Dream A Little Dream

21

Lisa pushed past Russ. "Emily, what are you doing sitting up?"

"I got hot."

Her hand flew to the child's brow. "You don't feel hot." She grabbed the thermometer from a glass on the bedside table and pushed it between Emily's lips. "Let's see if you're running a temperature."

Russ glared at Rachel, then moved toward his daughter. "Hey, puddin'."

"You said you'd come yesterday, Daddy." Emily spoke around the thermometer.

"Yeah, well, I was pretty busy. But I'm here now." As he sat on the side of the bed and took Emily's hand, he shot Rachel a venomous look.

"Rachel's got a little boy," Emily said. "Her hands is hot."

Russ's eyes grew fierce. "Get out of here."

"Stop it, Russ." Lisa stepped forward.

"I don't want her near Emily."

"This is my house now, and what you want doesn't matter."

"It's all right," Rachel said. "I have to go anyway. Good-bye, Emily. You take care of yourself."

Emily pulled the thermometer from her mouth. "Can your little boy come play with me?"

"We're going to be moving soon. I'm afraid he won't be around much longer."

Lisa tried to put the thermometer back in, but Emily shook her head. "Want to read a story. Want apple juice."

"What's going on?" Russ said. "You told me she's been too sick to sit up."

"I guess she's having a good day." Lisa walked over to Rachel. Taking her hand, she drew her into the hallway. "I'll never be able to thank you enough. That money's going to make a lot of difference."

Russ appeared behind them. "What money?"

"Rachel is giving us twenty-five thousand dollars for Emily's Fund."

"What?" He sounded as if he were choking.

"The check is from Cal Bonner," Rachel said. "It's his gift, not mine."

Lisa's expression indicated she didn't believe it, and Russ looked as if he'd been hit by a stun gun. Suddenly Rachel needed to get away from them both. "Good luck."

A small voice called out to her from the bedroom. "Bye, Rachel."

"Bye, sweetie."

She left the house and hurried to her car.

As Ethan pulled into the left lane of the interstate to pass a Ryder rental truck with two bicycles hanging off the rear, Kristy gazed at his calendar boy-profile. "I can't believe you're serious about this."

He slipped back into the right lane. "I'm just not cut out to be a pastor. I've known it for a long time, and I'm tired of fighting it. I'm planning to turn in my letter of resignation on Monday, as soon as we get back."

Kristy started to argue, then shut her mouth. What was the use? He'd dropped his bombshell just as they'd left Salvation. Now they were approaching Knoxville, and she'd been debating with him the whole time. Unfortunately, he showed no sign of changing his mind.

Ethan Bonner had been born to be a pastor. How could he not understand that? This was the worst mistake of his life, but no matter what she said, he wasn't going to listen.

"Could we please talk about something else?" he said.

It was already late, nearly evening on Friday. They'd be returning to Salvation after the conference's Sunday-morning prayer service and luncheon, which didn't give her much time to reason with him. "What will you do?"

"Counseling probably. Maybe I'll go back to school and get my Ph.D. in psychology. I don't know."

She played her trump card. "Your brothers are going to be so disappointed in you, not to mention your parents."

"We all have to live our own lives." They were approaching an exit ramp, and he pulled over. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

He knew as well as she did that the conference kicked off with a buffet dinner at seven, and her car trouble had already made them late. She hadn't wanted to spend too much time alone with him, so she'd planned to drive separately to Knoxville, but when she'd tried to start her normally reliable Honda, nothing had happened, and she'd been forced to go with him. "It's already six, and we really don't have time."

"Are you afraid somebody's going to give you an F on your report card if you're late?"

This sarcasm was new to him, one of several changes hat had taken place since she'd told him she was quitting, and she didn't like it. "It's your conference, not mine. I wouldn't even be going if you hadn't nagged me into it."

Her two weeks' notice had been up nearly a week ago, but he'd bullied her into staying on the job through this weekend, and since her new position at the preschool in Brevard didn't start until Monday, she'd agreed. Now she wished she hadn't been such a pushover.

Being with him had grown even more painful since last Friday night at the Pride of Carolina. What had happened in the front seat of his car had destroyed her illusions that she might be getting over him. She still loved him, and she knew she always would, even though being around him this past week had felt like a ride on a runaway roller coaster.

He alternated between uncharacteristic bouts of snappishness and being so sweet and thoughtful that she could barely hold back tears. When he wasn't snarling at her, he displayed an almost puppy-dog eagerness to please. She knew her accusation that he hadn't been a friend had stung him badly, and she only wished she could chalk his behavior up to an emotion other than guilt.

Sometimes she'd catch him watching her, and even her inexperienced eyes recognized the desire she saw there. It should have made her happy. Wasn't that what she'd wanted? But the knowledge only depressed her. She didn't want to be some babe he lusted after. She wanted to be his love.

She realized he'd passed the fast-food restaurants that sat near the freeway exit. "I thought you said you were hungry."

"I am." But he continued to drive down the two-lane country highway. Finally he slowed and made a left turn into the parking lot of a dingy diner that sat next to an eight-unit motel.

The diner's gravel lot contained mostly pickups. As he parked between two of them, she regarded the place with distaste. Its dirty mustard asphalt shingles and flickering neon beer signs hardly looked promising. "I think we should go back to the Hardee's."

"I like this place."

"It's not respectable."

"Good." He jerked the keys from the ignition and threw open the door.

It was going to be a long weekend if his mood didn't improve soon. Gruder Mathias, one of the town's retired clergy, was preaching for Ethan on Sunday, and Monday was his day off, so he wouldn't be in any hurry to get back.

With a sigh of resignation, she trailed after him to the entrance, which featured a pair of heavy wooden doors in a fake Mediterranean motif. She heard the whine of a country ballad even before they stepped inside.

A blast of air-conditioning plastered her tomato-red ribbed tank dress to her body. She smelled hot grease and stale beer. At the dimly lit bar, a group of ol' boys wearing gimme caps and muddy jeans sat drinking beer and smoking.

Since it was still relatively early, most of the tables were vacant, as were the brown vinyl booths. Dusty plastic vines that looked as if they'd been stapled to the paneled walls a decade earlier provided the decor, along with some framed health-department certificates that had to be forgeries.

Ethan steered her to a booth in the back. As soon as they were settled, the bartender, a no-neck bald-headed man, called over for their drink order. "What'll you have?"

"Coke," she replied, hesitating only a moment before she added, "In the can, please."

"I'll have scotch on the rocks."

Kristy gazed at Ethan in surprise. She'd never seen him drink strong liquor. He didn't even order margaritas in Mexican restaurants.

She had to remind herself that he was no longer her responsibility, so she bit her tongue.

One of the men at the bar turned to stare at her. Having men notice her was still new enough to make her uncomfortable, so she pretended not to notice.

The bartender brought over their drinks, then slapped down two laminated menus sticky with old condiments. "Jeannie'll be with you in a minute. Special tonight is fried catfish." He walked away.

Kristy poked the grubby menus out of the way with her little finger. Ignoring the empty glass of ice cubes, she wiped the rim of the can with her paper napkin before she took a drink. The Coke was warm, but at least it was sanitary.

The man at the bar continued to watch her. He was young, maybe in his mid-twenties, with a Miller Lite T-shirt and powerful biceps. She tugged nervously on one of her fake diamond studs. Her short tank dress was sexy, but not so trashy that it served as an open invitation, and she wished he'd look somewhere else.

Ethan took a sip of scotch and shot the man an accusing glare. "What do you think you're looking at?"

She gasped. "Ethan!"

The man at the bar shrugged. "Don't see no 'sold' sign on her."

"Maybe that's because you can't read."

Her eyes widened with dismay. Ethan, the dedicated pacifist, seemed to be spoiling for a fight with a brute who outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, all of it muscle.

The man at the bar uncoiled from the stool, and she swore she saw the light of anticipation in Ethan's blue eyes. Her mind raced. What would Rachel do?

She gulped and held up her hand toward the muscular man. "Please don't take offense. He hasn't been the same since he gave up the priesthood." It wasn't much of a lie, she thought.

But the bully didn't appear to be buying it. "He doesn't look like a priest."

"That's because he isn't anymore." She took a deep breath. "He's very protective of me. I'm… uh… Sister Kristina, his… sister."

"You're a nun?" His gaze slid to the scooped neck of her tank dress.

"Yes, I am. And God bless you."

"You don't look like a nun."

"My order doesn't wear habits."

"Aren't you at least supposed to wear crucifixes or something?"

She tugged on the delicate gold chain around her neck and withdrew the small gold cross that nestled between her breasts.

"Sorry, Sister." He shot another dark glance at Ethan, then he settled back on his stool.

Ethan regarded her with annoyance. "Just what in the Sam Hill do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you out of a barroom fight!"

"Maybe I don't want to be kept out."

"Catfish!" she called over to the bartender. "We'll have the fried catfish. And bless you, too," she added belatedly.

Ethan rolled his eyes, but to her relief, he didn't pursue the subject. Instead, he pursued his scotch, and by the time an overly made-up, dark-haired waitress wearing cutoffs and a Garth Brooks T-shirt arrived with their food, he'd finished it.

"I'll have another scotch."

"Ethan, you're driving."

"Mind your own business, Sister Bernadine."

The waitress gave her a suspicious look. "I heard you earlier. I thought you said your name was Sister Kristina."

"Uh… Bernadine was my name before I went into the convent. Then I became Sister Kristina."

Ethan snorted.

The waitress turned to him. Ethan was as handsome as ever, and she was clearly interested. "So what's it like not bein' a priest anymore?"

He jerked his thumb toward Kristy. "Ask her."

"He's… Well, it hasn't been easy. Nothing's easy for people who turn their backs on their true calling." She twisted the cap off the ketchup bottle and cleaned the crusty rim with another paper napkin before she handed it to him. "They feel empty. Hollow. They try to fill that hollow with liquor, and the next thing you know, they're lonely alcoholics who've lost their looks."

The waitress brushed his shoulder with the tip of a frosted blue fingernail. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that, Father."

He gave her a lazy smile. "Thanks."

"Any time."

As the waitress sauntered toward the bar, Ethan openly enjoyed her swinging rear door. She returned with his scotch and departed with a smoky smile.

"Eat your dinner before it gets cold," Kristy snapped.

He sipped from his fresh drink. "What do you care whether my food's cold or not?"

"I don't."

"You're a liar." He glared at her so intently that she wanted to squirm. "You know what I think? I think you're still in love with me."

"And I think you're getting drunk." She willed herself not to flush. "You've never had a head for alcohol."

"So what if I am drunk?"

That made her angry. "You haven't turned in your resignation yet, Ethan Bonner! You're still an ordained minister. "

"Not in my heart," he retorted angrily. "In my heart I've already resigned."

The words were barely out of his mouth before he winced. She watched as he went very still, almost as if he were listening to an internal voice speaking a message he didn't want to hear. Finally he muttered something she couldn't quite make out and picked up his fork to stab the catfish.

"It's already dead," she pointed out.

"Just pay attention to your own food and leave mine alone. Where's the salt?"

"Right next to you."

He reached for it, but, as angry as she was with him, she still loved him, and she couldn't watch him poison himself, so she whipped the salt shaker up before he could touch it and scrubbed at the corroded lid with another napkin, then thrust it at him. "Try not to touch anything."

His long fingers curled around the salt shaker at the same-time his eyes curled around her. "You know what I want to touch, don't you?"

Her tongue wouldn't move.

"I want to touch you. Just like I did that night at the drive-in."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I don't want to talk about it, either." He pushed aside his catfish, picked up his scotch, and gazed at her over the rim of the glass. "I want to do it."

She knocked over her Coke can, then scrambled to right it before it spilled all over the table. Her skin felt hot under her dress. "We… We have to be in Knoxville in half an hour."

"We're not going to make it. As a matter of fact, I don't care if we make any of the conference."

"But you've already paid the registration fee."

"So what?"

"Eth…"

"Let's get out of here."

He tossed down a few bills, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her outside. Her pulses raced. This was a new and dangerous Ethan she'd never seen.

He drew her down the stairs, and the next thing she knew, he was pressing her against the side of his Camry with his hips. "I can't stop thinking about that night."

He rubbed her bare shoulders with his thumbs, and she felt the heat from his body through the knit of her dress. A truck buzzed by.

"You care about me," he whispered. "Shouldn't I be the one you lose your virginity to instead of somebody you don't care about?"

"How… How do you know I haven't already lost it?"

"I just do."

Her conscience went to war with her desire for him. "It's not right."

He dipped his head and she felt his jaw move against her hair. "Why don't we lose our virginities together?"

"You're not a virgin."

"It's been so long since I've had sex that I feel like one."

"I don't… I don't believe it works that way."

"Sure it does." His lips touched her earlobe, and his scotch-soft breath brushed her cheek. "Yes or no. Your decision."

He was the snake, tempting her. He knew the way she felt about him, and it wasn't fair for him to deliberately manipulate her emotions like this.

"I don't love you anymore," she lied. "I never loved you. It was just infatuation."

His hands curved around the sides of her hips, and his thumbs brushed the tiny elastic ridge left by her skimpy panties. "You smell so good. I love the way you smell."

"I'm not wearing any perfume."

"I know."

She sighed. "Oh, Eth…"

"Yes or no?"

Anger exploded inside her, and she slapped away his hands. "Yes! Of course, yes! Because I'm weak and needy and I don't like you very much right now."

If she'd expected her outburst to slow him down, she was proven wrong.

"I can fix that." Within seconds, he had the car door unlocked and pushed her inside.

Instead of turning back out onto the highway, he simply swung the Camry across the gravel parking lot and into the narrow lane that led to the office of the EZ Sleep Motel.

"Oh, no…" She stared with dismay at the row of white wooden units with three large pines standing guard in front.

His voice held a pleading note she'd never heard before. "I can't wait any longer. I promise, Kristy, the next time it'll be champagne and satin sheets."

Without waiting for her to respond, he vaulted from the car and shot into the motel office. He was back within minutes. Again, he settled behind the wheel and drove to the end unit, where he parked crookedly, jumped out, and raced around to open her door.

The good Pastor Bonner hustled her inside like a teenager ready to score.

Ethan pushed the door shut behind them and let out a sigh of relief as he saw that the room was shabby, but clean. He knew there was no way on earth he could have kept her here if it had been dirty. And he wouldn't let her go. He simply couldn't stand this sense of separation between them any longer. He had to keep her here until he marked her for life.

The need to mark her was important, although he wouldn't do it with a hurtful bite or a marring bruise-that would be intolerable. But he wanted to do it with something indelible. He wanted a mark that would keep her by his side forever and make them best friends again. And the only way he could think of was to do it with sex.

No matter what she said, sex meant something to Kristy, or she wouldn't still be a virgin. Any man she had sex with would be important to her forever, and that's why it had to be him. Only him.

He searched for a less selfish reason to justify what he intended to do, and quickly found it. She was too precious for him to allow another man to ruin her. Kristy was unique, but everyone didn't understand that. What if her first lover didn't take care with her? What if he didn't understand how precious she was?

There were so many pitfalls awaiting her. Kristy was a nut about cleanliness, and that could make sex a problem for her. A man would have to be patient with her eccentricities, distract her with a little gentle teasing, a few deep kisses, until she forgot about hygiene and just enjoyed herself.

"This room is plenty clean," he pointed out.

"I didn't say it wasn't."

The idea that she might be disappointed made him defensive. "I know what you're thinking. Just because something's shabby doesn't mean it's dirty." He crossed to the bed and whipped down the spread and blanket to reveal a crisp white sheet. "See."

"Ethan, are you drunk?"

She looked so pretty standing there in that short red dress, with her eyes big and uncertain, that a lump formed in his throat. "I've got a nice buzz, but I'm not drunk. I know exactly what I'm doing, if that's what you're hinting at."

You don't have a clue what you're doing.

He ignored the voice, just as he'd been ignoring it ever since that night at the Pride of Carolina.

The old linoleum floor creaked beneath his feet as he moved to her side, drew her into his arms, and kissed her. He tasted spearmint, and he realized she'd popped a breath mint while he'd been registering for the room. As if she needed something artificial to disguise her own sweet taste.

Her body, warm and pliant, bent against him. He ran his hands up along her spine, then cupped her hips.

Her lips parted and her arms entwined his neck.

He stopped thinking as he lost himself in their kiss.

He had no idea how much time had passed before she drew away and looked deeply into his eyes. I love you, Eth.

Her lips didn't move, but he heard her as clearly as he heard God's voice. A sense of relief shot through him. Then she began to speak.

"This isn't right. I want to more than I ever wanted anything, but it's not right for you and it's not right for me. This isn't what God expects from us."

The words were soft, spoken from her heart, but he shut them out.

Listen to her, Ethan, Oprah admonished. Listen to what she's saying.

No. He refused to listen. He was a man, not a saint, and he was tired of letting God run his life. Instead, he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her dress and touched the soft skin beneath. "You were going to let Mike Reedy do this." He drew his hand upward, taking the dress with him until he reached her bra. Gently he squeezed her breast through the lace.

"Maybe."

"I don't care what you say. I'm a better friend to you than he is."

"Yes."

He traced his thumb over the soft swell that rose above the top of the bra. "Why would you let him make love to you, but not me?"

She was quiet for so long that he didn't think she'd answer. Then her fingers closed around his forearm. "Because I don't need commitment to have sex with Mike Reedy."

He froze. "Commitment?"

She stared at him with hungry eyes.

"Commitment? That's what you want from me?"

She nodded, looking miserable.

He waited for the panic to hit him, but it didn't happen. Commitment. What she really meant was marriage. He'd planned to get married someday, but that time had always been in the future. He withdrew his hand from beneath her dress.

"And I want love from you." Her throat worked as she swallowed. "Love even before the commitment."

He had to get something straight in his mind. "You don't want commitment from Mike?"

She shook her head.

"And you don't want love from him either?"

She shook it again.

"But you want it from me?"

She nodded.

He still didn't feel any panic. Instead, he was filled with a sense of exhilaration that came all the way from his toes. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted from his heart. Of course.

As clearly as if someone had snapped on the room's small television set, he heard a song-a children's song-along with a new voice echoing in his head.

As the song continued, a picture formed in his mind of all of Them combining into One: Eastwood, the Enforcer God; Oprah, the Counselor God; Marion Cunningham, the Mother God… They melded into a single new form.

The children's song ended, and the voice began to speak. I love you just the way you are, Ethan. You're very special to Me. Through you, I shine the light of My love on all the world. You are My perfect creation. Just the way you are.

And then, in Ethan's mind, this most wonderful God took off His formal suitcoat and slipped out of His stiff shoes. In a cozy sweater and sneakers, He sang His song of perfect love, telling all His children-every single one of them-that it was a beautiful day in His neighborhood.

At that moment, Ethan Bonner stopped fighting his destiny.

Kristy studied his expression, but, as well as she knew him, she couldn't tell what he was thinking. She only knew there would be no going back for her. She'd set aside her pride and spoken from her heart. If he didn't like it, that was his problem.

He took a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes." He gave a jerky nod. "Okay."

"Okay what?" She was bewildered.

"Love. Commitment. The whole thing." He grabbed the skirt of her dress and smoothed it back in place. "Kentucky."

"Kentucky? What are you talking about? Oh, Eth, you are drunk. I knew it!"

"I'm not drunk!" He spun her toward the door. "Come on. We're leaving right now."

The knowledge crushed her, and her throat constricted as she turned to face him. "You don't want me anymore."

He pulled her back into his arms. "Oh, baby, I want you so much I can't stand it. And I love you, too, so stop looking at me like that. I haven't been able to think about anything else since you walked into my office in those tight white jeans."

The small flame of hope that had started to burn inside her disappeared and she regarded him angrily. "You love me? Why don't you just say what you mean? You lust after me."

"That, too."

She'd always been able to read him so clearly, but now she felt as if she were in the presence of a stranger.

"I don't love you because of all the cosmetic changes you've made," he said. "I'm not that shallow. It's just that all those changes finally forced me notice you and appreciate what's been right under my nose the whole time." He gazed at her as if he could see into her soul and wanted her to see into his. The flame of hope began to burn anew inside her.

His thumb settled in the hollow at the base of her neck. "You've been in my life for so long that I stopped thinking about you as someone who existed separately from me. You were just part of me. And then all these changes happened, and you decided to leave me, and I've been going crazy ever since."

"You have?" She felt delirious, entranced.

He smiled. "You don't have to look so happy about it." And then his forehead knitted, and a note of pleading sounded in his voice. "We can talk on the road. Come on, baby. Hurry. We really, really don't have any time to waste." He grabbed the doorknob with one hand, her shoulder with the other.

"Where are we going? Why are you in such a hurry?"

"We're going to Kentucky." He pulled her outside and hustled her toward his car. "It's not far to the border. There's no waiting period to get married, and we're getting married tonight, Kristy Brown, no matter what you say. And I'm not leaving the ministry, either!"

They'd reached his car. He was beginning to sound as if he were running out of breath, and he stopped by the passenger door to fill his lungs. "We'll do it all over again for our families when we get back. We can even pretend it's the first time, but we're getting married tonight because the two of us need to make love in the worst way, and it's not going to happen unless we say some permanent vows before God first." He froze. "You do want to get married, don't you?"

Happiness bubbled inside her. She smiled, then laughed. "Yes, I really do."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Good. We'll work out the details on the way."

"What details?"

He pushed her into the car. "Where we're going to live. How many kids we're going to have. Who sleeps on what side of the bed. That sort of thing." He slammed the door, rushed around to the other side of the car, and climbed in. "I also should tell you the reason your car wouldn't start earlier was that I sneaked over to your condo and disconnected the battery cable so you'd have to ride with me. And I'm not sorry, so don't think you're going to get an apology!"

She didn't ask for one, and, within minutes, they were back on the road.

Bemused, Kristy spent the next ninety miles listening to the strangest lecture she'd ever heard. Ethan had always been a stickler regarding premarital counseling for the couples he wed, and now he tried to condense everything he knew into the time it took them to cross the Kentucky border and make the arrangements. He talked and talked and talked.

Kristy smiled and nodded.

They found a Pentecostal minister who agreed to marry them, but Ethan conducted the ceremony. He was the one who asked her to repeat the vows he recited, and he was the one who spoke his own vows in a deep, intense voice that came directly from his heart.

It was Kristy, however, who spotted the Holiday Inn not far from the outskirts of the Cumberland Falls Resort State Park.

They'd barely set their suitcases down before she tackled him, and he fell backward onto the king-sized mattress. She looked so eager, so excited, so thoroughly pleased with herself, that he laughed.

"Gotcha!" she said.

While he tried to catch his breath, she tore at the buttons on his shirt, then lunged for his belt buckle.

He gazed up into the beautiful, intent eyes of his virgin bride. "Let me know if I'm scaring you."

"Shut up and take off your pants."

That cracked them both up. But they didn't laugh for long; their mouths were too busy with hot, wet kisses. And since neither of them had the patience for slow disrobing, they were naked and groping each other within seconds.

"You're beautiful," she sighed as she stroked him. "Just the way I'd imagined."

He cupped the spill of her breasts and tried to find his voice. "You're even more than I imagined."

"Oh, Eth… That feels so good."

"You're telling me."

"I want you to do that a lot."

"Remind me if I forget."

She made a throaty moan as he ran his thumbs over her nipples.

"Do that again. Oh, yes…"

"Lie back, baby, and let me play with you."

She did as he asked. His caresses grew more intimate, and she sobbed in her passion. "Oh, Eth, I want to do everything." She moaned. "Yes. That. And I want… I want to say everything. Dirty words. I want to say dirty words. And dirty little phrases."

"Go ahead."

"I-I can't think of any."

He whispered a really good one in her ear.

Her eyes widened, and she climaxed beneath his hand.

Even though he was so hard he ached, he laughed because he was the only person in the world who knew her secret.

Kristy Brown Bonner was easy.

She calmed, but he was ready to explode. He longed to bury himself inside her, but, at the very last moment, he remembered something he'd forgotten to discuss in their hurried session of premarital counseling. He stroked her hair and noticed his hand was shaking from the effort it took to restrain himself. "Are we worried about getting you pregnant?"

"I don't think so." She regarded him searchingly. "Are we?"

He settled his weight between her thighs, kissed her, and thought of the babies they'd have. "No, we're definitely not."

She was tight and new and wet. He tried to take his time entering her, but she would have none of it. "Now, Eth… Please stop messing around. Oh, please… I want to remember this forever."

He drove home, and, as he fully possessed her, he gazed down into her eyes. They were filled with tears of love.

His own vision blurred, and the depth of his love for this woman brought the ancient words of that first couple to his mind. "Flesh of my flesh," he whispered. "Bone of my bone."

She caressed his hips with her palms and whispered back, "Flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bone."

They smiled. Their tears mingled. And when they came together, both of them knew that only God could have designed something so perfect.