Many appologies for the delay in the posting of this second chapter and
many more thank you's to all of you for your previous feedback and
inspiration :)
Surfacing (Chapter Two) The Grace of My Heart
~o0o~
August lay in bed with the sheets pulled up only to his waist. The breeze flowing in through the open window in his bedroom brushed across his chest. Summer was just beginning and the weather was perfect for lounging around. He was still getting used to not working and living in his new house in upstate New York. There were boxes still piled in corners but he felt content. The mornings were always his favorite, waking up in bed to the scent of lilac floating on the air surrounding him would always bring back memories.
She always had the scent of lilac's on her hair and on her neck. The fragrance brought to mind nights of watching her with her hands in a sink full of foaming bubbles, her back to him, her hair pulled up and that beautiful neck of hers. He would come up from behind and subtly place both his hands on her upper arms. He would peek over her shoulder and would turn his head to tell her something when he would catch her scent. Wanting then nothing more than to graze his lips upon that smooth skin just below her ear and kiss his way down the back of her neck to the spot between her shoulder blades.
Instead he would close his eyes briefly and take a full breath of her quickly before too much was let on and would say as usual, "You know, you don't have to do that." She would smile and spin around to face him, "I know. I just want to. I don't want to leave you..." her voice would trail off for a split second before she would recover quickly, "with all these dishes here." Her smile would broaden and her cheeks would begin to flush as she shrugged slightly. He would pick up on the small cue but pretend he hadn't, believing that it would be best for both of them, especially Grace. If this continued who knew what consequences would follow, not that she wouldn't be worth it.
After rinsing the last cup with hot water and passing it off to August while he dried it with a towel Grace would slip her hands out of the soapy water and gently fling the left over bubbles on her wrinkled fingers back into the sink. But one evening she pulled her hands out only to catch August by flinging them at him as he turned to hand her the towel, one step out of their ordinary routine. August froze, looking down at the suds on his shirt and then looked back up at her in an expression of mock surprise. Grace would daringly raise an eyebrow and he would say, "Grace, you know that's not very nice." He remembered the way her voice sounded as she laughed out her response, "I couldn't help it, you were asking for it." August looked even more shocked, "Oh really?" Grace grinned taking the towel and wiping her hands on it as he held the edge, back in step with their routine.
August challenged her, "Well then, I'll just have to do something about this won't I?" Grace noted the look in his eye, devious, she dropped the towel and slowly started backing away. She wasn't fast enough to escape as he leaned passed her and scooped up a handful of bubbles and flung them at her before she could turn her back to him. The suds hitting the side of her arm and dripping down her sleeve she gasped, "I didn't think you'd do that!" She giggled and scooped up her own handful of bubbles and launched them at him, missing. "You underestimate me, fair Grace." He smiled and spoke softly. They were both by the sink now and he drew closer to her. This time she didn't back away as he put his hand back in the sudsy water, instead she dared him further, "You wouldn't." This time his eyebrow arched, "Expect the unexpected, I always say," he whispered out. She crept forward closing the space between them. Her expression was challenging and she kept her eyes locked on his as she felt his arm brush passed hers coming out of the water.
Very slowly he raised his hand. His palm empty but a quarter sized amount of suds on his index finger. He kept her eyes as he raised his finger to the tip of her nose and gently marked it with bubbles. Suddenly her eyes seemed darker, richer to August. He could not help it when his eyes slipped from hers and fell to her lips, warmly red, he noticed. It would have been so simple, he knew and it seemed so natural to be with her. Her lips parted and August stared, transfixed and captivated. But as her tongue slipped out and she licked her own lips something inside him burst and he held no control over the kind of wave that was washing over him. Building in his pulse points and spreading forth just under his skin, he knew he had to break away from her. He knew he didn't have long before he wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing her. Though he knew she wouldn't object, he couldn't allow it. Not because he didn't want to and not so much because he feared his job would be threatened but more because he felt he didn't deserve her.
Still, he drew himself back into the realm of reality by smiling at her and chuckling softly, "You know you have soap on your nose." Grace smiled back and silently touched nose, not quite removing all the suds. Without thinking he reached out with the corner of the dish towel and dabbed the rest of the soap off her nose. She must have realized the impossibility of the situation herself because she hadn't pressed any further that night. Just before she left he mentioned that for one night the theater on the other side of town would be playing Roshamon and suggested that she and a handful of other students see it next week. He remembered the way her face brightened and she agreed happily before gathering her things and leaving through the back door.
He smiled to himself now, remembering the way she would look back at him as she closed the outer door. Though the bounce in his step seemed a bit unmerited he couldn't stop himself from being pleased that the evening, despite it's limitations, had been so enjoyable. It seemed as though there were thousands of memories just like that one that came to him that morning. He couldn't escape them and finally gave into the temptation of containing them on paper.
Moving back to New York hadn't been as easy as he had expected. He missed the town he had grown to love and it held so many memories that he wanted to keep but he knew that he couldn't let her go until he moved on himself. She had already left and he knew it was probably for the best, for her. So he found a small house in upstate New York, close to his grandfather's home. Though he tried to convince himself otherwise the lilac tree outside had been a deciding factor in the purchase of the home. The notion of waking in the morning to the one scent that reminded him of her was too appealing to pass on. Somehow she had followed him there despite his efforts and he began to feel that perhaps the only way to do justice to the past months would be to write them down.
At first it was a freeing experience and eventually developed into much more. She inspired a story line too long to be captured in lines of poetry. The story was too complex and rich to be easily explained. An understanding couldn't be found in a page or two. No, it had taken more than four hundred.
By the end of the next Spring the book was already in publication. Writing had kept him through the holiday season and heeding writing advice from his grandfather, the poet Daniel Dailey, had helped him capture into words what he though had been impossible. He only wondered now what the next few months would bring. He hadn't been expecting the reception the book had received and was a bit shy of it, knowing that the truth lie just under the surface. However, he was more concerned with the opinion of the one referenced in his dedication. Had it been too obvious? He knew the lead characters name and the title had been a bit on the nose but he couldn't help himself from wanting her to know, if she ever picked the book up, that she had left an impression on him.
It had been a year since they had spoke to one another. He could have sworn he had seen her reflection once in the window of a local bookstore but being as he had been seeing her reflection in nearly everything lately he didn't look twice and filed through the checkout line. Maybe he had been wanting to see her so badly that he had been imagining things but in the back of his heart he knew that their last time speaking with eachother was the best parting he could have hope for within the confines of reality. He had meant it when he told her that she would find her ending.
He was aware that for her best interests that ending might not include him. She was youthful and he felt a sense of responsibility that he should let her go and find the world for herself. In a way he felt unworthy of her adoration. As he felt with his poems, they really weren't worth looking at because he felt she deserved only the best. She was honest, so full of potential, and not to say that he wasn't, but he never felt worthy of her and he certainly didn't want to stop her from achieving her full ability. She was so full of promise and part of him didn't want to get in the way but another part could barely handle the thought of being separated from her.
It was the hardest choice he had ever made, to leave it all behind, and it had backfired in a way. He hadn't escaped her even when he had written all of his feelings onto the page. All that was left now was to sit back and see where life would carry him. He had started a book signing tour by the middle of summer and offers still came in to sign at bookstores throughout the United States. The book had been especially well received overseas and that tour was to begin by mid fall.
He had received a request from a small bookstore in the town he had just moved from but knew that he had no time to schedule it in as he was already packing for his tour overseas that would land him eventually in Australia. He knew Grace had moved to Melbourne, her mother had said as much over the airwaves as she gave her departure from the radio station. He couldn't stop himself from contemplating what it might be like to meet with her again as the leaves on the trees outside began to tumble to the earth and the scent of lilac's was yet more than another season away.
~o0o~
Surfacing (Chapter Two) The Grace of My Heart
~o0o~
August lay in bed with the sheets pulled up only to his waist. The breeze flowing in through the open window in his bedroom brushed across his chest. Summer was just beginning and the weather was perfect for lounging around. He was still getting used to not working and living in his new house in upstate New York. There were boxes still piled in corners but he felt content. The mornings were always his favorite, waking up in bed to the scent of lilac floating on the air surrounding him would always bring back memories.
She always had the scent of lilac's on her hair and on her neck. The fragrance brought to mind nights of watching her with her hands in a sink full of foaming bubbles, her back to him, her hair pulled up and that beautiful neck of hers. He would come up from behind and subtly place both his hands on her upper arms. He would peek over her shoulder and would turn his head to tell her something when he would catch her scent. Wanting then nothing more than to graze his lips upon that smooth skin just below her ear and kiss his way down the back of her neck to the spot between her shoulder blades.
Instead he would close his eyes briefly and take a full breath of her quickly before too much was let on and would say as usual, "You know, you don't have to do that." She would smile and spin around to face him, "I know. I just want to. I don't want to leave you..." her voice would trail off for a split second before she would recover quickly, "with all these dishes here." Her smile would broaden and her cheeks would begin to flush as she shrugged slightly. He would pick up on the small cue but pretend he hadn't, believing that it would be best for both of them, especially Grace. If this continued who knew what consequences would follow, not that she wouldn't be worth it.
After rinsing the last cup with hot water and passing it off to August while he dried it with a towel Grace would slip her hands out of the soapy water and gently fling the left over bubbles on her wrinkled fingers back into the sink. But one evening she pulled her hands out only to catch August by flinging them at him as he turned to hand her the towel, one step out of their ordinary routine. August froze, looking down at the suds on his shirt and then looked back up at her in an expression of mock surprise. Grace would daringly raise an eyebrow and he would say, "Grace, you know that's not very nice." He remembered the way her voice sounded as she laughed out her response, "I couldn't help it, you were asking for it." August looked even more shocked, "Oh really?" Grace grinned taking the towel and wiping her hands on it as he held the edge, back in step with their routine.
August challenged her, "Well then, I'll just have to do something about this won't I?" Grace noted the look in his eye, devious, she dropped the towel and slowly started backing away. She wasn't fast enough to escape as he leaned passed her and scooped up a handful of bubbles and flung them at her before she could turn her back to him. The suds hitting the side of her arm and dripping down her sleeve she gasped, "I didn't think you'd do that!" She giggled and scooped up her own handful of bubbles and launched them at him, missing. "You underestimate me, fair Grace." He smiled and spoke softly. They were both by the sink now and he drew closer to her. This time she didn't back away as he put his hand back in the sudsy water, instead she dared him further, "You wouldn't." This time his eyebrow arched, "Expect the unexpected, I always say," he whispered out. She crept forward closing the space between them. Her expression was challenging and she kept her eyes locked on his as she felt his arm brush passed hers coming out of the water.
Very slowly he raised his hand. His palm empty but a quarter sized amount of suds on his index finger. He kept her eyes as he raised his finger to the tip of her nose and gently marked it with bubbles. Suddenly her eyes seemed darker, richer to August. He could not help it when his eyes slipped from hers and fell to her lips, warmly red, he noticed. It would have been so simple, he knew and it seemed so natural to be with her. Her lips parted and August stared, transfixed and captivated. But as her tongue slipped out and she licked her own lips something inside him burst and he held no control over the kind of wave that was washing over him. Building in his pulse points and spreading forth just under his skin, he knew he had to break away from her. He knew he didn't have long before he wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing her. Though he knew she wouldn't object, he couldn't allow it. Not because he didn't want to and not so much because he feared his job would be threatened but more because he felt he didn't deserve her.
Still, he drew himself back into the realm of reality by smiling at her and chuckling softly, "You know you have soap on your nose." Grace smiled back and silently touched nose, not quite removing all the suds. Without thinking he reached out with the corner of the dish towel and dabbed the rest of the soap off her nose. She must have realized the impossibility of the situation herself because she hadn't pressed any further that night. Just before she left he mentioned that for one night the theater on the other side of town would be playing Roshamon and suggested that she and a handful of other students see it next week. He remembered the way her face brightened and she agreed happily before gathering her things and leaving through the back door.
He smiled to himself now, remembering the way she would look back at him as she closed the outer door. Though the bounce in his step seemed a bit unmerited he couldn't stop himself from being pleased that the evening, despite it's limitations, had been so enjoyable. It seemed as though there were thousands of memories just like that one that came to him that morning. He couldn't escape them and finally gave into the temptation of containing them on paper.
Moving back to New York hadn't been as easy as he had expected. He missed the town he had grown to love and it held so many memories that he wanted to keep but he knew that he couldn't let her go until he moved on himself. She had already left and he knew it was probably for the best, for her. So he found a small house in upstate New York, close to his grandfather's home. Though he tried to convince himself otherwise the lilac tree outside had been a deciding factor in the purchase of the home. The notion of waking in the morning to the one scent that reminded him of her was too appealing to pass on. Somehow she had followed him there despite his efforts and he began to feel that perhaps the only way to do justice to the past months would be to write them down.
At first it was a freeing experience and eventually developed into much more. She inspired a story line too long to be captured in lines of poetry. The story was too complex and rich to be easily explained. An understanding couldn't be found in a page or two. No, it had taken more than four hundred.
By the end of the next Spring the book was already in publication. Writing had kept him through the holiday season and heeding writing advice from his grandfather, the poet Daniel Dailey, had helped him capture into words what he though had been impossible. He only wondered now what the next few months would bring. He hadn't been expecting the reception the book had received and was a bit shy of it, knowing that the truth lie just under the surface. However, he was more concerned with the opinion of the one referenced in his dedication. Had it been too obvious? He knew the lead characters name and the title had been a bit on the nose but he couldn't help himself from wanting her to know, if she ever picked the book up, that she had left an impression on him.
It had been a year since they had spoke to one another. He could have sworn he had seen her reflection once in the window of a local bookstore but being as he had been seeing her reflection in nearly everything lately he didn't look twice and filed through the checkout line. Maybe he had been wanting to see her so badly that he had been imagining things but in the back of his heart he knew that their last time speaking with eachother was the best parting he could have hope for within the confines of reality. He had meant it when he told her that she would find her ending.
He was aware that for her best interests that ending might not include him. She was youthful and he felt a sense of responsibility that he should let her go and find the world for herself. In a way he felt unworthy of her adoration. As he felt with his poems, they really weren't worth looking at because he felt she deserved only the best. She was honest, so full of potential, and not to say that he wasn't, but he never felt worthy of her and he certainly didn't want to stop her from achieving her full ability. She was so full of promise and part of him didn't want to get in the way but another part could barely handle the thought of being separated from her.
It was the hardest choice he had ever made, to leave it all behind, and it had backfired in a way. He hadn't escaped her even when he had written all of his feelings onto the page. All that was left now was to sit back and see where life would carry him. He had started a book signing tour by the middle of summer and offers still came in to sign at bookstores throughout the United States. The book had been especially well received overseas and that tour was to begin by mid fall.
He had received a request from a small bookstore in the town he had just moved from but knew that he had no time to schedule it in as he was already packing for his tour overseas that would land him eventually in Australia. He knew Grace had moved to Melbourne, her mother had said as much over the airwaves as she gave her departure from the radio station. He couldn't stop himself from contemplating what it might be like to meet with her again as the leaves on the trees outside began to tumble to the earth and the scent of lilac's was yet more than another season away.
~o0o~