PeakExperience (16 page)

“You’re okay, yes?” he asked quietly when he could get words
out.

“I’m very beyond okay.”

He nibbled at her shoulders. “I’m glad.”

As he softened he slipped slowly out of her ass. She sighed
a little as her body contracted, but it was all pleasure. She rolled onto her
back when he went to the bathroom in the hall to throw away the condom. He
returned with a cool, damp washcloth and placed it between her legs. It was
delightful and exactly what she needed, even if it she didn’t know it. With him
she accepted herself as both passionate and precious. It was a heady
combination.

He held her tightly and she let the emotions of the
afternoon pass through her. She took more risks with him in the last few days
than she had in the last several years. It was wonderful. And so was he.

Listening to the beat of his heart, she knew there was
something she needed to tell him. When she watched him walk through her studio,
her heart, at first tight with tension, slowly eased. His reactions and
comments were more than she hoped for, and his obvious honesty was as precious
to her as his compliments. But that was only the start.

She never shared with anyone the hurt she experienced after
abandoning her dream of being a professional artist. Her parents knew because
of the changes she made in her life after the show, but she cut short all
conversations on the subject. After twelve years, only her mother was still
willing to mention it. Each time a family member enjoyed another art-related
success, part of her grieved.

Being with Daniel reopened that part of her. She wanted to
feel as alive as she did in her studio, as she felt with him, all the time,
which meant facing, accepting and sharing the pain in her past.

“I had a showing of my art once,” she said without any
preliminaries. “In the winter, before we met.”

“I had no idea,” he said, caressing her hair.

“No one did, other than my family and my husband.”

“Husband?”

“Yes, I was married. It lasted almost as long as my art
career. The event couldn’t have been a worse experience. It was a group showing
poorly reviewed, poorly received and poorly attended.”

“I understand how hard it must have been.”

And she knew he did. He allowed the world to see and judge
his art, and he was taking a huge risk with this campaign.

“It was the worst time of my life. It was bad enough I
already didn’t feel as successful as my somewhat outrageous family, but until
then I believed I might be as creatively talented as they are. With every review
I read, something in me withered. The critics used words like boring, prosaic
and conventional, and for some reason…” Her voice cracked. She couldn’t
continue. Daniel said nothing as he held her a little closer. He was there,
listening. She needed to say this, was going to say it. “I believed them.”

“Oh, my sweet Lena,” he whispered.

“I believed it when they wrote I was boring and conventional
because that’s what I always feared. I was the odd one, the unsuccessful one.
At art and marriage.”

“What happened to the marriage?”

“He was thrilled at my failure.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I chose him because he was so reliable, so straightforward.
Unfortunately, he saw my art as something to be indulged until I grew out of
it.”

“That’s wrong.”

She nodded. “He thought now that the art thing was out of my
system I would be ready to settle down and start a family.”

“He didn’t really say ‘art-thing’, did he?”

“I’m afraid so. The marriage ended soon after and I stopped
considering myself an artist in any real capacity. I still wanted to do
something creative so that September I started school to get my masters in
communications, which is where I met Michelle. Five years after graduation we
opened Crane and Fulton.”

“You’ve held on to this for a long time.”

“Yes, and I’ve held it very tightly. Being here with you,
sharing with you, I can see how it’s my shield, my way of coping with a loss
too big to accept.”

“And now?”

“Now,” she said over the lump in her throat. “I think I need
to cry.”

And she did. Without warning, great, racking sobs escaped
her and she let them pour out of her as freely as she allowed her passion to
earlier. Daniel said nothing, as he stroked her hair gently and kissed her
forehead. She was aware of him tangentially, as she surrendered to the pain and
loss that was finally able to come to the surface and find a long needed
outlet.

When she could manage words again she said, “It hurt,
Daniel. It hurt so much.”

“I know, my love. I know.”

“Why did I believe them? Why did I let it stop me?”

“You said it yourself. They hit on one of your greatest
fears and because they stated it as if it were fact, not opinion, you took it
to heart.”

The tears started again and this time she reached for him,
pulling him closer, letting herself accept his comfort, his understanding. She
cried for the young artist so deeply injured she allowed herself to be
silenced. She cried for the daughter and sister who pulled away from a loving
family who only wanted to understand and help her. For the woman who tried to
be a wife to a man who couldn’t accept her. And she cried in relief for feeling
all this and more with a man who did understand.

When she couldn’t cry anymore she looked at him in the late
afternoon light. “I don’t—”

“Shh,” he said, kissing her softly. “Rest and let me hold you.
Everything else can wait. Except dinner with the Pierces.”

She nodded and did as he said. Curling back into his arms
she snuggled against him, feeling safe and cared for. She needed nothing else.

* * * * *

They woke a few hours later and grabbed a shower together,
which almost made them late, and walked across the road to the Pierce’s
Shaker-blue colonial. Daniel had gone into town while Lena blew her hair dry
and bought a bouquet of flowers, which he handed to Mrs. Pierce when she opened
the door.

“Come in, come in. Aren’t these lovely? Martin,” she called
into the other room, “Lena and her gentleman friend are here. And they brought
flowers.”

Daniel had a few seconds to notice the cozy living room with
overstuffed furniture, bookshelves everywhere and photographs covering the few
empty spaces before he heard someone joining them.

“A strange man is bringing my lady flowers,” said a deep
voice. “I don’t know if I like that.”

Daniel knew the words were said in jest, but there was so
much authority in the voice he couldn’t stop himself from being a little
nervous. Lena saw the reaction and said quietly, “Mr. Pierce is the high school
principal and a former science teacher. He commands instant attention and
respect.”

“I believe it,” Daniel said as a man slightly shorter than
he with broad shoulders and gray hair entered the room. Lena was right. He
wanted to fix his posture and make certain the collar on his shirt was
straight. “Good evening, sir,” he said, holding out a hand. Not surprisingly,
he was met with a firm handshake.

“Martin Pierce. Nice to meet you. And you, missy?” He turned
to Lena. “Where’s my hug?” A second later Lena was enveloped in the arms of the
man, who, it was clear from the expression on his face, loved her like a
daughter.

Mrs. Pierce came back into the living room, carrying the
flowers in a vase. “Come, everyone, sit down for salad. Martin, open the wine.”

“This is a work of art, not a salad,” Lena said as a giant
bowl was passed around the table. Daniel couldn’t disagree. Besides a variety
of greens and tomatoes, Mrs. Pierce included feta cheese, avocadoes, dried
cranberries and sugared walnuts to create one of the most amazing blends of
flavors he’d ever enjoyed at the start of a meal.

When he reached for the bowl to have more, Mrs. Pierce
swatted his hand away. “You need to save your appetite for the rest of dinner.
You like my salad so much, I’ll put some in a container and you can take it
with you.”

He almost said something, but he knew arguing was pointless
and would make him look foolish. Instead he said, “I can’t wait to see what’s
coming next.” He caught Lena’s eye and she smiled. He had the distinct feeling
she tried something similar in the past.

The salad only hinted at the abundant meal they were served.
With the roast, Mrs. Pierce served scalloped potatoes with little bits of
bacon, green beans, carrots and the most tantalizing warm rolls he ever
enjoyed. As he ate one he heard Lena laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You moaned,” she said.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You did, Daniel,” Mr. Pierce chimed in. “But if it’s any
consolation, you’re not the first. My wife’s cooking is worthy of any and all
sounds of appreciation.”

“That it is,” Daniel agreed. “This is quite a feast, Mrs.
Pierce.”

“Nonsense, I love doing this,” she said, but Daniel saw her
blush with pleasure.

“The more people she has to cook for the happier she is,”
Mr. Pierce explained. “Me, I’m just happy to have the leftovers.”

“Not quite as much as usual, Martin dear. I have to give
some to these two to take back. You know our Lena, after all.”

“Okay, so I can’t cook. It’s not a disease.”

Mrs. Pierce patted her hand. “Maybe one day we’ll try those
cooking lessons again.”

“I’ll get extra insurance on the house,” Mr. Pierce said.

Daniel laughed and asked, “That bad?”

“It was when she tried to make French fries.”

Lena grimaced. “Oh, come on, we don’t have to bring this up
again, do we?”

“Too late,” Daniel said. “What happened?”

“Everything was going fine,” Mrs. Pierce said, “until she
tried to boil the oil.”

Daniel choked on a bite of vegetables. “You tried to
boil
oil?”

“Well, the oil always looks bubbly when you see fries being
made. I thought you had to get the oil really hot.”

“Not so hot that you incinerate the poor potatoes on
contact,” Daniel said.

“Yes, I know,” Lena said. “Now I do, anyway.” Daniel thought
her pout was cute. It made him want to kiss her. Although if he were truthful
with himself, almost everything she did made him feel that way.

“Fortunately, we could smell the oil heating from where we
were sitting in the living room and things were taken care of before they got
out of control.”

“Thank goodness,” Daniel said.

“Can I call for a subject change?” Lena asked.

“Absolutely,” Mr. Pierce said. He gallantly brought up
sports, which led to a discussion of fantasy baseball then baseball movies and
Lena was grateful not to be the focus of conversation for the rest of the meal.

“That was excellent,” Daniel said as he popped the last bite
of biscuit into his mouth.”

“Thank you. It’s always good to see food enjoyed,” Mrs.
Pierce said. “Lena, help me clear things so we can serve dessert. You have all
saved room for dessert, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Daniel said, knowing it was the only acceptable
answer.

“Such a smart boy,” Mrs. Pierce said with a smile.

* * * * *

Once in the kitchen Mrs. Pierce said, “You know why I asked
you in here.”

“To help with the dishes?”

“Of course not. To tell me about Daniel, you silly thing.
You’ve never brought a boy home, so I can’t compare him to others, but I have
to say from the way you two look at each other, there is something very special
going on.”

“There is,” Lena said.

Mrs. Pierce fixed her with a level gaze. “I hear a ‘but’
coming.”

“It’s complicated.”

Mrs. Pierce waved a hand in the air as she set the coffee
pot brewing. “Nonsense. You want it to be complicated.”

“No, I don’t.” Did she? Mrs. Pierce sounded so certain that
Lena had to wonder.

“Of course you do, sweetheart. We’ve all done it. That way
you don’t have to feel vulnerable or accept what you’re feeling, what’s really
going on.”

“Ouch,” Lena said, but couldn’t deny the accuracy of the
statement. “You have a knack for shining a bright light on the truth.”

“Thank you, but compliments aren’t going to change the
subject.”

“It’s not what I expected. He’s not what I expected.”

“They never are, dear.”

“We have differences.”

“Who doesn’t? It’s simply another excuse.”

“He’s a lot younger than I am,” Lena said. Saying it out
loud was harder than she thought, and she braced herself for judgment and
concern.

“What qualifies as a lot?”

“Twelve years.”

“Yes, I guess that is a good deal of time. It’s more than
what separates Martin and me.”

“You’re older than Mr. Pierce?”

“By over seven years.”

“I had no idea,” Lena said.

“That’s because I’ve aged well.” She laughed. “Nowadays
everyone assumes he’s older and there’s no reason or occasion to correct them,
but when we met, our friends and family were rather shocked. My sister tried to
talk me out of the relationship. Over forty years later I can definitely say
I’m glad I didn’t listen to her.”

“It couldn’t have been easy.”

“There’s no such thing as an easy relationship, Lena. People
are fallible, difficult and emotional. When two of them are together for a
lengthy period of time there will be good times and bad. You can count on it.”

“What made you decide to keep seeing Mr. Pierce, to marry
him?”

Mrs. Pierce didn’t answer immediately, and Lena appreciated
her taking the question seriously. “I think it was more about me then it was
about him. When I was with Martin, I could be myself. Maybe it’s because when I
started seeing him I thought it would be a short fling, nothing permanent, but
I was able to truly relax with him more than with any other man I dated before.
And then I discovered something wonderfully unexpected. I liked who I was when
we were together. There was no pretending or pretense. I didn’t talk to impress
him, or stay quiet to impress him for that matter. I was all of me and he loved
it. Loved me. That’s a very powerful thing.”