Canon Ch. 10

---

In subsequent days, Amy went about her tasks calmly, with a quiet serenity she had not known she could achieve. When she went to see Jeff, she held his hand and spoke to him now; before, wrapped up in her own loneliness and fear, she could only sit beside him and watch. He couldn't give her the affection and love she so needed, not now, but that didn't mean she couldn't give hers to him.

He didn't respond; he just lay there, his hand limp in hers. But she had learned that there was more to the world than what she could see, and she knew that somehow, somewhere, he felt her love.

After he was moved to a private room, she encouraged the kids to come and talk to their father as if he were awake; they were uncomfortable at first, but being kids, soon they were chattering away as if Jeff were listening and laughing.

And one day, after the twins had told him about a class trip to the art museum, Jeff smiled. Amy and the kids gathered around him and touched him and hugged him and kissed his bandaged face - and he smiled again.

Amy smiled too. Soon, she thought. Soon...

---

A few days later, Jeff finally regained consciousness - and it wasn't a good thing when he did. He woke to blinding pain, still intense even though blunted by drugs.

The doctors soon had his pain under control, but at the price of full consciousness; he was so heavily medicated that he could barely speak a coherent sentence. He could smile, though, and that was enough for Amy.

The right side of his face was bandaged, and his left eye was red and bleary. He blinked up at his wife, and his lips curved upward. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back weakly - then closed his eye and slept again. It would be days before he could remain awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

Later, he would remember a few bright spots in that dark time; his wife's beautiful face, tearful but grateful; his children, delighted to see him awake but troubled at his appearance; and sleep, lots of healing sleep.

The pain gradually diminished, and Jeff slowly grew stronger. After a week or two of consciousness, Jeff found himself able to stay up for a couple of hours at a stretch and even to leave the bed for short periods - which he reserved for time with Harry and the twins. It was less troubling to them to see Daddy sitting in a chair. He was even allowed to hold the girls in his lap, but only one at a time.

His mind grew clearer, and as the pain ebbed and he grew stronger, Jeff began to reflect on what had happened to him.

He had learned in the hospital that the had been clinically dead for quite some time, and more than once. He had said nothing to anyone about his near-death experience, or about seeing his father. He was still digesting it himself, and, too, he knew that the first person he would tell would be Amy.

Finally, after several more weeks, he was sent home with a warning to stay in bed and behave as if he were a heart-transplant recipient.

"Your heart was grazed by the bullet," said Doctor Wine, "and we had to do what amounts to a double bypass to repair the damage. The good news is that you should recover completely. The bad news is that it's probably going to take the better part of a year."

Amy squeezed Jeff's hand, and he asked, "What about sex?"

The doctor smiled and ran a hand over his thinning hair. "Not for a while. Sorry. But his heart needs to mend a bit before we get it beating that fast." He was looking at Amy, who blushed. Jeff and the doctor grinned. "I'll be running tests on your heart every few weeks. I'll let you know, okay?"

"Fair enough," said Jeff.

"We'll be looking at the head wound and planning some surgery there, too, of course. Eventually we'll fit you with a prosthetic eye, and you'll look normal again, or almost." He looked at the floor for a moment. "We literally dodged a bullet there, Jeff. A quarter-inch to the right or up, and you'd never have made it to the hospital. As it was, we were pretty worried about brain damage, since you were out for so long." At Amy's concerned look, he added, "Don't worry. There wasn't any. Jeff's going to be fine."

Amy puffed out a relieved breath, then looked at her husband fondly. "I dunno about that artificial eye," she said with a smile. "I think the eye patch is kind of dashing." Jeff grinned and touched the black leather patch, which tapered to a strap above his ear, wider there to cover the scar.

"Arrr," he said. "Shiver me timbers, lass." Then he looked at his shoulder. "Where's my parrot?"

They all laughed, and Jeff silently winced. Laughter wasn't wise, in his condition.

Amy took the surgeon's hand in both of her own. "Thank you, Doctor," she said. "Thank you for my husband. For giving him back to me."

Doctor Wine nodded, beaming. "That's what I do," he said. "I give beautiful women their husbands back." He shrugged. "Eh. It's a living..."

They all laughed again, Jeff gently, and Amy pushed his wheelchair out of the hospital room accompanied by the doctor and a nurse.

---

And Jeff was finally home. It was, as Geoff had said, hard on Amy; trying to care for Jeff, and the kids, singlehanded - and keep them from driving their father mad - would have been even harder if her parents hadn't moved into a spare bedroom to help. They frequently took the kids back to their own place, for days at a time; but there were no sexual adventures when they did. Cuddling was the best they could do, and that not often. Ir was difficult, but Amy relished every moment of it. Her Jeff was home.

For Jeff, the difficulty was simply staying in bed. He resented it, even as he slept twelve or fourteen hours a day. Amy tried to be patient, and after a while regarded Jeff's grumpiness with a sense of humor, teasing him about being Oscar the Grouch. When he laughed at that, she knew he would be all right. They began to play gin in the evening, and that helped - he always felt better when he won. Amy made sure that he usually did.

The day came when he felt capable of telling her about what had happened to him while he was dead.

---

"...and the last thing he said was, "Take care of Honey and the Jag, too."

Jeff was lying in his own bed, at home, and Amy was sitting on it next to him.

She laughed, her cheeks wet. "He looked good, didn't he? Healthy. You know, strong."

"He sure did. Why?"

"I saw him too, in a dream -"

"Oh, that's right."

"- and he looked good. The last time I saw him for real - well, you know."

"Yes."

She brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "What else did he say?"

Jeff thought. "I can't think of anything. We only had a few minutes. At least, that's what it seemed like." He smiled. "It was cool to meet him, though. He was taller than I thought he'd be." His brow wrinkled beside the eye patch. "Seems like there's something I was supposed to do, though. I just can't remember what."

After a moment, he shrugged. "I guess it'll come to me. Anyway, I feel pretty good today."

Amy smiled. "Okay. You just work on getting better. Want some lunch?"

He looked up at her hopefully. "Burger?"

She considered. "How's your stomach?" Jeff had had some nausea as an aftereffect of the anesthesia, and it still cropped up from time to time.

"Rumbling."

She considered. "Okay. A small burger. You want cheese?"

"Yes! And lettuce and tomatoes and pickles and jalapeno peppers and mustard! And a whole bunch of greasy onion rings!"

"Whoa, cowboy!" laughed Amy. "No peppers, and no rings. Those you get in a few more weeks, maybe. One step at a time."

"Never argue with an experienced nurse," he said with a smile. After a moment, he added, "A doctor told me that."

"He was right. Do you want homemade, or do you just want me to run out and bring you a Big Mac?"

"Make it a Whataburger?"

"Promise not to eat all of it?"

"Make it a Whataburger Jr., then. Fries?"

"Sure. A few. Just don't overdo it. You've only been back on solid food for a couple of weeks."

He lay back on the pillow. "Yes, Ma'am."

"That's better. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He watched her go appreciatively - her shorts were very tight on her delectable bottom.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

---

It wasn't long before Jeff was up and about, moving around easily. He still tired quickly, and they kept the wheelchair in the garage for outings where Jeff would have to walk a great deal; but they both knew that it wouldn't be needed long, even for that.

His eye had healed well; Jeff had opted to do without the prosthetic and keep the patch. Amy found it exciting, and she wasn't put off by the scars when he took it off; they were ugly, but Amy saw only the marks of his determination to come back to her. She loved them.

Jeff chose to retire on disability - he loved his work, but a one-eyed cop is at a distinct disadvantage on the street. Besides, he joked, now he'd scare the children.

They were now free to do what they liked. They still went to the nursing home a couple of days a week - Amy had continued to visit her elderly friends, even while Jeff was in the hospital, at least weekly. They were all excited to see Jeff back on his feet; they had followed his progress through Amy for months, and he graciously endured dozens of earnest inquiries about how he felt. And pirate jokes.

When Doctor Wine finally pronounced him fit for, as he put it, "intimate activity," the two of them went home from the hospital quivering with anticipation. They hadn't made love for the better part of a year, and they were hungry for it.

They had snuggled often, and once or twice Jeff had brought Amy to orgasm with his hand; but that made it hard on him - so to speak - and they had mostly chosen to wait. Tonight the waiting would be over; the kids were at their grandparents', and they had the big house to themselves.

Jeff smiled as Amy scrunched herself closer to him in the car. "I know what," he said.

"What?" she murmured, her cheek against his shoulder.

"How about a nice oil massage? I haven't given you one for ages. And you know how I like to see you all shiny..."

"Ooo... That sounds... Delicious," she said.

---

And it was. Jeff had not seen Amy naked for months; they had obscurely worried that it might not be good for him, and Jeff had found it frustrating anyway. He was amazed at his own excitement as she lay down on the towel he had spread on the master bathroom floor. "I never got this hard when I was sixteen," he said. He pulled off his briefs, and Amy's eyes widened as she looked up at him standing over her.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "I am in BIG trouble..."

He knelt beside her, and she settled onto her stomach as he poured the warm, scented oil onto the small of her back. He marveled at the pale perfection of her skin, as he always did. Pink and white, peaches and milk... He smoothed the oil over her bare, smooth back, and she sighed with contentment.

Jeff had grown very good at this over the years, and he kneaded Amy's muscles expertly - firmly but gently, working both relaxation and pleasure into her back and limbs. As he stroked and massaged her lovely legs, his cock began to pound a bit. He felt as hard as a flagpole.

"Don't wear yourself out, honey," Amy whispered, her cheek on the towel.

"I won't. Turn over," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

She turned over. Jeff gasped. It had been so long...

Amy lay before him, pale and bare. His eyes were drawn to her pink, plump pussy, as bare and bald as his palm - but then they wandered. Her heavy breasts sagged outward a bit more than they had when she was younger, but he found their softness exciting. Her belly was flat and smooth, her thighs round and soft... And slightly open...

He poured oil on her sweet bellybutton and she giggled. A moment later, his hands were all over her, smearing the slippery oil on her smooth skin.

She writhed a bit, sensuously. "That's not a massage," she breathed. He was kneading and fondling her soft breasts, squeezing her hard nipples between his fingers.

"It'll do..."

His voice held that low, breathy growl that excited her so. God, it's been so long, she thought...

No one else could make me feel this way. I was insane to even think it...

He began to both caress and massage her, working on her muscles as well as her skin. He alternated deep massage with sensuous stroking and fondling, and Amy grew dizzy at the sensations. She was relaxing and growing more excited at once - a languid and steamy feeling. She spread her thighs wider.

Jeff's oily hands touched her hairless pussy. She spread even wider, and lifted her knees a bit. He poured oil on her bare lips and began to rub it in, and she hissed and lifted her hips to meet him.

He watched, mesmerized, as the beautiful woman before him began to hump and grind her hips, thighs spread wide and pussy gaping. He fingered her slippery hole, so familiar and so sweet, and so long absent...

"Oh, God, Jeffie... Can I come?"

He smiled and rubbed her swollen clit. "Nope," he said. "You hold it. Don't come till I tell you."

He knew the game, one of Amy's favorites. He wouldn't allow her to come till she was pleading with him to let her, grimacing and hanging on desperately as she fought to hold back her orgasm... as he cruelly worked her gushing, grasping pussy and swollen, sensitive clit. He rubbed her bare button intensely, savoring her grunts and gasps. "Please..." she whimpered, gritting her teeth as he massaged below her clit, rubbing its hidden shaft. "Please, Jeffie... Pleeease let me come..."

"Just a little longer," he growled, sliding two fingers deep in her wet, twitching hole.

"Oh, GOD... Nnngh... Please..."

He dug deep in her wet pussy and lifted her up, pressing against her bare clit and shaking her. "You can come," he whispered, and Amy made a gagging sound and convulsed under his hands, jerking and quivering uncontrollably as her long-delayed orgasm shook her to her core.

"Y-yes, Jeffie, fuck me... Fuck me hard.... Oh, fuck me, Jeff, give me that big hard dick..."

"Just a little longer," he whispered.

He made her come twice more before he finally fucked her. He teased and massaged her wet, trembling opening till she rose to her orgasm, again and again. She shook and shuddered and humped her hips desperately as she pushed out her third climax - and just as she was beginning to come down from her peak, Jeff rolled over onto her and slid his cock all the way up her red, squeezing pussy.

She arched her back and then instantly reversed the motion, rolling her hips upward to take his dick deeper. Then she gasped and began to sit up. "Oh, no," she breathed, pushing back on his shoulder. He hesitated, confused, then got it and let her push him back. "You're not doing the work," she said as she lifted one lovely leg to straddle him. "You just relax and enjoy the show."

"Mmm. Yes, Ma'am," said Jeff, with a grin. He lay back and watched as his beautiful wife crouched over his cock and guided it into her wet, bald pussy, smiling at him as she did so.

"Ooo," she squeaked as it slid home. "Ooo, Jeffie... You're so -"

"Big," they said together. She laughed, which felt indescribable on his bare dick. He hadn't been inside her for so long...

Amy began to rock back and forth, gently, sliding her slippery tube up and down on his hard shaft and sensitive dickhead. It was exquisite.

Normally Amy would make it last for him, stretch it out, slow him down; but this time, she worked her pussy muscles on his cock and shook her beautiful, heavy breasts at him and whispered the naughty things that she knew would make him shoot - "Ooo, Jeffie, I'm yours... I belong to you... I'll do anything for you... Shoot in my pussy, love..."

As he did, she embraced him and worked her gushing hole on his spurting cock. Jeff wanted it to last, but the stimulation - and his woman's love - were so intense and deep,..

He shuddered and unloaded his balls for the first time in months. It felt like his brains were shooting into her pussy; maybe they were, for a moment anyway. He jerked and strained to pump his cock as deep inside her as he could, and just grunted and gasped as he shot her full. Amy clung to him and worked her pussy on his cock like he was the last man on Earth.

Afterward, they lay on the bathroom floor together and gasped and giggled. "That was so good," said Amy. "And it's been so long..."

"Yeah," said Jeff. He smiled, then laid a hand on his chest. "Uh-oh."

"What?" asked Amy, her mouth open. She looked more suspicious than alarmed.

"Still beating. Didn't work, evil woman. You're stuck with me."

She laughed and fell into his arms. "God, I love you. Do me again tonight, in the steam room."

"You got it, lady." He squeezed her.

"How do you feel, really?" she asked, her mouth an inch from his.

"Fine, baby. Really. Out of breath, chest pounding, all that, just like I should be. No pain, no problems."

"Okay." She kissed his eye patch. "Do I look okay, with just one eye?"

He considered, his lips pursed critically. "Well, I do kind of miss the 3-D effect when you shake your tits in my face, but otherwise it's pretty much the same."

She giggled, then her face lit up. "Oh, Jeffie! I just thought! Now we can play Pirate and Kidnapped Heiress. You can tie me up and rape me silly!"

"Me and my crew," he growled. "You'll be blindfolded, Your Highness. You won't know WHO'S fucking you..."

"Mmm! I can't wait!" she squealed. "Ooo, where'll we do it?"

"Tied to the trees by the pool?"

"Sure! But... Ooh, ooh, I know! In the attic!"

"The attic?"

"Sure! It's like under the deck of a ship, with the exposed beams!"

Jeff was staring at the ceiling. "The attic..."

"What? What is it?"

---

Fifteen minutes later, they were up in the dusty space beneath the roof. It was enormous, extending the width of the house, with dim and hazy light coming in through a few dormer windows. Almost two hundred years of family history, and family junk, was stored here in ranks and rows and neatly organized quadrants - clothes here, furniture there, boxes and trunks over there. "It's like a different world up here," said Jeff. "Cross between a museum and a junkyard."

They looked around. Jeff was barefoot, in jeans and without a shirt; the scars on his chest were still pink and angry, but he looked fit. Amy was wearing a T-shirt and panties, her usual casual garb. "Where do we start?" she asked.

"Beats me. Maybe over there, where all those boxes are. I don't even have any idea what we're looking for."

"I guess it'll be easy to find."

"That's what I got from him. He didn't say so, but he did say, 'Just look.'"

They began to move toward the stacks of boxes, looking around as they walked, peering into corners and behind furniture. The attic contained a dizzying assortment of objects; lamps, chairs, toys, even an enormous overstuffed sofa piled high with boxes and bags.

They opened boxes and shuffled through old pictures and papers and books for more than an hour, finding nothing of interest except to geneaologists. Nothing of much historical value, either; a rusty old Confederate sword, a rustier cap-and-ball revolver, even a massive oak dining table behind the stacks of boxes and trunks. The table bore a single object, a large, white cardboard box. Jeff looked at the table and scratched his head. "What'd they do, build the attic around this thing? How did they get it up here?"

"Maybe it comes apart. Look, Jeff," said Amy. "What's that? Is that Japanese?"

He looked. The box on the table was, indeed, hand marked with Japanese characters. "It says 'Family records and heirlooms.'" He looked closer. "And it's in my mother's handwriting," he added, confused. She always made that funny little mark in the character for "Family" kind of sideways like that... Never mind. She wrote that, anyway." He set about opening the lid.