C
HAPTER
17
N
OW
N
ormally the picture of calm, the waters of the great Lake Ontario had been churning all day, its quiet sheen stirred thanks to the fierce summer thunderstorm that ripped across normally peaceful lands. Gentle waves that lapped against the sandy shores of Danton Hill now rushed in, crashing loudly to anyone foolish enough to venture toward the roiling lake. The beach was littered with entrails from the sea, cracked pieces of shells that pierced the wet sand, green strands of weed strewn about like the torn remnants of discarded fabric.
The sky was dark, with thick, angry clouds hovering above. Occasional bright flashes of lightning swept across the horizon, deadly streaks striking the ground, blowing tree branches to the ground, highlighting ripples against the surface of the warm water. Whatever picnickers had been here earlier, they had all gone to seek shelter elsewhere, leaving the beach deserted and alone. As hard waves jutted up against the sharp rocks of Mercer's Point, thunder crackled big and loud overhead. Something had stirred Mother Nature; an internal fight between earth and sea had sprung up. It was a perfect storm of time and power, ideal conditions for the return of the sister whom the sea had claimed long ago.
A vision appeared from nowhere, seemingly conjured from wind and white gossamer, her fresh presence still hesitant, ghostlike. Effortlessly gliding over rippling water, she appeared briefly to hover over the slick, sharp stones of the place named in her honor before moving to the safety of the land. Once clear of Mercer's Point, her footprints barely made an impression in the cool sand as she glided with focused determination. She'd heard her name spoken from some deep recess of the world, a place from which she'd waited for the call from destiny. Locked inside her were stories untold, meant to be sealed forever but now opened to reveal their inner truth, their unique embrace.
On her body magically appeared the familiar dress, returned to her as though through the power of forgotten dreams. Its once-vibrant colors of red and violet were long faded, but still she would know its contours anywhere. She remembered the way it draped against her lithe body that morning she'd gone to greet him at the lake's edge. How it had hung from her door frame while she slept, waiting more patiently than she possibly could for morning's arrival. How long ago that had seemed, yet how familiar the image was to her. Her arms outstretched, the fabric flowing in the wild wind, it was almost like the currents took hold of her, lifted her forward, her spectral self-guided toward an unknown destination.
She'd never been there, but suddenly there she was. She was free from the constraints of the sea, her soul returned to seek all it had once desired. She gazed about, her piercing eyes able to see all she chose to. A large house stood before her, darkened against the black backdrop of night. Only a sliver of moon slipped through a cloud, the thin strip of light catching her reflection in a nearby puddle of rainwater. She was real, she could see herself, and it was like she was unchanged after all this time. Her beauty preserved just as much as her spirit remained untamed.
“My Aidan,” she said, the sound of her voice hollow, echoing only in her mind.
Still, she had actually spoken the word, and somewhere she knew the word was heard.
Across the expansive lawn she went. Bypassing a swing gently swaying in the breeze, she found herself surrounded by tall stalks of corn. She was in the backyard, at the edge of rows of corn that stretched seemingly for miles. Funny, neither hunger nor thirst demanded themselves of her. Only a deep passion fueled her and pushed her forward. But what did all of this mean, the house and the yard, the porch swing that her mother would have enjoyed? A tear formed at the corner of her eye, the rush of emotions suddenly too much for her.
She fought to return from where she'd come.
This was too hard, she was lost. Control, so much a part of her, was not hers.
The wind struggled with her, and at last she gave in to its whims.
That's when she discovered a fine granite stone set before her.
“Aidan,” she said again, and this time it was like she was reading his name.
She was.
For it was his name etched on the stone that she saw.
Aidan Barton. August 19th.
The date meant nothing to her, and why should it? For her time was immaterial. All that mattered now was this plot of land, the thick tendrils of grass that sprang from the soggy ground, almost as though somewhere beneath it life fed the good earth. Her earlier tear evaporated, giving way to a heartfelt smile. She reached down to run a hand across the smooth top of the stone, pulling back as she felt a striking heat emanating from its surface. Expecting its touch to be cool, instead the stone was fiery and alive.
“Venture, you've come back . . .”
She turned with surprise, her green eyes expressive in the all-consuming night. Had she heard something, was he somehow calling to her? Or was it a trick of the wind, like her own presence, unreal but real, its sweeping voice howling against tree branches, the rustling sound its own language. Her eyes fell upon the upstairs of the old farmhouse, a light appearing in the attic. She believed it was referred to as a cupola, and inside the square room came a shadow against the window.
“Aidan,” she said again. “Have I come back to you? Do you even know it's me?”
She watched the house again. The soft glow of light inside the cupola was doused, with the night once again settling over her. But darkness had a way of heightening the other senses, and so she breathed and tasted the scent of the lake and she listened, deeply, no longer wishing to hear the rushing sounds of the sea, the whispers of the wind. She wanted to hear her name.
“Please, Aidan, answer me. Know that I love you . . .”
There came nothing, and for a moment she felt deflated, as though the next breeze could whisk her away in oblivion.
And then there was this willowy sound, spoken almost like a secret told between souls of those truly meant for each other. Of those who opened their hearts to this elusive notion called destiny.
“My dearest Venture,” she heard, a quiet voice from somewhere in the dark of night, “I knew you would return to me. Oh, how I've waited to hear your sweet voice again . . . your laugh that so spun my dreams.”
She took another step forward, still floating on air.
She sensed a shadow emerging from the cornstalks.
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The transformation was nearly complete.
Deep inside Vanessa's imagination, she could see that Venture Mercer had come back to life, her willowy self miraculously, improbably, floating amidst the cool breeze of night just as moonlight streaked across the violet dress. Vanessa stood before the reflection in the window of the cupola, knowing that what looked back at her was someone beyond herself. Wearing the dress, surrounded by the love letters Aidan had written to Venture still strewn about the floor, Vanessa realized she had unlocked a portion of her trapped soul, knowing at last that she had found what she was looking for . . . whom she was looking for. And he was waiting downstairs for her.
So what was she waiting for?
Looking deep into her reflection, her mind swam with memories. At the corners of her eyes were the lines of a life lived with zeal and with passion, but also tinged by sadness and tragedy. She'd seen it all, she liked to think, and most importantly she'd survived it all. Now, the next stage of her life awaited her in a bedroom that wasn't theirs except for tonightâand for now tonight was all that mattered. Though they had shared their bodies earlier in the day, she was nervous thinking about being with Adam. Because this time they had left all their worries, their secrets, behind them, tucked into a past that finally felt settled. What they had uncovered inside this cupola, amidst all those unread letters, was the notion of faith. You had to take a leap and have faith that life would work out as you wanted. As it was supposed to.
Running fingers through her thick, dark hair, she watched as the locks fell back against the nape of her neck. She imagined his touch, the way his lips had felt on her skin, the tingling sensation that ripped through her body. She wanted nothing more than to feel him again, to touch him and caress him, reach for him and feel the heat of his body against her. So why then was she still upstairs? Was she avoiding him, or herself, or simply what making love would mean to their future?
“Vanessa, you okay up there?” she heard from the base of the stairs.
“Sorry, yeah . . . just, you know . . . girl stuff.”
Enough stalling. Enough thinking.
With one last glance at her face in the window, she willed away her fears and then went to leave. A vision again from outside caught her attention, and her eyes widened, searching for what had attracted her attention. But she saw nothing, just the rustling of trees from the wind. Seemed like the storm was gearing up for another go at them. As she stepped toward the stairs, she doused the candle by which they had read Aidan's letters, and then she spoke a silent thank-you. To Aidan and to Venture, their enduring love a message for all. What she could have with Adam was what they had lost, and she was determined, if nothing else, to honor them.
She emerged downstairs into a glow emanating out of the darkness. She found several other candles lit, the light from their flames flickering against the wall, creating moving shadows of light and dark. Smiling at the lovely setting before her, she padded down the hallway and into the far bedroom, coming to the edge of the bed, where she found Adam already settled, waiting. Leaning against a mass of soft pillows, his bare, muscular body partially covered by sheets, he looked so handsome and sexy, yet boyish at the same time thanks to his grin, caught by candlelight. A mix of that insecure kid she'd known back in high school and the confident man she'd met in New York.
“Wow, the dress,” he said, speaking softly. “As though it was made for you.”
“It's not . . . weird?”
“It's perfect. Just as Aidan treasured it, so too do I.”
He leaned over to take her hands into his. He drew her nearer to him, she climbing onto the bed beside him. His hand reached up, slipping Venture's dress off her shoulders, exposing them bare. She felt a chill rip through her body, then felt a contrasting heat as his hand encircled her breast, one then the other. She arched her neck, felt his fingers dance up her skin, her neck, touching her lips. She took them in her mouth, suckled them, tasting him. He pulled her closer to the point where their lips met; a hot kiss sizzled between them. Her cheeks he cupped with his hands as her own fingers slid up, then down his arms, toying with the hair coating his forearms. The scratch of his beard awakened dizzying sensations beneath her skin.
“Adam, the way you touch me . . .”
He kissed her more intently, and she responded in kind, pressing him down against the softness of the mattress. Her body atop his, she sought out his neck, the lobe of one ear then the other. She could feel him beneath the blanket, and her wandering actions served to feed their passion. Kissing the scruff on his neck, she wandered down further, her tongue tasting the salty sweat that lived within his thicket of chest hair. She encircled his nipples, one with her tongue, another with her finger, squeezing, teasing him. He pulled her even closer, his arms encircling her body to the point where they were indistinguishable. His strong, hairy body sending tingling charges over her soft skin.
“Adam . . . Aidan, take me.”
“Vanessa . . . Venture . . . we are together, soon to be embraced as one.”
Vanessa slid further down against him, pressing against his hard body. With a free hand she suddenly, quickly guided him inside her, with penetrating tingles rippling through her body. She let out a hearty breath, only to breathe in some needed air as he entered her further. All the time she watched him and he watched her, their expressions locked, serious, intense. At last he filled her, and she began to move, up then down, up then down, while sitting atop him. She gasped aloud as pleasurable sensations danced around inside her. She stroked his chest, teased his nipples. The feel of him inside her was magnificent, hitting all the right sensations within her. Suddenly a small wave of orgasm swarmed through her body. She kept up her motions, giving in to another wave of pleasure, then another, letting them wash over her like the currents of the ocean, gaining strength, impacting against the shore with a resounding crash.
“Adam, Adam . . . don't stop, oh, don't . . .”
She felt him push more, deeper, just as strong hands encircled her breasts. Her eyes closed and she gave herself to the moment, enjoying how and where he touched her, all the while continuing to ride atop him, waiting, wanting . . . desiring his inevitable climax. Her motions increased, she again gasped as he thrust, as he grunted. Theirs was a rhythmic dance that had found its syncopation, and they moved with their own music, just as they had on the porch earlier this night, sounds found only between hearts finding a common beat.
Neither knew how long they lasted, mostly because they had learned time meant nothing, even more so now. Vanessa continued to indulge passion she hadn't felt for too long, and from Adam's energy, his heat, his stamina, she recognized a man with whom she could share her innermost desires, fears. As Venture must have with Aidan, how else could they have forged a bond that defied the boundaries of time? As Adam rolled and thrust, as Vanessa touched and caressed, as they made love in a room lit by candles and moonlight, the past that had threatened to undo them became just that, a past relegated to a place where it could no longer do harm. They knew that even lovers from yesteryear had a future. With his kiss, she felt her old self melt away; with his eager thrusts, she sensed an awakening of a new kind was happening; with each ripple that swept over her body, she longed for one more, another, more and more. She was greedy, and he was giving. She wanted to feel his climax, and he was more than ready.