Miracle (16 page)

“You don’t have to worry about hurting me, or make promises about the future, or say a lot of hokey sweet things. You just have to be yourself.”

“Most women would be dismayed at that possibility.”

“I never look at things the way other people do. I guess you’re in luck.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, as if making a decision. “Very much in luck.”

He kissed her again, this time sweetly and with obvious restraint. She sagged against him. Bending her backward, he laid her on the cool, matted grass and undressed her, his hands hurried but careful. She curled and uncurled her fingers, feeling shy, feeling amazed and wanting him so badly that he had already finished removing her clothes before caution prompted her to speak. “I haven’t got any, uhmmm … I’m not on the pill, or anything.”

“I was about to ask you.” He pulled his wallet from a back pocket in the loose orderly’s uniform. Opening it, he retrieved a small, flat package then tossed the wallet aside.

She felt herself blushing. “Oh. Okay. You’re ready for emergencies.”

Reaching for her, he pulled her upright for a moment and hugged her. “You assume that I go around indulging in ‘emergencies’? No. But I’m not a boy. I can’t play innocent.”

She nuzzled her face against his shoulder and marveled at the thought that she was naked in his embrace. “Okay. I can. For both of us.”

He guided her onto her back and sat beside her in the silver-hued darkness, stroking her from breasts to thighs,
running the backs of his fingers across her taut, small nipples, drawing his thumbs down the center of her stomach, spreading his hands over her thighs and lightly brushing the inner recesses with his fingertips.

“So you haven’t done this before,” he whispered. He didn’t sound surprised or dismayed.

She covered her face and groaned softly. “You’re so French.”

He bent and began kissing her breasts. “In what way?”

“You don’t … make a big deal out of these things.”

“That’s as it should be, don’t you think? Do you want me to turn away because you’re inexperienced? Or do you want me to treat you like the beautiful woman you are?”

He put one arm under the curve of her back and lifted her to his skillful, slowly sucking mouth. She had never fantasized anything so wonderful. The aura of grief from the little boy’s death gentled what was happening; even though inexperienced she realized that this was not a night for grand displays. His bluntness freed her to be a little frightened without embarrassment, even as her body throbbed.

There seemed to be a direct line of sensation from her breasts to the lovely ache between her thighs. When he slipped a hand between them and eased his fingers inside her, she forgot everything but the feelings that radiated throughout her womb.

In her excitement she waved her hands about, patting his shoulders, punching her fists into the soft, rustling grass, then finally reaching into the air, every muscle in her body arching toward the sky. He lifted her upright as if she were a doll frozen in an awkward position, her legs splayed, her arms sticking straight over his shoulders, while soft moans cascaded from her throat.

His hand massaged her intimately, covered in the warm moisture she felt spreading inside her thighs. “You’re wonderful,” he told her. “And so incredibly sensual that you make love in the way that suits you most, without being self-conscious about it.”

She grasped his face between her hands and kissed him desperately, dazed and so much in love with him she could only express it by mewling deep in her throat, like an animal that was starving. It broke his reserve. He undressed
hurriedly and lay down beside her, pulling her greedy hands over his body.

“I never thought I’d want to be happy tonight,” he admitted. “And certainly not like this.”

They both grew still. She studied his face. The moonlight and its shadows fell harshly on his tired, pensive expression. Amy stroked his jaw. “I won’t tell your secret,” she murmured. “I think you deserve to be happy, even tonight.”

Shivering, he took her hands and kissed them. He placed the condom in them. “Never let anyone tell you that it’s safe to be careless. Always insist on responsibility. Never let a man take advantage of you.”

She bit her lip and looked away. “Stop being so French! I really don’t want to talk about other men. I’m not that sophisticated yet.”

The stillness that settled in him made her catch her breath. When he spoke, his voice was gruff. “I am sometimes too much a lecturer. And I forget how my logic sounds.” He paused, and when he spoke again he sounded dismayed. “Forgive me.”

“Just … go back to being a horny guy,” she said firmly.

He made a strangled sound. “Oh, Miracle. Come here. Touch me. You have an incredible way of cutting straight to the point.”

She fumbled with the condom until finally, with graceful gallantry, he helped her with it. He moved over her, parting her legs with his knees.

She put her arms around his neck as he settled his weight on her. Amy kissed him, opening her mouth to the hot thrusts of his tongue. His lips feathering hers, he murmured soft words of reassurance as he entered her slowly.

“Oh, Doc, you’re not hurting me,” she answered. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I’ll try not to. Now hold me. Hold me tightly, and we’ll see what kind of happiness we can make in only a week’s time.”

Amy latched her arms around him and buried a distraught expression against his neck, but the feel of his body and then, a moment later, the sweet desperation in his kisses coaxed her sorrow away. His darkness was frightening but irresistible, and she let it surround her.

T
here was so little time left. Only a few days.

Sebastien listened to the low, seductive music of a Debussy prelude on the bedroom tape deck. The light of a bedside lamp made a pleasant sensation of heat on the side of his face. Across his room the time changed on the Tiffany clock atop his dresser: 4:02. In an hour or so the darkness in the corners of the room would take on the gray tint of approaching dawn.

But for now the night was still and eternal, and Amy lay under his arm, her back against his chest. She held his hand and stroked it with slow, lingering fingertips, unhurried, satiated, as he was, yet unable to stop caressing him. He burrowed his face into the hair at the base of her neck. Every sensation was vivid; the scent of her hair, the taste of her skin, the velvety side of her breast rubbing against his bicep.

The sheet felt like a caress on his lower body, and he remembered the playful, fumbling attention she’d given him with her mouth.
I didn’t mean to bite you, Doc. I was thinking about oysters
.

Oysters. It was the first time he’d ever laughed at the expense of his testicles. He cupped his hips and legs closer to hers, and she sighed.

“Doc?” Her voice was husky, a private whisper liquid with emotion. “Do you ever feel like you’re going to cry because it feels so good?”

He struggled for a moment, then gave up. What need was there to pretend with Amy? In her adoration, there was acceptance. She had no cynicism, no preconceived ideas about how a man and woman should withhold powerful information in bed. “Yes,” he admitted. “Sometimes it’s that wonderful.”

“When you do it with me, I mean?”

“Yes. Of course that’s what I mean.”

“Doc?” She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers. The tension in her grip radiated through his body; she was quivering. “Do you think, after you leave, that you’ll find somebody else, someone you’ll want to do this with? I mean, do you think you’ll find someone else right away?”

He held her tighter and shut his eyes. “No.”

She exhaled wearily. “Good. I didn’t want to think you would.”

“Let’s not talk about the future.”

“Just one more thing. How … how are we going to say good-bye? I mean, where?”

“Where would you like to say good-bye?”

She turned over and looked at him. Her eyes were so tragic that a lump rose in his throat. No matter how right he was to leave her behind, he would always regret it. He had found himself reacting to life in a more open, more emotional way since he’d met her, and he knew he’d lose that ability when he left her. He reminded himself that he didn’t enjoy being dependent on another person, and how foolish it was to be this vulnerable.

But when she gave him a lopsided smile he couldn’t help but kiss her. “Funny Miracle. Where would you like to say good-bye?”

“In bed. After we make love one last time.” She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “But I agree, let’s not talk about it anymore.” She slid down and nestled her head against the center of his chest. “That music makes me think of children playing in a field full of flowers. What’s it make you think of?”

“Autumn, with a cold, fast wind pushing the dead leaves through a forest.”

“Oh.”

He kissed her hair. “Too depressing, hmmm?”

“No. It suits you. You always look at the dark side of life.”

“And
you
have a great deal of optimism for one who has had so little encouragement. Don’t ever let it go. Don’t ever let anyone keep you from following your dreams. You can be anything you want to be. You can have anything you want, if you never stop working for it.”

“You don’t know how much I want.” She slid her arms around his neck, hugged him, and said no more.

“Learn the difference between what you want and what is best for you,” he whispered against her ear. “That’s the hardest lesson of all.”

“Have you learned it?” She tilted her head back and searched his face desperately.

“Yes.” He could see by the sorrowful expression on her face that she wouldn’t ask him to explain; that she knew she wouldn’t like the explanation. “Stop, Amy.” He repeated the words, feathering them over her mouth. “No more thinking about the future.”

“Make me stop,” she ordered softly, her fingers sliding upward into his hair, then holding him while she lifted her mouth to his.

“You are learning,” he said, when she let him catch his breath. “You’re learning very, very fast.”

Jeff Atwater stood on the chief of cardiac surgery’s desk and made a toast to Sebastien, who had always impressed him as being his exact opposite. “Farewell, Frenchy. May the natives be friendly, the work interesting, and the karma good.”

Sebastien bowed slightly. “Working with you has been an enlightening experience. Thanks to you, soon after I arrived here I learned all the slang for street drugs and many useful obscenities.”

Jeff bowed back. “You’re goddamned welcome.” He got down from the desk and sipped from his cup of herbal tea as one of the cardiac residents made a farewell toast, a
rather timid one. Looking around, Jeff wasn’t surprised to find only a few people in the office. While the staff considered Sebastien brilliant, they didn’t like him. He was too young, too confident, too French. French surgeons tended to rely on logic more than statistics. That drove American surgeons nuts.

Jeff liked Sebastien because he was brutally honest, the honesty part of a strict personal code. The man had integrity. His arrogance held no hint of petty prejudice. Women were both intimidated and fascinated by him, but he never treated them like easy prey. He never promised more than he gave. Jeff respected that, although for himself he believed women deserved every callous thing a man could to to them.

As people began dispersing Sebastien called him aside, looking more serious than usual, but distracted. Jeff wondered how much the child’s bloody death had upset him. Everyone on the staff of the transplant unit was talking about the pitiful event and Sebastien’s violent reaction. Interesting that reaction, Jeff thought. Surgeons were such perfectionists.

“I need to ask you for a rather involved favor,” Sebastien told him. “I hate to impose on you, but you’re the only person I can turn to.”

As he explained, Jeff listened in solemn silence. Afterward he nodded sagely. “Fascinating. How can I pass up the opportunity? See you at your place for dinner tomorrow night.”

He watched Sebastien leave the room, moving with a long, confident stride as usual, nodding majestically to the people who bid him good-bye, his manner indicating he found the whole sentimental business awkward and unnecessary. This was a man who would probably spend most of his life alone, because he had all the warmth of a cold steel wall. Jeff had always been in awe of his self-sufficiency.