His Wounded Light (11 page)

“The tragedy of life is not that it ends too soon, but that we wait so long to begin it.”

—W.M. Lewis

“Sir, Mrs. Ailey’s on line one.” Penny sticks her head in my office two days after I arrive from Hong Kong.

My stay was delayed for another week, which kept me away from my family for a total of twenty-one days. I’m taking a few days off next week, but for now, I’m trying to wrap up the remnants of the deal before we can all rest easy.

I press the button on line one even before hanging up on Penny and swivel my chair around so I’m looking out the window. “Hi.”

“Hi. I just called to say I’m sorry we didn’t finish what we started last night. Darn Maddy!” She starts out in a hushed tone but ends up with a giggle.

“If she wasn’t so cute, climbing out of bed, rolling over Emmy, and crawling into our bedroom, I’d be so pissed at her right now.” A picture of Maddy curled up right by the door flashes in my mind.

“They’re sleeping over at Ali’s tonight. I called to let you know that.” Her voice sounds inviting; I will myself to focus on the papers in front of me before my mind gets carried away with all sorts of salacious thoughts.

“How’d you pull that off?”

“Ali wants to take them to the beach house on Saturday, so I agreed to just have them sleep over there. Emmy will go with them, one driver, and one car. You and I will drive down there tomorrow if that’s okay with you.” She pauses to wait for my response.

“Absolutely.”

“Leigh and Betty will be there too. He says he’s going to call you about going for a dive on Sunday.”

“Yeah, I have to call him anyway for a number of things. I’ll make plans with him for that. In the meantime...can’t wait to finish what we started tonight.”

“Me too. I love you, A.”

“Love you, baby. See you soon. I’ll head home right after my one o’clock meeting.” I’m about to hang up the phone when I hear her voice on the receiver.

“Oh, hey, A?”

“Yup.”

“Can we talk about this large transfer that hit our bank a few weeks ago? I just need to verify with the bank that it’s good. Not a big deal, just update me about it tonight.”

Shit. “Okay. I’ll bring the paperwork home.” She trusts me so much that she doesn’t even question it. She’s never suspicious, never mistrusting. I love her so fucking much.

I walk into our home a few hours later and know just where I’m going to find her. She’s curled up on the couch in her office, papers everywhere, laptop on the floor while she takes a little nap. My wife still loves to get her beauty sleep. Mindful of the confession I’m going to have to make today, I figure a drink is in order before she wakes up. Good thing there’s a bar that connects the door from my office to hers. I would’ve liked to share the space with her, but she’s always said she needs total peace and quiet when she writes. I silently make my way to the bar and pour myself a scotch, settling back against the wall for a moment to take in the beauty of the woman on that couch. Her legs are still long and lean and firm. Her hair is draped on her face and I can see the perfect profile of her nose and her full lips from where I am. She stirs to shift position and slightly opens her eyes. She blinks when she sees me and smiles.

“Hi,” she says with outstretched arms as I cross the room and bound right into them. We embrace for a few seconds until she loosens her hold on me and sits up. “I asked them to serve dinner at seven. Is that too late?”

“No, it’s perfect. I had a lunch meeting and I’m pretty full. Have the kids left?”

“Yes. I drove over to Ali’s with them and came back.” She stands up and gathers her things so she can sit at her desk while I remain on the couch with my drink. “Did you bring that paperwork with you? What did we purchase?”

I’m not afraid to tell her. I’m afraid to tell her what it’s for.

“I bought a car a few months ago.”

“Oh, wow. That’s nice. Where is it?”

“It was delivered to Leigh’s place while we were in Hong Kong. He’s keeping it there until I check everything out.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll like it. Porsche 911 GT2.”

“Color?”

“Orange.”

She laughs. “Cool. Ed’s favorite color.”

I can sense a bit of tension between us. First of all, she’s across from me sitting at her desk, and second, I can see her face trying to register what this means.

“A, you know I love it when you buy stuff for yourself and cars are your thing. But really? Doesn’t that car have too much power to just drive around the streets?”

Here goes.

“It’s not for driving around the streets, Iss.”

Her entire demeanor changes instantly. Her expression turns dark as she straightens her shoulders and crosses her arms resolutely. “No. We’ve talked about this so many times! No. Every year, you ask me and every year, I say NO.”

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me why you’re so afraid of me racing. It’s just a hobby. Something I’ll do on weekends. I’m turning forty soon, I’d like to be able to do this by then.”

“You’re not forty yet, you have a few more years to go.”

“Can we talk about this, please? Why are you so afraid?”

“I worry about you. Isn’t that enough reason?”

“I worry about you too. And the children. And our family. I never stop worrying. But it doesn’t make sense why you’re so adamantly against my racing. We can place rules around it if you want—anything. I just have to understand why you’re just so closed up about it!” I didn’t realize it then, but the tone of my voice has gotten louder and louder. I mean, I’m allowed to lose my patience too. Especially when my wife won’t just come out and tell me what the hell is going on with her.

“No. End of story. I’m not discussing this anymore.” She gets up from her desk, unplugs her laptop, and nonchalantly walks out of the office.

“Goddamn it, Isa, I’m not done talking to you yet!” I chase after her and grab her arm.

She spins around with a pained look on her face. “You’re so selfish.”

Simple statement, but geez, that hurt.

“Selfish? Because I want to pursue a hobby that interests me?”

“Please, Alex. Don’t push me right now. I just can’t.” She continues walking down the long hallway and turns right towards the stairs. She stops dead in her tracks after climbing a few steps. I see her swing slightly from left to right and the laptop falls to the floor as she grabs the railing with both hands to steady herself. But just as quickly as it happened, she straightens herself up and continues walking forward. I leave the laptop on the floor and follow right behind her.

“Isabel! What the fuck just happened? What’s going on? Are you sick?” I grab her by her shoulders and hold her still for a few seconds.

She viciously shakes me off, turning around to face me. There are tears in her eyes and then she starts to sob. She’s anything but calm and she’s keeling over like it physically hurts her to talk about it.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me? Oh no, sorry—to put it in terms you’d understand –you wanna know what the MOTHERFUCK is wrong with me? I’ll tell you now, Alex. Those dreams I’m having? They consume me every single day! I dream of my mother and of you with my mother. I don’t know what that means, but I think it means that you’ll be gone one day. And I’m terrified, Alex. I’m so afraid of losing you and I don’t know what to do about it. I feel like she’s telling me something and I’m trying to listen, but it’s killing me. If you left me, I wouldn’t want to continue on. And I feel so bad about that because I love the children so much, more than my life, and yet I can’t think beyond not having
you
with me. Now you want to race and put yourself at risk all the more?!” She backs away from me and holds her hands up to stop me from coming closer. She’s clutching her stomach; she can hardly get the words out. “What am I going to do without you, Alex?”

As she’s shouting this all out, I’m slowly walking towards her. “Isa, I—”

“No wait! There’s more! You want it all, so here’s more news for you. I sent the kids out with Alicia because I was so excited to tell you—I’m pregnant! And if I wasn’t having those dreams, I’d be so ecstatic right now, but I’ve been sick and stressed out and just so afraid!” She continues sobbing as she waves her arms around her. “I don’t need anything but you. Why can’t you just need me for now? We have everything we can ever want, why do you want to risk losing that? Pick something else to focus on! Something safer. Please!”

I can’t take it much longer; I have to hold my wife. We’re going to have another baby! I’m thrilled about the news and feel like a complete idiot for upsetting her. I step over to her and surround her with my body. “Stop, baby. Please, stop crying. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. If you had told me this sooner, I wouldn’t have been so stubborn. I’m so sorry. No more. No more talk about racing.” I can still feel her body shaking in sobs as I hold her tight.

“Okay,” she hiccups.

I am in awe of her capacity to forgive unconditionally. “Are you still dizzy?” I’ve locked her in an embrace as my hands caress her face, wiping her tears with my thumbs and planting tiny kisses on the top of her head.

“A little,” she says in that little girl voice of hers.

I sweep her up in my arms and carry her to our bedroom, placing her gently on the bed. I crawl my way up towards her face, my heart pounding in my chest.
Another baby.
Half of my body is on top of her, my head on her shoulder and my hand rubbing her stomach. I gently lift her dress up to expose her skin and plant a kiss on her belly button. “I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t want to stress you out about something that’s just all in my head.”

“We’re having another baby!” I roar happily. I’m busy kissing her belly and trailing upwards, lifting the dress as I go, reveling in our blessings.

“We are.” She’s holding my head and gently guiding me upwards, towards her face.

“You’re going to shop for really cool maternity clothes,” I muffle out from underneath her dress, “again.”

“I will.” She giggles as she lifts her dress away so she can see my face.

“And you said a very bad word earlier,” I comment, grazing the beautiful freckles on her chest with my lips. The ones I fell in love with twelve years ago.

“I did. I’m sorry,” she admits throatily, still guiding my lips to where she wants them. “That stubble on your jaw feels so good on my skin,” she moans.

God, she’s the perfect mix of prim and filthy. To the outside world, she’s this well-put-together high society woman. To me, she’s a goddess, a temptress, a fiery minx who’s all mine. Every inch of her is mine. Every facet of her being. Every piece of who she is. Mine. Always mine. Only mine.

“Don’t be. I think it’s hot.” I bury my face right in my safe zone, my favorite spot. I’ve already mentioned this before. “Is it too soon to start trying to make another one?”

“Mmm.” She pulls my face up to hers for a kiss. “No one’s home,” she whispers. “Take me. Mark me. Make me yours. I can scream your name all I want. No one will hear us.”

***

“A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are built for.”

—John A. Shedd

The drive to the beach house is light and easy. Isabel is wearing a collared shirt to hide the souvenirs I gave her from last night’s make up session. I can see her pulling down the mirror on the visor and checking her neck and shoulders out. She frowns at me and shakes her head. I let out a laugh and take her hand.

“You said to mark you.”

“I forgot we were going to the beach. Betty and Ali are never going to let me hear the end of it,” she whines, snapping the mirror shut.

“That was the least of what happened. Wait till you tell them about the handcuffs and that great new toy we just tried out.”

“Okay, Merv the Perv.”

“I’m Merv YOUR Perv.”

She throws her head back and laughs out loud. “True story.”