As always, I am humbled by the love and support of lala-kate and Cls2011 of this series, and their toleration of my doubt and worry. The closest thing to baring my soul, this series is a walk in grief and living, and learning that there can be a future with hope.
Winter
It has all been a whirlwind, like the sweep of swirling snowflakes on midwinter's eve. So much darkness, so little light, and all the delicate kisses of white that danced in a mad tumble and twirl as she watched. Memories of snowfalls past laced the edges of everything and she learned gentle acceptance of them. So little light to the days now, make the most of it, let those whispered fragments of life frozen dance in the joy of it.
And because of that, she hadn't wanted to wait. As she had stepped past that last veil, out from that last scrap of shadows that clung to her, she didn't want to wait for time, wait for nothing, wait for waiting, wait until death stalked close again.
How glad she is now, in this room with windows laced in frost, that there had been no wait, no cold facing her in early morning hours, no silent chill that would not shift, wrapped about her. Instead, it was all heat, embers uncovered and raked into something new. She had no need for fire when there was his skin against her, radiating a warmth in and out that awed her, wakened her gently each day in the dark before dawn, letting her slip into these sleepy half-dreaming thoughts, replaying each moment past, imagining each moment to come.
He had known as autumn crept to a close.
Would you answer a question if I asked it?
It would depend on the question.
That slight tilt of his head, the warmth of his expression, both teasing and yet quietly serious.
There is only one question I'm burning to ask you.
A pause. A smile. Another steady step away from the darkness.
Would you be ready for the answer?
That smile of his that sparked too much inside her.
From you, yes. Only from you.
Fingertips held to lips. The kiss of his words there against her, a line to her heart, to her soul, and everything trembled.
Will you?
Emotion constricts his words, any more than those two he manages catch in his throat. But his eyes speak everything else to her, a question so powerful. Flames of amber in that rich brown consume her, draw her closer in even as she rises from the ashes, burning anew.
Her answer is caressed against his lips.
Yes.
A sigh now against the nape of her neck, warm breath pooling there and racing down her spine in a slow and steady tempo, waking every nerve in her being, settling each in a gentle embrace. A hand large and warm against the still flat plane of her belly, their curves shaping into each other, each fitting more perfectly with every moment that passes.
All elation, all hope, a belief in things to come with each breath. Until. Until that sudden fear, the thought, a memory rushing in on her, greedy with doubt to take it all away.
I can't.
Cold dread of a different sort suddenly taking over his expression, words freezing on his lips. She tried to reach out to brush the frost away, but couldn't escape the fingers of chill reality that crept in to keep pulling at her. Pulling her back, away, down into cold earth. She shook her head, finding his hand, pleading with her grip for him to lift her back out of it.
Not —.
A shaking breath of panic stops her from being able to say more. The shadows curl around her ankles, and she could feel her steps halting, faltering. To tread that ground where he now lay. To stand at that alter where they had stood.
Fingers warm and alive wrapped around hers, sudden understanding melting the distance between them, his body chasing away the chill.
No, not there. I know.
A soft murmur against her temple. Tears loose unexpected as she nods against him. He did know.
His words, steadying her once again, reminding her of the strength she already had, that she was moving forward but it was expected to glance back. Always he was reminding her she needn't tread these paths alone. Hands insufficient, arms sought to hold, to shelter through each small storm. Gratitute has no words but only gentle breaths against his neck as they learn to dance with this ghost that will always visit from time to time. They ken steps to avoid the chill but never ignore the presence. Shadows dance in the light of flames, but neither are conquered in the balance of things past and things present. To each, an honor, a breath of living, a being of passion, honesty and love that can exist in a heart again and again.
And now, this, gentle peace in darkness and winter light, heat that balanced her, healed her and let her see life in a new way. She had felt that seed of hope, that bit of her that wanted life again in every way. How quickly life had answered her, rushing in to enter her again, an unexpected benediction to her decision, a nod to them both.
As she lay there in the fold of his arms, waiting again for the unsteady tilt of her stomach that had begun to steal in each dawn about now. Senses suddenly more finely attuned to what shifted and stirred in her body and what shifted and stirred outside her. She could sense the house begin to stir, felt more than heard an awakening, knew moments before a scullery maid slipped in to light the fire, sensed an imperceptible cry that she knew was her son's, felt the echoes of silent footfalls on carpet as daylight was prepared for once again. Just as she could feel that uncurling, that gentle shift in her belly, an odd tug, an imagined nuzzle, tenderness creeping behind the slight swelling to her breasts. She had known this before. She hadn't expected it again, not so soon, not so joyfully wanted that it made her want to wrap herself up in a giddy bliss.
An unsteady breath let out and arms held her tighter, legs wrapped more securely with hers. She almost wanted to laugh, with joy, with fear, with amusement that emotions could topple from one to another so quickly. Now just there, under his hand, unknown. All he had offered, all he had given, unknowing of just how much it was.
That stirring, inside and out, the rise of the rhythm of his body from dreams to waking. She felt it along every inch of her body and shuddered into the pull that came with it. Lips whispered along bare skin, shivers and smiles blossoming in their wake. His embrace stronger, palm firmer against her and she closed her eyes for one more endless moment of now, not yet ready to let her thoughts fly ahead.
When will you tell me?
A murmur against her neck, the soft caress of his thumb against her belly.
A skipped beat. Misheard thoughts in the darkness of not yet dawn.
Tell me.
The truth of what she heard a quaking echo down to where she knew the answer, the answer to a now burning question he couldn't possibly know to ask. And yet, he breathed it in, tasted it on her, saw every bit of her even those places she refused to look herself.
The imperceptible shake of her head, the warmth of tears filing the corners of her eyes. His hand strokes her skin again, cups against her, warms her where she knows there is a hope stirring.
I'm not sure there is anything to tell. It would be so sudden. It … it doesn't seem it can be real.
Lips brushing her cheek, catching the salt of her fears that slipped free.
Not regret?
Turning, she comes at him an unexpected storm, arms wrapping around him, face pressed against his neck, every inch of her finding him and molding herself to him, seeking to share that sense of knowing she has. She needs him to feel all that she does.
Never.
Words alone can't capture the depth of her love, of her emotion, of hope he promised to her and held under his hand. Frost would lace the windows during the night, creeping up to blur the world outside, and yet she knew, always knew, there was a fire that blazed inside, wrapping them both in its warmth and safety.