"Forever in My Heart" Pt. 04

Colton sat Madeline up, and settled in beside her, "Jesus, you got gang banged and left his Alma mater, and he sent you on a trip to Europe? That must have been tough. Tell me Madeline, did your dad ever punish you? Did he actually do anything?'

"No," she started to cry, "and I wish he had."

"Why sweetheart," he asked.

"She stopped crying and used the back of her hands to wipe her tears, "I don't know. I just wish he had... you called me sweetheart."

He nodded, "Yeah, I guess I did, but for Christ's sake Madeline, why would he want to punish you? You've done a damn good job of that yourself."

She looked at Colton, sighed and said again, "You did call me sweetheart."

After that she got back on track, "I know it wasn't all Fraternity boys either. I've met a lot of really nice ones, and I know my dad loves me, and he was in a Fraternity. I'm just so ashamed. I let him down."

Colton did his best to be warm, "You made some mistakes. Some whoppers in fact, but I bet your dad's not ashamed of you. Maybe a little disappointed, well maybe a lot disappointed for the recent stuff especially, but he loves you. God Madeline, I never even had a dad. You're really lucky."

"You think so?

"Yes I do."

Through a damp face she smiled and repeated, "You called me sweetheart."

He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, "I know. You know what else?"

She nodded but didn't say anything.

He said, "I meant it too," and he did.

They embraced. He picked her up and carried up the steps to her bedroom. It was a long and wonderful night.

~~~V~~~

And then one day it happened...

Chelsea had recovered enough, just barely, just enough to move around the hospice. They'd moved her from the top floor to one of the lower levels. Chelsea had asked what that was all about. He told her it was because she was getting close to leaving. She accepted his explanation, but she knew the finality of the meaning of the word 'hospice'. Then they moved her again, and she was on the bottom floor. Chelsea wasn't totally naïve. She knew hospices were places for the terminally ill, and as patients got closer to the end they were gradually moved from the upper floors to the ground floor. Colton lied and said it was because she was going home soon.

She knew 'going home' could mean a lot of things.

Colton had been telling her a second lie. From day one Chelsea had been asking after her mother. That led to a third lie. He'd said her mother had been in a serious auto accident shortly before she'd reawakened, and that she was bedridden and in traction in a hospital nearby. When Chelsea asked if she could talk to her on the phone; he lied again saying her mom's jaw was wired shut, but he promised once they were both fully ambulatory they'd be together again. He knew she knew he was lying.

Then one evening it all came together. It wasn't new ground, but this time... this time it was different.

Through bleary eyes Chelsea said, "Colt I know I was out of it, but I can remember some things."

He replied, "Oh really? Like what?"

"You read to me," she whispered.

"Yes, I did."

She evinced a small smile, "You found my stories, and that's what you read."

Colt nodded.

She added, "You said some things too."

"Yeah, I guess so," was his answer.

She tried to lean up, but couldn't, "You made some promises."

"I might have. I don't remember all that I said. I suppose I did. I was usually pretty tired. Why?"

She frightened him with a full smile and a comment, "You swore to God you'd marry me if I woke up."

He fidgeted in his seat, "I don't know. I was pretty worn out most of the time. I might have said something like that."

She struggled to lean up, but failed, "Colt."

"Yes."

"I came around."

"Chelsea," he lamely protested, "most of the time I was half delirious myself. I don't remember what I said."

And thus began a litany of small but powerful interruptions.

Through droopy eyes, but with a confident if faint grin she said, "You made a promise."

"Chelsea..."

Interrupting, "I think Colt that's what gave me the strength to fight through. Your love, your prayers, and especially, no, most of all, your promises."

"Sweetheart..."

Like fluttering butterflies long lashes batted over blue eyes, "I love it when you call me that," she blinked away sparkling big tear drops, "We could do it right here."

"Honey... I... "

Not to be deterred, "Pastor McShane could do it."

Sensing a losing battle Colt still fought on, "Come on Chelsea, we're cousins. Pastor McShane wouldn't..."

"He did our confirmation classes. He's always said we were meant for each other, born to be together he said once, like we were two peas in a pod."

Colton remembered the pastor had said that, "Honey he didn't mean..."

With more tear drops dribbling down pale cheeks Chelsea lowered the boom, "I know what this place really is. I know why I'm here. All my life since I was four years old I've loved you. You're my hero. You've always been my hero, my only hero, my north star, my once and future love," she struggled to her elbows, "Time's almost up for me. It's the bottom of the ninth with two men out, it's the fourth quarter, only a few seconds to go. You've got..."

This time he interrupted her. He leaned down. Tousling her soft blond hair he wrapped his left arm around and above her frail little head. Kissing her softly on each cheek he whispered, "I could call him right now."

She just barely managed to reach his lips for a second kiss. With a sigh, "We'll honeymoon at Niagara Falls."

Knowing it was another lie, he answered, "We'll ride out on the 'Maid of Mist' like when we were kids."

Kissing him again she murmured, "It was slippery on the deck..."

"I'll hold you tightly. I'll see that you won't fall. I'd never let you fall."

Bruised from intravenous needles she floundered with her left hand trying to open her blouse and expose a small left breast, "Touch me Colt."

He eased her hand away, he opened her blouse, and gently caressed one, then her other tiny breast, "I do love you Chelsea."

Just then a nurse came in. Colton leaned back and waved her away. Back to Chelsea he whispered, "I suppose this was always going to happen."

She looked confused, then frightened, "What?"

Not meaning her imminent passing he answered, "Us."

She feebly wiggled and squiggled on the big bed, "I'm a virgin Colt."

Understanding, he breathed and said, "Can't it wait?"

Almost inaudibly she half sighed half whimpered, "No, I don't think it can."

He knew... Suddenly he knew... Ever so slowly, ever so gently, oh so tenderly Colton Allan Stewart climbed in beside the one truly clean and perfect thing in his life, his cousin Chelsea Angela Bearden, "Darling, it's going to hurt."

She was softly weeping, "Oh darling. Call me darling. I love it when you call me darling. When you say that I don't care how much it might hurt."

He was half incredulous at the ease with which his penis hardened. He always cared about her, he'd always loved her, and yes, he'd always found her desirable, but there it was.

He drew the covers away, slid her panties down her legs and off her feet. How many times had he cleaned this insignificant little torso, her reedy arms, her well-shaped but spindly legs? How many times had he put her young body to bed, sometimes feverish with some unnamed or ill-defined ailment? How many times?

Now he feared; perhaps for the last time he pulled her thin frame forward. They lay side by side, "I'll try to be gentle."

She weakly whispered, "I love you Colton Stewart."

"And I love you. I've always loved you. It's like we've always been married, I mean a couple all our lives."

He pressed against her. She was dry. My God she was dry. He spit in his hand and tried to moisten her. She felt hot, hot and dry. He pressed forward. How could he do this! How would he manage? She was so small! He pushed forward. She sobbed.

He backed away.

Pulling him back with all her might, she whimpered, "No, no..."

He pressed forward again. His eyes on hers; hers tightly shut. Tears rolled down unspoiled perfect cheeks, down and around what were once ruby red lips, now two pasty pale pink creases. Oh but she was still so beautiful.

In further he pushed.

Through the pain she whispered, "I love you."

In deeper.

She was crying, in misery, shamelessly suffering, she hoarsely yelled. No not a yell, more a throaty half cry, "Oh I love you. I love you so."

And then it was over. He'd spilled his seed into her. She'd flinched, trembled and shook. She pushed against him with all her might, "Oh is that what it's like...to be...to be loved, to be truly loved?"

He sensed she might have experienced some small sexual response, but doubted it. He murmured back, "Yes."

She cried for a moment, then stopped. Through her tears, through her shiny tear-stained face she slurred, "We've made a child, our first baby. It'll be a boy. I know it. We'll name him Colton junior. He'll grow up to be like his dad."

Colton held her. For a few seconds, just a few, he thought back on her dad... and his.

Her dad had been killed when she was four. She'd always only vaguely remembered him. From what Colt heard he'd been a salesman of sorts, a salesman who'd lost his money, turned to selling drugs, and was killed somewhere in Central America trying to make that one big buy. Her remembrances had been of a strong wonderfully handsome loving man, but his remembrances of her father had been only of her nightmares and her faint recollections of that awful night, the terrible accident, and the dreadful years.

Colt wondered about his dad. He had one; just didn't know who. His brother remembered 'his' dad. Colton thought on his brother's recollections; the never used baseball mitt, the never opened puzzle. If, just if, Chelsea lived, and they did have a son his son would have a dad, a real dad, a good dad. He, Colton, would play catch with him every day. They'd play with puzzles. They'd go fishing. They'd do all the things a boy and his dad were supposed to do. He'd see to it, and Chelsea would be the mom. She'd be a good mom, a great mom. She'd bake brownies and chocolate chip cookies for after-school. They'd be a family, a real family, a happy family.

He smiled and thought, 'Yeah, their kids would get the full package. They'd have a home with a mom and a dad. He'd get a job, be role model. Chelsea would be the perfect mom. She'd join the PTA be a class mom. They'd have it all.

It had been light outside when they made love, but now it was dark. He must have fallen asleep. He looked down to tell her what he'd just been thinking. Her eyes were only half opened. "Chelsea," he said, he said it again, "Chelsea."

Her eyes weren't moving. Half opened, half shut, they didn't move. 'Oh, oh', he thought.

He gently shook her, "Chelsea...Chels...Chelsea!" No response... No response!

"Chelsea," he cried out! He shook her again, hard this time. Her frail limp body was like some soft silken pillow, a rag doll, an old Teddy with all the stuffing gone, all soft and smooth, but, but... He burst into tears. He cried he yelled, "She's gone. Oh my God she's gone!"

He wrapped her lifeless form in his arms. Still warm, still soft, she melted into him. "No," he whispered, "not now. Not now. You can't leave. You can't leave me! Not now! I forbid it!"

But she was truly gone. Where once, just a minute before there'd been life, and joy, and humor, but now... He held her. He clung to her. He had no idea what to do; he just grasped at her listless lifeless frame, praying, wishing, willing that she not be dead, that she hadn't gone, that she hadn't left him.

But she had.

He didn't remember exactly, but sometime. A short time? A long time? He didn't know, but one of the girls came in. She was a high school student doing her public service. He heard her voice, "Mr. Stewart. Mr. Stewart?" She looked at Chelsea's lifeless form and gasped, "Oh no." She fled the room.

Still clinging desperately to the slowly cooling now vapid flesh that had once been his truest love he cried, "No. Please. God. She can't be gone. I her! Let her come back, please."

Someone else was in the room, a woman, "Colt, Colton, you've got to let go. You've got to get up." It was Madeline. Behind her was one of the physicians.

Yes, she was gone, and he was alone, all alone.

~~~V~~~

The rest was a blur, a dark grey cloud, a time of dark shadows, shapeless faces, indistinct voices, some sympathetic, some trying to express compassion, some sharing past stories and kindnesses, none calming, none fully understanding.

The days and nights skittered by. There was a viewing, a funeral.

The church had been packed. It never occurred to him how many lives that frail little woman had touched. Young men cried; they vied over who would carry her casket. Pastor McShane broke down outside at the grave site. Colt's mother was incoherent. Off in the distance by the side of the road a lone woman, black hair in a dark suit watched and wept. Colt cried unashamedly.

Back at their old home Colton went through Chelsea's things. He thought of her death, but of her life too. He recalled the funeral, then the cemetery, but he recalled other times, happy times, memories, those were things no one could take away.

He packed away her things. There wasn't much. He held her old ragged Teddy, he cried into each item as he packed them up for the last time. He breathed in her smells, oh her sweet fragrant smells.

At last he was done. He'd ironed and packed everything for Goodwill. One last walk through. His mom was staying but not him. He just couldn't. He passed through her bedroom, the living room, into the kitchen. He saw the damaged molding; no, he'd never gotten to it, never would now. He stepped out on the porch.

It was over, finally over. No it would never be over. It could never be over. Yet he was all alone, truly alone for the first time, and then his cell phone rang. He flipped it open - Christ, it was Madeline. He said, "What do you want?"

"I'm in the restaurant at the Keystone Inn. I need you."

He stared at the receiver. He thought, 'Fuck! Would that whore ever leave him alone? No he didn't mean that; hadn't she shared his grief? He replied, "Hold on I'll be about twenty minutes..." Chelsea's Teddy under his arm he started for his truck.

When he got there she was sitting in a booth by herself. She looked scared. He went in. As he went she saw him. He saw her fear flake away like the cold frost turned to dew in the morning sunlight, "All right what's wrong?"

Timorously she pointed toward the elevator, "I'm supposed to go upstairs, room 223. They're waiting for me. I'm supposed to go up there and close the technology deal."

He sat down, "And you don't want to."

"No," she answered, "but I have to."

He stared at her, "What do you want me to do?"

Putting the key to the named room on the table she got up, "I'm going up there now," she stepped back, pushed her seat in, and started for the elevator.

Colton watched her go. He watched the elevator light as it carried her to the second floor. He looked at the key. He wondered. He waited another twenty minutes and got up to go, but he didn't go back outside to his truck. No he walked to the elevator. He got in, tapped the second floor button and went up. He walked down the second floor hall till he got to 223. Using the key he unlocked the door and walked in.

There she was on the floor. Her dress, a black one with broad straps had been pulled down to her waist. She looked frightened. There were half filled glasses and opened whiskey bottles all about. He saw three men standing over her; there was an older man he immediately realized was Kesselring and two other younger men. Kesselring was reaching in his pants. He had his zipper down.

Colton wasted no time. He walked across the room to Madeline, "Get up," he said.

She stared to rise, but the older man stepped forward, "No..."

Colton pushed him back so that he tripped over a nearby ottoman. He helped Madeline to her feet, pulled her dress straps up, and turned to the three men, shaking his finger at them he said, "Her firm gets the contract. Understand,"

The three men mutely nodded.

Colton took Madeline by the shoulders, "Come on. Time to get you home," and they left.

~~~V~~~

The whirl wind... and a look ahead.

Chelsea met her dad, and yes he was terribly disappointed, but a father's love... well. He explained to her there was an office with a desk and a stack of important cases waiting for her back in Philadelphia. She didn't argue.

And Colton? He had nothing to do and nowhere to go so he did the least logical thing. He loaded Heidi and his clothes in his truck, and he drove to Philadelphia. First he found a cheap motel where they allowed pets. Then he got the address of Westerbrook, Cameron, Shelley, and Owens. He took a thorough shower, put on his only suit, penny loafers white socks and all and he drove over. When he got there he asked for Ms. Madeline Westerbrook. At first the very polite receptionist asked who he was and if he would to take a seat while she located the requested person.

But she didn't have to. As he looked obliquely off toward what had to be a conference room he saw her. She was standing beside a tall very dignified older man. Colton immediately knew who he was.

Just as Colton saw the man Madeline looked up. She saw him... and she smiled.

The end.

A brief epilogue...

Did they marry? Silly question.

Was she forever faithful? Was he? Well, that remains to be seen doesn't it?