The High Price of Secrets

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails embedding in his skin as with each pull of his mouth he sent a spear of sensation to her aching core. She needed him—inside her, outside her, everywhere…all the time. Acknowledging that fact was a pleasure-pain that drilled into the back of her mind. This was no fling for her, not anymore. Somehow they’d crossed the invisible boundary of simply being lovers. Somewhere on this journey, she’d fallen irrevocably in love.

A sharp pang resonated through her as the truth hit home. Was she forever destined to fall in love with men who’d put others’ needs before her own?

Now wasn’t the time to reach for the answer to that question. Now was a time to take, to share, to give in return. And she did. They shed their clothes until they lay on the blanket, bare in the glorious sunshine, dappled by the shadows of the tree on the outer perimeter of the ruins. How symbolic, she thought, that their coming together like this, right now, should be within the confines of a home, a life, ruined by fire. Hadn’t it been so with her own family? Hadn’t they then risen from the ashes, stronger and better than before?

She could only hope that what she shared with Finn would be the same. That it could withstand the elements that battered against it. That they could rise together in the aftermath. A unit rather than two individuals. And so she gave herself over to the rhythm of their lovemaking, and when he slid his length inside her, she cried out in welcome, closing around him, holding him there as if she wished she need never let go of him again.

Afterward they lay together, legs entangled, his body half across hers. Their heartbeats hammering crazily in their chests as perspiration dried on their skin. Ripples of pleasure still ran through her body, each one gentling in its turn as her breathing slowly returned to normal. A deep lassitude spread through her body. If only they could stay here, like this, forever. No worries about the outside world, about the people within it or the decisions they made.

The sun slid behind a cloud, sending a change through the air. Nature’s reminder that nothing remained in a state of suspension forever. She thought about Finn’s earlier words, about coming to terms with the fact that she might not see Ellen, ever. Could she settle for that? Could she let go of the need to ask the questions that only her mother could answer and still be happy, still move forward with her life?

Only time would tell.

* * *

Back at the house, Finn asked Tamsyn to move into his room and heaved a sigh of relief when she agreed. He might not be able to offer her what it was she wanted most, but he could openly give himself as much and as often as she’d have him.

Over the next two weeks, they settled into a pattern together, one interrupted only by her volunteer work in town. For the rest of the time, he’d invited her to help him with the early planning stages of the respite center.

Her experience at The Masters proved surprisingly useful as they discussed the construction and outfitting of the family chalets. Her work in restoring and converting the old laborers cottages on their family property into luxury accommodation gave her insights and ideas that he found integral moving forward.

They made a terrific team. So terrific that he could barely sleep at night, wondering when it was all going to fall apart. What would Tamsyn do when she found out the last secret—that Ellen had not chosen to bar Tamsyn’s access to her after all but was, instead, dying…and that he’d known it all along? Would she ever forgive him when the truth came out? Was there any way he could keep from losing her?

Christmas loomed in just ten days’ time. He’d half expected Tamsyn to at least want to head home for the holiday but she’d shown no inclination to want to be with her family. Instead, she’d teased him into buying a tall tree and festooned it with lights and decorations, some of which were ones his mother had carefully collected, spared in the house fire since they’d been stored in the detached garage.

He’d forgotten he had them, to be honest, until she’d started in about the tree. Decorating it with her had brought happier memories back to the surface in his heart. Memories of times with his parents when they looked forward to the festive season and made a huge fuss over him. Memories of Lorenzo, Ellen, Alexis and him sharing Christmas meals and the spirit of giving.

Each night he and Tamsyn had begun their own ritual, turning on the tree lights as soon as they finished their work, even though dark didn’t come until closer to eight-thirty in the evening. Before they prepared their evening meal together, they’d share a glass of wine and share stories as they sat by the tree, his peppered with vignettes of life with Ellen and Lorenzo, as well.