by Laury Falter
“I did feel completely alone out there,” I reflected.
He sighed, allowing his head to dip slightly. “I can’t tell you how often I wanted to show myself, Magdalene. It took every bit of my will power to stop. Because I knew the moment I had, you would find some way to try and lose me. It was just…better to stay hidden.”
“I understand,” I said and he looked at me skeptically. “I do. I know guarding me isn’t the easiest job in the world.”
His jaw slackened in shock. “You admit it? Do you know…you have never once admitted that to me? Not in all the centuries I’ve known you have you ever spoken those words.”
“Well don’t expect me to repeat it.”
“Oh,” he laughed to himself. “I wouldn’t dare get my hopes up.”
His feet swung down and landed with a thump on the balcony’s wooden floorboards. Then, to my surprise, he leaned forward and took my hands. The heat radiating from his skin was both comforting and thrilling, coaxing my stomach in to flip flops.
“Do you know what I’ve missed most about you?”
I shook my head, unable to speak. After all these years I was still exhilarated at the very touch of his skin.
“This…this right now. Being able to sit with you and know that you see me and I see you. It is such a precious gift…” His hands tightened around mine before he dropped his head and laughed to himself. “Before I fell, before I came here in human form, I would sit this close to you.”
My eyes widened. “You did? When? I never saw you.”
“And you wouldn’t have. But I was there with you…always. Here on the balcony, beside you in classes at your new school, next to you at The Square. I was always with you. But I could never touch you.” He rubbed his thumb along the contours of my hand. “That was the most difficult part and that was what I went through again these last weeks.”
“So you do want to touch me?” I asked innocently.
He tilted his head back and released a bellow of laughter. “You think I don’t?”
“Well, you haven’t…not since I left you…” My head tilted to the side briefly. “I mean, not since I thought I left you.”
“I was giving you time, Magdalene, to readjust.” He said this while trying to hold back a smile.
Instantly, I felt foolish. “Ah…”
He released one of my hands and I worried he might be pulling away, despite what he’d just mentioned. To my relief, he cupped my chin in his hand and said, “Your health and safety is my first priority. As your guardian it needs to be this way. My need to feel you comes second.”
I swallowed, excitement growing in me the longer he stared. “I’m healthy…and I’m safe.”
His face tightened then as a wave of passion coursed through him. I could almost see the intensity of it feverishly boiling in him.
He leaned closer, his breath quickening, and placed his lips on mine. They were soft at first but our passion took over and before I knew it, we were standing, our hips pressed against one another. My fingers were in his shaggy, curly hair; his were gripping my waist, pulling me closer.
In the heat of it, he picked me up, his arms wrapping iron-clad around my waist, and carried me in to my bedroom. A few steps across the room and the door was kicked closed. I was on my back then, his warm, firm body on top of me. His hands were in my hair now, entwining with my curls. My lips crushed his and he responded with equal enthusiasm. The bed gave way to our weight, creaking slightly, as we moved towards the headboard. His thumbs were in my jeans, pulling them down. Our bodies moved in a rhythm, following each other as they lifted and fell, twisting together until the bedcovers were tangled around us. He groaned and roughly yanked the covers aside and then he paused.
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
He drew in a ragged breath. “Not like this…” he muttered and rolled to the side, his arms coming off me and lifting above his head. He was still breathing heavily when I laid my cheek on his shoulder. “Not like this…” He reached down and brushed the hair from my face. “You deserve better.”
“Eran, I’m already your wife,” I reminded him.
“No…I mean yes. You are my wife spiritually.” He shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. He groaned then and slapped a hand over his eyes, brushing the hair from his forehead in aggravation. Then he explained, “Magdalene, when was the last time we made love?”
“I don’t remember.” Now I was thoroughly confused.
“I do and it was on our wedding night.” He said this with such declaration I couldn’t have misunderstood his meaning.
My breath caught in my chest. “We’ve only made love once…”
“Only once and over a hundred years ago,” he confirmed. “And…” he sat up, lifting himself off the bed, “…I’d like it to be more special than a quick roll in the covers before our housemates find us.”
“You’re going to leave me like this?” I asked, dumbfounded.
He laughed mockingly at himself. “No, Magdalene. I’m leaving myself like this…at least until I can find a way for us to be together without any inhibition, without housemates, without time constraints.” He started for the door, almost as if he was fearful of second guessing his decision.
When he had nearly reached it, I said softly, “I’m sorry watching over me is such a challenge.”
He stopped, sensing the concern in my voice. “You’re worth every frustrating moment,” he replied with a smirk, trying to turn my statement to a more lighthearted one.
I started to ask, “Do you ever…”
He paused and turned back to me. “Ever?” he prompted.
“Do you ever regret the decision to be my guardian?” The words came out with a struggle, half of me needing to hear the answer and half of me abhorring the truth.
He marched across the room, took my hands, and then waited for me to look at him. When I did, I found his expression softened, almost sympathetic. He knew how hard it was for me to ask that question.
“Never,” he declared, which allowed me to breath easily again. His signature smirk rose up then. “If I weren’t your guardian, if you weren’t my ward, and we were in the very same situation as we are now I would be behaving the same way. I want you, all of you, and I want you tonight and every night for the rest of our existence. This has nothing to do with being your guardian, Magdalene. This has to do with ensuring we can make love without getting caught.”
I couldn’t help myself then. I laughed and soon he was laughing with me. Despite being hundreds of years old, he suffered from the same classic dilemma as any other teenage boy, and that we found humorous.
As his laughter settled down, he said tenderly to me, “I do love you. I will find a way for us to be together.”
“Good,” I said firmly.
“Now,” he released me and stepped across the room, placing his hand on the light switch, “go to sleep. The afterlife is waiting.”
He turned off my lights and closed the door.
I sighed heavily and then spent the next several minutes before sleep overtook me trying to quiet my craving to slip across the hall and into his bedroom.
The last thing I thought before I awoke in the Hall of Records was very reassuring: Thankfully, Eran always kept his word. I just hoped he would fulfill his promise soon.
CHAPTER THREE: WELCOME BACK
Ms. Beedinwigg had been a teacher at the private high school that Eran and I attended for exactly three months and already she had built herself a reputation.
Mr. Warden, our principal, liked her even less than he disliked me.
And that was saying something.
I discovered this important fact at breakfast the following morning, the very same morning that I planned to ask Ms. Beedinwigg to help convince Mr. Warden to allow Eran and me back to school.
Ezra, true to her nature, was awake for hours before me. Because of her early risings, she had already been on the phone with Ms. Beedinwigg by then. When I entered the k
itchen she was leaning against the counter nearest the phone, grasping her steaming coffee mug, and staring at the tiled floor. When my movement caught her attention she looked up.
“I’m not sure how she did it but Ms. Beedinwigg got you back in…”
“Really? How?” I implored more surprised than excited. After all, we were talking about school.
Ezra shook her head. “She is one resourceful woman,” she added glancing at me. “Do you know Mr. Warden placed her at the top of his so-to-speak hit list after you failed to show up on campus again?”
“No,” I said, stunned. Ms. Beedinwigg was my favorite teacher so I would gladly have taken her place. My heart softened even more for her in that moment, knowing personally how malicious the warden could be. Then something occurred to me. “How could she possibly have gotten me and Eran back in then?”
Ezra shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her…tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock sharp.” That was a clear hint not to be late to my first scheduled class.
“What happens tomorrow morning?” asked Felix as he entered the kitchen.
Eran was directly behind him, his eyes already on me, a sly grin showing that he was remembering last night.
In response, I actually felt my cheeks heat up.
He grinned deeper and, while passing by, leaned towards me allowing his lips to graze my cheek before whispering in my ear. “You’re blushing, my love.”
That, of course, intensified it.
Thankfully, Ezra showed no signs of noticing, although experience told me that she had. Instead, she recounted the phone conversations between her and Ms. Beedinwigg this morning as they plotted our return to school. I took a seat at the kitchen table and allowed most of my attention to follow Eran around the room.
Inside, my stomach was doing somersaults each time he glanced in my direction.
Just as Ezra finished, Rufus entered the kitchen.
“The Warden,” he muttered with unmasked contempt. “Sharp as a beach ball, that one…”
Eran chuckled lightly as he pulled two bowls and a box of cereal from the cabinet.
“Tut tut tut!” Felix stopped him, physically taking the bowls and cereal to replace them in the cabinets. “This calls for a celebratory breakfast!”
Those very words whisked away any hunger pangs about to rise up. Eran lifted his eyebrows at me, showing he was just as hesitant.
To our surprise, Felix came through for us this meal. He prepared a traditional New Orleans breakfast of Eggs Nouvelle Orleans or specifically poached eggs served on a bed of lump crabmeat and topped with a brandy-cream sauce. It left me full while still wanting more, something that had never happened with any of Felix’s culinary treats. Unfortunately, he was back to himself by the end of the meal, suggesting he make oysters in raspberry sauce for dinner.
We each simultaneously declined his offer.
Breakfast had taken a while so by the time we reached The Square that morning I had customers already waiting for me. I delivered their messages from those loved ones in the afterlife who they’d asked me to visit the night before as efficiently as I could. But, my main distraction kept moving in to my view and reminding me of the night before. Whether by design or accident, he was teasing me and I’m sure it showed. Stumbling over my words, taking deep breaths to clear my thoughts, blinking back the memory of him on top of me were all attempts to give my customers their due attention…and none of it worked.
It was a very long day.
He approached me at sunset wearing his signature smirk. He knew he’d gotten to me.
Without saying a word, he simply went about collecting my chairs and sign to place in the trunk of Felix’s car.
On the bike as we drove home he was no different, leaning back against me, laying his cheek on the side of my helmet.
“Careful,” he warned more than once as my concentration remained on him and I nearly hit a curb or took out a construction cone.
Dinner was no different. He kept one eye on me as we each moved around the kitchen, me setting the table and him helping Felix with snail jambalaya.
At the table, he pressed his leg against mine, tenderly so that I wasn’t sure if he meant to or was simply stretching. My heart fluttered more than once throughout dinner.
By the end of the night, I was thoroughly annoyed with him and with myself for being unable to control his impact on me.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who noticed either.
“Would ya two stop that now?” Rufus muttered, shaking his head at us. “Makin’ me sicker than Felix’s jambalaya…”
“What?” Felix’s head snapped up. “You don’t like my dinner?”
“Is that any surprise?” Ezra asked, though she said it delicately so that Felix wasn’t too offended. She didn’t give him time to answer, instead turned to chastise us. “You two do need to end it. You’ve been at it every time I see you.”
“At what? Been at what?” Felix implored, confused.
“Eat your jambalaya, Felix,” Ezra coaxed softly.
Felix’s head swung between the rest of us trying to pick up any hint of what he’d missed, but he found nothing. Rufus was back to challenging himself to finish what was in his bowl and Ezra had preoccupied herself with a gnat that was circling her head, although I thought that might be a fake diversion.
When I glanced at Eran, he was already looking at me, watching my reaction. Despite the fact that I had every right to behave stoically romantic with my husband and that I wasn’t even the one making the gestures, I felt my cheeks burning.
Being reprimanded by Ezra was what I figured was equivalent to being scolded by a mother.
Eran, for his part, was not blushing. He was confident and mischievous, and to make matters worse, his leg leaned further in to mine.
The rest of dinner was short and then I helped with the dishes. Eran allowed Rufus to dry and instead kept his eyes on me from the table. I knew this because I felt it and then confirmed it with quick glances in the reflection of the window above the sink.
He held a conversation with Felix about the virtues of southern cuisine until I’d finished my chore. Then he smoothly transitioned out of the conversation to follow me upstairs.
The silence coming from the kitchen after we left told me that my housemates were not fooled, Ezra least of all. I expected to hear her footsteps approaching the second floor in ten minutes.
She knew very well that I was married to Eran in my past life and yet while he was the guardian of my life she was the protector of my virtue.
I felt like I should be wearing a chastity belt.
As I entered my room, Eran surprised me by not coming up behind me. Instead, he stayed leaning against the door jam, his arms crossed so that his muscles rolled up over his chest. I was already at the French doors of my balcony, flinging them open when he spoke.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me today?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“You?” I spun around. “What I’ve done to you?”
“Yes.” He nodded, innocently.
My head shook in amazement.
“Why do you think I’m not coming in?” he asked, tipping his head towards my room. “I don’t trust myself. Not after what you’ve been doing.”
My mouth fell open but no words came out.
“You’ve done this a few times before,” he reflected. “Paris…the cabin…”
“Do what?” I asked my voice just below a shout. How could he be accusing me of anything when it was his motions that had driven me mad the entire day?
“Keep me…impassioned,” he thought better of what he was trying to tell me and then added, “Tantalized.”
Part of me was in shock and part of me was undeniably proud. The fact that I could tease this man who kept me on my sexual edge whenever I knew he was in the room, made me feel like I’d succeeded in something.
Not knowing what else to say, I replied, “Well I can tell you that you’ve been doing the same to me.”
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br /> “I have?” he asked, astonished. His eyebrows lifted and his head tilted forward telling me that his surprise was genuine. He had no idea.
“Yes,” I stated firmly.
We stared at each other, the distance a palpable thing between us but neither one of us knowing how to shake our muscles in to moving towards one another. In him, I could – for the first time - see that he fought the same circumstance as me. Neither of us had any hint of an idea how completely inflamed with passion we each were with the other. Apparently, we’d just discovered a limitation in our ability to feel each other’s emotions. Unfortunately, it stopped at the sexual level.
“So what did you do about it? Back then in Paris…at the cabin,” I asked quietly, demurely though I wasn’t trying to be.
His eyes took on a gleam. “I’ll show you.”
He strode in the room, took my face in his hands, and guided me to him. Our lips met and then our arms were around each other and our thighs were pressing against one another and I could feel his lips move along my jaw and down my neck and then…I heard Ezra’s footsteps.
Eran pulled away at exactly that same moment, his muscles strained, his breathing coming in short gasps.
“I’m leaving now,” he called out, defeated and yet irritated at the same time.
The footsteps stopped.
“Excellent,” said Ezra from around the corner. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”
He frowned down at me.
“School tomorrow,” she reminded, her voice already fading as she descended the stairs.
Eran laughed through his nose. “School tomorrow,” he repeated in a tender whisper. “Sleep well.”
“You too,” I said watching him leave my room.
He winked at me before closing the door, which gave me something enjoyable to think about as I lay in bed waiting for sleep to take over. Because of it, that night, I rested fully and woke up refreshed the next morning.
