XXI – Keeping Score

Knowing his wife would be uncomfortable with men from the staff traipsing into the bathroom, Sully thanked and tipped the bellboys at the door to their suite after they had deposited several buckets of hot water inside. Then, he proceeded to fill the large tub with the water himself. When he was finished, Michaela, once again wrapped in the large towel from earlier, her hair pinned up to protect it from getting wet, picked up her bottle of bath salts. Before she tipped it into the bath water, she asked, "Do you want to get in first this time?"

Sully turned to look at her, and with a suggestive grin, answered, "Why don't we get in together? Tub's large enough for two of us…" In one smooth move, he discarded the bedcover he had wrapped around his waist and extended his hand to her. She couldn't find a single reason to refuse the invitation both in his words and in his demeanor. Besides, she was more determined than ever to do anything he asked ofher. So, she readily settled in his arms once they had both climbed in. She sighed, half from contentment, half from frustration. Upon waking up a few hours before, she had wondered about how to reciprocate her husband's many attentions to her, and now, if anything, she felt even more indebted. And then she worried that he might perceive her renewed nervousness… what if he grew impatient with her constant fussing?

Sully couldn't see her face, but he could feel that she wasn't as relaxed as she ought to be. He wondered if she was embarrassed from what he had done, now that she had fully regained her senses. Was she embarrassed by the pleasure she had felt? He recalled her confession about how she had been taught that as a woman she had no right to expect pleasure all on her own, and how she considered ita duty – her wifely duty – to please him at all costs. He had obviously fooled himself into thinking they had gotten past that particular misconception of hers…

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" he asked very softly against her ear, keeping his tone loving and patient. Although he could guess, he thought it would be better to coax her into admitting her remaining insecurities and misgivings. After waiting a moment, he tenderly rubbed her arm.

Michaela took a deep, steadying breath, truly hating feeling so torn between the one part of herself which wanted to simply relax, enjoy her time alone with Sully and lavish him with the same kind of love he was showering her with, and the other part she had forgotten for a while, the insecure and helpless part, that wouldn't let her. Trying to vanquish it was beginning to feel like fighting the mythological Hydra… But wasn't she just being ridiculous…? She swallowed the lump of uneasiness stuck in her throat and tried to formulate an appropriate, yet truthful answer:

"A variety of things…" She sank a little deeper into his embrace, relishing the support of his strong arms wrapped around her. "How blessed I am… how much I love you…" Out with it, girl! "How I want to… to make you happy…" Humph, coward…

"Well, you sure do that. Maybe I should pinch myself to make sure I ain't dreamin', but then I'm scared to wake up," he stated, and then pressed a kiss into her hair, and tightened his hold a little more.

His response sounded reassuringly genuine, which encouraged her.

"I mean—Sully, when I told you that I felt as if I wasn't giving you enough in return, I… I meant it. And now… with what happened just after breakfast…what you did… for me…" She couldn't conclude.

Sully wasn't sure about how to address this: if he laughed, he might make her feel as if he wasn't taking her concerns seriously, and if he was being too assertive, it might confirm her belief that she had to submit to him because he was the husband… There were no maps. He had to take the risk of choosing one path and assume the consequences.

"Do we really gotta keep score? 'Chaela, you're makin' me the happiest man on Earth. I ain't expectin' more from ya than what you're already givin' me. When will ya believe me?"She gave his arm a shy squeeze, so he went on, "But I understand why you feel like that. I kinda feel the same… Remember last week when we climbed to that cliff? I told ya I'd give you the world, and more, if I could."

"Yes, I remember," she acquiesced in a low voice. He was right, which made the source of her anxiety seem more irrational by the minute.

"Tell me somethin'… What if I kept askin' you what I gotta do to be a better husband to you, huh? What would you say?"

Sully's astute tactic of turning the tables on her once more proved to be the surest way to convince her. She found herself unable to answer anything and shifted so she could peer up at him in awe. Her face eventually broke into a sheepish smile.

"Do I look as foolish as I feel?" she said with a sort of wince in her voice that made it sound almost childlike.

Sully grinned back and chuckled softly. "Nope. I think you look beautiful even when you think too much," he teased. His hand came up to stroke her nape as he bent his head to first kiss her brow, as if to smooth away the worried crease there, and then her mouth. His kiss was deep and slow, and held that sort of quiet, soulful passion with which he had kissed her during some of the most meaningful moments of their life together. This was the kind of kiss she loved best, for it was the most emotionally fulfilling – it warmed her straight to her soul and nothing could make her feel more loved and secure. Even after they had broken apart, they remained close, each absorbing the love that emanated from the other like an aura.

Sully, knowing they couldn't linger indefinitely in the water, eventually took a cloth and lathered it up with soap. Her soap. That clean, sweet, flowery fragrance that, combined with her natural essence, formed such a unique, heady scent… it had never failed to stir him and this time was no exception. However, he had to keep his desire in check until Michaela would give her assent again, even if that meant he might have to wait a while. He took a deep steadying breath, and began washing the remaining traces of honey off her skin, trying to keep his moves steady – and neutral. Had their morning not been so busy, he would have had no qualms about using the cloth and his hands to stimulate her most sensitive places. But that would be for another time…

So attuned with him was she that Michaela perceived the restraint in her husband's gestures. She had no doubt that under different circumstances, he might have transformed their bath into another sensual experience – Admit it, Michaela, you wouldn't have minded at all, she thought– and that the reason he wasn't doing so was only because he wanted to give her some rest. Perhaps if he had kept his distance from her, she might have interpreted it as a sign of dissatisfaction or boredom. But his everlasting tenderness was enough to assure her of his feelings. How blessed she was indeed!

She had no trouble either to understand his refusal when she swiveled around and reached out to take the cloth from him.

"Er… 'Chaela, might not be a good idea that you wash me…" He didn't elaborate, but raised his eyebrows meaningfully, as they both recalled that time a few days before when they had cleaned each other. Michaela's cheeks colored a little as she pictured Sully getting potently aroused from her touch in a matter of seconds, then abruptly getting out of the tub, barely taking the time to towel himself dry and carrying her to the bed for a torrid night of love, only to end with a bout of migraine in the morning… She fleetingly wondered if maybe he also felt the need for some respite from all their bedroom activities, whether he realized it or not.

She leaned forward to give his cheek a soft kiss, then rose and got out of the tub. She couldn't resist giving him another kiss before she left the room. As her face hovered above his, they exchanged a look where understanding and gratefulness melded, both aware that they parted only to better reunite later.

While they were getting ready to head out, Michaela asked, "Sully, would you mind if we wired home this afternoon? I want to know how the children are doing with Mother and my sisters."

"'Course I don't mind. I'd like ta know, too," he said. "After all, they're my family, now."

This simple statement struck Michaela speechless for a few seconds. It was true. By marrying her, not only did Sully strengthen his position of father figure to the Cooper children, but he had also become a member of the Quinn clan. This gave her an odd sort of thrill, since she still wondered whether her mother had truly and unconditionally accepted her love for Sully.

"Somethin' on your mind?"

His question startled her and she realized she'd been staring at the dresses in her wardrobe, lost in her thoughts.

"Yes," she answered softly, almost to herself. "I was thinking about Marjorie. She's—" She hesitated, wondering if she could divulge the grim details of her sister's wrecked marriage. "She's been ill. I treated her as soon as I found out about her condition but…"

"She looked pretty fine at the weddin', you musta done good."

"That's true, she seemed much better… I suppose, as a doctor, I'm always on guard for possible relapses," she concluded with a half-smile.

Sully chuckled and teasingly kissed the tip of her nose. "You've been known to do that on occasion…C'mon, let's send that wire and see how they're all doin'…"

After a light late lunch in the hotel tearoom, they headed directly for the telegraph office, and then went to the stores where they had spotted potentially interesting items to bring back to the children. They had a hard time deciding what to buy in the end, as they couldn't seem to find a consensus on anything. Yet they only laughed their disagreement off and worked out a compromise, under the indulgent or impatient look of the shopkeepers.

They brought the packages to their room and, as dinner time was approaching, Sully suggested they go out again. He had noticed a place on their way back to the hotel, a pub called The Four-Leaf Clover, which had appeared friendly and cozy and had appealed more to him than the neighboring saloon. Though he had never seen his parents' homeland, he knew that those public houses were widespread in England and Ireland, and were beginning to be rather popular as well in the working-class districts of large cities such as New York or Boston… The one in Denver displayed a huge signboard indicating the specials of the day, advertising for their many varieties of beer and whiskeys and in capital, bold letters, announcing that an Irish band was scheduled to play that night.

They both enjoyed the casual atmosphere, the lively music and the hearty, delicious meal. They even felt adventurous enough to taste some of the house's best-selling ale, and shared more than a few chuckles as they imagined Hank's face and comments if he knew they had both sampled beer. However, they didn't linger long, for tobacco fumes were starting to invade the room making Michaela cough, and the music could barely be heard over the loud guffaws of a group of rather rowdy customers.

Outside, the sun was only a few minutes away from disappearing behind the mountain range, tingeing the landscape with the soft rosy hue of summer evenings. In contrast with the stale odors of sweaty males, greasy fried foods, old alcohol and cold tobacco of the pub, the early summer night air smelled all the more sweet, fresh and pleasantly intoxicating. Before returning to their quarters, the couple tacitly agreed to take a long digestive walk.

Their steps seemed to naturally lead them to the park where they were getting used to going. It was obvious from the number of people filtering in and out through the gates that Michaela and Sully were far from being the only ones to want to enjoy the outdoors on such a lovely summer evening. They finally found an empty bench, half hidden by a thick shrub several feet from the path. There, they found a semblance of privacy. The hum of human conversations receded while the chorus of crickets chirping their nightly song was slowly rousing to serenade the few couples lingering in this less frequented area of the park.

The newlyweds sat in companionable silence for a little while, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, hugging her close, while his other hand held hers against his heart. It began with his thumb drawing small circles on the back of her hand, ever so lightly, and then their fingers threaded and re-threaded together.

"I love you," she murmured as she turned her head to place tiny kisses to his neck and jaw.

"I love you too… More than I can ever tell or show ya," he replied, looking so deep into her eyes she felt he could see her straight down to her soul. He lovingly ran the back of his finger down her cheek, his whole heart in his eyes. Slowly bending his head, he purposefully drew out the moment, and whispered against her lips: "My Heartsong." The word, its meaning and the intensity in his declaration pierced through her heart, the sweet shock of it sending tremors through her flesh. Her mouth opened under his without reserve, and they remained like this, lost in an endless kiss, affirming their love over and over, oblivious to everything around them…

Indeed, they didn't notice a groundskeeper carrying out his last round of the evening, nor did they register his words to a few other remaining visitors.

"Park closes in fifteen minutes, folks. Good evening."

The man approached a bench where a couple was snuggling and stopped short. He could tell they were kissing passionately, even with their backs to him and the bush half hiding them. He knew he had to make them leave, and he also should scold them for their improper behavior, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do that. Feeling like a peeping tom for standing a few feet from such an intimate scene, he resumed his rounds, waiting until he had walked a few more yards to shout around:

"Ladies and Gents, the park is closing. Please make sure you're not forgetting anything as you leave."

The loving couple broke apart, and Sully chuckled, "Reckon we'd better find a better place to kiss than this park, or one of the keepers gonna end up throwin' us out."

"Do you think he saw us?" she asked, coloring a little as she needlessly put some order into her clothes and hair.

"Hard to say… C'mon, let's go."

They took their time walking back to the hotel, reluctant to put an end to the lovely evening. Yet at the same time, the slow motion only increased Michaela's returning nervousness. Despite Sully's adjurations that he was happy and fulfilled, she remained unable to shake off the nagging feeling that she owed him. But every time she pictured herself reciprocating what he had done to her, especially since she was well aware that it was something a lot of men appreciated, the lump in her throat grew heavier and her resolve was slowly crumbling. Her rationality and her knowledge of the human body told her why this could indeed be a way to please him, and maybe to be able to give him physical satisfaction when she herself didn't feel up to intercourse, but something in her, perhaps her subconscious, reeled at the prospect. Over the course of their relationship, Sully had patiently helped her push her limits and overcome so many inhibitions. But this particular taboo? He hadn't asked for it, not even hinted that he wished for her to do something like that. She couldn't figure out how to let him know she was willing to give it a try without totally embarrassing herself, when the sole fact that she caught herself thinking such brazen thoughts about her husband was enough to make her want to disappear. And how could she do something like that without at least some kind of guidance from him?

When they eventually arrived in their suite, Sully led his wife to the balcony, hoping to help her release the tension he could feel coming from her. He didn't even need to look at her expression or the way her shoulders were set to know, for her mood radiated from her in invisible waves that reached him in a succession of tiny impacts. A bit like a Morse Code message only he could decipher. He smiled to himself at the comparison and drew Michaela into his arms. He rocked her gently, kissed the back of her hair, and rubbed her arms and shoulders soothingly, with very little effect. Again he guessed what could be a dozen reasons why she might be on her guard, but he forced himself to wait patiently.

Michaela was actually waiting for him to initiate their next encounter. She didn't just expect it, but she needed it. She needed only a sign, a kiss… a suggestive caress – anything that would indicate he wished to be intimate with her. Again she was assailed with contradictory feelings. Her intuition urged her to be the one to make the first move, guessing that Sully would welcome her taking the initiative, while on the other hand a loud warning kept echoing in her mind, You are NOT to impose yourself on your husband, you ARE to wait for him to decide. But he seemed content with simply standing there, embracing her. They had been having such a nice evening, why risk spoiling everything with such unnecessary fuss…? She willed her uncertainties to quiet down, and allowed herself to follow his example, letting the calm and sweet atmosphere suffuse her.

Thus, they stayed on the balcony until nightfall. When Michaela shivered from the contrast between the warmth of Sully's embrace and the coolness of the air that was descending from the mountains, he said, "Let's get back inside. Don't wantcha to catch a chill."

He left the French window slightly ajar, just enough to allow the fragrant night breeze in, and joined Michaela near the bed. She was undressing already, and was presently squirming to reach the buttons at the back of her bodice.

"Here… let me," he murmured. She stood still, waiting anxiously to see what he would do next, most of all how he would proceed. She secretly hoped he would seize the occasion… she wished she could send him a silent message through the exposed skin of her nape, that she needed his mouth there. The warm flush of desire was invading her body already – maybe he would sense it?

Sully's hands were on her bared shoulders, and he slowly turned her to face him, their eyes meeting. Hers were once more veiled with longing. Her breath had quickened slightly. His eyes dropped to her lips, noticing how the tip of her tongue furtively sneaked out to moisten them… His pulse quickened, and he could tell from the way her eyes darted from his face to his neck and back up again and the intensifying of her own reactions, that not only was she very much aware of his desire, but she was responding to it.

One word, one move from her was all he needed, and he would happily surrender.