The next thing I knew we were lying on the grass. Jennifer had me cradled in her arms, rocking me like a child, whispering softly, “I love you so much.” The only other sound I could hear was the steady beating of her heart. The pain I’d been running from—had kept buried so deep inside—was dissolving with every beat. In its place feelings of overwhelming contentment and peace came flooding in. Secure in her arms, I felt safe again. No longer alone. A sense of belonging, of oneness, swept over me, filling me with the knowledge that love had somehow found its way back into my life … into my heart … into my very being. Totally surrendering to each other, we transcended time and found ourselves in a place that comes only to those who are willing to give themselves totally.
Somehow, we managed to find our way from Hodad’s to her beach cottage a few blocks away. We must have walked, but I can’t remember a single step. Everything was a blur. I know we made love for hours, because I remember gaining consciousness just long enough to realize it was pitch dark. At some point Jennifer must have lit candles, which were still burning, but now paled by the first rays of sunlight creeping into the room. Dawn’s light awakened our bodies long enough for us to melt into each other again. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Surrendering all thought, our bodies had taken control. We were now one. It was as if our bodies were telling us that living apart was no longer an option. We joyously surrendered to the unquenchable thirst of our souls. The more we made love, the more we wanted each other. With every new touch, our passion burned hotter and hotter. It was total and complete surrender. We’d both been waiting our entire lives for this moment, without any assurances it would ever come.
I had tasted love before, but nothing I’d ever experienced even came close to this. Everything paled in comparison. Seattle seemed like a distant childhood dream. This was all consuming, complete and absolute. A love beyond words. A oneness beyond the union of mere mortals. This was communion with God.
The morning light continued filling the room with its warming golden gift, gently filtering through the lace curtains, teasing our eyelids.
“I was afraid this was never going to happen,” Jennifer whispered tenderly, her head resting on my chest, our legs entwined, our bodies finally at rest. “God knows, I prayed it would.” Her voice trailed off. “But you were so far away.”
She was right. Ever since my life had been shattered in Seattle, I’d been scared shitless. I’d shrouded myself in a suit of armor. I totally shut down. My body went into self-defense mode, born out of survival and raw fear—function, dysfunction and compensation.
But last night, somehow, Jennifer had melted that armor away. I could actually breathe again. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Thank you …” she whispered back. “When we first met, I thought, maybe …” She shook her head slightly. “But then … I realized there was nothing anyone could do. I just had to wait.”
“If I’d had any idea you felt like this,” I teased, reaching up under her breast and pulling her closer to my lips, kissing her forehead, “do you think I would have waited?”
She pressed my hand against her heart. “God knows I wanted to tell you how I felt … to hold you … to feel your arms around me. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to pull you out of that train wreck. I could see it in your eyes … feel it in your voice. The fear. The pain. Always right there, just below the surface. Dominating your life. I could see it in the way you moved, in everything you did, except when you were playing with Sierra. There’s nothing harder in the world to do than find a way to let go of our fears … to find a way to trust again. But the instant we do, our lives are transformed forever.”
Let go of our fears, and we let go of pain.
I felt a tear drip off her cheek, landing smack dab in the middle of my soul.
She continued in a soft voice, just above a whisper. “But you never let on, or said a word. You just smiled from behind your sad eyes and kept going. Kept up a friendly front, doing your job. I knew someone had to have ripped your heart out, and it was all you could do to hold on. If you were ever going to crawl out from whatever hole you were hiding in, you were going to have to climb out on your own. As much as I wanted to dive in there and pull you out, it would never have worked. You weren’t ready for me, for love, for anyone, for that matter.”
Her tears flowed warm against my skin, but her voice remained steady. “Watching you with Sierra these past months is what gave me hope.”
Something so special, just a great joy, just to hear you laugh and to see the smile in your eyes.
—Jamie L. P. Stevens
Chapter 6
The smell of bacon frying was too much for my sleeping senses to ignore. I mustered all the energy I had to make my way into the kitchen. Seeing Jennifer standing in front of the old gas-burning Gaffers & Sattler, wearing a white cotton Oxford shirt, open and tied at her waist, with nothing on underneath, took my breath away. Hearing me come in, she half turned, innocently exposing part of her beautiful breasts, her eyes dancing.
“How about a little breakfast for dinner?” she asked.
Before I could answer, we were in each other’s arms again. We’d been in bed for twenty-four hours straight, and yet we still couldn’t get enough of each other. I lifted her onto the edge of the kitchen counter, and our bodies effortlessly blended together. Her legs wrapped around my waist, gently pulling me to her. The room glowed from the evening sun as it poured in through the farm-style curtains she had tied open over the deep trough porcelain sink. The insatiable urgency of our lovemaking had subsided, giving way to gentle desire. Our bodies rejoiced in their union. In contrast to the intense heat and fiery passion of the previous twenty-four hours, our lovemaking built now with its own sweet rhythm. Our bodies—way ahead of our minds—knew we weren’t going anywhere because we were already there.
By the time we sat down to eat, it was dark outside. A nearly full moon made its way over the eastern hillside behind her house, casting a soft blanket of light over the evening. We ate, showered together, and afterwards I brushed her hair—long, strong, healthy strands turned a rich, natural golden color from her days on the beach. Her entire being radiated life. I could almost hear her purring, as the last tangles gently broke free. Now I was able to get full, deep strokes with the brush as her hair shone and cascaded over her bronzed shoulders. We melted into the moment as our lives continued to fuse.
The weeks following were the happiest either of us had ever known. We were as much in love as any two people had ever been. Simple things, everyday activities, took on new textures and new meaning doing them together, from washing dishes, to walking Sierra. Jennifer even tried teaching me to surf, but that was a disaster. I never heard anyone laugh so hard watching me pearl time and again. Being together was all that mattered.
Brushing Jennifer’s hair became one of those little routines couples find themselves doing without really thinking about. It became an evening ritual that we both looked forward to. We’d sit together on the worn wooden steps of her front porch—Jennifer on the lower step between my legs—and I’d gently work through the tangles. We’d watch Sierra in the front yard running out to greet neighbors and strangers alike as they strolled along the sidewalk. We’d talk about the day or explore new ideas.
Jennifer was one of the most intuitive people I’d ever met—well educated, yet equally street-wise. I often had trouble keeping up with her. It didn’t matter, because wherever our conversations took us—from politics or far off lands to civil rights, religion or fame—we always ended up thankful for each other and our love. Some evenings we’d sit quietly, without words, watching the sun as it slipped into the Pacific, simply enjoying the world. We were content in what we’d found in ourselves, an unbreakable trust