AN ETERNITY SEEMED TO PASS in a moment.
She felt his warm hands cup her face.
When she opened her eyes again, he was kneeling before her on the stone-flagged floor of the entrance hall.
“Fiona, dear God, I’m so sorry,” he said, his face stricken.
“Alec,” she whispered.
Alec Hudson rose, wincing as he did so, and drew Fiona to her feet. He wrapped her in his arms and she tucked her head into his broad, flat chest, as she had done before, so long ago.
And, very quietly, she began to cry.
They stood that way for a long time. She had the strange sense that they were fusing. Alec’s chest rose and fell irregularly, and she realized he was crying, too.
After a while, Fiona pulled away and looked up at Alec. He had aged more than she might have expected. Then again, she thought, perhaps she had, too. His face was gaunt and deeply lined. But his blue eyes still shone like searchlights. His body felt hard, just as she remembered it.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked, suddenly at a loss.
“No, Fiona. I would like to kiss you.”
Fiona smiled. He leaned down and their lips met. His kisses were as tender and sweet as she remembered, and she lost herself in them. Then, as before, she became insistent, pulling him closer, holding him tight.
Back in the direction of the kitchen, a door slammed and a woman’s voice cursed, “Bloody weather!” Moments later, she trooped into the dining room and froze there, transfixed by the scene in the hall.
“Mother?” she said, her mouth agape.
Fiona turned to her daughter.
The young woman, who was very pregnant, stared at them both for a moment, utterly at a loss for words, then plodded toward the hall.
The man smiled.
“Hello, Meaghan.”
In a perfect imitation of her mother, Meaghan’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widened in disbelief, her free hand fumbled for the chair, and she dropped heavily into it.
A moment later she lowered her hand and said simply, “You two were in love.”
“Correction,” Fiona said, “are in love.”
“Don’t let her fool you with that embrace, Alec; that’s how she greets all our guests now,” Meaghan cracked, her eyes dancing. “It’s done wonders for the business.”
“Meaghan!” Fiona exclaimed.
“I don’t doubt it in the least,” Alec said, for which he earned a sharp poke in the ribs from Fiona.
And then all three of them were laughing.
“But Alec,” Meaghan said, “you disappeared.”
Alec’s shoulders slumped and he looked away, as if across a great distance. His voice, when he responded, was barely a whisper. “It was the right thing to do, the only thing to do ... it was so hard. I wanted to come back—not just that first day, but every day since ...”
Fiona turned to Meaghan. “Would you excuse us for a while, darling? We have a bit of catching up to do.”
Meaghan nodded and hoisted herself from the chair. She gave Alec an awkward hug, her swollen belly coming between them.
Alec wiped a tear from his cheek. “Congratulations, little mother,” he said.
“Congratulations, my foot! As soon as Owen and I figure out what made this happen, we’re never doing it again!”
Meaghan lumbered off in the direction of the kitchen and Fiona led Alec through the low oak door to her rooms. She did not stop in her sitting room, but continued though to her bedroom. There, she removed her clothes and then helped Alec out of his. Then she pulled him into her bed and held him close.
“I never stopped loving you, Alec Hudson. I never stopped believing we’d be together again. It had to be; it was meant to be.”
“Tell me I did the right thing, Fi.”
“It shattered me, Alec; I won’t pretend otherwise. I didn’t think I’d ever recover. It was worse than a death, because there was always a hope you’d return. Because I couldn’t give up that hope.”
“I’m so sorry, Fi,” Alec said, burying his face in her neck. “So very sorry. It was so hard. It’s been so long.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve no need to be sorry. Do you know why?”
She could feel the dampness from his cheeks on her breast as he shook his head.
“Because you did the right thing.”
He pulled her closer.
“And in the end, that only made me love you more,” she whispered.
They stayed that way, skin on skin, clinging to each other, for a very long time.
It was nearly dark when Alec awoke. Fiona was crossing the room toward him. She had changed and was wearing a form-fitting wool jersey dress in an earthy olive. She climbed up onto the bed facing him.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“A few hours.”
“Damned jet lag.”
“I’m sure that’s what it was, and not that you’re an old relic,” she teased.
He lurched upright and grabbed her. “Here’s what I want to know,” he said, pulling her close and running his tongue down her breastbone. “How’d you manage to stay so gorgeous?”
“Clean living and fresh air,” Fiona said, pulling away and striking a pinup-girl pose.
“And here’s what I want to know,” she countered. “What brought you back now?”
Alec smiled. “Could you hand me my trousers, please?”
She looked at him for a moment, head cocked, then hopped off the bed, and brought them to him.
He fished his wallet from a back pocket, opened it, removed a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Fiona.
She unfolded it and recognized it immediately. It was a small notice from the St. Mary’s parish newsletter:
Meaghan Dorothy Edwards and Owen Thomas Lewis, both of Dolgellau, were married on 12 June 2004 at St. Mary’s Church. The groom is the son of Anna Llewellyn Lewis and the late Raymond Lewis. The bride is the daughter of Fiona Potter Edwards and the late David Edwards. The couple will reside at Tan y Gadair Farm.
“How?” Fiona asked.
“I subscribe.”
“But that was more than a year ago!”
“I know. And David died two months earlier. I read his obituary in the newsletter, too. But when I saw the notice, I thought it would be unseemly to contact you until some time had passed.”
Fiona leaned against one of the four-poster’s corner posts, crossed her legs, and looked squarely at Alec. “Your problem, sir, is that you are far too concerned with what is respectable. You have cost us an entire year of being together!”
Alec turned away. “After I left you, I had no idea whether you would ever want to see me again.”
Fiona smiled at the love of her life. “You must be the dimmest man alive.”
“Thank you.”
There was a long silence during which the two of them looked at each other with idiotic grins.
Fiona’s face sobered. “How long have you come for?”
Alec looked at her, the years of longing etched into his face. “How long will you have me?” he asked quietly.
Fiona threw herself across the bed and into his arms.
“As long as you like,” she said, pressing her tiny frame into his. “We have a policy here of never turning away guests.”
“How do you feel about forever?” Alec asked.
She looked down at him. “I think that could be arranged,” she said with an earthy giggle.
They held each other for a while, each of them absorbing what they’d just confessed. Fiona sat up abruptly.
“What in heaven’s name have you been doing all this time?” she asked.
Alec climbed out of bed, naked, and rummaged through the pockets of his sport coat.
“What are you after now?” Fiona marveled at how trim Alec’s body was still.
“Your birthday gift, of course,” Alec mumbled. “Ah!”
He straightened, returned to the bed, and handed her a small parcel.
She pulled off the gift wrapping and found a slender book. She turned it over and looked at the cover. There was a banner across the top: “The National Bestseller!” The cover was a soft-focused photograph of a gently curving slope, dipping down and then rising again. She was about to go look for her reading glasses when she realized it was a close-up of the small of a woman’s back. The title of the book was Skin Hunger. The author, Alec Hudson. She opened the book and found a collection of poems. The title poem, the one she’d read years before, was first. There were many more. She was about to close the book when she came upon the dedication page. Surrounded by white space were three small words:
For Fi,
Forever
And again the tears came. Fiona thought they must have been stored up over all those empty years and wondered whether they would ever stop.
Alec took her in his arms. “I’m glad to say that’s not been the response of most of my readers.”
He felt her laughing through her tears.
“Is this about us?” she asked, sniffling and waving the book.
“It could be if we want it to be.”
Fiona pushed the tears from her eyes and stood up. “Put some clothes on, you wonderful, idiotic man; Meaghan’s made me a lovely birthday dinner, and you’re invited.”
“Do you mind if I clean up a bit?”
“Of course not, but be quick about it!”
And with that she fairly skipped out of the room, clutching the little book to her breast.
Alec bathed in the familiar claw-foot tub, shaved, and changed. Someone had fetched his suitcase while he slept.
As he approached the kitchen the aromas were rich and exotic. When he entered the room, he found Fiona and Meaghan, arm in arm. At the Aga, stirring a large pot, was Owen Lewis.
Owen heard him and turned, crossed the room, and wrapped Alec in a bear hug. Alec’s heart was so full he could hardly stand it. “Owen,” he said, holding the younger man’s embrace longer, “I am so happy for you and Meaghan.”
Owen stood back and held Alec by his shoulders.
“Welcome home, friend,” he said.
Alec sat at the kitchen table and looked around the room he had thought about so often over the years—the beamed ceiling, the limestone floor, the warm wood and cream-colored cabinets, the massive stove. Little had changed. Fiona walked around behind him and ran her fingers through his hair.
“Dinner in moments,” Meaghan said, taking Owen’s place at the cooker.
“Get you anything in the meantime?” Owen asked him.
“Is there a decent glass of wine in this establishment?”
Owen went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay. “It’s from Australia; will that do?”
Alec frowned. “Is it alcoholic?”
Owen looked troubled. “Um, yes, I suppose it must be.”
“Then it will do!” Alec cried, and the four of them laughed as Owen poured. Alec stood, gestured to Fiona’s daughter, raised his glass, and said, smiling broadly, “To new beginnings.”
Meaghan’s lips quivered and tears filled her eyes. She took her husband’s glass of wine, touched Alec’s, took a small sip, and said, “For us all, Alec; for us all.”
Meaghan had made a fragrant Mediterranean fish stew, thick with shellfish and saffron-infused vegetables.
“It’s all your fault,” she chided Alec. “You got me started cooking!”
“Did I? Oh good,” Alec said, as Meaghan passed around the laden bowls.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Owen said, patting his belly. He’d put on weight. “Hard to know which of us is having the baby!”
Dinner was a noisy affair, full of laughter and storytelling and catching up. As they finished, Alec rose to clear the dishes.
“You never learn, do you?” Fiona scolded, slapping his hands away.
“That reminds me ... ,” Owen said, dashing out the back door. He returned a few moments later with a large cardboard box. He set it on the table and removed its top to reveal a triple-layer, dark chocolate birthday cake, with the number “50” traced out in butter cream icing.
“It’s from Brandith,” Owen explained. “We were going to add all the candles, too, but ...”
“... it violated the fire code, right?” Alec added.
“Hey!” Fiona cried, hands on hips. “Who are you to talk?”
“I’m fit as a fiddle, I’ll have you know,” Alec countered. “Never felt younger!”
Fiona leaned close and whispered in his ear, “We’ll just see about that later.”
Alec lifted an eyebrow and Fiona stifled a giggle as Meaghan passed around slices of birthday cake.
The cake was luscious. Alec learned that Brandith had expanded beyond her shop into catering.
Alec pushed himself back from the table when he finished and accepted a coffee from Meaghan. “I had a thought in the bath earlier ...”
The three others stopped what they were doing.
“Given your obvious culinary talents, Meaghan, have you considered the possibility of offering not just bed-and-breakfast, but an evening meal as well? After all, there isn’t much choice in Dolgellau. You could offer a choice of perhaps three entrees. Maybe even offer wine at a fair price.”
Meaghan and Fiona looked at each other.
“We were just talking about that last week,” Meaghan said.
“Well then,” Alec said, “I wonder if I might apply for the job of sous chef?”
Meaghan looked at him, openmouthed. Then she thrust out her right hand and Alec grasped it.
“Done!” she said. “When can you start?”
“Hang on a bit,” Alec said seriously, “there’s the little matter of wages.”
Fiona wrapped her arms around Alec’s shoulders. “It’s food, lodging, and all the comforts, just like before,” she said.
Alec looked around him, at Meaghan, at Owen, and finally at Fiona. He made as if he was considering the offer carefully. Then he turned, pulled Fiona’s face toward his, kissed her firmly, and said, “You’ve got a deal!
“Now,” he added, “where are the cigars and the brandy?”
“Cigars?” Owen said with a laugh.
Alec slumped in his chair. “I cannot believe the depths to which this establishment has sunk.”
Then he sat up. “Fi, do you still keep sherry for your guests?”
“Of course I do—or rather we do, since this is Meaghan’s business now, too.”
“Would you be so kind as to bring some in?”
“Why?”
“Call me a traditionalist.”
Meaghan and Owen cleared the table and Fiona returned carrying a tray with a decanter and four small glasses. Alec stood and filled them, splashing only a sip into Meaghan’s.
“More toasts?” Fiona asked.
“Perhaps,” Alec said with a shy smile.
He stood by Fiona’s chair, reached into his pocket, and removed a small box, so small he could cradle it in his palm. It was old and covered in a faded, very pale blue velvet. Embossed in silver letters on top were the words Tiffany & Co. He kneeled where Fiona sat and placed the box in her hand.
“This belonged to my mother,” he said, barely audibly. “Then it belonged to Gwynne. I’d like it to belong to you, Fiona, if you’ll have it.”
Fiona lifted the small box and struggled to control her shaking hands. She eased open the hinged top. Inside, shimmering on a tiny silk pillow, was a fiery diamond set in a simple gold band.
She stared at it a moment, then looked at Alec, smiling, eyes filling, her head cocked to one side.
“You certainly don’t waste any time ...”
“We don’t have many years left,” he whispered.
“Yes, we do, Alec; we have the rest of our lives.”