....by Rhonda L. Nolan

Daylight.

Thousands of birds greeted her with late morning rays creeping around the shades.

A day like any other day, she thought.

No, it wasn't! As she rubbed her eyes, she felt a small knot form in her stomach. It was Sunday, and that meant Valentine's Day.

She was glad not to be alone. There was something about waking up with a warm body that she treasured. The soft, rhythmic sounds of his breathing reassured her that all was well. His head was halfway on her pillow, and she was grateful for the closeness. She moved closer to him, rubbing her hands through the wisps at the top of his head and stroking his tummy, as she knew he enjoyed in the morning. After burying her face in the strawberry blonde softness, she kissed his nose. Slowly his large golden eyes opened, and stared at her with a drowsy expression all his own.

He opened his mouth wide and yawned. She watched in amusement as he stretched his arms and legs out before her. Then Dexter opened his mouth and out spilled his first commentary on the 14th of February. Meow!

As much as she enjoyed sleeping in with her cat on Sundays, there was no time to waste if she was to prepare for a beautiful romantic evening for her lover, Sweetie.

---

She'd originally wanted to serve his favorite cuisine. He delighted in French cooking and had taken her to several exquisite restaurants in the last few months, introducing her to myriad delicacies and oral treasures. But French was really not an option. How could she, an indifferent cook, compete with the chefs at restaurants that refused to list prices on the menus? At least she never saw any prices. No, it would have to be pasta! Her grandmother was a Sicilian immigrant who'd given her several family recipes she'd mastered after years of practice.

At the grocery store, she picked up a box of angel hair pasta with strands as fine as his sun-streaked, light brown hair. Grandmother's homemade pesto sauce would be the perfect complement to lightly grilled marinated lemon chicken. She made an exquisite Caesar Salad with garlic croutons, and a warm loaf of her Italian garlic bread would complete the meal.

Sweetie will love this, she thought.

Tiramitsu or chocolate mousse? Homemade apple pie was his favorite, and although it didn't match the rest of the menu, she opted for it anyway. It's all for Sweetie. Exotic cheese and crackers adorned by red grapes provided a simple and succulent appetizer. Her wine selection was simple: a fine French Chardonnay for him and Italian Merlot for her. It was always the same each time they dined.

She picked up a fresh bouquet of exotic flowers to put in her basket. She loved tropical flowers - the more wild and colorful, the better. Sweetie will bring me delicate pink roses, beautifully wrapped in a clear bow-tied box, as he always does. She took a deep breath in anticipation of what the evening would be like, much more than a celebration of food, wine and roses. Tonight she would have him all to herself. And that was enough!

It was already one o'clock and Sweetie was coming over at seven. He was under the mistaken impression they were going out to dinner and a film tonight, as they always did. He would be pleasantly surprised by her efforts. "What you lack in the kitchen, you make up for ten-fold in the bedroom, my love," he'd softly whispered in her ear one recent evening.

Finally, everything was in progress in the kitchen. The bedroom beckoned. Even though they were eating at home, she wanted to look her best. He liked her in black, so she chose a simple elegant dress with a tastefully low cut neckline and long beaded sleeves. It was straight and came down to just above her knees, but if she raised her hands far enough in the air, it would reveal just enough of her sheer silk stockings to tantalize him when the time was ripe.

As the sun set lazily in the sky, she'd realized how much of the day was already gone. Thanks goodness for the mild southern weather that made it possible for them to dine outdoors. She had set up a cozy table for two in the back yard, covered with an elegant white tablecloth. It went so well with her bone china and she topped it off with two long, tapered candles sheathed by crystal candlesticks. As she brought out the bouquet of wild flowers, she noticed that the moon would be full tonight, shining directly on the table.

She poured herself a glass of wine and drew a hot bath with the lavender scented bubble bath that Sweetie had given her as a gift. She bathed in the dark, dim glow of six candles placed strategically around the bathroom. The first time Sweetie had ever made love to her was in a bathtub surrounded by candles. She slid into the warm water, feeling the tension of the day's activities gently ease out of her body. Cooking was rough work, she thought, remembering all those years her mother would complain about toiling in the kitchen. This time was special.

She lay tranquil in the warm soapy water, shutting her eyes and imagining how the evening might unfold.

---

Sweetie rang the doorbell. He always arrived between five and ten minutes late. Not too early to interrupt her preparations, but not too tardy to make her anxious. He gasped at the sight. How exquisite she looked this evening! He also was dashing in a stylish jacket, shoulders adorned by golden locks with bright eyes shining. As always, he held a bouquet of beautifully wrapped pink long-stemmed roses. He was smiling as if he'd just won the lottery.

"Thank you, Sweetie," she said flirtatiously as she took the flowers. "You shouldn't have, but I am glad you did."

She served the wine and cheese while they sat in front of an unlit fireplace with a dozen assorted candles. Sweetie leaned over and kissed her fragrant hair. He could see the reflection of flames in her eyes, although the only fire was deep inside her soul.

They sipped their wine, sitting close to one another on the elegant couch. She picked up a large grape that seemed to be bursting out of its skin with the reddish hue of her lips and licked it. She placed it gently between his teeth. Then he took another grape and popped it in his mouth ever so lightly. As he bent over to kiss her, he opened his mouth slightly and let the grape slide slowly into her parted lips

He asked if she was ready for dinner and she shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

"Sweetie, I need to go powder my nose. There is a large plant in the backyard I would like moved inside, would you mind?"

"A plant, now? Can it wait until after we get home from dinner?"

"Sweetie, please?" She batted her large, soft puppy-dog eyes whose pleadings he could never refuse.

"Okay." He grabbed and kissed her. "I love you. Happy Valentine's Day."

She smiled and said nothing.

Sweetie went outside into the backyard. Suddenly he came back into the house with a wide grin.

"This is unbelievable. Oh, it's incredible. Did I tell you that I love you?"

Minutes later, dinner was served under the full moon, star-filled skies and infinite heavens. They didn't eat much, because neither of them was particularly anxious for food. When she brought out the sweet smelling apple pie, he had tears in his eyes.

"How did you do it?" he asked.

"Well, I followed the instructions in the cookbook. The edges are a little burnt, and I hope the apples aren't too crunchy," she laughed.

"Hun," he said, "If this thing were black and on fire, I would eat it whole because it came from your hands."

"Let's skip dessert," he whispered. "Would you like to dance?" They alighted to Chopin's Nocturne, holding each other tightly, barely swaying, with nature surrounding them like a blanket of romantic bliss.

Sweetie kissed her slowly and looked deep inside her deep, dark eyes. He spoke words that he had never spoken before, words that took her breath away, phrases that were carved into her heart, and imprinted on her soul.

"Thank you. I will never forget tonight. Most of all, I want you to know some things. I have never met anyone else like you.

"You are so special to me. You have never played games with me and for that I am grateful. You opened up your heart to me and unconditionally loved me without regret. I will never forget what you have given me."

"I have learned so much from you, but most of all, I have learned how to love. You are all love, and to meet someone with such a capacity to give love as you do is a rare gift. I am lucky that I was given this opportunity once in my lifetime. In my heart, there will always be a special place for you. Always remember that."

They made passionate love under the Magnolia tree while a cool southern winter breeze blew through their hair. Her nails dug into his back like a famished tiger desperately, yet lovingly grasping its kill to devour it in one bite. She felt the warm touch of his skin melt into hers, and she absorbed his love like a thirsty sponge sucking every ounce of desire out of him as though it were his last breath of life.

---

She sat straight up in the tub and opened her eyes. Sweetie would be here in thirty minutes and she was running late!

She hurriedly dried off her body and her hair, and then slowly rubbed rose scented body lotion all over her legs and arms so she would smell faintly of the flowers he would bear at the door.

The bread was warming in the oven as she threw on her dress and carefully pulled a silk stocking over each leg, slowly enjoying the smooth feel of the fabric as it enveloped the rich fullness of her thighs. She rummaged frantically for her pumps in the back of the closet, knowing that the time was near. A simple pearl necklace would go well with the black dress. She adorned her long curly lashes with lush black mascara and filled in her plump lips with a deep garnet color. Finally she pinned her long tresses loosely on top of her hair, allowing for a few errant tendrils to spill over her face and down the nape of her neck, where his kisses would soon disturb them.

It was seven o'clock. Sweetie was on his way. Any minute, she would see the familiar car lights turn into her driveway. One last quick check, and everything was perfect. She poured a glass of red wine for herself and a white for him before going outside. Once both glasses were on table, it was time to light the candles. The setting appeared to be surrounded by an aura of hazy light that she'd seen before only in her dreams.

She sat in the chair delicately holding the glass of wine as rich, red, and full-bodied as the lips he had so often kissed in her mind.

She toasted the glass of white that sat in front of the empty chair.

Sweetie's chair.

In the darkness, she could almost faintly see his slender silhouette. Minutes ticked away as she stared silently into the empty space hoping she could get a glimpse. . . hoping she would hear his voice . . . hoping he would magically . . . hoping . . .

Finally she held her glass up in the air.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

She sipped slowly, sitting alone until the moon set and the sun rose on the table.

She didn't mind. It was all for Sweetie.