Waves of pleasure mingled and then merged—hers, mine, ours—all in a span of a shared heartbeat. We rode them together, our bodies connected and complete.
My orgasm eventually subsided and my brain started working again. Her climax lasted longer. She clung to me until it passed. I moistened my mouth, shifted my weight, and relaxed my grip on her thighs. She rested her forehead on my chest and let out a long breath.
“Wow.”
It was the first word that either of us had spoken since the thunder had woken me from the dream, and I wasn’t entirely sure who’d said it, her or me.
“No kidding,” I agreed.
“You can wake me like that any time. Oh my gosh, I’m still tingling.”
The window strobed with a flash of lightning, and thunder rolled over the camp. Christy looked at the unseen heavens.
“Do you think He’s trying to tell us something?”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “You rock my world.”
“No, I’m serious.”
I thought about it. “Maybe He is. Into each life some rain must fall.”
“You don’t think it’s something else?”
“Are you having second thoughts?” I asked. “About us?”
“No!” she said quickly. Too quickly.
I paused for a moment and decided that holding her by the legs was a lousy position for a longer conversation. Her back against the wall was even worse, literally and figuratively.
“Hold on,” I said, and she knew what I meant. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I carried her to the couch.
“Can I go to the bathroom first?” she asked.
I set her on her feet and patted her bottom. “Off you go.”
She returned a minute later. “Much better, thank you.”
“Right.” I waited for her to sit on my lap and get settled before I picked up where we’d left off. “Now, are you having second thoughts?”
She gave me a rueful grimace. “I was kinda hoping you’d forgotten.”
“Nope, sorry. Do you think God is trying to tell us something?”
“Maybe.” She glanced up. The rain had slowed a bit, but we could still hear it on the roof. “Like, maybe we have stormy weather in our future.”
I started to call her “Little Bit” but stopped abruptly. Another nickname popped into my head, and I smiled. She resisted the urge to fidget. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap and waited as I put my thoughts into words.
“I don’t care if we have stormy weather ahead,” I said at last. “As a matter of fact, I know we will. But I’ll always have you, my Sunshine.”
Her brow relaxed, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. She smiled instead. “You and your words,” she said fondly.
“They’re the best way to tell you what’s in my heart.”
“No, you do that every time you look at me.”
“I do,” I admitted, although she surprised me with a laugh. “What?”
“You. Even when you don’t mean to, you say exactly what I need to hear.”
I replayed my answer and then smiled. I’d only meant to reassure her, but I’d said the magic words anyway.
“Mmm hmm.” She inhaled a deep breath, held it pensively, and then exhaled in a long sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t know why I’m scared all of a sudden. Only, I sort of do. It’s for real, isn’t it? Till death do us part.”
I nodded.
“And… I’m scared.”
“I’m not.”
“Nothing scares you,” she accused, both teasing and serious.
“I get scared,” I said, “all the time, especially when I think of losing you. Or that I might not be good enough.” I paused and offered a wry admission, “I was definitely scared when I had to ask your father’s permission to marry you.” I waited a beat. “He said yes, by the way.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled affectionately. “You aren’t supposed to tell me. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Well, you figured it out.”
“I know. Only…”
I ducked and looked into her eyes. “Only… what?”
“I’m just being silly.”
“A little, but this is a big decision.”
“The biggest. Bigger than the big kahuna.” She thought of something and smiled. “That word, ‘kahuna.’ It’s Hawaiian. It really means a priest. And I suppose that’s what we’re talking about.”
I followed the Christy-logic and nodded. “A Catholic priest. And the rest of our lives. For real.”
“You can say that again,” she said under her breath. In a normal voice, “You really aren’t scared?”
“Of course I am. But I’m excited too. I’ve never felt this way before. About anyone.”
“I know. Me neither. I thought I did, but… I was wrong.”
“Does it feel right this time?”
“It does.” She smiled at a memory. “Marianne used to tell me what it was like, when she fell in love with Harry. She’s a total romantic. She talked about ‘walking on air’ and how she thought she might burst with love.” Her smile turned wry. “Lynne only said, ‘when it happens, you just know.’ I thought she was just being herself. You’ve met her; you know what she’s like. But she was right. When it happens, you just know. That’s how I feel. I just know.”
“I’m glad. Me too.”
Christy started to say something but then stopped.
I furrowed my brow. “What?”
“Listen.”
“I am.” I still didn’t hear anything. “Okay, what’m I listening for?”
“The rain. It’s stopped.” She smiled. “See? He was trying to tell us something after all.”
“Oh? What?”
“That we might have stormy weather ahead, but we’ll get through it… together.”
“We will.” I fell silent and had a thought, but Christy grinned before I could say anything.
“Yes, please.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!” I laughed.
“Of course I do.” She stood and gestured. “Come on.”
I levered myself off the couch. “I should probably worry—”
“That I can read your mind? Yes, probably. Now… are you coming?”
I took her hand, and she led me to the front door and then outside.
The air was thick with moisture in the wake of the storm. A yellow halo limned the light over the clubhouse, and the ballast buzzed softly. The pool pump whirred in the background, but it was the only other sound that broke the silence. The night chorus had all sought shelter from the storm.
Then a whippoorwill called, and another answered from across the clearing.
Christy turned and beamed. “See? They’re a couple. He is trying to tell us something.”
I only heard two birds, but she was looking for signs and portents.
“Maybe He is,” I allowed.
“We’re meant to be together.” She slipped into my arms and looked up at me, her face alight with the glow of faith. “He wants us to be happy.”
“Do you think He wants us to be happy in the pool?” I wondered.
“Please be serious. You know how important this is to me. I want God to be part of our lives. I know you don’t believe—not like I do—but I don’t think He’d’ve brought us together if He didn’t have plans for you too.”
I started to say something flippant but thought better of it. “Yes, dear.”
She frowned.
“I am being serious,” I said. “No, I don’t share your beliefs, but I want us to be happy. So I put my faith in you and me.” I didn’t think God had much to do with it, but I knew better than to say it aloud.
Christy probably heard my thoughts, but she accepted my words at face value. Then she pressed her cheek to my chest. She exhaled slowly, while I held her and waited for the moment to pass. I didn’t want to seem irreverent (again!), but I wasn’t in the mood for a long discussion about God and the nature of faith. I simply wanted to go for a swim and maybe get my rocks off. Yes, again. So sue me.