The Return

 The Return 

Chapter 1 

The Gathering Storm 

 

Listening to Rossini, she was brought back to what Beethoven had said about his works, and even though she loved Beethoven, she liked Rossini also, and didn’t in the least think of his work as “fluff. At times, she did however feel like invading Poland herself when she listened to the Ninth Symphony of Beethoven’s, and never understood why it had not played at chess tournaments or battlefields.

She brushed her long hair, in one stroke of the brush, first one side and then the other, flipping it over her face, bending her head and getting the back just like her gran always made her do. She was pensive today for some reason. It was hot, and although it had rained a little a while ago, it wasn’t humid as it usually gets on the last days of August. The sun was out, and setting in the west in a fireball of oranges and reds. Even the sky took on a pinkish hue of iridescent color. It was pretty out, but she knew it wouldn’t last. A storm was going to brew before sunrise. She could feel it. The moon was in the darkness right now, and would be full in a few days. Energy was building, not only in the atmosphere, but inside her as well.

She couldn’t put a finger on her mood today. It was not a bad one. It was not a great one like it had been. She could not discern it to be a calm one, because she felt so jittery inside. However, she wasn’t nervous either. It irked her that she felt this way. When she couldn’t put a name to her emotions, she walked the floors, cleaned the place, plucked the garden dry of every weed there was. It was good to get things done, that was no argument, but she didn’t like this feeling of expectancy. Like, something was going to happen, but she didn’t know what. That was it. Something was going to happen. It bothered her slightly that she just couldn’t figure out for the life of her as to what it was going to be. She didn’t like surprises. Well, Christmas and anytime she got a gift was an exception to the rule. It was that kind of…unknown dark surprise that scared her. But what could it be?

She shooed it off, chalking it up to the unpredictable southern weather. It always does this to me, she thought to herself. It’s the electricity in the air is all. She finished her hair, flipping it back out of her way as she thought to find a hair band to braid it with later. As hot as it was, she sometimes just wanted her hair down instead of up all the time. Her brown hair was thick; she took that back after her gran who was Cherokee. It would do for her to wash it later. That may cool her down, some cold water upon her neck and head. She got up and went through the house into the library where the bar had been kept since time immoral. A mint julep just might calm her nerves this evening. The sun was quickly fading as she noticed storm clouds coming in from the East fast approaching.

She found the bourbon and poured some in the tall glass. Then just a little more, knowing that it was just a bit much, but she didn’t care. She fixed it to suit her taste and a bit more always suited her in times like these. She got the sugar out pouring a teaspoon in the amber liquid. Next the mint, and the crushed ice from the small freezer hid neatly behind a mahogany door.She stirred well, getting a little more mint for garnish. Rossini had quit playing and now it was Wagner’s turn to enchant her with his Das Reingold.She never checked to see what followed whom, always wanting to let it just flow with who would pop up next. She loved guessing the music, just to see if she could get it right. She loved classical, ballet, opera, and the musicals. No one else in her family remotely was interested in those things. But, she was always wanting to learn new and different things, new and different languages. She loved listening to French and even took it in school. She did good, and learned a few of the less desirable words to go along with it, but now..it was a distant memory. She could still tell someone to go to hell, and quite possibly suck something, although after she thought about it..that word probably meant butter instead of dick.

She sat in the oversized blue recliner that was next to the large windows looking out amoung the orchard. Soon, it would be time to harvest the apples and peaches. The blooms had already fallen off and she could tell the hard nubs that had been there the month before were now beautifully formed peaches and apples. She had done good to keep what was there, fighting everyone in the family to stave off ultimate decimation of the orchard that her grandfather had worked so hard to plant, cultivate and finally pick to sell at the local General Store all those years ago.

Winter. Too far off to think of that right now. The sky was getting darker, and yes, she thought she heard a vague rumbling in the east. Storm is going to be bad; it is coming from the east instead of west this time. The window was open, and a breeze began to blow, warm at first, then turning cooler as the moments progressed. She shivered, not because of the drink or the wind. No, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something. Something is coming…

She got up and lit a candle. She had electrical of course. She just loved the way the candles would throw off shadows that danced on the walls like two lost lovers in an embrace. The wind blew the long white tapers out. She walked over to the window to close it, and shutter them for the night. Something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Was that someone under the tree at the far side? She looked intently again to see if she could see anything, but saw nothing this time. She giggled nervously. Just her imagination. Just a trick of the lightening and limbs of the trees hanging down. Moss. It was the moss in the two hundred year old oak tree out there. That’s all it was.She turned, relit the candles and walked to the big double doors to shut them. She loved to keep them open during the day and into the evening hours letting the breeze flow through the big plantation house. It had begun to spatter the rain big dabs intermittently at first, then the heavens opened up and the tears of the Creator fell as if out of a broken heart.

A chill went down her back. The air wasn’t cold enough to do that, and the rain was not that bad either. She hated this, and checked herself to put a lot more Jack in the julep next time, which was right in a few seconds. As she turned again, she thought she saw something. Looking both ways now, nothing.

She turned to go in, treading lightly on the oak floor. She went through the foyer, starting up the long winding staircase that had felt the footsteps of 4 generations of her family, and ran right into him. Wet, soaking was his leather duster and faded tan cowboy hat. Rain was dripping from his long brown hair and he had that big grin on his face. She instinctively punched him in the gut. He loved doing that to her. He also knew she hated being scared that way. His hair was longer than she remembered from the last time, reaching down to his shoulders. Memories flooded back to those moments when she would lie in bed watching him sleep, playing softly with his soft locks, as she was sure Delilah had Sampson’s so many thousand years ago.

He grimaced as his hands went to his bruised stomach. “What was that for? I thought you’d be pleased to see me, not knock the wind outta me!” he straightened up and gave her that grin again. He knew she couldn’t resist it, and she knew she couldn’t either, and that pissed her off worse of all.

She hid her excitement at him being there. It had been a long time. Far too long, she had dreamed of him, made love to him in those dreams as she used to. After a while, the dreams got less and less until there was none and his memory just another faded photograph she kept on her nightstand.

Crossing her arms in front of her all she could do was look at him. He still had that effect on her, as she was sure he did every woman. What was there not to love and or potentially lust after? Tall, chiseled features, high cheekbones, hazel eyes and that imploring look within them. Those eyes and that smile, all she had to do was look into them and before she knew it, she was damp in places that shouldn’t be. What the hell Reigne, take hold of yourself girl! It’s NOT like he’s NOT here for a reason her mind told her.

“Well, aren’t you gonna say anything? Or are you just going to stand there with those arms crossed over those..bosoms of yours.” He laughed that deep throaty laugh of his.“Why yes, ah thank ah will say something..” she said in that fake southern drawl she used to express herself when pissed.

She batted her eyelids like she had a bug stuck in the corner of one, and fanned herself with one hand while the other sat down the candelabra and went to her left hip. “Mistah Nichols, quite frankly I don’t give a good godsdamn!”

She whipped around, tears stinging her eyes trying to make her way back down the stairs before he grabbed her to face him.

She heard him calling through heartbeats as she felt his arms encompass around her. She knew then that it was over. She had no other place to run. She felt his lips on her neck as he brushed her hair aside. He tenderly turned her around to face him, wiping her wet cheeks, kissing her eyes as he himself remembered how her skin felt against his hot lips.

“Don’t.” she whispered, almost inaudibly. Her mind was reeling from all of this. It had been too long and this was such as it should never be again.

“I can’t. I can’t stop.” He whispered back hoarsely, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her down on the hard floor, smothering her with kisses from behind her ear, trailing down her neck and resting his head finally on her heaving chest. His fingers wrapped around her wrists as they held them suspended above her head, He could feel her struggle at first, then going limp. He felt her hands close in on his own as if they were searching for comfort from his sweaty palms.

“I’ve wanted to come back for so long. I never wanted to leave you, but…” his voice cracked and trailed off as the lump in his throat refused to go away. He would never be able to explain it to her. The reason left to begin with and why he had returned tonight, of all nights, he came to invade her presence and letting his heart show all over again. Gods how this could be such a double-edged sword. He never meant to hurt her, but she would never be able to believe that. He knew her. Once her heart grew cold and turned to stone not even Michelangelo himself could chip away at the stone.

Her breathing had settled down to almost normal. She was still in shock. This was nothing but a very vivid dream. She’s fallen asleep in the chair while the rain came pouring down out of the heavens in buckets. The Jack had lulled her into a state of drowsiness and this was the result of her not drinking that much and not being used to what she had imbibed in.

She opened her eyes, seeing his head still resting on her chest. She could smell his cologne; the rain-dampened hair was starting to curl slightly on the ends. She licked her lips and thought of what to say. After all, this was NOT the most comfortable position to be in. She squirmed just a bit, enough to have him look up at her and once again smile.

Clearing her throat she inquired as best she could in a steady voice, “ Shane. Do you plan on letting me up or are we to die like this in our old age?” she smiled, licking her dry lips again as she felt him move, just a bit before looking back up at her.

“I’ll move only if you promise not to take off like a bat out of Hades again.” Her scent was intoxicating. This wasn’t her usual perfume she wore. This was hints of Chinese magnolia petals and the velvety scent of vineyard peach. Those two scents came through but he couldn’t recognize the other smell. Whatever it was, it was driving him mad. He always was turned on the smells, and regardless of whom he was with, it was the smell of their hair, perfume or body that always sent him over the edge. He breathed deep again, taking in all of her scent along with the mint julep she’d drank just an hour before.

She sighed. If she was ever to get up from here, she would have to or he would stay all night in this stupid position. Her back was beginning to ache from the small runs of hardwood. “Fine. FINE DAMNIT. I’ll not run. I’ll be good! I’ll not go anywhere.” Her words pierced his ears as she yelled the first ones, the others drifting off into thin air by the last word uttered.

He slowly released her hands, his own falling away, and pushing himself up from her. Reluctant at first, he just simply did not want to move from that spot. He heard her heartbeat once again, as he used to such a long time ago. His heart skipped a beat at the memory of lying in bed with her, the floor length windows open to the large balcony, the wind billowing the long sheer white curtains that hung in her bedroom. He got up quickly, losing his balance and smacked the wall with a dull thud. She started to giggle, still laying there. It couldn’t be helped. It just came out. She saw the look of surprise on his face as he stumbled, then hit kersmack right into the wall. She knew it was her nerves, but she couldn’t stop. Fits of cackles came out of her mouth as tears ran down her cheeks, this time in laughter instead of heartache.

He stood there, stunned at her peals of giggles. “Why are you laughing? I could have fell on top of you and squashed you like the little bug you are!” he said, ego bruised and smarting from her flight.

She sat up, getting herself under control. “I..” she stuttered, “I’m sorry. It was the look on your face as you had that split second of falling.” She started to giggle again, but quickly cleared the remaining laughter from her throat, shifting her gaze from him to the lightening that just struck outside.

She felt his hand on hers, helping her up from the floor. “Well now that we’ve broken that awkward ice, how about a drink? I can tell you have already started before me, and I’m thirsting to death right now.”

He walked toward the library not looking back to see if she was following.. Awkward wasn’t the word for it. She was experiencing these emotions earlier today. Her soul was trying to warn her ahead of time that he was what was coming, not the storm. Wait though. He was always her storm.