar an innocent child out building a sandcastle.

  We’re alone, just Amos and me. There’s nothing but grassy dunes, porcelain-colored sand, and blue waves as far as the eye can see. This property is heaven on earth.

  “You ready?” Amos nods toward the water.

  I pull in a breath, knowing the water will be cold. Lake Michigan is so big, and frozen for much of the year. It warms up in the summer months but is still pretty chilly compared to other bodies of water.

  “Yeah.” I squeeze his hand.

  Hands clasped, we run into the waves. I shriek as the cool water assaults my skin, taking my breath away.

  “Come on,” Amos urges, pulling me in deeper. “You’ll get used to it.”

  He’s right. After a few minutes, the water feels relatively warm, or perhaps my skin has gone numb, but either way, it’s pleasant. The lake feels like an ocean in that it’s so big, one can’t see the end past the horizon. It feels infinite. Unlike the water of the ocean, this water is void of all salt.

  I lie back and float atop the bobbing water as the sun warmed my cool skin.

  “You’re right. I need to buy a home on the lake.” I mutter.

  “Right?” Amos floats beside me.

  We swim and kiss and play in the waves, skinny dipping at its finest.

  Eventually, we decide to head back up to the house. I dash across the sun-baked sand because the bottoms of my feet protest the heat.

  One of the cool features of the house is an outdoor shower. It’s a large square built from the same wood as the deck. The wooden walls are chest high so one can take in the surroundings as they shower.

  “My lake house is going to have one of these,” I say, stepping beneath the warm spray of the shower.

  “Definitely.”

  “What game should we play when we’re finished?” I ask.

  We searched the house for games last night and came up with Star Wars Monopoly and Harry Potter Clue. I’m convinced that past renters left them. I can’t imagine Betty and Florence playing either.

  “I’m thinking Clue,” Amos says. “We’re more apt to finish that game. Monopoly can take forever, and we tend to get distracted.”

  “I have no idea what you mean.” I feign ignorance.

  “No?” Amos squints accusingly.

  “Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ with the shake of my head.

  He puckers his lips and joins me beneath the water. “Maybe I should remind you?”

  “I think that’d be wise.” I circle my hands around his waist and splay my palms against his muscled back.

  He crashes his mouth against mine, and I dig my nails into the skin of his back, pulling him closer.

  Amos cradles my jaw in his hands. “I will never tire of loving you, Alma. Never.”

  “Promise?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He kisses me with fiery abandon. “Thank you for this weekend. Thank you for loving me enough to
let go.”

  Dueling emotions get lodged in my throat, and I can only nod in response. This happiness is something I never thought I’d feel again, and here I am in this utopia with Amos. I’m overwhelmed with love and using all the leftover strength I can muster to keep the guilt buried. It has no place here, not anymore.

  I said goodbye.

  This is the new start to the rest of my life.

  He slides his hands under my thighs and lifts me off the ground. I wrap my legs around him as he pushes me back against the wooden wall of the shower. Dropping one of his hands, he guides himself into me.

  I hold on tight as Amos assaults me with pleasure. Tears fall down my cheeks, dissolving in the steamy spray. This is everything I needed and never knew I wanted. I am loved and safe. An awareness of something greater permeates every pore as I realize I’m no longer alone.

  I’ll never be alone again.

  The vessel within my chest twists with overwhelming acceptance and gratitude. I’m loved, and Amos will make me happy for the rest of my life if I let him.

  His mouth finds mine once more as he thrusts into me below. He kisses me thoroughly and completely, not leaving any room for doubt. A torrent of emotions is crashing down on me, but the one that speaks the loudest is love.

  Simply love.

  24

  Amos

  The three-hour drive back to Ann Arbor from the weekend at our Lake Michigan oasis is a quiet one. We’re both lost in our own minds. At least, I know I am.

  This weekend was incredible. It was Alma and me being a couple with no other distractions. It was neutral ground without past memories for Alma to compare to. I knew when I asked her to go away last week that it would be what we needed, and it was.

  I know that Alma and I work as a couple. I know we’re meant to be together. It’s just the ghosts of daily life, and the routines and familiar locations of the past that keep her guilt at the surface. I feel for her. I don’t know what it’s like to move on when I’m still in love with someone else. I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone in the way in which she did. It carries a weight that I’ll never bear, and I’d take it from her if I could.

  But this weekend was a breakthrough. It was tangible—the difference in mindset. A decision has been made, and I couldn’t be happier.

  I’m not naïve enough to think that we’re going to go back home and be met with the perfection of this weekend. There will be challenges. I’m hoping that the past two days we spent together will be a reminder of what we’re fighting for—a relationship they write about, an epic love story.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask. “I could stop and get something before we get back?” Our fingers cling to each other between the seats.

  She squeezes my hand. “No, I’m good. I just want to get home.”

  “To see Love?” The question is rhetorical.

  “Yeah—gosh, I miss her. The closer we get to home, the antsier I get to see her.”

  “Well, I’m proud of you for going away and spending a weekend apart. I know she had an amazing time with Lee-Anne.”

  “I’m sure she did.” The side of her lip tilts up.

  “Thank you again for this weekend. It was…” I hesitate, needing the right word to describe how much it meant to me. “…perfect.” It’s generic, but it’s true. Everything about the past two days was utter perfection. I’ve never been happier.

  “Stop thanking me.” Alma shakes her head. “You were right. It was needed, and it was perfect. I loved every minute of it.”

  I veer off the highway onto the ramp that leads to Alma’s neighborhood.

  “We should do it once a month. Get away, just me and you,” I suggest.

  “Whoa, boy.” Alma chuckles. “Let’s slow down a bit there.”

  “Every other month?” I raise a brow.

  “We can work up to once a quarter,” Alma acquiesces.

  I nod, pleased. “I can agree to four times a year. Remember, you can take time off during the week to hang out with Love. I mean, that was a great plan.”

  “It made leaving a little easier.”

  I pull into Alma’s drive, and before I have the car fully in park, she’s out and running into the house. My chest fills with pride. I always knew she’d be a fantastic mother, despite not having a good example of what one was growing up, and it’s heartwarming to see it in action.

  After retrieving the bags from the trunk of the car, I make my way inside. Love and Alma, arms wrapped around each other, sit on the sofa. Love is telling Alma all about her worm dinner. I grin. I can only imagine what healthy concoction Lee-Anne came up with.

  “Did you two have a good time?” Lee-Anne asks with a knowing stare.

  “We did. It was great.”

  I set down the bags, and she hands me a cup of tea. “Try this. It’s hibiscus tea. Did you know that hibiscus is very good for you? It gets all the free radicals out of your body and prevents cell damage. It’s excellent for your immune system.”

  I thank her and take a sip of the tea. I’m actually not sure what she means about free radicals, but I don’t dare ask.

  “So?” she questions.

  I bob my head in affirmation. “It’s great. Thanks again.”

  “Just so you know, I’ve been telling Almalee that you two are a good match. I’ve known it for years. It’s been obvious since you two were little.”

  “Well, thank you,” I reply, not quite certain how to respond.

  She waves her hand toward the teacup and nods. “Okay. You drink the tea, and I’m going to go and let you all have the rest of the day together as a family.”

  “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. I can make one of your favorites?” I offer.

  She shakes her head. “No way, José. I’m going to go home. You three need your space.” She taps me on the arm.

  Lee-Anne excuses herself to say goodbye to the girls, and I take Alma’s bag up to her room. Flicking on the light switch, I scan the space. It’s exactly as it was four years ago when I picked out a dress for her to wear for the funeral. Pictures of Alma and Leo are everywhere—on the dresser, the walls, and the nightstand beside the beds. I doubt anything has been moved since his death, a sad shrine to her lost marriage. I turn the light off and shut the door.

  “Maybe we should have Amos pick? He can be the tiebreaker.” I hear Alma say to Love as I descend the steps.

  “Pick what?” I ask.

  At the sound of my voice, Love jumps up from the sofa and runs toward me, tackling me in a hug.

  “Hey, Love Dove. I missed you.” I kiss the top of her head. “Do you and your mom need help with something?”

  “Yes! Movie night,” Love answers.

  Alma pulls up the Disney Plus channel on the TV. “We’re having a debate. I think we should try out a new movie, maybe one we haven’t seen before, like Toy Story or Cars, but Love wants to watch the Beauty and the Beast again.”

  “I love Belle!” Love argues. “I don’t like cars.”

  “How do you know? You’ve never seen it,” Alma says.

  “I want Belle,” Love protests.

  “See?” Alma looks up at me. “We need a tiebreaker.”

  “I don’t know if I feel comfortable being the tiebreaker.” I look around and spot a box of crayons spilled onto the table. “How about we leave it up to fate?”

  Walking over to the table, I snatch up the red and yellow crayon and hold them out. “Red is for Cars and yellow is for?” I look toward Love, eyebrows raised.

  “Belle!” she answers.

  “That’s right. Belle.” I smile down at her, and she jumps up and down. “I’m going to put a color in each hand behind my back, and you can choose. Whatever color is chosen is the winner. Deal?”

  Both of my girls nod, wearing identical goofy expressions. Alma likes to think that Love takes after Leo in everything, and in many things, she does. But she has so much of her momma in her, too.

  Holding the crayons behind my back, I mix them up.
“Okay, Lovie. Pick a hand.” I hold my closed hands behind my back.

  Love eyes my arms carefully as if she can see through me to the color. “This one.” She points at my right arm.

  I pull my right arm out from behind my back and hold it out. Turning my hand over, I slowly open my fingers, revealing the yellow crayon. Love jumps up and down, shrieking with happiness.

  “Beauty and the Beast it is!” I call out, and Alma shakes her head with a laugh.

  Love runs around the living room. The yellow princess sundress she’s wearing flies out behind her as she giggles in victory.

  “What would you ladies like for dinner?” I ask.

  “Tacos!” they shout in unison.

  I chuckle. “Well, at least we agree on that.”

  Alma follows me into the kitchen as I start removing ingredients from the refrigerator.

  She stands in front of me and drapes her arms over my shoulders. “Did you move the yellow crayon to the hand she picked? Was that a setup?”

  I lean down and give her a chaste kiss. “I’ll never tell.”

  “I knew it.” She shakes her head.

  “What?” I shrug, feigning innocence. “She picked the yellow crayon.”

  Alma drops her hands and leans against the granite countertop. “She’d like other movies if she watched them.”

  “But listen.” I nod toward the living room where Love is dancing and singing her rendition to the song from the movie, “Be our Guest.”

  “Yeah, I know. She’s obsessed. And, you’re a softie.” Alma opens the bag of tortilla chips. Retrieving a corn chip, she dips it into the salsa and plops it into her mouth. “Just so you know, I’m glad you chose her even if I have to watch that movie for the millionth time. She’s lucky to have you.”

  I pour the can of black beans into a small pot and sprinkle in some seasoning.

  “Will you stay with me tonight?” Alma asks.

  “Are you sure? Won’t you be sleeping with Love?” I wipe my hands on the towel and turn to face Alma, taking her hands in mine.

  “I’m sure. I’ll lie with her until she’s asleep, and then I’ll sneak out. It’s time.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.” I kiss her gently. “I’d love to stay over.”