AN: Again, Weez, my thanks, love. All mistakes are usual, the original characters are not mine and no profit is gained. The original song referred to is mine and copyrighted.
"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." - Lao Tzu
Unexpected Grace – Chapter Ten
Heartbreak had always been a possibility. But the reality of it was something altogether different.
Finding Miranda gone, Andy sat huddled in on herself, rocking, self-comforting. She stared blankly at the far wall as tears quietly ran down her face, absorbed into the sheet wrapped around her. Little by little the impact crept up on her, the first wavelets of a rising flood. The deluge built slowly as she stared at some nondescript point on the wall. Inevitably, the flood building within her let go, breaking through its containment. She lowered her face into her hands and sobbed brokenly. Turning on her side, she curled up in a fetal position, huddling at the end of the bed, burying her face in a pillow, dragging the duvet up around her, wanting to disappear.
The emotional pain took Andy's breath away. She had no words that matched the Miranda sized hole in her psyche and her heart. It felt like she'd stumbled out of some air lock directly into an arctic blizzard, naked and blinded by the snow swirling around her. Cold, so cold, I can't get warm…..She shivered, burrowing deeper, wrapping the duvet tighter around held on, trying to breathe through it.
Her mind circled and circled endlessly, searching for some logic, some answer that explained what she had just experienced. All she found were questions and confusion as she searched for some tiny crack that would let the light back in and help her understand. The physical memoires of their loving burned through her, leaving a physical ache from which she could not escape. The tears passed in wave after wave. She let them.
As the evening flowed into night, she finally slipped into a fitful sleep, only to be startled awake over and over through the night. Once, she found herself fuzzily awake as milky fingers of moonlight brushed over her, wrapping her in a pool of white. She looked up blearily at the lunar face shining in on her. Old tales whispered in her memory of those who slept in the moonlight becoming insane, losing their reason. Her fatigued mind whispered, I already am crazy …crazy in love and lost, so very lost… She watched quickly moving clouds crowd in, obscuring that luminous face. She eventually slipped back into sleep in the comforting darkness. Vague rumbles of thunder drew a whimper from her disturbed sleep.
She woke to rain. Raindrops streaked down the window as droplets made their slow way down the wavy glass. She rose and stripped the bed not wanting the memories those sheets held talking to her louder than they already were with the lingering scents and the ghost they held.
Andy had moved to some place deep inside herself, a detached, empty, fragile place. Calling her editor, she told him she needed another day or two off. He quickly agreed, hearing the flat, tremulous quality of her voice, so different from the bubbly Andy he knew.
She showered, letting hot water sluice off the tears, the sweat, the remains of their lovemaking. Watching the water circle and disappear down the drain, she wished it would take her despair as readily as her tears. Drying off, she felt a twinge as she passed over the mark on her neck, tracing a fingertip over it. She could not look in the mirror. It would fade, faster than her memories.
After dressing, she moved to the kitchen. Dumping the coffee sitting cold in its pot, she made some tea and forced herself to eat a few bites of day old croissant before throwing the rest out. She had no interest in food. The small amount she had eaten sat like a rock in her gut.
She needed some space to feel her way through everything that had happened. For now, she just wanted to be alone, to heal that raw wound. Before she came up for air and dealt with the world around her, she needed some time.
Listlessly, she sat down on the couch, placing her tea aside. Instantly, she saw herself in that exact same place with Miranda so few hours ago. She shook her head and wiped the tears that came. With them came an edge of anger, at herself, at Miranda, at the whole situation. The anger was quickly replaced by sorrow. Oh, Miranda…I tried so hard, so very hard….maybe too hard…I just wish this did not hurt so horribly…Gods, what do I do with all this pain? How do I go on from here?
She sat on the couch in the quiet of the room, her emotions circling, moving in and out of numb, tears coming and going. She slowly curled up and tried to escape again into sleep, halfway succeeding as she napped restlessly, curled toward the back of the couch. Edges of the dream came back to haunt her and she woke in tears, feeling the painful ending of the dream to be her true reality.
Sitting up, she shook her head, feeling completely overwhelmed. I've got to do something, find something to help myself through this. She grabbed her journal and a pen and stared at a blank page, unable to write a single word. Giving up, she reached for her guitar and started to play. If words could not touch this, perhaps music could.
She'd been playing for hours, at times lost and sitting with her arms wrapped around the guitar, her cheek resting on the upper curve, when she heard a quiet knock on the door. She set the instrument aside. Distractedly, she noticed a blister had formed under one callous, and opened and bled. Guitarists say a guitar was not truly yours until you bled and shed tears on the strings. She left both there, copper and salt.
There was a second louder knock and she moved to the door, looking through the peephole. It was Doug. Letting him in, she returned to the couch, sitting and staring straight ahead.
"Andy?" Doug entered, closing the door behind him, putting down the bag he had with him. "I've been calling you but you never answered. I was worried when I didn't hear from you. So….. I thought I would stop by after work and see how you were, how things went." He was met with silence.
Moving to the couch, he sat beside her. He started to put an arm around her only to hear a low, terse, "Don't...don't touch me…please…."
"Andy...? What…?" With alarm, he took in the rigid tension in her shoulders and the tremble in her hands. Her face was pale with empty pain-filled eyes.
"If you touch me, I'll …shatter. And I don't know that I'll ever be able to put all the pieces back together again."
"Oh, Andy, this is not good. What happened?" He restrained his natural instinct to offer physical shelter.
"I don't know…I don't know." She leaned forward, her elbow on one thigh, her forehead resting in her hand. "I don't understand…"
"Talk to me. Tell me ….." Doug kept his voice low and calm.
"I didn't know she was saying goodbye. She told me to never forget that she loved me and always would…..and then she left, snuck away." The words fell like disjointed pieces of a puzzle.
Doug slid his arm around her and pulled her close. Andy resisted, trying to pull away feebly until she collapsed into tears, leaning into him, her shoulders heaving. He held her close, rocking gently. "Let it go, I'm here. You're not going to fall into a million pieces and if you do, I'll help you put yourself back together, just like you've helped me way too many times."
He didn't know how long they sat. The tears quieted over time. He reached for some Kleenex and handed them over. A shaky hand took them and wiped eyes and nose.
Andy moved to sit up. "Sorry, didn't mean to ruin your shirt. I probably owe you one by now."
Doug pulled her back. "Stay. A tear-stained shirt doesn't matter. Tell me what happened."
Andy told him all of it, all the way until waking up with Miranda gone. "I'm so confused and so hurt. I don't know how to do this, Doug. I don't know what to feel, what to do. I don't want to feel all this and I can't make it stop."
"Andy, I'm so sorry. Maybe someday it will all make some kind of sense. It won't right now, babe. It's too soon. "
She sat up, scrubbing her face with her hands. "I hate this, hate feeling this way. Is there some kind of tourniquet for emotions? Breaking up with Nate was nothing compared to this…turmoil."
Doug laughed very softly, "None that works for very long or for which you don't pay a very heavy price in the long run. I've tried them all, believe me. Not worth it."
"Are you going to tell me that it gets better?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm still standing, aren't I? It takes time, lots of time. You have to go through it but you don't have to do it alone."
She was quiet for a moment, shredding a Kleenex into tiny pieces. "How do you quit loving somebody, Doug? It hurts too much loving this big."
"I'm not sure you ever do. You let go, just like I asked you to do if this happened. There is no magic formula. Don't ever be ashamed of loving deeply. It shows the depth of your heart and character, and the strength of your spirit. Never let anyone shame you for that. … And you, have you eaten? Taken care of yourself?"
"Not hungry, not one bit."
"Well, you're going to eat because I brought soup with me, just in case. I'm going to stay and watch you eat some of it."
Doug stood up and picked up the bag he had brought. "C'mon on Andy. I know you. You will quit eating and fade away to nothing. It's chicken noodle from the place a few blocks over."
Doug pulled the cartons out of the bag and grabbed two spoons. Andy reluctantly joined him, slowly stirring her soup. She took a sip or two and after her stomach did not rebel, ate about half the carton under his watchful eye.
Doug stood and put the leftovers in the fridge. "I gotta go, darlin', work tomorrow. Call me whenever you need to, come sleep on my couch, whatever you need, Andy. I'm here."
She hugged him tight, walking him to the door. "Thanks, Doug. What's wrong with the men in New York that one of them has not snarfed you up yet?"
He grinned and gave her a last hug. "I ask myself that question on a daily basis. Bye Andy."
As she closed the door, Andy realized she needed to call Nigel, and let him know what had happened. She reached for her phone. She had left it turned off all day. Nigel had left five messages. She sighed and called.
Miranda had stumbled up the stairs when she got home, dropping her coat and bag on a chair, clutching the leather clothes to her as she made her way to her bedroom. She headed to her closet and to a large lock box she kept buried deep in her closet. Almost mechanically, she carefully folded the clothes, placed them in the lock box and closed it, hearing the lock snick into place.
She walked to the bathroom and stripped, leaving the clothes in a pile on the floor. She ran a hot bath and slipped into the water. Washing methodically, hardly thinking, she erased all the traces of Andy from her body. Submerging completely, she hung suspended under the water in her deep tub, craving the quiet, hearing only her own heartbeat. She surfaced, gasping, hands rising to sluice water from her hair.
Barely thinking, she picked up the remote and hit play. Andy's song filled the room. She listened, "I'll stay the night over and live on through your days ….." and the tears came, the longing for that to be a truth in her life. Torn between desire and fear she sobbed until she was completely wrung out.
Enough, enough…I can't do this. She forced her feelings down, deep within, stuffing them into her internal lockbox along with all the tears that remained yet to be let loose. She rose from the tub and dried herself. Looking into the mirror, she stared at her own eyes, shuttered, dead of feelings, as she had desperately disassociated herself from the pain and buried it where it could not touch her. She raised her chin, watching the ice creep in those dead blue pools.
Turning off the lights, she slipped away to bed, not that she expected to sleep. Tomorrow she would call the girls' father and ask him to keep them for a few weeks. She did not want them to see her like this and upset them with her distanced behavior.
The atmosphere at Runway was glacial. The whole week had been rainy and cold. When it wasn't raining, low clouds hung, painting the sky gray. Cold winds cut through clothing, capturing scarves that flapped away like crazed, tropical birds. Garbage cans became the graveyards of inverted umbrellas. Occasional breaks of sun teased hopeful spirits, only to disappear in another bout of dismal weather.
At least, the transition plan was moving ahead smoothly. Interviews for their new CIO had been completed. They were in final negotiations with their top candidate, and she was expected to sign their offer today. Teams were ready to move into place to begin support for the transition to a digital Runway.
Everyone was polite but distant. Miranda moved between the usual arrogant demands on her staff and an almost complete withdrawal. The door to her office was rarely open. She hated knowing that her team had worked to help Andy with her scheme. It hadn't been hard to figure that out. It felt like the deepest betrayal. She worked hard to maintain a professional working relationship with them in the days that followed, never confronting the issue. The work went on.
Word had gotten around and the reactions varied from simple surprise to outright anger. Andy had been well liked. Nigel had let those immediately involved in on the sad news after having talked with Andy. Emily threw Miranda angry looks for the first two days before moving into a snappish, foul mood. Serena looked at her with pity… Nigel, with compassion and sorrow, shaking his head whenever he saw her.
Miranda could not stand it all. She hated having her private life hung out on a line for the world to see. She had always avoided it at work to the best of her ability. And somehow the press had gotten a hold of the story. Insinuating articles coupled with old pictures of her with Andy from the time she worked as her assistant had appeared. She found it more painful to see them together in the pictures than to be concerned about the content of the columns.
She took out her phone and found the picture she had taken days ago. Her eyes roamed over the sprawled, beauteous form the image had captured. She knew she should delete it but could not force herself to do so. She ran a finger over the small image and sighed, feeling tears stir behind her eyes. It was almost surprising that she had not worked a groove into the glass screen considering the number of times a day she touched that picture. Sighing, she set the phone aside on her desk.
At night, she barely slept, burrowing into her bed to wake over and over in a snarled nest of sheets. She stared at the walls and the ceiling, lying in bed and waiting for morning. If she did actually fall asleep, she awoke from a terrible dream that repeated over and over. In it, she watched in horror as a tunic clad Andy tumbled from a high cliff to drown in an unforgiving ocean, the balustrade they had leaning on looking over the ocean, giving away. Miranda felt her fingers slipping through hers as she tried to grab her and pull her back. But she was always too late. In the dream, she screamed her name, almost going over the edge after her, falling to her knees on the very edge. She woke, heart bounding, her voice hoarse and ragged, gasping for breath. That internal lockbox was slowly leaking.
Twelve days after Nigel's party on a Thursday, it started. First, it was Serena. She had lingered after a run through before a photo shoot and asked Miranda for a moment of her time. Miranda sat behind her desk while Serena took the seat in front of her.
"Serena, what can I do for you? Is this about the run through?" She coolly looked over the woman across from her.
"Yes…and no. We are ready to create the look we want in the next issues. But …this is personal. I know you won't appreciate it but I have to say this. There is only so much that makeup can cover, Miranda. The amount of pain in your eyes seeps through. The shadows under your eyes tell me that you are not sleeping. This is getting worse as the days pass. Miranda…you can't go on like this."
Miranda had gone rigid, her eyes darting, angry and afraid. No one said such things to her. "Serena…"
She was rapidly interrupted, "Let me finish. She's a wonderful woman, Miranda and obviously loves you deeply. There is something special between you two. I don't know what happened. But I saw a different person in you that night. I hope that… that woman, you…. will give this a chance."
Miranda just stared at her.
Serena stood, "I know that I've overstepped boundaries here and you could easily fire me for this. I hope you don't. It's an honor to work with you….and that's why I'm doing this." She looked back, compassion in her eyes, "Take the chance, Miranda." The door closed behind her.
Miranda stared at the door. This could not be happening, her staff confronting her about her personal life. She could function if she could walk through the halls, distant and aloof. But not this. Pity, compassion, were not part of her professional vocabulary. No, this will not do at all. She squared her shoulders. She'd have to pull it together. Redefine those boundaries. Fire some people. This was not acceptable.
A small voice challenged from deep inside her. Is this who you want to continue to be? I thought we were going for the softer, more open Miranda. Will you sacrifice her to your sorrow and fear as well? She shook her head, caught in the turmoil between those conflicting selves. Sighing, she escaped back to her work.
An hour later, it was Emily. She knocked and flung open the door, almost slamming it closed behind her. She stopped in front of Miranda's desk, hands on her hips and glared.
Miranda sighed tiredly, "Yes, Emily? Have you come to berate me as well?"
"As well? I don't know who else has said something to you, nor do I care. I have sat on this for days. I have only one question. Are you bloody crazy? Tell me, Miranda because I don't understand."
Miranda stared at the angry redhead in front of her. Thinking to herself, Yes, I just might be or will be soon.
Met with silence, Emily continued, in exasperation, "You must be if you can walk away from that woman. Why, Miranda? Why? Whatever it is, fix it. This is just not right."
Her eyes narrowing, Miranda spat out, "I don't owe you or anyone else here any kind of explanation. How dare you?"
Emily leaned forward, planting her hands on the desk, leaning in, her eyes hard on Miranda's. "How dare I? That's almost laughable. Don't you understand, Miranda? I give a damn about you. We all damn well do. This is destroying you. We can all see it. You have to fix it. Whatever it is, just fix it."
Miranda had leaned far back in her chair, shying away from that direct confrontation. She watched Emily pivot on her heels and stride out. Waves of anxiety began to roll through her, taking her breath away. Am I that transparent? She stared at the closed door.
Last but not least was Nigel. It was late at night and everyone else had left. Nigel has called and asked her to join him in the Closet. He needed her opinion on something. Miranda made her way down the hall.
They had spent many long hours together in this space, coordinating the fashions and styles that made Runway what it was. It was a space that had always felt safe and comfortable to Miranda. Today it did not.
When she entered, Nigel had a number of clothing combinations laid out for her. He gestured at the clothes displayed for her perusal. "I'm thinking about what we need to do to deal with the changes we face in losing the resolution of print on high gloss paper compared to monitor screens, or laptops, or heaven forbid, smart phones. We may need to go for some bolder styles and colors at first, while we work through that. What do you think of these?"
Miranda breathed a sigh of relief as they moved into their typical exchange of ideas. This she knew. This she could do. "I think most of these would work beautifully. I'd watch the yellow. It tends to bleed out to orange." Her fingers stroked the cloth. "I'm afraid of losing the sense of texture in online photos."
"I agree, it's a shame and we'll have to find ways to work around that."
He took a deep breath and started almost nonchalantly. "Miranda …do you remember when I began working here?" He gathered clothes from the table, putting them back on hangers.
"Yes, of course. I remember. We were both so much younger. Things have certainly changed over the years but you've always been here with me, Nigel."
"Yes, and I am now, especially now. Do you remember the funeral you came to in the second year that I was here?" He quietly placed the clothes, now on their hangers, back on the rack at the side.
Oh Gods, he never talks about this. Ever. "Yes, I remember." She shuddered.
"Whose funeral was it, Miranda?" He turned and faced her directly.
"It was Paul's, your partner." Her eyes searched his darker ones, puzzled by the distant tone of his voice and wondering why he had brought this up.
"Yes, it was Paul's funeral. Paul, the love of my life. I watched him die of AIDS. Slowly, so slowly. I watched every excruciating day until he finally passed, grateful and guilty that he was gone and no longer in pain. Those were the hardest days of my life." His eyes held hers, demanding her attention.
"Yes, I remember, Nigel. You were devastated." She shifted uneasily, uncertain about where this was going.
"Yes, I was devastated, beyond devastated…and you and everyone here, helped me, helped me recover from the loss. You gave me some
framework of normal to focus on as I learned to live without him. I missed him every day. I still do and probably always will."
She tentatively reached out a hand, resting it on his arm. He looked down at that hand. This woman did not touch anyone, rarely if ever. His eyes narrowed.
"I'm not looking for your sympathy, Miranda. Do you know what I would do to have him back in my life? To have that kind of love again?" Her hand dropped away and she stepped back from the intensity of the sorrow and the anger in his eyes as they lifted to hers.
His voice softened and he stepped forward, taking her hand. "I would do anything. Do you understand that Miranda? Anything."
"Yes, I think I might." The picture of Andy filled her mind. She fought the edge of panic that quickly followed, willing herself to hold that vision in her mind.
"Do you? Do you really? You have a chance for exactly that kind of love and what are you doing? You are running from it. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would still choose him, knowing the cost."
Miranda gasped, as his words hit her hard, hearing the echo of Andy's words. ... If you think that I would give up a single minute of being with you for a promise of years, of a forever? I'm not that shallow…..
"How dare you? How…dare….you…reject such a gift?" He spat out the words, tightening his grip on her hand, almost bruising.
"Do you know she has called me every day to ask how you are? Even though this is tearing her apart? I've had to tell her that I can't hurt her with that conversation any longer. I just can't watch her heart bleed out…or yours, no matter what icy cavern you try to bury it in. And that's exactly what you're doing, Miranda."
Miranda flinched and struggled to pull her hand out of Nigel's, her vision starting to tunnel, the fear winning. His grip gentled, but not enough so that she could pull her hand free.
He led her to the couch beside the table. "Breathe Miranda. This is not about Andy, this is about you. No, I'm not letting go. You need to tell me what's going on."
"I don't know what to tell you, Nigel. I'm waiting…" Her eyes flitted away, looking for an escape.
He interrupted her. "Then let me tell you what I see. I see the brilliant, extraordinary, courageous, driven Miranda Priestly brought to her knees by fear and panic, the fear of loving someone and being loved in return. If you don't do something about this, you're not the woman I've always known you to be. You're waiting...what are you waiting for?"
"I do love her, Nigel. I can't…"
He interjected, "Bullshit, Miranda. Love is a verb not just a state of being. It's something you do, not just feel."
She bowed her head, taking shallow breaths, trying to hold down the anxiety roiling within her. She wiped her eyes not willing to let tears fall. She was scarily quiet, so still in her grief and fear and the shock from his words. Nigel waited, listening to her silence.
Her hand tightened painfully on his, unnoticed "I am …terrified. I don't think I would survive what you have gone through. I can't imagine it. I know she will leave me, everyone does….everyone. I panic, I have to get away, to not feel that loss ever again…ever…"
"We all have dragons living inside us, Miranda, and they'll eat us up from the inside if we let them. Some send us screaming into the night. Sound likes you have a very hungry one. Talk to someone and talk to Andy. Do it soon. You deserve to be happy, to be loved. Please, Miranda…"
She relaxed her grip and looked up into eyes, seeing the care and concern there, "I'll try, Nigel."
He nodded. "Now, let me tell you about a man named Paul….."
Late that night, Andy got a call from Nigel. He'd been calling every night to see how she was doing, how her day had been.
She'd gone back to work on the third day, still hardly eating, barely sleeping. She'd promised Doug she'd let go of this as she could. She got off at a further subway station. It was a longer walk but it did not take her by the Elias-Clarke building. But she kept seeing silver haired women everywhere she went and it made her heart miss a beat every time.
Her editor was glad to have her back. Her coworkers were welcoming but concerned by the dark circles and occasional redness to her eyes, and by the disappearance of the effervescent, smiling woman they had known. The replacement was somber, almost robotic, spoke rarely and quietly when she did. She'd lost a few pounds and her clothes were loose. Her paleness was perpetual and her eyes had lost their sparkle. People tried to get her to go out for drinks after work or to join them for lunch. She declined every offer.
Andy concentrated on work, cranking out the syllables and the word count for the articles she was assigned. It helped to have something to do, to occupy herself with some kind of focus. She went home to her haven every night and hid herself away, writing in her journal, playing music, reading. When it was really bad, she took long walks in the city, once stopping to crash on Doug's sofa.
She made it to band practice and it was the highlight of her week. They had contracted with management and had a number of gigs lined up. They were working up two of her original songs. Somehow, it did not frighten her any longer to put her work out there. Trial by fire had stripped her of that little anxiety. They added her guitar into the songs and the mix only got better. The next gig was coming up in the next days. Music was a place she could always let herself be in the moment. She poured all her emotions into the songs.
Doug came by as the days progressed and took her out to eat; buying groceries on the way home when he found her fridge empty. He nagged, begged and threatened her. She just didn't care enough to bother to eat but she tried.
Was it getting better? She didn't cry all the time, and more time stretched between those occasions. Doug kept reminding her that it would take time. When she asked again about how long it would be and he'd shrug and say, "As long as it takes, Andy, that long."
The dream was back in many variations. Last night, she had drifted away from the marble temple over the cliff, moving further and further away, watching it recede. She did not fight it. She sat in the boat, letting the tide pull her out to sea. Slowly, the lights faded and disappeared as she drifted away in the darkness, leaving only starlight wheeling above her. She woke in quiet tears every morning.
When Nigel called, she had been journaling. It was a relief to finally be able to put pen to paper again. She'd struggled for days trying to write. It was another place to pour out her feelings.
She had been mulling over what had happened with Miranda. I pushed too hard, too fast. I tried to convince her that everything would be fine. I don't think I listened well. She tried to tell me but I did not hear her, didn't want to hear her. I kissed her…but she kissed me back. I made love to her…..we made love to each other. She was so…there….with me. I just don't get it.
She'd put down her journal and answered. "Hello Nigel, it's late, I wasn't expecting to hear from you."
"Just working late tonight, Andy. How was your day?"
"I survived another one. How are you, Nigel?" She could hear strain in his voice and it concerned her.
He sighed tiredly. "It's been a very long day. A challenging one, but I hope with positive results."
"I hope that is good, Nigel? You sound tired."
"I'm fine, truly. How are you really doing, Andy?"
"You know I can't stop thinking about all this. I know you told me to stop asking you how she is, that you won't tell me anymore. But I can't stop worrying. I think I pressured her too fast, too hard or I scared her with the intensity of all those feelings. I don't understand. It hurts, hurts so deeply."
"Andy, you said she left you. What if she didn't leave… you…? What if you're not the problem?"
She was quiet for a few seconds. "I don't understand."
"I thought you said that she told you she was trying to be honest with you? Yes?"
"Yes, that's what she said and I thought it was what she was really trying to do."
"Do you think she was? Do you think she told you everything?"
"I thought so…but…" Her mind slipped back to the conversation. "Wait…I asked her if there was anything else, if she had any other reasons we could not be together. There was a moment when she looked away and did not respond."
"So, what if there was something she could not share? What if she did not actually leave…. you…but ran for her own reasons?"
She listened with trepidation. "What are you telling me, Nigel? Is she sick? Is there something wrong?"
"She's fine physically, as far as I know. But I can't stand to hear you beating yourself up over something that might not be because of you."
"I'm not sure that I understand what you're trying to say." Her head was spinning from this conversation. "Are you telling me this was not my fault?"
"I'm not telling you anything, Andy. But rarely in relationships is anything just one person's fault. Don't do that to yourself."
"But she left me! Left me without a note, an explanation, a phone call, anything! How fucked up is that?" Her voice was raw with the pain.
"Yes she did."
"Why?" Nigel heard her anguish in that question.
"Why indeed? Maybe that's the question you need to answer, Andy. Was there anything else she said or did that night? Anything unusual?"
Andy thought back. She'd been too lost in some of the moments to think too clearly. Distractedly, she said, "She called me her selkie."
"What? She called you her what?"
"Her selkie, she called me her selkie. She talked about some myth where magical seal-like beings come to land. She told me that if you found their skin you could keep them with you."
"I know that legend. There's a piece missing if that's all she told you. The only reason someone wants to keep the skin of a selkie is because they love them and don't want them to leave and return to the sea."
"Oh …fuck me, Nigel. I think…I haven't see those clothes since that day….I'm almost sure she took the leather vest and pants with her. Where else would they be? I haven't exactly been doing a lot of laundry and my place is a mess. I thought I had just kicked them under the bed or something. The jacket is hanging in my closet. Just a minute…" She quickly moved into the bedroom and peeked under the bed. Besides a lone sock, there was nothing. "Yes, she must have taken them. Why would she do that?"
"Andy, she took your …er, skin…that's exactly what she did….but she's missing a piece, the jacket." He thought to himself. She's testing you and doesn't even realize it herself. No wonder she had said she was waiting. She never said what she was waiting for. I don't think she even knows."
"Too many whys, Nige. I'm even more confused, thoroughly worn out, my heart hurts trying to talk about her and I can't think straight anymore tonight."
"Come back to that why when you can. I think you need to see her and talk with her."
"Why don't I just walk to up her, hand her a knife, bare my chest, and let her hack out my heart?" she said sarcastically. "It might be less painful. Why would I want to put myself through that again? I'm only barely getting to the point of not crying every other minute."
"Is it finished, Andy? If you can't say yes, it's not over. Andy, go to bed, let it be, think about it tomorrow, feel about it and do what you need to do. Ok?"
"Well, ok. I'll try. Hey, Nigel? We're playing tomorrow night. I won't be home until super late. Come by and hear us play, if you want to. It would be good to see you. Sleep well….and thanks, I think."
"Good night Andy, try to sleep"
It was past midnight. Andy sat for a minute. Too tired to think anymore and too emotionally exhausted to explore that haunting why, she headed to bed, hoping to really sleep.
It was close to 11:30 and they were getting ready to wrap up their second set. The bar was known for the performers the owner brought in. It was filled this Friday night with a respectful, mostly listening crowd. They'd gotten warm applause that grew as the night went on. Their friends sat a table off to the side, listening and supporting.
A figure in a shadowed corner in the back reached for her glass and took a nervous sip. She blended into the crowd in her black cowl necked sweater and crisp denim jeans. Unobtrusive and quiet, she drew no attention.
Miranda had followed up on Nigel's suggestions and was here to find a way to approach Andy. She had overheard Nigel and Emily deciding to meet at the bar around 9:00 for drinks and to go support the band. Nigel had invited a small group of friends to meet them there.
Following her instincts, she showed up around 9:30 and found a place in the back by herself. Nursing a glass of wine, she listened and watched, drinking Andy in, waiting for an opportunity and taking advantage of it when it came.
Andy had just started to introduce their last song when a voice from the back spoke up, "Play Unexpected Grace." There was a spattering of applause from the few that had heard it almost two weeks ago. Andy paled and cringed internally, "We're letting that one rest for a while, thanks though." Yeah, like forever. I don't think I'll ever be able to sing it again.
"Please….." Andy was startled. The voice was closer. It was a woman's voice though it was hard to hear with the background voices. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the stage lights, trying to see. She made out the silhouette of a figure approaching the edge of the pool of light pouring off the stage.
The silhouette resolved as she stepped closer and now she recognized the voice. Oh gods, it's Miranda. How can she be here? She watched her step up to the edge of the stage looking up at her.
"Please, Andréa. Sing it …." Her voice was pitched so low that only Andy could hear her words.
Andy stared at her. Her eyes flitted to Nigel at the side table. He nodded. She covered the microphone with her hand, looked down and whispered, "Miranda, I don't know if I can sing…. that. What are you doing here?"
"For you, I'm here for you. And yes, you can. I'm asking this of you. I'm right here…listening…"
She stared at her, taking in Miranda's raised face, seeing the resolution in her eyes.
Deciding, she turned to Michael and Doug. Doug quickly asked, "Andy. Are you ok? Do you really want to do this?"
"Yeah, one last time." She took a shaky breath, turned back to the microphone. She glanced down at Miranda and looked around the room. "Thanks to you all for coming tonight. We're going to finish with one of my own, by special request."
She played the delicate notes of the introduction, her hands shaking, finally settling as she closed her eyes and found the familiar progression of chords and notes. She opened them expecting to find Miranda had moved away, sitting somewhere else but she was right there, looking up at her.
She sang to the room, to Miranda, getting through it verse by verse. By the time she reached the last, her voice was edged with tears, rough and breathy. "So, throw your heart open, walk into the world. Love may be waiting in mysterious ways. I'll stay the nights over and live on through your days, with unexpected grace." She couldn't finish the last two repeats of the final words. Her throat had closed swallowing tears. She dropped her head as she finished the ending, letting dark hair curtain her face.
The applause rolled over them. Miranda reached up and tugged her down, forcing her to partly kneel. She leaned forward and kissed her softly, turning it into a hug, her mouth by Andy's ear. "Thank you. I love you, Andréa." She kissed her cheek and stepped back, her hand moving to cradle that same cheek.
"Come with me, please, to my home." She waited, searching Andy's eyes, giving her time to make her decision.
Andy stared at her, her eyes shadowed, thinking. Guess I'm going to hand her that knife. She turned her face into the palm resting so softly against her skin and left a whisper of a kiss against the lifeline, wistfully wishing her name lay somewhere on that line.
"I'll get my things and join you." Questioning, solemn eyes searched blue ones. "Just a minute."
"I'll be right here." Miranda breathed a sigh of relief, releasing some of the tension she was holding.
Andy turned, reaching for the case for her guitar. Doug looked at her with concern. "Is this a good idea?"
"I don't know but I'm going to find out. At least, I can ask for some answers to my questions. I'll let you know." She closed up the case and reached for her jacket and the bag she had brought with her.
Miranda had made her way to Nigel, Emily and Serena through the dispersing crowd. Emily and Serena were putting on coats, about to leave. They watched her approach warily, exchanging glances. Lifting her chin, she paused, looking at each of them.
"Thank you. Thanks to each of you for having the courage to try and talk to me and for caring enough. I'm not used to having ...well, friends. Have patience with me while I learn how to do this, please."
Surprised, Serena leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad." Emily followed. "Me too. And we've got to go. It's late. See you all later."
That left Nigel. "Thank you, Nigel, for everything. I heard you." He nodded. She felt Andy come up beside her and hooked her hand through the crook of her arm.
"I'll call you, Nigel…soon." They made their way out into the night air where Roy waited.
Later, after packing the instruments and equipment away, Doug spotted Nigel sitting alone at the bar. He walked up and put an arm across his back, patting his shoulder. "Thank you. I think you had something to do with this. I don't know what but…. I hope they work something out."
"I think they will. I hope they will. The work of a fairy godfather is never done, though it may be time to hang up those wings."
Doug looked at him quizzically. "I'm not sure I got that last part? But I'm sure if you're wearing some kind of wings, they are most likely Armani." He smiled. "And I never thanked you for the clothes. They were beautiful, delicious! You've got some magic there, Nigel, wings or not."
"They looked good on you. You'll set the bar for sophisticated fashion for bass players. There might be a spread in the new Runway for that, The Men of Music." He stopped abruptly. "Gads, I'm becoming the new Miranda, fashion on the brain 24/7. Forgive me."
He hesitated, "How about a drink, Doug? We could sit and talk, get to know each other a little more."
Doug's smile lit up. "It would be absolutely my pleasure, Nigel." He signaled the bartender. "What are you drinking?"
Roy was waiting at the curb. Greeting Andy with a smile, he stored her guitar and bag in the trunk and opened the door, handing her into the car to join Miranda. They sat apart, quietly, as the car pulled away from the curb. Miranda carefully put her hand palm up on the seat and waited. Andy glanced down then carefully twined her fingers with Miranda's, holding lightly.
She looked out the window, blinking to clear her eyes of tears. Never thought I would be here again. Leaning her forehead against the cool glass, she closed her eyes, letting the tears run silently down her face, unaware that her fingers clenched. A watery inhale gave her away.
She felt Miranda turn to her with concern. "Andréa?" She turned her face to look at Miranda.
Miranda looked at the woman before her. She took in the loose fitting clothes; the dark hurt-filled shadows under tear dampened eyes. Miranda's fingers brushed wet from prominent cheekbones. Gods, what have I done to her?
"You broke my heart, Miranda." She answered as though the question had been asked aloud.
"I know, Andréa. I know….."
Her arm went around Andy's shoulders pulling her close. Andy let herself be pulled in, her head going to Miranda's chest, tucking under her chin. She sighed as her cheek rested against soft cashmere, the gentle swell of breast and breathed in familiar perfume. Closing her eyes, she felt butterfly kisses land on her forehead, as soft lips rested against her skin. Her hand tentatively settled on Miranda's thigh.
Within minutes, they arrived and made their way into Miranda's townhouse. Once coats had disappeared, they stood, facing each other. Miranda reached out a hand. "Andréa…."
Andy stepped back, skittishly, "Why were you there tonight, Miranda?"
"I came to get you. I couldn't wait any longer…"
"I was coming here tonight …planned to after the set. I needed to give you something that you left at my apartment…and to ask some questions, if you agreed to talk with me. Don't worry, I have no expectations. You chose very clearly."
Puzzled, Miranda watched her pull a bundle from the bag she had brought.
"You called me your selkie and then you took my…my skin…when you left. " She frowned nervously. "I'm not sure if the rest is buried somewhere in your backyard, hidden away where I'll never find them. I hope not and I am not going to start digging in the shrubbery." She very carefully handed her the bundled blue-black leather jacket, part of the outfit she had worn that night. "This is yours, just like my heart, my ridiculous heart. Keep them, for whatever reason these have meaning for you."
Miranda's eyes widened as she realized what Andy was holding. A click of some unstated completion washed through her. Unknowingly, this was what she had been waiting for. She had returned to her. "You astonish me, Andréa. This means so much to me. I need them for now." She took the jacket and tenderly folded it, bringing it up to her chest, cradling the garment. "I'll put this with the rest upstairs." She stepped closer to run fingers through dark tresses, saying softly, "Thank you."
Andy impatiently dragged her hand from her hair, dropping it. "I'm not sure I understand all this, any of it. The clothes?" Her words came faster driven by her confusion and heartache. "Why would you tell me that you love me and just vanish? You made love with me and ….bolted. Why? That is so fucked up. You have to tell me why. Or I…." She shook her head, looking away, as her voice trailed away and she eyed the door.
"I understand and I will, I promise I will…and for now, come with me." She stepped on the first step and held out a hand, waiting for Andy's to couple with hers.
Andy looked at the waiting hand, hesitating. She watched Miranda's hand stretch forward and her arm extend further to her. With a sigh of apprehensive consent, her arm drifted up and her fingers joined those waiting for hers.
Miranda drew her slowly up the stairs and into her bedroom. She sat Andy on the bed and kneeling, slipped off her shoes. "I'm starting a bath for us. I'll be right back." She disappeared for a moment. Andy, worn out and moving toward numb, gazed around the soft feminine comfort of the room, taking it in, as the faint sound of running water came to her. Miranda appeared in front of her, tugging her up and into a candle-lit bathroom. She felt nimble fingers undoing buttons and zippers as she was efficiently stripped of her clothes and handed into the deep tub. Second later, she felt an equally naked body settle behind her, arms wrapping around her and pulling her back.
Miranda kissed her cheek and reached for a soft loofah and liquid soap. She gently began to wash the tense body in front of her, almost ritually, wishing she could strip all the hurt away. Andy slowly, so slowly, relaxed into her care. Miranda rinsed as she went, sluicing water over soapy skin, her hands soothing lovingly, letting them speak for her. When finished, she leaned back, settling them both deeper in the tub. Her hand was lifted from where it lay around Andy's waist and brought to a warm mouth, kissed and held there, soft breath bathing the skin.
"Bed now, we'll talk in the morning." Towels were left draped on the edge of a draining tub as Miranda slipped Andy into her bed and slid in, curling up behind her, holding her close. Her hand was captured and held with a whispered, "G'night."
"Goodnight, beloved one." Miranda did not expect to sleep. Gratitude for the presence of the woman in her arms filled her. She felt herself relax into the warmth in her arms, breathing in synch with Andy.
Hours later she was startled out of a light sleep by a noise and agitated movement. Hearing Andy whimper in her sleep, her arms tightened around her. Muttered words came to her, "M'ran….no…please, no….."
"Andréa, wake up, you're safe. I'm right here." She shook her shoulder carefully.
Andy startled awake and half-sat up, sucking in a gasping breath and falling back to the bed. Andy turned, facing Miranda and huddling close. "Nightmare, these nightmares, every night. Falling,..always falling into the coldest deepest water, so deep. You were there, reaching for me…couldn't reach the surface, the light…"
Miranda felt a chill run through her. It was the other half of the dream that had been haunting her. "Hush, darling. You're safe and I'm right here." She held on, gently rocking, feeling the body in her arms slowly relax, settling into her and sliding back into sleep. She watched the dark of the room slowly recede with the light filtering through the curtains with the dawn, her thoughts troubled.
Andy woke to the quiet of a room lit by gentle stands of sunlight sneaking around the edges of the almost closed curtains. Alone. For a second, she flashed back to that last morning and fear caught her. She sat up searching the room with her eyes. The door opened with the chatter of china and she watched Miranda enter with a tray. Miranda's eyes widened as she saw Andy's obvious distress. "Andréa? What is it?"
Andy exhaled sharply, her hands coming up to cover her face, before dropping down to the blanket as she fell back against the pillows. "I was so totally out of it. I thought you were gone….again."
Miranda quickly put down the tray and sat on the bed at her side. She tucked strands of hair behind Andy's ears as Andy pulled the sheet up over her breasts, feeling vulnerable and exposed with the morning light.
"I'm right here, Andréa. With you, as I choose to be. I went downstairs to bring up some coffee, something to eat." She stood and brought the tray to the bed, pouring them both a cup of coffee, uncovering toast, butter and jam.
"We're going to talk but I need to see you eat something. You're much too thin and it worries me." Miranda buttered a piece of toast, spreading jam over it, lifting it to Andy's mouth. "Eat this."
Andy took the toast from Miranda with exasperation. "You're worse than Doug." She took a tentative bite. They ate and drank in quiet companionship before Miranda set the tray on the floor.
She moved to the other side of the bed, slid her silk robe off, laying it on the bottom of the bed and slid beneath the covers. Andy watched her with wide eyes, surprised. "What are you doing?"
Miranda plumped some pillows behind her, pulled the sheet higher and turned partly on her side.
"This is the talking part. Equally naked." She reached over and took Andy's hand.
Andy looked at their hands. "Miranda, I don't know what to say to you. I need to understand what happened." Her yes lifted to Miranda's. "Tell me, please. Why? If I did something wrong, I'm sorry."
"No, please, no, Andréa. This is all mine. All of it. You did nothing wrong, never think that you did. I do so love you. I told you to never doubt that and then I sprinted away. I hurt you deeply and I'm so ashamed of that. I'm do my best to explain what I know to you."
"I'm listening." Andy settled back, turning more toward Miranda.
"I have all this fear, this terror that grabs me by the throat. I panic and I run." An edge of fear caught her as she started to explain and her hand tightened on Andy's.
"What are you so afraid of, Miranda?"
"Everyone leaves me, disappears sooner or later. All of them left. It always ends badly. I'm hated and vilified. I feel totally unlovable. Gods, this sounds so pitiful." She felt Andy start to pull her hand away. "No, don't please. It's not you. It's me, totally me. I'm…..broken in some places. Abusive, accusing words, hateful actions and I absorbed it all, twisted it inside me. I get overcome with this dark cloud that comes over me. I disappear and there is just this …terror …this panic that takes me over. My mind gets filled with this empty logic that circles and circles. It drives me to get away, to run. And I did. I ran from you. I kept telling myself you deserved someone better than me, that I was doing the right thing. I convinced myself that you would leave me."
Andy listened, hearing the honesty and the rawness of Miranda's words. She remembered Nigel's questions challenging her about her responsibility in this. She squeezed Miranda's hand. "I believe that, believe you. Tell me how you're able to share this now."
"Because I love you. Because I want your love in my life. Because I deserve better from myself and so does everyone around me, you, my girls, anyone that could care for me." Her eyes pleaded for understanding.
Andy turned completely on her side to face Miranda, compassion winning. "And?"
"Nigel confronted me, tore into me, rightfully so. He forced me to look at this before I hurt myself anymore from the pain of wanting you and losing you." Her eyes filled with tears. "I've already caused enough pain with my unspeakable behavior, something I will l always regret and never forget."
Andy shifted to sit up higher against the pillows, sliding closer and lifting an arm around the smaller woman. "Here, Miranda." She felt the shift of weight as Miranda laid her head carefully against her shoulder. Her hand came up to Andy's opposite shoulder, clenching in the sheets.
"You need to know, I called someone yesterday morning, a specialist. I hated doing that but I had to. She worked me in as an emergency and we talked for two hours. She listened and was very clear, blunt actually, about what happens from here. I'm going to see her regularly. I filled a prescription she gave me for times when it gets bad. I don't want to need pills or use them. I have hope that I can learn to deal with this."
"Andréa, I'm running on pure guts right now, skirting the edge of panic. But I'm not running from this, from you, from my life ever again. I'm under no illusions that this will be easy."
She lifted her head and searched Andy's eyes, questioning, "I feel like I have no right to ask but I hope you can give me a chance. I'm not asking you to save me. This is mine to do. But you told me you wanted my strength shining next to yours. I want that as well." Her head fell to Andy's chest. "Please."
Andy wrapped her arms around her and rolled them over, her eyes lasering into Miranda's. "You never lost that chance. I love you, that hasn't changed. I want you whole and happy whether I'm in your life or not. And yes, I want to be part of that. But I'm no white knight charging in to save you from yourself. This is yours to do. All I can do is love you, remind you that you are loved. Yes?"
She watched Miranda's eyes fill as she nodded and leaned forward, kissing her softly. "I give you my willingness to love you every day, every single day and I ask you for the same. Can you give me that?"
"Yes, with all my heart. You love with such wondrous abundance and with such grace. You humble me, Andréa. Can you ever forgive me?"
"Miranda, you came to me. And now, you've shared this. I can see how hard that was to do. It makes all the difference. There's nothing to forgive. You didn't try to create this mess and you're doing something about it… There is one thing I will ask from you."
"What is it? Anything…..
"Soon, find a word that you can use anytime you start to panic so I know what's going on. And…you need to tell me what I can do as you learn what you need. You have to talk to me. If you can't do that, I'm gone. As much as I love you, I won't do this again, not like this. "
They twined together in a tight tangle of limbs, holding each other tightly. Miranda spoke softly, her mouth close to Andy's ear. "Yes, I can do that and I understand. I'll find a word." Her hands tightened around Andy's back. "I was so afraid that you were through with me."
Andy pulled back to look at her, "I'm far from being done with you." Long fingers caressed up Miranda's back. "Worst two weeks of my life, bar none. I'm still ouchy and bruised. I think you need to kiss and make it better." She pointed to her chest just over her heart. "Right here."
Miranda's hand covered that same spot. "Right here?" She lowered her lips and softly kissed, letting her lips linger before laying her cheek over that spot, in the valley between Andy's breasts. "I would build a home here, right here if I could. Anywhere else?"
Andy cupped the breast closest to Miranda's mouth, offering. "Uh-huh, here." Velvety lips planted a kiss followed by the lick of a warm tongue. Miranda's hand flowed up Andy's body to her other breast evoking a goose-bumped shiver. She lifted her head to the breast filling her hand. "Here too?" Not waiting for an answer, she repeated her loving ministrations, hearing the hissed yes, feeling the arch of Andy's back, as she did.
The caress of fingertips on her cheek brought her eyes up to meet Andy's. Her own lips were traced as Andy answered, "Everywhere." She was pulled up into a kiss that left her gasping for air.
Miranda flowed over her. "Everywhere, I can do everywhere."
The air caught fire between them as Miranda defined everywhere, bathing Andy in a radiance of attention. Lips and teeth grazed over long limbs, tongue teasing the web of fingers, the pulse point of wrists and forearm, the hollow of a throat, the fragility of eyelids, all the hidden places. She found that place on Andy's neck that sent her moaning, her head dropping back, as blood rose to the pressure of a hungry mouth. Tongues tangled, sliding deep.
Legs parted to invite a firm thigh between them, gliding as a liquid path was shared between them. Brazen blue eyes lifted to browns heavy with longing as a hand slid between them through dark curls, slipping through silken folds. The frenzied circling of Andy's hips answered Miranda's touch. Her mouth covered a breast, teeth holding a peaked bud, as her tongue flicked rapidly. Andy's hands buried in her hair, drawing her closer. She circled the dark rose of the other nipple, sucking and teething, the hands in her hair clenching. The rise of hips begged for entry as fluid coated questing fingers explored. Andy writhed beneath her, moaning her need, as waves poured through her, like chocolate melting in the noon day sun, viscous and hot, flowing out from her center. Kisses brushed over Andy's sides, a tongue tracing each rib, flowing over high pelvic bones, circling the navel, darting through dark curls. Miranda's mouth rose to beg another kiss.
Andy murmured against her lips. "Crave your mouth, your fingers inside me, taking me….want you ….please…so ready…" Miranda's tongue captured those words, as two fingers slid inside, following the rhythm of thrusting hips, her thumb flicking, circling Andy's swollen clit. She felt the quick rise of an orgasmic wave as walls rippled and grabbed at her fingers and Andy extended in a high arch, hands clenching on Miranda's back. She kissed that generous mouth and continued down the long line of Andy's body, settling between her thighs as her fingers continue to gently circle.
"Miranda, I don't know if I can come…Gods….again…" Andy lost breath as a tongue delicately traced lips barely glancing over a sensitive clit. Miranda's tongue gently teased and enticed, pulling at that liquid tide she felt growing. Her mouth surrounded and consumed, the fingers already so deep, slowly rolling, building a rhythmic pulse, driving her on. She felt and heard Andy, moan." M'ran, please…"
Hips lifted as she shifted an arm around them, anchoring to the writhing body she had captured. Slowly pulling away, feeling walls grab, she slid a third finger in with the others and pushed deep, her mouth finding a matching rhythm of entry and retreat, begging pleasure from the body below her. Andy came with a deep groan, hips thrusting up to Miranda's mouth, walls pulsing in rapid waves. She took everything, licking and sucking, caressing every ripple, every final wave, until Andy's shaking hands feebly begged for release. She raised, the liquid glint of her lips finding Andy's lips, gently kissing, in-gathering a still shuddering body into her arms.
"M'ran, you send me flying, some kind of falling star…..." She felt Andy's breathe catch.
A feeling of deep unease swept over Miranda, her words coming out disconnected, far away. "Catch you. I'll always catch you as long as I'm able…can't let you fall." The images from her nightmare, watching Andy fall from that cliff caught her. Fear began to pull at her, its web catching her in its strands.
She clutched Andy to her with a sharp cry, "No, no, not again….never again." She forced herself to take deep breaths, pulling herself back to the moment, the woman in her arms. Remembering her promise, She gasped out, "Now, it's happening now, Andréa."
Andy reacted quickly, soothing, hands running down Miranda's back. "Right here, M'ran, we're both right here. Breathe with me. Hear me…come back to me."
Miranda calmed slowly, taking slow deep breaths, forcing herself to relax her hold and grounding herself back to the room and the woman who held her. "Oh gods, so awful. Last night, your nightmare? You said you were falling into water. I've had the other side of that, watching you fall to your death. Not able to catch you. I just lost it. It's more like a memory. Horrible, so horrible."
Andy pushed her back flat on the bed, pressing herself to her side, untangling them but staying close, her voice low, resting a hand flat against Miranda's chest. "I've been having nightmares the last months, getting worse all the time. I think I might know what's happening. I don't even know that I believe this stuff …..Can you hear this?"
Miranda took in her troubled eyes. "Yes, tell me. I'm so tired of this nightly stalking. Anything that can exorcise this, I need to hear."
"I've had this odd sense of déjà vu with these damn dreams. That dream that you woke me from? I'm standing on a balcony with you, holding you, watching a sunrise. Something, the balcony railing, gives way and I twist, pushing you out of the way and I fall, going over the edge. You try to catch me but…. I hear you scream. I fall and fall...endlessly. I hit the water and go deep, can't reach you or the surface. I died there, drowned. And I think this is a past life memory… not a dream."
Miranda went pale, her voice distant. "And I moved into seclusion, mourning you the rest of my life. Dying alone and lost. Oh gods, no wonder I would be so terrified ...so afraid of losing you….."
Time twisted away with a long echo, a radar ping into a distant past, unfolding and spinning back into the now. The rightness hung between them, unexplainable, improvable.
"We'll never know and in the end, it doesn't matter. But I do know you were fated to be mine in this lifetime… and I am yours." Andy leaned in to capture answering lips in a heated kiss, murmuring. "I love you, M'ran."
"I love that murmur of a name you call me." Her body rose to the one shifting above her, dark hair curtaining their faces as Andy looked down at her.
"It's your name from the dream, it fits you." Lips descended, sipping kisses, brushing with muttered words, punctuating each with a kiss. "Mine, all of you. Mine. Right now, right here. Mine. My M'ran."
Miranda's fist gathered Andy's hair at her nape, the last kiss deepening as her lips parted, gently sucking Andy's tongue deep, her body arching up with that sweet ache of insistent heat catching her. Tides passed between them, pulling and releasing.
Andy shifted, the kiss slipping away with a fluid shift of hips. "I hear music when I kiss you, when I touch you." She dragged a hand over the curve from the lower ribs to hip, drawn to the magnet of Miranda's body, just as she had caressed the curved waist of her guitar. Hands lifted to encompass full breasts, pressing them together, a mouth descending, suckling each peak to aching tenderness, hard and full.
Miranda moaned, hips rising, joining to those above her. "You do play me….find all the strings that tug at my insides….love me, Andréa, you take me so deep…"
As Andy slid down, that same curve was gently nipped and licked, a hip bone bitten as teeth embedded briefly in skin by a fiercely loving mouth. A knee was bent, drawn up and spread wide, exposing desire. Andy settled between open thighs, as her tongue dipped into dark, silky waters.
Capturing a hand that slid into her hair, she brought it down, sucking the index finger. "Spread you lips for me, M'ran." Her words pulled a groan as slim fingers gathered fluid and delicately opened inner lips, spreading them to her view.
"Yes, like that….. so beautiful." Andy's tongue danced over silvered, glistening fingers.
"Gods, Andréa….." Miranda undulated up into that mouth demanding more, feeling herself unravel as that tongue found her clit, sucking it up into heat. Andy let her tongue's imagination follow its own course, humming deep in her throat.
"Please, inside...come inside…close, so close…" Miranda's fingers slipped away as a mouth surrounded and fingers moved deep in one slow, complete motion. Andy joined herself to the woman she rode, following the pulse of rolling waves, her tongue matching the rhythm as they spiraled higher. Her fingers unfolded like a flower against demanding walls as Miranda came undone with an arching cry, a bright profusion of exploding colors behind her eyelids.
Andy followed the deep pulses gripping her fingers with inexhaustible gentleness, guiding, knitting back into the heart. Gradually, her mouth released with tiny kisses and she laid her head against a still quivering belly, coming to rest on that warm shore, releasing a sighing breath of ultimate contentment. Her fingers slid away reluctantly and she rose, moving into waiting arms that pulled her in deep.
They lay twined in each other's arms, fingers stroking, kisses finding places to ease, holding, pulses settling. Andy captured a hand and sucked still damp fingers, invoking a sharp breath and a full body shiver.
"You are going to absolutely destroy me, beloved." Stroking across a soft cheek, those same fingers tangled in tousled hair. "I love you, Andréa, completely. I'm going to find every way I can to remind you of that every day."
They were interrupted by the low growl of Andy's stomach." Miranda laughed at Andy's sheepish look. "And that will include feeding you." She kissed her deep. "We're not done here. I have more of ...everywhere… to find." Andy's eyes widened at her words and she gulped. "Talk about destroying….."
She watched Miranda rise and toss her the silk robe from the end of the bed before finding another in her closet, wrapping lavender around her. Andy thrust her arms through sleeves, leaving the belt untied as she rose. Taking in disheveled silvered hair, kiss swollen lips, flushed skin, the deep V of the robe, she surrounded Miranda with her arms. "You look delicious, snackable. Sure you don't want to stay here?"
Miranda slid her arms under the robe, caressing soft skin. "Temptress…." An audible grumble made her smile. "But part of you disagrees." She gathered the robe closed and tied it firmly, capturing a hand in her own. "Come, real food…"
In the kitchen, Miranda busily went about pulling items from the fridge, getting out pans, making more coffee. Andy planted herself on a high stool after her help was refused.
A sound caught Miranda's attention, the vibrating buzz of an incoming message, from her cell phone left on the table the night before. Abstractedly, she reached for it. She read the screen with a slightly puzzled expression. Andy came up behind her, tugging her back into her arms, leaning her head against Miranda's.
"Who was that, love?"
Miranda peered at the phone. "It's your friend, Doug. I didn't know he had my private number."
"I didn't think he did. I didn't give it to him. What did he say?"
She laughed softly, turning to kiss the cheek next to hers. "Make sure she eats!"
Andy laughed with her, "He just does not quit."
"I agree with him, Andréa. Completely."
As they spoke, another message came in. They read it together.
"Nigel says hello."
AN: Kindly review, please. It would be appreciated. Epilogue to come.