They swam in the lighted pool, self-consciously staying at arm's length. John swam lap after lap, while Cassie merely paddled. In the back of their minds was the question: What happens when it's time to go to bed?
"I think I've had enough," John said finally, hoisting himself to the edge of the pool. Water glistened on his face, and it ran down his chest, diverted into rivulets by the curly hair there. Cassie averted her eyes from the revealing swimsuit he wore; she dared not look. Reflected light from the pool glimmered in his eyes, giving them depths of turquoise, azure, and cobalt blue. His eyes stirred a hungering passion in her, and she found that she could no longer bear the caress of the water on her skin.
Cassie climbed the pool ladder and tossed him a towel from a nearby chair. She wiped the water from her face, blotted her hair and wrapped her own towel around her waist. Her casual movements belied the heat rising within her.
Silently, each of them occupied with their own thoughts, they went in through the French doors. Cassie closed and locked the doors behind them.
He thought, We've slept together so many times. Will we sleep together tonight? Is this reconciliation or merely her way of saying good-bye?
She thought, I want his arms around me. I want the hot pressure of his thighs against mine, his breath heavy in my ear, his lips caressing my lips and my breasts, everywhere.
He followed her through the swaying shadows of the unfamiliar house until they reached the huge foyer where the magnificent spiral staircase led to the upper floor. One dim light burned, a night-light. Cassie reached for the wall switch to flick it off, and then, without warning, her left leg collapsed beneath her.
John saw her tremble and instinctively reached for her before her leg actually gave way, and then he was sweeping her into his arms as he would a child.
"My leg," she said.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little. It just gives way like that sometimes." She tried to hide her pain. "Maybe it was the running today, or the swimming. It's not a very reliable leg."
And then he was carrying her up the wide staircase, and she was looking dazedly down, down, through the stairwell, his heartbeat strong against her cheek, her wet hair splayed against his chest.
The upper story offered a profusion of doors. "Which one?" he asked.
She pointed to the master bedroom. And then he was kicking back the bedspread with one foot and depositing her with infinite care on the bed.
Exploratory fingers touched the scar below her left knee. Her calf muscle was tense and hard. John massaged it slowly, carefully, taking his time.
"Better?"
She nodded. When he stopped massaging, she struggled to sit.
"You'd better rest." His eyes were intent upon her, and there was no hiding the desire in their depths. He seemed mesmerized by her face, his gaze taking in every detail. Slowly, slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, and she was waiting. Only his mouth touched her, but all of her yearned toward him. Yet he only kissed her, deepening it by degrees, making her hunger for him.
And then his fingertips were on her cheeks, drifting to her chin, feathering across her throat, delicately outlining her ear, winding in her wet hair.
"Cassie," he said unsteadily into the hollow of her throat. "I've missed you so much. I was afraid I'd never see you again."
"I didn't intend for you to," she replied, wondering how in the world she could have left Malibu without giving John a chance to explain.
She moved over on the bed to make room, and he lay down beside her, cradling her in his arms. She stroked his hair, kissed his shoulder.
He pulled away from her slightly so that they were both lying on their sides, their heads sharing the same pillow as they looked into each other's eyes.
"Knowing about Kevin's heart attack helps. It's so hard to deal with what happened to them. Wondering why something so awful happened, something out of which nothing good could come."
A sudden stillness captured John's heart.
"But Cassie," he said tenderly, gazing deep into her eyes. "Something good did come of it. Something very good."
She was puzzled, as he had known she would be. "No," she breathed. "Nothing good."
"Darling Cassie, if it weren't for your generosity, I would not be able to see your lovely face. Not your beautiful eyes—" and he kissed them one by one—"or your charming nose—" and he kissed it too "—or your sweet, soft, lips—" and he touched his lips gently to hers.
"What do you mean?" she asked, confused. His eyes, their pupils dark with love, gazed steadily into hers.
"Because you gave me the precious gift of sight, my love. I'm the one who received Kevin's corneas. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart."
"You?" Startled, she stared at John. It was not possible. It couldn't be true! She dimly recalled signing the paper, one of many documents they'd shoved at her after the accident. She'd thought at the time that donating his corneas was what Kevin would have wanted. Afterward she forgot all about it.
"I was in a freeway accident. A truck demolished my car and my corneas. The scars were so deep and so widespread that I could only see things in a blur, as if through frosted glass. I was afraid I'd never see again, and it meant that I couldn't fly, I couldn't drive. I thought my life was over until the doctors advised a cornea transplant. I waited months for a donor, Cassie."
Her thoughts spun, dizzying her with their force. She was speechless.
"When it was over, I was like a new person and filled with optimism for the first time since my accident. I'd plunged to the depths of despair, thinking that I would be blind for the rest of my life. I wanted to die. Afterward, I had to find Mrs. K. J. Muldoon and thank her, no matter what the cost. It became a matter of honor to thank you in person. But you wouldn't see me, and I knew that if it took moving heaven and earth to find you, that's what I would do."
She'd been wrong about him all along. John Bridges had fought his way out of the deep, dark caverns of the spirit just as she had. He knew where she'd been, understood as no one else could understand how hard it had been to pull herself out of the depths to which her soul had fallen.
Mutely she lifted a hesitant fingertip and trailed it along the scar bisecting John's eyebrow.
"The scar?"
"From my accident."
"When you found me, you didn't tell me who you were."
"How could I? You were in pieces, afraid of me, afraid of the world, afraid to fly. You were paralyzed by fear, Cassie. And because your gift—yours and Kevin's—had given me back my life, I wanted to give you back yours. Can I help it if I fell in love with you in the process?"
She didn't know tears were streaming down her face until John gently wiped them away with the edge of the sheet.
"Why are you crying? It's a story with a happy ending."
"Because I was the one who was blind," she managed to say.
"It's all over now," he comforted, stroking her damp hair. "We've both been through hell, and the worst part is that we've each been through it separately. We don't have to be alone anymore, Cassie. We can be together, sharing the good things and the bad. Can we put the past behind us and go on from here?"
She swallowed. "I love you," she said. "With all my heart. But how can we fit our lives together? I want to go back to Flat Top Mountain. You have a business to run. The practicalities make it impossible."
John enjoyed nothing more than a challenge. He was the kind who perceived a problem, defined the solution, and hung on until the solution was reached. He wasn't through fighting for her, not by a long shot.
"Sweet Cassandra," he said, loving her with all his heart. "We will find a way."
And then slowly and deliberately, he took her for his own, knowing that this time he would never let her go.
Chapter 16
Flat Top Mountain
September, 2013
John Kevin Bridges lay in the woven willow basket that once served his mother and his grandmother as a bassinet, and he yawned.
Then he laughed.
"Cassie, your son just laughed out loud for the first time," said John, lifting little Kevin out of the nest of blankets he'd managed to kick into a heap.
"It's gas," said Cassie, who was gathering the last of the marigolds for drying. She dropped the flowers into a burlap bag and hurried to where John sat in the shade of the maple tree holding Kevin in his lap.
Kevin chortled again, subsided with a great drooling grin, and energetically bicycled his legs.
"You see? He's laughing for you."
"So he is," said Cassie, entranced with her small son. She reached for him, but the baby wrinkled his nose and let out a wail.
"It's the scent of marigolds on your hands," said John, jiggling Kevin to make him stop howling. "I don't think he likes it."
Cassie sniffed her fingers. "You're right. Marigolds aren't the most fragrant flower in the world, are they? Shh, Kevin, it's all right. I'll leave you to your daddy." She backed away. "I'll be finished in a few minutes. Then I'll feed the baby." She smiled reassuringly at Kevin.
"There's the mailman," said John, flipping Kevin expertly over his shoulder. "Let's go for a stroll, son, okay? The way you're growing, you'll be big enough for piggyback rides before long." John set off toward the road where Joe Clutter was stuffing an assortment of envelopes into the box.
"Hi, Joe," greeted John. "Anything special today?"
"Nope, just the usual. Say, John, you and Cassie will be leaving soon, won't you?"
"We fly back to California next week. We'll be forwarding our mail."
"Sure thing," said Joe. He waved as he drove away.
John started toward the house where Cassie was waiting on the front porch.
"Come on, Kevin," crooned Cassie, holding out her arms. John caught the fragrance of Cassie's homemade soap on her hands. The rose scent brought back fond memories.
Cassie settled onto Gran's rocking chair and unbuttoned her blouse. Their son took Cassie's nipple eagerly, making contented noises deep in his throat. Cassie smoothed his abundant dark hair and gazed at his dear face. He looked so much like John.
"Here's an invitation from Sharon," said John, tossing aside the envelope. He scanned the card quickly. "She says her new apartment is perfect, and she wants us to come to her open house the week after we get back. She included a sticky note saying that her latest release is number twenty-one on the charts and climbing."
"Mmm," said Cassie. "How wonderful for her."
"I think Sharon's more surprised than anybody that her singing career took off after she sang 'Where the Heart Is' at the AAFA Awards Spectacular," John said. "It was brilliant of you to suggest it, Cassie."
"Merely common sense. Sharon was the only person who could pull it off." The national exposure had made Rose o' Sharon an instant sensation, and Cassie's joy at her friend's success had eclipsed her own delight at winning Best Theme Song By A Female Vocalist as well as the Songwriter Of The Year award.
"Sharon volunteers to baby-sit," continued John. His eyes resting on Cassie went soft. He could never watch Cassie nursing Kevin without feeling moved by the beauty of mother and son together, and with it the perfect harmony of their lives as husband and wife. "I'd like to take Sharon up on her offer," he said. "I want us to have some alone time."
"We will," Cassie assured him, reaching toward him with her free hand.
They sat hand in hand in the deepening dusk until their son fell asleep. John lifted Kevin from his wife's arms and carried him to the spare bedroom, which now served as a nursery.
Cassie was stepping inside from the porch when John emerged from Kevin's room.
"Hush," he said, holding a cautionary finger to his lips. "He's sound asleep." John walked quietly across the wooden plank floor, no mean feat in that old house where the hand-hewn boards creaked so readily, and drew Cassie into his arms. Their kiss bespoke more than passion and headlong pursuit. It was a sign of commitment, reflecting their deep and continuing love for each other.
Hand in hand, they walked to the brass bed. Slowly, knowing the way now, they undressed each other. There was no fumbling, no insecurity. If two could truly be one, then Cassie and John were. When he slid over her, she pressed against him, absorbing him into every pore, breathing him into every cell of her body, letting herself soar, letting herself fly, up and up and up in space until she saw the sun, and the sun was hot and it burst inside her in waves, gilding her world again. In lovemaking, Cassie was finally able to let her cares spin away. John never failed to lift her to the special place that had eluded her in the past.
As they lay together afterward, John spoke.
"Will you want to leave next week as we planned?"
"Mmm-hmm," she replied. "The garden will be harvested by then, and Bonnie Ott is looking forward to taking over the dispensing of remedies." Bonnie had proved an apt pupil, as talented with herbs as her sister was with the dulcimer. She was full of plans for creating her own herb label to sell in local stores, and Cassie had promised to finance the business. They'd start small, but as Bonnie said, they didn't have to stay that way. Eventually Bonnie wanted to market products on the internet, which Cassie considered a worthy goal. Bonnie was excited that she'd be able to pay her college expenses out of the proceeds, and her goal was to get her M.B.A.
Tigger jumped on the bed, meowing to be let out.
"And how about you, old boy? Ready to return to Malibu?" A year and a half ago, when they had first transplanted Tigger, they'd worried about his adjustment. Despite Cassie's misgivings, the cat had weathered the change from mountain to beach with aplomb.
For Cassie, the adjustment was more of a struggle. In the spirit of compromise, she'd offered to try living at Malibu for eight or nine months of every year. The beach, after all, was not the hard, bright city of Los Angeles. She found that the changeable sea satisfied her yearning for nature and nurtured the stillness of her spirit. Best of all, she and John made friends both inside and outside the entertainment community.
Cassie, her imagination fueled by the ocean and her spirit renewed by her marriage, had entered a creative period where she could scarcely write her songs fast enough. Kajurian was delighted, and Cassie quietly blossomed in this new phase of her career.
In line with Cassie's wish for it to remain uncomplicated, their life was quiet and centered on their home. Because he employed capable managers, John found it easy to spend summers on Flat Top Mountain. They planned to continue the pattern of living at Malibu during the winter months and on the mountaintop in the summer.
"If, after a while, it's not working," John had said, "we'll try something different. The important thing is that we'll always be together."
Always. A beautiful word.
"What are you thinking of, Cassie?" He asked her this often, and she never hesitated to tell him.
"About us," she said dreamily. "About how much we would have missed if we hadn't found each other."
"I found you,'" he said. "Remember? And almost lost you."
"Almost," she agreed. Her fingertips caressed the scar above his eye. "If you hadn't seen me through eyes of love—"
"Through eyes of love. How beautiful that is."
"You might have dumped me. I wouldn't have blamed you."
"Let you go? Not happening." John trailed his hand across the gentle rise of her hip and let it settle on her breast. She curved her hand over his and sighed with pleasure.
She thought she'd never find love again after losing Kevin and Rory, and now her life was happier than she'd believed possible. She closed her eyes and savored it. After the accident, many thoughtless people had tried to soothe her with insensitive comments. For instance, "God doesn't give us more than we can bear," which was nonsense. And "Don't worry, it'll turn out all right," which was impossible to believe when you'd just buried your husband and son. But in her journey back to wholeness, Cassie had formed the philosophy that things didn't necessarily turn out all right. They just turned out. It was up to us to make it all right
.
That's what she had done, though few people understood her method. Making it all right was what she and John had done for each other, and admirably well.
She turned toward him. "I love you, John Howard," she said, and as always, the words were important and real and true and meant only for him.
"I love you too," John said. "Dearest Cassandra, I'll never get enough of you. Never."
"Well," she said, snuggling close, "You could try."
"Good idea," he said, and he kissed her again.
The End
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SUNSHINE AND SHADOWS
The Keeping Secrets Series
Book Three
Excerpt from
Sunshine and Shadows
The Keeping Secrets Series
Book Three
by
Pamela Browning
Award-winning Author
When she sensed a lessening of intensity, she made a soft sound somewhere in her throat and realigned her head to make it more comfortable for him, and his lips renewed their quest, his tongue seeking more, more, until she opened her mouth and clung to him in unabashed passion.
Through Eyes of Love Page 16
