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When I Listen to My Heart |
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Disclaimer: Nothing Seven is mine. No money was made, etc.
Author’s notes: Another little tidbit that wouldn’t leave my muse’s space. ;-)
When I listen to my heart, that’s when I know. I know that no matter what happens, what things come between us or confront us, that we’ll be okay. We’ll be together.When I listen to my heart, I know what we share is right, no matter what anyone says. No matter if I did fight it myself, in the beginning.
When I listen to my heart, I know that Heaven shined down on us when I walked into that warehouse that day and our eyes met. I know I was given a gift. That we were given a gift so precious that it awes me even today.
I know that our house is filled with laughter, respect and more love than two people could ever hope for, even if such things as children and grandchildren will never grace it’s presence. And I know that our friends honor who we are, despite what we may do. I know just how lucky we are.
When I listen to my heart, I know that nothing could take Chris from me... not even the unthinkable. He’s mine, heart and soul. From now to eternity. Has been since the beginning of time. I know he loves me with every breath and with every thought of every day. But sometimes...
Other times... in the darkness, when I listen to my fears, I’m afraid everything is as fragile as a dream. And with one wrong move, with one sharp, shattering sound, I might awaken from it, to find myself miserably and utterly alone.
It’s happened before. When I listen to my fear, I know it could happen again.
Even as I try valiantly to push that thought away, I look up and catch a glimpse of Sam Riley’s widow. It could have just as easily been me. Standing there, with that lost look on my face. Haunted, pain-filled eyes, trembling hands, and with a huge gaping hole blown in my life.
It could have been me.
Ah hell, it could have been Chris lying in the casket that’s being gently lowered into the ground now.
Could have been his lifeless green eyes staring at the darkened sky that fateful night.
But it wasn’t. It was Sam.
I’m thankful that I’ve worn my sunglasses as I feel a familiar gaze caressing me. I wouldn’t want Chris to see the fear that flashes in my eyes as the scene from two days ago springs unbidden to my mind.
God, had the man really been standing that close to Chris? Had his life been hanging by an invisible thread, paralleled so near to the fine lifeline that holds my world?
A few more inches and my bond, not that of Hannah Riley’s, could have been severed, leaving nothing but roses and mourners in it’s wake.
But when I listen to my heart, I know that’s not the case.
When I listen to my heart, I know that Chris heard my shout, felt my fear across the hundred yards that separated us, and it propelled him to move out of harm’s way.
I know that it wasn’t his time. It‘ll never be his time because I need him too much to ever let him go.
But when I listen to my fear, I see the setting it paints for me with memories that slip like sheaths of steel into my mind’s eye. I see Chris fall in a tangle of limbs and with mixed shouts as bullets erupt around us. I see blood splatter on the cold, dirty walls of the warehouse like some terrifying abstract work of art and I watch as the dark red fluid pools around my fallen peers and my lover.
When I listen to my fear, I get to them in time to hear Chris pull in a strangled last breath, as his body gives way to massive injuries sustained in the line of duty...
But when I look within my heart, I know that it’s Sam I watched choke on his own blood as he fought to hold on to that precious thread we call life.
Chris had looked so angry in that moment as he held the younger agent against him, yelling at him to breathe. Telling him that the ambulance was on the way and that he was not explaining to Hannah why her husband wasn’t coming home. And then he’d just looked lost. Like a little boy.
As Sam’s eyes locked on a point above us, and ceased to see anything in this realm, Chris’ gaze had merged with mine and we both glimpsed heaven and shared a small moment of hell.
Times from our lives flashed before me. Sundays leisurely spent in bed. Horseback rides across snow-covered hills. Dinners in front of the fireplace. Days on the shooting range and at the lake. Football games with the guys, and games of love that were just between us.
I saw a weekend of watching sunsets that had begun the whole thing. Then a fated night in October when a bottle of Tequila and a book of poetry had cemented our commitment to something bigger than the both of us. And finally...finally I saw a day on the beach when we shared that promise with good friends and family.
God. It could have been him.
That’s what I hear. Over and over again. When I listen to my fear.
But when I listen to my heart, I hear him say my name. The richness in that tone, the deep love behind it, brings my attention to the present.
“You ready, cowboy? Everyone else is gone.”
I look around the graveyard and see that he’s right... but not quite.
“Not everyone.” My voice is soft and rough from disuse.
His eyes narrow at my cryptic reply, but when he follows my line of sight to the fresh grave, recognition flares. He sighs. “Some of us don’t get to go home.”
“Some had to go home alone.”
His hand brushes my arm, and I know he wishes he could offer more. “Not us, though.”
I nod, realizing he’s struggling right along with me. Scared because I’m afraid. Aware, maybe more than me, just what we almost lost. I’d known it that night, after the raid, after things had settled down. When we’d wearily made our way to the ranch, silently and mercifully sank into bed, and lustfully slammed into each other.
Over and over again, until the break of dawn, we’d indulged ourselves with kisses and touches and whispers that drove out the sounds of that daunting fear. We’d showered and ate, and then gone back to bed, unwilling to face the truth, hiding in our own private sanctuary, where Chris could protect me from what if’s and where I could pretend that Sam Riley didn’t exist.
But here we are. Far from home. And fear’s a calling.
But when I listen to my heart, I can almost hear his smile. “For a man who hates funerals, you’re sure dragging this one out, Tanner.”
“Reckon there ain’t much else to do on a Monday afternoon.” I meet his gaze and he just shakes his head.
“I can think of a few things.”
“A man shouldn’t talk about such at a hallow place, Larabee.”
He laughs. “I’m speaking of heavenly things, pard. Don’t see any sin in that.”
Before I can answer, he casts a glance towards Sam’s grave. “Besides, I think Riley wouldn’t mind.”
“Don’t reckon he’ll be minding much these days, pard.” I can’t help myself; despite the fact I know Chris is trying...trying to help me hear.
“That’s why I intend to mind all that much more.”
His reply surprises me, and the depth of what he’s said, which is openly reflected on his face, startles me even more.
In an uncharacteristic move he reaches out and wraps his long fingers around my wrist, giving it a slight squeeze. “I don’t want to miss one moment I’ve been given, Vin. I’ve spent more than enough time in my life thinking about death. That’s why I won’t waste one more minute on it, when I can be living...with you.”
I want to say something, anything, but I just can’t. He’s standing there, looking so sure, and so willing to walk right off of some invisible cliff that only I can see, and I can’t say one damn word. I merely look to the hole in the ground, where someone had just buried her heart.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, and I long to feel his arms around me, his lips covering mine, his body sheltering me.
Our eyes meet and a soft breeze washes over us. “You know that we’re forever? Right?”
I’m not sure if he hears it too or maybe I’m just imagining it, but I nod, a small grin finally fighting itself free. “Sure, cowboy. I know it.” Every single time. When I listen to my heart.
END
August 5, 2001
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