by Peggy Webb
Oh, Lord, why couldn’t love be as simple as tending to rescued animals?
Maybe it was. Maybe all you had to do was forget about the rules and just fly by the seat of your pants. Let yourself go. Hold nothing back.
“How do you feel about making love in the woods?” Jake said.
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Any objections?”
“None whatsoever.” She unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it on the lowest branch of an oak tree. “In fact, if you hadn’t suggested it, I was going to suggest it myself.”
They left a trail of clothes across the compound to a small grove of trees. With the fresh green leaves as their canopy and a moss-covered embankment as their bed, they entered the realm of magic that kept them enchanted for the next few hours.
“A man could get used to this,” Jake said.
“So could a girl.”
In fact, Emily was thinking how wonderful it would be if all her days included Jake, if she could go to sleep at night wrapped in his arms and wake up in the morning with him at her side, wake up to soft sweet kisses and delicious, lazy explorations, to the joy and wonder that comes only from being with your soul mate.
“I’ve never experienced such driving urges. Maybe it’s the woods that encourage this primitive passion. Or maybe it’s the woman.”
“I like the second explanation best.”
“I thought you would.”
He kissed her softly on the lips, and Emily loved how it felt, as if it were an intimate ritual they performed every day and as frequently as possible. She loved that her lips were swollen from so much kissing, and still she wanted more. Jake was the kind of man she could never get enough of. The kind she’d thought she’d never find.
“How did I get so lucky?” she said.
“We both got lucky.”
Jake folded his arms behind his head and stretched out full length on their bed of moss.
“Did you ever think of living anywhere else, Emily?”
“No. For one thing, my work dictates that I live in the midst of nature. For another, I’ve always felt that big cities have a way of stealing a person’s soul.”
“So have I. That’s one of the reasons I spend as much time as I can climbing mountains.”
“When will you go again?”
He not only climbed mountains solo, but also acted as a guide to groups of people who would never tackle the peaks alone. He tried to screen his clients so that he took only those who were skilled and capable climbers, but many guides took clients who should never get closer than their television screen to the great mountain ranges. In fact, some of them endangered others by their dogged determination to boast of feats beyond their capabilities. There was always the possibility that one of them would slip past Jake’s screening system.
Emily had learned those truths from a lifetime of living with a high-altitude filmmaker. In fact, before she’d left the reunion, her father had pulled her aside and told her the specifics of Jake’s profession.
“Just so you go into this relationship with your eyes wide open, Em,” he’d said. “It will take a special kind of patience to love a climbing man like Jake.”
“Don’t you think I already know that, Dad? After all, I’ve had Mom for an example.”
“Yes, you have. There’s no better role model in the world than your mother.” Michael kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Go with my blessing. I couldn’t be happier if I’d chosen Jake for you myself.”
“Didn’t you?” she’d teased, and her father had given her that twinkly-eyed look he always got when he was keeping secrets and mighty pleased with himself, to boot.
“Never question fate, Em.”
That was easy to do when you were lolling in the woods, cozy and sated, your lover beside you safe and sound. But would it be so easy when Jake was on the other side of the world and she was left behind with nothing but memories and the anxious hope that he would return?
“You didn’t answer my question, Jake.”
“Don’t talk about when I’ll leave, Emily. Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”
“You’re right. Of all people, I should know that.”
She was reaching for her clothes when Jake put his hand on her arm.
“Don’t. Not yet.”
That was all it took. One look. One touch. And their secret woodland bower rang once more with the sounds of their passion.
Chapter Nine
May 16, 2001
I’m in heaven. That’s all. This morning when I woke up Michael was standing beside the bed with an armful of roses. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, and then he proceeded to strip the sheets back and sprinkle rose petals all over me. They were still fresh with dew, and I giggled like a schoolgirl when he licked the moisture away.
We didn’t get out of bed till noon. I told Michael I felt positively decadent, and he said he planned to see that I felt that way from now on. Oh, it’s wonderful, this retirement of his.
Such plans we have. We’re going to travel, anywhere except the mountains. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime, though I don’t put it in quite those words to my husband. Every time we discuss travel plans, I haul out brochures of places that have beaches and coconut trees.
He’s on to me, of course. I never could fool Michael. But he pretends to share my enthusiasm for the world’s tropical paradises. Yesterday he brought home a ukulele, plastic of all things, and then he serenaded me. He has a way with blues, but Elvis, he’s not. He murdered “Blue Hawaii,” and we both ended up rolling around on the carpet, laughing.
Of course, dear diary, you know where that led. Mmm! Delicious.
It makes me very happy to know that Emily has finally found the same thing. She called yesterday while Jake was at the grocery store to tell me how wonderful things are between them. “Everything’s perfect, Mom. I have to pinch myself every morning to make sure this is not a dream.”
I assured her it wasn’t. I assured her it was the way true love always feels. That led to a lengthy discussion about when to say “I love you” and who says it first and whether it matters who is the first to confess.
It amazes me that people can get so caught up in rules they forget to just live. How I ever got past Mother’s rules is beyond me, but I had to share with Emily how the great confession came about between her father and me. Of course, if it weren’t for my diary, I wouldn’t remember.
It seems Michael and I were born loving each other. It seems to me that we said it the minute we first saw each other, and that we said it at the same time.
However, my diary tells a different story.
November 13, 1966
This has been a red-letter day in more ways than one: Michael came to my house in Mississippi for the first time today, and I told him I loved him. Right out of the blue. Just said the words as bold as you please, “Michael, I love you,” in spite of my mother’s warnings that men never marry forward women. That’s the word she used, “forward,” as if I were a car that needed changing gears.
Mother was in her element giving advice before he came. “Rule number one, Anne, never kiss a man on the first date.” Wouldn’t she die if she knew what we did on our first date? Not even a date, really. Just a mad rush to find someplace where we could know each other’s bodies as fully as we knew each other’s minds and spirits and souls.
Then she went on to rule number two about the chase being all important to a man. “And never call a man—always let him call you. But the most important thing is to never, ever let on that you love him, even if you do. Play hard to get, Anne. That’s the way to get a proposal out of him.”
When I told her I wasn’t sure I wanted a proposal, she nearly had a conniption fit. Marriage is the end-all, be-all for Mother. “What else would you want him for?” she said, as if I’d been conceived by immaculate conception.
“I’m going to be a concert pianist, Mother. I want him for companionship.” Among other things that I didn’t dare name. Lo
rd, Mother would have practically barred the door if she knew all that I had in mind for Michael.
Well, Michael won her over instantly, there’s no doubt about that. She practically swooned when she saw him. And charm. If he’d turned half that charm on me in the bus station, I’d have had my wicked way with him right there in the nearest broom closet.
Naturally the first thing Mother did was grill him about his relatives, who was his mama, who was his daddy, who were his ancestors all the way back to the Revolution. Mother’s a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and puts great value on a person’s lineage. Fortunately Michael’s family tree is impeccable. Or perhaps not. The way his eyes were twinkling when he talked about Colonel Jeb Westmoreland and General Slim Rankin, he might have been making the whole thing up.
I was falling more in love with him by the minute.
Now, mind you, today is only the second time I’ve seen him, because the day after we met, he went to Alaska to apprentice on a shoot, and I got down to the serious business of practicing for my senior recital.
I graduate in December, and already I’m being courted by a professional tour group that heads to Europe in February.
Anyway, I couldn’t wait to get Michael out of the living room and off to myself. The only way I could get by with carrying a quilt to the woods was by telling Mother we were going to have a picnic. And we did. Wine, cheese, fruit and bread. Home-baked. (I’m trying to impress him. I guess some of Mother’s advice is rubbing off on me, after all.)
We raced into the woods and fell on each other like two naughty children. (Fortunately for us, Mississippi is experiencing another one of those beautiful autumn days that feels like summer.) Then we sat facing each other naked on the quilt, our legs entangled, pine needles in our hair, and my love for him overflowed.
“I’m falling in love with you, Michael,” I said, and he held me so close I almost lost my breath.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Anne. I don’t ever want to hurt you.” That’s what he said, but what I heard was, “I love you, too.”
What does it matter who says the words first? The important thing is to recognize the magic. Recognize it and welcome it home.
Chapter Ten
“You look like your mother when you smile like that.”
Jake glanced up from the morning paper. He was sitting across the breakfast table from her, which gave Emily even more cause to smile. This felt like a routine they’d known and enjoyed for years, instead of only a week.
“Thank you.” It was a beautiful compliment that deserved a proper response, not one of those silly disclaimers. “I have a lot to smile about.” She tucked her mother’s letter and diary pages into the pocket of her robe. “Namely you.”
He leaned back, studying her over his coffee cup. “You make a man believe in domesticity.”
Coming from one of the least domesticated of his kind, that was an enormous admission. Emily was holding her breath, hoping for more, when Gwendolyn marched into the room and wrapped herself around Jake’s legs.
“Hello, girl.” He leaned down to scratch her back, and she cast Emily a look that could only be called arch.
“Don’t encourage her. She’s already incorrigible.”
“And still showing no signs of returning to her natural habitat.”
Jake was beginning to learn her business. Just yesterday he’d been present when she released the raccoons into the woods.
“I could keep her, but then, I could keep all the animals who come into my care.”
“Did you notice that black-and-white visitor we had last night?”
“No.”
Jake laughed. “How could you? You were curled against me sleeping like a rock.”
“It felt so good I could do it forever.”
There, she’d said it. Mentioned a future with him. It was just short of a confession of love. Emily put her hand on the letter in her pocket and said a silent thanks to her mother.
Jake’s only response was the small smile that played around his mouth. She would take that as a good sign.
“Maybe we should take Gwendolyn for a long walk today in the hopes of meeting our nighttime visitor.” That was all he said, and she had to warn herself to slow down. After all, they’d only been together a week. Both of them were young. They had a lifetime ahead.
“That’s not a bad idea,” she said. “I’ll get dressed.”
She was down to the bare essentials and headed to the shower when the phone rang. All she heard was Jake saying hello.
Funny how one phone call could change a life.
That was what Jake was thinking as he stood in Emily’s cabin in the woods listening to the sound of her shower. Yesterday he’d stripped off his clothes and joined her. They had cavorted like naughty children.
That was one of the things he enjoyed most about Emily, her childlike joy in simple pleasures. Being with her was like discovering the world all over again. Her enthusiasm was contagious. Every leaf, every blade of grass, every star was cause for celebration to her.
He would love to stand on a mountaintop with her and show her the world.
“Jake?” She peered around the doorjamb, wet hair wrapped in a towel, simple black cotton panties clinging to her damp skin. And she’d never been so appealing to him. So dear. So important.
God, she was important. Perhaps too important.
“Who was it?” she asked.
He didn’t want to tell. Didn’t want to have to tell her, for the news would change everything.
Everything except the way he felt about her.
He’d never even told her, and now it was almost too late.
“James Reeves. He wants me to do an IMAX film.”
“Oh?” Her smile was uncertain. “That’s good, I suppose.”
“Yes. It’s very good. He’s an excellent producer.”
“Where will it be filmed?”
“Everest.”
She took a deep breath. Now came the test. Would she be like all the other women he’d known? Would she dissolve into tears? Beg him to stay? Fret over the danger?
Worst of all, would she issue ultimatums?
“When will you leave?”
“Tomorrow.” No tears. At least not yet. He watched her closely for any signs of resistance. All he saw was an enchanting woman with a smile on her face, a woman who somehow held his whole world in her small hands. “I have to go back to Atlanta and get my gear ready.”
She faced him bravely, a small woman determined to be strong in the face of disappointment and fear. And it was there. He could see it in her eyes.
Jake closed the space between them, pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. He couldn’t leave without telling her how he felt. He couldn’t walk away without some assurance that he would be welcomed back. He couldn’t climb to the top unless he knew she would be waiting for him at the bottom.
Suddenly that was how important she was to him. She was life and breath to him. Heart and soul.
“I’ll be back, Emily.”
“Yes, I know.” Her voice was small, muffled against his chest.
“You’re everything to me.” His arms trembled with the effort to hold her as close as he could without crushing her. “I never thought I’d say that to a woman.”
“I never thought I’d hear it. Never even wanted to until I met you.” She wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed. “I love you so. Please be careful.”
“I will, Emily. I promise.”
He kissed her then and for a long time afterward. She unwrapped her hair, took his hand and led him into the bedroom. Their bedroom. Signs of the two of them together were everywhere, his pants draped over hers on the back of a chair, their shoes mixed together, his comb beside her hairbrush, and through the open door their toothbrushes side by side, their wet towels tangled, his shaving cream sharing space with her bath salts.
Packing up and leaving was going to be like ripping out a part of his heart. He
wanted to stay here with her. Always.
And yet…they’d known each other only a week, and he was leaving for the other side of the world. Best not to make plans. Not yet. Best to merely hold on to the moment, hold on to Emily and promise to return.
He picked her up and placed her in the center of the bed, then stood memorizing the way she looked, long, slender legs stretched out, damp hair spread across the pillow, toes painted bright red. Not her fingernails. Just her toes. Which never ceased to surprise him.
But most of all, he wanted to remember her smile. It was more than warm and inviting. It was glorious, a thing of transforming radiance. Open and innocent, and yet so intimate his heart beat faster just looking at it.
He wanted to say something to her, something she would remember in the lonely days ahead, something he would remember and be proud of. And yet she left him speechless. All he could do was lie down beside her and hold her close until hugging was not enough.
Each time they came together Emily was amazed. How was it possible for something that had started out as perfect to get better and better? She thought it had to do with the expanding of the heart. She actually felt as if her heart had grown bigger in the past week, and perhaps that was the answer. Their loving didn’t get better, it merely took up more space in her body.
With her arms and her heart wide open, Emily said her long, sweet goodbye to Jake so that the next morning when he was actually standing on her doorstep with his suitcase in his hand, she didn’t have a frantic urge to grab his lapels and pull him back inside. She didn’t have the panic-stricken feeling of things left unsaid, deeds left undone.
“I guess this is it, Emily.”
“Yes, this is goodbye. For now.”
He cupped her face and tipped it up for a long kiss.
“I’ll be back. Soon. As soon as I can.”
“I know. I’ll be waiting, Jake.”
“Good. That’s all I need to know.”
He hadn’t said words she’d wanted to hear, and yet he’d shown tenderness and loving care in a dozen ways. It was enough. For now, it was enough.
