Always - Iris Johansen [64]
“A camellia,” he finished for her. “Or a princess, or—” He broke off to kiss her with an exuberance that flooded her with happiness. He lifted his head. “But you are my love and the mother of my child and the center of my particular universe. Will you accept that, acushla?”
“Oh, yes, I’ll accept that.” She nestled her head against his shoulder. “Gladly.”
He picked her up and sat down on the marble bench, cradling her in his arms. “I think we’ll dispense with the karate lessons until after the baby is born. I think you’re being put through enough daily turmoil without that.” He placed one hand gently on her abdomen. “I was worried about you after that mess at the airport this morning.”
“You shouldn’t have been. The baby evidently thrives on excitement. He’s been very active this afternoon.”
“Really?” His other hand joined the first, splaying out gently, searchingly. After a moment his eyes flew to meet her own. “I’m not jealous, you know,” he said. “I want you to realize that. I couldn’t be. I already love our child very much.”
“I know,” she said softly, and felt an aching tenderness tighten her throat. “It wasn’t true what Martin said, Clancy. Perhaps it might have been in Martin’s case because I never knew what love was all about then. I’ve been thinking about that while I sat here waiting for you.” Her arms tightened around him. “There are all kinds of love in the world. Mother for child, friend for friend, lover for lover. All separate but equal.” Her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. “Then, sometimes, if we’re very lucky, we’re given a love that’s very special and combines all of those in one. That’s what I feel for you, Clancy. It doesn’t mean that I loved Tommy or will love our child more or less than I do you. There’s no way of comparing love, because it’s all joy.” She was silent for a moment, searching for words. “Remember that gypsy saying Kira told us about? To share joy is to share the soul. Well, to share love does the same thing, Clancy. It goes into every part of our minds and hearts and binds us together so that there are no shadings, no comparisons, nothing but one shining entity.” She closed her eyes and her voice was a mere breath of sound. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Wonderful,” he echoed. He swallowed and then laughed huskily. “Lord, I feel like I want to shout or cry or …” He shook his head. “I don’t know … something. I didn’t think this could happen to me. I thought I’d missed the boat somewhere along the way. It took such a long time coming.” His lips pressed gently against her temple. “But now I’ve got it all. After half a lifetime of waiting, it’s really here.”
“We’ve got it all,” she corrected softly. “And who knows, if it had happened earlier, we may not have been ready for it. Maybe we needed to grow to this point so that we could fully appreciate what we have. I know I probably did.” Her eyes opened to gaze at him with love. “You’ve had such a rough day. Do you want to go inside and go to bed?”
He shook his head. “I don’t feel tired. I feel young and strong and so damn happy that I want to wave banners and send up flares. I couldn’t sleep if I tried. I just want to sit here and hold you.” His big hands moved gently on the swell of her stomach. “And maybe feel our child move beneath my hands. Could we do that?”
The tears were brimming, but Lisa refused to let them fall. This was not a night for tears, not even tears of joy. “Oh, yes, love, we can do that.”
She closed her eyes again and relaxed against his warm strength. It was quiet and fragrant here in the garden, and they were surrounded by peace and delight and love. So much love. Now was the time of serenity and anticipation. There was really no need to do anything at all but listen to the sweet song of the nightingale in the oleander tree and wait for the stir of new life to come.