“We’ll be together always,” he said it her as much as tohimself. “I promise to take care of you. I won’t let anything badhappen to you.” As he spoke, he kissed her on both cheeks, on thenose and then on the lips, savouring the quiet of their room beforethe tumult of the day’s activities could crash through their warmcocoon.
After amoment, he slid off her. She turned, resting her head on hisshoulder, her hand on his chest, pondering the sweet sentiment ofhis words. “I’ll keep you safe, too, Crispin,” she whisperedpensively.
He tightenedhis arms around her in response. She was a balm to his soul and heloved her for knowing what to say just when he needed to hear it.With every little breathy whisper, she nestled further into hisheart.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, stroking his fingers throughher hair. Even after she had fully reassured him that his unsavourypast hadn’t changed her opinion of him, he couldn’t help but worry.A part of him would always worry, he sadly realized. Especiallywhen all this seemed too good to be true.
She struggledfor composure but lost the battle. “Oh, Crispin. I can’t… I just… Ican’t seem to get it out of my mind.”
“What?” he asked, bracing himself for the worst. Had shedecided he wasn’t worth the bother? Had she come to the realizationthat his past was too pathetic? Would she always look onto him withpity?
She perched upon his chest and stared at him with glistening eyes. “How is itpossible that you survived into adulthood without being loved? Areyou sure no one loved you, even just a little bit? I find it sohard to accept.” When he didn’t respond, she rested her forehead onhis chest and let out a sorrowful sob. She couldn’t hold him anytighter if she tried. “You must have, surely, there must have beensomeone. You can’t have become who you are without a trace ofit.”
He breathed asigh of relief. Her concern touched him deeply. In the next moment,he braced himself for what he was about to say. It was something hehadn’t thought about for so long or rather someone… “You are right.There was one.”
“Really?” Gwen held her breath and perched up on his chest onceagain. “Who?”
“Maria.”
“Maria?” she repeated in anticipation. “Tell me abouther.”
“I was seven.” As he spoke, Crispin ran a hand through Gwen’stangled web of dark hair. “I had just been placed into anotherfoster home with a family. It was to be the longest stint of time Iwould ever have in one place.”
“Tell me about Maria.” Gwen was curious and anxious to hearabout this woman. Maria must have played a major key role inCrispin’s formative years. “Was she the mother?”
Crispin smiledas he spoke next. “Grandmother, very old, in fact. When I thinkabout it, I strongly believe she suffered from borderlineAlzheimer’s. Anyway, she lived with the family. I don’t rememberthe actual parents too well. I know they were always so busy. Therewere other kids around too. When I arrived, I was there a few days,just existing as I had come to do, when for some reason, Maria tooka shine to me. She saw me, really saw me. Something about me drewher out of herself and in return I responded to her. She made mefeel special. For the first time in my life, I felt I had someoneon my side. At night, I often snuck into her room and slept withher. She made me feel safe. Told me I was special. She found mecrying one day, hiding in her room. The other kids were teasing mebecause I was always sickly. They said I was a weakling and no onewould ever want to keep me.”
“Aww…”
“She asked me why I was crying. I told her what they’d said. Itold her I had a sick heart. That’s what I called it at my age. Itold her no one would ever want me because nobody wanted a boy witha sick heart.”
“What did she say?”
“She took me in her arms, sat me on her lap and said in herheavy European accent, “Crispin, yourheart is no sick.” Gwen let out a smallgiggle at his imitation of Maria’s accent and nodded for him tocontinue.
“When I asked her why I was so weak, she told me it was becauseI was heartsick,” he said with a fond smile. “Huge differenceapparently.”
“Heartsick?”
“Yes, she explained it was why I caught so many colds andchildhood illnesses. She said it was because I was lonely andneglected, deprived of unconditional love of which only a mothercould give. But then she told me she loved me and said I would neverbe sick again. And you know, even after she died not long after,and I got moved yet again, I rarely got sick ever. All my childhoodillnesses vanished with her words. It’s like she lifted it allaway.”
“That’s a beautiful story, Crispin.” Gwen wiped her eyes. “See,I knew there had to be someone.”
“Yeah, for five minutes, I had someone. Aren’t Ilucky?”
“Maria gave you hope.” Gwen took his face between her palms.“Showed you kindness and love.”
“I suppose,” Crispin said. “I’m glad it makes you feelbetter.”
“It does. God knows it does, and you shouldn’t downplay iteither. She opened your heart. Gave you the ability to love inreturn.”
“Think so?” Crispin quirked an eyebrow.
“Yes, I really do. It’s why you’re able to love me and trust mewith your tender heart. It’s why you haven’t given uphope.”
“My tender heart,” he snickered at the term.
Ignoring him,she continued, “Because trust requires faith, and where there isfaith you find hope, and where there is hope you find love.”
“There you go again, my little poet,” he said, drawing her infor a kiss on the lips. “Here I thought I was thesongwriter.”
***
In the morningwhile sharing the cramped shower, Gwen took the lead and made it apoint to look after Crispin. She could tell he was
