They were lovers before they ever touched, two hearts drawn apart and left alone in the darkness of night. Distant voices were they to each other, gentle words of trust and love and passion carried over the miles between them. In their hearts, a lifetime of experiences and compassion in a single, breathless glance.
It was more than they had ever known.
So long ago it seemed, when first they met, yet still so very close to their hearts. Every moment, every word and every glance was so real, so true and so right. It was a time they would always remember, a late summer day they would never forget.
The days and years had passed, a lifetime, it seemed. Now, still together after so many years, he often found himself thinking of how happy he was to have met her, how perfect and caring they were for each other. He never imagined he could feel so complete, so whole.
He walked smiling through the decorated halls of their home, which they built together through memories and love, toward a distant room in the eastern wing of the house.
A white room.
Looking upon the large, carved wooden double doors, he steadied himself and took a deep breath. She would be waiting for him, she had told him, somewhere special in the house, in one of her favorite places. Like this room, he thought.
He took hold of the brass door handles and slowly opened the doors into the beautiful room. The relaxing scent of roses and soft burning candles rolled over him. He smiled again, looking about the room and finding himself lost in its serene, warm glow. The walls and furniture were the purest white, beautiful ceramic or crystal vases held dozens of long-stemmed white roses, and in a small bucket of ice next to the large canopy bed rested a chilled bottle of white wine. Then he saw something else. The room was empty.
It was when he heard the music.
Down every hallway and through every room, the harmonic melody drifted in sweet, loving song. The familiar tones of her piano. His smile grew deeper by the moment. He loved to hear her play, and knew now where she was.
Moving back down the hallway away from the white room, he followed the sound of the music toward the center of the large house. An elevated catwalk ran along the face of the second floor above the living and dining rooms below. He moved to stand above the entrance of the long dining area and peered down. Her song filled their home.
Nearly directly below him, she sat at her piano on the first floor, playing and smiling, her eyes closed and her alluring amber hair falling all about her. He listened with a warm heart to her talent and her song. He watched her fingers gently caress the ivory keys, watched her mouth breathe a silent invitation; for somehow, he thought, she knew he was watching her.
Her back was to him as she played, one hand moving to draw her soft hair over one shoulder, revealing the smooth white skin of her neck. How beautiful she looked, he admitted; how his heart raced every time he looked at her. She was truly the one love he had searched his life over to find. She was his reason and his life now, as she would always remain to be, for the rest of his days.
He descended a long spiraling staircase further down the catwalk and quietly came up behind her, the flowing waves of her song capturing his every thought. A silent sigh escaped his throat as he raised his hands to her bare shoulders and felt her soft skin warm under his touch.
She smiled and continued playing.
He slid his hands slowly down her back and gently kissed the nape of her neck and shoulders. Her skin was smooth and tender under his lips, and now her sigh matched his.
"I've been waiting for you," she breathed as she played.
"I've found you," said he, kissing her still.
She sighed again. "Do you still want me?"
"More every day," he said without hesitation. "I love you."
"I love you," said she.
In all his life, he never felt such a surge in his heart than when he heard her say those words. He thought of the first day they met, that late summer day so instilled in their hearts. He thought of their first touch, their first kiss, their first embrace, and the first time they made love. He thought and he smiled. He thought and he sighed.
"I've always loved you," he told her in a breathless whisper, "since the day I met you. You are my life, you're everything to me. I would give you anything."
The music stopped.
"Anything?" she asked coyly, turning on her piano bench to look at him, her eyes sparkling, even in the low light.
He nodded sincerely. His eyes met hers in a deep and admiring stare, and they kissed. After many moments, their lips parted, and he looked once more into those beautiful eyes.
"Anything and everything," he answered her.
That night, the hours melting into one long, passionate embrace, they made love to last a lifetime. They made love with body and soul, with heart and word, together . . . as it was always meant to be.
Anything and everything.
A lifetime in a glance.
— C —
© Copyright 2010 C. D. Bennett
Visit Chris' blog at http://echoesofdusk.com