| Subject: Chapter 42/end (long, awfully schmaltzy) |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 14:49:39 04/10/01 Tue
In reply to:
Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 14:33:38 04/10/01 Tue
******************
Blood boils without flame.
Quiet.
From far below, the surf pounded on the rocks. The moon was out, huge and bright and illuminating the entire patio with silvery light.
The wind picked up, breezing across the sea, the mountain and finally, the patio of the Lucia. A cat lay his ears back, taking into account the wind while he planned his attack on a mouse foraging under the patio tables. He crouched, tensed, sprang and killed the mouse instantly.
Pleased with his prey, the cat stalked toward the hotel, the unfortunate mouse clamped firmly in his jaw. It was very late now and everyone was asleep. He wouldn't be able to show off his kill to them. But maybe he could put it somewhere they'd see it when they woke. That would be best.
The cat easily jumped up on the windowsill, then through the open window. He crossed the laundry room, the interior patio, then leapt up to another window.
He lay his dead mouse on the windowsill and looked with interest at the two people twined around each other. They were awake and talking, so he announced his presence with a polite meow.
"Oh, Michael -- he caught something --"
"I'll get it." The man came toward the cat, patted his head and scratched under his chin. "With such an excellent mouser, we'll never need traps," he said, and the cat purred, butting his head against the man's hand. "We appreciate your diligence."
The woman snorted, but tried to cover it up with a cough. The cat twisted around the man's hand, then picked up his dinner and hopped back outside to eat in peace.
"Was it ... mangled?"
"No," Michael replied. "But I'm glad he didn't take it to Milla. I'll go wash my hands. Do you want anything?"
"No, I'm fine."
Michael washed the mouse from his hands and slid back into bed with Nikita. His eyes automatically went to the place over their dresser where their marriage license hung. He knew most people didn't frame their marriage license, but Nikita had it mounted and framed and then hung it where they'd both see it the first thing in the morning. "Just in case you forget," she'd murmured to Michael, and he'd leaned down and kissed her neck, right where the faint healed seam from her surgery was. "I'll be sure to remember," he said politely.
Now, Nikita smiled and rolled over, nudging herself into him. "I forgot to tell you," Michael said, one hand on her hip. "I bought you a wedding present."
"You what?" She twisted around, and Michael settled his hand across her stomach, his thumb fluttering over her belly button.
"A present. I was going to give it to you the last week, but Milla seemed ..."
"I know." Nikita sighed and put her hand on top of his. "She doesn't respond well to change. The wedding was enough."
"That's what I thought."
"So ... what did you get me?" Nikita smiled at him and laced her fingers through his.
"I'll show you tomorrow."
"I can't have it now?"
Michael was silent for a moment, then, apparently having come to some kind of decision, he said, "It's a house."
"What?" Nikita stared at him, confused.
"A house. I bought you a house. It's nearby, but further up the mountain."
Nikita lay back, and Michael came up on an elbow, studying her face. "Are you angry?" he asked.
"No ... of course not. But ... a house? Why?"
"I thought it might be nice to have more room. And one day, you might get tired of managing the hotel."
"Well, maybe, but --"
"Besides, we could use the extra room."
"We could?"
"Yes," Michael said firmly. "We could. And the extra privacy."
"We need privacy?"
"Yes. We do."
"We didn't need it before."
"We weren't married before."
"Something tells me that you'll be glad when the Sandersons finally leave," Nikita said, smiling at him. "Sam will only be here a few more days, till Sara's ready to travel. And Andy's gone until next month, when he comes back to check up on me. Of course, that still leaves Ian and Elena."
"Mmmmm." He kissed her nose instead of answering.
Nikita held his face in her hands, then slowly brought him down for another kiss. "I wonder if David would like to buy the Lucia?"
Michael went rigid in her arms and he said stiffly, "He invited Milla away next weekend."
"Yes, I know. She told me. She's very worried about what she should wear."
"Milla was worried about clothes?"
"Mmmmm," Nikita murmured. She kissed his ear, then his neck. "Don't you like David?"
"I like him fine," Michael said crossly.
Nikita's hands moved down Michael's body slowly. "Michael? You know ... I didn't get you a wedding present ..."
"It's ... unnecessary," he said, with difficulty.
"Are you sure?" Her hands curved up to his ribs, her thumbs pressed lightly into his muscles. "You married me last week. You've made love to me till I couldn't breathe. And you got me a house. Surely I could do something in return."
Michael was finding it a little difficult to breathe himself. Then Nikita's hands began moving down, down, down, and his breath shuddered to a stop. "Hospital --" he croaked.
"I know. I was thinking the same thing. You did say whenever I wanted, you'd be willing ..."
Michael muttered something unintelligible, but he put his mouth to hers. She was almost purring. Just like the cat. Michael's last coherent thought was, I did this to her. Then she reached around him and in exquisite detail began to put everything she'd described to him in action.
Michael gave up sensible thoughts altogether.
Outside, a wispy cloud obscured the full moon. The wind came up again, blowing through the lemon trees and scattering errant leaves across the dark patio. Occasionally, there was a distant sound of an infrequent automobile passing on the mountain road below. Somewhere, a dog barked. One of the guests flipped on a light in his room; it spilled across the patio in a bright yellow square. There was a crying sound -- a cat? No, a baby -- but in a moment, the child stopped crying and the light blinked out again.
The cloud moved away from the moon and bathed the patio in cool light. In the morning, when the sun rose, the patio would be a warm golden yellow. But now, it looked as if it had been gilded with silver. The wind blew. The sea murmured below.
And everything was very quiet.
***************
The end
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