Canon Ch. 08

Once or twice a week; no more, and sometimes less. But that was more than they could have hoped for, if they had dared to hope at all. It was enough, and more than enough. It was Heaven. They were not yet finished.

---

Their lovemaking was a blessing, but it was infrequent. It was not the center of their life on the island. That was their love and deep friendship, their comfort with each other, the absolute trust and caring that they shared.

Sensuality was still with them, though, and that always. Geoff began to go naked, too, and his aged body grew brown from the sun. They touched each other as they liked. They had long since learned that intimacy, even sexual intimacy and carnal pleasure, did not depend on orgasm.

Even so, Amy came every day. Geoff insisted on it, and he licked and sucked her sweet pussy to orgasm, or held her and felt her up, or watched her work one of her knobby, buzzing dildos in her hole as she looked back at him in devotion and ecstasy. He loved to make her sweat and keep her quivering on the brink, to tease her and please her and play her lovely bare body like a violin.

Even with all that, Geoff knew that it was still a hard time for Amy, and would grow still harder. He held her when she cried for him and reminded her of her own lesson. "That's tomorrow, Punkin," he'd whisper. "Today is the only time there is."

They talked and cuddled and swam in the endless sea; they played games and laughed and watched the sunsets and the stars and sat by the fire.

They ate what they liked. Amy put on a bit more weight, and her pale skin slowly took on that golden glow that Geoff so loved - and perhaps her curvy, sun-kissed body, so sweetly bare and lovely for him at all times, was another aspect of Paradise that made Geoff's cock stand up and their time stand still.

---

And how long did they live so, there, on the island?

In one sense, it didn't matter. Each day was an eternity; no past, no future, just that endless day - and there were many. It seemed, sometimes, that they had been there for years. For decades. Forever. And perhaps they were.

After four months on the island, they began to wonder just how long they could and would go on in this way; but they never talked about going home. Coming here, they knew, was what had restored Geoff, had given him new life, had given him more time. This time.

It truly was Paradise. No worries, no responsibilities, no schedule, no appointments, no pressure. They played and laughed like children, and answered to no one but each other.

Sunlight, starlight and moonlight; sand and sea, wind and rain. No silly television, no newspapers, no movies, no politics. No traffic, no muggers, no city noise. No one to look at them strangely, to wonder, or to laugh. There were only the earth, the sea, their love, and each other, and they would stay and savor this magical time as long as it lasted.

---

They kept in touch with Amy's parents and a few close friends by satellite phone; they laughed over the fact that they rarely knew the day of the week, let alone the date. Neither mattered.

The sound of the plane was always a surprise, and Amy would either scurry to the dock and try to dress before it skimmed across the lagoon, or hide naked in the brush until it left.

The days went on and on. Each night, in each other's arms, was a prayer; each morning was an answer and a blessing.

But they knew it couldn't last forever - and it didn't.

--- Geoff awoke before sunrise. He was lying beside Amy on their featherbed, outside their hut under the Pacific sky. He looked up at the stars; he was instantly wide awake, all his senses acute and aware.

Now, he thought. Right now. He lay there without moving.

There was a sharp, hot pain between his shoulder blades and snaking down his left arm. His chest felt as if there were a strap bound tightly around it and drawing tighter; he could hardly breathe.

He knew what it was.

Geoff looked at Amy, sleeping peacefully beside him; then he looked at the beach beyond her, at the small waves breaking on the sand.

His first thought was to somehow slip away quietly and go down to the water, alone; then he looked at Amy again.

No.

He smiled, even through the pain, as he thought it: I'd never hear the end of it if I did that to her...

The old man knew he had only minutes. His left arm was curled close to his chest; he reached out and touched her face with his right, then laid it down again.

Amy woke and looked at him - and gasped. His face was drawn and ashen, his eyes narrowed in agony. "Geoffie! What-"

"Hold me, Punkin," he said, his voice deep, but weak. "It's time."

"Oh, no! Geoffie-"

"It's all right, Little Heart," he whispered through the pain. "It's coming quick. Like I wanted it." He closed his eyes. "Play the Canon, Amy love. And hold me."

She touched the player. As the slow, deep notes began, she slid upward and cradled his bald old head against her breasts. "Oh, Geoffie - I love you so much..."

He nuzzled her. The violas picked up the theme.

"Love you too. My heart." He was struggling to breathe, to speak.

He looked up at her. "Thank you. Punkin. You gave me. Back myself. Best years. Of my life." The violins began to weave the counterpoint.

"Oh, Geoffie. Who could have loved me like you?" Her tears ran down her cheeks as she stroked his face.

He shook his head and smiled - then winced again. The counterpoint grew more complex, the harmonies weaving round each other.

She kissed him, and he kissed her back. The music soared and swirled around them, and they clung to each other and kissed again.

"Goodbye, my love," she whispered. "You were always my hero."

He smiled and shook his head again. "I'll be. Here. With you. You'll. See."

He gasped and shivered - and held on a little longer.

They hung on to each other and waited for the end. Amy stroked his head and cheek and cradled him in her arms. Geoff clung to her with his one good arm, his face against her chest. The music took them and swept them away, even at that moment - perhaps especially at that moment.

For one last time, time seemed to stop for them; there was only that moment, and the music, and the touch of each other's hearts.

She felt him relax - but he was not gone. He had stopped fighting it, stopped resisting, moved past the pain. He lay quietly in her arms and listened - and Amy began to hum for him, the eight deep, endlessly repeated tones of the basses. He smiled and nodded against her chest, and she held him close and hummed and rocked him as he listened.

The music rose to its climax and lifted them, comforted them, both of them. It brought them peace, as it always had. They listened and let it take them, and they loved each other and rocked each other and knew that everything was all right...

And Amy hummed her Geoff to sleep, one last time.

---

The music had ended. There was only the sound of the waves, and the wind in the palms.

The old man's face was peaceful, even smiling. She gently closed his eyes - and smiled, even as she wept. Even in death, his old eyes were on her face, soft and filled with love.

She straightened his arms and legs, as she knew he would have wanted. She kissed his old cheek once more - then she kissed his mouth, his eyes, and his forehead; and only then did she finally cover him with the sheet.

Then she cried, kneeling naked beside him. She let herself feel her loss, and sobbed, shaking with her grief - for a while.

But Geoff had taught her to be strong. She finally wiped her eyes, found the satphone, and called the numbers he had left for her. Then she began to dress.

The day had not yet begun, and Amy knew it would be the longest of her life.

---

Amy sat beside him on the sand, her arms around her knees. It felt strange to be wearing her jeans and T-shirt, after going naked for so long. The sky was just beginning to show a hint of light in the east.

She looked up at the millions of stars above her. Where are you, my love? she thought. Are you up there somewhere? She rested her cheek on her knee and looked at the shrouded, familiar form beside her.

Oh, Geoffie, she thought. I miss you so already...

- and then it happened.

For an instant, no more, she was surrounded with it - more tangible than the sense of his love and presence that accompanied it, more unmistakable than the almost audible words she sensed in her mind - 'I'm still here, Punkin'...

Amy was surrounded by the smell of him, the warm, masculine scent of Geoff's body. She inhaled it deeply; she knew it like she knew her own name, and there was no mistaking it. It was all around her...

- and then it was gone; but the feeling of his presence remained.

"Thank you, Geoff," she breathed, her mouth open in wonder.

She looked at the shape beneath the sheet and smiled. "Thank you, my love. You promised. I should have known you'd keep it."

She hugged her knees and sighed, smiling wistfully, though her strange eyes were still red.

It'll be all right, she told herself. Somehow, it will.

---

She heard it approaching as the sun came up; a Marine helicopter, a big twin-rotor Chinook. She was still sitting beside Geoff's body on the sand, waiting with him on the beach as it landed beyond the dock.

As the young men approached her, she stood. "Ma'am, are you all right?"

She looked up into the concerned eyes of a young buck sergeant. Several other Marines in utility uniforms stood behind him. She realized that her face was wet with tears. "Yes. Yes, I'm all right."

"We're here to take you and Sergeant-Major Rider back to Pearl, Ma'am," said the sergeant. "There's a battle group in the area, and the Navy has diverted our ship and an escort for the trip. Will you come with us?"

"Of course," she said. She looked down at the sheet-covered form. "Here he is. Please be careful."

"We will, Ma'am. I promise you," he said softly.

They carefully slid the old soldier's body into a black body bag - they wondered at her smile; she was thinking how that was what he had wanted, so very long ago - and carried him onto the aircraft with great respect and care.

---

She rode beside him to the battle cruiser that took them to the Naval base at Pearl Harbor, then accompanied his flag-draped casket back to their home town. The flight was not as comfortable as their first-class trip to reach the island; it took place in a Navy C-130, and Amy insisted on riding with Geoff's casket, as she had aboard the ship. She would not allow him to be left alone.

When they arrived, late at night, two days after Geoff's passing, there was an honor guard waiting - and Amy's parents were there, too. They embraced their daughter, and held her as she wept for a few moments.

"What can we do, sweetheart?" asked her father gently. Her mother stroked her back and leaned her head on Amy's.

"Take me home, Daddy," she said.

A Marine officer waited nearby. After Amy signed off on the arrangements the Corps had made, making a few changes, they took her back to the big old house she had shared with Geoff.

Amy made sure her parents were comfortable in her room - though she was the widow, they were still her guests - and then she went into the bedroom she had shared with Geoff, alone. She knew what she would find there.

Loneliness, and tears - and the comfort of her memories. She knew the Canon was there, on the CD player beside the bed - but she could not bear to play it, not that night.

But just as she felt herself sliding toward sleep, Amy felt mysteriously warmed by a sense of love and caring that surrounded her - and, a moment later, for the first time since that morning on the island, she caught the warm scent of him as she lay in their bed.

She smiled - and then, on impulse, she wriggled out of her T-shirt and panties and snuggled beneath the blankets, as naked as she had always been with him.

Only then did she reach out and start their beloved Canon - and she drifted gently off to sleep, with both tears and a sweet smile on her lovely face.

---

She dreamed of his arms, and of sleeping peacefully, safe and warm, as he held her.

Perhaps he did.

---

Geoff's military funeral was deeply moving. The same Methodist church where they were married was packed with flowers, and many men and women in uniform came to pay their respects and give Amy their sympathy.

To Amy's surprise, the music was not pre-recorded, but was provided by a sextet of Marine musicians in dress uniform. "The Marine's Hymn," Whiting's "For Those in Peril on the Sea," "Amazing Grace" - and, last, Pachelbel's "Canon in D."

The last, of course, was specified by Amy, and she sat and wept quietly as the musicians reverently did it justice. Many of those present remembered watching the couple listen to it at Symphony Hall, and, watching, joined her, weeping in sympathy.

The solemn, stylized movements of the honor guard, as they lifted and folded the flag that draped Geoff's casket, brought tears to the eyes of many as well. When the young lance corporal knelt and presented it to Amy - "on behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation" - she accepted it with dignity and grace, then held it clasped against her heart for the rest of the service.

There was a 21-gun salute at the graveside, followed by that most difficult and moving moment of all - the playing of "Taps" by a trumpeter visible atop a nearby hill. The ache and sorrow were felt even by those who never knew Geoff, and no one moved till the last echoing note died away.

Amy stopped the service for a moment then, lifting her small hand before the casket was lowered into the ground.

As the others waited, she knelt by Geoff's coffin for a few moments, with her hand on top of it. Her lips were moving, but no one knew what she said - or whether she was speaking to God, to Geoff, or both.

She took her place beside her parents again, and it was done.

---

Amy's parents stayed for a few days; but she seemed to be holding up well, and they eventually returned home.

"Are you sure you won't come home with us for a while, sweetheart?" her father asked as they said goodbye on the veranda of the big house.

She smiled. "Thanks, Daddy, but no. I'll stay here. This is home, now. Besides, I start at Riverview on Monday, and they're counting on me."

Her mother hugged her. "You're taking this so well, Amy. I'm so proud of you." She smiled. "Geoffrey would be, too."

He is, she thought; then said, "Well, it wasn't a shock, Mom. I've known this was coming for a long time." Then she smiled wistfully. "And he went easy, on the island. Like he wanted to."

A few more hugs and kisses, and they left. Amy waved as they drove through the gate, then went back inside.

The big old house was quiet, and very empty - but Amy smiled. It was filled with Geoff's personality, from the worn old hardwood floors to the worn old leather sofa. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

It's not like I'd miss him less if I went back with Mom and Dad, she thought.

She looked around at the kitchen where they had talked and laughed and loved. I'd miss him more, she thought. No, I want to be here.

For an instant, she saw a vision of him in her mind - standing in the kitchen in his ridiculous hipboots and parka and scuba mask and mittens, playing the fool to make her laugh. All his seriousness and dignity and macho thrown out the window, just to make her feel good.

Good, and naked, she thought. She laughed, even as the tears fell from her eyes.

She looked out the window at the pool, and on impulse, she shed her clothes, flipped the switch by the back door that started the waterfall, and walked out the back door naked.

As she walked across the grass, she thought: yes, this feels right. This is how I want to be.

Naked. For Geoffie.

She could almost feel him watching her.

She dived in, and the water, cool and cleansing, washed her tears away.

---

The days went by. She had no need to work; Geoff had left her very well provided for indeed. But rattling around that big old house all day, every day, would not have suited her.

Amy volunteered at a nearby nursing home, caring for the elderly residents with compassion, good humor, and skill. The old people sensed her respect and understanding, and grew to love her and look forward to her visits. They became her friends as well as her patients.

Amy enjoyed her time at the facility too, and before long she was there from morning till evening most weekdays. So many of the residents there were so lonely - virtually abandoned and forgotten by their families - that her heart went out to them; but she enjoyed their company too. Their memories were fascinating; that all had wonderful stories to tell, and loved to tell them and to have someone to listen. Even those whose minds were no longer as sharp as they had once been were comforted by a touch, or a hug, or just some time not being alone.

She enjoyed just sitting and talking with the residents, but she didn't balk at helping them use the toilet or changing their clothes and bedding, either. Both she and they knew that those were expressions of love and caring as much as a hug or a kiss - and her good humor and jokes as she helped them allowed them to keep their dignity, and that was the most precious thing of all.

Geoff had taught her more than how to fight and shoot.

---

She was content to live alone where they had once lived together, and spend her days and nights in what had been his space, and then theirs.

She missed him still, and badly. She dreamed of him often, and woke up smiling - or crying. She hugged her pillow in the bed they had shared and dreamed of his arms, his touch, his deep, soft voice.

She lay alone, reading, on the couch they had shared so often, and missed him even as her mind was occupied. She never took a shower, or a swim, or a steam, or ate a meal, or looked in a mirror, when she did not think of him. She didn't cry so much, after a few weeks; but she ached for him, and felt his absence, every minute of every day...

Except for those strange, rare moments when he seemed to be nearby. She felt his warm presence, or smelled his scent, or seemed to remember and almost hear or feel his voice or his touch with especial vividness. Those moments were rare, but seemed to grow no rarer; and they seemed to come to her when she needed them most.

And then, one night - a couple of months after his passing - she dreamed a dream that was different.

---

....Amy was crouching naked over Geoff in the steam room, running with sweat, breathing in the searing fog, pumping her clenching pussy on his stiff organ as he caressed her slick body and kissed her deeply. She pressed herself against him and clung to him, trembling as she slid her gushing hole up and down on his cock, sucking him off with her pussy, working to draw out his cum...

She felt him shudder, and ground her wet crotch into him and sucked on his tongue; she felt his orgasm rising as they fucked, so close, so lovingly, so bare and warm in the sunlight, naked on their beach....

And she jerked and shivered helplessly as she came on his spurting bone, writhing beneath him in their bed as he stabbed his squirting cock as deep inside her as he could, groaning into her mouth, pulling at her desperately even as she worked to make him cum harder....

Amy awoke as she came down from her orgasm. Her sheets were soaked, her body shaking, and her pussy was spasming still. She was confused to find herself holding her knees back and wide apart, her hips cocked upward, still working subtly. What on Earth....

It was so real, she thought as she lowered her legs and tried to stop trembling. So real...