The Gift of the Twin Houses Page 17

  “Sarah—”

  “Everything I feel about you is new, and I don’t know how. well. Anyway, what happened so long ago wasn’t fear of intimacy. It was fear of my extrasensory capacities. I didn’t want my fiance, or anyone else, to know about the abnormal connections I felt. So I did sort of distance myself.”

  “ OK, but—”

  “Growing up with this kind of supernatural stuff around me had a completely different effect from what you experienced with Angela.”

  “I get that.”

  “I kept it well under wraps. No one could even guess. So, in time it evolved into what he so aptly called fear of intimacy. I just couldn’t get close to anyone, afraid I would be discovered and cause pain and anguish as it had done when I was little. So I distanced myself.. .I’m not sure I can—”

  “No need to fear that with me.”

  “ I know. I’m not afraid of that anymore.”

  “Then what? We can wait until we’re married.”

  “Oh, it’s not that either. Believe me it’s not about time or a piece of paper that says it’s OK to have sex.”

  “Well, what is it? I’m at a loss here.”

  “It’s about.. .well.. .I don’t want to disappoint you.. What if.. .what if.. .I can’t go through with it? Or worse, what if you don’t like me? Now you’ve asked me to marry you and you’ve told the kids, and if you don’t like me, if I don’t satisfy you sexually, after all, I’ve no experience.. .well.. .you’re stuck with me, and then.. .well, then.. .there’s no way out, and you’re trapped.”

  Smiling, he walked toward me. I tried to stop him again, but he just kept walking.

  “You can’t stop me,” he said. “You know I can’t resist kissing away your fears when you frown and pucker your lips.”

  He caressed my forehead and kissed it and then kissed his way down my nose till he found my mouth. His kiss was gentle, and I was aware of the delicate pulsations that conveyed his love and devotion.

  “Stop tormenting yourself or I’ll keep kissing you until the frowning goes away, or until we stop all these worrisome thoughts of yours.”

  He then kissed me long and hard.

  “But Conrad, I’m a. a virgin.”

  He kissed me again with such passion that my knees buckled.

  “There is nothing on this earth that will ever make me change my mind.”

  Then he gently lifted my chin toward him and kissed me so softly that it felt as if the most delicious, sweet, soft butter was melting between our lips. It was exquisite.

  “I love you, Sarah, more than I ever thought possible. I’ve never felt as deeply about anyone as I feel about you. Don’t ask me to explain why or how come because I wouldn’t know what to say. I’m trying to get a handle on it myself. I just know that when I’m with you, I’m whole, I’m alive, I’m excited. There’s something about you that penetrated my senses and my soul from the first time I laid eyes on you, and since then, it’s taken over me. There isn’t anything that will ever make me change my mind about wanting to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  Our kiss this time was more penetrating—a kiss hungry for the full submission of our bodies.

  I gathered all my courage and led him toward the bed, my legs trembling with every step.

  “C’mon, then,” I whispered, “let’s dive into it and live with the consequences. Whatever they may be. No matter what happens, it’s better if you know what you are getting into before we get married.”

  “You’re sure? No need to rush to prove anything.”

  “I’m sure. Just remember, I don’t know.. .well I’ve no idea what to do to... how to.. .well.. .to give you pleasure. I might fail miserably. How about that for a consequence?”

  “The consequences will be what we make of them. We want to be together, don’t we?

  “Yes, but—”

  “No more buts. And more important, no need to force anything between us.” He smiled while caressing my cheek.

  I knew I needed to plunge into it and should take the initiative to let him know he could move forward, so I unbuttoned his shirt and caressed his muscular chest. Pure delight rushed through me. I felt myself relax as he quietly unbuttoned my blouse. When we shed our upper garments, we held each other in a warm, delicious embrace, the feel of our exposed skin penetrating our consciousness.

  His hands gently explored my bare arms, my back, and my sides, and as they caressed my skin, they conveyed pleasurable shivers through all of me. His touch felt velvety soft, filled with tenderness and sincerity, and I allowed myself the pleasure of giving into the sensations without concern or embarrassment. I didn’t recoil when he reached my breasts. He caressed them, cupped them, and kissed them with such gentleness that I felt like a precious gem in the hands of its greatest admirer. He simply made me feel beautiful, sensual.

  We shed the rest of our clothes and lay down on the bed. Strappingly virile, his entire being emanated strength and forcefulness, yet his touch was as soothing as the petal of a rose. With kisses and caresses we explored each other’s bodies, admiring their uniqueness, their imperfections, their peaks, and their valleys. We danced to the song of love, having found our own rhythm and cadence, accompanied by the melody of his voice as he whispered, “I love you,” or “You’re so beautiful,” or plainly, “Sarah, my Sarah.”

  I remember murmuring his name and whispering that I loved him, my chorus to his beautiful song.

  “You may hurt a bit when I come in,” he said. “I’ll be gentle, but let me know if it’s too much.”

  And it wasn’t. For a second I did feel tightness, but immediately it gave way to a perfect cuddle. I relaxed into the sensation of togetherness, of oneness, and as we moved in unison, our breathing joined in.

  I could feel him going in and out, a caress within me, and with each thrust my contractions increased, hungry to possess every bit, devouring his manhood. He knew I wanted all of him, and at once he responded by sliding his arm under my lower back, and pulling me toward him as he thrust inward, deeper and deeper each time. I not only fully admitted him, but with each thrust I pulled him toward the deepest recesses of my being.

  Together we reached the peak of pleasure, of immense joy, of utter delight.

  Afterward we cried, in silence, holding each other tightly, unwilling to let go of the intimacy of our love and passion.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for giving me the gift of the purity of your body.”

  All I could do was sigh.

  We lay in each other’s arms savoring the memory of our first time, enjoying the warmth our bodies shared.

  “Sex is a lot better than I ever imagined.”

  “This wasn’t sex, Sarah; this was love.” He drew me closer.

  I buried my head in his chest so that I could experience his scent again. It was intoxicating. I found something beyond appealing about his smell. When he’d reached climax, it had changed. His breath had become a bit colder, and his scent turned muskier, a combination that increased my reaction and propelled me through my own climax.

  “What a deep sigh,” he said. “What about?”

  “Thinking of us. I hope you’re right that nothing can keep us apart.” “Still doubtful?”

  “I can’t help it. I sense there’s something stirring, something unaddressed.” “Just promise me one thing. No more running away from me.”

  “I won’t run away, but I might need you to.. .well, I don’t really know what.”

  “Good. Angela never ran away again either.”

  We laughed, and for the first time in my life, I enjoyed the shared intimacy, the feeling of total and complete surrender of my defenses, of absolute trust.

  “So, when do you think we should tie the knot?” he asked.

  “Whenever you wish, but the sooner the better. I don’t want to be apart from you. Without you I’m bound to craft horror stories and shy away from whatever Angela has in mind for me.”

  “How abou
t if we marry between Christmas and New Year’s?”

  “What do you think Tom and Alyana would say to that?”

  “I ran it by Tom, and he’s all for it. I’m sure Alyana will be OK. We can ask them later. Anyway, it takes three days to get a marriage license here in Washington, and we’ll need to decide on the ceremony.”

  “I like it. Our Decembers will be filled with fun celebrations.”

  “I thought, if it’s all right with you, we should give my house to Tom and Alyana for Christmas, and we could live at your place. OK if I move in with you?”

  First, I covered him with kisses, and then I slowed down enough to speak. “Thank you for not asking me to leave my house, and thank you, thank you, for bringing the family close to us. With Alyana’s baby on the way, she’ll have her hands full, and I’d like to help her. They’re such a wonderful couple, and I love their little ones.”

  “How about if we help them move in before the ceremony?”

  “Before? Wow. That’s fast. I don’t know. I really don’t. Could we do so much in such little time?” I answered with extreme preoccupation at my inability to even guess what we, the couple, should do. I could feel the old worrisome Sarah breaking through.

  “You’re so darn cute with your worries.” He kissed my nose. “C’mon, let’s go find something to eat, and we’ll celebrate our union while we plan the wedding. I’m starving.”

  “Oh no. We’ll have dinner all right, but we’ll celebrate our union in our home. It’s the decent thing to do for her.”

  He just laughed and kissed the tip of my nose again. I loved it when he did that. It made me feel like a charming, coquettish young girl. Isn’t it wonderful how a gesture can evoke such feelings of adolescence and happiness? Well, it did the trick, and all my worries disappeared. At least for the moment.

  By the time we got dressed, the snow had stopped falling, and we made our way down the block to the restaurant.

  Conrad called Tom and Alyana to reassure them that all was well. He asked them to join us for Sunday brunch to plan the wedding together.

  As usual, we eased into effortless conversation as we sipped a glass of wine, ate a simple dinner of meat and potatoes, and enjoyed the background Christmas music.

  “It felt so good, I can’t imagine why I feared it so.”

  “I’m relieved I didn’t hurt you, this being your first time.”

  “No, it didn’t hurt at all. Actually, it felt delicious. Some time back, a friend of mine got married after being a widow for many years. She felt embarrassed to ask her doctor, a man, if she needed something or if she could even do it. So I offered to ask my own doctor, given that she’s a woman. My doctor said that when women, young or old, go without sex for years, their bodies react to renewed lovemaking as if they were adolescents. She told me that she had many women patients who had that very reaction to sex even in their golden years, because it’s all about the emotion of love and desire for one’s partner. It stimulates the hormones, even in us older types, and the body reacts accordingly. It certainly worked for me at my age. Go figure.”

  “What age? And you’re not ‘an older type.’ You’re perfect.”

  “All your doing. I certainly feel young with you.”

  “So do I.”

  After dinner, hand in hand, we took a nice short walk, enjoying the peace and quiet that a cold night brings after a snowstorm. We decided that it made no sense to wait till Christmas for him to move in with me, so as soon as we got back home, we would bring his things over to my house—or rather, to our house.

  We spent the night ensconced in our charming Bavarian room, cuddled in each other’s arms under the warmth of the comforter, and made love every time we woke. I used to think it impossible to actually fall asleep in the arms of another person. It looked nice in the movies, but the skeptical Sarah thought it would be uncomfortable. Nice to prove her wrong.

  Bright and early the next morning, we went downstairs to breakfast, and I felt as if the entire world knew what had happened and envied me. We walked into the restaurant, hand in hand, a couple in love, a radiant twosome, comfortable with the intimacy between us, and exuding such bliss that everyone in the restaurant turned to look at us and smiled. We smiled back.

  We went back to our room to gather our belongings, and as we reached the door, Conrad turned to me and smiled. “One more time?”

  “One more time.”

  And, like adolescents, trying to grasp the very last opportunity before going home, we took off—well, we practically tore off each other’s clothes, jumped on the bed laughing, and had an unforgettable quickie.

  Chapter 21

  The Twin House

  Slowly, we made our way back home. Conrad followed me in his truck, closely watching over me. The roads were covered with snow, and the plows continued to push it aside. How stupid I’d been, and how relieved I felt now that Conrad had rescued me from my own folly. In these weather conditions, I don’t know if I could’ve made the trip back on my own without the reassurance of his presence behind me.

  We were stopped several times while they cleared the roads. By the time we got home, the evening shadows of early winter nights made their presence known. We were starving, so we first prepared a quick meal by reheating the leftover chicken and shared our bliss with our house. We told her Conrad would be moving in, and she communicated her joy with her familiar cracks and cricks.

  After dinner, we made our way to Conrad’s house to pick up a few things.

  As we entered, I sensed that his house wanted me to be aware of the memories that were important to him and needed to be cared for along with those of her twin.

  Understanding what had been requested of me, I told him, “I’m sure there are mementos, furniture, photographs, and special items you’d like to take with you from here.”

  “Would you believe I haven’t thought of that?” He stopped in the middle of the living room. “I’d have to mull it over, but right now, other than my personal belongings, some photographs, and knickknacks I like, most of everything else should remain here with Tom and Alyana. You’ll see their little home in a few days when we go for Christmas Day. It’s pretty sparse. They’d been waiting to buy a home, so they’ve been saving up.”

  “Why didn’t they move into my house when they married? It remained empty, didn’t it?”

  “They were not the ones destined for that house. You were. ..we were, you and I, now that I think on it. C’mon, let’s go upstairs to my room to get a few things.”

  I’d never been to the upstairs of this house, of Angela and Richard’s home. I walked behind Conrad with trepidation, not wanting to disturb the history it held, worried that somehow it might disapprove of my taking Conrad away. But soon I realized I had nothing to worry about—the house didn’t object. She understood the path we were taking to be the correct one, the one destined to be.

  The upstairs displayed much of Angela and a good deal of Richard, Conrad, and Tom. There were feminine traces here and there, but since Angela’s absence, the masculine tones were more vivid and palpable, and I understood Alyana’s comment about the feel of this house. Manly overtones permeated every room, a clear continuum in space and time of the influence of Leonard, its designer, builder, and first inhabitant. How he’d been able to achieve masculine tones for his house and feminine ones for Louise’s remained part of the puzzle. Perhaps the result of his devotion to her.

  Conrad’s bedroom had been his grandparents’ at one point and, I imagined, Leonard’s. It was furnished beautifully by a double bed with stunning wood head and footboards, late 1880s by my estimation. The armoire and dresser were of the same period and the same type of wood, as were the small table, the rocking chair, and the two armchairs. I stood mesmerized by the simplicity and power that emanated from each piece and by the ensemble as a whole.

  “I can see your admiration of my grandma’s proudest possessions. She talked my grandpa into getting each piece, a year at a time. When they gathered the
m all, he told me he’d understood why she insisted so. He said that in this room they felt in unison with the woods and nature as a whole, as if a bit of the Cascades had entered their room. He loved to be next to Grandma when she sat in her rocking chair to knit or read. He read his newspaper or just chatted with her, their private time and space. We children knew to leave them be.”

  “I can imagine it.” I spoke so quietly it sounded almost like a whisper. Then I saw a guitar resting against the dresser. I walked toward it and caressed its strings.

  “Is this Angela’s old guitar?”

  “Yes. How’d you know? Wait, what am I saying? Of course you know these things.”

  “You play?”

  “I do.”

  “Did Angela teach you?”

  “In a way. My dad took to playing it when he was little. Guess he loved to hear Grandma play it and wanted to do it himself. Soon after we moved in here, I took to it just as easily as he did.”

  “On her fourteenth birthday, I heard Angela apologize to her guitar for not being able to take it with her, and she told it she knew it would be loved. Guess she was right.”

  “Without a doubt. Thanks for telling me that. I always felt a special connection between the guitar and Grandma.”

  “Has Tom learned to play it as well?”

  “Yes. He has his own at home.”

  “Will you bring this one with you?”

  “Of course. I’ve been teaching Elan and Nina. It plays easier than other guitars, so it’s simpler for little ones to learn.”

  “Where did you sleep when you were young?”

  “James and I slept in the room down the hall, and Denise slept in the one right next to this one. Before that, my dad, Aidan, slept in my bedroom with my uncle Brady, and my aunts, Casey and Deidre, slept in what later became Denise’s room. Go take a peek if you want. When Tom’s mom, Dianne, moved back here with me, we lived in a house not far from here. After she left I moved back into my old room, and Tom inherited my sister’s room. Some of the old furniture is still there, but much of it is newer. This bedroom set here is the only one that has not succumbed to the modern world.”