Lance…even thinking his name made her go soft inside. And what about him? Had he, by now, cleared his head of her and settled happily back into his solitary life? She missed him. Instead of getting better over time, she found herself yearning for him more than ever. She tortured herself with memories of their Christmas together, his smiling face over the dinner table, the scent of his skin, her cheek against the soft hair of his chest, the touch of his hands. Dancing with him. Making love with him.
When she bid her parents goodbye, Brook held them close in a long farewell embrace. As wonderful as it had felt to see them again, there was still an ache in her heart. She boarded the plane and settled into her seat with a sigh. There would be no one to meet her plane in Denver. In fact, she wondered to what, exactly, she was returning. Or for.
Back in the city, Brook wandered like a lost soul through her days. Out of necessity, the criminal case and her divorce action shared center stage for a while, each creating its own special turmoil. Painful meetings with the district attorney, the difficult decision not to go to trial, to accept their guilty pleas and be done with it. Dull phone calls from Clark, his words leaving her empty, disinterested.
She moved in a daze through obligatory shopping trips, the plush but featureless hotel room, a temporary home at best. Lunching with friends who were not really her friends, those women whose phony interest in her wellbeing barely disguised their sick curiosity about her captivity and divorce. Long nights alone in a bed too big for one person.
Brook was going back to the mountain. She knew it. She had no direction for her life in Denver, and wanted none. She wanted Lance. Two months had passed and her longing for him had only grown. She hoped he felt the same.
Chapter 59
The little book of poems rested in Lance’s hands. He had read it a hundred times, lingered over the precious words, traced the writing with his fingertips. If he didn’t stop, he’d wear the book out, and he didn’t want that. Forcing himself to put it aside, he got to his feet and closed the shutters against the night.
He was trying to move forward in life, digging deep for the strength he needed. But, he missed Brook's company when he was in his workroom, the sight of her head bent over her journal, her smile at the dinner table, and the conversations they’d had while working together in the kitchen. And he missed her warm body pressed against his in the dark of night, her sweet lips, her tender sighs, her soft words of love. He groaned in agony. My Brooklyn!
Every space in his home held a memory of her. There was no escape from the longing, which came especially strong at night. He wondered how long he would yearn for her. He thought perhaps forever.
Chapter 60
Brook’s excitement grew as the bus finally pulled into Haylieville. She stared out the windows and drank in the sights of the small town. Wheezing to a stop, the bus rocked slightly before the driver locked the brakes and called out the name of the stop. Brook clutched the handle of her bag in a tight grip.
She moved down the narrow stairs and carried her valise into the cafe that served as Haylieville’s bus station. She had determined that one way or another she would find a ride to the path that led to Lance’s cabin, even if it meant prevailing upon Denise or Emily at The Outpost. Or a complete stranger, for that matter. She'd walk if she had to. She didn’t care. She had to see him, had to know. Did he love her as much as she did him?
Just inside the door, she stopped. At the counter, his backpack on the floor leaning against his leg, stood Lance. The sight of his familiar stance caused a soft pang in her chest. He was not looking at her; he had his eyes on the man who was handing him a ticket.
“Lance,” Brook called softly. Lance froze, hand reaching for the bus pass. Slowly, he turned his gaze to her and hope lit his features.
“Brooklyn?” In three long steps, he crossed the distance between them, took her face tenderly in his hands, and searched her eyes. She dropped her bag to the floor as a sob worked its way up from the pit of her stomach.
“Lance.” She choked around the unexpected tears. He pulled her to him, lifting her feet from the floor, and buried his face in her neck. She melted into his arms.
“Brooklyn,” he murmured, his melodic voice a balm washing over her. “You’re here!”
They embraced, clinging to each other as if they had been reunited after years instead of mere months. Heads turned to watch them, but they didn’t notice. They had eyes only for each other. The rest of the world had ceased to exist for this space of time.
“I was just buying a ticket to Denver,” Lance said, his mouth warm against her ear. “I was coming to bring you home.” His voice caught in his throat. Brook turned her head and their lips met. In that moment, all doubt fled, all questions were answered. The world, which had felt out of kilter and wrong, suddenly righted itself.
They were mostly silent on the drive up the mountain, each struck by the wonder of being together again. Brook sat close to Lance, resting her hand lovingly on his leg as he drove. He kept his arm over her shoulders, holding her snug to his side.
Finally, he pulled Old Reliable through the trees and into her hiding place. He walked around and helped Brook down from the truck, holding her to him for a long moment. She sought his lips with her own and they melded as if designed to fit together perfectly. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, and Brook thought she might actually swoon.
They could hardly keep their hands from each other as they trekked back to the cabin. The summer sun filtered down through the trees, dappling their path with moving shadows. Brook took a cleansing breath of the mountain air, flinging her arms wide, as if to embrace the entire mountainside. Lance's eyes twinkled as he gazed down at her. He encircled her waist and they shared a deep kiss under the boughs as a breeze rustled through the aspen trees. Brook let fall the bag she was carrying and gave herself over to the moment. The force of their passion nearly drove them to their knees on the forest floor as they clung to each other.
“Brooklyn, Brooklyn,” Lance murmured into her neck, running his lips over her skin. A soft moan escaped her lips as she melted under his touch. A wild mix of feelings coursed through her; joy, excitement, relief, love, and physical yearning.
Reluctantly, they parted and continued on their way. When the cabin came into view, Brook’s eyes filled with tears. Slowly, she placed her bag on the ground at her feet.
“Home,” she whispered, overcome with emotion. She had never seen a sweeter sight.
Lance shrugged off his pack. He lifted her into his arms, and carried her inside. So different from the first time. This time, she was strong and healthy. This time, she was there of her own free will. He lowered her to her feet just inside the doorway and she looked around, drinking in the welcoming comfort of her sanctuary. How she had missed it! And how she had missed Lance, her lover. He stepped out to retrieve their parcels as she wandered through the cabin. Lance returned to find her walking around, touching this and that as if to assure herself she was really here. She noted her book of poems on the mantle and put her hand to her lips.
“Oh, Lance,” she said as she turned. Then he was beside her, clutching her to his chest. Clasping each other, they collapsed on the daybed. The urgency of their lovemaking filled the room with soft groans and tender sighs. After their release, they did not part. Lance stayed inside her until the warm press of their flesh drove them to passion’s heights once again.