him, but he ground his teeth together to quell the sound and resisted the pain lancing through his bruised ribs.
"I was thinking about home today," Emma said. "I miss my cottage."
"Nice… place?"
"I think so. It was originally a freestanding four–bay garage at a beachfront estate. The owner’s heirs were from New England. They had no interest in maintaining or using the property, so they put it up for sale. It was in such terrible condition, I was able to acquire the garage and the lot at a reasonable price, which is pretty unusual in California. After making some rough sketches of a cottage, I took my ideas to an architect so that he could do the plans. Then, I hired my uncle, the contractor, to do the actual remodeling." She hesitated. "Do you really want to hear all this?"
"Yes."
"Alright then. We started from scratch, and the end result was a two–bedroom cottage in a very contemporary design. It’s spacious, wonderfully private, and it sits at the edge of a low bluff that overlooks the Pacific. I even have a rose garden along one side of the house."
"Good… views?" he asked, determined to hold up his end of the conversation.
"The most spectacular view of the beach and the ocean in the world," she said enthusiastically. "It’s the first thing I see each morning and the last thing I see each night before I go to bed. I really miss it when I’m away. I love starting my day with a walk on the beach just as the sun comes up. It’s serene, despite the fact that we get a lot of tourists. It’s as though there’s an unspoken understanding that we all respect one another’s need for privacy."
David felt a sudden ache in his loins as he pondered sharing nights with Emma and then waking up beside her each morning in her cottage. He suspected that her cherished Pacific view would pale in comparison to her naked sensuality.
"Braggart… Montana same… for me."
"You’re darn right I’m a braggart. I can’t wait for you to see it, David. It’s really a slice of heaven." She paused for a moment before admitting, "I think about it whenever I’m frightened, especially if I wake up in the middle of the night and I can’t get back to sleep. You’ll understand why when you visit me."
His heart lurched. "I’m… invited?"
"Where else would we celebrate your birthday?"
"I feel… old enough… right now… to celebrate… hundredth birthday."
"You’re just a little… dented," she reminded him, using his word. "You’ll feel better once you’ve had some rest, which you should probably try to get now."
"Hope so."
"Is anything broken?"
"Don’t… think so… just bruised… all over."
"Rubber hoses or lengths of pipe? Or both?" she asked, her voice losing its buoyancy.
"Mostly… pipe," he admitted. "How…" His voice trailed off, and he waited. Her answering silence unnerved him. "Emma?"
"I had my turn with the hoses before they brought me to this cell," she said quietly, "but the bruises are almost faded now."
Stunned, he said, "You… didn’t… tell…"
"David, I don’t want to talk about me. Please."
"Emma." He groaned her name, shattered that she’d hidden the truth from him.
"I mean it, David. I’m going to be fine, and so are you. I know you’ll get better. You’re the strongest, most resilient man I’ve ever known," Emma insisted before a choked sound cut off her words.
"Cream… puff." In the silence that followed, he heard the broken sounds coming from her cell. He recognized them for what they were. "Please… don’t… cry."
"I’m not."
"Yes… you are."
"David," she began.
"No more… withholding… truth. Promise?"
She laughed, a faintly soggy sound thanks to her tears. "You must be feeling better. You almost sound like your old self. And for the record,
Major
Winslow, I do talk to you when I’m about to lose it. I’d go insane if I didn’t."
"Not… alone, Emma. Not… worth much… right now… but… here… for you."
"You’re worth everything, and then some.
"I was thinking about home today," Emma said. "I miss my cottage."
"Nice… place?"
"I think so. It was originally a freestanding four–bay garage at a beachfront estate. The owner’s heirs were from New England. They had no interest in maintaining or using the property, so they put it up for sale. It was in such terrible condition, I was able to acquire the garage and the lot at a reasonable price, which is pretty unusual in California. After making some rough sketches of a cottage, I took my ideas to an architect so that he could do the plans. Then, I hired my uncle, the contractor, to do the actual remodeling." She hesitated. "Do you really want to hear all this?"
"Yes."
"Alright then. We started from scratch, and the end result was a two–bedroom cottage in a very contemporary design. It’s spacious, wonderfully private, and it sits at the edge of a low bluff that overlooks the Pacific. I even have a rose garden along one side of the house."
"Good… views?" he asked, determined to hold up his end of the conversation.
"The most spectacular view of the beach and the ocean in the world," she said enthusiastically. "It’s the first thing I see each morning and the last thing I see each night before I go to bed. I really miss it when I’m away. I love starting my day with a walk on the beach just as the sun comes up. It’s serene, despite the fact that we get a lot of tourists. It’s as though there’s an unspoken understanding that we all respect one another’s need for privacy."
David felt a sudden ache in his loins as he pondered sharing nights with Emma and then waking up beside her each morning in her cottage. He suspected that her cherished Pacific view would pale in comparison to her naked sensuality.
"Braggart… Montana same… for me."
"You’re darn right I’m a braggart. I can’t wait for you to see it, David. It’s really a slice of heaven." She paused for a moment before admitting, "I think about it whenever I’m frightened, especially if I wake up in the middle of the night and I can’t get back to sleep. You’ll understand why when you visit me."
His heart lurched. "I’m… invited?"
"Where else would we celebrate your birthday?"
"I feel… old enough… right now… to celebrate… hundredth birthday."
"You’re just a little… dented," she reminded him, using his word. "You’ll feel better once you’ve had some rest, which you should probably try to get now."
"Hope so."
"Is anything broken?"
"Don’t… think so… just bruised… all over."
"Rubber hoses or lengths of pipe? Or both?" she asked, her voice losing its buoyancy.
"Mostly… pipe," he admitted. "How…" His voice trailed off, and he waited. Her answering silence unnerved him. "Emma?"
"I had my turn with the hoses before they brought me to this cell," she said quietly, "but the bruises are almost faded now."
Stunned, he said, "You… didn’t… tell…"
"David, I don’t want to talk about me. Please."
"Emma." He groaned her name, shattered that she’d hidden the truth from him.
"I mean it, David. I’m going to be fine, and so are you. I know you’ll get better. You’re the strongest, most resilient man I’ve ever known," Emma insisted before a choked sound cut off her words.
"Cream… puff." In the silence that followed, he heard the broken sounds coming from her cell. He recognized them for what they were. "Please… don’t… cry."
"I’m not."
"Yes… you are."
"David," she began.
"No more… withholding… truth. Promise?"
She laughed, a faintly soggy sound thanks to her tears. "You must be feeling better. You almost sound like your old self. And for the record,
Major
Winslow, I do talk to you when I’m about to lose it. I’d go insane if I didn’t."
"Not… alone, Emma. Not… worth much… right now… but… here… for you."
"You’re worth everything, and then some.
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