Forever Spring

by Joan Hohl

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Paul’s rough voice was like a crooning caress to Karen. Swinging the car door shut, Karen trudged through the snow, unconcerned with the cold wet soaking her shoes. A pang speared through her chest at the sight of Paul moving toward her, his tall frame outlined by the blaze of light from the house. He looked so natural coming from her house, so perfectly right.

  “I’ve been tying up a few loose ends,” she replied, a carefree smile curving her lips.

  “What?” Paul started to return her smile, but before she could say another word he frowned and glanced around sharply. “Where’s Charles?” Draping a sweater-clad arm around her damp shoulders, he turned and hurried her into the welcoming warmth of the house.

  Karen didn’t answer until the solid thunk of the closing door shut out the keening wail of the wind. “Charles is on a plane headed for Boston.”

  Paul had placed his hands on her shoulders to help her remove her coat. At her response, his fingers flexed, digging into the material. “On a plane,” he repeated with soft incredulity. “But how? Why?” Slipping out of her coat, Karen whirled to face him. “How? Very simply. I drove him to the airport and waited until the plane took off.” Her head lifted with an unconscious regality. “Why? Because I was thoroughly fed up with his manipulative, disruptive influence. In short, I tossed him out.”

  The garment he was clutching forgotten, Paul stared at her in disbelief for a moment, his lips twitching against a smile. “But was that safe?” he asked somberly, winning the battle with his mouth.

  “I hope so.” Karen drew in a deep breath as she turned to the hall phone table. “And I intend to find out right now.”

  Gazing down at the jacket still clasped in his hands, Paul absently hung it in the closet. “You’re calling his doctor?” he asked as she punched in the Portland number.

  “Yes. I didn’t get the opportunity to talk to him

  earlier____” She broke off, then said, “Oh, yes, this is

  Karen Mitchell. I’d like to speak to Dr. Jennaue, please. Yes, it is important.” While she was waiting, Karen tapped her fingernails on the smooth tabletop and glanced at Paul. “I’ll tell you all about it after I’ve spoken to the doctor.”

  Paul inclined his head. “All right.”

  “There’s a problem, Ms. Mitchell?” Dr. Jennaue asked with direct briskness.

  “I’m not sure, Doctor.” Karen’s hand tightened re-flexively on the telephone receiver. “I, er, put Charles on a plane for Boston a while ago, and I wanted your professional opinion on whether that was a safe thing to do,” she said quickly, then immediately held her breath.

  “Safe? Why shouldn’t it be safe? I told Mr. Mitchell last month that he could resume normal activities—within reason, of course. Surely he told you?” Impatience could be heard in the doctor’s tone.

  Karen’s eyes narrowed on hearing confirmation of her suspicions. Charles had been lying to her for weeks—forever! Gathering her thoughts, she answered, “Ah, yes, but I wasn’t positive if flying came under the heading of reasonable activities. Thank you, Doctor, and I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “No bother at all,” the doctor said, then contradicted himself by hanging up without the courtesy of a farewell.

  As her finger depressed the disconnect button, Karen gazed at Paul. “Charles was lying. The doctor told him to resume normal activities during his visit last month.” As she relayed the information to Paul, she punched in another number, long-distance this time.

  “You’re calling the school?” Paul correctly guessed.

  “Yes.”

  It required a few moments, but finally Rand’s anxious voice traveled across miles of telephone wire.

  “Mom, is something wrong?”

  “No!” Karen said at once. “No, Rand,” she went on in a calm voice. “I just thought you should know that, with the doctor’s permission, I took your father to the airport to catch the late-afternoon plane to Boston.”

  There was dead silence for several seconds. During those agonizing moments, Karen fought against the urge to launch into defensive speech, explaining to her son that she couldn’t tolerate his father’s presence a minute longer. The inner battle was hard-fought, but she won.

  “You kicked him out, didn’t you?” Rand demanded.

  Karen thought about evasion and immediately rejected the thought; that was Charles’s method, not hers. “Yes, Rand, I kicked him out.” She held her breath and waited for condemnation.

  “About time, too.” Rand’s voice didn’t crack at all; his tone had the depth of growing maturity. “I was wonderin’ how long it would take before you got fed up with his bellyachin’.”

  Tears rushed to Karen’s eyes, and she blinked against the sting. A long, muscular arm circled her waist, and a warm male body pressed reassuringly against hers, giving her the strength to whisper her son’s name. “Oh, Rand.”

  “I—I love Dad, Mom, but that doesn’t mean 1 can’t see him for what he is, you know.”

  “I know.” Karen made no attempt to stem the flow of tears running down her face. Obviously misreading the situation, Paul tightened his arm protectively and pressed the strength of his body closer to hers. Literally surrounded by understanding and protection, Karen suddenly laughed. “I’m so proud of you, Rand. You’re going to be a fantastic man.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Like most young people uncomfortable with praise, Rand reverted to wisecracks. “Ain’t you the lucky one?”

  “Yes, darling, I really am,” Karen responded softly, seriously. Rand was quiet for a moment, and she heard him swallow. When he spoke again, his voice was husky.

  “Is Mr. Vanzant still there?”

  Karen’s feeling of well-being wavered, and she stiffened. Again she considered and rejected evasion. “Yes, he is.”

  “Good deal,” Rand said briskly. “I worry about you being all alone up there... and, ah... I like Mr. Vanzant, Mom. I kinda think he’s good for you. Will you tell him I said hello?”

  Karen didn’t attempt to conceal the relief she felt at receiving her son’s words of approval. “Yes, of course I will,” she choked out. “I’d better let you get back to whatever you were doing. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  “Yeah, Christmas! I can’t wait.” Rand laughed. Then he said softly, “And Mom? Don’t worry about Mark. I’ll explain everything to him.”

  Wondering if the day would ever come when her son ceased to amaze her, Karen cleared her throat. “Thank you, Rand. I love you very much.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Rand’s voice was husky again. “I love you back. Bye, Mom.”

  Karen’s voice trembled as she said goodbye, her hand trembled as she cradled the receiver, and her eyelashes trembled as she blinked against a fresh surge of tears.

  “Problems?” Paul murmured, tightening his arm around her waist even more.

  Snuggling closer to his warmth, Karen shook her head. “Just the opposite.” She sniffled and laughed. “My boy’s growing up, Paul. Not only does he understand his father and accept him for what he is, but Rand understands the situation between you and me.” “Indeed?” Paul moved his hips slightly, making her aware of the fullness of his arousal.

  “Yes!” Karen gasped, shivering in response. “He— Rand said he’s glad you are here with me.” Her breathing grew erratic as he slowly moved his hips. “Um, he said he likes you and thinks you’re good for me. Oh!” She gasped again as his free hand sought her breast.

  “Rand’s a bright, savvy kid and I like him, too.” Relaxing his arm, Paul turned her, drawing her body into intimate contact with his. “And I like Mark.” Lowering his head, he lightly touched his mouth to her slightly parted lips. “And I like you best of all,” he whispered, wrenching a moan from her by piercing her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

  “Oh, Paul.” Despite her wet, cold toes, Karen was suddenly burning up, on fire for him. Curling her arms around his waist, she arched her body into the heat of his. A sound of hun
ger murmured deep in her throat when he stroked his tongue along her lower lip. “Oh, Paul, I ache for you!” she admitted in a whispery cry, past the point of sensuous game-playing.

  “And you can obviously feel how much I need you,” he muttered, nipping gently at her lip. “So,” he murmured, laughter edging his tone, “what are we doing standing here in the hallway?”

  “Good question.” Stepping back, Karen smiled and slid her hand into his. “It’s been a long, eventful day.” Paul didn’t have to be coaxed. Spinning around, he strode to the stairs, tugging her with him. As they mounted the stairs, he slanted a look at her. His dark eyes glittered with promise. “The way I’m feeling now, I think I can guarantee that it will be an even longer, much more eventful night.”

  Weeks of separation followed by weeks of being together without the opportunity to actually be together had created a voracious mutual hunger approaching starvation. In a replay of their first time together, they left the bedroom door standing wide open in their haste to touch, taste, caress and tear the clothes from one another’s body. The bed was a haven eagerly sought.

  Paul’s mouth was hot and hungry on Karen’s as his body joined with hers in a joyous rush. It was wild and wonderful. It was electric and sweet. It was homecoming. Satisfaction was swiftly attained and just as swiftly forgotten in the renewing heat of desire.

  Paul’s stamina was startling, and Karen found the strength to match his. Paul was dominant, Karen submissive. In turn, Karen became the aggressor, Paul the supplicant. Their reward was exhausted repletion.

  While the snowstorm raged outside, whipping the roiling waves into a white-crested fury, rattling windows and blanketing the land in a coat of pristine white, Karen and Paul slept deeply, wrapped in the warmth of one another’s arms.

  Sprawled luxuriously across Paul’s silver-flecked, dark-haired chest, Karen woke to the lulling sound of a calm sea and the whitish light of a snow-covered world. Feeling tired but contented, she snuggled closer to Paul’s warmth and rubbed her cheek against the springy curls of his silky chest hair.

  “Good morning.” Paul’s gently expelled breath ruffled the hair on top of her head.

  Karen’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as she tilted her head to the side to gaze up at him. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  “Hmm.” Paul’s eyes gleamed as he dipped his lightly bristled chin in a nod. “I feel terrific. How about you?”

  Karen’s smile deepened. “1 feel wonderful.” She paused for effect. “And utterly exhausted.”

  Paul’s lips curved into a smile of supreme male satisfaction. “I did promise you an eventful night.” “You kept your promise.” She was quiet a moment as memory stirred. Then she laughed with delight. Paul’s smile widened. “What’s so amusing?”

  “I just remembered something Charles said.”

  A frown banished Paul’s smile. “What did he say?” he asked, his arms tightening around her possessively.

  Karen’s laughter bubbled. “He said you were too old for me.”

  Instead of joining in her laughter as she’d expected him to, Paul grew somber. Her laughter fading, Karen gazed up at him.

  “What is it?” she asked, beginning to frown.

  “Charles was right, Karen.” Paul sighed. “I am too old for you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Paul!” Rearing back, Karen attempted to free herself from his embrace. Her expression and her tone revealed sheer incredulity. “How can you say that after the night we just spent together!”

  Refusing to release her completely, Paul eased her from his chest to the mattress beside him. “I can say that because it’s true.” Leaning over her, he raised a hand to rake long fingers through her hair, tangling them in the disheveled mass. “Look at you,” he murmured, searing a dark-eyed gaze the length of her nude body. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” Karen’s throat was too tight to allow the passage of words. A sinking sensation invaded her stomach. With her mind’s eye she could see herself as she imagined Paul saw her. And what she saw was a woman who looked every one of her thirty-seven years. She loved good food, and the results were firmly packed around her hips. She had borne two children, and her body bore the marks. Her breasts, though still firm, no longer retained the high thrust of youth. Her hands revealed her willingness to work and showed none of the soft silkiness of idle pampering.

  Never before had Karen been dissatisfied with her appearance. She had never been beautiful. But she had always been attractive, and that had been enough until now. Now Karen longed to be beautiful... for Paul. Beginning to hurt deep inside, Karen shook her head. “No, what do you see when you look at me?”

  “I see a woman in the full bloom of life—lovely, vibrant, gloriously alive. And you deserve a man like yourself to build a future with.” Paul’s sigh and smile hurt her heart. “Karen, I am well into middle age. 1 haven’t all that much future to offer.”

  With his hand buried in her hair, it was difficult for Karen to move without causing a sharp tug of pain in her scalp. But she did, ignoring the tears in her eyes as she struggled to sit up. “Paul, that’s ridiculous!” she cried indignantly. “You literally wore me out last night!” she admitted, blushing.

  “Thank you for that.” Paul’s voice was husky with emotion. Raising his hand, he traced her features with his fingertips as if imprinting the feel of her on his skin. “But there was a reason for my prowess last night. After weeks of missing you, then being near you but denied the right to touch you, I was starving for you.”

  “No, no,” Karen protested, shaking her head vigorously. “That might explain last night, but what about that first time? You were every bit as... as ag- 3 gressive the first time we made love.”

  Jolting up, Paul grasped her by the shoulders. “Of course I was aggressive!” he said in a gritty voice. “I had not been with a woman in over six years!” The instant the words were out of his mouth, Paul bit down hard on his lip as if he wished he could bite back the confession. “Oh, damn!” he groaned, wincing at the sight of her baffled expression. His fingers flexed convulsively in the soft flesh of her shoulders. “Karen, listen to me. Until the day I met you, I honestly believed that I was impotent.”

  Impotent! Karen blinked. Paul? Karen laughed; she couldn’t help it. He had to be kidding! But he wasn’t, and she knew it. Her laughter held a note of hysteria. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, fighting against the natural succession of tears after the laughter. “But, Paul, I can’t believe...” Karen’s voice faded.

  Paul sighed and loosened his grip on her shoulders. “Believe it, Karen. I was celibate for over six years, not by choice but because I felt no stirrings of desire for any woman—until I met you.” Leaning toward her, he kissed her with a reverence that brought tears to her eyes. “And I’ve been thanking God for our meeting, and for you, ever since.”

  Sitting naked on the bed, tears trickling down her face, Karen felt weak with compassion for him and grateful for being the woman who had been there at his reawakening. Sniffing, she brushed impatiently at her wet cheeks. “I’d like you to know that, although it was by choice, I had been celibate for over five years before I met you.”

  His fingers tightened again on her tender skin, making a lie of his protest. “You shouldn’t have been! You’re too young to deny yourself the pleasure of love.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “And that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I am past the age of giving you the pleasure you deserve.”

  Suddenly impatient with him, Karen shook off his hands. “You are not old!” She shouted the denial, yet at that moment, with his somber expression revealing every scoring line of experience, Paul did indeed look his age.

  “But, my love,” he murmured in an aching tone, “I am too old for you. Do you realize that I have a son older than you are?”

  Her eyes widening with disbelief, Karen skimmed her gaze down his body, admiring the trim, well-toned look of him. Impossible, she decided. Even though he had told her he
’d never see fifty again, Paul simply could not be old enough to have fathered a child who was now forty or near enough to it to make little difference. “Paul, really...” she began, only to break off at the sound of his introspective murmur.

  “I was seventeen.”

  “What?”

  Paul shuddered and glanced away from her. “Nothing.” With startling suddenness, he sprang from the bed. “I’m hungry.”

  Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Paul, you simply can’t let it go at that! What happened when you were seventeen?”

  Paul had started for the bathroom; he didn’t stop. His only response was an impatient shrug that rippled over his muscular shoulders and down his attractively tapered back.

  “Paul!” Karen’s tone was laced with the same note of command she occasionally had to use on her children. And she derived the same result; Paul stopped in his tracks.

  “Over breakfast, Karen. Okay?”

  Karen resigned herself to the delay with a sighed “Yes, Paul.”

  The bowed windows in the dining alcove framed a Christmas-card scene of sparkling white snow blanketing the landscape and mantling bushes and tree branches. After her delighted cry on her first sight of it, Karen didn’t notice. She was too busy studying Paul.

  Pondering his intriguing murmur, she barely touched the food he’d helped her prepare. Sipping her coffee, Karen bided her time until he’d finished chewing the last bite of his breakfast. She pounced the instant he placed his napkin on the table.

  “You were seventeen?” she prompted softly.

  Paul’s smile contained genuine, if wry, amusement. “I should have added tenaciousness to your list of attributes.”

  Karen stared at him stoically.