Part 41: link


    Guinevere is standing at the wardrobe, staring, wrapped in a towel. Unlike Arthur, she was not content to live from a suitcase and had placed her things there. She contemplates the black satin negligee she had bought as a surprise for Arthur. Sighing, she tucks it back into its hiding place. That would be too cruel. I’ll wear it tomorrow night.
    As she reaches for the familiar t-shirt, she spies the corner of something rectangular, crammed flat against the back, having partially slid down between the shelf and the cabinet. What’s this?
    “I don’t think that wardrobe leads to Narnia, if that’s what you’re staring at,” Arthur approaches behind her, wearing navy blue боксер briefs.
    “Arthur, is that a literary joke,” she smiles over her shoulder at him, “or did Ты only see the movies?”
    “Hey, I read the books!” he protests. “Well, some of them. At school. Because it was an assignment,” he finishes sheepishly.
    Gwen laughs and Arthur notices what she’s holding in her hand. “What’s that?”
    She holds it up for both of them to see. “It appears to be a фото of your parents.”
    “Where did Ты find that?” he looks closer, always hungry for glimpses of his mother.
    “It was jammed in the back of this wardrobe,” she hands it to him and pulls the рубашка on over her head, then pulls the towel down underneath it. Distracted by this new find, Arthur carries it over and sits with it on the bed.
    “This is before they were married. Look, she’s wearing the ring,” he points.
    Gwen sits beside him and looks at it. “She was so beautiful. And her personality comes through in this picture, too. Ты can see that she was a wonderful person.”
    “Look at my father. How he’s looking at her. I’ve never seen him look like that before,” Arthur whispers.
    “That’s exactly how Ты look at me, Arthur,” she tells him, Поцелуи his cheek.
    He smiles. “I guess I do have a few of his traits after all, then.”
    “The best ones, I’m sure. Your father was hard on you, Ты say, but I think Ты may be a little hard on him as well.”
    “Probably.” He sighs. “It can’t have been easy for him. I mean, I cannot even think about if…” he trails off, not even able to say the words. He swallows hard.
    Gwen slides her arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “You are as beautiful as your mother, Ты know. Inside and out.”
    “You don’t know how much I wish that I could have known her. Even for a little while. I hope that she would be proud of me.”
    “She is. And she’s watching over you. I’m sure of it. Both our mothers are up there,” she looks up, “keeping their watchful eyes on us. Making sure we behave. Keeping us safe. Who knows, maybe they are keeping one another company?”
    Arthur says nothing, contemplating her words. She smiles at him after a минута and nonchalantly wipes a tear from his cheek.
    “I’ll go get the огонь started,” she says, Поцелуи his shoulder and leaving him there with the photo.
    “Okay. Wait, what?” Her words didn’t register right away and he looks at her.
    “I. Am going. To light. The fire,” she exaggeratedly repeats.
    This forces a laugh from Arthur, who turns to watch her, thinking it will be top-notch entertainment.
    Guinevere finds some kindling and some newspaper, and she constructs an expert pyramid of wood over the twisted paper. She lights the newspaper in a few places, and waits patiently.
    The wood takes, and Arthur is both disappointed and impressed. Gwen puts some of the larger pieces of wood on, closes the fireplace doors, and turns back to Arthur.
    “You were expecting a different result?” she asks, noting his expression.
    “Maybe. I’m just… surprised. Ты do that better than I do.”
    “Arthur, you’re a fireman!”
    “Yes, I extinguish fires, I don’t start them.”
    “What about your training fires? Ты know, the buildings slated for demo and whatnot?”
    “We usually use some sort of accelerant to start those.”
    “So Ты cheat: Ты douse the place in petrol, fling in a match and call it a day?” She plunks down beside him on the bed.
    “Pretty much, yeah. So. Explain yourself.”
    “No, my father used to take us camping a lot when we were kids. I always seemed to have a knack for getting the campfire going.” She shrugs.
    “You slept in a tent and everything?”
    “Oh, God, no, we had a caravan. Father’s a bit of a princess that way,” she laughs, and looks back at the фото still gripped in Arthur’s hand.
    He looks down at it as well, and says, “So what should we do with this?”
    “We get it beautifully framed and give it to your father as a gift.”
    “But it’s creased, and this corner is damaged.”
    “Love, that can be restored. We just have to take it to the right place.”
    “The color is still good at least. I suppose because it was inside that dark wardrobe for years.”
    “Yes. It’ll make a wonderful Рождество gift. Unless his birthday is before then.”
    “It’s Далее month.”
    “Perfect.” She gently takes the фото and slides it carefully into a side pocket on her suitcase.
    He scoots under the covers, holding the blanket up for her to slide in beside him.
    “What’s with the underwear?” she says.
    “Didn’t bring anything resembling pajamas,” he grins at her.
    “That’s awfully presumptive of you,” she says.
    “Well, Далее time I’ll make sure to allow for head injuries.” He kisses her nose. “Speaking of, did Ты take anything?”
    “Shoot.” She starts to get up. He gently pushes her back down.
    “I’ll get it.”
    Gwen sits up, unpins her hair, and twists it into a braid while she waits. More comfortable this way. She reaches back to feel the bump on her head and thinks it’s gotten a little smaller, though it’s still quite tender.
    Arthur returns with a cup of water in one hand and Tylenol in the other. She takes them and hands the cup back to him. “Thank you.”
    He stops and puts a few еще pieces of wood on the огонь and switches off most of the lights before he climbs back in bed. He gathers her to him, and they lay facing each other, close together, watching each other in the dim light.
    “Tell me about your mother,” Arthur says simply.
    “I don’t remember much.”
    “Tell me what Ты remember,” he prods, stroking her cheek.
    “She was kind. Fair. I remember that she would go to great lengths to treat Elliot and me fairly and equally. He’s two years younger and a boy—was a boy—so it wasn’t always easy, I’m sure. I remember piles of gifts under the дерево at Christmastime. My father later told me that Mum would think she was done shopping and then see one еще thing that she had to get for one of us. So then that meant she had to find something for the other to even it out again.” She smiles at the memory. Arthur takes her hands in his, holding them between their two bodies.
    “I loved her hair. It was so soft, like yours. Mine is еще coarse, thanks to my father, and I was always jealous of hers. She’d let me brush it sometimes. Being little, I’d usually make a great bloody mess of it, but she would still let me.”
    “I Любовь your hair,” Arthur says, releasing one of her hands to twirl an errant curl around his finger.
    “Most people want what they don’t have. I always wanted to have sleek, wavy hair, like Morgana’s. She always envied my curls. Human nature.”
    She continues. “I get my Любовь of cooking from her. She’d let me help in small ways, as much as I could. I’d drag a stepstool into the кухня from a hall closet and насест, окунь Далее to her. I could scramble an egg and cook макаронные изделия, макароны by the time I was five.”
    “I can barely do that now,” Arthur says.
    Gwen laughs at him. “We’ll work on that. Mind you, I wasn’t allowed to crack an egg until a few years later. She let me try once while I was helping her make a quiche. I was a little overenthusiastic about it and the entire egg ended up on the floor.”
    “At least Ты didn’t get shell everywhere. That’s the problem I always have,” he laughs.
    “Why does that not surprise me?” She twines her fingers with his, and sticks her cold toes between his calves. He doesn’t even jump. In fact, he smiles when he feels her cool touch on his legs.
    “What else?” he asks, freeing one hand to stroke it along the side of her neck.
    “She was very smart.”
    “What did she do?”
    “I’m not entirely sure, exactly; some kind of engineer. My father сказал(-а) that he was initially attracted to her brain.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. And I don’t believe him for a second.”
    Arthur laughs, remembering the picture he saw. “Your mother was beautiful, too. It must have been very difficult to watch her…”
    “…die?” Gwen finishes. He nods. “It was, but Dad shielded us from a lot of it. I was only eight, remember? Old enough to understand, but too young to be able to fully be exposed to all the details. Elliot and I spent a lot of time at our grandparents’ house towards the end.”
    Arthur leans вперед and kisses her, slowly and softly, lingering over her lips. “I Любовь Ты so much,” he whispers.
    “I Любовь you, too Arthur,” she whispers back, eyes closed.
    “Why?” Arthur asks, and Gwen slowly opens her eyes. His are twinkling at her.
    “Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” she asks, smiling. She snuggles into the cozy world they’ve created in the center of the large bed, a world where there is only the two of them and nothing else matters.
    “I spilled my guts. Now it’s your turn,” he says, Поцелуи her again as motivation, his tongue teasing her lips briefly, willing them to part for him. She does, but only briefly.
    “I can’t tell Ты if Ты keep Поцелуи me,” she tells him as he continues to Kiss her.
    She leans back, pulling her face away from his, and holds his cheeks between her hands.
    “I Любовь Ты because from the moment Ты smiled at me on that dance floor, I could no longer remember my life before Ты were in it and was no longer able to picture my life without Ты in it. I Любовь your creative mind. I Любовь your charismatic personality; the way Ты draw people to Ты and they cannot help but like you. I Любовь Ты because Ты make me feel like the most beautiful, most cherished person in the entire world. I Любовь how your eyes get all crinkly when Ты smile at me.” She kisses him once, and touches the corner of one eye gently with her fingertips.
    “I Любовь Ты because Ты aren’t afraid to be vulnerable with me. I Любовь Ты because underneath your tough-guy exterior, you’re a soft, caring person with a beautiful heart. I Любовь Ты because you’d rather help people than push their money around. I Любовь Ты because Ты make me laugh еще often and harder than anyone else ever has. I Любовь Ты because Ты make my dull life interesting. I Любовь your hands.” She takes his hands in hers, looking at how large they are in comparison to her own. She lifts them to her lips and kisses his knuckles.
    “I Любовь this tooth,” she says, poking his crooked front tooth with her finger when he opens his mouth to laugh. She continues, running her fingertips along his brow, brushing against his hair. “I Любовь that Ты are yourself with me and that I can be myself with you, completely honest and without fear. At the risk of freaking Ты out, I Любовь Ты because I know Ты will be a wonderful father.” She peeks at him and relaxes when she sees a smile creep over his face, almost against his will. “I Любовь Ты because I am not complete without you. I Любовь Ты because Ты aren’t perfect, but you’re perfect for me.”
    He looks across at her, his eyes aflame with a Любовь she can actually see. “Guinevere…” he sighs, his voice thick and rough with emotion.
    “Oh yes, I forgot that one, didn't I? I Любовь that all Ты have to do is say my name and I turn into a puddle of hot goo,” she whispers.
    He smiles at her and leans over to Kiss her, his hand on the side of her neck, thumb gently stroking the line of her jaw. “You Любовь my hands?” he asks, breaking the kiss.
 Gwen laughs and takes one of his hands between hers.
    “Yes. Ты have remarkably beautiful hands for a man. Especially considering your line of work.” She massages the sturdy muscles of his hand for a moment, contemplating it. “Not to mention,” she kisses the tip of his index finger, “how they feel,” she kisses his middle finger, “when Ты touch me.” The ring finger, then the pinky.
    He closes his eyes as she turns his hand and kisses his palm, the touch of her lips on the sensitive flesh there sending a line of огонь through his body. Arthur swallows, squeezing his eyes together.
    “You aren't making this very easy for me, Ты know,” he tells her, eyes smoldering. “You have no idea how much I want Ты right now.” His voice is low, quiet.
    She releases his hand, saying, “Sorry. But Ты did ask.” She thinks a moment before saying, “I promise I’ll make it up to Ты tomorrow,” with a sly smile, remembering the negligee she set aside earlier.
    His eyes open wide, intrigued at her tone. “Oh, really?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.
    She leans over again, her hands now on his chest, and she kisses him ardently but briefly. “Yes,” she says simply.
    His lips find hers again and he pulls her close, his hands bunching the material of her рубашка in his fists. Gwen sighs against him as her lips part beneath his, their tongues melding, seeking one another out. Arthur’s hands flatten back out and caress her back as he leans further into her, rolling her onto her back. Guinevere squeaks again as the tender spot on her head presses into the pillow.
    Arthur pulls away gently, his breathing ragged. “Sorry,” he says, rolling them back to where they were. He raises his hand to her head and touches it very gently, concern in his eyes.
    “No, I’m sorry,” she says, closing her eyes again. I hope it feels better tomorrow.
    “Come here,” he says, laying on his back and pulling her to lie against him, her head on his shoulder. “This okay? For your head, I mean?”
    “Yes,” she says, cuddling into him and placing her hand on his chest. “The огонь is dying.”
    “Let it. I don’t want to get up, and neither do you,” he says, brushing a few stray curls back away from her face. She chuckles, closing her eyes.
    “Go to sleep, love,” he tells her, reaching to turn off the last remaining light. He kisses her forehead before closing his own eyes.

Part 43: link