Seth decided that he needed to express his opinion in this chapter. This may be the end, although I am contemplating an epilogue. Thanks for reading and please leave me a review if you enjoyed it!
Chapter 6
Seth woke up before Jessica the next morning, when the room first became lighter. He knew she was still asleep, because he could hear her breathing deeply, and she had been in the exact same position all night, on her right side, holding his arm that was wrapped around her, with her back up against him. He was on his right side as well holding her, and he carefully moved his left hand to rest on her hip, feeling her warm and smooth skin. He wanted to groan as he touched her, but he stifled any sound. He would not wake her. She needed rest.
Instead, he opened his eyes, seeing her curly red hair and the crown of her head right below his face. Glancing lower, he could see the smooth skin of her shoulders, as they sloped down. He knew if he shifted just slightly, he would be able to see the tops of her breasts, and as much as he wanted to see them, he refused to take the risk of waking her, again opting to just hold her as she is right now.
Seth Hazlitt loved Jessica Beatrice MacGill Fletcher Hazlitt. But love was not an adequate word. Not when the word love was also used to describe enjoying a type of food or a choice of book or movie. No indeed. The emotion he felt for her was so strong that it often took his breath away when he looked at her. The passion and longing that he had felt for her for years was often painful and terrifying, especially as he had believed for so long that it was unrequited.
He knew that he had those same intense feelings of love for Ruth in the past, but the loss of her had robbed him of the passion and he was left with loneliness and grief and the memories of their love. He never liked to compare anyway. It was a fruitless exercise, especially as it did not matter. He loved Ruth more than words could ever express and he loved Jessica more than he could say as well. Similar feelings, but not. And both women at completely different times of his life.
Because unlike with Ruth, Jessica had been forbidden for years and years. Maybe forbidden wasn't a good word. Unattainable. For years, she was grieving Frank mightily. Then, once she got her bearings, she came into her own and seemed to revel in her independence and he was so proud of her for it, that he would never try to stifle her. He could see the pride she had in herself, and he never wanted her to feel as though he would take that away. No, in fact, her independence and self-assurance made her more attractive and lovable and he was privileged to witness it.
Instead, he had learned to love her while knowing there was a firm boundary in place that he would never cross. He did everything he possibly could to show her how he felt, all while never saying the words and certainly never making a move physically. He saw the society pages and heard her stories when she called him at night from whatever city she was in promoting her latest book. He knew there were other men, likely plying her with alcohol hoping to obtain her. He felt jealousy often, but he had years of practice at suppressing it and trying to ignore it.
He often felt wildly happy in her presence and wildly sad as well. He thought he had done a fairly good job over the years hiding the sadness, usually turning the focus to his cranky self when it would occur. Saying goodnight to her at her door while giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, when what he really wanted to do was back her up against the wall and kiss her senseless, he would feel the sadness overtake him, and he would try to shut it up by making one of his grumpy comments on his way out the door that would often gain him a smile or chuckle before she shut the door behind him.
But then a miracle happened and yet the miracle started as a nightmare. He would never forget that night walking into Jessica's house a month ago. It was dinner time and the downstairs was completely dark. He sensed when he walked in that something was terribly wrong, which is why he walked around calling for her, instead of assuming that she simply was not home.
Then, he heard her throw that book and as he climbed the stairs, he had such a terrible feeling of foreboding that just became worse when he saw her in bed, clearly in pain.
For the first time since that night, he let himself consider everything that happened. How he ran out to his car for his medical bag, coming back into her room out of breath. She had become almost incoherent that night, but still so stubborn by refusing to go to the hospital.
Then, as he examined her and worked through all of the differential diagnoses in his head and it became apparent that her issue was likely gynecological, he grappled with the ethical dilemma in his head. He was her doctor, yes. But she was his friend. More importantly, he was in love with her. He knew that and could admit it to himself, even if he had no intention of admitting it to her. Was he positive that her condition was likely gynecological? Because under no circumstance would he ever allow his subconscious to convince himself to touch her intimately if it wasn't absolutely necessary.
After what felt like an eternity of internal conflict, combined with the pain that was clearly etched on Jessica's face, he knew he had to do a pelvic exam. Or at least offer to unless she would finally allow him to take her to the hospital. He knew she wouldn't go to the hospital though, and when she said as much, he did feel reassured that she obviously trusted him enough to allow him to do the exam.
When he felt inside her and touched the mass pushing up against her ovary, all while hearing her cry out and begin to weep, he thought he would physically die of heartbreak. Through the years, he had kept his emotions and urges in check, but from time to time, he would dream about her, and waking, it was always hard not to think about her for a long while after. If he had ever hoped that he would one day touch her, it was never for a medical reason and certainly never to cause her pain. Oh, he had done his fair share of pap smears and delivering babies over his career, even unfortunately a number of D&Cs after miscarriages with the mothers crying on his table, but this was different. Because it was Jess. As he touched that mass, he felt as though he had touched death.
From that point on, until the pathologist came to say that it was a benign fibroid tumor, he went on auto-pilot. Making the decision that he would operate and he could and would do it, he took her to the hospital, got ready to do surgery just like he had done his whole career, getting his team ready to assist and focusing on the operation that he knew how to do.
When Jessica told him that she loved him just before it, he was elated, but he also knew that she was scared that she would die. Maybe not in surgery, but certainly as a result if it was indeed cancer. So, while he loved hearing her words and giving her that amazing kiss, he also did his best not to hope too much.
Then, once the pathology results came back, he started to breathe again and the tightness in his chest started to lessen. The miracle happened when he realized that Jess was not backing down and instead seemed more committed to having a relationship with him. Wondering if she was on too much pain medication those first few hours, he worried that it was all a dream for her, that it would become a depressing memory for him. But as the time went on and her mood and cognitive function remained normal, he began to hope.
Taking her home and having her propose was one of the most thrilling things to ever happen to him. All while holding her nude warm body on the edge of the tub. She was gorgeous! He tried not to look, but she didn't seem to mind either. She was getting more comfortable with him, exhibiting an ease with him that he was overwhelmed by, but in the best way possible.
Moving into her bedroom, which was now theirs, and taking care of her those first few days were amazing. Caretaking was not something he had done since Ruth and in Ruth's case, there had been little to no hope. With Jess though, she was going to get better and that realization made him feel exhilarated, giving him energy he had not felt in years. Normally, being a doctor, he would enter a room, make a diagnosis and treatment plan, and then leave it to the nurses, techs, therapists, and pharmacists to execute. Being at home with her every day, cooking and cleaning and helping her bathe, it had been such a privilege to be able to care for her. A way to show her with every single action how much he loved and cared for her.
He was surprised that she wanted to marry at the courthouse, but he had no objection. He just wanted her to be his. Not in a possessive way, but for his identity and sense of self. He needed her like he needed oxygen and now as his wife, he knew how to define it and how to think about them as a partnership together. He knew it was old-fashioned, and perhaps needy, but he couldn't help it. Having Jessica as his wife meant that they were promised to each other. And he knew with their values that their commitment would be until death parted them. Even as he had that thought, he felt his chest tighten, knowing that whoever had to go through that experience for the second time would be truly nauseating. Selfishly, he hoped he went first. But even as that crossed his mind, he felt ashamed. No, Jess could not go through that pain again. He did not think he could either, but he would rather that than his beloved to ever have to be a grieving widow again. It startled him to realize that wanting to save her from that pain, meant that he knew on some level how much he meant to her.
They still hadn't told anyone yet about their marriage. Oh Mort knew, but with her recovery and the fact that they couldn't make love at first, it had needed to be kept quiet. He knew that would end the moment they returned home in a week though.
He stifled a chuckle as he considered how seductive his wife had become, trying to entice him before she was well enough. He knew that she thought he was a saint or something equally ridiculous, especially when he stopped her that night from him climaxing. It had been a long time for him, too, but he knew the first few weeks after her surgery, it was not safe for her and he would not risk her for his own pleasure. It would be like cutting out his own heart if he hurt her.
Hurting her that night when he had to do the pelvic exam would remain in his mind forever, and he never wanted to repeat that, even though he knew logically it was her body that was causing her pain, not him. No pleasure was worth hurting the woman that made his life have meaning. Even though there was a humming below the surface of arousal and desire, ever since this intimate time of living together had begun, and seeing her get in and out of the tub everyday was always a risky time, he held his impulses in check. Not because he was any type of saint, but because she was.
Two nights ago, finally being able to make love to her, was one of the happiest times in his life. It was so difficult to not bawl like a baby in her arms afterwards. She was so beautiful, sexy, and sensuous. Feeling her body respond to him and him having the ability to push her over the edge into ecstasy was intoxicating. Last night, when she allowed him to pleasure her in the most intimate of ways, it was simply astounding. He did not have words to describe how delightful she was to him.
He had been concerned last night that she was trying to do too much. He had watched her like a hawk all day and even with the ibuprofen, she was walking a lot slower and she was more hesitant when changing position. Even when she would cast her fishing pole, he could see that her motion was less fluid than usual. That was enough for him to curb his desire, and remind himself that he had waited for years and he could wait another day or two. He wondered though, how she would feel today. Gazing back down at her hair and her neck, he allowed himself to feel his desire flare. He needed her and he wanted her. More than anything. As wonderful as making love already was with her, he also knew that just as much as he desired the physical act with her, he gained so much pleasure in simply feeling her warm body against him. Holding her, touching her skin, kissing her, whispering words of love and care, those things were sometimes just as erotic as the act of making love.
He was a blessed man and he would never forget it. He really did not have many religious beliefs. Not after Ruth died and he muddled through parenting their daughter, failing her often. But he knew that whatever caused him to have the love of this woman in his arms, he was grateful to it. And he would take care of her until his dying day.
She began to stir in his arms as she stretched her arms out in front of her, groaning as he heard a joint or two pop, causing him to chuckle.
"What's funny? Just because I pop doesn't mean I'm old."
"I would never dare think that."
She turned in his arms, looking up at him through her lashes. As had been happening almost every morning since he had come into her bed, she would often turn in his arms to gaze at him, causing him to swear his heart skipped a beat and his breathing would become shallow. Jess, the woman he loved more than anything. This time, he couldn't stop the tears. Probably because he had allowed himself to truly feel the emotion of the past month this morning, recalling all the fear and terror along with the excitement and love. Seeing her beautiful face and holding her in his arms, knowing she had recovered, he was overcome. He could not stop it, nor did he try. He understood that he needed to get these emotions out and he could see her eyes soften as she wrapped her arms tightly around him.
"Oh, Seth, everything is alright, my love. This isn't a dream. We are married and I am well now. And I am never ever letting you go. You are going to be sick of me before long!" she said as she giggled in his ear.
"Never," he whispered, as tears continued to fall.
She held him, as he wept in her arms.
Later, they spent a long time touching and caressing each other's bodies, giving light massages and kisses, causing groans and sighs to be voiced. Neither tried to go further, instead just focusing on holding each other close and whispering words of love and comfort. They understood that they were safe in each other's arms.
After a long time, he pulled her close, and they started to doze. There would be time for fishing later.
