"Oh, that shower felt good!" Emily walked into their bedroom, the scent of her pink grapefruit body lotion wafting along behind her. "Horatio, would you lotion my back for me, please? I think I may have gotten a bit too much sun today."
When he didn't answer her, she walked over and sat down beside him on their bed. He was staring across the room, the picture frame she had found a couple days earlier in his hands.
'Clinging to it for dear life, may be more like it,' she thought, noticing how white his knuckles were against the wood.
"Will you read me another story, mama?"
"I've already read you three tonight, Horatio! It's time you were in bed, little one.
"Pleeeease," he begged, widening his eyes innocently, knowing she could not resist him.
"Very well," she tried to look stern, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitching in a smile. "One more, then you must say your prayers and be snuggled in your bed, quiet as a little mouse before your father comes home. Which story shall we read?"
"Wynken, Blynken & Nod," he would say as he climbed back in her lap, her belly bulging with the baby she was carrying. He handed her the dog-eared book.
"Wynken, Blynken & Nod one night sailed off in a wooden shoe …"
"The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe…" he recited with her. Soon he was nodding off himself. He felt her kiss the top of his bright head and tuck him into his little bed.
"Sweet dreams, my son," he heard her whisper as he drifted off to sleep.
Slowly, Horatio looked at Emily, coming back to the present. Hesitantly she covered his hand with one of hers.
"What is it Horatio?"
He swallowed.
"Old memories of my mother," he said so quietly, she could barely hear him. When he didn't say anything further, Emily squeezed his hand encouragingly.
"Happy memories?" she asked him.
"Tonight they are," he said cryptically, looking once more at the picture. Emily looked at the photo again.
"That is your mother, Horatio?" He nodded.
"I see you have her nose and eyes. I'm thinking they were moonlight blue also?" A shadow of a smile flitted across his mouth, then was gone.
"Her hair was red too," he offered, "like Ray's and mine."
"What was her name?" Emily asked carefully, not wanting to push too much.
"Everyone called her Britta," he answered. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Emily.
"She was a teacher. Elementary school. I wish …" he left the sentence unfinished, unwilling to say anything further. Sensing that he had gone as far as he could tonight, Emily reached up and gently stroked the side of his face.
"It's ok, lover. Grandma told me to remember the good things. I know I couldn't always do that. Sometimes," now she hesitated. Choosing her words carefully, Emily went on, "sometimes, all I can remember is how I saw her the last time she was alive … and that wasn't the picture I wanted to hold in my mind. That wasn't the woman who pushed me on the swing until I felt like I was flying, or helped me catch enough fireflies to put in a jar to make a lantern." She sniffed, self-consciously wiping her eyes with her other hand.
"I think," Horatio said huskily, "that we've both had enough reminiscing for the night." He reached over to set the photo face down on the table beside the bed. Reaching for her hand, he fingered the wedding band on her finger.
"I love you, Emily. Nothing will ever change that." She looked into his blue eyes and felt again like she was drowning.
"I love you, too Horatio." Emily murmured, wanting very much to hold him in her arms and kiss away the tight lines around his mouth. "Let me hold you tonight, lover."
TBC