Chapter 1
Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.
D. H. Lawrence
The Present
A form occupies a chair, holding the fingers of the one he's come to see. It's dark, but colourless eyes pick out every detail. With a thumb sweep, he notes how her hand is soft but frowns at its thinness and the visible paths of tiny bones. Knuckles in contrast are swollen slightly—the effects of years, days, hours, minutes.
The man's gaze follows a thick, blue line that travels along her forearm, past a bend and up to a peacefully sleeping woman. His dark nature invites him to partake by making her veins shine red, but he dampens it roughly. He's the one in control, even when hers is the sweetest. These few fleeting moments will not be interrupted.
Tissue paper fragile, her skin is hot as he touches it. A seductively slow pulse nearly beats him down. Soapy apricot rises to his sensitive nose, bringing memories of talking, sex, taking—a connection, but he resolves not to acknowledge them. Instead, Mick concentrates on the strands of creamy white reaching past her shoulders, remembering them as bright flaxen.
In shadows, he's watched tonight as little Anna played with Beth's hair, while Sarah read to her aloud. She smiled then and confessed, "I've been obsessed with Pride and Prejudice since I was twelve. But my daughter and grandbaby top my list of favs." At the rainbow of silk bows from her junior stylist, she grinned widely and helped Anna with a final touch
Through the preschooler's birthday song warble, Beth hummed. Afterwards, she touched only a bite of her chocolate cake. Then, she and her daughter discussed film adaptations, while Anna doodled, eating the leftover slice. "Colin Firth was the best Darcy in my opinion. I'm a sucker for brooding brunettes," she declared.
Sarah's brows knit then. She brought up the fact that the love of her mother's life couldn't be any less moody and, although he was grey now, he'd been fair. Reminded, she added, "It's you sixieth. You shouldn't have pushed Dad to go to Nevada."
Beth shook her head. "It was important, Sarah."
"Too bad you couldn't have gone."
"Your father's busy with his lecture series," she argued. "He doesn't need a one-legged wife. Besides, who says I'm not havin' fun?" She winked and said, "These pain meds are a party in a bottle," from her propped position on the bed, her broken limb elevated to ease the swelling.
"My mother the mountain biker," Sarah groaned. "What's your age again?" She smirked before tucking one more pillow underneath Beth's cast.
The Past
"They're wonderful Mick, but you didn't need to," Beth says with a smile, scooping up the flowers he's brought and trotting off to find a vase under the sink.
"I know what you said, but it's the big three O."
"The big three oh, don't remind me. Goodbye fancy-free twenties. Had to attend a 'Saving for Retirement' seminar at work. It was mandatory. Felt like I was being catapulted towards middle age and beyond," she complains.
"You're dating a guy whose ninety-something…you're practically a baby." Mick winks.
She snickers and pulls out the only thing she can find at the moment. The Mason jar will look cute with a kaleidoscope of Gerber daisies. After filling it with water, she removes the wax paper that wraps the bouquet and dunks it in. "Fabulous," Beth tells him, placing it on the kitchen island and taking a step back.
"I've seen your savage sweet tooth. What're you thinking for a treat? Devil's food cake? Good choice for a vampire…if I could eat." he teases. She's given him nothing to go on. 'No fancy dinner and no gifts, okay. If I just ignore aging it won't happen,' she announced last week.
"No more cake." Beth makes a face. At his curious expression, she explains, "Min made one. It's her new hobby. Roses are her specialty. They looked like little volcanoes with dino-shaped leaves. More prehistoric than pretty." Min is an excellent legal assistant, who has helped her numerous times with research, but she's no baker.
"That bad, huh?"
She nods. "Sugary…and rubbery. In our office, Min's the party police. No escaping a slice." Beth had plastered on a pleasant expression, as she chewed with effort two inches of frosting and some seriously lumpy bites.
Mouth puckering at the memory, she looks up. Mick's smirk has her laughing again. "This birthday did not go under the radar as I'd hoped."
"I brought you something else," he says. His eyes are mischievous, as he pulls an item from his coat. Leading her to the sofa, Mick fans his hand in a stop gesture before she can argue. "Take it. I didn't buy it." He plunks it in her lap.
Beth shoots him a suspicious look.
Iridescent peach paper with a thin blue ribbon, the package is small and inviting. She gives it a gentle shake before pulling the strings and ripping it open.
"It was my grandma's," Mick explains. You like it, don't you? Grandpa gave it to me. Pass it on some day, Nana had said, pressing it into his palm when he'd eyed the barrette at the age of ten. He's kept it all this time. It isn't fancy, just a shiny bauble of multicoloured stones in a double spiral pattern. But, with his family alive only in memories, it's more than precious to him.
"It's very unique-and gorgeous," Beth gushes, leaning over and giving him a lengthy kiss. "But you've kept it all these years. It's from your past. This is too important to give away." She holds it out to him.
Mick shakes his head. "Keep it. You're my future. Nothing's more important."
She hugs him tightly. "You are the best part of this birthday."
"Try it on," he encourages.
Beth grins, getting up and shuffling over to her desk mirror. Grabbing a handful of bright, golden locks in her fist, she mulls over a placement. Examining her image from right to left, Beth notes that grey hairs have spontaneously sprouted at her temples again. She's her mother—skin, eyes, cheekbones—but it was her father who'd gone grey early. "Would you clip it in?" Beth asks, noting mentally to pick up another dye bottle of Honey Sunrise #24.
Mick frowns. He'd worn leather gloves to wrap the clip. "Sorry," he says, "but, it's silver," wanting nothing more than to fasten it in her silky hair, then trail down that beautiful neck with his tongue and two points. Silver is poisonous, making him ill with the slightest touch.
"It's okay." Beth replies and puts it in herself. Sliding back onto the couch, she's determined to show him how much she appreciates it. Pulling at her blouse buttons and exposing a creamy shoulder, she says, "Will you promise me something?"
"Mmm," Mick mutters. Frosty white has taken over his irises and sharp teeth brush feather-light against her collarbone, leaving no marks or cuts.
Beth whispers her one birthday wish before they make love.
He nods. Then with a tug, her satin shirt falls away, and it's back to the matter at hand.