I do not own Garden of Shadows or any of its characters, likenesses, or places. They belong to V.C. Andrews.
Even before Garland had finished saying goodbye I was missing him. As a result, I felt two tears squeeze themselves from my eyes without any effort on my part. What was wrong with me? Why was I suddenly behaving like a child of five? Was I merely being overly self conscious, or had I gone mad? The thought of not knowing the answers to these questions was frightening, and as a result I cried out for Garland. But by now he was surely all the way downstairs, at the other end of the mansion. He couldn't possibly have heard me.
My over-active emotions had exhausted me, and I soon fell into a tranquil yet partial sleep. The kind of sleep a person experiences during a ride in an automobile. I was jolted awake within ten minutes, by the sound of the bedroom door breaching forward. I opened my eyes to see my husband reenter, this time with a steaming mug and two chocolate chip cookies poised together on a saucer.
"How are you feeling?" was the first question he asked me.
"Better." My face felt sticky from all the tears I'd shed, and my throat was soar from the amount of sobbing I'd done. But I was doing better than I was when Garland had first discovered me, standing half naked before the mirror.
He handed me the saucer, while he pushed the other items he'd brought me into another corner of the nightstand to make room. "I hope you don't mind, but I telephoned Dr. Braxten while I was downstairs. He'll be coming by in a few hours to do a psychological examination. He seems to think it's just some sort of fit you were having, but doesn't want to take any chances. And frankly, neither do I."
"Oh, Garland," I protested. "I wish you'd spoken to me before taking it upon yourself to get Dr. Braxten involved in all this. What happened to me earlier doesn't require any psychological examination. That's silly. What I did was just a result of the fatigue I've been feeling lately. You see, even with the nanny you hired, I'm still adjusting to the idea of being a mother. It's going to take time before I'm able to fall completely into a new routine." This was a complete lie, and I was sure Garland could see right through it as one does a newly polished window. In a way I was grateful for him making such a close observation, as it would save me from the agony of the guilt of lying to him. Next to making my husband happy, my only other wish in life was to be the best mother I could be. And he knew it. "Honestly. Sometimes you worry far, far too much."
"It is only because I love you that I worry so," replied Garland stubbornly. I couldn't help but smile at how sweet he looked as his eyebrows knotted together and he frowned. It made his already full lips look even poutier. He appeared to be at least twenty years younger, and his current reaction took off another five years. I wanted to giggle, but forced myself to contain it. That is, until he blushed, and seized from me my last ounce of self control.
I fell back against the pillows, my long hair spilling into my eyes as I thrashed about beneath the tangled sheets. But my childish behavior didn't last long. It came to a premature end the moment I felt the sheets being peeled away from my body like skin from an apple. Quickly I seized the comforter in my fist and sent Garland a desperate look, begging him with my eyes to leave well enough alone. At first he seemed confused, but then his face took on an expression of a child whose parent has just denied them ice-cream. He looked so sad that the tears I thought I'd finished crying returned, and this time with a vengeance. I must admit I expected him to flee, unable to deal with a wife who had done nothing but cry on and off for the better part of the hour. But he stayed exactly where he was, and then did something that only a possessor of his patience would perform.
Taking his hands, Garland ever so gently brushed back the hair that had fallen across my face. Even with my hair and makeup a mess, still he stared at me as if I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His kind smile silenced the self doubt that had been tearing around inside me like a ferocious beast for so many weeks now. Cupping my chin in his thumb and forefinger, he leaned down and kissed me upon the lips with such gentleness that I was overwhelmed. I was trembling so much beneath the blankets, desperate to reveal to him what I'd kept secret for so long, but too terrified to face the possible consequences.
Then I felt Garland's arms around me, his velvet-soft lips moving gently up and down my neck. It was one of the few parts of me that wasn't covered up, and I could feel the rest of my body beginning to throb for his attention. I opened my mouth to tell him to go ahead, to finish what I'd stopped him from doing before, that I had reached the end of making love in a room drowned in darkness.
But there was no need.
Garland had read my thoughts, or so it seemed. Already he had begun to lift away the top of the chest that concealed a long lost treasure waiting to be rediscovered. As he drew closer to his prize, my mind filled with memories of our wedding night. The same feelings that had filled me then came flooding back to me now. With nervousness and excitement surging through me with such inexorable force, my heart raced like a hunter's horse in pursuit of a fox…
I was sure I would faint from the sheer thrill of it all, before Garland had finished tugging down the last of the linens. This was the first time since Christopher's birth that Garland was seeing me in all my naked glory. And just like on our wedding night, my excitement took the form of goosebumps. Again my husband's eyes trailed over me, taking in every little detail of my body, as if I were a painting hanging on the wall of a museum that he never wanted to forget.
Heat plunged into my cheeks like flames engulfing a room, as Garland very carefully began to stroke my breasts. He was such an absent-minded individual and yet, when it came to me, I imagined he gave me more attention than most men gave their women. My breasts were so sore, and his hands were so loving and tender as he massaged them. I felt my discomfort drain away, and soon enough it had faded completely like a shadow in the darkness.
"Oh, Alicia," Garland said, the words coming out almost like a gasp. "Have you any idea just how unspeakably beautiful you look right now?"
When he sat there staring at me like that, administering such affectionate caresses to the most vulnerable part of my body, how could I tell him the truth? The truth behind my hysterical crying outbursts? The truth behind why I had been standing nearly naked before the mirror when he'd entered the room?
Taking up my hand from its place at my side, I shyly lay it across my abdomen to shield it from my husband's view. But my action wasn't quick enough to escape his gaze, and he reached over to pull my hand away.