Love's Forbidden Flower (31 page)

With a touch to his chin I raise his eyes to mine. There is no other way to express myself than with but a gentle kiss and a single word.

“Forgiven.”

Through his tears, he looks at me as if a more beautiful word never existed.

Just when it didn’t seem possible, my love for him is deeper than ever. His victimizers have failed in a fiery blaze, accomplishing nothing but sending a defeated message of hate. “Those people lied to you about so many things. You are not a horrible person. As much as I knew we’d work, I never dreamed we could be so happy. Don’t ever let anyone get to you with lies again.”

I sit in front of my monitor, hugging my knees, eyes diverted. There is so much to tell Christopher; how I miss him, how I love him and always will, how despite all of that, I am now permanently off the market. Every one of them is painful, unapproachable, and necessary.

“Christopher, please don’t ever say that again. Let’s never say we're afraid the other is going away and accept that we will always be close and always love each other no matter what happens. It'll just be easier on us both.”

Christopher possesses the same cautious look he did when I spouted off about Graham Nash and told him we had to part. At least this time I'm calm, albeit vacant.

“I’m sorry, luv. It’s just I always hate how I've lost you.” His hand drops onto his desk, and he turns away. His verbal restraint is relieving. Without it, this call would be so much harder. He taps his fingers on his desk as if pondering a dilemma before looking to me with concern over my silence and dimmed eyes. “Darling, are you all right? Do you need to tell me something?” His hand extends as if to touch me.

“Christo—Christopher, it’s Donovan.”

“Donovan? I thought the two of you were getting on since your father died. Don’t tell me you're at it again.”

“No, it’s not that. We get along perfectly. Better than ever.” The attention my eyes give to my knees shelters them from view. “In fact, he's transferring schools, and we're getting an apartment together. Having him back in my life is better than I ever could've imagined.”

“Then what's the trouble, luv?”

My gaze returns to him. Seeing his still outstretched hand, I can't bring myself to reciprocate. “I don’t know how to say this.” I take a deep breath and brace myself as the truth I must fully face arises from my lips. “Donovan may be mentally unstable, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Lilyanna, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

I’m beyond serious, but the words won’t come as I stare at Christopher’s image.

“Darling, are you in danger? Is he hurting you?”

I shake my head and grab for air. “No. I’m fine. He’d never touch me or anyone else. My only concern is for him. Christopher, something is dreadfully wrong. It’s a long story, but I finally learned why he turned into such a terrible person. I’m trying to help him, but there is only so much I can do.”

“You need to get him professional help. You can’t take this on yourself.”

“I’m trying, but the abuse he suffered was at the hands of people who called themselves therapists. After what happened to him he doesn’t trust anyone. Only me.”

“Then we need a plan in case the right time ever presents itself. Come on, luv. I’ll help you.”

“The most amazing Christmas Eve dinner ever,
just
for you.”

“Ummm. Keep kissing me like that and we may never get around to eating it.”

With my heart singing I turn to resume my task of removing the strings from green beans. “Normally I wouldn't complain, but I've spent all day cooking. It's really hard to plan a feast for two without having leftovers for a month.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe I'm saying this, but I really hope there's no turkey in this place.”

“Wow! Who are you? Yeah trust me, none at all. I couldn't even bring myself to cook a duck for fear if we ate any more bird we'd sprout wings and fly away.”

He nuzzles his face into my neck and starts nibbling goose bumps onto my body. The act makes my cheek nuzzle his. “Ah, are you cooking a ham just for me?”

“And that brings us to being what we eat.”

“Cute, Lil.” He goes in for one last peck on the cheek before abandoning me for the sofa. “Since you don’t need my help I think I'll get caught up on a little TV.”

“It was very sweet of you to offer though.” Thank God he didn't try to help. The only ones worse in a kitchen than him are Dad and Christopher. Good Lord!

My nightmarish memories of Christopher wielding a knife in an attempt to help me carve a Thanksgiving turkey are interrupted as a muted knock comes from the front door.

“Hey, are we expecting anyone?” Donovan asks.

“Maybe Santa's coming early with our haul,” I say, running in from the kitchen.

“Yeah, what did you ask for that he had to come this early and bring it thought the front door?”

Stopping him just shy of turning the knob, my eyes sparkle into his. “I didn't ask for a thing. Christmas came very early for me this year, and I've no need for anything else.” My words are accentuated with a kiss.

A defeated game show contestant feels better than I do when Donovan reveals that behind our door is one of the most threatening people to ever cross his path. He looks frostier than the snow outside our window at the sight of our deceitful mother. She's on a quest for peace, knowing full well she won’t find it.

With reservation, I welcome her in. As she sits, Donovan drags me into the kitchen; his fire has returned. “Are you crazy?”

“Obviously! Let’s just hear her out. She's in our territory and there's no reason to cater to her. Remember all the attitude you had when you told her off? Bringing back a little of that right now might not be so bad. Just don’t cower.”

“Me? Cower?” My cocky man baulks at the notion.

The traitor seems anxious to run while Donovan leans against the wall with the requested attitude coming into view. Silently I scream for him to join me on the sofa. His rolling eyes seem to be his brain’s cue to trigger annoyance as he obliges and sits with me as a barrier between him and Mom. Allowing her near Donovan is risky with how fragile he's been. Prayers are quickly sent to heaven that her being here isn’t a mistake. Hopefully her inability to face us is an indicator of timidity.

“I came to apologize to you both, but mostly to you, Donovan. Taking over your every move and emotion was callous. I stand by trying to change your feelings toward Lily, but it should have been approached differently. You both deserved real help with a trusted professional instead of barbarians who tortured Donovan. Deep down I knew how you felt about each other, and my not admitting it was cowardly. I did everything a parent isn't supposed to do, starting with not listening. That was the biggest mistake of my life, and all of us will always suffer for it. I am truly, truly sorry.”

For the first time since her arrival, Mom musters her courage and fully faces her son. “Donovan, I take full responsibility for all you went through. You have every right to despise me, and I truly know that you do. You never deserved such treatment. A gentle and loving person like you should never be forced to become his opposite because of someone else’s biases. Parents are supposed to nurture their children and shape them into good people. I completely failed you.”

Before we can respond she heads for the door—fearing we may say all of the things we are entitled to. “I should leave now. I don’t want to ruin your night.” We politely follow. As she turns the doorknob the love she shows pains her, but at least it is there. “Are you two really happy together? Is this what you truly want?”

“Yes, Mom. She's exactly as I thought. I love her more than I ever expected was possible.”

I'm astounded not by Donovan’s sentiment, but by his public vocalization of truth. His brain is starting to gather the pieces of a dropped puzzle that has fallen down a long stairway and reassemble them.

“Well, Merry Christmas to you both. I genuinely do hope you are happy.”

There are no parting words for my mother as I accompany her to the car. Once there she pauses, wanting to hug her daughter but obviously afraid. It’s best she keeps her distance. Her damage to Donovan may be permanent, and her betrayal will always torment me. But her intentionally brief appearance here was for Donovan’s benefit, so any bit of hurt I feel is worth anything he gains.

Through eyes soaked in tears of remorse she leaves me with words that destroy me all over again. With all that has happened they may be the last words I'll ever let myself hear from her.

“Thank you for trusting me to do this. God knows I don’t deserve anyone’s faith. Take care of yourself dear, and take care of my boy.”

His arms drop to his sides with a whimper. “I had to decorate it some way. I left the good room as ‘your room.’ You can do anything you want, and I'll have to tolerate all your pink flowers and girly things, so be nice to me.”

Donovan looks a tad miffed, and he should. He's been working his butt off trying to cram everything into this tiny two-bedroom apartment that’s in a building that would have been new to our great grandparents. My teasing is a little inappropriate, but why stop when I'm having so much fun?

“Oh! I know. Not Richie Cunningham. What was his name? The older brother that was into sports. Chuck! This looks like it should belong to Chuck Cunningham. Remember how Dad always said they dumped the wrong brother and should've gotten rid of the wussy one?”

“Stop it, Lil,” he says while blinking his eyes at me in annoyance, making me crank up the dial on the perkiness meter.

“It’s just so… peachy! Oh, D-boy, look at how cute you are, all annoyed and stuff!” I pat his cheek before one glance at the bed makes me change my tone. “That looks totally uncomfortable.”

“That's because it's not really a bed,” he says, raising a finger to it. “It's one of those things that is both a bad bed and a terrible sofa. See, you jest but I actually thought this out.” He walks to the desk and demonstrates how wings fold up from underneath. “The bed rolls up and the desk doubles in size so this is where we can study, not that a snooty graduate like you needs to. But I thought you might like the option.”

“That's very thoughtful. No wonder why I love you.” I slip my arms around his waist. My gleam is one that would normally make him throw me onto any bed, sofa, or chair, regardless of its comfort level.

“Oh, hey. You need to sign this stuff.” He attempts to hand me some papers off of the desk, but I'm far too busy kissing his neck. “I added you to the lease, and this is the signature card for my bank accounts. Since you're managing the finances you should be able to move stuff around as you need to.”

Damn right I'm in charge of the finances. He's terrible with money, and I have a master plan that—with my new job—we'll only touch our savings for his education. I have high hopes that when he's done we'll have enough left to put a down payment on a condo so we can have a happy little home. Our future is set, we just have to be sure not to screw up.

“Kiss now, talk later.” I say with a shortness of breath. Donovan carelessly throws the papers into the air and obliges. Grabbing his face, my tongue dances with his before we plunge onto the bed.

“Ouch! This actually is worse than it looks!” A crowbar is needed to pry Donovan off of me. “Come on, let me up.”

His nibbles on my ear send tingles up my spine. “Deal with it.”

My resistance stops long enough for him to let his guard down so I can force him onto his back. “Only if you're on the bottom.”

His eyes of a caged animal set free reveal what kind of ideas surround him as he pulls my head towards his lips and kisses me feverishly before abruptly stopping. “You're right. This bed sucks. Let’s finish getting ours set up.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Wuss. It was nice of those guys to help us get it up the stairs. Who were they again?” I ask as I rise.

“Just two guys from downstairs. The skinny one thinks you’re hot.” Donovan winks and purses his lips together. “Ooh.”

“Really?” My face contorts like it’s just had a run-in with a bitter lemon.

“What? I thought you like them scrawny.”

My eyes scathe as I depart for the real bedroom. I've yet to tell Christopher all the things I should, and it gets harder every day. Since learning my concerns over Donovan, he's brought himself back into my life. Christopher checks on me constantly and helps me finds bits of courage to talk to Donovan regarding getting professional help. He deserves some semblance of honesty. Hopefully it won’t kill what we have.