Her Love

"She would have loved this," Remy Therriault whispered to no. On the back porch of his family's Schoharie Valley hunting cabin, he watched the sunset and held an empty glass tumbler that once held some hard, amber liquor made a few miles from where he sat.

"I miss her," he admitted to himself as he absently-mindedly raised the glass to his lips, forgetting that it was empty. Once he remembered, he shook his head and stood. He wanted a refill but shook his head instead.

"Getting drunk won't help," he thought. He turned and walked inside, the screen door's loud thwack made him smile: she would have yelled at him.

Remy placed the glass into the porcelain sink and stood for a moment. He thought of her, remembered how she would have nagged him for not rinsing out the glass and for just leaving it in the sink. He shook his head and rinsed it. He placed it in the drainer and grabbed the hand towel from its hook. He chuckled knowing she would have done the same.

The summer's day had ended. In the past, Remy Therriault might have been on his way home from work or sitting in his den with a cold soft drink while the pretty, young wife of his sat on his lap. This would not happen today, or any other future day.

Heavy-hearted, he made his way into the sparsely furnished living area. A couch stood in front of the fireplace. A comfortable, overstuffed chair sat to the left, an end table with an electric lamp next to it. On that seat was a bookmarked book, plus an unopened bottle of Pepsi. Remy sighed and picked up the book: Reading was one of the view enjoyments he shared with her that he had left since her death.

She was his wife Penny. Born Penelope Cartwright 25 years ago, she was not enamored with Remy at first. "What makes you think I'd go with you for coffee?" were her words when college student Remy first approached her on the streets of Beverwyck. He had no response and walked away. Within a week, she sat next to him in a diner when she saw him through the window, and less than a year later, they were married.

Remy picked up the book and sat. He looked opened it and sighed. He closed it and placed it on the end table. "Why?" he called out, knowing no one would hear it, but hoping she would, where ever she was. He sighed again, closed his eyes, and tried to make himself comfortable in the chair. Seconds later, he was fast asleep.

"Hello," someone said through knocks on the front door. Remy Therriault awoke from a dreamless nap with a startle. He rushed to the door and looked out. There stood an older woman, short and curvaceous. She smiled at him when he began to open the door.

Something in her smile was familiar, that caused his soul to react. For a brief moment, Remy stood silent and looked at the woman.

"Remy?" she whispered.

That voice, that soft whisper, was something he heard in his past. He couldn't think where, though.

"Yes."

She exhaled deeply, a relaxing sign. "Good, I've been on the road since 3 this morning." She took a step back and looked upward. "Where are my manners?" She extended a hand and introduced herself.

"My name is Theresa Harris. I'm, oh, I was Penny's aunt."

He took her hand in his and lightly squeezed. "Nice to meet you," he answered as they unclasped their hands. He took a step back, tried not to show her that something just happened.

"Please, come inside." He moved aside and allowed her to enter. For a moment, he allowed himself to be like the Remy of old: He watched her walk past and leered at her bottom. He liked what he saw; the size and shape were like what first drew his attention to Penny. It was round and relatively large. There was some meat on it.

She stopped and quickly turned. She didn't miss that he had checked out her ass. "I hope you like what you saw," she quipped.

He felt himself turn red with embarrassment and looked away. He smiled sheepishly but it let it leave before he faced her. He nodded. "Yes I did," he softly answered.

There were no signs of anger or dismay in her face. She calmly turned to him and softly touched his face. "I know this may sound strange, Remy, but I was told you're hurting and need my help."

He was confused. No one knew of his pain, not his family, or Penny's. He didn't understand how she could have known. He went to ask her how she knew, but the question stopped on his lips.

"You might think this is strange," she began, interrupting him. "But I had a feeling you were hurting still over Penny's death."

With a raised eyebrow he asked, "How come I didn't see you at her memorial service?"

She looked away. "I wasn't invited." She looked at him, a frown on her face. She pointed her hand to the couch, "May I sit?"

He nodded.

"I'm not a blood relative," she began. "I was married to her mother's brother for ten years, but divorced him once I learned of his true past." She looked at Remy and shrugged her shoulders. "I wasn't told when I met him that he had been arrested for attempted murder."

Remy stood silent, shocked at that piece of information. "I had no idea either," he whispered out in shock.

"It seems that only a few people knew, and they weren't going tell me." She gave him a look of anger. "I couldn't understand why they weren't going to tell me."

He leaned into her and took her hand. "Did you love him?" Remy asked.

"With all my heart I loved him. I gave him my soul and my body, let him do things to me that I didn't know I would have enjoyed." She blushed. "I think I shared a little too much."

Remy chuckled softly. "Penny was the same way. She would get on a roll and tell me and others more than she wanted to, or should have."

Theresa smiled. "That was her. She loved to share her dreams with me when she was in college, before you two met."

He smiled greatly inwardly. Penny had told him she had a relative with whom she shared most of her intimate dreams, fantasies, and actions. He knew Theresa was that person. He had so many questions to ask her, but thought it was not appropriate to ask them so sudden.

She looked at him and a devilish smile caused her face to appear evil for a moment. "I bet you have a lot of questions you want answered, some from when you two first met."

"How did you know?" He was shocked. It was as if she read his mind.

"If I were a man, I'd want to know if the stories my lover told me were true."

"Oh my God," he interrupted. "Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?"

She stood up straighter. "What do you have? Do you have that 'special drink' my niece told me about?"

He cocked his head. "She told you about that?"

She nodded quickly. "Penny told me it was one of those dangerous drinks: if you weren't told it was alcoholic, you would get wasted quickly."

Remy smiled, "That's what tends to happen when people think it is just cider." He turned and walked towards the kitchen.

"I'd take a small glass of it," she requested. "I don't want to seem overly eager."

He laughed. "I'm sure you'd not drink too much."

"I'm not too sure about that. I've been known to over indulge, especially with alcohol." She shook her head. "I think I've shared too much."

"No, you've not," Remy said from the kitchen. He grabbed two tumblers from a cabinet and made his way to the pantry. He looked at the glass jug and shook his head, doesn't remember drinking half of the liquor. He poured two drinks and headed back into the living area.

Receiving her drink, she thanked him. Remy looked at her and noticed, for the first time, her blouse was unbuttoned to her bra. He looked away quickly, not wanting to offend her. He did, however, like the show.

"It's okay to look," Theresa purred. She took a sip of the hard cider, looked at the glass and smiled. "Penny was right. This could be dangerous." She placed down the glass and looked at him.

"Remy," she began. "Please sit down. What I'm going to tell you might sound strange."

He crooked his head and opened his mouth, about to question her, but stopped when he smelled a familiar aroma. Penny's perfume, a special formula made for her in college by her best friend, always made Remy amorous, even if he smelled it for a brief moment. He thought he detected it on Theresa. He closed his mouth and let her speak, letting what he thought he smelled go.

She bit her bottom lip before speaking, "I dreamed of Penny last week."

Remy looked at her with a slight smile. For the last few months, he's been dreaming of her as well, always of her coming to him as he sat in his chair and tried to read. He was glad someone else was thinking of her.

"I don't find that strange, not at all."

Theresa sighed heavily. "That's a relief. I told a few of the relatives what happened and they thought I was crazy."

He chuckled. "I could imagine. I told my sisters and they told me it was just part of the grieving purpose."

She reached up and touched his hand. "It is one part of it. I know if I lost someone so close to me I would do the same."

Without missing a beat he added, "She talks to me, tells me to move on."

"I don't think that's unusual. Perhaps that's your subconscious telling you that it's okay to find comfort in someone else's arms."

Remy's eyes opened wide. "That's exactly what she's told me the last few times I dreamed of her. She wants me to get laid."

Both of them laughed. "Perhaps that's what she wants." The older woman sheepishly smirked and looked away.

"Is that what she told you?" Remy moved to his chair and looked at her through a daze.

She nodded. Unconsciously, she popped another blouse button and smiled. "She told me to see you and give you myself." She finished the hard cider and slowly stood. She looked at Remy and finished removing the rest of the buttons.

"Penny told me that you like women with large breasts."

A wave of guilt rushed over Remy as he watched Theresa dropped her blouse on the floor. He was lusting, something that the dream Penny had told him to do, move on with life, but she was his first true love and felt an obligation to her.

Theresa placed her hands on the chair's arms and leaned forward, placing her ample cleavage in his face. "Penny suggested I do this."

The aroma of Penny's perfume was deep within Theresa's breasts. He closed his eyes and tried to resist the temptation in front of him. Remy leaned as far back as he could.

He felt someone's lips close to his ear. "Please, take her," someone whispered. The voice was familiar. He opened his eyes and turned his head in the direction of the whisper. No one was there. He smiled and looked at the woman before him. The guilt had quickly left as fast as it came over him.

"Do you like them?" Theresa cooed.

Remy placed his hands on her wide hips and leaned into her. He gently kissed her décolletage. She moaned: a sign that she liked his action.

"She told me your lips would be soft and warm. She wasn't wrong."

"Get her in bed," the whispered told him.

"Come with me," he commanded. He stood and took her by the hand and led her to the small bedroom. Before they reached the bed, Remy had her stand.

"Remove your clothes," he demanded. Without a word, she did. He looked at her, looked at the ample breasts falls as they were removed from her bra.

She held them up for a moment. "Penny liked them, too."

"Finished removing the clothes," Remy directed.

"Yes sir," Theresa demurred. She quickly removed her pants and panties, tossing them aside. Slowly, she dropped to her knees. "I am for you to command."

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Remy Therriault awoke with a jolt. He was in his bed. Night had come. He reached to his right: he was alone. Remy threw back the covers and sat. He wiped the sleep from his eyes.

"Move on with your life," the soft voice of his Penny said in his ears. He smiled and shook his head.

"Yes dear."