Hannah

The night was cold with the smell of snow in the air, and our fireplace was crackling and warm. We all sat in the living room, the couches and chairs and floor space taken other than the middle of the room where the youngest of the family skipped around in circles. All of us sang, all fifteen of us—my entire family.

It was December 5th, and Sinterklaas would come that night. We’d eaten until we were ready to burst and settled into the living room with coffee and cookies and singing. Any moment, the doorbell would ring—my uncle had already slipped out with the gifts to leave on the stoop. And then we would all open our presents and poems.

My cousin started “The Wind Keeps Blowing,” and as my family sang in a chorus of voices, I felt tears sting my nose and eyes, my throat squeezing the words to a whisper, the familiarity of the moment and the longing in my heart a combination that swept me under.

Through the trees, the wind keeps blowing,

In our homes, we sense its might.

Will the Holy Saint keep going?

Will he make it through the night?

Will he make it through the night?

Yes, he overcomes the darkness,

On his horse, so fierce and fast.

When he learns we long for his presence,

The Good Saint will come at last.

The Good Saint will come at last.

As our voices died, the doorbell rang. The children ran screaming for the door with all of us on their heels, and when Coen and Bas threw the door open, I stopped so suddenly, Johanna ran into me and Mama ran into her and Oma ran into her.

Charlie stood on the step of the house looking tired and confused and hopeful, scanning the faces in the threshold until he found mine and held my eyes, sending a shock of relief through me in a beat of my heart.

We all stared at Charlie with our mouths hanging open, and he stood there, staring back, all of us stunned silent.

Until my brother broke the silence.

“Who are you?” Bas asked, accusing.

Charlie looked down at him. “I’m sorry … I, uh … do you speak English?”

The twins turned back to look at us, completely dumbfounded.

I found myself and stepped forward. “Charlie? What … what are you doing here?”

He took a breath — I thought he might have been petrified for a moment from the shock.

“Hannah, I …” He swallowed hard.

“Go on and say it,” Oma said impatiently.

We all turned to look at her, a few surprised laughs rolling through us.

My mama turned to her. “Come on, Mama, everybody.” She directed the crowd back from the door, offering me an encouraging nod.

I stepped out onto the stoop where I’d said goodbye to him a few days before, the stoop where he now stood with hopeful, worried eyes.

“Charlie, what … how …” I stammered, unable to formulate sentences or coherent thought.

“There’s too much to say. I had to come here and say it. I have to tell you what you mean to me without thousands of miles between us.”

And when I looked into his eyes, I knew I was lost.

“When Mary left, my life fell apart, and I found that everything I’d thought I’d known about who I was and what I wanted was a lie. When you walked into that broken life of mine, I learned that life could be so much more than it was. When I saw you with him, when he said what he said, I was too broken to see the truth when it mattered most. And when you left me, I knew I had to try to get you back.”

“Charlie,” I breathed, “I—”

“Please,” he begged, “don’t say no. Not yet.”

I nodded, and he continued. “I don’t know how to tell you that you saved me. Because when I met you, I was a shadow, a shade of the man I’d once wanted to be. But you shone your light on me and showed me what I could be, what I wanted. You gave me the courage to reach out and take what I wanted, and I betrayed that gift by not standing by you. And I could give you a thousand excuses, but none of them would absolve me of the wrong I’ve done.

“I don’t know how to tell you that I’m sorry. Because I should have believed every word you said. I knew in my heart that you would never lie, and I knew in the depths of my soul that you would never hurt me. But I’d used up all my trust on someone who abused it, and when you needed me, I abandoned you, just like I’d been abandoned. I hurt you just like I’d been hurt.

“But what I do know is that I love you. I love you for the way you have filled my life with joy, for the kindness and grace you breathe into everything you do. I love you for showing me what kind of man I want to be—a man who could deserve someone like you. I love you, and I’m sorry. And if you’ll forgive me, I’ll spend every day and every breath proving it to you.”

He took a step closer, his eyes full of love and adoration and hope. “I do trust you, Hannah. I was just hurt and afraid—afraid of losing you, afraid of loving you. I was wrong, and you were right about everything except one thing. You do belong. You belong with me, and I belong to you. Home isn’t home, not without you.”

He paused, and I breathed, and we looked into each other’s eyes in silence.

“Kiss her, you fool!” Oma said eagerly, leaning out of the open window next to us.

“Mama!” I heard my mother scold, grabbing her by the shoulders to pull her back in.

But I laughed, tears in my eyes as Charlie smiled down at me.

“I do love you, Hannah. I love you more than I knew I could. I need you more than I believed was possible. Come home. Please, come back to me.”

I closed the small distance between us, touched his chest, looked into the depths of his eyes, not knowing what to say.

He touched my cheek, held my face, pleading. “I only want to make you happy. I only want to give you all of me—my heart, my life, my love. Will you let me?”

And the truth of my heart was all I could hear, all I could speak, just one word, a word I’d once wished for from his lips that he now wished from mine. And I gave it to him.

I would give him anything.

“Yes.”

A relieved sound escaped him, a laugh or a sob that puffed against my lips just before he kissed them, sealing his promise, sealing my fate, searing his name on my heart.

I barely heard the cheers of my family behind me, too lost in his arms and mouth and lips as we twisted together, still hanging on to each other as the kiss ended.

He pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

“I do,” I whispered back. “I love you,” I said, that simple fact absolving us both.

And he kissed me again with the promise of forever on his lips.

* * *

Charlie

Hannah in my arms was all I’d ever want for as long as I lived. I knew it then. I’d known it always.

I reluctantly let her go, and she leaned into me as the door opened behind her.

We turned to her chattering family.

“Everyone,” Hannah said, “this is Charlie. Charlie, meet my family.”

They all spoke at once, reaching for me. Her mother kissed my cheeks, hers high and rosy. Her father clasped my hand with a strong grip and a warm smile, and her sisters took turns kissing my cheeks too, three times on alternating sides. Her little oma was next, nearly pushing one of her cousins out of the way to get to me.

“Come here,” she said, her hands up and open, reaching for my face.

I obliged, bending over for her to reach me and kiss my cheeks, too. But she held me there instead of letting me go.

“I can see why she didn’t want to talk about you. I would have told her she was being stupid.”

I laughed. “Well, I’m glad I would have had your support.”

“Yes, well, I am old enough to know when you have something to lose that you’ll regret not going after. But tell me, Charlie—you came all the way here for her, but if you take her away, will you treat her with care?”

“I swear it,” I said, my voice low and serious.

She patted my cheek and smiled. “You’re a good boy. You take care of her.”

“I will.”

“You’d better.”

“Come on, Mama,” Hannah’s mother said, shaking her head apologetically at me.

I met her aunt, uncle, cousins and her younger brothers. Everyone was so blond and so tall, I felt almost like I was a normal height.

The crowd filtered into the living room, and Hannah ushered me in to sit in an armchair. She sat on the arm, leaning into me, her arm around my shoulders.

“Where are the children?” she asked me as everyone was getting settled.

“My mom came up from Florida after I figured out what to do. I couldn’t … I couldn’t let you go. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“I’m not,” she said softly and kissed my temple. “Let’s just stay for a little while. Can we go somewhere?”

My arm slipped around her waist, my hand coming to rest on her thigh. “Of course. There’s so much I want to say, so much more. I just … I can’t believe I’m here and that you said yes.”

She brushed my hair from my forehead. “All I’ve ever wanted to say is yes, Charlie.”

Hannah kissed me gently, chastely, and all I wanted to do was pull her into my lap and hold her and kiss her and love her.

Her uncle ducked out with a wink, and everyone began to sing a cheery song in Dutch, the whole lot of them. A few of them harmonized, the sound so lovely, I felt nostalgic without even understanding what they said.

The doorbell rang a moment later, and this time when the children opened it, it was to a sack of presents. The twins dragged the velvet bag in by its rope like they were hauling a twenty-point buck, and when they opened it, they took turns passing out the contents. There was a gift for everyone—everyone but me, of course, but I already had my gift. There was quite literally nothing else I could have asked for.

They opened their presents one at a time. Every present had a poem or letter attached to it, and they read them aloud—Hannah translated for me. Most of them were jokes or teased the recipient, and every one seemed to have meaning, nothing extravagant, all of them thoughtful.

And just like that, I had an idea.

But not for tonight. Tonight, all I wanted was Hannah.

We ate pastries and drank coffee and talked and answered a thousand questions until Hannah disappeared to pack, giving me plenty of time to pull Oma over and enlist her help, ending up enlisting both of her sisters and mother too, because there were apparently no secrets in that house. And just as we finalized our plan, Hannah returned with a small bag to take my hand again. And we said goodbye to her family with promises to see each other the next day.

The second the door closed, I pulled her into me and kissed her. I kissed her as the snow began to fall, the warmth of her a part of me, our breath mingling. I kissed her and told her how much I loved her, and I hoped she understood.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said when she pulled away.

“It was the only thing left to do, the only way I knew to prove that I meant it when I said I wanted you back.” I kissed her again, just once, and took her bag. “Plus, I had Lysanne at my back with a pitchfork.”

She laughed down at her feet as we walked. “Yes, she would do that.”

“It helped that she was right. I owe you so much, more than I can ever repay you for, more than I can ever give you. More than I deserve.”

She pulled me to a stop on the sidewalk. “Why don’t you feel that you deserve me?”

I watched her face in the moonlight, the snow whispering around us. “Because you’re everything right, everything good. Because everything you touch is made better. But everything I touch spoils. You’re young and beautiful and free. And I wish I could have always belonged to you and you alone.”

“Are you mine now?”

I stepped closer. “Hannah, I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours even if you don’t want me. My heart was in your hands the first moment I saw your face.”

“Then it isn’t about what we think we deserve. It’s about honoring what’s been given to us. I promise to honor your love if you’ll honor mine.”

“I will,” I breathed, stepping into her. “I do.”

And I sealed the vow with a kiss in the falling snow.

We hurried to the hotel a few blocks away and up the stairs and to my room. The building was old, but the interior had been remodeled, though they’d left the original fireplace —when she ducked into the bathroom, I built a fire. And then I turned out the lights, kicking off my shoes and hanging up my coat, climbing into bed to wait for her.

When she opened the door, she stepped out and walked through the quiet room.

Hannah was an angel in white, with alabaster skin and hair the color of wheat, her eyes like sea glass, clear and blue and deep and fixed on me. The fire cast the gauzy fabric in an orange glow, her body a silhouette, but I could see every curve, see the shadows of her breasts and her peaked nipples, the valley of her waist and the swell of her hips.

And when she was at my side, when she was in my arms, when her breath was my own, I found myself no longer free.

I didn’t want to be free. I only wanted to be hers.

My hands held her face in the firelight, held her body against mine, laid her down, her hair spread out around her like gold. Down her body I moved, her legs parting and thighs shifting against my thighs, then my waist, my hands wanting to touch all of her. They slipped up her legs, taking her nightgown with it until it was hitched over her waist, but my eyes were down, at the center of her, which was where I wanted to touch most of all.

I settled between her thighs, opening them up, my breath ragged as my fingers spread her open, and I lowered my lips, closing my mouth over her core.

A sigh slipped out of her at the contact, her hands twisting into my hair when I swept my tongue, thighs trembling when I slipped my finger into her heat, and I took my time, waiting until her hips rolled and breath grew loud. And then I let her go, backed off the bed, stood with the fire at my back and reached between my shoulder blades to grab my shirt and tug it over my head.

I gripped my belt as she watched me with heavy lids and swollen lips, her legs still spread and hips shifting gently. I unfastened my pants and stepped out of them, climbed up her body, pushing her nightgown up her ribs, over her breasts. She moved to pull it over her head, and before it was even gone, my fingers were grazing her long neck, her collarbone. The weight of her breast rested in my palm, her nipple tight under my circling thumb, her lips parted, her eyes on my own. And I lowered my mouth to hers as her fingers closed around my length, her hips angling until my crown rested against her core.

I flexed my hips, sliding into her gently as my tongue searched her mouth with slow purpose. And when I had filled her, when there was no space between us, skin to skin, heart to heart, I was whole. I was home.

We moved together, her arms around my neck, my hand gripping her thigh, our bodies a wave and lips never parting, not until she turned her head, her eyes pinched shut, whispering my name as I pumped faster, harder. Her neck arched, her chin pointing at the ceiling, a gasp of pleasure that marked a shuddering throb through her when she came, and I was right behind her, letting my past go with the future in my arms.