I gripped my hands around Rune’s wrists as he struggled to finish. My eyes squeezed shut, expelling the remaining tears from my eyes. “Don’t,” I hushed out, and lifted Rune’s wrist to kiss his racing pulse. Resting it on my chest, I added, “It’s okay, baby.” I inhaled, and a watery smile spread on my lips. The scent of wood filled my nostrils. If I closed my eyes tightly enough, it felt as though I could hear the echo of all the musicians who had stepped onto this wooden stage, the master musicians who had graced this hall with their passion and genius.
“We’re here now,” I finished, and stepped back from Rune. Opening my eyes, I blinked in the view of the auditorium from my heightened position. I imagined it full of people, all dressed for a concert. Men and women who love to feel the music in their hearts. I smiled, seeing the picture so vibrantly in my mind.
When I turned back to the boy who had arranged this moment for me, I was speechless. I had no words to accurately express what this gesture had done to my soul. The gift Rune had given me so purely and sweetly … my biggest dream come true.
So I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
Instead, I released his wrists and walked to the solitary seat that awaited me. I ran my hand over the black leather, feeling the texture under my fingertips. I walked to the cello, the instrument that had always felt like an extension of my body. An instrument that filled me with a joy that one can never explain until it is truly experienced. A joy that is all-encompassing and carries with it a higher form of peace, of tranquility, of serenity; a delicate love like no other.
Unbuttoning my coat, I slipped it off my arms, only for two familiar hands to lift it, then skirt gently over my skin. I glanced back at Rune, who silently left a kiss on my bare shoulder, then left the stage.
I didn’t see where he sat, for as he left the stage, the spotlight from directly above the seat moved from a dim glow to a potent shine. The house lights were brought down. I stared at the brightly illuminated chair with a heady mix of nervousness and excitement.
One foot stepped forward, the heels from my shoes causing an echo to rebound off the walls. The sound shook my bones, setting ablaze my weakening muscles, rejuvenating them with life.
Bending down, I lifted the cello and felt its neck in my grasp. I held the bow in my right hand, its slender wood fitting perfectly into my fingers.
I lowered myself to the chair, tipping the cello to move the spike to my perfect height. Righting the cello, the most beautiful cello I had ever seen, I closed my eyes and brought my hands to the strings, plucking each one to check it was in tune.
Of course, it was pitch-perfect.
I shuffled to the edge of the seat, planting my feet down on the wooden floor until I felt ready and primed.
Then I allowed myself to look up. I tilted my chin to the spotlight as if it were the sun. Inhaling a deep breath, I closed my eyes, then connected my bow to the string.
And I played.
The first notes of the Bach Prelude flowed from my bow to the string and out to the hall, rushing forth to fill the large room with the heavenly sounds. I swayed as the music took me in its embrace, pouring from me, exposing my soul for everyone to hear.
And in my head the hall was packed. Every seat was occupied as aficionados listened to me play. Listened to music that demanded to be heard. Played such melodies that not a dry eye could be found in the house. Exuded such passion that all hearts would be filled and spirits would be touched.
I smiled under the heat of the light, which was warming my muscles and extinguishing their pain. The piece drew to a close. Then I struck up another. I played and I played until so much time had passed that I could feel my fingers beginning ache.
I lifted the bow, a gaping silence now shrouding the hall. I let a tear fall as I thought of what to play next. What I knew I would play next. What I must play next.
The one piece of music that I dreamed I would play on this prestigious stage. The one piece that spoke to my soul like no other. The one piece that would have a presence here long after I was gone. The one I would play as a farewell to my passion. After hearing its perfect echo in this magnificent hall, I would not, could not, play it ever again. There would be no more cello for me.
This had to be where I left this part of my heart. This would be where I said goodbye to the passion that had kept me strong, that had been my savior in the times I grew lost and alone.
This would be where the notes were left to dance in the air for eternity.
I felt a tremble in my hands as I paused before I began. I felt the tears flowing thick and fast, but they weren’t in sadness. They were for two fast friends—the music and the life that created it—telling one another that they had to part, but that one day, someday, they would be together again.
Counting myself in, I placed the bow on the string and let “The Swan” from Carnival of the Animals begin. As my now-steady hands began to create the music I adored so much, I felt a lump fill my throat. Each note was a whispered prayer, and each crescendo was a loudly sung hymn, to the God that gave me this gift. Gave me the gift of playing music, of feeling it in my soul.
And these notes were my grateful thanks to the instrument for allowing me to play its glory with such grace.
Allowing me to love it so much that it became a part of who I was—the very fabric of my being.
And finally, as the delicate bars of the piece flowed so softly into the room, they signaled my eternal gratitude to the boy sitting silently in the dark. The boy as gifted at photography as I was at music. He was my heart. The heart freely given to me as a child. The heart that made up one half of my own. The boy who, though breaking inside, loved me so deeply that he gave me this farewell. Gave me, in the present, the dream that my future never could.
My soul mate who captured moments.
My hand shook as the final note rang out, my tears splashing to the wood. I held my hand in the air, the end of the piece suspended until the final echo of its whispered top note drifted to the heavens to take its place among the stars.
I paused, letting the farewell sink in.
Then as quietly as possible, I stood. And smiling, I pictured the audience and their applause. I bowed my head and lowered the cello to the floor of the stage, laying the bow on top just as it had been found.
I tipped my head back into the tunnel of light from above one last time, then stepped into the shadow. My heels created a dull drum beat as I left the stage. When I reached the bottom step, the house lights came on, ushering away the remnants of the dream.
I took in a deep breath as I ranged my gaze over the empty red chairs, then cast a glance back to the cello still positioned exactly as it was on the stage, waiting patiently for the next young musician to be blessed with its grace.
It was done.
Rune slowly rose to his feet. My stomach lurched as I saw his cheeks reddened by emotion. But my heart skipped a much-needed beat when I saw the expression on his handsome face.
He understood me. He understood my truth.
He understood it was the final time I would play. And I could see, with crystal clarity, the mixture of sorrow and pride set in his eyes.
When he reached me, Rune didn’t touch the tear stains on my cheeks, as I left his untouched. Closing his eyes, Rune took my mouth in a kiss. And in this kiss I felt his outpouring of love. I felt a love, that at seventeen, I was blessed to have received.
A love that knew no boundaries.
The kind of love that inspires music that lasts through the ages.
A love that should be felt and meant and treasured.
When Rune pulled back and stared into my eyes, I knew that this kiss would be handwritten on a pink paper heart with more devotion than any of those that had gone before.
Kiss eight hundred and nineteen was the kiss that changed it all. The kiss that proved that a long-haired brooding boy from Norway and a quirky girl from the Deep South could find a love to rival the greats.
It showed that love was s
imply the tenacity to make sure that the other half of your heart knew he, or she, was adored in every way. In every minute of every day. That love was tenderness in its purest form.
Rune inhaled deeply, then whispered, “I have no words right now … in either of my languages.”
I offered a weak smile in return. Because I didn’t either.
This silence was perfection. It was far better than words.
Taking Rune’s hand, I guided him up the aisle and out of the foyer. The cold blast of the New York February wind was a welcome relief from the heat of the building within. Our limousine was waiting at the curb; Rune must have called the driver.
We slipped into the back seat. The driver pulled out into the traffic and Rune pulled me to his side. I fell willingly, breathing in the fresh scent of him on his blazer. With each turn the driver took, my heart rate increased. When we arrived at the hotel, I took Rune’s hand and walked inside.
Not a single word had been uttered on the drive here, not a single sound made as the elevator reached the top floor. The sound of the card opening the electronic lock sounded like thunder in the hushed hallway. I opened the door, my footsteps clicking on the wooden floor, and stepped through into the living room.
Without stopping, I walked to the doorway of the bedroom, only glancing back to make sure Rune followed. He stood at the doorway, watching me leave.
Our gazes crashed, and needing him more than air, I slowly lifted my hand. I wanted him. I needed him.
I had to love him.
I watched Rune pull in a deep breath, then step toward me. He walked carefully to where I waited. He slid his hand into mine, his touch sending flares of light and love through my body.
Rune’s eyes were dark, almost black, his dilated pupils blotting out the blue. His need was as strong as mine, his love proven and his trust so complete.
A calm flooded through me like a river. I let it in, and led Rune into the bedroom and closed the door. The atmosphere thickened around us. Rune’s intense, assessing eyes watched my every move.
Knowing I had his unwavering attention, I released his hand and stepped back. Lifting my trembling fingers, I began unfastening the large buttons of my coat, our locked gazes never wavering as the coat opened and I slowly let it drop to the floor.
Rune’s jaw tensed as he watched, his fingers opening and closing at his sides.
I slipped off my shoes, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Taking a fortifying breath, I stepped across the carpet and over to where Rune stood, waiting. When I stopped before him, I lifted my eyes, lids heavy with the onslaught of feelings within me.
Rune’s broad chest rose and fell, the tight white t-shirt under his blazer showcasing his toned chest. Feeling a flush coat my cheeks, I gently laid my palms over his chest. Rune stilled as my warm hands touched him. Then, keeping my eyes locked on his, I slid my hands to his shoulders, freeing him from his blazer. The jacket fell to the floor at his feet.
I breathed in three times, fighting to control the nerves suddenly racing through me. Rune didn’t move. He remained completely still, letting me explore; I ran my hand down over his stomach, over to his arm, and took his hand with my own. I lifted our clasped hands to my mouth, and in a move so familiar to us both, I kissed our intertwined fingers.
“This is how they should always be,” I whispered, gazing at our woven fingers.
Rune swallowed and nodded his head in silent agreement.
My feet stepped back, and back again. I led us toward the bed. The comforter was pulled back, turned down by the maid service. And the closer I got to this bed, the more my nerves settled and a peace set within me. Because this was right. Nothing, no one, could tell me this was wrong.
Pausing before the edge of the bed, I released our hands. Driven by desire, I took hold of the hem of Rune’s shirt and slowly brought it over his head. Helping me, Rune threw the t-shirt to the floor, leaving him standing with his torso bare.
Rune slept like this every night, but there was something about the charged static in the atmosphere and the way he’d made me feel with tonight’s surprise that made this different.
It was different.
It was poignant.
But it was us.
Lifting my hands, I pressed my palms to his skin and ran my fingertips over the peaks and valleys of his abdominals. Rune’s skin bumped in my wake, his labored breath hissing through his slightly parted lips.
As my fingers explored his broad chest, I leaned forward and pressed my lips over his heart. It was racing like a hummingbird’s wings.
“You’re perfect, Rune Kristiansen,” I whispered.
Rune’s fingers rose to thread through my hair. He guided my head up. I kept my eyes lowered until the final second, when I finally looked up and met his crystal-blue gaze. His eyes were glistening.
Rune’s full lips opened and he whispered, “Jeg elsker deg.”
He loved me.
I nodded to show that I’d heard him. But my voice had been stolen by the moment. By the preciousness of his touch. I stepped back, Rune’s eyes tracking my every move.
I wanted them to.
Lifting my hand to the strap on my shoulder, I steeled my nerves and dropped it down my arm. Rune’s breathing stuttered as I freed the other strap, the silk dress pooling at my feet. I forced my arms down by my side, most of my body revealed to the boy I loved beyond anything else in the world.
I was bared, showing the scars I’d obtained over the course of two years. Showing all of me—the girl he’d always known, and the battle scars from my unwavering fight.
Rune’s gaze dropped to run over me. But there was no disgust in his eyes. I saw only the purity of his love shining through. I saw only want and need, and above all … his whole heart exposed.
Just for my eyes.
As always.
Rune edged closer and closer, until his warm chest pressed against mine. With a feather-light touch, he brushed my hair behind my ear, and then drifted his fingertips down my bare neck and on to my side.
My eyes fluttered at the sensation. Shivers ran down my spine. The scent of Rune’s minty breath filled my nose as he leaned forward and dragged his soft lips along my neck, peppering delicate kisses on my exposed skin.
I held on to his strong shoulders, anchoring myself to the ground. “Poppymin,” Rune whispered hoarsely as his mouth passed by my ear.
Inhaling deeply, I whispered, “Make love to me, Rune.”
Rune was still for a moment, then, shifting until his face hovered above mine, he briefly caught my eyes before laying his lips against my own. This kiss was as sweet as this night, as soft as his touch. This kiss was different, it was the promise of what lay ahead, Rune’s vow to be gentle … his vow to love me just as I loved him.
Rune’s strong hands lay on the nape of my neck as his mouth worked slowly against mine. Then, when I was breathless, his hands dropped to my waist and carefully lifted me onto the bed.
My back hit the soft mattress and I watched from the center of the bed as Rune shed the remainder of his clothes, never taking his eyes off mine as he crawled on the bed to lie beside me.
The intensity on Rune’s handsome face melted me, causing my heart to thud in a staccato rhythm. Rolling on my side to face him, I ran my fingers down his cheek and whispered, “I love you too.”
Rune’s eyes closed as if he needed to hear those words more than his next breath. He moved above me, his mouth taking mine. My hands ran over his strong back and up through his long hair. Rune’s hands ran down my side, then freed me of the remainder of my clothes and dropped them on the floor to join the rest.
I was breathless as Rune towered over me. Breathless as he met my eyes and asked, “Are you sure, Poppymin?”
Unable to contain my smile, I replied, “More than I have been about anything in my life.”
My eyes fluttered closed as Rune kissed me again, as his hands explored my body—all of the once-familiar parts. And I did the same. With every to
uch and every kiss, my nerves fell away, until we were Poppy and Rune—there was no beginning to us and no end.
The air became heavy and warm the more we kissed and explored, until finally, Rune shifted above me. Not once breaking eye contact, he took me as his again.
My body filled with life and light as he made us one. My heart filled with such love that I feared it would not contain all the happiness flooding in.
I held him as we fell back to earth, holding him tightly in my arms. Rune’s head lay in the crook of my neck, his skin glistening and warm.
I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to break away from this moment. This perfect moment. Eventually, Rune lifted his head. Seeing the vulnerable expression on his face, I kissed him gently. As gently as he had taken me. As gently as he handled my fragile heart.
His arms cradled my head, keeping me safe. When I broke from the kiss, I met his loving gaze and whispered, “Kiss number eight hundred and twenty. With my Rune, on the most amazing day of my life. After we made love … My heart almost burst.”
Rune’s breath hitched in his throat. With a final brief kiss, he rolled beside me and wrapped me in his arms.
My eyes closed and I drifted off into a light sleep. So light that I felt Rune kiss me on my head then shift from the bed. As the door to the bedroom closed, I blinked in the dark room, catching the sound of the door to the terrace slipping open.
Pushing the comforter aside, I put on the robe that was hanging on the back of the door and the slippers that lay neatly on the floor. As I walked through the room, I smiled, still smelling the scent of Rune on my skin.
I entered the living room, heading in the direction of the door to outside, but immediately stopped in my tracks. Because through the wide window I could see Rune on the ground, sitting on his knees. Falling apart.
It felt as if my heart physically ripped in two as I watched him, out in the cold night air, clothed in only his jeans. Tears streamed from his eyes as his back shook with body-shuddering pain.
Tears blurred my vision as I stared at him. My Rune. So broken and alone, as he sat in the lightly falling snow.