Fighting the impossible (2 page)

Five years earlier

The day before the wedding

The
next day was a real torture for Tara. Organizing a wedding for someone like Claire,
who always expected more, was a real test and now she had to deal with this
big-headed male specimen Peter McClain. And this proved more difficult than the
guest list and the floral arrangements. No matter how diligently Tara was
trying to avoid him, he was always there, watching her, handing her the
scissors, inflating balloons or simply bringing her a glass of water, just when
she was thirsty. How tiresome! And although he seemed to had turned into her
shadow, he hadn’t uttered a word since the morning. Tara just wanted to get
away, throw away everything, jump in her Mini and set off to… Where to?! All of
her friends were here and she would never abandon Claire in the most important
day of her life. It was clear that she needed to deal with Peter McClain alone.

“You
okay?” there was concern in his voice and of course the eternal tease. Peter
slightly touched her shoulder, sending electrical impulses throughout Tara’s
body. “You were clutching the chair so hard, I thought that you will break the
backrest.” His eyes sparkled, warmer than the midday sun.

“What
do you care?!” Oh, it sounded wrong again, she thought, but it was only his
fault. Peter visibly withdrew by her tone and caused a part of the daylight to
go out with the glimmer in his eyes.

“Well,
just” he reached over her and took a card with a guest name from the table “Mr.
Colum Preach won’t have a place to sit if you break his chair. All in the name
of the perfect wedding!” his eyes flashed thunderstorm blue.

“I
think we will be able to find an extra chair” Tara’s tone was ice-cold “And if
not, Mr. Colum may take mine!”

“But
wouldn’t that be wonderful!” Peter was on the verge of losing his temper “Then
we can share a chair and I’ll even let you sit on my lap!” he winked at her.
Tara was clutching the scissors so hard that… The adrenaline was blurring her
vision. Self-control was a foreign word in his presence.

“Be
careful, Miss Whyley, you’ll cut yourself!” he gently took the sharp object
from her stiff fingers, burning her soft skin. “And we still need your
decorating skills.” His tone was indifferent and businesslike, but also somewhat
guarded. Peter walked away with quick steps, leaving Tara alone to deal with
the anger and the emotions raging in, taking over her like a flock of angry
birds. And why now, when he finally left her at peace, she didn’t feel relief,
but emptiness. The world suddenly had lost its charm, the grass was grey, the
sun was simply annoying, blinding her; everything around her was like a
tasteless meal in a five star restaurant. Tara just gave up and sank into the
chair beside her. Maybe it was all because the stress around the wedding. She
had to make sure everything was on schedule and Claire was happy, but it turned
out, that it was drinking all of her vital energy. And now that Peter McClain.
As if it wasn’t enough, he was throwing all of his energy into teasing her.
“He
was just trying to help”
a little voice was creeping into her mind. Tara
sighed. There was no time for that. And what she cared! Two more days and
she’ll never see him again. She only had to survive tomorrow. Funny, but the
thought saddened her. Tara shook her head, scattering her loose locks all over.
First things first, making baby steps. First the dinner party, then she would
think about the rest. Tara looked around. Everything seemed exquisite – white
and silver accents with a drop of green, just like she wanted it, to feel the
nature in every detail, even to smell it. The list with the guest arrangement
was ready.

“It
will be okay,” Tara told herself. “Come on, girls,” she turned to the hotel
staff. “We can finish here; this will be the design for tomorrow. I’ll be here
in the morning to help you.”

So, now the only problem left to her
was Peter.

***

Lunch
went surprisingly well. Or bad?! Around the table were gathered the closest
friends of Claire and Tom as well as their families. And of course Peter was
there too. But he was just completely ignoring her. Everybody praised Tara for
the smooth preparation and the support, Claire was even moved to tears, giving
a mini speech about the privilege to share the most important day of her life
with the most loyal friend – Tara. Everyone was smiling and pleased, but he
just sat there, like he was in another dimension. She should be happy and
relaxed, all was coming according to plan and the wedding was only a few hours
away. But Tara felt like she had lost the ability to enjoy life, and everything
around her seemed pointless and overrated. She stole a quick glance at Peter. Something
about him made her trilled, to be angry and laugh at the same time, to feel the
world more vividly, like only with his presence he was able to change the night
into day. Tara had never felt such passion and at the same time anger towards
someone. Rage, that he made her forget all around her; anger, because he
affected her feelings without even doing anything. Suddenly Peter raised his
head and their eyes met.
Damn!
Seconds turned into minutes. She felt
like mesmerized by the blue of his eyes. A moment later, he smiled politely and
simply continued with the main course. So…. Tara had to admit that she had
deserved exactly that type of attitude, even worse. She didn’t even know him,
but their every conversation ended with caustic remarks, offending and
insulting him. But he was just getting on her nerves, under her skin, so
irresistible – no, that wasn’t right – he was moving her soul. But now, when
she obviously had crossed the line, everything she wanted, was for him to look
at her and smile, to see the interest in his eyes again. This man had just touched
something inside her, buried deeply, excited her like nobody till now and Tara
couldn’t deny it any more. But she could play that game too and after he showed
no interest in her, she certainly wouldn’t beg for attention. But just when she
had gathered enough determination…

“Excuse me, would you hand me the
butter?” his voice shook her out of the stupor.

***

Present days

“Tara,
pass me the toast, please!” Claire reached out across the table at the
restaurant. “Tara?”

“Oh,”
she startled, “Of course! Here you go!”

Claire
was piercing her as if she was reading her soul. Tara looked dazed; the
memories were still tickling her fingertips.

“You
look dead to the world again.” said Claire.

“Hmm?
Yes!” Tara’s cheeks were burning, her searching eyes were eager for another
taste of the past.

“You
sure, you’re okay?” Claire didn’t stop.

“Come
on, dear! I know you are worried, but I’m fine! See!” Tara was laughing.

“Yes,
I see! Only, that I’ve already heard it every day over the past four years.”

It
was like someone sucked all the joy from Tara’s eyes.

“Why
are you doing this?” she cried out. “Why?!” it was barely a whisper now.

“Someone
needs to return you to Earth, into reality, and I choose that person to be me.
You can’t live in the past, Tara! There’s still a lot to fight for!” Claire’s
tone was serious.

“But I am fighting! Every day! And I
don’t know why you need to remind me that.” Tara stood up abruptly from the
table. “I think my appetite has just vanished!”

***

Late
that afternoon Tara stood leaning against the stone railing of the stairs in
the garden, her favorite place in the entire complex. The water cascades were
rippling softly against the dying day. The sunlight was slowly withdrawing for
its dream, sending its last heat over Tara’s face. She inhaled deep the scent
of the garden – spices, pine, autumn flowers, violets and even grapefruit,
melon, lily-of-the-valley, musk and amber, and then…

A
moment later, Peter was walking toward her.

Flash!

Five years earlier

The day of the wedding

Peter
was hurrying up the stairs to Tara. She had come here to gather strength for
the upcoming day, to enjoy the first sun rays and have a hot sip of cappuccino.
But now he appeared and quite unconsciously was setting explosives in the air.

“Tara!”
there was something different in his voice, as if the conversation was urgent,
brooking no arguments. She took in his whole appearance just now. Still damp,
his hair was falling unruly over eyes that looked tired, but resolute. He was
almost dressed up for the wedding, but the tie was missing and his shirt was
unbuttoned. He seemed tense and ready for a fight.

“You
look like a man who hasn’t slept all night.” Tara raised an eyebrow. Peter
radiated restlessness. “I hope everything is okay!” she said.

“Yes,
but a sip of coffee would be much appreciated. May I?” asked Peter, relishing
the deep aroma, whirling away from Tara’s cup.

“Has
nobody warned you, not to get between me and my morning coffee?!” laughed Tara.

Peter
took a step back; his eyes were puzzled and hopeful.

“Someone’s
in great spirits today! Well…, but what if I really haven’t been sleeping all
night?!” his voice begging her.

Tara
handed him the hot cappuccino.

“Here,
I guess you really need it. I just hope, you’ll look better for the group
photo!” she was teasing him, without being hostile and exuberance was flowing
from her, making everything sounds like fun. Peter studied her over the steam
from the cup. Something had changed; there was still tension around them, but
with a different charge.

“Look,”
he started, “I know that we haven’t started well, but today is an important day
for our friends. What about burying the hatchet?” Peter’s eyes demanded an
answer. He put the cup down and took her hands between his palms. “Peace?”

Tara
shivered. There was something about Peter McClain that was touching her on a
whole new level and it didn’t matter, what in him made her feel like in a
cocoon of happiness, love and hate mixed all together. Her fingers tangled with
his. And just like that her lips found his, whispering:

“Peace.”

Peter
took a sharp breath and his body tensed as a string. Her lips were seeking
answers, touching his, her hands found his hair and pulled him closer. Tara’s
head was spinning. His scent! It was making her dizzy. Spices, forest, spring
morning. She had to breathe. He was sucking the oxygen out of her lungs. Peter’s
body relaxed a moment later in her hands, every fiber, responding to the touch.
Like everything around them froze, ice-cold silence, and they both were flames,
blazing with each second. Their bodies were like the two parts of a complex
mechanism and you could almost hear the click, when they fit together. His
touch was everywhere, burning its way to every cell of hers. His hands barely
touched her face, gentle as a feather.

“Tara…”
a throaty sound, seeped in passion and then: “Tara!” - persistently.

All she managed to utter was a
“Shush!” Something, deeply buried inside her, was threatening to erupt and wipe
out all, the whole world, leaving only the two of them and a cup of hot
cappuccino as a witness. Her hands found his bare chest, the skin was hot like
lava, and his heart was beating uncontrollably. Her touch tore a moan from his
throat and he pulled her closer. Tara got caught in a maelstrom. His hands, his
lips, became more insistent, eager, desperately seeking more of her sweetness.
Tara found strength and opened her eyes, staring in his. And they were no
longer two blue lakes, but a deep ink, darken like a thunder sky.

***

Tara
couldn’t remember how they ended up in her room. The only real thing at the
moment were his lips, brushing her body, the hands, embracing her face, his
skin, caressing hers, he, whispering her name.

Time stopped.
The only sound was their breathing, the only sensation – the warmth of their
bodies.

“Tara…”
Peter whispered her name so softly, his lips barely touching hers. “Tara, love,
we’ll miss the wedding!” he was smiling.

Tara
tried to find her voice.

“The
wedding?!” she opened her eyes, still clouded with excitement… And then:

“Oh,
my God! The wedding! What time is it?  Damn! Claire will kill me. Kill us!
Crap! We have to hurry!” Tara was frantically collecting clothes, scattered on
the floor. “Peter, I can’t find my underwear! Peter!?” he had lounged lazily on
the bed, taking in her every movement and body curve, innocently playing with
her lace lingerie.

“What
are you doing?” Tara grabbed the little piece of lace from his hands.  “I have
to go and change, to…to…”

Peter
suddenly pulled her down on the bed, pressing her with his damp, naked body.

“Peter,
but what…?! We don’t have time. It’s not funny!” Tara’s eyes flashed with
warning.

“Hush,
relax!” his voice reverberated around her. Tara struggled, trying to push his
muscular body and failed. “Come on, Tara, stop!” Peter was laughing out loud.
“We have enough time to get ready. Moreover, this is your room and I’m the one
who should try to find his clothes.” a devilish flames sparkled in his eyes.

Tara
looked around. Had she really lost her mind, the sense of time and place? She
sighed.

“Well.
Then why are you still here? You need to prepare, me too.”

“I
don’t mind if you’re just like that, wearing nothing!” his hands were rubbing
her breasts.

“Peter!”
Tara moaned, “We can’t…” he drowned her words with a kiss, deep, soft and
beyond natural. This man had won her without even making a conscious effort. Something
was rousing again, deep inside her. Need, necessity to be next to him, to feel
his heartbeat. He smiled, sensing her desire.

“Fine,
I’m going. But I’ll wait for you in the garden. Whenever you’re ready, love!”
he got up, put on his shirt and pants quickly, threw her a last longing look,
filled with desire, and went out.

Tara
was staring at the door. For a moment, the room seemed cold and depressing
without him. Was it even possible for this man to influence her moods, to
unlock a passion, unknown until now? Tara focused. The wedding. So… she quickly
went to the bathroom. The hot water reminded her strongly for Peter’s caresses.
She switched to cold and a little later had regained her composure. She put on
her light green chiffon dress, twisted her hair in a casual bun and put a bit
makeup. Her lips were swollen by the passionate kisses.
“Oh, God!”
 Tara
was blushing even remembering the moments when he…
“Stop!”
She stood in
front of the mirror, struggling with herself. What had just happened, seemed so
rash and careless, but at the same time so right and natural. None of this was inherent
to her. She’d rarely let anyone so close. And that was why no one had hurt her
till now. The truth was, she feared exactly that, the pain that someone might
cause her, the scars, which could be branded in her soul. But despite the fear,
she had never felt so full of energy, as if finally had found a worthy cause in
life to follow. Tara put a sparkly peach gloss on her swollen lips and looked
in the mirror for the last time. Whatever happened in the future, she was
ready.

***

Tara
was walking slowly to the garden, trying to clean her mind. She stopped a few
meters away and closed her eyes, inhaled the fresh woody air and smiled to the
soothing wind.

“Don’t
tell Claire, but today you are the most beautiful woman here!” he was so close.

“Peter.”
it wasn’t a question, but merely a statement. Tara hadn’t opened her eyes yet,
enjoying the feel of his body close to hers.

“I
said I’ll wait for you, right! Tara…” he moved an unruly lock away from her
face. “Will you do me the honors to be my date today?”

She
opened her eyes, studying him. But all she found was tenderness and sincerity
and an undercoat – deep desire. Even the playful sparks were gone, no trace of
irony. He wanted her and was more than serious. He slid his hand and enfolded
her waist. Tara was smiling. She was amazed, how one touch could ignite passion
and bring peace in her soul. Yes, he gave her confidence, she trusted him.

“Is
that ‘Yes’?” Peter hugged her gently.

She
pressed her lips on his, surprising him.

“We’ll
see!” whispered Tara in his ear, then quickly slipped from his arms and headed
for the rose garden, where the ceremony was to be held. She felt like child,
who wanted to play, jump, sing and dance. “Come on!” Tara turned to Peter,
handing him her hand. “And tell me, please, that everything is going according
to plan and we haven’t ruined the wedding.”

“For
the record, this is ‘Yes’.” he intertwined his fingers with hers.

Tara’s
eyes sparkled with excitement, anticipation and joy. There was no need to
answer, and they both knew that something more than sex had happened between
them, and were determent to find out exactly what.

“Everything’s
fine, the guests started to arrive fifteen minutes ago. Tom is here. Claire?
Did you see her after…” the sentence hung in the air. His thumb was painting
circles on her palm.

“You
have to stop doing that!” Tara looked serious.

“What?!”
Peter was perplexed.

“To
touch me like that, to remind me of the morning, to…” she was blushing.

He
moved his other arm around her waist, touching the base of her spine, fingers burning
through the thin fabric of her dress. He took her hand and placed it on his
chest, and then very slowly leaned toward her. She closed her eyes, welcoming
the kiss, but he just whispered in her ear:

“Like
that?”

Tara
shivered.

“Sorry,
love, but I can’t promise you that. I barely contain myself not to throw you
over my shoulder, get locked in a room and skip the whole wedding!”

Her
heart was banging in her ears, and bones were melting. With the last of her
strength Tara said:

“Later!”

***

The
wedding came and went in a blur to her. She was smiling, welcoming guests,
solving last minute problems. Claire. Tom. Vows. Tears. Joy. Peter and his
eyes, always catching hers in invisible embrace. Everything was blurred, and
her heart threatened to burst from such emotions. The day was almost over. The
newly married couple had just cut the cake and was getting ready for the plane,
which was supposed to take them to their honeymoon. Tara was sipping her
favorite Pinot Grigio Rose and admiring the twinkling lights in the twilight. She
didn’t want it to end, the magic that floated in the air. The whole scene was
whispering that anything is possible.

“Hi!”
said Tara without turning around.

“How
did you know it was me?” Peter’s hands wrapped her.

“The
fragrance you use, it’s sealed in my mind,” said Tara, leaning on his shoulder.
Their bodies swayed to the rhythm of the music.

“Come!
I want to dance with you.” Peter led her to the dark part of the park.

“Uh,
excuse me, but the dance floor is in the opposite direction,” said Tara.

“I
have a better idea. Look!” They stopped in front of a hundred years old oak tree,
whose crown concealed the night sky.

“Here!
It’s perfect!” Peter pulled her closer to him, breathing in the scent of her
hair.

“I’ve
missed you!” his voice betrayed a longing.

“But
I was here all day, silly!” Tara smiled.

“No,
just me and you, without the flurry.”

“Yes,
you’re right!” she kissed his neck and sighed.

“Where’s
the woman, who wanted to tear my eyes out, or you’re just trying to kill me
with kisses instead?” he teased her.

“I
haven’t the faintest idea,” Tara was honest. Then looked him straight in the
eye seriously:

“Do
you feel like… home? Like you are exactly where you supposed to be! Here!” she
placed her hand over his heart and pulled his to her chest. He didn’t answer
for a moment and Tara thought she had gone too far; nevertheless they met just
two days ago. Then he took her face, his hands on her cheeks and gently kissed
her forehead.

“You
have no idea!” Then added: “I was here last night, trying to figure out what is
this between us – chemistry, desire, love or hatred, but you are right, it
feels like home!”

Tara’s
blood was boiling; a second was needed to set ablaze her core. His body
responded immediately, the muscles tensed and every piece of clothing was an
annoying barrier. She wanted him here and now and he would have fulfilled her
wish without thinking.

“Uh,
Tara?!” it was Claire, few feet away, wearing turquoise travel suit. “Someone
told me I’d find you here,” she said, smiling cautiously, raising an eyebrow.
Tara and Peter stepped back sharply from each other like children, caught in
the act.

“Claire!”
Tara’s voice sounded hoarse. “Are you ready?” she switched in an instant.