“Don’t cry, little fairy.”
The endearment he used to call her, that she hadn’t heard in so many years before today and had felt so wonderful earlier, now only made her sob harder. Fat, ugly sobs that left her gasping for air. The brush of his thumb over her cheeks wiped away the moisture, only to be replenished instantly. But she didn’t want to be touched right now. Especially not when they were both naked. Her body curled in on itself and she turned away from him. If only she could disappear. Vanish into nothingness and avoid this moment of pain and humiliation…
The mattress undulated as Michael jumped from the bed. She heard him moving around the room. Was he leaving? But a moment later he pressed a soft cloth to her hands and she realized he had retrieved her shift from the floor and offered it to her. She grabbed it with trembling fingers and he immediately turned and disappeared into the dressing room.
That was it, then. He was so disgusted he couldn’t stand another moment in her presence. She awkwardly donned her shift and then curled up in the bed once more. The sobs were subsiding, but pervasive desolation soaked her soul. She had ruined everything. Had destroyed the moment that was supposed to be a joyful and loving reunion.
But Michael returned after a few moments, dressed in his shirt and trousers, her thick dressing gown in his hands. Without a word he wrapped it around her. How did he know this was precisely what she needed? She needed as many layers as she could possibly wear to cover her body. Her shame.
After she was enfolded in the lush fabric of the robe, covered from neck to toes, he sat again on the bed.
“Can I hold you now? I only want to comfort you. I can’t bear to see you crying.”
She nodded, hesitant but willing to try because she suspected he needed this almost more than her. She steeled herself totolerate his embrace, but as soon as his arms came around her, warm, comforting, safe, the sense of well-being that enveloped her was as unexpected as it was life giving. She had never experienced an embrace like this. An embrace that gave unconditional refuge without demanding anything in return.
She clung to him, her sobs slowly subsiding to the occasional hiccup. When Josie could trust her voice, she asked, “What are you thinking? You must be very disappointed.”
“I am. But not for the reason you are thinking.”
“Oh? Is it not because you were denied your pleasure? Because you thought you could recapture what we had before and have instead discovered that I’m nothing but a shadow of my former self? A hollow, broken—”
“Stop. It’s none of that. What disappoints me, what tears at my soul, really, is that you thought you had to pretend with me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see any other way.”
“First of all, cease apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for. Second, you could have simply told me what you were feeling or ordered me to stop. I would have. Even without explanations.”
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” She burrowed deeper into his chest, inhaling his aroma of forest, leather, and soap, allowing it to soothe her ravaged soul.
“You don’t have to worry about my feelings, love.”
“It wasn’t you I was rejecting.”
His arms around her tightened and he nuzzled the top of her head, but it was comforting, rather than frightening.
“I understand. Did you know that sometimes soldiers experience emotional injuries after battle?” At her small shake of the head against his chest, he went on. “Doctors call it ‘soldier's heart’, because it produces chest pains, tremors, and palpitations. Some soldiers, even if they survive with their bodies intact, their minds are broken, and that can manifestin sudden and unexpected ways, with outbursts of panic, disorientation. You are like a soldier who has survived a great battle, Josie. I suspect the emotional damage is extensive. But I believe with patience and support, you can overcome it. And I’ll be here to hold you and help you in any way I can.”
His voice, deep, steady, matter-of-fact and kind but without pity, soothed her fears. “But I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
“You are not. Josie, can you look at me?” When she raised her moist eyes to look at him, he went on. “Being with you, in whatever capacity, is a pleasure and an honor, never a burden.”
“You can’t mean that. You can’t enjoy being with a woman so damaged that she can’t even…” She trailed off, unable to even mention the word sex.
“But I do. Do you think the only pleasure I derive from you is of a sexual nature?”
When she mulishly refused to respond, he continued. “It’s not. I enjoy watching you walk in the gardens or play with your nephew. I treasure every timid smile you allow. I live for our lazy conversations, when we can talk about anything or nothing at all. I relish sitting in the corner of your laboratory, watching you distill and mix potions with single-minded focus. A little furrow forms between your eyebrows when you work, and it’s the most adorable thing.”
This man. His words. She appreciated every single one of them. She loved him more with each passing minute. He was in earnest, she could tell. “But it won’t be enough. Maybe now you think it is, but soon, you’ll grow weary of my traumas.”
“I could protest that I won’t. But you wouldn’t believe me, would you?” When she shook her head in response, he continued. “If it had been me who had returned from war a broken man, suffering fits of rage, disorientation, or uncontrolled fear, startling at any noise, unfit for society and barely functional, would you have given up on me?”
The question posed a different perspective. Made her face the fact that she was, perhaps, judging him unfairly. Holding him to different standards. “No. I would stand by you. Help you heal.”
“Then why do you think I wouldn’t be capable of doing the same for you?”
“Men and women are different in that regard. Women are supposed to be nurturers. Kind, gracious, and patient.”
“Do you think men are incapable of those qualities?”
