A Fantasy...a later time...


Linda Delaney




Many years have passed, since I first set pen to paper and wrote of my beloved. Too many years if the truth be told... we had many, many nights like that one that I described. But as the years passed, he became involved with things closer to home. He married, and his first wife died, and left him a son. We saw one another infrequently, but we did still have time with each other, until he awoke to the true love in his life. She was much younger than him. Strangely enough, I did not hate her... perhaps I envied her a bit, but I did not hate her. She made him happy. She gave my love joy...she gave him a reason to live and love after he had been so badly hurt. I knew about the shooting, had read of it in the paper, and my friend there in Santa Barbara often wrote me of his troubles. She never knew that we were lovers, she had introduced us years ago, when we were very young.

Angie was a good friend from college, and she never knew that her boat's Captain and I were lovers. It was about the only secret I ever kept from her. I sit here and write this and can't believe the years that have passed...  Once he became involved with his 'Little Girl' as he called her, he was faithful to her, and I didn't hear from him but once. He wrote me a letter, a long, lovely, loving letter. In it he told me many things... most of all he told me how much I meant to him, and how much I would always mean to him... He said that he didn't want to hurt me, and I know he didn't want to... Again, strangely, it didn't hurt as I thought that it would. Instead, it made me happy for him. He was in love and he was loved.... that was what was most important to me. I, too, had met someone, and once I knew that my Captain would be happy I allowed myself the other fulfillment... not one of raging, lusting passionate love, but one of a comfortable easy love, of a husband and family.

I kept the passion in my heart, and enjoyed what I had found, albeit was nowhere near my love for my love. My husband died, my children grew, and in my fifties and I was alone once again. My friend was still at the NIMR, working for her Admiral, and my Captain was now an Admiral too. His son was grown, and he had a wonderful life with his wife.

How do I feel now? I wish that he would call; yet I know that he will not. I still can close my eyes and feel his hand on my body...I still feel him within me, that last time that we were together... Neither one of us knew that it was to be our last time, but there was an urgency about our lovemaking that night that had not existed before that night. It was as if we were being driven to heights of ecstasy and passion that were beyond our wildest dreams and desires. He was more magnificent a lover that night than he had ever been and the memory of it alone has fired my passion on more than one occasion...We made love to one another that night, and day as if our very lives depended on it. That we loved one another was beyond doubt. But we also knew that we would never be able to be together permanently. Our lives, and commitments would not allow it and we were both too strong willed to give up what either of us had worked hard to earn. In addition, neither one would ask the other to even consider such a sacrifice, even if the question had bee asked, on or the other of us would have said a resounding to giving it all up for love....sounds so very corny, doesn't.

He is now a four star Admiral, Ret., and his grandson is graduating form the Naval Academy. He and his son are in Annapolis for the occasion. The naval brass are making a big thing of three generations of graduates; they have all been first in their class, and the father and grandfather's careers, and accomplishments being played across the screen and the press. He would hate it! he always hated publicity. Much like his Admiral before him!... I can see him, still tall and straight, his son by his side. From the pictures I have seen, he still is a handsome man, still tending to thinness. He still makes my heart stop when I see him. The memories flood my being... I still want him... still...

There is a knock on the door, and my reveries are now broken. The paper falls to the floor, his picture facing up. I open the door, and my heart stops; he is here! He has come to me again! My love! I dare to shout out. He smiles sadly at me, and wraps me in his arms. They are still strong and warm. There are tears streaming down my face. I pull slightly away from him, and raise my hand to his face... there are tears there too...She is gone from me...my ‘little Girl’ is gone! I draw him into my home, and I take him into my arms and I hold him, and he cries, and I cry with him... I know his grief, just as I have known his love...and this time I know...I know that we will be together for the rest of our lives....







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