“It’s here,” I whisper to Coral, and stop in front of the headstone.
“My forever love,” Coral whispers, reading part of the engraving out loud.
I swallow hard against the lump. “It’s what Gramps always called her,” I manage to say.
“That’s sweet Tristan,” she wrests her head against my shoulder, and gives my hand a squeeze.
They are buried together Granny & Gramps, in the same plot, as they always wanted. They also wrote their own words that they wanted on their headstones. I want to read it aloud, lay the wreath down, wish them a Merry Christmas, and say my goodbyes, but I cannot seem to find my voice.
“Coral will you...” I nod to the headstone.
“You want me to read it out loud baby?” she softly asks.
I nod my reply.
“Ok,” she says, her voice is sweet and angelic. Then she takes a deep breath, pulls her shoulders back, and begins. “Here lies Frederick Freeman – Devoted and loving husband to his forever love Rose Freeman. She lies here also, by her husband’s side. Together For Eternity. You will always be in my heart, your Son – Tristan.” Coral reaches up and silently wipes away her tears with her hand. “You want me to read the poem baby?” she croaks.
I nod my head again, and swallow several times, trying my best to keep it together.
My brave girl takes a deep breath and begins reading.
“And so our time has come my love, we have perished and are now above. United once again I see, so very much we were meant to be. In life I loved you heart and soul, so blessed to have been given that role. To our darling Tristan who we have left behind, we pray you find a love as divine. God bless you child, may you be safe. You bought us such joy throughout our days. Spread your wings and open your heart, she will find you one day, and will never part.” Coral looks up at me, tears bouncing down her cheeks. “Tristan, that’s so beautiful,” she whispers.
I crumble, knowing their wish has come true, and cry like a fucking baby. I did find that girl, Coral is here, and they’ll never get to meet her. I squat down in front of their grave and really let go. I feel Coral crouch down next to me, and placing her arm around my back, she brings me the comfort that I need.
Silently she waits until I am done.
I look down at their grave, and place the wreath in the centre of the headstone. “Miss you,” I manage to say. I take a breath and attempt to compose myself. “Merry Christmas Gramps, Merry Christmas Granny. I love you.” Tears are streaming down my face. I don't understand why I’m crying so much.
“Merry Christmas Granny & Gramps,” Coral whispers, I glance at her and see she’s crying too. “I wish we could have met, but I’m sure we will one day.” She blows them a kiss, breaking my fucking heart with how sweet it was to do that.
I stand, Coral follows my action, and we wrap our arms tightly around one another. And I feel comforted and blessed to have such an amazing, sweet natured woman by my side. I don't think I’d have done this if I didn’t have Coral here with me. I gaze at the headstone for a few more minutes, saying my silent goodbyes, and when I’m done, I look down at Coral.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask.
“Whenever you are baby,” she softly answers.
“I’m ready,” I say.
“Ok,” she whispers, and we walk arm in arm back towards the car...
ARRIVING BACK IN BRIGHTON, I have to wake Coral to let her know we have reached the cemetery. The weather is still as bad, if not worse, the sky darkening, the temperature dropping rapidly. I want to get Coral back to the house, I’m worried she’ll get cold standing out in this weather.
“Ok, let’s do this,” she says, and exits the car.
I quickly follow, and grabbing the two wreaths, we head over to her mother’s grave. “I’m not going to do this every year Tristan, but felt like I should this year.” Her voice is almost a whisper, and she’s frowning.
“I understand,” I tell her, squeezing her hand.
She suddenly stops and looks up at me with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out Tristan, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok baby, like I said, I understand’ – “No it didn’t...’ she sighs, then looks up at me again, ‘what I meant to say was I don't want to come here, to my mother’s grave. That doesn’t mean I don't want to see your folks every year, I should have said that,” she adds, and I can tell she’s castigating herself.
“Hey,” I place my hands on her cheeks. “I know what you meant darling,” I tell her, and force a smile – but I can't shake the sadness that I’m feeling today.
She shakes her head at herself. “Good job you know me so well,” she replies.
I lean in and kiss her, then take her hand and we’re on our way again. Reaching her mother’s plot, Coral takes the wreath, kneels down and lays it against the tree.
“Hey Mom...hope you’re ok, wherever you are. I thought I would come and say hello, and bring you this. It’s Christmastime you see... so Merry Christmas.” She pauses for a moment, her eyes closed. “Love you Mom. Miss you.” Coral stands, and takes my hand again.
There are no tears, but I can tell she’s deep in thought, no doubt thinking about the past, and all the awful things her mother did, and all the things she didn’t do. Makes my blood boil, but I can’t show it, I don't want to upset her.
After a few moments, she turns and looks up at me. “Susannah’s?” she asks, and I hand her the wreath.
Coral places it down at her tree. “I hope you have found them, your baby and your husband, and that you are happy now, and at peace. God bless Susannah, and Merry Christmas,” she whispers.
I pull Coral into my arms again. “Thank you baby,” I whisper – Today had to be done. I wouldn’t have felt right if I hadn’t gone to their graves, like I did last year – and wished them Merry Christmas. Sounds silly, I know, saying those words to a grave, it’s not like they can say it back – but as a sign of respect, and for the love they gave me, it’s not only my duty, but my privilege too.
Coral squeezes me tightly. “Let’s go home baby.”
I couldn’t agree more. Taking her hand, we head back towards the car and the comfort of our home together...
Ten
BACK AT THE HOUSE, we silently make our way down the hallway, and reaching the sofa, Tristan flops down onto it, totally dejected, and stares out of the window. I’ve never seen him like this before, but I know I must be strong for him, so I turn on the Christmas Lights and the fire, say goodbye to Danny who’s staying at Joes, then I walk back over to Tristan and kneel down in front of him.
“What do you need baby?” I softly ask with my hands on his knees as I try to comfort him. This was such a hard day, but so much harder for him, than for me.
He looks down at me and softly shakes his head. And my heart breaks for him.
“Oh baby,” I whisper, and rest my head on his knee, trying to bring him solace.
“I’ll be alright in a while,” he croaks.
I look up at him again. “Did you want something to drink or eat?”
He frowns deeply as he considers this. “Yeah...a Brandy and a cigar,” he says.
“Coming right up,” I softly tell him.
He nods once at me, and I want to burst into tears, so I quickly turn away so he can't see my face, because the look on his face is just heartbreaking. I wish I had the power to turn back time, so we could have his folks here with us, just for a day.
“Thank you Coral,” he breathes as I get to my feet, I turn back and manage to smile, then silently walk down the hallway.
As I head into his office, I’m reminded of the surprise on his face when he opened this particular present for his birthday, which I was really glad I had purchased, because the trip to Spain for Tristan’s birthday, the one where I’d bought him flying lessons, had to be cancelled after what happened with Kane – we plan to take that trip sometime next year.
At the safe, I punch in the code, and open the door. Picking up
the heavy leather box, which is surrounded by layers of orange velvet, I carefully place it on Tristan’s desk, open it up, and take out one of the cigars, which are individually packaged in frosted tubes.
This particular brand is a limited edition, and I had no idea when I bought them if he would even like them, but the Black Dragon Tubo, is apparently one of Ghurka’s rarest and most unique, ultra premium cigars, and although I didn’t understand all the lingo they use, as in what type of leaf is used and what kind of fillers, I thought they must be good considering how much they cost – a whopping one hundred and fifteen thousand pounds for a box of twenty.
I did a lot of research to find these for Tristan, and I’m so glad I did as he said it was one of the best presents he has ever had, and that the cigars are the best he’s ever smoked, along with the ridiculously expensive Brandy that I bought to go with them, which apparently to the cigar connoisseur, is a must.
Placing the cigars back in the safe, I carefully pick up the large gun metal grey leather box that houses the very unique and ridiculously expensive bottle of Cognac inside it - Remy Martin’s Louis X111 Cognac, Black Pearl Anniversary Edition, is the 4th most expensive liquor in the world.
And when I came across it, I knew I just had to get it for Tristan, as he does love his Brandy, but my hopes were soon dashed when I found that only seven hundred and seventy five decanters were made, hence them being a limited edition, and I didn’t think I would be able to get one for him.
But after hours and hours of searching, I found this wine merchant in London, who managed to locate one for me, including the box for twenty nine thousand pounds, which is a small sum, when you compare to how much the cigars were, and the very reason both the cigars and the Cognac are housed in this safe.
Placing the Cognac on his desk, I close the safe, and punch in the code to lock it. Then I pick up the Cognac, the cigar, his cigar cutter, lighter and the ashtray from his desk and head back into the living room, only to find Tristan has disappeared.
Placing the items onto the coffee table, I go in search of him, but stop as I hear his footsteps coming down the stairs. Making an about turn, I walk into the kitchen and reach up onto my tip-toes to get a Brandy glass for him, and a wine glass for me, but I’m struggling – and once again I think about getting these god damn glasses moved. And he’s by my side, his hand on the small of my back, as he reaches up and collects two Brandy glasses.
“No Tristan,” I say, trying to stop him. “I bought that for you, to enjoy with your cigars.” I softly say.
“I want you to have one with me.” He says, and so I nod once, not wanting to cause him any further pain by arguing with him.
With the glasses in his left hand, he silently holds his right hand out to me, so I place my hand in his and we walk over to the sofa, noticing as we do, that’s Tristan’s changed from his suit into his sweats and t-shirt.
As we sit side by side on the sofa, I watch as Tristan opens the leather box housing the Cognac, and carefully lifts the metallic decanter from the box – which is normally a see through crystal, but the Black Pearl version of the original metal flask, is made by treating the crystal using a unique plating technique, giving it a beautiful reflective quality, with myriad subtle contrasts of light and dark dancing across its surface, which they achieved by layering successive thin coatings of titanium, carbon and gold one upon the other - It is said to be a true work of art. And I have to admit, it is beautiful, which I never thought I would ever say about a bottle of booze.
Tristan then pours the Cognac into the Brandy glasses, cut’s his cigar, and hands one of the glasses to me. I take a sip, and it’s like no other Cognac I have ever tasted. And I try to work it out in my head how much each sip must cost, but quickly decide against it, as I could be here all night.
Tristan then lights his cigar, taking several puffs as he does, and I inhale the smoke, loving the way it smells, which is so different to cigarettes, and lean back against the sofa, waiting for him.
Picking up his glass with the same hand he has his cigar in, he leans back against the sofa, places his ashtray next to him, props his feet up on the coffee table, and then he takes hold of my legs and places them over his, so I’m sideways to him, and places his arm protectively over them.
Taking a sip of his drink, he slowly swallows it, then he then takes another puff on his cigar, and I lean up a little and inhale again, which makes him smile.
“Did you want to try it?” He asks.
I shake my head, knowing I’ll probably cough and choke, which I don't want to do right now.
“I don't mind,” he says, a slight smile on his face.
“I’m good,” I softly say, and take another sip of the Cognac, and let it sit in my mouth, warming me, and then I swallow and it smoothly coats my throat. And as it works its way down, I notice there’s no burning effect at all – it’s so damn smooth – and I suddenly realise why it’s so expensive.
And I lean against Tristan, basking in his warmth, the only sound is the howling of the rain and the wind against the windows. And I wonder if I should put some music on then decide against it, as I think this is what Tristan needs, some quiet time to think.
“I’m sorry I’m being quiet Coral,” he says.
“Don't be,” I softly tell him, and gently squeeze his arm. “It’s been a tough day,” I whisper.
He nods his head, and takes another puff, and drink.
“Can I ask you something?” I whisper.
“You can ask me anything Coral,” he replies, still staring out of the window. And I debate on whether or not it’s a good time to ask, and decide against it.
“Coral?” he prompts.
“Another time,” I whisper.
He turns his head and looks down at me, his big brown eyes soft and full of love. “You’ve got a question burning inside you,” he says, reading me easily, ‘you have had since we left the cemetery, and I would really like you to say what it is,” he adds.
I sigh heavily, frowning deeply at the glass in my hand.
“It’s alright baby,” he tells me, and softly runs his hands up and down my legs.
“Ok,” I whisper, and take a deep breath. “You...you never told me, and I’ve never asked because I didn’t want to remind you about it. I know it still hurts you so much to think about them being gone...” I stop, not really sure if this should be done now.
Tristan takes another puff, and slowly blows it out. “You want to know what happened to them?” he surmises, and he’s right.
I silently nod my head. It’s very morbid, I know that, but I also want to know my man. I want to know everything he’s been through, like he does with me. And I know we are newly married, and really, we haven’t known each other that long, but my life is his life, his pain is my pain – I want to share everything with him.
Tristan takes another sip of Cognac, and I wait until he’s ready. “Gramps got sick...he had flu. We admitted him to hospital, and after three weeks he came home, but he fell ill again not shortly after, I guess his immunity took a beating...” he stops for a moment, and takes another puff and sip. “We did everything we could to help him recover, vitamins, minerals...whatever would help him back on his feet. But I came back from the office one day, I’d had a meeting I had to go to, and the ambulance was there taking him away.” He swallows hard, and stares down at the fire. “This time it was pneumonia, and he didn’t recover.” Tristan’s takes a large sip of Brandy, and I notice his cheeks have flushed, and his eyes have darkened.
Tears spring to my eyes. “Oh Tristan,” I croak, and lay my head on his shoulder. “That’s so sad,” I add, trying not to be tearful – I must be strong for him.
“Yeah...” he croaks, sniffing back the tears, and then I feel him plant a kiss on my head. “But at least he didn’t suffer. I made sure of that, he was pretty doped up through his last days. But I was...beside myself, I didn’t know what to do or say, especially to Granny. I could see it in her eyes you know, that sh
e knew this was it, and there was nothing I could do to help her,” he says, choking up again as he remembers.
“I’m so sorry Tristan,” I softly say.
“I know you are baby,” he croaks back.
We sit silently for a while, both deep in thought. And as we both take the last sip of Cognac, Tristan turns to me. “Would you like another?” he asks.
“No, I’m good thank you,” I reply, so he takes my glass, places it on the coffee table next to his, along with his half smoked cigar, then leans back, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as he does, and I cuddle closer to him by placing my arm around his waist.
“I’m not sure which was worse,” he softly says with another kiss on my head.
And I’m afraid to ask, so I say nothing, not sure of what I should ask.
“I’m making you uncomfortable,” he says.
“No,” I croak, ‘I just didn’t know what to say to that,” I whisper.
Tristan chuckles slightly. “Silenced,” he mocks.
“Hey!” I protest lightly, and then decide I will ask. “So what did you mean?” I add.
I feel him tense beneath me then sigh heavily. “Granny died in her sleep,” he softly says, ‘which in a way was worse than Gramps,” he adds croakily.
I frown deeply at his words. “Why?” I whisper, thinking that would surely be the nicer way to go.
And I can tell he’s trying not to cry. “I never got...to say goodbye,” he chokes out.
I squeeze me eyes shut - How awful that must have been for him.
“Edith had gone out for groceries, so I decided to wake Granny, and I...I found her, lying there with a slight smile on her face. I thought she was dreaming, but when I touched her to wake her, she was cold,” he says, and squeezes me tight.
I reciprocate, squeezing him back. “Oh Tristan...I understand what you meant now,” I softly say.
“I’m so lucky to have you,” he croaks, sniffing again.
“Ditto baby,” I croak back, trying hard to keep the tears at bay.
A Christmas Wish--A Contemporary Erotic Feel Good Christmas Romance (Darkest Fears Christmas Special, Book Four) Page 15
