Make love to me first with words.
He had done that, and then some. I had stacks of his letters in my dresser drawer, written since I had asked him to give me words. I would take them out and reread them each night by lamplight.
Sometimes certain phrases or even the simple curve of a letter would send my fingertips tingling.
I looked down at the hand holding mine, the fingers that had written those powerful words of apology and devotion. There was a charge there that raced from his hand to my fingerstips to my lower spine. I had almost forgotten how intoxicating that sensation was.
He leaned forward tentatively.
I closed my eyes in anticipation, awaiting the feel of his rough beard against my face. I could smell his soap.
Just as his lips touched mine for the first time, there was a cry from Anne in the other room. Not her sleepy whimpering wake up cry. It was a full on, angry sob as if she knew that I was betraying her father’s memory at that very instant. He kissed in earnest until it was clear that she would not settle down.
He moved away, amusement playing on his lips. A half smile hung suspended there.
“I will get her,” I sighed.
“No, I will go.” He applied gentle pressure to my shoulder indicating I was to sit down and wait for his return.
I eased myself down onto the sofa and folded my hands onto my lap to wait.
He knew nothing of changing diapers or feeding or soothing a child. It would not be long.
As expected. Anne would have nothing of it, of this man. The wailing creacendoed as she refused to calm down.
Two minutes later he returned with a red faced, tear stained Anne who turned silent as soon as she saw me.
He placed her on my lap, apologetically.
“It’s alright. Shhhhh,” I murmured.
I held her close. She rested her warm, damp head on my shoulder, fuzzy hair tickling my chin. A quiet hiccup, then a contented sigh as she drifted off to sleep again.
“I will go,” he whispered. He bent down and kissed my forehead, then the top of Anne’s head. “Until next week…”
I watched him grab his hat and let himself out.
Tonight I would not need his words. My lips felt raw from his earlier kiss. Love lingered there.