CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The carriage ride to the hotel took only minutes and soon they were seated at the corner table Hank had reserved. Each table had a small lamp in the centre, turned low to create an intimate atmosphere and a group of musicians played soft classical music at the far side of the restaurant where there was an open area for dancing.
With the setting, the atmosphere and everything else about the evening being so vastly different from anything they'd done together before, Hank wondered whether things would seem uncomfortable, whether they would still be able to talk to each other. However, by the time he had ordered some wine and they had both chosen from the menu, things were easier than they had ever been, with nothing hanging over them like there always had been before. No Clarice or Horace in the way, no contract between them, nothing except each other. They chatted, laughed, sampled tidbits from each other's plates and after a leisurely cup of coffee even danced a little until Hank ran out of energy and his shoulder began to hurt too much, without the support of the sling.
It was after eleven o'clock by the time they climbed into one of the hotel carriages to travel home. Myra sat on Hank's left side and he slid his arm around her, hugging her tightly against him.
"It was a wonderful evening," she sighed. "I almost wish it hadn't ended."
"Ain't yet," Hank grinned. "Still gotta kiss ya." He turned slightly on the seat, lowering his head towards her. She raised her hand to touch his face and his mouth covered hers. She responded heatedly, as eager as he was and they didn't break apart until the carriage halted in front of the house minutes later.
Hank tipped the driver and they walked up to the front door hand in hand, no longer having anything to say, but content just to be in each other's company. Myra made some more coffee and they snuggled on the sofa in the drawing room for a while, until exhaustion caught up with Hank and he reluctantly decided to call it a night. He kissed Myra once more and went upstairs, leaving her putting away the coffee cups.
In Myra's room he took off shoes, coat, vest and shirt, then leaned out of the window and smoked a cigar, listening to the faint sounds of Myra climbing the stairs, opening and closing the bathroom door, then coming out again. He tossed the remains of the cigar out of the window and went to open the bedroom door.
"Hey."
She was on the landing, wearing a prim-looking white nightgown, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked barely older than the first time he'd seen her, stealing apples from the store in Denver.
"Ya know, ya should be sleepin' in yer own room," he said with a smirk.
"And you should be getting some rest," Myra replied, biting her lip in an effort to suppress a smile.
"Don't ya wanna keep me company?"
"I do, but..."
"Ya think you oughtn't in yer sister's house, or 'cause it's been a long time or somethin'?"
"I'm being silly," said Myra.
"No, you ain't. But when I said company, that's all I meant. Much as I hate to admit it, even to you, I ain't up to no foolin' about just yet. Wanna wake up with ya, though. Don't wanna let ya outta my sight till I'm forced to."
"Alright," Myra said softly.
He stepped back and let her past him into the room, then pushed the door closed. Myra slid into the bed and he quickly took his pants off, leaving his underwear on.
"Scoot over, I'm gonna have to lay on my left side," he told her. She shuffled over and lay on her back, watching as he put the lamp out and then climbed into the bed.
Hank slid his left arm under Myra's neck, resting his right carefully across her stomach, his face close to hers on the pillow. After a moment she turned over to face away from him, her body resting in his arms, fitting perfectly against his. Hank brushed his lips against her ear and then pressed his face into her neck. She smelled of that French perfume.
"God, I missed ya so much," he groaned.
"I missed you too," she murmured, covering his hand with hers where it rested just below her breasts.
"Don't ever leave me again, will ya?"
"I won't. I promise. I love you, Hank."
He still found it difficult to believe that he wasn't in the middle of a dream that he was going to wake up from at any minute. The last few hours had been perfect - better than perfect - but part of him still feared it wouldn't last, that she would suddenly decide she had made a mistake, tell him there was no future for them. It annoyed him to find himself so unsure and lacking in confidence, but he had endured so much rejection in the past it was impossible not to worry it would happen again.
"What're we gonna do when I have to go home?" he asked.
"I don't know, this has all been so quick I haven't had time to think about it," she said.
"Me neither. I'd rather not go back at all, but I'm gonna have to. Jake'll be goin' crazy about now," he said ruefully.
"Why don't you stay for Christmas?" suggested Myra. "It's only a few days away."
"Ain't ya gotta cook for the poor or somethin'?"
"No, I was just going to help serving and so on. I'd rather be cooking Christmas dinner here, for you and Samantha." She glanced over her shoulder at him in the dim light and grinned suddenly. "Besides, I don't think you should be spending two days on a train just yet. The doctor would probably advise against it. You still have to get your stitches taken out too."
"Mmm, forgot about that." Hank kissed her cheek softly. "I guess yer right. If I ain't up to foolin' around, long journey's gonna be far too much for me. Jake's probably gonna put another bullet in me when I get back, ya realise."
"I thought you said he was in love with the school teacher? Don't you think he'll have other things to keep him occupied?"
"Yeah, I guess he does. I got other things to keep me occupied too, bein' in love with the assistant bank manager, an' all."
Hank hugged her tighter and closed his eyes, wondering exactly what their future would bring. Would Myra ever come back to Colorado Springs? Would he leave the Gold Nugget behind and move to St Louis? So long as they were together, he guessed it didn't matter. He fell asleep still thinking about it and hours later, woke to see sunlight shining through the curtains, Myra still lying in his arms. She had rolled over in the night and was facing him. She opened her eyes after a moment and looked into his.
"Mornin'," he said with a grin.
She smiled back and gave him a light kiss. "Better get up, I have to go and collect Samantha." She drew away from him and slid out of the bed. "I'll make some breakfast. Do you want it up here?"
"No, I'll come down." Hank rolled over onto his back and stretched his right arm carefully. It was feeling much better and the wound was healing well with no further need for the bandages. He decided to call on the doctor later to see if the stitches could come out.
After breakfast, Myra went to fetch Samantha and Hank went to the hospital. The doctor confirmed there was no reason for him to visit again and removed the stitches within a few minutes. He returned to the house and spent the rest of the weekend with Myra and Samantha, going to the park together, playing games in the house, taking turns at reading to the little girl.
For the first time in his life, Hank felt as if he were part of a real family and he began to realise even more that it was something he had longed for, but never really thought seriously about. Now he saw what the rest of his life could be like. If he married Myra it could be like this every day. Maybe they'd even have a child together; they weren't yet too old, Myra was only thirty-five. He found himself grinning suddenly. Not so very long ago the thought of marriage probably would have scared the hell out of him and now all it did was tie him in knots as he wondered if he should ask her, when he should ask her. Was it too soon? He'd known her almost eighteen years, but despite that it was only two days since they really talked and opened up to each other.
Eventually he decided it would be better to wait a little, at least until he had the opportunity to get a ring first. It needn't be a long time. He would go back to Colorado Springs after Christmas, maybe stay a week or two and then come back. Loren and Jake would never let him hear the end of it, he thought with a smirk. They'd certainly have plenty to say if they could see him now, behaving so differently from the way they knew him to be.
"What are you grinning at?" Myra asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.
"Uh, nothin' much. Just thinkin' I never thought we'd end up here. I mean together."
"I didn't either," said Myra. "I'm going to hate it when you go home."
"That's somethin' else I was thinkin'. How short a time I can get away with bein' there before I can come back."
"Maybe we should forget about that until after Christmas," reasoned Myra.
"Yeah, good idea."
The weekend seemed to be over all too quickly, but Myra only had to work Monday. Tuesday was Christmas Eve and the bank closed for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Hank reluctantly decided to leave for Colorado Springs on Thursday when Myra went back to the bank after the short break, but in the meantime he intended to make the most of Christmas.
On Monday he slipped out in the morning and purchased two extra gifts for Myra, a pink silk nightgown and another bottle of the French perfume, which he noticed was down to its last few drops, then after she finished work they spent the afternoon shopping, buying presents for Samantha and food for Christmas dinner. The doll's pram Hank had bought was already wrapped and hidden in Myra's room. Later they went out again and bought a Christmas tree from the general store which had a forest of them standing outside the front windows. Hank put it up in the drawing room and they decorated it together with bright baubles and stars and ribbons. Then the pile of gifts was stacked beneath it, including a couple of parcels with Hank's name on which had mysteriously appeared.
Myra spent a good portion of Christmas Eve preparing food - measuring, mixing, frying and baking while Hank entertained Samantha. It was too cold for her to play outside so he read to her and played with some small carved animals she had in her collection of toys. After she went to bed, Hank and Myra snuggled on the sofa in front of a roaring fire, each looking forward to Christmas Day with excitement, more than they ever had before. They went to bed early, Myra changing into her nightgown in the room Samantha slept in and then returning to her own room to join Hank as she had each night since Friday.
Hank woke in the early hours of the morning, disturbed by a sound along the landing. The bedroom door was ajar and he drew away from Myra who was still sleeping as Samantha let out a cry.
"Mama!"
He considered waking Myra, but she looked so peaceful that he left her there and got up to go to the little girl himself. She was sitting up in her small low bed, clutching her rabbit, sucking her thumb and snuffling. Hank crouched down beside her.
"Hey, Samantha, what's the matter?" he asked. "Can't ya sleep?"
Her thumb popped out of her mouth and she looked at him from wide eyes.
"Uncle Hank? Where's Mama?"
"She's sleepin'. Want me to go get her?"
Samantha shook her head solemnly. "Will you tell me a story?"
"Sure," Hank said, wondering what on earth he was going to tell her. No one had ever told him stories, except for Nana when he was really young and then she mostly told them in Norwegian. Samantha lay down again and he tucked the quilt around her, then sat down on the floor.
"Once there was a boy called Hans," he began. "He had twin brothers a few years older." He made up a comical story about himself getting in trouble for some minor misdemeanour, being sent to his room and his brothers sneaking food to him wrapped in a napkin. By the time he got to the part where he was tucking into the cold snack, Samantha was fast asleep and he tiptoed out of the room and back to Myra. She rolled over as he slid into the bed.
"Sorry, did I wake ya?"
"No, I woke when you went out. I heard you talking," she said softly.
"Samantha wanted a story," he told her.
"You read her a story?" Myra said in amazement.
"No, I made one up."
"You're wonderful with her, Hank." She slid closer to kiss him. "I always thought that, right from that time I came to the saloon in the middle of the night when she wouldn't stop crying."
"She's a sweet kid," he whispered.
He drew Myra closer to him and kissed her again and this time he didn't stop. The shoulder was still sore, but he seemed to have recovered the majority of his strength and certainly his enthusiasm. He pulled Myra harder against him, his tongue plunging into her mouth, hands stroking over her body. She was no less enthusiastic than he and within moments they were tearing at each other's nightwear, breathing hard, moaning in frustration as fabric and buttons got in the way. Over excitement and long abstinence meant things ended as abruptly as they began, but afterwards they made love more slowly, taking time to kiss and touch and savour every moment. They finally slept again as dawn came, disturbed barely an hour later by Samantha calling out.
Hank opened his eyes reluctantly and looked down at Myra lying in his arms, her head resting on his chest.
"Hey." He stroked his hand over her hair and she raised her head and met his eyes. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Hank." Her lips brushed his.
"Mama!" Samantha shouted persistently.
I'm coming, honey!" Myra slid away from him and out of the bed.
Hank grinned, watching appreciatively as she walked around the bed naked to retrieve her nightgown which was lying in a heap in one corner of the room. She pulled it on quickly, giggling softly, then left the room to attend to Samantha. Hank stretched out in the bed for a moment, unable to wipe the grin off his face as he relived the events of the night. Then he reluctantly got out of the bed and began to get dressed. Only one more day and he would have to leave. He intended to make the most of every minute.