She squeezed my hand tightly.
“Are you going to sit here all night or should I turn the shower on?” She asked after absorbing my words.
I propelled the chair forward and turned the knobs.
Lindsey undressed. When she was done, she pulled my soaked clothing off. Then she sat down on my lap and handed me the soap.
“I don’t know if I can tell you how much you mean to me,” I said later when we were on the porch swing. The moon was out over the water. Except for the breakers crashing rhythmically against the shore, the night was silent. A small candle burned on the glass table in the corner of the screened-in porch. It gutted and sputtered as the breeze caressed it. “But I’m going to try to do just that for the rest of my life,” I promised.
I fell silent. She watched me. “What are you thinking?” She asked, touching my face with soft fingers.
I realized I was staring into the distance. “I’m doing something terribly wrong,” I admitted.
“What?” She asked curiously.
“I was wondering where Cassiopeia was. I grinned wickedly at her.
She gave me a dazzling smile that told me she remembered I had said the same thing when she wanted to be serious on this very porch almost six years earlier.
“The truth, Mr. Turner,” she demanded.
“I was thinking about the future.”
“Why is that so wrong?”
“Because I’m on my honeymoon with the most beautiful woman in the world,” I said.
“Tell me what you were thinking about that future,” she said, smiling at my reason.
“I was wondering what the future held for us.”
“Then that’s okay,” she said, “As long as it is always ‘us’ in that daydream.”
I looked at her. We were on the porch swing. Night was around us like a soft summer quilt. Stars twinkled overhead. The sound of the surf filled my ears. The fragrance of salt filled the air we breathed.
The scent of her shampoo hung in the air between us. I loved that smell more at that moment than ever before because I had washed her hair for the first time in my life. The suds had dripped from her hair onto my chest and lap.
“It will be,” I assured her fervently.
She kissed me.
I looked at her. My heart swelled like a balloon in my chest. “I can’t imagine loving anyone else,” I said to her.
“That’s what I was thinking about,” she replied, smiling. “In my future, you will.”
I leaned back in order to see her entire face. She was joking. The threat of Meckler’s disease was entirely gone. What reason could I possibly have for loving someone else?
She saw the confusion on my face and grinned. “I’m betting you will,” she said softly.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I felt her forehead.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking about Ashley and Robert.”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know them!” I protested. She was teasing me, but I could not figure it out.
“Give it about five years…I bet you’ll know them then.”
“Ashley and Robert?” The names meant nothing to me. I studied her face. Despite the helpful smile, she was encouraging me with I could not get her meaning.
“Or, Penny and Daniel,” she said, laying her head on my shoulder. “Or, Heidi and Kory…or Lacey…”
I understood. I stroked her hair. “Our children?”
She turned her face up for a kiss. I obliged.
“Only two?” I teased, after our lips parted with a soft smacking sound.
“How many do you want?” She was serious.
“Once I get started, I may not be able to stop,” I said, nuzzling her shoulder.
“Then let’s get started,” she said as she stood and walked into the cabin.
The end
I owe these people so much more than thanks.
Paula—You gave me the time and the space I needed to bring these characters to life. I love you.
Karen—the fact that this book has an ISBN 1-4196-6270-8 is on your head!
Penny, Heidi, Rob and Lacey—I do what I do for you—and now Bradley and Tabitha too.
Ken, Betty, Karen, Dave, Jim, Linda—Thank you for encouragement along the way.
Mom—your perfect diction and love of languages (especially English) allowed me to take a run at writing a long time ago.
Dad—you taught me the important stuff. Thanks.
Kelli, how awesome it is to get your reaction to chapter after chapter! You rock!
Then there are the folks who come in at the last moment to help. The handsome guy in the wheelchair is Adam Zachow and the beautiful woman is Kelli Roberts. Lori Z offered up the use of her wheelchair on the day of the photo shoot. [Thanks for all you do for us, Lori.]
A little insight: It took about a month to write this story and four months to edit it. The editing is by far the worst part of writing a novel. Sixty-two thousand words require the soft touch of the editor’s pen. Try reading those words a dozen times! After a while, you have no idea if the story is good or bad, interesting or dull. Honestly, after the tenth time through, you no longer care! You become cranky, irritable and downright annoying to live with. That is why authors say thanks to the people around them. People who put up with their ugliness from story conception to the moment they send the final product to the publisher. Then we become better people to be around…for a week or two…until the next story starts bouncing around in our heads.
Poor Paula—I owe her the most loving thanks imaginable. Sometimes I would rush into the bedroom, having just been with Lindsey and Jimmy through some horrible or exciting time of their imaginary life. I was liable to blurt out what terrible thing had just happened in my literary world. Paula would be sympathetic until she realized she was expending emotional energy on an imaginary event. Nothing had really happened to anyone “real.” For all that unnecessary trauma you endured, thanks!
Other Stories by RC Waggoner
Saving Crystal
Crystal’s Story
The Orchid Page 21
