Twilight Child Read Online Free Page B

like an
indentured servant, and the job at the radio station had meant freedom and
independence. Then Chuck had come along, offering more promise, a home of her
own, a family. That disappointment dulled the promise of Peter’s words. Still,
she had to think beyond the lessons of bitter experience. She felt like a cork
on a wave. Go with the tide, she begged herself, wondering if she could muster
the courage.
    Â They finished
their dinner in silence. Then he led her back into the den. He poured two
brandies in snifters, and they sat on the floor and took off their shoes. He
reached out and caressed her arm, and she felt the rise of goose bumps on her
flesh.
    Â â€œI’ve been
very empty for a long time,” he said. He bent over, brought her free hand to
his lips and kissed it. So she was not the only one in the world in desperate
need, she thought.
    Â â€œI’m very
frightened, Peter,” she said finally, after she had let him kiss her deeply.
    Â â€œYou’re not
alone in that regard.”
    Â Again she let
him kiss her, responding. Was it wrong? Suddenly, she stiffened and turned
away. She had felt the tangible presence of her in-laws, Molly and Charlie,
cursing her descent into infidelity. Leave me alone, she cried within herself.
    Â â€œWhat is it?”
Peter asked.
    Â â€œNothing.”
    Â â€œYou won’t
tell me?”
    Â â€œNot now.”
    Â He kissed her
eyes, the tip of her nose, her cheeks. He found her lips, and she felt his
hands caressing her everywhere.
    Â â€œStay the
night,” he whispered.
    Â Her mind
whirled with objections. She had promised her in-laws that she would come over
early enough the next morning so that they could all go to the Boat Show in
Annapolis, and they were sure to call her apartment at an ungodly hour to
remind her.
    Â â€œI’m totally
unprepared for this,” she said hesitantly.
    Â â€œI want to
love you. That’s all.”
    Â She felt
surrounded by him. Not that she offered any calculated resistance. It had been
so long since she had been in a man’s arms—Chuck’s arms. And there had been no
feeling in that, no sense of protection. No pleasure at all.
    Â She was
surprised to feel Peter’s hard, corded muscles. His hands were gentle and
knowing. She felt alive, wanted. Someone was loving her, someone was caring,
someone was pleasing her. Her alone.
    Â When she
awoke, she did not feel as if she was a stranger. There were no where-am-I’s or
lapses of memory, nor did she feel that what she had done, what she was doing,
required a rebuke, from herself, from anybody. She lay in his arms, and it was,
she felt, her natural place. In their haste they had not drawn the blinds, and
the sun streamed into the room, a perfect lighting counterpoint to her
feelings.
    Â For the first
time in years, burdens had been lifted. In her mind, she felt a calm serenity.
Her body felt light, replaced, as if she had been transformed. A miracle had
occurred, she decided.
    Â She felt him
stir. His voice surprised her.
    Â â€œUp?”
    Â She nodded,
nuzzling his chest.
    Â â€œI know what
it means now,” he said.
    Â â€œWhat what
means?”
    Â â€œTo find that
lost piece of yourself. The missing link. I found it.” He kissed her earlobe.
“You.”
    Â She put a
finger on his lips, stopping his words. What she feared most was that it would
go away—the way it had with Chuck. Comparisons had intruded all night, and she
had fought them away like someone chasing bats in an attic. Finally, she had
won. In the light of morning the fear had less power, but it was no less
annoying. After last night, Chuck would always seem nothing more than a boy, a
beautiful boy. His body had been tight and wonderful, without blemish, wrapped
in a down of golden hair, a statue, equally as cold to the touch.
    Â But Peter was
fire. Behind the scholarly facade, the nervous beginning, were