Chapter Twenty #3
They had probably taken a few of the people on the piazza and in the surrounding rooms by surprise.
A very nice surprise. And he had been surprised by how her gift had heightened everything.
Her arousal, his, theirs. It was like the fireflies on the mountain—all those separate flashes merging into one amazing conflagration.
He smiled and knew what that smile looked like to her. A little bit wild, and a whole lot edgy.
“Oh my,” she said. “I don’t think I’m going to survive this.”
“No worries. I got a preview.”
Her eyes went wide. “You…you saw this in a vision?”
He gave her a smug smile and nodded.
She got a sly look on her face. Then she licked her lips. “See anything else?”
“You keep right on wearing those lacy bras, even though I ask you not to,” he said. “And I keep taking them off you.”
It was her turn to smile then. “Well, hurry up and get to it, farm boy.”
“Speeding…again,” he panted in her ear.
“Italian…driving…persona.” She leaned to kiss, then nip, his neck.
“Ouch.” The nip then turned into a nuzzle and a lick. She squirmed, moving her hips.
Much later, once he was completely, utterly, and forever lost in her, beneath all the other sensations, he barely noticed the sunlit afternoon flicker and fade around him.
When he opened his eyes, he realized he would know her anywhere. Those eyes of hers, those chameleon eyes of hers. So blue and bright today. So young, despite the wrinkles in her face. Not many. She was ageless, his Mel.
Her fingers squeezed his.
I love you. I’ll love you forever.
“I told them. I told them you wouldn’t slip off without saying goodbye,” she said, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Her voice was raspy, a bit weak, but she was still his Mel with her hair all wispy and wild around her face, silvery white now. Still beautiful. Still his.
So, I’m the one who leaves you. After all this, I’m the one who leaves.
“I love you,” he whispered, his voice so weak he was sure she couldn’t hear him. But she squeezed his hand and leaned to press a kiss to his cheek.
He blinked at all the faces around the bed. Their bed for all these years.
“We love you, Dad,” came a voice from his left.
Long, slender fingers touched his, and he looked up into his son’s face. Zachariah. Zach, their first. So tall. He’d had Daniel’s dark brown hair a long while ago, but even Zach’s was thoroughly white now.
“Watch over them,” Daniel whispered.
His great-grandson, Danny, stepped into view. He had inherited Mel’s looks, but his great-grandfather’s gift. “I’ll keep watch over all of them, Pops,” he said in a broken voice. “Me and the kindling.”
And there was Trish. The image of her mother. They all looked so much like Mel to him. Although there was a dark head here and there. A couple of redheads, even. But so many of them had Mel’s eyes and her spirit as well.
Daniel could see most of them—grandkids and great-grandkids and great-great-grandkids, except for the ones who were off-world. They were a wandering bunch, Mel’s progeny. But Daniel had seen each of them, talked to them on vid, when was it?
There was one of their great-great-great-grandchildren, Sophie—a delightful little creature in her mother’s arms. Loreena held the baby up so he could see her.
“And us. We’re here too.” That was Jamie’s voice. She was there with some of her vast brood at the end of the bed.
“So many beautiful faces,” Daniel said. But the most important one was right here beside him, leaning on the bed.
“Don’t forget me,” said a quiet voice. He looked up to see Grace, still looking healthy and hale as ever, though Lily had apparently made her use the HandiChair that glided up beside his bed.
Lily, her silver-green eyes full of tears and a wild white streak in her long red ponytail, stood with her hand on her mother’s shoulder.
Of course, there was Logan, and the rest of the red-haired McKenzie clan represented behind them.
“I love you, Danny,” Grace said.
“We all do,” Lily added. “We all will. Forever and always.”
“You tell my Nick…” Grace’s voice broke and Lily leaned over and took her hand.
“I will, Gracie,” he replied, but his eyes were all for his wife.
His wife for all these years. He could hear the murmurs, the quiet sobs, the baby’s gurgle, the hushed questions from the young ones, a door slamming somewhere in the house, and even the sound of laughter from the garden below their window—their family and friends.
They’d done well, he and Mel.
He looked over at her and, for a moment, he was sure he saw Pops standing right behind her. And there was Gram, and Nick, and so many others crowding up behind Mel, smiling.
Then Mel moved so her face was almost all he could see now, as she curled up next to him on the bed, her head on the pillow beside him. Her fingers caressed his face, his hair.
I won’t let this change. This won’t change.
“Tell the bees.” He was finding it hard to speak. “I…”
“I know, love,” said Mel. “I know. Ti amo. Ti amo per sempre.”
“I love you… forever.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Mel whispered, kissing his lips, kissing his cheek and leaving her soft fingers there, stroking.
He couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, but he felt her hand on his face, stroking, stroking…
When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. He lifted his hand to his face. He could still feel her fingers there.
“I love you…forever,” he croaked. “Mel?”
“Ti amo per sempre,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I’m right behind you.”
He rolled onto his back. “How do you do that?”
She popped up beside him, beautiful and vibrant, holding a sheet that barely covered her, looking mussed and sexy and young—so very young.
“You know,” she said, wiggling her fingers under her chin. “Just a little magic.”