by Cat Gardiner
Saying nothing, Will stepped back and held the door wide for her to enter. He seized that moment to breathe in her unmistakable Indiscret perfume. Having never forgotten the scent of sweet orange and jasmine, the memory of their evening on the carousel flooded his brain. Even after being caught in the rain, a trace of that delicious essence remained, the memory of their innocent love vivid.
She wore a different dress from the afternoon, more demure, yet just as flattering to her newly curved figure. Maturity and three children had given her an enticing swell to her bosom and an alluring, slight fullness to her hips. He couldn’t help his outright stare of appreciation in spite of the pain and impact of seeing her at his doorstep.
He closed the door, promptly crossing his arms over his chest as the two stood facing one another. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, not even to address her wet disarray.
Nervously, she quickly scanned her darkened surroundings, heart thundering as she silently took herself to task for acting the brazen Lizzy she had banished these long seven years. Her voice trembled slightly. “I’m sorry to intrude. You ... you have a lovely home.”
Will shifted his weight, nodding with pursed lips. That one observation gutted him.
“I … um.” Lizzy took a step toward him, her eyes pooling with tears. “I had to see you. Please say something, Will. Say anything.”
He tipped his head back, closing his eyes to keep her from seeing the pain they held. “Please go, Lizzy. Just go.”
When she took another step toward him, he was sure that she was there to torment him deliberately. He thought he’d die from her nearness.
“I can’t go. Not just yet. Please. I can’t believe you’re here.”
His pulse pounded in his ears, his blood rushing throughout him at the response to her body heat, mere inches away from him. It was as though hot, summer steam radiated from her. He looked down into her pleading eyes, and her hand reached out to rest upon his forearm folded inadvertently, protectively across his heart.
With barely a whisper, she held him prisoner.
“Don’t make me leave, Will. I need you ...”
Impulse without thought and the feel of her gentle touch against his flesh caused his immediate reaction.
He swept her into his needy arms. She was his in that moment and he would remind her how it felt to be together, would show her the mistake she made in marrying another and not waiting for him—he who loved her more than life itself. He who would die loving her.
She let out an indiscernible cry of release before their lips crashed with combustive heat, each consuming the other’s breath. No further words spoken, their mouths and hearts were fully engaged in a communication so long ago forsaken.
The taste and feel of her supple mouth was just as he remembered, her response to him the same as it ever was, and he reveled in that. She pressed her body against him and his came alive. She clutched at him with starving hands of reunion and his soul reacted.
Gone were the images of the family he had witness this morning. His only actionable thoughts at that moment were how much he needed her and how she had come to him feeling that same need. He would consume her soul and haunt her memory just as she had imprinted herself into him so long ago.
With frantic, anxious hands, Lizzy popped all the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off him in passionate frenzy. This was not why she came, but this was how it always had been between them. Passion that had never, could never, be tempered. She shoved reason and logic to that ordered domain where Elizabeth Robertsen lived. In this moment, she was Lizzy Renner, Will’s wild, impetuous Pistol, flying half-cocked into her flyboy’s arms.
Will resisted tearing at her dress, instead scooping her up into his arms, their lips still taking everything they could draw from the other.
He ascended the stairs with her captured in his fierce embrace against his chest. Her arms encircled his neck, her fingers thread through his hair, her lips tasting and savoring his. Long legs hastily climbed steps two at a time as Lizzy clung to him. His heart soared, remembering with righteous familiarity how perfectly her body felt against his. He was going to love her with every atom and molecule that formed him, for tomorrow was promised to neither of them.
Storming rain, thunder, and lightning collided simultaneously, seeming to shake Primrose Cottage as they reached the top of the stairwell.
Against the doorframe of the room he had once chosen as their bedroom, he let go of her legs and kissed her violently, moaning into the dark at the feel of her wet skin against his lips. He couldn’t stop his hands as they moved over her with passionate purpose, remembering how her body felt under his hands. After all these years, he recalled every slope, every curve, and he wanted to retrace the same path, caressing her as his mouth lay siege to her neck, her blood pulsing violently below his ravenous suckling assault.
With reluctance, she released her hold round his neck and slid one hand downward toward his face as she hitched her stocking clad leg upon his hip. He could barely hold back his arousal’s need.
Their lips separated, remaining a mere inch from one another. Deep, heavy pants commingled, and eyes remained locked as his heart released his truest smile.
Lizzy touched his dimple then tenderly kissed it. He took her hand in his, threading their fingers as they so often did years ago, and led her into their bedroom.
In the dark, Will unbuttoned her dress with tenuous fingers. Enraptured, he was about to say, “I love you. I never stopped loving you,” but she silenced his lips with her finger replacing it with her mouth when the dress dropped to the floor.
His trousers pooled at his feet, exposing him. Her slip rose above her head and floated to the floor at the foot of the bed. It only took seconds before they stood facing one another, heartbeats pounding, bared in both body and soul, stripped to only emotion and desire. She was a vision of mature perfection, her breath ragged and filled with longing against his neck when she stepped into his heated, pulsing body. Her lips began a tantalizing trail across his chest.
Will’s hands circled her soft waist and he couldn’t help crying out, “Oh G-d, Lizzy,” when her tongue flicked his hard nipple and her hand encircled his arousal. The wolf in him had been unleashed, and he guided her back toward the bed.
He made love to her heart, renewing his claim upon her soul with his tongue, fingers, and lips until her pants grew so labored that he knew neither could go further without bursting, without consummating their reunion. When she finally spoke the words he longed to hear, “I love you so much,” he entered her, both with tears streaming down their faces and cries of absolute convergence. They loved one another as they had never loved before. She was his and always would be—he knew that unequivocally. With each thrust and writhe, long lick and deep suckle, and every shudder and moan of passion, Will knew that he’d never be able to get over her for his entire life. What was meant to brand her, had done so to him.
Their passionate lovemaking was unbridled and her continued calling of his name drove him mad. He rolled, laying her upon him.
She rode him with unabashed vigor, rocking and rising with his hands cupping her full breasts, his manhood filling her deeply as though reaching for her heart.
Their ardor escalated to a feverish pitch of cries and need for release. As if liquid hot magma, it built to an explosive level until he suddenly lifted her, withdrawing from her just in time. Both shuddered and crashed in a red blinding eruption, crying out, “I love you,” in their climax as he spilled upon himself.
Will pulled her down to his chest and held her tightly against him, feeling her tremble in his arms. Reaching to the nightstand, he grabbed a handkerchief to wipe her of his seed, wishing for an entirely different outcome to their lovemaking if she had been his wife.
Stroking her back and dark locks, he clutched her, reveling in the heat of her flesh. He could feel the power of her heartbeat against his ribcage and never felt so fulfilled, so complete as he did at that moment. “I’ve missed you so mu
ch, Lizzy.”
She kissed his shoulder, continuing to lay her head upon him. “I’ve missed you, more than you can ever know.”
“You couldn’t have missed me. You married someone else.”
Depositing a tender kiss to his glistening chest, she spoke softly as though in a daze. “I thought you were dead.”
Will sighed deeply. “The record, didn’t you play the record I sent you from England?”
With a lift of her chin, their eyes locked, each searching the other’s for answers. “I never received a record.”
She never received it. She doesn’t know I proposed to her. He groaned. “I felt dead when I lost you.”
Her lips sought his with sweet emotion, traveling to his cheeks where they felt the telltale wetness of the broken man he had become. “You never truly lost me, Will. I love you more with each passing day. I’ve never stopped loving you. Ever.”
“But why …”
“Sshh ... let’s not talk of the past. Not now. Not at this moment of perfection. As fleeting as this halt of time is, we’ll have it forever, darling. Let’s not taint it with ‘should haves’ and ‘whys’ or talk of our fears and disappointments these seven years apart. It happened and can’t be changed.”
He nodded, and they shifted their weight to lay side-by-side, gazing at one another in disbelief until he brushed the hair from her face. “G-d, you’re so beautiful. Is this a dream?”
“No, silly. This couldn’t be a dream because in my dreams I never get to hold you. My dreams are nightmares, but just knowing that you’re alive is a dream come true.”
Silence and captivated study ensued as the storm tapered to drizzles of tears down the stained glass window. He wanted to beg her not to leave him again. He was a step away from pleading with her to run away with him, but he knew that she wouldn’t. She would be gone come dawn. His logical mind told him that this would never happen again, but his heart vehemently disagreed. “Baby, just answer me this—are you happy? Does he treat you well?”
She closed her eyes and nodded; a tear dropped from her cheek, and he reached to gather it. “He’s not you, if that’s what you mean. No one could ever be you. Hold me, Will. Just hold me. If this is a dream, then I don’t want to wake up.”
“I’m here, sweetheart, and I’m wherever you are, in your dreams, in your heart, and in your arms, forever, just like we dreamed.”
They fell asleep like that wrapped in one another’s embrace with legs entwined and hearts calming to a peaceful silent unison, both finding their home once again beside the other. Will slept as he hadn’t slept in years, and Lizzy dozed until her guilt surfaced, consuming her—she had a husband to face in a few hours. She, too, had questions and things to say to Will—such as if he was alive all this time, why had he not written her, and what record was she supposed to have received? Has he receive her letters? She had written him for three straight months, sometimes two letters a day, just to be sure if one got lost, he might get the other.
The tears rolled down her cheeks as she held onto him in the dark, watching the rise and fall to his strong chest as the vacating storm still illuminated the sky with flashes of lightening in the distance. Whatever happened was in the past now, no sense in reliving it. The damage was done. She was Mrs. Robertsen, another man’s wife and mother to his children.
This unforgettable night was not how it was meant to go. Her sole purpose was to hold Will’s hand and tell him that he had a child—they had a perfect daughter together. The words formed upon her lips, ready to wake him with her confession, but they died before spoken, knowing that in the light of day one man would be devastated—the sickly man who saved her and their baby: John, a good man, her best friend and faithful husband. He loved his little princess, Annette, raising her as if she were his own. It would kill him if he knew that she was even here.
At three in the morning, she quietly rose from the comfort and security of her lover’s firm embrace and sat at the edge of the bed, gazing at him for over thirty minutes. She tried to imprint his peaceful, contented expression upon her heart so that when life became too difficult, she would always remember this moment. He was beautiful and virile and still as sensitive and gentle as the young man who courted her years earlier. Moreover, he was alive and still loved her and that would see her through life’s challenges and provide a lifetime of sweet dreams. Hopefully, he knew just how much she loved him.
Scooping up her clothes and stockings, she padded barefoot down the stairs and dressed in the sitting room while staring at her image on the mantle. Yes, he still loved her. For many minutes, she looked fixedly at the framed snapshots above the fireplace and her tears flowed. Her heart clenched and she had to cover her mouth to keep from crying out in anguish.
She walked to the table nearest the console radio to borrow a pen. From her dress pocket, she removed the folded piece of stationary she had brought with her from Evermore after she and John had returned home following the christening. Initially, if her resolve to speak with Will failed, she planned to sit in the car and write to him, then slide the letter under the front door. Not only was that plan cowardice, but it was for naught because when faced with the temptation that he was only on the other side of that door, she couldn’t make herself write it. He was only a knock away. The letter she now wrote was not the one she originally intended.
August 8, 1949
My Dearest Darling,
My hand is trembling as I write this. My heart is breaking for what I must do. My tears won’t stop, yet I must swallow the anguish as I leave you, apparently, yet again. You know that what we did tonight should never have happened, but I will carry it in my heart forever, never forgetting your touch or your declarations. I will never forget how you bring me to life. My coming to see you was not to hurt you, but I don’t know, I needed to hold you in my arms and feel once again how it was between us. You are alive and my heart soars!
I know you have questions and so do I but that is in the past, a past we can never get back—the damage is long done. Let us not dwell on the forces that separated us so many years ago, but let us remember those few glorious months we spent loving one another in our youth. Let us remember this moment our souls shared together, reaffirming what we have always known—the depth of our love.
Loving you, Will, was the best part of my life, but my life is different now. I am no longer that pistol you fell in love with. I have responsibilities to the children and to John now. And I have obligations to clean up the mess, dishonor, and horrors my father left behind, and I must do so with dignity. You once told me that I could do anything I put my mind to, and I vow that to you. I will make right the wounds he inflicted upon your family and so many others. An impetuous one night of lovemaking could only lead to your and my disgrace, and I refuse to tarnish the beautiful memory of our romance.
I love you. I will never stop loving you. Never. But know, my love, you will remain in my heart and in my dreams until the end of life’s story.
Forever yours,
Lizzy
Her tears lay spent in droplets upon a letter to the man she should have married—remained optimistic for—no matter what the circumstance she had found herself in. Lizzy folded the letter, wrote “Will” across the face, and kissed his name. She left Primrose Cottage like a thief in the black night, having unknowingly stolen the last shred of love from his romantic heart.
Daybreak saw Will’s rising with a muddled scratch to his head. If not for his naked state and her lingering redolence upon the bed linen, he would have sworn it was all a dream. He ran his hand over the cool sheet beside him and closed his eyes in recollection of the unforgettable night before.
She had repeatedly spoken her daughter’s name in her sleep; he knew that looking or calling for Lizzy would prove fruitless. His girl was long gone and she took what remained of his heart with her—back to her husband and children.
He laid back down on the bed breathing in her scent and drew the linen over his head. Long gone wa
s the stoic Army Marauder Man. He wept.
~~*~~
Thirty-Five
I Think of You
June 29, 1992
The telephone continued its incessant ringing from the kitchen. Surrounded by the current mayhem of her bedroom, one flight up at Evermore, Lizzy deliberately chose to ignore it. Old empty suitcases, retrieved from storage compartments concealed behind walls, sat gaping open. Standing within the open archway that divided her normally pristine master bedroom from the adjoining dressing room, she took a deep breath. Her spacious walk-in closet was in utter disarray from its usual fastidious condition. As the ringing ceased, she sat in the armchair surveying the sleeping area of her all-white suite. Contents of hatboxes lay strewn across the carpeting at the foot of her bed and piles of purses had been unceremoniously dumped upon it. She shook her head in frustration at the absolute mess she had made.
“Where is it? Think, Lizzy, think? It’s only been twenty-eight years. Sheesh, your memory isn’t gone yet!”
Searching for something, put away somewhere, so long ago and meant not to be found, was like looking for a needle in a haystack. She had been living in this house since her marriage in 1943 and, needless to say, she and John had accumulated a ton of stuff along the way. Who knew he was such a pack rat? Well, there was a lot she didn’t know about him when they married, but that was to be expected. Back then, and at the time, his penchant for saving every single thing was the least of her problems.
Scanning the tornado-like result of her crusade, her attention was drawn to the unopened letter that lay upon the coffee table. Facing emotional pain infused with her guilt and regret, was something she naturally abhorred, but she chastised herself for putting off the inevitable. Jack had delivered the letter to her three days prior, unknowingly dumping all those emotions right in her lap. She was still spinning from the potential ramifications.
“The truth is always brought to light, isn’t it, Lizzy? What did you think—you’d just die with these secrets? Will should have been told why you married John. You should have told him when you found out he was alive.”
