by D. Brown
She gasped, a short, harsh intake of breath, and stiffened.
“Shhh,” Sam whispered and touched a finger to her lips. “Relax.”
Maggie eased back onto the bed and closed her eyes, with a long sigh of anxious anticipation.
Sam touched the ice cube to the side of her neck, just below the earlobe, and traced a slow line down her throat, pausing at the top of her chest, and then slowly, an excruciating slowness to Maggie, continuing to the valley between her breasts.
He followed the ice cube with kisses, licking the moisture trail away.
“Oh God,” Maggie uttered, a hoarse outcry of pleasure mixed with an almost exquisite, sweet pain. “Oh . . . my . . . God!”
Sam slowly circled each breast, painting moisture circles around each hardening nipple, and erasing them with subtle brushes of his tongue.
“Oh Sam,” the moan snagged at the top of Maggie’s throat.
Sam slipped the ice cube in his mouth and began to suckle. Then, holding the ice cube between his teeth, he kissed her at the top of her stomach, and traced a delicate line of kisses, down to her navel, and then beyond, below that, where Maggie’s need ached.
She sucked in a harsh gasp of air over pressed lips as Sam touched her there, kissing her, nibbling at her, brushing the ice cube’s wetness over her own.
“Sam,” she whimpered, “My God. Please.”
Sam looked up through the valley of Maggie’s breasts at her closed eyed grimace of pleasure.
“What is it?” he whispered.
She opened her eyes, barely hooded slits.
“Oh God Sam, please.”
Her hands grabbed at Sam’s hair and pulled him upward.
“Please, take me. I need you.”
They made love again, as if for the first time, and the last time as well.
They stepped off the edge of the earth and found each other as they touched forever.
Their souls touched and signaled their eminent ruin.
No longer were they two, but one.
No longer were they she and I, or he and I, but Us.
They held each other for a long time afterward, savoring the moment, as the candlelight dwindled, throwing a dull flickering glow about the room then extinguishing finally, its fuel spent, just as the two lovers it comforted in its light were spent as well.
The pale silver light outside Sam’s bedroom window shined through the slowly dancing curtains, the breeze cooling them, soothing the intense heat generated between them.
“I love you,” he whispered, a barely audible croak. “I’ll always love you.”
Maggie kissed his cheek, then laid her head on his chest, not wanting to leave, but knowing she had to, and soon.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the morning and we can walk the beach.”
She sighed wistfully.
“And watch the sunrise.”
“I just want to be with you,” Sam said. “I don’t care how, and I don’t care when. I just want to see you, and hold you in my arms one more time, always one more time.”
They dressed in the darkness and Sam walked her to the door, and took her in his arms to kiss her goodnight.
“Walk me home,” Maggie whispered, touching a finger to his lips.
The half-moon peeked from around the corner of earth’s shadow, smirking at them from its perch in the western night sky.
As if it knew.
The pale silver light threw a spectral, ethereal glow over the night.
Maggie and Sam walked slowly, holding hands, not wanting this night to end, but knowing their time together would last just a few more steps.
Maggie stopped and turned, looking up at him, and smiled.
“I love you on so many different levels,” she said. “I feel like you are already my best friend.”
“I can’t imagine what a best friend would be that’s not you,” Sam said and kissed her forehead.
“What happened here, Sam? This isn’t normal. This kind of thing doesn’t happen.”
“Yes it does, it does happen,” he said and smiled down at her.
“When?”
“They call this Happily Ever After.”
They kissed goodnight and made plans to meet on the beach before sunrise. They held hands for a long time, each reluctant to let go, not wanting to, hating that they had to leave.
Knowing they had tomorrow.
A heavy sadness touched their hearts as tonight passed.
“Dream of me,” Maggie said, and blew Sam a kiss as she crossed the lawn to her porch.
Sam stood there and watched until he heard the whine of the screen door opening, and the slow creak of Maggie easing it shut.
Not wanting to go, he turned and started back for his own porch, and now empty home, the only evidence that she was ever there, her lingering scent hanging in the musky air.
Maggie eased the door shut behind her and turned to tip-toe off to bed, her thoughts as always lately, revolving around Sam, remembering his touch, what he made her feel, the sensations that exploded inside her, soaring to heights she had never experienced before, and how she loved him so – oh, how she loved him so.
When . . .
“Maggie?”
Terror seized her heart and her cry of start snared on a throat’s briar, leaving only an empty hiss where his name should have been.
“Robert!”
38
The anguished look on her husband’s face, the glare of betrayal glistening in his tear filled eyes told her more than any words could say.
The expression gouged into his face cut to the core of Maggie's soul.
He saw them.
He knew.
“How could you?” Robert said in a small voice, shaking his head slowly from side to side then muttering a hoarse rasp of heartbreak and stunned shock. “Maggie, how could you?”
39
The Fifth Day – Monday, July 6
The phone rang and woke Sam from a deep sleep.
He slept hard.
He went down like Michael Spinks against Mike Tyson – which meant, hard.
He and Maggie, making love – My God, I’ve never experienced anything so intense – sleep was reluctant to surrender its hold and release him to the world of the awake.
He had dreamed about Maggie, about being with her, and touching her, and walking with her along the beach, just the two of them, holding hands.
He remembered the amazing night they shared, the incredible way it began, rushing into each other’s arms, holding on tight, never wanting to let go, and then the equally incredible way in which it ended, the two of them, desperate in their need, realizing finally their love for each other.
Pleasing Maggie the way he did, and bringing her to such heights of pleasure that she nearly wept.
He smiled through the fog of sleep, and let go, content tonight to be that wayward leaf, cast adrift on the stream of sleep.
A perfect night, nothing could ruin this.
Ever.
Nothing at all.
The ringing continued.
Sam opened his eyes with a groan, a dull throbbing pulsing behind his eyes in time with the ringing phone. He buried his face in his pillow and could still taste Maggie’s scent.
He cracked open one eye and through the darkness saw the bedside clock read 4:30 a.m. His stomach gave a small squeeze when he saw the number flash on his cell phone display screen belonging to Maggie.
Sam smiled, stretched one of those luxurious hairline-to-tailbone vertebrae cracking stretches and flipped open the phone.
“Hello beautiful.”
Frank Wiley’s face flashed through his mind, followed by Frank’s voice over the phone, “Hello beautiful.”
Maggie’s voice was tense, wrought with fear, and sharp with emotion.
“Well, it’s not good.”
He heard the cracking of a stifled sob through Maggie’s hushed whisper.
She’d been crying.
Hell, she was crying.
; Fear’s cold hand closed in a vise about his heart.
Sam jumped out of bed.
“What’s wrong? Is it one of the kids?”
What Maggie said next was a sledge-hammer to the heart.
“He knows, Sam. Robert knows.”
“Knows what?” but the collapsing walls inside and dread’s sinking cold stone told Sam he knew exactly what Robert knew.
“What happened? I thought Robert went home.”
“He came back,” she said, crying freely now. “Sam, Anna Beth called him this morning, and told him about us. She said he needed to get down here right away, and that I’d lost all control with you.”
Oh Christ.
“He saw us Sam. He saw us kissing outside. He knows. He knows everything.”
Maggie’s words trailed away in a whispered sob.
Damn!
There were so many things Sam wanted to ask, the first of which being what she intended to do now that Robert knew.
His heart caved upon itself as the reality of what they’d been doing struck home.
Robert’s back.
Her husband.
I’ll never see her again.
Sam forced the wild panic from his thoughts, concentrating on just her.
Helping her through this.
Maggie.
“Are you okay?”
“Sam, I’m terrified.”
He paced the floor, damn near frantic, phone to his ear, thinking furiously.
He then moved from the bedroom into the front room.
A trickle of a cold sweat traced a crooked line down his cheek.
Dammit.
Just, damn.
Sam wanted to do something, anything.
There’s nothing you can do.
You’re far too late for that.
Son of a bitch.
Shit, clear your head!
Think!
This can’t be happening, he thought, but deep in his heart he knew that they’d been careening toward this inevitability from the first moment he saw her looking at him through his back porch door.
Maggie needed him now and she needed a clear head.
Anna Beth called her father, she ratted out her mother.
No, don't blame Anna Beth.
She’s just looking out for her father, and her family.
This is my fault. I should have known better.
It’s too late to worry about regret now.
You were warned.
But it doesn’t matter.
What matters is Maggie.
“What did he see?”
“Everything, Sam,” crying openly now. “He saw us kissing. He saw us holding hands. He saw us say goodnight. He is furious.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s at the gas station. He says we’re going home tonight.”
Fuck.
She’s leaving.
Fear’s shard embedded in Sam’s side.
“Maggie, I’m so sorry.”
In the deepest recesses of his heart though, where all his secrets lived, the sinking realization set in.
It’s over.
That moment had arrived.
The moment when Maggie Scott turned and walked out of his life, and Sam would never see her again.
“It’s not your fault, Sam. It’s all mine. I let this happen.”
“No you didn’t. This is my fault. I did this,” like this was something bad.
Vile.
Nasty.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Maggie, I love you.” Urgency pressed Sam’s voice now, the panic sharp and real, understanding this was his last chance to state his case. “You don’t have to put up with this. Stand your ground. You have rights, Maggie.”
“I have a family.”
“That loves you.”
“I committed adultery.”
“You did nothing wrong, Maggie, but find someone who loves you like you deserve to be loved.”
“This is the man I married.”
The words cut like a knife.
“And I cheated on him.”
To the very core of his soul, the words cut.
“I didn‘t marry you.”
She took the best of him.
“I married him.”
And left the hole.
Sam punched at the empty air.
Fucking life is coming apart at the seams right now and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.
He crossed to the window and parted the curtains, looking at the beach house next door, at the windows glowing with amber light.
Maggie’s in there somewhere.
“What do you want, Maggie?”
“I want my family,” she said quietly, as if she were ashamed.
“Does that include Robert?”
There followed a long pause, and for a long moment, Sam thought he’d lost the connection.
Her voice sounded tiny, frail, and far away – far away, that is, from him.
“I don’t know.”
She’s slipping away.
I’m losing her.
Sam’s heart slowly broke.
“Maggie, I love you,” Desperation shredded his voice, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“I can’t do this, Sam. I’m not a strong woman.”
“Maggie, you are too a strong woman. You are raising a family. You have more strength in you than any woman I’ve ever known. You don’t need this kind of life. You deserve the very best, Maggie.
Sam swallowed back his own tears. He was fighting for his life. He knew this day would come, he just didn’t think it would come so soon.
His voiced cracked, “You deserve better.”
He also knew he fought a losing battle and it was just a matter of time before the words came.
Sam braced himself for the harsh shock about to hit him.
You lost.
You can’t hold up against twenty years.
You can’t measure up against the needs of three children. They come first, and with them came her husband.
Besides, you’ve only had a few days.
How can you build a lifetime off that?
Because I can.
Then the words hit him through the phone.
“I’m not married to you Sam. Robert is my husband.”
“Maggie, please don’t do this, please.”
And then it came.
“I can’t see you anymore, Sam.”
“No Maggie,” he cried into the phone, “Please, you can’t!”
“I can’t put my kids through a divorce, Sam. I won’t do that. There’s no way he’ll let me out of his sight now, not after what he saw.”
“I love you Maggie,” dread and fear joined the desperation in Sam’s voice.
“He’s my husband.”
“He thinks he’s your god damned lord and master. You’re a wife, not an indentured servant.”
“He wants us to work on our marriage,” Sam heard Maggie say, as if in a trance, hypnotized.
Brainwashed.
“He wants a second chance to be the man I married.”
A spike of anger stabbed behind his eyes.
Not without a fight.
I’m not going down without a fight.
“I’m a mother of three children, and this is wrong,” Maggie said. “Robert is my husband.”
“You are a woman who deserves to be loved, and I love you.”
Another long pause spanned the emptiness growing between them.
I hate this.
Then, “I love you too, Sam.”
That tiny, frail voice, almost helpless, she broke his heart, but the knots in his shoulders relaxed.
He allowed a smile – a heartbroken smile – but a smile all the same because Maggie loved him.
“That’s all that matters, Maggie. We’ll be all right.”
“No,” she said. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
Yes it is.
Love is always e
nough.
He wanted to scream into the phone.
Open your eyes and see Maggie!
Instead, feeling the final grains of sand slip through the hourglass of their time together, Sam concentrated on their last remaining minutes together, seconds maybe.
He didn’t want those precious seconds wasted by pleading a lost cause.
“Go to your window,” Sam said, “Now.”
Sam watched the house, frantically scanning window to window, his singular thought: I can’t lose her.
I can’t.
The front curtains parted and Sam caught Maggie’s silhouette set against the backdrop of the lighted window.
“I see you,” he said.
He quickly flipped on the tabletop lamp next to the window and pressed his face to the glass so she could see him.
“I see you too,” he heard her say and thought he caught a hint of a smile in her voice.
Sam smiled through the fragments of his breaking heart, “I love you, Maggie.”
“I love you too, Sam.”
Sam placed his right hand against the windowpane, index and pinky finger raised, and the thumb extended outward.
Their sign for “I love you.”
Maggie did the same; holding up her hand and signing ‘I love you’ back. They stayed this way for a long time, hands pressed against the window, not saying anything right now, as there were no more words either could say.
Not anymore.
This moment, seeing Maggie for the last time, was worth ten thousand pictures to Sam.
“I love you,” he said, “For always. Never forget that, okay?”
“I won’t.”
Twin sabers of light sliced through the shadows outside from beyond the front corner of the house.
Sam heard the pop and crackle of tires grinding over crushed shells. The steady purr of an idling car engine fell quiet and a car door opened and then slammed shut.
“He’s home!” Maggie hissed over the phone. “I have to go!”
He heard the line click and the call disconnected. When Sam looked back to the front window, Maggie was gone.
That quickly, they were done.
Not even a good-bye.
Sam waited, thinking she might return.
But he knew she wouldn’t.
Finally, he turned off the lamp and let his forehead rest against the cool glass.
