Tapicerías Apasionadas 4

Tapicerías Apasionadas: The Fourth Tapestry

=Chapter One: Echoes from Home=

by Oliverio

Quin smiled at the little girl, up early like he was on this brisk Sunday morning and playing jacks on the stoop of the apartment building. Quin paused, shifting the bag off groceries he'd just purchased to his left arm, so he could bend down and ruffle her blonde hair and give her a conspiratorial wink. She smiled mischievously but was not to be distracted from her game. Quin smiled inwardly and then bound up the stairs. He wanted to get back before Cyntia woke, so he could treat her to breakfast.

Opening the door, his eye was caught by a crisp white envelope, propped up on the small table by the door. More exactly, his eye was caught by the hand writing, unmistakeable in its light strokes and tight curves, addressed to the fake name he'd suggested. It was a wave of relief that she'd written him but his guts pinched at what she might have written. Quin put down the bag of bread and cheeses, and sat down on the nearby steps, plucking the letter of the table. He slipped his finger between the folds and popped open the letter.

He read,

Dear Quin,

I don't think I can tell you how it felt to get the letter from you and to know you are alive. The Marines have been looking all over for you - and, Quin, I fear what Ramirez will have done to you if the y find you. Mom and Dad are worried to death, as you'd expect. To be honest, so am I. They have come by the house asking questions.

You didn't explain what happened that night with Ramirez' son - and that's just like you, protecting your little sister. That didn't stop me from asking around (which you must have known I would - since that's just like me, isn't it?). No one knows much, but I know at least that he was a cur of a man and that even so you would not have fought him without being provoked.

But I miss you Quin, and with the way things are, I wonder if you'll ever be able to come home! With you just back from a tour of duty, Mom especially thought you were home safe and sound. With all this trouble, I just don't know. Please be careful Quin.

With love, Maria

Quin closed his eyes and let out a slow breath as he folded up the letter. His sister, his parents, friends - he hadn't thought of them that night with Cyntia and Ramirez. He'd been so intent on righting a wrong and helping Cyntia that he hadn't thought of them.

Tucking the letter into his shirt pocket, he glanced upwards where Cyntia was likely still sleeping, and, despite his concerns, he smiled slightly. Honestly, he thought to himself, even if he'd sat and thought long and hard before acting that night (if there'd been time), would he have done anything differently? He knew in his heart that saving Cyntia was something he needed to do, and couldn't imagine a world where he hadn't, no matter the cost.

But the weight of responsibility for the consequences on his family weighed on him. If only he hadn't killed Ramirez. Maybe if he'd tried to talk the man out of ... He sighed heavily as he stood, picking up his bag. He'd had to make choices like that in combat, and had to live with the consequences - but those consequences had never affected his parents or Maria before. He didn't rue the choice he'd made at all - in his heart, he knew it was the right one, and truly he loved Cyntia - but that didn't mean he didn't think he could have done better.

He went up the stairs, thinking what he'd write next to Maria and wondering if he would ever see her or his parents again ...

=Chapter Two=

By Cyntia

Cyntia lay asleep in their crumpled bed, her face buried in the pillow. Her long dark hair was strewn out every which way, covering her face but leaving a bit of neck exposed to the cool morning air. She woke slowly, awareness nothing but a dense fog, and yet reaching out for Quin, only to feel bare chilly sheets. It took a few moments for his absence to register in her mind. Lifting her rustled head off the pillow, she squinted towards the vibrant sun streaming in the window and heard songbirds outside singing. Her heart suddenly filled with intensity so achingly real she could barely stand it. She rose to look curiously about their small apartment, unsure where he would have gone and thinking perhaps he had left a note. Instead of feeling insecure about it, like she might have in the past, she smiled inwardly, knowing they were intact, they were strong together. Having no doubt was something amazingly new.

While she was making coffee, she heard him come in the front door. Turning to greet him with a smile, she noticed a shadow on his face and it stopped her words. A sharp intake of breath came with the sensation that all was not right. She saw Quin cover up the moment by snapping back to his usual loving self. Leaning against the countertop, she let his kiss braise her cheek and waited for his eyes to come her way. He didn’t look at her, and then she knew it was significant, whatever was eating at him. Perhaps the certainty was premature.

Her heart sank, wondering what it meant. Cyntia frowned, gripping her mug of coffee between them and peering over the brim at him so that he could not feel her watchfulness. She knew enough to wait, to let him open up of his own accord. Yet, if he could not tell her, that was a problem. Cyntia walked slowly out of the kitchen, her bare feet tenderly padding over the floorboards. The floorboards’ creaking was almost too much noise; it reminded her of the unspoken. The possibilities began racing through her mind and she knew if she allowed that to continue she was going to make a towering monumental peak out of some seemingly simple and easy to resolve concern. Disciplining her mind was not always easy, but this morning she would have to. Timing, after all, was everything.

Cyntia was a strong willed woman and in the past it had often gotten her in trouble for doing all the driving. In this new life, she had allowed Quin to take the reigns often enough that it was just beginning to feel natural. What would happen if this time, instead of forcing action from someone, she actually allowed him to decide when and where and how to speak? The novel concept was something she had never considered. She thought she had been righteous in speaking up, as her folks had always taught her. If anyone else had called her controlling in any way, she would have laughed it off as inane sourness or envy for her self-assuredness. It took much more courage to examine herself through someone else’s eyes, she was discovering, and see honestly where she might have been wrong. Set the defensiveness aside, she told herself with a determination that lacked her typical stubbornness. Learn from this and strive for better balance.

Cyntia knelt before the open window, her elbows propped up and chin perched on her hands. She listened to the songbirds, singing on in spite of the world shifting and ever changing below their swoops and hops. A song from her past broke the surface in her consciousness and she began humming the chorus as the music and wisdom of the songbirds lifted her with gently flapping wings:

And the songbirds keep singing, Like they know the score, And I love you, I love you, I love you, Like never before.

Cyntia gently smiled with an open heart at the omniscient birds and waited for her love to find his voice to speak.

=Chapter Three=

By Oliverio

A funny thing had happened to Quin on the climb up the stairs to the small apartment that he and Cyntia called home. He had begun the climb feeling the weight of having left his family behind, and in particular missing his little sister. In one flash of anger and steel, he had cut himself off from his family, a family that needed him and cared for him. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, but life was more complicated than that.

As he had climbed, however, he’d thought more about the choice he’d made, more about Cyntia, this woman he now loved. He really couldn’t imagine life without her now, so natural was their fit. Her smile – and how Quin knew and cherished the many varieties of these that Cyntia could offer up – made him beam. Thinking back to that night in Kul Tiras, he couldn’t imagine doing anything but helping her …

As Quin climbed the final flight, his thoughts turned to Cyntia – not to how he felt about her, but how she must feel. That night, the suddenness of it and the sea change it had made in his life – how was it affecting her? His face went grim at this thought. Had he, in his anger, forced her onto a course she never would have charted herself? As he unlocked the door, a sense of doubt, with a dose of guilt, clouded his face.

Seeing Cyntia, he smiled, tucking away these feelings. He was afraid to raise the subject and moved to her, brushing her cheek with a kiss. He put the groceries on the table, eager to guide his mind to less dangerous topics. He poured himself a cup of coffee and plopped down in a chair, offering up small talk about the weather.

Cyntia paused, and, during a pause, slipped from the room. Quin drank his coffee slowly, knowing that he could not keep his questions from Cyntia. Now the question was how to ask these questions. With a swallow or two left in the mug, Quin got up and moved out to where Cyntia was. She was beautiful kneeling there, looking out the window, humming to herself. He finished the coffee in one motion and sat behind her, leaning in and kissing her bare neck.

She smiled but said nothing. Quin cleared his throat, and began, “Cyn, I’ve been wondering; are you happy here?” He paused and then added, “… Here with me, I mean.” He stopped, seeing a small smile form on Cyntia’s face, almost as if she were glad for the question. He waited for an answer.

=Chapter Four=

By Cyntia

She felt his tender lips on her neck and it both excited and calmed her. She could feel the heat of his body, so near, as always… letting his warmth enter the center of her. Closing her eyes, Cyntia dropped her head to the side to give him more neck to explore. He wasn’t in exploring mood, she realized, as his gentle voice wavered a bit and then faded. She turned to see him peering into her, expectantly and searchingly. She smiled, glad he was seeking her out, knowing that the fact he wanted to talk about whatever it was meant he wanted resolution.

“Here with you? Happy? Oh, Quin….” She looked at his face, unsure for once, and was overwhelmed with a rush of love for him. She brushed a bit of his hair from his brow with fingertips, unable to not reach out for him. “How could I not be happy here with you? You mean more to me -- than anything I know.” Her eyes searched his face for the deeper thoughts. The love she felt for him bubbled out of her now, “Quin, you see me like no other. You sense my thoughts before they’ve even formed. You know what I like before I do!” At this she paused, feeling his hand caressing her thigh without even meaning to. Always with him, it would be so easy to push him to the floor and let their bodies do the talking. As if in proof of her declaration, he eased his hand off her thigh so she could concentrate on the words and emotions. He knew no amount of body language was going to get the worry out of her eyes or his. “See? You read me like a book!” He smiled at her, as she continued, “I love our life together and would settle for nothing less!” These last two words had an impact on him. He knew she’d always felt complete happiness was elusive before him and that she just was too complex to be satisfied in an ordinary world. All the time he had known her, she was enjoying life without restraint. It was hard to imagine what she insisted was true, that prior, she had often settled.

Cyntia saw his face register and absorb her speech of impassioned truth. She could tell he did not disagree, but there was more to be said. She was sensing this was not so much about her, but more about him. He had a way of posing questions to her, when his questions were more internal. She understood then, that she needed to reflect his own question back at him. “Quin, love… are you happy here?” Cyntia asked quietly and knew that whatever his answer was, she cared only about his comfort.

Whatever it was he needed of her, she would give it, freely and without remorse. It struck her that this unquestionable desire to place his needs first, and his willingness to do the same for her, was rare and special. And if they were going to make it for the long haul, they would have to bring this up often and renew it. Armed with knowing in her heart that he felt the same, she knew whatever his answer, they would work it out. This was the reason she could sit before him, bathed in the sunlight from the window and appear to glow with her own sunshine from within. She saw in his face, his pure love for her, and felt if ever there were a man anywhere to be called beautiful, it was Quin… for how bare he allowed himself to be to her. He gave of himself daily so freely, so willingly, so uncensored -- and expected nothing in return. As tears of gratitude welled up in her eyes, she vowed to allow herself to give even more to him, so he too could feel half as cherished as she did.

=Chapter Five=

By Oliverio

Her answer, in its intensity and purity, stopped him. He knew Cyntia loved him, and he loved her back as deeply and completely, but he wasn’t the type to put those feelings into words. Hearing the words out loud brought him to a standstill. Lost in the delicious, almost overwhelming, words of love, Quin was startled to see Cyn looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for an answer … An answer! Cyn had asked him if he was happy here.

The answer was utterly and unequivocally yes but … his tongue was tied, as if the muscles weren’t sure how to form those words. Quin didn’t say things; he did things. He was the type who solved problems, fixed things … Looking across at Cyn’s wide open eyes, the realization surged through him that he was the type of guy who needed and wanted this woman, this particular woman, to know just how happy he was.

He got up and moved around the table and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. Kissing her face, her neck, he whispered urgently to her, “Cyn, I wouldn’t be happy anywhere else. I love you, I love you …” He nuzzled her, his eyes closed, knowing this was right for him.

This was new for Quin, like trying a delicious food for the first time. Stroking Cyntia’s hair, he realized there was more he needed to say. He wasn’t used to sharing a burden, but here, in their apartment, he understood that it was different with Cyn. Quietly, he told her about the letter from Maria, his missing his family, and his feeling of having let them down. He knew it wouldn’t be easy for her to hear but also that she would rather know than not. When he finished, he looked into her eyes, eager to hear what she had to say – and still worried a bit that he was burdening her.

=Chapter Six=

By Cyntia

Quin's touch had always reached straight to the very center of her, but she was unprepared for the impact his words would have. Somewhere along the line, Cyntia had accepted the fact her lover was more comfortable speaking through his deeds and actions (or his music), rather than words. She saw his love for her in everyday existence and it was truly enough. Yet, hearing him overflow like this, his voice husky and sincere - it was as though a new layer of him had been revealed, a very vulnerable and tender one. She knew this did not come natural to him, and the effort it took for him to go outside his comfort zone spoke so much more than anything.

She closed her eyes as his lips touched her skin and let his words float into her soul. Then he shocked her even further by holding open his worries and pain to her finally. To see him like this from all angles, not just what he wanted her to see, unprotected -- it gave her a real picture of him. In the past with other men, this had been a stage where the dividing factor came in and the whole picture was not as appealing as the censored one. Here with him now, seeing his vulnerable side even further enhanced her love for him. More so now than ever, Cyntia wanted to make this man's world less scary, more centered and a home to feel at ease in. She vowed with a fierceness stronger than anything she had ever felt before to do everything in her power always, to ensure he felt complete acceptance and support.

And she said now to him, "Quin, love - tell me what I can do to help you feel better?" She took his face between her palms so he had to see her earnest eyes boring straight to where it most mattered. "You are not alone anymore; sharing means even the hard stuff. Together we face this, right? We'll do whatever needs to be done, and I will not leave your side to let you suffer alone. Don't you know yet, easing your life is no burden - it's what brings me the most joy?"