Epilogue
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
. . . for
all the days of our lives
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I woke as the early morning sun streamed into our bedroom,
touching my cheek in a warm caress. Outside the open window, a slight breeze teased the treetops, wafting
the scent of lilacs in its wake. I
could feel the warmth of my husband sleeping next to me, his even breathing
keeping time with the ticking of the clock on my nightstand.
One year -- it had been one year since I'd faced the worst
enemy of my life, one year since I'd withdrawn from Lee and our marriage, one
year since I'd been pulled from self-deprecation and back into life. All of the terrors I'd ever faced, even as a
field operative, had paled in comparison to the one that had eaten at me from
the inside.
But Lee and I had pulled through, together, partners in my
fight against cancer as in everything else. My second surgery, surgery to reconstruct my breast, had been vastly
different from the first. Three months
after my mastectomy I'd approached it with a new frame of mind, the hope I
thought I'd lost resurrecting itself in the loving care of my husband, my
lover, my friend.
Hearing his soft snores, I rolled over and draped my arm
across him, enjoying the feel of his body held against mine. As he stirred to wakefulness, I whispered,
"Good morning, Lee."
"Mornin'," he mumbled sleepily, his hand finding mine.
"How'd you sleep?" I asked as I felt him idly playing with
my wedding ring.
"Great," he said, rolling over to face me. "I had this amazing dream."
I leaned in and kissed him lightly. "Oh?"
"Yep. There was this
train station, and a beautiful woman in a nightgown . . . "
"In a nightgown? How
shocking. What happened?"
"Well, she met this dashing spy and fell madly in love," he
teased as he ran his hand up and down my spine, his touch causing my body to
come alive.
"She did, did she? Isn't that dangerous, being in love with a spy?" I asked, reaching out to caress his face.
"Ah, but she became his partner and he fell madly in love
with her, too. The bad guys didn't
stand a chance." He moved his hand
inside my nightgown and brushed the side of my breast with his fingertips.
"I see." I gasped as
I felt his hand caressing my skin. "So,
was that the end?"
"Nope. But the rest,
I'll just have to demonstrate," he said as he rolled us over, a teasing smile
on his lips.
I looked up at him, seeing the love in his warm, hazel eyes
-- love that had confronted a common enemy and won, love that had met pain
head-on and not given up, love that had faced down bitterness and despair and
come out victorious. My last coherent
thought as his mouth took possession of mine was the sure knowledge that the
dream wasn't over, there was definitely more to the story . . . to our story.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
