You are here.” Coming from the darkness, the melodic voice seemed surprised, but pleased.

She turned a full circle, glancing around to the dim corners for

the sound of that voice, feeling lost and off-balance. It was musical, that voice, it pulled at her, and she was desperate to find its source. The room itself appeared richly furnished albeit it was dimly lit by a small fire in an immensely colossal fireplace, the sofa facing it was archaic in its shape, covered with red velvet and gold brocade, the armchairs on each side were green and gold and as richly covered. The walls themselves were paneled in dark wood, with paintings thrown into shadow by the dim fire light. Everything that you could possibly imagine to be placed in an old mansion on the stage of an old movie set; this was what the room was. To her it was a peregrine place; and she wanted badly to know where she was and how she had gotten there. She still didn’t see the source of the voice.

“Where are you?” She asked the room, turning full circle again, opening all

of her senses in her search.

Out of the shadows stepped a beautiful man. He was lean and powerful, but, neither tall nor short; just shy of six feet. She thought he might be mid-thirties in age. He had lovely, loose golden waves of hair that curled at the ends and brushed the bottom of the collar of his shirt. The waves were neither true blonde, nor true brown, but like the burnished gold of a ring. His hair looked so soft and silky; her fingers ached to run through those waves. His eyes were large, thickly lashed, bright amber, just marginally darker than his curls, and gleamed with knowledge. His skin shown lightly tan in the firelight, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a day or so. He moved gradually and cautiously towards her as if she might vanish or run from him.

“Are you ready?” he asked her softly, hopefully, moving slowly forward. “Ready for what?” she replied with a question of her own, curiosity in

her voice. She took in his garments. A modern dress shirt, crisply white, expensive, unbuttoned, cufflinks long removed, loose and pulled from his pants, to hang from his broad shoulders, exposing the fact that he wasn’t wearing an undershirt. It was as if he had quickly thrown it on. She glimpsed the tanned skin of his chest with its light golden hairs through the gap, and a well-defined, muscled abdomen. Ebony dress slacks, and incongruously bare feet. He was relaxed, and his relaxation was infectious.

“Ready to come to me.” He verbalized simply, softly, his voice a soft tenor that vibrated through her body, setting off a wave of desire; she smelled cinnamon, ginger, and a hint of sandalwood. He now stood an arm’s length from her.

She looked up into those gorgeous amber eyes, reflecting the flames of the fire, and burst out laughing. His surprise was palpable, and he blinked in confusion.

“This is a dream,” she chuckled. “I am dreaming.” She expressed, suddenly relieved, nodding in agreement with herself, and then nodded more forcefully looking at him and smiling, as he shook his head negatively.

“No.” He slowly shook his head at her. “We are communicating. Our souls are speaking…” He said, gradually reaching towards her, obviously to pull her into his arms; the gap in his shirt widening to show a larger expanse of his well-defined chest and flat stomach, sparse golden hairs trailing into the waistband of his pants drawing her eyes downward.

“Yep.” She giggled. “A sex dream.”

“No, i psychí mou. I am not a dream.” He told her softly, touching the bare skin of her arms and his eyes widened in wonder and discovery.

As he ran his warm, soft, but slightly calloused hands cautiously up her arms, she was shocked into a state of apperception, and went quite still. Her teal-colored eyes widened also and locked with his amber ones. She was confident that she had never set eyes on him, but she was sure that she knew this man. Like she knew herself.

The Beginning: Chapter One

Leila woke to the sound of the radio, not wanting to leave the comfort of the bed, excuses she could use to not go to work floating through her mind. Lingering as the music droned on, she took her pillow and covered her face, trying to recover the dream that she had been having. It was a mistake.

She heard Michael’s voice as he gave her a rough shove, “Get up and turn that damn thing off!”

“Get up and do it yourself, asshole!” she thought but did as she was told. “If I didn’t set the alarm at night, your ass would be late every morning!” Her inner voice expounded silently.

She remembered the night before. Michael went to bed earlier than herself, as usual, not wanting sex. The only time he ever stayed up as late as she did was if he wanted to have sex.

She had come in after doing laundry, making sure he had a clean uniform for the morning. As she started to lay down, she glanced over at him and realized that he was pretending to be asleep, she then asked softly, “Did you set the alarm?”

He had snapped, “No! Leave me alone, I am trying to sleep!”

She had gotten up and set the alarm; knowing that if she didn’t, they would both be late to work, and he’d make her pay somehow. It had been another mistake to have even asked him. They went through the same routine at least four nights a week. Maybe she was hoping he would finally do something for himself, that something would change. She knew that doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different result was a sign of insanity, but there you have it. It kind of summed up her current relationship status! Her body ached. It was getting harder and harder to get up in the morning. She knew something was wrong with her. She was sure it had to be mental or physical problem, because in the evenings she felt wonderful; like she received a second boost of energy.

Even being around Michael in his normally bitchy moods each evening, she felt like she had more energy than ever! But when it came to getting up and facing another day, she just wanted to sleep and sleep. She had tried changing several things to feel better.

She tried going to bed early and force herself to sleep. She would sleep fitfully, until the early hours of the morning, and even with nine straight hours of rest under her belt she still could barely force herself out of bed. She knew it had to be some sort of depression, or maybe it was a chemical or hormonal imbalance? If the problem kept on much longer, she would be forced to see a doctor, and she hated going to the doctor!

Turning on the light above her vanity, pain flashed behind her eyes, as she squinted them against the glare. She looked over her right shoulder at the form of her husband on the bed; blankets pulled over his head, thinking, Lord knows I have a right to be depressed.

Running a brush through her short chestnut curls, she thought about the

disappointments of her four-year marriage. She had high hopes for them in the beginning, but secretly, she had harbored fears. It seemed that her fears were coming true.

She had never thought to marry again.

Her first marriage had occurred for all the wrong reasons. She had been young, not twenty-one, and wanted to be on her own, to escape from the confines of her family. Her first husband, Evan, had been in the Navy, and he was so handsome he made her hands sweat. But he was shallow, had no morals, and even less intelligence. She never genuinely loved him but had been blinded by his beauty and the exciting aspect of moving away and traveling the world; that excitement overshadowed everything else, and she had never bothered to get to know him well before she married him. The whole thing had been a mistake.

She had known Michael for almost 8 years now. He had been a friend of her ex-husband, and when they had lived in Connecticut in the same apartment complex, she had even introduced her girlfriends to him. He had been so nice and so smart; and when Evan started seeing other women, Michael was there for her. He became her best friend. Her anchor in a lonely choppy sea. Despite Evan’s infidelities, she made one last ditch effort to save her marriage and had moved to Georgia when he got stationed there. They bought a house and she honestly tried to work on her marriage and to forget the painful past, but it never ended, as the ever-increasing line of women just didn’t stop, she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. At the end, it was on her.

She walked away, despite Evan’s protests that he really wanted to stay together and work through it. Against her lawyer’s advice, she gave Evan everything except a few mementos and pieces of furniture in exchange for absolving her of the responsibility of her half of their marital bills. She figured that since he had created the whole of the debt and she couldn’t afford even half of it on her small salary, he could just have everything: debt included. She just wanted to pretend that it had never happened.

Then she met Michael again.

It’s a fact that if you are around the military long enough, sooner or later you run into the same people; though spread out worldwide, it is still after all a small community. Michael had made rank since she last saw him, he was now a First-Class Petty Officer. She didn’t know until after she started dating him, that their getting together wasn’t accidental.

Evan had seen Michael at a base softball game and had told him about their divorce. Bitter, in his own nasty way, Evan had told him, and everyone else within earshot, that he had always known that Michael had wanted to fuck Leila and here was his opportunity to have her. After all, he was sure that she wasn’t fucking anyone else, and now that Evan was through with her, she was available; Michael should look her up. Evan never guessed that Michael would do just that.

Only after Leila started dating Michael, did she find out that their meeting in the parking lot of the base Off-Crew building had been no accident. Michael had waited around a whole week hoping to “bump” into her either coming to or from her job in the administration building next door.

Leila wondered if she had been a pawn in a “get me-get you” game between the two men. She’d been upfront with what she thought was a truth at the time, telling Michael that she would never remarry. She wouldn’t go through that again with anyone. It was a childish statement. She was only twenty-five at the time; and she was far too young to be so cynical. Then she became pregnant.

Early in her marriage to Evan, she had found that birth control pills had made her violently ill. So, they had used other forms of contraception, or often, no contraception at all. She had secretly hoped having a baby would settle him down, but by the time her five-year marriage had ended she was convinced that she couldn’t become pregnant. An aunt on her father’s side was barren and she just assumed that she was like her. Michael had been convinced she was wrong.

Leila told Michael that even though she felt that she couldn’t have children, she wasn’t taking any chances and she wanted to use protection anyway. He kept telling her that he wanted to have kids, and at every opportunity would make spontaneous and passionate love to her. She truly hadn’t been concerned about getting pregnant, even when he would fail to use a condom, and would smile sadly when he would whisper in her ear while they were making love “Give me a baby.”

She remembered going to the walk-in Medical Center, after Michael had went to sea for a three-month tour, to find out what was wrong with her ‘this time’. The staff and doctor were used to her coming in as she had developed two yeast infections and had been treated for a urinary tract infection over a three-week period. When the clinic doctor had suggested doing a blood test to see if she was pregnant, she had laughed out loud. “Go ahead, but I really don’t think that’s the problem!”

She had fainted as soon as the nurse had taken the blood sample. When she came to, she told the nurse, “I’m pregnant.”

“Dear,” the nurse replied. “We haven’t even done the test yet.”

“I don’t care, I know I’m pregnant! I never faint when I give blood.” Leila had said to the nurse with wide eyes.

Sure enough, she was pregnant. She was halfway between depression and elation. After believing that she couldn’t have children, the opportunity of bringing her child into the world was wonderful but on the other hand, she didn’t want to remarry. Her divorce had only been final for a couple of months, even though she had been separated for nearly two years, and she was not ready to get remarried.

Her parents wanted her to come home to Iowa. Especially her father. “You can come home, and we will help you.” he had told her when she called

them with the news.

She couldn’t bring herself to do it. A fighter throughout her life, she wasn’t used to tucking tail and running. Besides, with Michael out to sea she hadn’t even had the opportunity to tell him. Even though she expected him to be supportive of her, she still had a small doubt in that secret place in her heart. Telephone service being impossible on a submarine, she couldn’t come right out and tell him she was pregnant. But the limited communication messages, called familygrams, were not private.

After all he was a single man. The ship’s captain could decide that this type

of news to one of his single crew members might be unduly stressful for him and hold the familygram until the end of the cruise. She and a girlfriend devised a code to try to indicate to Michael that she was pregnant. In one familygram she had wrote that she had quit smoking. In another she had written that she had started a walking program. In yet another she had stated that she had started a health food diet. All the while hoping that he would read between the lines.

Feeling totally unprepared, she bought several books on pregnancy and

child rearing. Having never been the ‘babysitter’ type of teenager; she knew her experience was lacking. With no family in the state, she was doing her best to educate herself on what to expect.

She was reading her books one evening when the phone rang. “Hello,” she answered expecting it to be one of her friends.

“Hey babe, we came in early.” Came Michael’s deep voice.

“Hi.” Her voice was almost frozen with nervousness.

“Well, come get me. I am at the Explosive Handling Wharf.”

“Okay.” she said quickly hanging up the phone with shaking hands, forgetting to even tell him goodbye.

Heart hammering in her chest, her thoughts flew. Did he receive the familygrams? Did he pick up on the messages and realize what she was trying to tell him? What was his reaction going to be? She drove the mile and a half to the back gate of the base and showed her employment badge to the guard there. Driving through the gates she headed toward lower base and the restricted area.

Due to her job duties in the Communications-Information Technology Department, she had access to get clear down to the submarines themselves. Showing her badge again to the gate guard at the controlled area she drove her red 1991 Mustang through to the EHW. Michael, standing with three other sailors, was dressed in blue dungarees, the working uniform of a submarine First Class Petty Officer and below. Leila always thought that the uniform made them look like prison convicts.

Leaning in the window of the car, Michael said, “Pop the hatch.”

She did, and he and the other men loaded their ‘sea bags’ into the back. Well, at least he doesn’t seem like anything is wrong, Leila thought, watching as they packed themselves into the car.

“These guys live in the apartment complex next door; you don’t mind if we give them a ride, do you?” he asked as he leaned over and kissed her warmly. Shaking her head, she turned the car around heading off the base, not saying anything for the short drive back to the apartment. She couldn’t even bring herself to greet the three men in the back of her car as she was becoming

more nervous by the minute.

The men all thanked her as she dropped them off at their building. She and Michael still didn’t speak as she drove toward his apartment building. When she had parked the car in front of the building, and turned off the engine, he finally spoke.

“Well, are you pregnant?” he had asked softly.

“Yes.” Taking a deep breath she replied simply, facing forward with her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, awaiting his reaction.

“I guess you’ll have to marry me now.” He had stated victoriously, almost like winning a contest and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He still didn’t know how much that statement had rankled her.

Back in the present, she looked at her reflection in the mirror smiling wryly. That had been almost four years ago. Since then, their son Zachary was born, then came their second son Devin, now nine months old. Michael made the decision that he didn’t want any more children, since he had his ‘heir and a spare’, and regardless of Leila’s thoughts and desires, had gotten a vasectomy three months ago.

Since marrying him, Leila found Michael to be cold, uncommunicative, easily angered, and totally dismissive of her thoughts and desires. He could often be downright nasty.

She tried excusing his behavior due to life pressures. After all, they had been married the day after her 26th birthday in a small ceremony at the justice of the peace, with little fanfare and a short weekend honeymoon to Orlando, FL. Then they had bought a house together a month later, and he returned to Sea Duty less than a month after that. Leila gave birth to Zachary, a small curly-haired, blue-eyed, smiling baby via an emergency C-section a few months later.

Leila’s mother was there with her, but he wasn’t. Michael found out about the birth of his first born, via familygram – the same way that he had found out about her pregnancy. He was angry that she had named their son Zachary David, when he had told her that he had wanted to name him Brian after some cousin that she had never met.

After everything that she had went through with her C-section, she felt that she had the right to name the baby. But, most especially after he had made the two months that they spent together before Zachary was born a nightmare for her. He bullied and tried to control every aspect of her pregnancy from her diet to her maternity clothes, nothing she did was ever good enough, for the first time, she was happy to have him leave for sea.

So many things had happened throughout their marriage.  It seemed throughout the four years that they were together that he was rarely around on any of their marital milestones. He was always out to sea.

Before Zachary was a year old, Michael was promoted to Chief Petty Officer. With the promotion came more responsibility and the transfer from the sea environment to a shore environment at the Submarine Squadron. Though he frequently rotated with another Chief at the Squadron, he still spent a minimum of one-week per month at sea riding one of the eight Trident submarines to perform inspections.

She then became pregnant again and had their second son Devin, a bright- eyed little demon of a baby, exactly thirty months and a week, after Zachary had been born. Devin was active, colicky, and was the polar-opposite of his brother! Zachary laughed and smiled and knew no strangers! They could take him anywhere and everyone loved him. Devin, on the other hand, hated everyone and everything except for his Mommy, and made any outing a miserable occasion! Leila frequently joked with her mother on their weekly phone call, “If we had Devin first, we would not have had two!”

Last month, Michael had come up for promotion to Senior Chief Petty Officer but surprisingly, wasn’t promoted. Being so smart and working so hard for perfection in his job, Michael’s ego had taken a blow. Leila wasn’t concerned at all because he had been making rank ahead of schedule, but Michael was miserable to be around most days now and was determined to live at the job to make Senior Chief, regardless of the pressure it placed on Leila to basically raise their two sons by herself.

Overall, there had been a whirlwind of activity for Michael in the last

four years, and she believed he had a right to be edgy. Having a new family, children, new home, job promotion worries, in such a short period of time were all stress factors in anyone’s life.

But the winds of change had been whirling around her also, and despite everything, she was positive that she had never intentionally treated him shabbily, while he seemed to take every stress or disappointment out on her. Shaking her head, she moved to put these thoughts out of her mind. She knew if she didn’t control her expressions, he would take offense in some way and make sure her day got lousier before she made it out the door to head to work.

After showering, she finished curling her chestnut-colored hair, and applying makeup to her lightly freckled face, and shadow and liner to her teal-blue-grey eyes. While her head was starting to throb, the skin on her arms started itching like crazy, so she applied some skin cream thinking that she must be getting a bad case of dry skin. She took a couple Tylenols to head off the headache and watched Michael get out of bed in the mirror. His naked body could still make her heart race, even with all the bad things that had passed between them.

She quickly looked back at her own reflection. He didn’t like her to look at him that way and if he caught her at it, he would make a nasty remark to her. He was self-conscious about his body. At thirty he was slightly overweight and well on his way to being bald, but she still thought he was sexy.

After two children she wasn’t perfect herself. Who is? Unless you have the money and time for a personal trainer and surgery. Still, she would have given almost anything to have him look at her the way she looked at him; the way he use to look at her.

She dressed herself in a beige skirt and a flowered faux vest with short, capped sleeves, patterned in soft pink roses with khaki green leaves on a cream and beige background. There was a lace inset with a deep V for a neckline and faux Pearl buttons set off with a gold tone braid border around each one.

She had made some dramatic changes in the past couple of months. Her clothing was one of them.

Everyone in her office was surprised at this change. She had wore casual clothing, made for a much older woman for so long that people had almost forgotten what a pretty, young woman she was. Now she dressed in more age-appropriate clothing with a dressy business sense. Part of the changes were because she wanted a promotion, very badly.

She had been due for a promotion since she had transferred to the Information Systems side of the Department three years before and had taken on greater responsibilities. But even she had to admit that no matter how exemplary her performance was, her dress and attitude didn’t warrant a higher grade.

Being so tired, and even restless, much of her time, she had felt an overwhelming need to change her life. To become something different. Though she wasn’t sure what or why. Still, she felt like there was something inside struggling to get out, like a butterfly battling to break free of its cocoon. Many times, throughout her life she had felt the need be free, but until recently there had been too much fear, too much shyness, too much reluctance to draw attention to herself. She had been too afraid that what made her feel

good, would be mocked by other people. Mostly by Michael.

Now, she just didn’t care what other people thought. She had been doing things to give pleasure to herself and it made her feel good to have people notice her, both professionally and personally. She never got any compliments at home, only criticism, so the compliments from her fellow employees made up for that.

Recently it seemed that she had more influence at work also. She wasn’t sure if it was the clothes or the attitude, but that felt good too. It was as if she were more intuitive of other people and better able to make decisions that both were right and satisfied others in the process.

“Well, almost everyone.” Leila thought as she packed Devin’s diaper bag for the trip to daycare.” I can never really catch a break with Michael, he’s absolutely never satisfied.”

Unbreakable in his opinions, Michael was always critical of others though never critical of himself.  Sometimes the silence between them after the kids went to bed was deafening. She wanted so badly to tell him her feelings. Maybe talk to him and in the talking figure out why she had the overwhelming need to change in the first place. But anytime she tried to talk he was busy, or in a bad mood, or was watching some sort of sports broadcast on television and couldn’t be bothered. When she tried speaking to him about not taking part in their family life, he always turned the conversation around on her and acted like she was crazy and needy because he wouldn’t make any time for her or the kids. Somewhere after the marriage vows, he had become her husband but was no longer her friend.

After she made major changes in her dress and appearance, Michael started to watch her closely. Even going so far as to accuse her of having a boyfriend. She had scoffed at him. Like she had time for a boyfriend while basically being a single parent!

Smirking to herself she remembered the look on his face when she had dramatically cut her hair short. In all the years he had known her, she had never gone shorter than a few inches below her shoulders. Now her thick hair was short and curly, layered away from her face, and just brushing past the collar of her shirt. Her hair was a deep auburn-chestnut, with a touch of flame in her highlights. She loved her shorter hair. She felt right, lighter somehow, more herself; not like she felt before like she was at a masquerade; forever trying to satisfy someone else’s thoughts and desires.

Walking into the garage to put the diaper bag in the car, she noticed the glow of the rising sun. Moving to the front of the garage she paused to admire the golds and the pinks. She loved sunrises and sunsets. Standing just at the edge of the open garage door, when the light touched her body, she experienced the most searing, blinding, intense heat, and the pain staggered her. Thrusting her hand out to steady herself she clutched at the trunk of her charcoal grey 4-door Honda Accord, her new sensible ‘Mom’ car that Michael had insisted that she buy, selling off her cute Mustang. It was just another of one of her compromises that she had made to maintain the peace in her household.

As the light from the rising sun creeped up, touching more of the exposed

skin of her body, the agony driving her down. The last thing she thought as she watched in slow motion the pavement coming closer was “Dummy, you should have been wearing your sunglasses.” She made a final attempt to catch herself with her hands as the blackness inked out the flaming pain.