Truth

I mean have -- something very few other people are ever blessed to experience.”
    Nathaniel looked at his watch, “Marie, it’s after three thirty. You go get some sleep. I’ll stay here until morning. You can relieve me in about three hours.”
    When she didn’t move, he stood and took her hand. She noticed the gleam in his eyes. He was thinking about another time and another place. “I mean it. I want you to get some rest.”
    She allowed herself to stand, her hand still in his. “Good night, Nathaniel.” While in the presence of others, she addressed him formally. However, during their private talks, the Mr. Rawls was long gone.
    It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t right. Nevertheless, as he stood there holding Marie’s warm soft hand and their chests touched, with only her robe covered nightgown and his robe covered t-shirt separating them, something changed. They both knew it, but neither one uttered a word.
    Nathaniel Rawls took what he wanted in life. What he wanted, above all else, was his wife. Life was cruel, and he couldn’t reach her, no matter how long or how hard he tried. He’d worked his entire life to give her the best of everything. However, he couldn’t give her health.
    Standing in front of him was everything Sharron had been and had ceased to be. In his hand was energy, vibrant and strong-willed, embodied in a lovely caring young woman. As he looked down into her soft gray eyes he noticed a sparkle only recently doused with tears.
    Although he still held tight to her hand and their hearts beat frantically within their touching chests, Nathaniel watched as Marie turned her twinkling eyes away. He didn’t want to lose that vivacity. It was more life than he’d be held in a long time. He gently raised her chin and spoke with a deep throaty voice. In all of their talks, she’d never heard this tone before, “You need to go to your room. May I suggest locking your door?”
    His tenor terrified her. Not that Marie feared Nathaniel; she feared the desires stirring within her. After all, she hadn’t been with a man for a long time, and never consensually. For the first time in her life, she experienced consensual thoughts and feelings. How could she possibly be thinking like this, with Ms. Sharron only two feet away?
    Her voice also came from somewhere deep, almost unrecognizable, even to herself, “Does everyone do exactly as you say?” She liked the way he smiled. It was so much better than his grief.
    “ Everyone, who is smart.”
    “ I’ve never claimed intelligence.”
    Nathaniel stood over six six. Marie was about five eight. When she was younger her height made her feel awkward. At this moment, it felt perfect. Her head fit perfectly under his chin. And with her chin tilted, as it was in his hand, and his face inclined their lips were but millimeters apart. The next minutes lasted hours. His lips moved forward and she made no move to stop them.
    It could be argued that she moved toward them, possibly lifting herself onto her toes. Honestly, there was such a small space to cover -- the who was inconsequential as at the moment was the why . What mattered was the what . What were they doing?
    His lips were full, warm, firm, and right. They’d both been overwhelmed by the sadness at Sharron’s recent decline. Perhaps, within a cold gloomy New Jersey winter where hope seemed lost, a glimmer of joy could exist.
    “ If you don’t tell me to stop – now -- I can’t promise I’ll be able to stop in the future.”
    Marie remained silent. When he tugged her hand toward her attached suite, she willingly followed. She wasn’t hoping to cure her loneliness as much as his. Could a wrong relationship actually be right , in the middle of this desolate life?
     
     

 
     
     
    Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strength.
When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength. --Mahatma Ghandi
     
    Chapter 20
     
    Claire licked the spoon, followed by a satisfied, “Yum.” She lifted the pan of creamy cilantro sauce and set it aside to cool. Her empty stomach twisted in anticipation of the appetizing aromas. Amber’s kitchen glowed with warmth and the rich fragrance of baking fish. She pushed the light diagram on the screen of the wall-oven and illuminated the small cavern. Inside, she spied fresh tilapia filets sizzling in a warm bath of liquid butter and lemon juice. Claire reread the clock. Harry should be here any minute , she