A Winter Story

Nicola had a little weep at that point, I think less because of the pain and more because of the frustration she felt having one accident after another. When I dried her eyes she expressed some doubts about my staying in the house overnight. She thought it might start rumours round the village. I countered this firmly by saying that if I couldn't stay where I was near her I wouldn't look after her and then she would have to go to the hospital.

If by chance that sounds selfless on my part, then let me hasten to add that there was a strong element of self interest involved. The caravan was awful in the winter, not being one of the fancy modern ones. Oil for heating cost money and financially things were tight. So a comfortable berth in Nicola's cottage, even if only for a week or two, would come as a blessing. In addition there was the continued prospect of free meals.

So it was agreed that I should virtually live in the cottage, caring for Nicola, until she was properly mobile again.

She insisted that during the day she continued to use the divan saying that since I prepared the meals and did a bit of clearing up downstairs, she would be able to see and talk to me.

Looking after her during the day had to be fitted in around the few jobs I had, but I was able to drop in and see if she was all right at fairly regular intervals. Playing the macho hero we overcame the difficulties of getting her upstairs by me carrying her.

Living close to someone gives you a different perspective on them than if you're only dropping in from time to time. Of course, one of the most notable changes in how I thought and felt about Nicola came about through my carrying her. Feeling her so close, the firmness of her body and the fragrance of her skin enhanced the mild sexual interest I'd had in her.

Seeing her in her nightdress also had its effect. I had only seen her fully clothed up to the time of her accidents; now, with more of her body exposed I could see that physically she still retain much of the elasticity of youth. The occasional glimpses I got of the cleavage between breasts, and unexpected firmness of the breasts themselves, had a definitely stimulating effect on me.

For me Nicola had started out by being a business opportunity, then an object of curiosity. From there our relationship had become one of mild friendship. Now sincere caring about her had taken over.

Chapter 8. The Question

By the fourth day after her second accident the bruises started to diminish followed by a reduction in the swelling of her ankle. She was able to get around on her own a bit using a crutch.

It was around that time that what I have always thought of as, "The Question," was asked.

I had made coffee for us and I was seated near Nicola as she lay on the divan. Very quietly – almost casually – she said, "You know Edward, I don't really understand why you're so kind to me. We've only known each other for a short time, caring for me must have interfered with your work, and yet you've behaved like a very dear friend. Why do you do it?"

Her question, totally unexpected, had me rattled. When I answered her the response seem to well up from inside me and came out in the simplest and yet the most profound words without my thinking about them.

"Because I love you Nicola."

If her question had shaken me, my answer seemed to have an even more dramatic effect on Nicola.

For a moment her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she was looking into herself, then they focused intensely on my face as if trying to look deep into me.

Very quietly, and in a voice of infinite sadness, she said, "No...no...no, Edward, you mustn't love me. You can't...I won't let you."

Then more loudly she repeated, "I won't let you, do you understand, I won't."

I realised that this response had its source in the pain she had experienced with Jeremy. I remained silent for almost a minute wishing I hadn't spoken those words, and then said, "Nicola, you can't stop me loving you. I'm not asking you to love me; I'm not demanding or expecting anything. All I do ask is that you let me care for you, nothing more."

Where this unselfish motive came from I didn't know, but at that moment it was sincerely meant.

There was another pause, and then Nicola reached out to me and touched my hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I thought you might want to..." She paused again and then went on, "You see there's such a difference in our ages, and I can't give what your love might one day ask for, I've...I've been through too much."

I smiled at her and said, "I don't think love asks the age of the one loved."

I saw a tear roll down her cheek so I took a tissue from the box beside Nicola and wiped it away. "No need for tears," I said, "I know you've been badly hurt by..."

I almost blurted out "Jeremy" but stopped myself just in time; instead I said, "By someone."

Nicola looked at me searchingly again and asked, "What makes you say that?"

I said, "I could see it in your eyes, in the way you stood and walked the first time I saw you." I didn't add, "And in the letters from Jeremy," and that was nearer the truth.

As if what I said had given rise to a related matter in Nicola's mind she said, "I have to be in town by the middle of next week," and giving me a wan smile she added, "so you'll have to look after me rather well."

I was glad of this change in direction since I suspected I'd already said too much, so I went on as cheerfully as I could, "I'll do that."

Another couple of days and Nicola was hobbling around with a stick and my presence in her cottage was starting to become superfluous. I decided to pre-empt any suggestion from Nicola that it was time for me to leave by suggesting it myself.

"Oh, there's not need for you to go back to the caravan yet Edward," she declared, "you might as well stay here until I get back from town. You'll be able to look after the place properly."

I made some slight protest but was overridden, and so I stayed on.

Chapter 10. Revelation

By the time Nicola was due to leave her ankle was such that she could still not drive safely. I tried to persuade her not to go, but she was determined, and without saying what it was that was so vital she made it clear that it was essential for her to go.

On the day of her departure I drove her in her car to the railway station in a nearby town – the only viable way of getting to the city apart from by car – and waved her off from the platform.

It was nearly a week before my mobile buzzed and Nicola told me she would be arriving back the next day, and would I pick her up at the station at 1-30 p.m.

When I saw her at the station I could tell that something extremely unpleasant must have happened. Her bruises had gone and she was walking without the stick, but her whole demeanour was redolent of the first time I'd seen her, only worse. She had a drained, beaten look and at the same time there was rigidity about her as if she was striving to hold something inside her that was hammering to get out.

As we drove to the cottage I tried asked her about her stay in town and her trip, but she only answered in monosyllables. Back in the cottage I asked if she'd had lunch and she said, "No, I haven't felt like eating."

"If I make you something now," I asked, "would you try and eat it?"

She shrugged and sat down on the divan. I set about making her a couple of thinly sliced sandwiches and some tea; when I carried them to her it was to find her sitting there with tears streaming down her face.

I put the tray on a little table and sat beside Nicola, and taking her hand I asked, "What is it Nicola, what's happened?"

Out it all poured as if the floods gates holding back her emotions had been opened.

The reason she had gone to town was to finalise her divorce. That in itself had been painful enough, but right to the last her husband, whom she now named as Jeremy, had continued to plead with her to take him back.

Some of what she had to say I already knew from the letters I'd read, but there was more that I didn't know.

"I knew why he wanted to come back to me," she sobbed. "I was his milch cow; I was an easy mark because I really did love him. He wanted to live off me again.

"Didn't he work?" I asked.

She gave a brief derisive laugh. "Work! Like me he was supposed to be a writer, but for the five years we were married he wrote nothing. Oh, he pretended to write and I believed him when he talked about what he was doing, but nothing ever appeared."

"Didn't he ever publish anything?"

"No, and I doubt if he ever will. My God, Edward, I was so enamoured with him and even when I realised he was living off me I didn't care, just so long as I had him. Foolish female egotism I suppose. He was ten years younger than me, good looking and charming, and I fell for it."

Already knowing from the letters what the answer to my question would be I asked, "So what happened to change things?"

She broke into loud sobs again and said, "Would you hold me Edward, I want to be held."

I put my arm round her and drew her to me and let her cry.

When she spoke again it was to relate what in substance I already knew. She had been visiting her agent and had come home earlier than expected to find Jeremy in bed with a girl. That was no doubt bad enough, but there was more to come.

"You see, Edward, I was pregnant. I knew about the dangers of getting pregnant at my age but Jeremy had wanted me to have a child so badly. I think now that I agreed to try and make sure I held on to him, and perhaps he had the same motive; it would make him more secure with me."

She paused for a long time, then went on, "When you first saw me I had just got over a miscarriage."

"You mean, seeing Jeremy with the girl...?"

"Yes, and I know you'll think it foolish of me, but that's the real reason I could never take him back. I might have been able to forgive his unfaithfulness. At around six months into my pregnancy I'd been advised not to have sexual intercourse and according to Jeremy that's why he had sought sex elsewhere. I might just have been able to accept that, but what I can't forgive him for is the miscarriage. Can you understand that, Edward?"

"Yes, I can understand that." I now understood what Jeremy had meant in his letters when he wrote of her "condition."

We sat in silence for a long time, my arm round her as she gradually cried out her pain. I felt an overwhelming tenderness for her and wanted to stay with her and look after her, but with her arrival back in the cottage the time for me to depart seemed to have arrived.

She ate the sandwiches I had made and even drank the tea that by now was at best lukewarm.

When I felt that she had calmed down I said, "Now you're back I'd better make a move. I'll get my things together and leave."

I felt her hold on me tighten as she said hesitantly, "Could you...would you stay a bit longer Edward? I don't really want to be alone just now, and if you could stay...just for a couple of days...and you aren't in a hurry to go back to the caravan, are you?"

"Well no..." I said, "But I don't want to intrude, I just thought..."

"Then you'll stay, just for a few days?"

"Yes, of course, and I can keep an eye on you and see that you don't damage that beautiful face again."

I suppose I'd referred to her "beautiful face" in a partially unthinking and slightly facetious manner, not expecting to be taken seriously, but Nicola took it up.

I saw a flush of pleasure diffuse her pallid features as she said in an unexpectedly coquettish voice, "I'm not beautiful, Edward, you mustn't say things like that to me."

Having gone down that track I decided I'd better follow through, and after all she did have really lovely facial bone structure.

"But of course you're beautiful, I love looking at your face."

"Please Edward; don't say that, he used to talk like that."

I knew that by "he" she meant Jeremy so I thought I'd better not pursue the subject, but couldn't help adding, "Well that's how I see you."

She managed a laugh and said, "Good, now I'm not an invalid any more so I'm going to prepare a lovely dinner for us, you go and do whatever you have to do and let me get on with it."

I didn't really have anything to do just then, but deciding to make myself scarce for a while I went and pottered around Miss Libby's garden just for the sake of keeping out of Nicola's way for a while – no extra charge to Miss Libby.

And so I stayed with Nicola for the couple of days agreed to, and when I again made the suggestion that it was time for me to move out she again persuaded me to stay on for yet another couple of days.

Chapter 11. Domesticity Prevails

With the divorce behind her, and having got the poison out of her system by talking about herself, Jeremy and the lost child, Nicola began to show signs of recovery. Colour came back into her face and she seemed to be exuding a sense of optimism.

She worked at her computer for several hours each day saying that she had a deadline to meet with her next novel, and went for a walk for about an hour each day, accompanied by me on a few occasions. If she couldn't be exactly described as beautiful, she was becoming quite eye-catching.

The situation was beginning to look positively domestic, without of course the intimacy of bedtime recreation. This became increasingly frustrating because quite apart from my now pressing sexual interest in Nicola, my comfort lady announced the she was being courted by a local widower and thought she'd better shut up shop as far as I was concerned. To make matters worse my casual ladies rarely came in the winter, so taken all round I was feeling somewhat deprived.

In the light of this situation I thought that it was definitely time for me to remove myself from Nicola's presence. I had come to value her company and friendship and I felt that if I lingered much longer in the cottage I would say or do something that would bring an end to our relationship.

It is strange, but it appears at times that some Almighty Hand seems to play a part in our destiny. On day before I had determined I would leave the cottage an event took place that was to have a profound influence on my life.

It was to be my last night in the cottage and I still hadn't told Nicola I would be leaving. During that last evening Nicola continued to work on her computer because the deadline for her novel was close. I had sat by the fire reading until time came for bed. I went to the study to say goodnight to Nicola, and she said she'd had enough and would also go to bed.

We made our way together to our rooms and outside her bedroom I said goodnight. Nicola did not respond, but stood her head bent, and said very uncertainly, "Edward I...I don't...I don't want to be alone tonight."

"What?" I said, startled.

"If you love me then stay with me tonight," she said a little more boldly.

"You mean, come to bed with you?"

"Yes, does that make me sound like a slut?"

"No, of course not, it's just that I never thought....thought that you'd want..."

"Its been a long time, Edward, and I want...I trust you...I believe you won't just use me."

I felt a nasty pang of guilt spear through me. I had used her, at least in the beginning, but now I hesitated because I really didn't want to take advantage of what might prove to be only a moment of loneliness – of vulnerability. I suppose if anything proved that I loved her that did.

"Are you sure, Nicola, I mean, there tomorrow morning and you might..."

"No...no, it's all right, I know what I want, so please..."

She stopped speaking and kissed me on the lips; not a violently passionate kiss, but gentle and loving. Then she took my hand and drew me to her bedroom and there kissed me again.

"I feel safe with you, Edward," she said very confidently, "you've been so good to me and I know you love me, so why shouldn't we have what love can give and receive?"

She started to undress me, so I began to unbutton her shirt. Other such moments in my life always seemed to be hurried, but with Nicola it was different, and that set the pattern for the night.

I had of course, never seen her naked and as she gradually became revealed to me I saw how desirable her body was, with not overly large, but firm breasts, long legs and a little triangle of pubic hair that somehow made her seem touchingly sweet and innocent.

I was about to tell her how lovely she looked, but she got in before me.

"You have a beautiful body, Edward; so strong and manly."

She had blushed at my compliments in the past, now it was my turn. No one had ever said that to me before.

She drew me towards the bed and getting in herself patted the place beside her.

Once there we lay, looking into each others eyes, neither speaking nor moving. I had the crazy notion that I didn't want to touch her because she seemed so pure. Certainly I knew she must have engaged in sexual intercourse many times, but for me at that moment she seemed almost virginal.

"Don't you want me?" she asked softly.

"Yes," I replied, "but you look so delicate."

She smiled and drew my hand to her breast saying, "I promise you I won't break." With that she kissed me, this time with undeniable desire.

I've heard some men say that all women are the same in bed. In my own experience that had proved to be more or less true. One female body felt much like another, one vagina seemed as good as another. With Nicola I found for the first time something that was different.

To describe it is difficult and no adjective seems to suffice. There was gentleness, a delicacy about her, and a feeling of lightness. First time intercourse is so often hurried and even violent, but with Nicola it was so tender.

We took a long time over our foreplay, touching, pressing, kissing and licking. We explored each other slowly, and when I finally penetrated her I understood why a woman's vagina is sometimes referred to as "a tunnel of love." That was what it felt like with its soft, clinging moistness and warmth.

Whereas men often ejaculate quickly, I had learned that women like coition to last for a long time. My comfort lady had taught me how to hold back from my climax, and now I moved slowly in Nicola.

I was rewarded at intervals by little cries of, "It's so lovely, Edward," and I was able to say to her truthfully, "It's you that makes it lovely, Nicola."

Even when she finally orgasmed it was with the same delicacy and lightness that had prevailed throughout. Each time I had felt her orgasm approaching I had withdrawn from her, trying to prolong our union, but after about half an hour she said, "I want to come now, Edward, let it happen and come with me."

Her movements became sharp and rapid as she pushed up against my downward thrusts. I could feel her already soaking tunnel starting to flood with lubricant and as her orgasm took over, instead of the usual squeals and loud cries, she sighed and murmured, "It's lovely...lovely..."

Her movements changed to long upward thrusts; I released my sperm into her just as she climaxed and it was then she gave a gentle cry and clung to me, winding her legs round me. But even in this there was that lightness.

I was looking down at her as I came into her, and something like a transformation seemed to have taken place. In her orgasmic delight she really did look beautiful. It was as if the years fell away from her and the pain and misery she had experienced dissipated.

When I had emptied myself into her I whispered, "You really are beautiful, Nicola."

She was experiencing her post climax after shocks and throughout her orgasm her eyes had been shut; now they opened wide and looked at me as she said, "I love you Edward, I do love you my darling."

She finished with a long drawn out sigh of contentment and I withdrew from her. She curled her body against mine and I held her close, irrationally feeling the need to protect her.