made of yourself, but for what you are making of me.
I love you for the part of me that you bring out.
—Roy Croft
(Photo collage at the end includes photos of home: grand hall, sitting room, library, office, dining room, recreation room, exercise room, theater room, and indoor pool. Also included are wedding photos: of ceremony, reception, with cake, talking with guests, and dancing. There are a few of Fiji, the private island where the couple stayed, the beach, infinity pool, lounging decks, and outdoor shower.)
Claire read the copy and imagined the photos that would be inserted. It truly appeared perfect.
Three days later, on the eighteenth of March, Tony surprised Claire with a long weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe. The beautiful snowy mountains filled with skiing, roaring fires, and hot coffee made for a great escape. The ski resort, literally a mile above sea level, had crystal-clear air that permeated deep into their lungs. The mountains provided the most amazing skiing with over a hundred inches of base and freshly fallen powder. The tall majestic evergreens bowed to the weight of the snow that layered each branch. Their small private chalet held amazing views, warm fires, and no cook. For the first time in a year, despite limited supplies Claire managed to keep them from starving. With the intensity of their exercise, both indoors and out, she was pleased he liked her cooking. A while ago she’d heard some advice. Eating is important to keep up their strength.
Warm, naked, and covered with a soft blanket, she rested her head against his chest. Claire contemplated the significance of this weekend as they rested in the afterglow of their love and the glow of fireplace. Three hundred and sixty-six days ago she’d been a different person in a different life. It wasn’t that her life now was bad. It was just that the transition had been unplanned, unwanted, and well, brutal. She needed to hear her husband’s answer to the question that lingered in her mind. “Tony, why are we here this weekend?”
They both watched the crackling blaze, his strong arms encircled her petite body, and he took a deep breath and replied, “I didn’t want you home in your suite this weekend. I wanted you outside in fresh air.” He felt her chest lift then drop and heard the soft sniffles. Damn, the crying was what he’d been trying to avoid. Nuzzling his face in her hair, he kissed her head. “If it hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t be here now. There is a reason for everything.”
He tenderly turned her to face him and then rolled her over onto her back. Her blonde hair fanned out onto the rug like a halo. He looked down at her angelic face. Even with the moisture, her eyes were stunning. The tears only made the green more intense in the firelight. Tony couldn’t help himself, she was beautiful and he wanted her. His bare chest pushed against her supple breasts. He caressed her pink cheeks and her soft shoulders as he looked into her eyes. “I’m not sorry that we are together, but I am so sorry when I think about . . . remember the things I—”
Claire stopped him. Shaking her head no, she put her hand to his mouth. He stopped talking and kissed her hand, gently sucking the tips of her fingers. “Please, Tony. Don’t. I don’t want to remember or think about that.” Her voice sounded amazingly steady despite the tears that now streamed from the corners of her eyes. “I want to think about now.”
“But you should know—”
“All I know is that I love you today. I hated you then. It is too much of a contrast for my mind to accept. I want to concentrate on today.”
“I love you today too. Tell me what I can do to help. Claire, anything you want, it is yours.”
He couldn’t take away her memories. That was what she wanted more than anything. “I want you. I want you to love me and fill me with so many good memories that I don’t have room for the others.” She kissed her husband. “Tony, fill me completely.”
Claire wasn’t thinking. Her body was in control; more accurately, out of control, moving in sync with desire. She didn’t think, because she feared if she did it would be about the past and not the present. Instead, she surrendered her body and her mind to her husband. There was a time she’d tried to keep her mind, but no longer. He possessed them both.
His lips found her soft skin and watched as her eyes responded. He wanted to see the spark, to have it be there. Briefly he thought about the saying the end justifies the means. If that were true, then he wasn’t sorry. In his arms, beneath his body, responding to his touch, was the woman he’d watched for so long. He suckled her hard nipples, and she moaned deeply, wanting—no, needing him. At that moment and time, sorry was not at all what he was feeling.
Nothing improves memory more than trying to forget.
—Unknown author
Chapter 38