On 4/19 (On 4/19 and Beyond 4/20)

by Lisa Heaton

  Realizing her mother was indicating that it was time to go, Chelsea took one final look in the mirror. Along with pearls, she insisted on wearing the locket John gave her for Christmas. At that moment it was glistening in the sunlight, a tiny wink from the Lord, she believed. Before turning away, she grasped the locket and flipped it open to reveal their photos. Smiling at his, she closed her eyes and prayed another in a long line of thanks to God. He had heard her all along.

  Waiting under an arbor draped with fluffy white fabric, John watched anxiously for Chelsea, knowing she would appear from around the side of the house at any moment. The entire yard was like a snow drift, and he could hardly wait to see her face when she saw it. At nearly dusk, lights were strung all around the yard, twinkling, and creating a soft glow. As the wedding preparations got further underway, Gail and Chelsea’s sisters decided to keep the details from Chelsea. Only John knew, as the bills rolled in as fast as he could pay them. Even Irene became involved, with her never-take-no attitude. It was she who secured the appointment for Chelsea’s dress. The amount of money she committed to close down the store long enough for the Whittaker women to dress shop was astronomical. Of course John could not have cared less. He would pay any amount to give Chelsea the wedding she deserved, a wedding months overdue.

  While he knew their time apart was what crippled him enough to cause him to seek the Healer, he still regretted having ever left her. Bob’s account of Chelsea’s withdrawal from life during that time weighed heavily on John’s heart and his shoulders. Always he was to blame. So finally, able to begin anew with her, he wanted nothing more than for this to be a perfect day, one that would somehow make up for all the months of heartache and hoping.

  Waiting, fidgeting and nervous, his breathing becoming more and more labored by the minute, the music changed from soft background noise to the sound of the wedding march, and in that moment, his knees felt suddenly weak. His dad reached for him and touched his shoulder, a silent reassurance. Having his dad and Mark by his side was what had gotten him through the afternoon. All throughout the day he prayed, pleading with God to give him enough time, to keep him healthy in order to have a long life with her. Fear of leaving Chelsea too soon caused him to question, if only momentarily, whether he should go through with the ceremony. While he never would have admitted it to a living soul, and certainly he would never admit his final doubts to Chelsea, he considered walking away, but again, only momentarily. That thought caused him to nearly hyperventilate, prompting Mark to hurry down the hall to get him a bottle of water. He had to sit on Preston’s bed to keep from passing out. Of course Bobby made terrible fun of him. Under the scrutiny of mocking eyes, John was mostly embarrassed by a display of such teenage nervousness.

  John’s reminiscing halted as he noticed movement beside the house. Appearing from around the corner was Gail, accompanied by Bobby. He escorted her to her seat. Preston accompanied John’s mother and then joined Bobby up front, standing next to John’s dad and Mark. Then the wedding procession began. Chelsea’s nieces dropped white rose petals while her nephew stomped angrily down the aisle. Clearly he was not thrilled about his role as ring bearer. Guests chuckled as he made his way toward the front. John watched as Lucy, Macy, Lexie, and Caitlin all began to walk slowly toward him. Lucy giggled and covered her mouth when he winked at her. Since losing her latest tooth, she’d become overly conscious of the gap there. He winked again and wiggled one finger at her.

  With the last of the bridesmaids in place, he saw Chelsea round the corner holding her father’s arm, and at the sight of her, John felt tears spring to his eyes. Her dress was almost exactly what he’d imagined her wearing. It was a gown he would have picked himself. The top was fitted satin with no real adornment, but beginning at the waist he could see dazzling beads, thousands of them catching and reflecting the twinkling lights from overhead. Near the bottom, there was a gradual expanse of fabric flowing into a train. She was positively stunning, even more so than he’d anticipated.

  His mind traveled to the first time he saw her in an evening gown. While in Vegas, she chose a dress with no back, more revealing than anything he had seen her in before or since. That evening, she looked as mature as he’d ever seen her, up until this moment. Today, she seemed even more grownup than he usually gave her credit for. Her face was only partially hidden behind her veil, so he could see her expression was soft but serious. Having expected her to look nearer to giddy, her thoughtful appearance caused him to wonder; was it settling upon her, the commitment she was about to make to a man more than twice her age? Was that what she was contemplating as she walked toward him? Only once did she smile at him, and even then, he found he could think of little else but that she was making a huge mistake in marrying him. No matter her appearance of maturity, she was still so young, with all her life before her.

  As if she were walking into a cloud, Chelsea could hardly believe the transformation of the property. Everywhere she looked it was soft and billowy white. Her sisters and mother had done a spectacular job with the wedding. For a split second, that was what caught her attention, at least until she felt John’s gaze upon her. The way he stared at her, from that moment on, she thought of nothing but him. Smiling, she realized, he looked exactly as he did the first day they met. In his office his look was just as severe. He was nervous, maybe even wondering if he were doing the right thing. She knew him that well. Jaws tight and teeth clenching, she could see the veins in his neck were bulging, threatening to burst in his nervousness. When she drew nearer to him, she found he had tears pooled in his eyes, which caused tears to form in hers. Never, she was quite certain, could she love him anymore than she did at that moment. Never would she be loved the way John loved her.

  When her father handed her off to him, Chelsea heard John sigh heavily, from nerves or relief, she wasn’t quite sure which. And when they took their positions before the pastor, she was a bit stunned when John held up one finger to him and then took a step closer to her.

  He whispered, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Reaching up, he traced his fingertips along her cheek. “You’re so young.”

  Chelsea closed her eyes, and when she did, a tear spilled over onto her face. Taking that final step, closing all distance between them, she rested her forehead on his chest, and he gently embraced her. For just a moment she stood there quietly. Within minutes, she would be John’s wife, not his date or escort or his girlfriend. She would be his wife, and he would be her husband. Of all the things she’d ever prayed for in her life, this was what she wanted most. It was all she wanted, nothing more was needed. Finally, finding her voice, she looked up at him and grinned. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I want to be forever real.”

  Grinning broadly in return, he sighed in relief. “That’s my girl.”

  The pastor cleared his throat and each took a step back to their original position.

  As their vows were spoken, everyone who watched could find no more reason to doubt. No matter their ages, it was clear, with every word spoken, theirs was a love that few find in this life, the kind of love all search for but few discover.

  From the moment she was pronounced Mrs. John Keller until they left for home, Chelsea rarely let go of John. She held to him tightly, as if he might disappear at any moment. They ate and danced and shared cake. All throughout the evening they laughed and whispered into one another’s ears. It was the best evening of her life, and without question, her husband felt the same. As the night wore on, she intentionally captured each memory in her head as if she were snapping photographs, of her parents dancing, of John dancing with Lucy. Every sight and sound was something she wanted to hold onto forever. Many times during the evening, she had to wonder if she were possibly dreaming. How could anything real be so completely perfect?

  John was satisfied that his bride had the wedding she deserved. Never had he seen her so excited, yet at the same time so quietly content. Though it was late into the evening she still glowed, just as
her father aptly called her, like sunshine. They danced and she never seemed to tire. Instead, she clung to him as they moved on the dance floor. Even to the faster songs, they embraced and slowly swayed together. Often, John found he’d forgotten they were surrounded by others. As if all alone in a foggy dream, he held her close, lost in the notion that she was finally and completely his. More than once, he recalled the emptiness he felt while they were apart, memories that caused him to grip her even more tightly. He didn’t want to feel such emptiness again; he couldn’t withstand it. For so many years he lived life with no hope of ever knowing such a love, and now that he knew it, he would do anything and everything to hold onto it.

  By the looks of things, the party might go on for much longer. No one seemed interested in leaving and everyone was still laughing and talking and dancing. Nearly at midnight and while dancing still, John whispered, “Old people can’t stay out so late.”

  Batting innocent eyes up at him, she asked, “So you need to go home and get some sleep?”

  Eyes narrowing, he moved his lips near her ear and assured her, “Sleep has yet to cross my mind, little girl.”

  His warm breath in her ear caused the hair on the back of her neck to prickle. Her heart began to thud in hard steady beats against her ribs. As nervous as she was excited, she gently traced her fingers along his collar and up to his neck. Lifting on tip toes, she whispered back, “Sleep has yet to cross my mind either.”

  Taking her hand, he abruptly led her from the dance floor. “Decide who you need to say goodbye to. You have five minutes.”

  The intensity of the moment left Chelsea reeling. Bewildered, she set off to say her quick goodbyes.

  John pulled into the driveway of their home and switched off the ignition. Their home, he liked that. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Pinching his arm, she said, “We agreed no gifts.” As if she could buy him anything he didn’t already have.

  “It’s not a big deal. I promise.”

  As a man of tradition, John carried Chelsea through the front door and made no move to set her down. Instead, he walked with her into the kitchen and to the refrigerator. On a piece of notebook paper, he’d written in thick, black marker, “John and Chelsea – NO expiration date!” It was duct taped to the door.

  “That is a pretty big deal to me.”

  Lowering her to her feet, he pulled her into his arms, agreeing, “It is a pretty big deal, isn’t it?”

  Resting his forehead on hers, he slipped his hands behind her neck and tilted her head up so that he could kiss her. As his wife, already he’d kissed her dozens of times. He could hardly do anything else all throughout the wedding reception. Each time his lips touched hers he was reminded that this night she would stay with him, not go off to a separate home and a separate bed. Finally, he would fall asleep with her in his arms, and for once, not on a cramped sofa.

  Since they began what was considered a real relationship and his desire for her grew so much stronger, on more than one occasion he was forced to leave her earlier than he intended simply to remove himself from the temptation he felt. One time in particular dominated his thoughts.

  The night before flying out for Italy, when they were in New York, they were sitting together on the sofa. She was snuggled in with him watching the news. Out of character for her, she exclaimed, “This is boring!” and then moved onto his lap and began to kiss him. Early on, she was simply being playful, but the mood quickly shifted, and at one point, he felt her fingers trembling, uncertain, yet daring as they softly caressed his cheek. He caught fire within and so desperately wanted her, he soon had to leave the apartment and take a walk in the cold night air. When he returned, he found her asleep on the sofa. That memory was one that chased him endlessly in dreams while they were apart, causing an infinite ache within him.

  Finally, there was no need to hold back. What he felt, what he needed from her was not something to run from. Lifting her again from her feet, John carried her through the house and to the stairwell. He walked slowly with her, deliberately, kissing her all the while as he carried her up to their bedroom. Once there, he laid her gently on the bed, and finally was able to love her in the way he’d longed to do. Within those first moments, that deep and weighty internal longing he felt was satisfied. Just as completely as he was hers, she was his. As he held her close and kissed her long, there in the semi-darkness, she clung to him. He made love to his wife passionately and absolutely, never having known such intimacy and beauty. There was never a moment in his life when he felt such complete abandon to another. Always, a part of him was held in reserve, unwilling to give all of who he was. Tonight, though, he held nothing back, offering all of himself to her.

  Once, as he trailed kisses along her shoulder blades, he felt her shaking, as if she might be crying. Moving so that he could see her face, coming to rest on his side facing her, he found that she was. Reaching for her, he moved in closer so that his nose was touching hers and whispered, “Baby, have I hurt you?” At the thought of it, a deep sense of regret washed over him. In his desire and impatience for her, he’d lost sight of her inexperience. Overcome by his own need for her, he had oftentimes not been as gentle as he’d urged himself to be in those first moments.

  Chelsea shook her head, but for a time was unable to express the suspicions and fears that had bombarded her heart. Just enough streetlight appeared through the windows, allowing her to see the concern on his face. By his expression she could see he was upset at the thought of causing her pain. Not once had he caused her any physical discomfort. The sweetness and tenderness he’d shown as he made love to her and how he gently guided her, helping her to know how to love him in return, moved her to tears at times. What she was feeling at that moment, instead, was a wave of insecurity and doubt, a wondering mind conjuring up images of all the ones who came before her. The mere thought of such intensity and intimacy between John and another tormented her. To know his lips caressed others’ skin the way his was hers, the way he so gently touched her stomach and ribs, and the penetrating way in which he stared into her eyes, simply the knowledge that she was not his only one caused her heart to break. As ridiculous as it was to be jealous, considering he’d lived a lifetime before her, she asked, “Did you love them all this way?”

  Circling his arm around her, he drew her into him. Brushing his lips along her cheek, he assured her, “No. Never.” Feeling the weight of her question settle upon him, John sighed. Having spent his entire life taking, he never gave of himself the way he had to Chelsea this night. “There’s been no one but you, never this kind of love, never love at all.”

  Ashamed, John could hardly admit to Chelsea how such blurred encounters were approached from the sterile perspective of his own gratification, never that of the other. Even in all his years with Tracy, he was a separate being from her, never once feeling the oneness he felt with Chelsea in those first moments of making love to her. His only need for gratification this night would be met by expressing his love for her; his only motivation was that she somehow feel the inexpressible love that was pent up inside his heart. Words to articulate his absolute devotion to her could never be found. He’d tried in vain to utter them over the course of months they were back together, so it was his hope that he might speak the unspeakable as he made love to her in those quiet moments together, their first night in each other’s arms.

  By her tearful response to his outpouring of love, she obviously felt something so deep and so meaningful that she could only wonder if this was what was usual for him. Nothing about this night was ordinary; it was the very beginning point of living, in his estimation. For as long as God would allow him, John would make every moment with Chelsea just as extraordinary.

  Lightly kissing her neck, he demanded, “Say you believe me when I tell you there has never been love before you.” She whispered that she did. From that moment forward, he spoke her name often, telling her how deeply and how completely he loved her, and over and over he whispered, “
You are my only one.”

  Each time, she echoed his words, “You are my only one.”

  Early in the morning hours, John was resting but not asleep. Chelsea had been asleep for only a little while. It was still dark out, but slowly light began to creep in through the shutters, so he could more clearly make out her form. Smiling, he reached over and pulled the quilt up over her. Once, when they were in Italy, he was on his way to bed long after she was asleep. Peeking into her room, he found her lying there similarly to how she was now, sprawled out and sleeping on her stomach. The covers were a mess, and she’d knocked a pillow off onto the floor. That night, she looked like a sleeping child. This morning, however, she didn’t appear that way to him at all. Based on the hours they’d just shared, he would never again see her in the same light. There was a subtle intensity as she loved him out of that place of innocence and inexperience, one that he never anticipated.

  When Chelsea began to stir, he leaned down and kissed her bare shoulder. “Good morning. I’m surprised to see you awake so early.”

  Peeking one eye open, she sleepily drawled, “I can hardly sleep I’m so happy.”

  Her eyes were droopy, and once again she reminded him of a little girl, his woman/child. “You are so beautiful in the morning light.” Wrapping his arm around her, he scooped her nearer to him and moved his lips to her ear. “If you count up fifty times three hundred and sixty five, I’ve had a whole lot of nights, and last night, was by far, the best one of them all.”

  She circled her arms around him and snuggled into his chest. Breathing in deeply, she drew in the fading scent of his aftershave. “You smell just like my wedding,” and giggling, she added, “and my wedding night.” Sighing in sheer contentment, Chelsea closed her eyes again and conjured up images of the way he touched her and loved her in the quiet hours of the night. It was beyond what she expected. For obvious reasons, she anticipated him to be tender and undemanding, but instead, he was crazed with passion for her, unrelenting in his determination to have all of her. She was reminded of when they were sitting on the beach together in Santa Monica and how she encountered that side of him then. When he held her, there was this urgency she felt, something indescribable, yet clearly visible. His eyes were ablaze with longing. That was the man who loved her the past night; until finally, at four in the morning, he rolled over in sheer exhaustion, warning her he was far too old for a wife in her twenties. From that point forward, they simply held each other and whispered plans for their future.