Robert had tucked in both of his girls before going back down to his study
to read over the new protocols he would be presenting to his team the next
day. After a few final revisions, he sighed, shrugged and smiled, thinking
about his two sweet dreamers. He imagined Elizabeth's face as it looked
when she slept: smooth, white, gently curving smile, softly parted lips.
He switched off the lamp and started upstairs, tiptoeing as he got to the
top.
When he entered the bedroom he left the door to the hallway open slightly so that the light would shine in just a bit. Slipping off his shoes, he sat down in an armchair in the corner by the window and took of his socks, tossing them noiselessly into the open laundry hamper. He stood up to undo his belt and pull off his Levis, hanging them on a hook inside of the closet. Then the buttons on his shirt, which he flicked open ably with one hand.
Without attracting any attention, Elizabeth had half-opened her eyes to watch Robert undress. She swallowed back a little of the unidentifiable emotion she always had -- pity? pride? -- when she noticed how graceful he was even without his left arm. His movements were deft and smooth as he pulled the shirt from his left shoulder and then let it slip off of his right arm, flicking his wrist to grab the end and toss it like a ball into the laundry basket. Next he shrugged his right arm out of his t-shirt and then ran his hand up palm flat against his chest, to pull the t-shirt up over his head and then gently ease it over his left shoulder.
Elizabeth felt a little guilty as she stole a glance of Robert's body silhouetted against the light from the hall. He rarely let her see his stump, almost always wearing a long-sleeved cotton pyjama top in bed. Even when they made love, she would unbutton the shirt, slide her hands over his chest and onto his shoulders, but never dare to push it off and out of the way, respecting that last limit.
At first, she had even wondered if they could ever really be together. When he would kiss her and her hands would instinctively caress his face and neck and then slip onto his shoulder and arm, he would flinch, as if she had crossed some invisible line, broken a rule, shocked some deep reserve. She knew that he wanted her, that he ached for her, but she also knew that behind that self-assurance he was filled with doubts and fears that she wasn't sure she could ease.
After she had come home from the hospital, once she and her doctor had determined how to control her hypertension, her mother had offered to stay another week so that Elizabeth could take it easy. Elizabeth grinned a little at the thought, since she hadn't been so sure that her mother's company would have a very salutary effect on her blood pressure, but she accepted the gesture nonetheless.
She wondered how Robert would handle Isabelle, and even though she was supposed to stay calm, she was excited at the prospect of their dinner- table debates and then disappointed to find that they had decided on a truce. That week, Robert had come over every night and made fabulous dinners for the four of them, often entertaining Ella in the kitchen while Elizabeth napped and Isabelle paced. During the meals, Robert was charming with Isabelle and playful with Ella while Elizabeth looked on amazed at how he had so easily entered her everyday life. But then, when it was time to go, after he had loaded the dishwasher and kissed Ella goodnight, Elizabeth would walk him out into the front foyer and he would kiss her too, gently at first, but then more hungrily, feeling her desire surge up to meet his. They would close the door to the hall, her back against it and his lips would find hers, his hand would curve around her back and press her to him, their tongues would twist and taste and every so often loosen so that they could stop and look at each other, marveling that they were there together, both flushed and happy and jumpy as two teenagers nervous about being caught in the act.
When Elizabeth would finally let him leave, she would go back into the living room to take her mother's teasing. "Honestly, Elizabeth, you're a grown woman. Invite the man to stay. Do you think I'd really be so shocked?" "No, mother," Elizabeth would answer dutifully and Isabelle would continue, "Even if he is too short for you, and bald, and American, you are two consenting adults." "Yes, mother." And on it would go until Elizabeth would yawn loudly and break in with a goodnight and head up the stairs.
When Isabelle left (mother Isabelle, as Robert teasingly called her), they finally had dinner alone. Well, alone with Ella she thought. Robert never seemed to want Ella to be put to bed early, to be fed her dinner separarely, to be seen but not heard. He figured out which foods were Ella's favorites, he found ways for her to help (or to think she was helping) in the kitchen, and they always seemed to make each other laugh. That night though, Elizabeth decided that Ella should be put to bed as soon as dinner was finished, sweeping her off unceremoniously so that she could only wave good night at Robert over her mother's shoulder as Elizabeth swept her up the stairs.
Then when she came back down and saw Robert clearing up, she stopped him, took his hand and drew him into the living room and onto the couch where finally she could let him press her back against the cushions and kiss her without wondering what her mother was doing in the other room. That evening, Elizabeth's hair was in a braid and as he kissed her Robert played at loosening it with his fingers, tickling her ear and neck as he did. She wanted to beg him to stop, to touch her in other places, to hurry up, but his every caress was so delicious, that as much as she wanted him to hurry, to do something else, something more, she also wanted him to do the same thing over and over again forever. She moaned under his mouth, turrning her head so that his lips could travel over her neck and into the little well where her collar bones met. Robert's fingers followed, gently but confidently unbuttoning her blouse, tickling her seductively so that she gasped as he flicked each button aside. She arched her back and he removed her bra with ease, and then he gasped at the sight of her body, exposed so boldly to him. He was frozen in a sort of stunned wonder, so Elizabeth reached up, to touch him, to slide her hands under his light cotton sweater and pull it off, but as she reached up to his shoulder his whole torso tightened and pulled away from her, his expression changing from desire to anguish. He would have loved to look at her body forever, but he could not bear the thought of her seeing his.
Elizabeth slipped her blouse back on and sat forward, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close to her. He rested his head just under her chin and let her pull him back against her as she reclined again against the sofa. "Hmm" she murmured, stroking her fingers across his ear, his cheekbone, his lips. He closed his eyes and let himself melt into the warmth of her for a minute but then as if waking up to reality, he jerked away, sitting up to look at her. He grimaced a little and shook his head. "Oh Lizzie," he sighed in a voice choked with a sob. Then he stood and left.
But Elizabeth persisted and despite himself, Robert couldn't resist her. She kept calling him, inviting him, charming him. After dinner they would find themselves on the couch, hearts pounding, fingers intertwined, his mouth softly melting into hers, when, at just the moment she thought that he would let her in, he would pull away. No matter how careful she was, no matter how slowly and gently she touched him, no matter how torturously long she waited, the moment always seemed to arrive when he would have to leave.
Finally, she decided not even to invite him for dinner but just to invite him over in the middle of the day to talk. She did make tea and kiss him hello when he arrived, but Ella was napping and she had to seize the moment. "Robert," she said, taking his hand as he sat at the kitchen table next to her, "don't you trust me?" she asked with a smile. And his smile darkened to a frown as he understood immediately what she wanted to say. He withdrew his hand from hers and looked down at his fingers. "I love you Elizabeth," he said in a low, serious voice, "and I want the best for you. Let's just, let's just," he stopped and took a breath. As much as she wanted to reassure him, she also wanted to let him say what he was thinking so that somehow she could better combat his fears, calm his doubts. "Lizzie," he continued, taking her hand again, raising it to his lips, "Goodbye." And with a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, he let her go and left.
Elizabeth sat stunned. This man had been chasing her for years and suddenly he had just let go, given up, after she had offered herself to him, after she had finally let him into her life. Was she less interesting to him now that the chase was over, now that he had caught her? She was stung with the ease of this rejection and just watched him leave. She was sickened by the gnawing disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She had imagined that she would reassure him, calm him, and eventually seduce him, that she would easily explain that his injury changed nothing, that she wanted him just as he was. She had fantasized that they would tiptoe up to her bedroom while Ella slept in hers and make love all afternoon or at least until her daughter woke up. She had imagined that all it would take would be her admission, her confession that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and that he would abandon his defenses and open himself to her desires.
When she heard his car pull away she finally stood up and then picked up his empty teacup and slammed it down. "Damn!" and then she heard Ella and realized that she had wakened her, so she dried the tears of frustration and confusion that had sprung to her eyes and walked slowly upstairs alone.
After a few days of Robert not returning her messages, Elizabeth decided that she had to give it one last try. As hurt as she was by his sudden departure, she knew that he was hurting more, that he was pained by the thought that no one could ever love him now. That's not true, she wanted to scream angrily, but he wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't fight with her, wouldn't touch her, and she realized that she ached for his touch.
She knew that beyond the physical injury to Robert's arm there was a deeper wound that had not had time to heal. "You're taking good care of me," he had sleepily mumbled when she was tending to his arm just after surgery. She wanted to care for him in other ways now, not as a doctor but as a woman, the woman who loved him.
She called Chris to stay with Ella that night and drove over to his place, determined to tell him everything, to tell him how she felt, how she had felt ever since his sleepy admission of love for her months before. She wanted to tell him that she held on to those words, that she murmured them to herself at night when she was alone, that she longed for him to share her nights, that she dreamed of a life where they could take care of each other.
Elizabeth's heart was pounding by the time she parked her car. She bounded out, ran to his door and knocked hard. No anwer, no dog barking. Where was Gretel? Where was Robert? She had an answer to her first question when a dog walker came up behind her with Robert's dog on a leash. "Hi!" Elizabeth exclaimed, reaching out to pet a somewhat distrustful Gretel. "Hi" answered the equally distrustful dogwalker who was obviously not used to Robert receiving visitors. "I'm supposed to meet Robert here, but it looks like he's running late,"Elizabeth lied. "He's stuck at work," the dog walker explained, still not opening the door with the key in his hand. "Well, if you could just let me in, I'll keep Gretel entertained til he gets here," Elizabeth offered. The dogwalker looked doubtful but luckily Gretel decided to cosy up to Elizabeth just then, and Elizabeth remembered that she had half of a sandwich in her open handbag. As she kneeled to sneak a snack to Gretel, she hugged the dog and looked up at the sceptical dogwalker again. "Gretel's still getting used to me. The old girlfriend jealous of the new I guess," she laughed. The dogwalker caved in at this, realizing that Elizabeth was not giving up, and finally let her into the house and left.
Elizabeth decided to wait in the library and curled up on the couch in the bay window with a book. The setting sun allowed her to read without turning on the light, but after a few minutes, her eyes closed and she allowed herself to think about how it would feel if the arm of the couch were Robert's arm, if the cushion were his chest, if she were lying pressed against his body....
Sometime around 2am she woke with a start. Everything was dark, her neck was aching and she wasn't sure where she was. Oh no! She thought, Robert's. And it was the middle of the night. Would she wake him up to explain? Should she just leave? Was he even home?
To answer that question, Elizabeth tiptoed upstairs and pushed open the bedroom door. Moonlight lit the bed and she could see Robert sleeping, lying on his back barechested with the sheet pulled down around his waist. He looked calm and sweet and sexy there, alone on the far side of the bed. Without further reflection, Elizabeth undressed. She stood by the bed, completely naked, her heart fluttering. She grabbed the sheet but then carefully drew it back so as not to wake him, slid underneath and then pulled it back up to her shoulder.
Robert groaned a little as he felt the sheet slide over his skin, but he didn't wake up. Elizabeth let out a breath in relief. But then she she turned to him and draped one leg over his then her arm across his chest pressing her body gently against his. Instinctively, as if he had been dreaming of exactly this, Robert circled her back with his right arm as she circled his neck with her left, sliding herself up so that their lips could meet. He slowly awakened then to her soft but insistent kisses, and when he was finally fully awake it was no longer possible for him to resist her.
"I love you," she whispered into his ear, tasting its pink softness, and Robert shivered a little as he heard her say those words for the first time, but as their bodies locked into an urgent rhythm, their heat finally warmed his lonely heart.
When he entered the bedroom he left the door to the hallway open slightly so that the light would shine in just a bit. Slipping off his shoes, he sat down in an armchair in the corner by the window and took of his socks, tossing them noiselessly into the open laundry hamper. He stood up to undo his belt and pull off his Levis, hanging them on a hook inside of the closet. Then the buttons on his shirt, which he flicked open ably with one hand.
Without attracting any attention, Elizabeth had half-opened her eyes to watch Robert undress. She swallowed back a little of the unidentifiable emotion she always had -- pity? pride? -- when she noticed how graceful he was even without his left arm. His movements were deft and smooth as he pulled the shirt from his left shoulder and then let it slip off of his right arm, flicking his wrist to grab the end and toss it like a ball into the laundry basket. Next he shrugged his right arm out of his t-shirt and then ran his hand up palm flat against his chest, to pull the t-shirt up over his head and then gently ease it over his left shoulder.
Elizabeth felt a little guilty as she stole a glance of Robert's body silhouetted against the light from the hall. He rarely let her see his stump, almost always wearing a long-sleeved cotton pyjama top in bed. Even when they made love, she would unbutton the shirt, slide her hands over his chest and onto his shoulders, but never dare to push it off and out of the way, respecting that last limit.
At first, she had even wondered if they could ever really be together. When he would kiss her and her hands would instinctively caress his face and neck and then slip onto his shoulder and arm, he would flinch, as if she had crossed some invisible line, broken a rule, shocked some deep reserve. She knew that he wanted her, that he ached for her, but she also knew that behind that self-assurance he was filled with doubts and fears that she wasn't sure she could ease.
After she had come home from the hospital, once she and her doctor had determined how to control her hypertension, her mother had offered to stay another week so that Elizabeth could take it easy. Elizabeth grinned a little at the thought, since she hadn't been so sure that her mother's company would have a very salutary effect on her blood pressure, but she accepted the gesture nonetheless.
She wondered how Robert would handle Isabelle, and even though she was supposed to stay calm, she was excited at the prospect of their dinner- table debates and then disappointed to find that they had decided on a truce. That week, Robert had come over every night and made fabulous dinners for the four of them, often entertaining Ella in the kitchen while Elizabeth napped and Isabelle paced. During the meals, Robert was charming with Isabelle and playful with Ella while Elizabeth looked on amazed at how he had so easily entered her everyday life. But then, when it was time to go, after he had loaded the dishwasher and kissed Ella goodnight, Elizabeth would walk him out into the front foyer and he would kiss her too, gently at first, but then more hungrily, feeling her desire surge up to meet his. They would close the door to the hall, her back against it and his lips would find hers, his hand would curve around her back and press her to him, their tongues would twist and taste and every so often loosen so that they could stop and look at each other, marveling that they were there together, both flushed and happy and jumpy as two teenagers nervous about being caught in the act.
When Elizabeth would finally let him leave, she would go back into the living room to take her mother's teasing. "Honestly, Elizabeth, you're a grown woman. Invite the man to stay. Do you think I'd really be so shocked?" "No, mother," Elizabeth would answer dutifully and Isabelle would continue, "Even if he is too short for you, and bald, and American, you are two consenting adults." "Yes, mother." And on it would go until Elizabeth would yawn loudly and break in with a goodnight and head up the stairs.
When Isabelle left (mother Isabelle, as Robert teasingly called her), they finally had dinner alone. Well, alone with Ella she thought. Robert never seemed to want Ella to be put to bed early, to be fed her dinner separarely, to be seen but not heard. He figured out which foods were Ella's favorites, he found ways for her to help (or to think she was helping) in the kitchen, and they always seemed to make each other laugh. That night though, Elizabeth decided that Ella should be put to bed as soon as dinner was finished, sweeping her off unceremoniously so that she could only wave good night at Robert over her mother's shoulder as Elizabeth swept her up the stairs.
Then when she came back down and saw Robert clearing up, she stopped him, took his hand and drew him into the living room and onto the couch where finally she could let him press her back against the cushions and kiss her without wondering what her mother was doing in the other room. That evening, Elizabeth's hair was in a braid and as he kissed her Robert played at loosening it with his fingers, tickling her ear and neck as he did. She wanted to beg him to stop, to touch her in other places, to hurry up, but his every caress was so delicious, that as much as she wanted him to hurry, to do something else, something more, she also wanted him to do the same thing over and over again forever. She moaned under his mouth, turrning her head so that his lips could travel over her neck and into the little well where her collar bones met. Robert's fingers followed, gently but confidently unbuttoning her blouse, tickling her seductively so that she gasped as he flicked each button aside. She arched her back and he removed her bra with ease, and then he gasped at the sight of her body, exposed so boldly to him. He was frozen in a sort of stunned wonder, so Elizabeth reached up, to touch him, to slide her hands under his light cotton sweater and pull it off, but as she reached up to his shoulder his whole torso tightened and pulled away from her, his expression changing from desire to anguish. He would have loved to look at her body forever, but he could not bear the thought of her seeing his.
Elizabeth slipped her blouse back on and sat forward, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close to her. He rested his head just under her chin and let her pull him back against her as she reclined again against the sofa. "Hmm" she murmured, stroking her fingers across his ear, his cheekbone, his lips. He closed his eyes and let himself melt into the warmth of her for a minute but then as if waking up to reality, he jerked away, sitting up to look at her. He grimaced a little and shook his head. "Oh Lizzie," he sighed in a voice choked with a sob. Then he stood and left.
But Elizabeth persisted and despite himself, Robert couldn't resist her. She kept calling him, inviting him, charming him. After dinner they would find themselves on the couch, hearts pounding, fingers intertwined, his mouth softly melting into hers, when, at just the moment she thought that he would let her in, he would pull away. No matter how careful she was, no matter how slowly and gently she touched him, no matter how torturously long she waited, the moment always seemed to arrive when he would have to leave.
Finally, she decided not even to invite him for dinner but just to invite him over in the middle of the day to talk. She did make tea and kiss him hello when he arrived, but Ella was napping and she had to seize the moment. "Robert," she said, taking his hand as he sat at the kitchen table next to her, "don't you trust me?" she asked with a smile. And his smile darkened to a frown as he understood immediately what she wanted to say. He withdrew his hand from hers and looked down at his fingers. "I love you Elizabeth," he said in a low, serious voice, "and I want the best for you. Let's just, let's just," he stopped and took a breath. As much as she wanted to reassure him, she also wanted to let him say what he was thinking so that somehow she could better combat his fears, calm his doubts. "Lizzie," he continued, taking her hand again, raising it to his lips, "Goodbye." And with a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, he let her go and left.
Elizabeth sat stunned. This man had been chasing her for years and suddenly he had just let go, given up, after she had offered herself to him, after she had finally let him into her life. Was she less interesting to him now that the chase was over, now that he had caught her? She was stung with the ease of this rejection and just watched him leave. She was sickened by the gnawing disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She had imagined that she would reassure him, calm him, and eventually seduce him, that she would easily explain that his injury changed nothing, that she wanted him just as he was. She had fantasized that they would tiptoe up to her bedroom while Ella slept in hers and make love all afternoon or at least until her daughter woke up. She had imagined that all it would take would be her admission, her confession that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and that he would abandon his defenses and open himself to her desires.
When she heard his car pull away she finally stood up and then picked up his empty teacup and slammed it down. "Damn!" and then she heard Ella and realized that she had wakened her, so she dried the tears of frustration and confusion that had sprung to her eyes and walked slowly upstairs alone.
After a few days of Robert not returning her messages, Elizabeth decided that she had to give it one last try. As hurt as she was by his sudden departure, she knew that he was hurting more, that he was pained by the thought that no one could ever love him now. That's not true, she wanted to scream angrily, but he wouldn't talk to her, wouldn't fight with her, wouldn't touch her, and she realized that she ached for his touch.
She knew that beyond the physical injury to Robert's arm there was a deeper wound that had not had time to heal. "You're taking good care of me," he had sleepily mumbled when she was tending to his arm just after surgery. She wanted to care for him in other ways now, not as a doctor but as a woman, the woman who loved him.
She called Chris to stay with Ella that night and drove over to his place, determined to tell him everything, to tell him how she felt, how she had felt ever since his sleepy admission of love for her months before. She wanted to tell him that she held on to those words, that she murmured them to herself at night when she was alone, that she longed for him to share her nights, that she dreamed of a life where they could take care of each other.
Elizabeth's heart was pounding by the time she parked her car. She bounded out, ran to his door and knocked hard. No anwer, no dog barking. Where was Gretel? Where was Robert? She had an answer to her first question when a dog walker came up behind her with Robert's dog on a leash. "Hi!" Elizabeth exclaimed, reaching out to pet a somewhat distrustful Gretel. "Hi" answered the equally distrustful dogwalker who was obviously not used to Robert receiving visitors. "I'm supposed to meet Robert here, but it looks like he's running late,"Elizabeth lied. "He's stuck at work," the dog walker explained, still not opening the door with the key in his hand. "Well, if you could just let me in, I'll keep Gretel entertained til he gets here," Elizabeth offered. The dogwalker looked doubtful but luckily Gretel decided to cosy up to Elizabeth just then, and Elizabeth remembered that she had half of a sandwich in her open handbag. As she kneeled to sneak a snack to Gretel, she hugged the dog and looked up at the sceptical dogwalker again. "Gretel's still getting used to me. The old girlfriend jealous of the new I guess," she laughed. The dogwalker caved in at this, realizing that Elizabeth was not giving up, and finally let her into the house and left.
Elizabeth decided to wait in the library and curled up on the couch in the bay window with a book. The setting sun allowed her to read without turning on the light, but after a few minutes, her eyes closed and she allowed herself to think about how it would feel if the arm of the couch were Robert's arm, if the cushion were his chest, if she were lying pressed against his body....
Sometime around 2am she woke with a start. Everything was dark, her neck was aching and she wasn't sure where she was. Oh no! She thought, Robert's. And it was the middle of the night. Would she wake him up to explain? Should she just leave? Was he even home?
To answer that question, Elizabeth tiptoed upstairs and pushed open the bedroom door. Moonlight lit the bed and she could see Robert sleeping, lying on his back barechested with the sheet pulled down around his waist. He looked calm and sweet and sexy there, alone on the far side of the bed. Without further reflection, Elizabeth undressed. She stood by the bed, completely naked, her heart fluttering. She grabbed the sheet but then carefully drew it back so as not to wake him, slid underneath and then pulled it back up to her shoulder.
Robert groaned a little as he felt the sheet slide over his skin, but he didn't wake up. Elizabeth let out a breath in relief. But then she she turned to him and draped one leg over his then her arm across his chest pressing her body gently against his. Instinctively, as if he had been dreaming of exactly this, Robert circled her back with his right arm as she circled his neck with her left, sliding herself up so that their lips could meet. He slowly awakened then to her soft but insistent kisses, and when he was finally fully awake it was no longer possible for him to resist her.
"I love you," she whispered into his ear, tasting its pink softness, and Robert shivered a little as he heard her say those words for the first time, but as their bodies locked into an urgent rhythm, their heat finally warmed his lonely heart.