Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(41)

There was a moment where she looked back and forth between her husband and her brother, wondering at the balance of power. Then Bruce rose and left the table, and after a moment Hannah followed.

“Hannah, where are you going?” asked Mako.

But then he went back to his drunken rambling as she left the table and walked outside. She found Bruce bending before the dying fire. He used the poker to bring the embers up, then threw another log on. The flames leapt back to life.

“That’s very manly,” she told him. “If we were cave people, I’d have to reward you for keeping us alive through the night with your mad fire skills.”

“Are you,” he said, rising and pulling her close, “a little tipsy?” He buried his face in her neck and she started to laugh, ripples of pleasure, of desire moving through her.

“What if I am?” she said.

She’d surreptitiously checked the baby monitor app earlier and saw Gigi sleeping peacefully. She felt light and free. She didn’t want to think about anything else. Wasn’t that her biggest problem? She was always thinking.

“It’s good,” he whispered into her ear. “I am, too.”

His lips found hers, and she ran her fingers through the silk of his hair. She was hot for her husband; she didn’t know many women who were, especially after the babies started to come. For a lot of her friends, a deep-seated anger, a resentment set in about how much life had changed for them, and how little it had changed for their husbands. Hannah didn’t feel like that. She loved him for taking care of them, for giving her the space to be fully present for Gigi.

“I saw a gazebo, down that path back there,” he whispered. “Follow me.”

He took her hand and tugged.

Was it rude? She glanced inside the big windows where Mako was still prattling on, and Cricket was adoring, and Joshua hadn’t returned to the table.

“You’re not on duty here,” Bruce said. “You don’t have to attend to them.”

That was true. And, as she’d worried, Cricket was so wrapped up first in Joshua, now in Mako, that Hannah and Cricket barely exchanged a word. So really nothing to bring her back to the table. In fact, she’d been a little bored, sitting there watching the familiar dynamic play out.

She followed her hot husband into the dark, walking up a narrow path through the trees. It led to a clearing and there was a lovely little gazebo. Above them, the sky was a field of stars. The air was warm but not hot, not humid. Cicadas sang and when she looked out into the trees, she saw the languid blinking of fireflies.

“This is magical,” she said. “When did you see it?”

But he didn’t answer, just pulled her into the wood structure and kissed her—her lips, her neck, the dip of her collarbone—until she was weak with desire. There were wide cushioned benches along the long octagonal sides, and he lowered her down, his hands roaming her body, his breath in her ear.

She felt herself release, relax, the blessed drift of pleasure, of the alcohol buzzing through her veins. Gigi far away, safe in her bed, not even the sound of her breath on the monitor to connect Hannah to her mommy self.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“You’re everything,” he answered, voice deep, almost a growl. “You and Gigi, you’re my whole heart. Please always remember that.”

It sounded odd, like an apology or a good-bye. But she was too lost in passion to ask what he meant by that.

He hiked up her skirt as she tugged down his jeans. Then he was hard and deep inside her, and she lost herself to him, to desire. They knew each other’s bodies so well, but there was always discovery somehow. Here in this strange place, a forbidden escape from dinner, the stars twinkling violently. It was new. They were new. She wrapped her arms tight around him, pulled him in as close as she could.

She watched his muscular shoulders and the pools of his black eyes. Then rockets of pleasure and he pressed in deeper, moaning. Then they were just the breath and the night. Hannah closed her eyes, her body consumed with passion.

But as she climaxed she opened her eyes to look at Bruce. And that’s when she saw a white form in the trees. It twisted and floated, light like the flowing folds of fabric, and then it was gone. She drew in a gasp, kept watching. But there was only darkness.

“Wow,” Bruce said, leaning his weight against her. “Wow.”

“I saw something,” she whispered, sitting up.

Bruce followed her gaze into the darkness. “What?”

“It looked like—a ghost.”

Bruce stroked her hair, gave her a chuckle. “You were just hallucinating from extreme pleasure.”

“No,” she said, still looking. “I mean—yes, it was amazing. But I saw something.”

“Just the fireflies maybe?” he said, sensing her seriousness.

“Yeah, maybe.”

She kept staring off into the night, watching for the glowing white she’d seen. Chef Jeff’s words rang back:

Now people say they see the wife wandering through the woods, looking for her children. And some people think they’ve seen the little girl wading in the lake.

“It was that guy with his ridiculous ghost stories,” Bruce said, echoing her thoughts.

“You’re right,” she said, wanting him to be. The idea of a mother wandering around looking for her dead children had been unsettling. Actually, heart-wrenching was more like it.