Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

by Kimberly21570

Otalia. This story takes place during and after the conversation where Olivia is freaking out about Phillip’s return. Just my take on what Could have transpired after this amazing scene ...

5. Chapter 4: The Letting Go

Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

Author: Kimberly21570

Fandom: Guiding Light

Pairing: Olivia and Natalia

Disclaimers and Other Assorted Ramblings: All characters in this chapter are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. Chapter title based upon the song "The Letting Go" by Melissa Etheridge, 1993. No copyright infringement intended with regard to Melissa Etheridge or her label, CBS, TeleNext, P&G, GL or any other entity. The dialogue, props, etc. in this scene are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.

Just a quick housekeeping note: I know the farmhouse that we see onscreen has a concrete front porch; however, if memory serves me correctly, the house is supposed to be representative of the old Jessup Farmhouse that belonged to Hart Jessup's family for generations, and was left to Cassie upon Hart's death. That being the case, the house should have a front porch constructed of wooden planks, not concrete; and it is there that I will divert from canon with regard to the farmhouse, because quite frankly, an old wooden porch lends infinitely more character to the setting, and substance to descriptive narrative, than does a slab of concrete. I'm certain that, as you read the chapter, you'll understand.

And now a warning: Frankfurter is in this chapter; but only for Natalia to send him on his way. I will admit to having been quite fond of the character of Frank in years past; however, I make no apologies for my extreme dislike of the current characterization. Before this storyline, he really was a decent guy; and while I have endeavored to make his reactions palpable, I've also tried to not turn him into the complete asshat he's been on the show.

I know this chapter is short; but I felt that it needed to stand alone.

Again, I've sent individual responses to those who have commented on this story, whose accounts allow for such communication. However, I also wanted to acknowledge those to whom I cannot respond directly. I truly appreciate your interest in this story.

Rating: Chapter 4 is rated PG-13 for Frank, no pun intended; I swear, *devilish grin* discussion of a romantic relationship between two women; but subsequent chapters will eventually reach NC-17.

Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

Copyright May 2009

"I have held the winter's son
Become one
Set my pace.

Piece by piece I take apart
This complicated heart.

We choose our road
The letting go"

Melissa Etheridge, "The Letting Go"

"The greatest show of strength exists in having the courage to let go; when the only thing your hearts wants, is to hold on for eternity …"

Kimberly Kemerer

Chapter 4: The Letting Go

"Natalia, Baby, what are you doing?" Frank said; finding her with a snow shovel, clearing the front walk, as evening began its descent on the farmhouse. He shook his head as he hastened his clip; the rock salt crackling loudly under his boots, as he made his way toward her.

"Frank!" she exclaimed; startled from her thoughts of Olivia and Emma, and the day they had shared together. She eyed him nervously as she fidgeted with the shove handle. "Wh-what are you … doing here?" she stammered; rock salt crackling as she restlessly shuffled her feet.

"Well, I was worried about you being stuck out here, Baby, so … I came out to plow your driveway …" he explained; turning to point toward the four-wheel-drive pickup truck with the blade affixed to the front.

Ohh, Please don't call me Baby …, she shuddered; tendrils of guilt jabbing at her.

Frank noticed the slight tremor. "Are you cold?" he asked; concerned.

She chuckled to herself. "Hardly …" she replied sardonically. "Where did you get a plow?" she asked; diverting the conversation, in an attempt to quell her own tension.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he shrugged his shoulders. "Called in a favor from a buddy …" he explained; brushing the effort off as nothing.

She looked away, shuffling her feet again; causing more crackling from the rock salt; then looked back, considering him carefully. "Thank you for … going to all that trouble, Frank," she said appreciatively. "I can't believe you came all the way out here … just to do that for us …"

"Well, I didn't just come out here for that …" he admitted; watching for any signs of adverse reaction. "I … I wanted … to talk with you … Things have been … a little … weird between us, since …" he said, his voice slightly edgy, as the words trailed off. He dug his hands deeper into his pockets, as if digging for his next words.

A nervous tension lingered in the air, when words filed to find him. Then, suddenly distracted by the shovel, he interrupted the silence. "Here, let me have that …" he said; yanking one hand back out of his pocket, reaching for the object.

Startled by his sudden movement, Natalia wrenched the shovel handle out of his range without thinking; surprising even herself with the knee-jerk reaction.

"Y-you shouldn't be out here … shoveling snow …" he said quietly.

Natalia sighed and closed her eyes. You're such a good guy, Frank, and I'm truly sorry I have to hurt you. She looked at him then, offering him a pitying smile. "Needs to be done," she said resolutely, "and I'm the only one here to do it, because I don't want Olivia putting her health at risk …"

He considered her carefully for a moment; once again searching for that which was just out of his reach. "Well, you see … that's just it, Natalia," he finally replied; finding his words again. "I don't want it to be that way for you. I wanna make your life better. I wanna take care of you … I want …"

He paused, pulling a tiny silver box from his coat pocket; opening it carefully, as he bent down on one knee; peering up at her.

Ohh, No, No, No, this is Not happening …, Natalia thought; just as Olivia opened the front door to bring her a mug of hot cocoa.

Olivia's breath caught in her chest; her mouth wide open, as she gaped at the unfolding scene.

The diamond was small, but brilliant, as it sparkled in the soft light of the front porch lamps, and Natalia's mind raced with a mixture of trepidation and awe. "Frank, please, don't …" she interrupted; heart pounding out of her chest, as she realized the treacherous path that lay in her future.

"No, Natalia, please, hear me out," he begged with those pitiful hound dog eyes. "I know this is fast …"

"Like lightening, Frank …" she quickly pointed out; a disbelieving expression on her face. Why can't You be Glacial!

Even if she hadn't already known it, the tone in Natalia's voice, the expression on her face assured Olivia that Frank Cooper was not now, nor would he ever be a threat. Genuinely surprised by her own lack of insecurity, she smiled at the younger woman's comment, and casually leaned against the doorframe.

"I know, but … Olivia helped move things along …" he admitted. "She told me … little things that you needed; things that would make you happy …"

"Hmm … Olivia … did that – did she?" Natalia said, arching an eyebrow. She stole a stealthy glance at the woman standing in the doorway, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Olivia watched her with those eyes; that barely-there smile playing at the corners of those perfectly kissable lips; and Natalia felt a surge of desire flash through her body, as those ravenous eyes pierced her soul.

"Yeah …" he confirmed, grinning goofily. "She really knows you, Natalia, and … she wants you to be happy …"

Natalia smiled, as her thoughts turned back to Olivia. "I am happy, Frank …" she said; glancing over; locking eyes with the source of her happiness.

"I know you are, Baby," he smiled; completely oblivious to the reason for her happiness, standing in the doorway.

Again with the Baby thing? Ugh. Frank, please stop before you make me ill. I feel guilty enough already. She sincerely hoped the expression on her face didn't reveal her inner thoughts.

"I know things have been a little … off … between us, since we made love …" he said understandingly, "but I love you, Natalia …"

A twinge of hurt plucked at Olivia's heart upon hearing him say those words. Until then, it had only been a concept; a fleeting thought – Natalia slept with Frank … Natalia viewed it as a mistake, and Olivia understood. But now, she was cognizant of what he was feeling – he viewed it as "making love;" and the thought of anyone other than her making love with Natalia tore at Olivia's heart.

And as Olivia's heart went on its internal tangent, Natalia followed suit. Oh, Frank, we Didn't 'make love' … We had sex. BAD sex. Sex that was only made even Remotely Tolerable by the fact that I was Daydreaming about Her … When I envision making love, my only thoughts are of Her …

"… and I want you to know that I understand why you were upset …"

Those words caught her attention. "You do?" she said; a ray of hope gleaming in her eyes.

"I do …" he said confidently. "I understand that it was because of your faith …"

Her heart slumped in her chest. "My faith …" she breathed; exhaling a burdensome sigh. You are So Wrong, Frank … You could not Possibly be more wrong …

"Yeah … and I want you to know that I respect you, I respect your faith, Natalia. It defines you. It … it makes you who you are; and … I want to show you how much I respect you … by making you my wife … Natalia, please, will you marry me?" he proposed; his voice tinged with a mixture of hope and desperation; two emotions that were seemingly incongruous, yet, somehow, he managed to combine them in this tangled mess he lay before her feet.

Natalia just stared at him; her mind racing in a thousand different directions. This seriously Cannot be happening. She drew in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly; the warmth of her breath sending clouds of fog billowing from her mouth, as her mind searched for words. "Marriage is sacred … to me, Frank, and … it has to be for the right reasons …" she quietly explained. "It can't be … because we made a mistake one night, when you were grieving for your brother; or … because I was running away from something that I didn't know how to handle …"

He tilted his head, giving a confused, yet curious look. "What do you mean, Natalia? It wasn't a mistake … I love you …" he said desperately.

She closed her eyes, to stave off the regret that welled up inside her. Then, her eyes fluttering open again, she reached for his hand; urging him back to his feet. "Come … sit with me," she requested.

Olivia watched her just a moment longer; issuing a silent request to God that He give Natalia the wisdom and strength she needed, before quietly closing the door; giving the younger woman the space she needed to let Frank down easily.

Natalia led Frank to the bench on the front porch; leaning the shovel against the exterior of her house before sitting down beside him. She held his hand; her gloved fingers, gently touching the cold skin of his, as she considered her words carefully. "I know you love me, Frank, and … I care for you, too," she acknowledged, "but … what happened between us, was … a mistake. One that I … deeply regret, because … I know it hurt you …" she said; the natural light in her eyes shadowed by regret.

The natural clarity in his dark eyes clouded with hurt and confusion, as he watched her. "I don't understand, Natalia. How did our lovemaking hurt me?" he asked; bewilderment in his tone, as his fingers clenched her gloved hand. "The only thing that hurts is the fact that you're referring to what we shared, as a mistake …"

She dropped her gaze, focusing on his hand in hers. "It just … it never should have happened, Frank," she said quietly. "You were there, grieving for Coop, and I was … running away …"

"What were you running from, Baby?" he anxiously interrupted; gently squeezing her hand. "Was it because you were scared about Rafe? Because I wanna help you with that … I wanna get him into an early release program …"

Her eyes sparked with a transitory moment of hope at the thought of an early release for her son; and then she reminded herself of the reason for their conversation. Slowly, she shook her head side-to-side. "This has nothing to do with Rafe …" she informed. "This is about me … about these … feelings that have been … growing inside me for months; feelings that I … didn't understand, and didn't know how to handle …"

"Wait …" he interjected, "is this about Gus?" he asked; thinking his first-rate detective skills had helped him uncovered her truth. "I can understand if you're still grieving for him, Natalia," he said sympathetically. "He was your husband, and …"

"No, Frank," Natalia interrupted; attempting to halt his rambling, "this isn't about Gus. At least not directly …" she said; pausing to take a breath and garner strength to tell him the truth. "It started with Gus, and … it ended with the most … Unexpected love …" she exhaled, smiling softly; her heart swelling with emotion as she thought of the unexpected gift God had sent into her life; the woman who now inhabited her heart.

Frank opened his mouth to speak; the expression on his face a clear indication that he had completely misinterpreted what she was trying to convey. She chastised herself for being careless with her words, and promptly halted him with the cautionary lifting of her hand. "Please, don't say anything. Just … let me finish …" she quietly requested; hoping to avoid his faulty interpretation of what she was saying, before she had a chance to clarify.

Frank closed his mouth, shuffled his feet, and waited.

She considered her words carefully; wanting to tell him the truth, with as little pain to him as possible. Then, finally deciding up on the best course of action, she drew in a deep breath, and began. "When Gus died, all I could think about was keeping that One piece of him, that I had left, alive. And the only way to do that … was to keep Olivia alive …" she quietly shared. "That wasn't an easy task, by any means, because … she was so grief-stricken over losing Gus, and guilt-ridden over having received his heart, that all she wanted to do, was die … She fought me, tooth and nail; which … I'm certain … doesn't surprise you at all …" she said, with the slightest hint of an affectionate smile. "But … what might surprise you … is that I … am as stubborn as she is; and I refused to let her waste the gift that she had been given." She paused for a moment, swallowing hard; then continued. "And … what began as battle of the wills, over a gift she swore she didn't want, ended with me, receiving a gift I Never expected; never even knew I needed, until it was right there in front of me – wrapped in the heart … of Olivia Spencer. I don't know when, or how, or even why, it happened, but … I started out fighting with her, and ended up fighting for her … Fighting to save her, not because of Gus's heart, but … because I needed her to live … for me …"

He sat there on the bench. Stock still. Staring at her in utter disbelief; his mind twisting in senseless abstractions, as he attempted to make some semblance of rational meaning out of the words that emanated from her lips. Lips that he had kissed; and that he was certain, had kissed him back. But had they really? Certainly, they had touched; but was there passion in them? Was there passion in anything she had done, with regard to him? Or was he just safety? A diversion, to keep her from thinking of the person she really wanted; but was afraid to have? She needed Olivia to live, for her? That's what she said; but what did she mean? Olivia's heart was a gift? Yes, it was a gift – a gift from Gus to Olivia. But she said it was a gift she had received. Surely Natalia wasn't really saying … No. He had to have misunderstood. He refused to believe that she, Natalia Rivera, the woman whose unwavering faith, and solid moral code, were the very embodiment of her existence, could be in love with … No. He wouldn't believe it; not until he actually heard those words, emanating from her lips …

He shifted on the bench; silently slipping the ring into his right coat pocket, before dropping his elbows down to rest on his knees. Clasping his hands together, he studied the wooden planks that formed the front porch. They were weathered and worn, and they creaked under his feet, as he rocked his boots back and forth; making him think they could use some attention. A transitory thought allowed him just a moment to believe it could be he who could bestowed such attention; and then he forced the thought from his mind, as he turned his head; casting a sideways glance toward her.

But she didn't look at him; choosing instead, to focus on the silhouette of the snowwoman that stood proudly in their front yard, and the clouds of fog that billowed from her mouth as she exhaled into the cold, night air.

She heard Emma call for her, and her first instinct was to go to her; to respond to her little girl's needs. And then she heard Olivia, telling their daughter that she was outside talking with Frank, and needed some time alone with him.

He saw the motherly concern on her face, at the sound of Emma's voice; quickly followed by the light in those dark, expressive eyes, and the hint of a smile that she couldn't quite conceal, when she heard Olivia's voice in response.

And finally, finding his own voice, he uttered the one question to which he already knew the answer. "So, what, exactly, are you telling me, Natalia?" There was no anger, no accusation in his voice; only the emotion of a man, who was holding on to the last shred of hope he could find, as he willed her to say something, anything, that would tell him he was wrong.

"You know what I'm saying, Frank," Natalia quietly replied. "Please don't make me spell it out for you. I … I don't want to hurt you, any more than I already have," she said; silently willing him to just let it go.

"I need you to say it, Natalia," he insisted. "I need to hear it out loud, so I can try to make some sense of what's happening here …" he said; dropping his head to his hands. He was still for a moment; then, slid his hands down over his face, before exhaling a long breath; turning to look at her again.

She reached up, taking the silver cross between her thumb and forefinger for the second time that day; as if the tiny symbol held the power to bolster her courage. She looked him directly in the eyes; but it wasn't a challenging stare; there was nothing confrontational in those dark, expressive eyes; only the clarity of her feelings for Olivia; clarity that flowed from her heart, and out through her words, infusing the night air with the truth of this unexpected love. "I'm telling you … I've learned that love doesn't always come packaged in conventional ways, Frank ... Sometimes it comes from the most unusual of places, or in the most unlikely of persons … Sometimes, it comes … from somewhere amidst a swell of chaos, and … it's only when that chaos dies down, that you see it for what it really is … what it's meant to be … And sometimes … it exists for reasons that we don't really understand, can't even comprehend; but … those elusive reasons cease to matter, because within that love, lies a comfort, a safety, a sense of rightness that defies … all reason …"

The more she talked, the louder the drumming became, as he bounced his legs; thumping the heels of his boots against the wooden planks below his feet. She knew she was hurting him; that every word she uttered was yet another dagger to his heart; but once she began, it was impossible to suppress the force that propelled her; much like attempting to quell the momentum of the runaway train. But she also knew, it would be better this way. One quick shock to the heart, to expunge all that would cause pain; and then, the healing could begin.

And so she continued, "I'm telling you that … Sometimes what we think … is meant to be … wasn't ever really in the cards at all; it was just a means to get us to where we really belong. A year ago, I thought … I had lost everything I Ever wanted. All my childhood dreams were gone in a flash; lost in a pile of mangled metal, and the blood of the only man I had ever loved. But something new, and different; something so … completely right, emerged from the ashes; and today … Today, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that … I had to lose what I thought I wanted, in order to find what I really need. And what I need, more than anything in this world … is Olivia …"

Frank rose from the bench abruptly, yanking the brown tweed newsboy's cap from his head, and slowly raking his fingers through the dark brown waves of his hair. "You can't really mean this, Natalia," he insisted, as he paced across the porch; wooden planks creaking and snapping under his weight. "This isn't who you are; it isn't what you believe. NO …" he said; shaking his head at her, as if he could push the truth away by the sheer force of his will. "I refuse … to believe this. You're just … confused, because she has Gus's heart … You nursed her back to health, so you could feel close to him; and you ended up getting attached to her daughter … You live with her, and you work for her, and … you're allowing circumstances to dictate your feelings …" he maintained; stamping his foot, and slipping the cap back onto his head, as he turned to stare out into the night.

She watched him standing there; his chest heaving from pent-up anger and frustration. "This has nothing to do with our circumstances, Frank," she countered, with resolute conviction. "It isn't about Gus's heart, or being attached to Emma; and it certainly has nothing to do with my being confused. On the contrary; I know … honestly, I think for the first time in my life … exactly how I feel," she said insistently. "This isn't about any of the people, or circumstances, or things you want to blame. It's about her … It's about who she is … It's about who she is when she's with me, and when she's with Emma, and it's about how she makes me feel when I'm with her …"

He turned on his heel; pinning her to the bench with steely eyes. "'Who she is'?" he parroted; pointedly crooking his fingers like quotation marks around the words that bit into his craw; his voice riddled with anger. He shoved his hands back into the pockets of his jeans; squaring his shoulders, as he faced off against her. "Do you even know, who she is?!" he challenged.

Sometimes, you Need to Fight, she thought; remembering Olivia's words; words that had been thrown at her during their argument about the older woman's bombastic behavior toward the prison warden, after Rafe had been beaten up. Natalia's defenses swiftly mounted; almost as though Olivia's feisty spirit suddenly possessed her. "I know … Exactly … who she is, Frank …" she snapped back; rising from the bench in a flurry of movement; meeting his anger with a flash of her eyes, as she clenched her gloved hands into fists. "Don't ever question me on that!" she warned.

He stared at her with disbelieving eyes; teeth gnawing on his bottom lip, as he attempted to quell the urge to bite back. Never having witnessed such raw emotion in her; he wondered at the reasons why. And again, there was that question of passion. He had never witnessed such passion in her, not even when it came to Rafe; and as he reflected on times past, the only recollections he had of any passion in her whatsoever, were when she was either fighting with, or protecting, Olivia.

She studied him carefully; the taut stance of his body, the pained expression on his face, the confusion in his darkening eyes; and realized that anger would get her nowhere; that it would only give the appearance of defensiveness, which could be misconstrued as guilt. And she felt not a shred of guilt over loving Olivia. Not anymore. She closed her eyes against the anger, forcing it into the distance; and then, she explained to him, with clarity of conviction, exactly who Olivia Spencer was, and always would be, to her. "I know who she is, Frank," she reiterated; a calmness to her voice that was absent only moments before, as she reached out, placing her hand on his forearm; pressing him to look her in the eyes. "She's strong … and she's confident, and she's passionate. She's not afraid of anything … and she never backs down from a fight; especially when the stakes involve someone she loves …" she said; a fierceness in her voice, the likes of which he had never heard. "And she loves deeply, Frank. More deeply than anyone else knows; and within the depths of that love, there's something so … fragile … about her; so vulnerable …" she added; her voice softening to a whisper, as she considered those parts of Olivia that she kept hidden from the world. "She lets me see those things … She lets me see who she really is, when all the facades are stripped away. So please … don't try to tell me I don't know her; because I know her … better than anyone else in this world; save God …"

He glared at her, and she could feel the rumblings of his judgment before he even uttered a sound. "God?" he retorted, with caustic accusation in his tone. "How can you dare bring God into this?! I was ready to marry you, because I respected your faith, your beliefs; the beliefs that I thought were the foundation of who you are. And now, I find you making a mockery of them. How can you do this, Natalia?" he asked; his boot feverishly tapping against the wooden planks; hands clenched tightly into fists. "What lies are you telling yourself, to justify your actions against your faith?"

Natalia sighed heavily; the sting of his words slicing right to her core. It wasn't so very long ago, that she was asking herself these questions; and pleading with God, to show her the answers. And the answers that He had given her were personal; they were her reinforcement, her shelter, against the bitterness of a condemning world, and they were meant to be shared only between her and Olivia, and their Maker. She set about answering him as honestly as she could, without attempting to justify that which required no justification.

"I know … you're hurting, Frank. And I'm sorry … for everything I did to play a part in that," she said, with quiet sincerity. "That was never … my intention. I never meant … for any of this to happen; I never meant … to fall in love with her. But I did … and loving her doesn't require justification to anyone. Not to you, not to Rafe, not to any of the narrow-minded bigots in this world, and not to God …" she asserted; conviction in her voice. "Nothing has changed in my relationship with God – My beliefs are firm; my faith solid; and that … will never change," she quietly declared. "I regret hurting You, because you're a good man, Frank Cooper. But I will never regret loving Her …"

He dropped her gaze; the weight of her words causing his shoulders to slump, as his hands fell limp at his sides. "If I'm such a good man, then why isn't my love enough for you?" he asked quietly; the bitterness of only moments ago, now fading into self-deprecation.

She looked at him; her eyes slowly tracing the contours of his face, focusing on the crinkles around his eyes, and remembering what it was like to see him smile; to hear him laugh. "You are a good man, Frank," she reassured, "and you love me more than I even deserve; especially given the way I've hurt you …" she said; the inflection of her voice and the pained expression in her eyes telling him how deeply regretful she was. "This isn't about your love not being enough. Your love for me was never in question. This is about my love for you, not being the kind of love you deserve …"

He looked at her with pleading eyes; that almost broke her heart. "But … whatever love you have for me, would be enough, Natalia," he quietly replied; fighting for one last chance. "We could make it enough … if we tried …"

The pain and longing in his voice was too much for her to bear. She turned away from him; closing her eyes tightly against the images that of him that rushed through her mind, as tears streamed down her face.

He reached out, gently placing a hand on her elbow. "Look, I know I don't have money, like she does; but … I can give you a good life, Natalia. I can give you things that she can't … like a real family for Rafe, and more children, if you want them, and a life devoid of awkward stares from judgmental strangers," he said; knowing in his heart, that it was over, but not yet ready to let go.

"Oh, Frank, don't you understand?" she cried; burying her face in her hands, as she leaned against the porch column. "This isn't about who has more money, or who can give me a more perfect life. It's about the way she makes me feel inside …" she shared; sniffing back tears, as she lifted dark eyes to meet his; hoping those eyes would show what words failed to convey. "She makes me strong, Frank. She believes in me; gives me confidence in myself. And she makes me happy … in ways I can't even begin to comprehend; let alone, explain to you …"

A lump formed in his throat, as his eyes traced the tracks of her tears; and he forced himself to resist the urge to reach out and wipe them away. "Well, if you can't comprehend why she makes you feel the way you do, then … how do you know it's real?" he asked; his voice devoid of sarcasm or judgment. He needed to know that she was certain of her feelings; that she wouldn't change her mind.

"It isn't … that I don't know the reasons why … It's that those reasons are so big, so amazingly overpowering, that I can't even put words to them …" she explained; wiping the tears from her eyes. "She is … everything to me …" she whispered; closing her eyes against the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill. "I don't need any more words than that …"

Standing there, looking into those tearstained eyes, listening to her pouring her heart out to him, tears welled up in his own eyes, as he realized how he had failed her; and how he had failed himself. He had been so wrapped up in his love for her, that he failed to see what was staring him in the face. He was happy with her; happier than he had been in years, and he had wanted so much to hold on that feeling; the one that had always eluded him in the past. But her happiness was wrapped up in a love that he couldn't understand, and she couldn't deny; regardless of the complications or consequences. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her, to comfort her; but he knew in his heart, the only arms that could bring her comfort, belonged to the woman whose love was so strong it defied all reason.

It was early evening when their conversation ended; when he finally accepted the fact that she was no longer his; or that she never really was his in the first place. And staring out into the darkening sky, he focused his attention on the eastern horizon. "Leo is rising …" he said distractedly; spotting the telltale sign of approaching change. He slipped his hands into his coat pockets; finding the velvet box on the right side. His body turned rigid, and his eyes clamped shut, staving off the tears, as his fingers curled around it. "Spring in on its way …"

He hadn't placed his hands in his coat pockets since depositing the ring box what seemed like hours ago; and she could tell by the tensing of his body, the crack in his voice, that he had discovered it there.

Her heart broke for him, as she watched him standing there; knowing that she was the cause of his pain. "I'm sorry, Frank …" she whispered; wishing above all else, that there was something more she could say. But there wasn't; and any further attempts would only force salt into his wounds.

He stood there, stock still; his hand clutching the box inside his pocket. "I'm gonna go … finish plowing your driveway now …" he said to her; not daring to glance in her direction.

And with those final words, he turned on his heel, and walked away.

____________________

As the crackling of the rock salt faded into the distance, indicating that Frank had walked out of earshot, Natalia cradled her face in her hands, as slowly, she slid down the pillar; crouching down with her elbows on her knees. What have I done to you? She closed her eyes, sheltering her tears against the stinging of the night air; her body breaking down into earth-shattering sobs.

Her day had begun with such promise, and held within it so many beautiful memories. Moments shared with Olivia, touching her, kissing her, falling asleep, and then waking up again, wrapped in the comforting safety of her arms. Moments filled with laughter; and some with tears. Moments filled with the joy of sharing their daughter. And while those moments were forever engraved in her memory; so, too, were the pain and sorrow her choices had implanted in his soul. She was certain he would forgive her. Someday. That's just who Frank Cooper was, and always would be – a man of honor; one who loved completely, and forgave far more than others often deserved. But where she lacked certainty, was in her ability to forgive herself. Forgiveness of self was a struggle with which she was intimately familiar; the construct of unrelenting guilt having been ingrained in her since early childhood. She fought against the shackles that bound her to her guilt, almost daily at times; even during the countless years when others viewed her life, and could find no reason for her to feel guilty at all. And it was those same shackles that bound her now; holding her motionless on the porch, as she waited for him to take his leave.

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The cold February winds whipped at his face, as he trudged through the snow; slowly making his way back to the borrowed truck. Climbing inside, he pressed the clutch in, and slipped the key into the ignition; turning it forward to crank up the engine, as his mind navigated through a mental map of his life. What he realized on this journey, was that his life had been an endless string of botched attempts at happiness, beginning with Elani, the first true love of his life, the mother of his only child; and ending today, with Natalia; the woman with whom he wanted to share a future; the one woman he thought would never hurt him. He wanted to ask himself how he had missed the signs; but he already knew that obliviousness to reality was his Achilles heel, when it came to love.

As the gears began to turn, and the engine roared to life, he pressed down on the gas pedal with deliberate force; drowning out the sobs that shuddered through his body. He had come here to this house, to her, with such high hopes for their future; and he was leaving with nothing more than a heart full of shattered dreams, and a diamond ring that held not even a smattering of the significance it had possessed only an hour before.

When his tears finally subsided, he glanced over at her front porch; finding her crouched down beside the pillar; face buried in her hands. Again, he wanted to go to her; wanted to tell her that he loved her enough to forgive her, because he knew forgiveness would come in time. But right now, he was hurting, and all he could muster was to love her enough to let her go.

He pressed in the clutch then, shifting the truck into gear, as he turned the lever to drop the blade; and slowly releasing the clutch, the truck began to lurch forward, clearing a path back down her driveway.

Coming up …

in Chapter 5: A little Otalia romance …

and in Chapter 6: Some surprise guests that some of you may recognize …