wideeyedone
Baby did a bad, bad thing
- Joined
- Jan 5, 2007
- Posts
- 7,070
Christine Hamilton stood on the deck of the ferry. Her dark hair whipped against her face, but her eyes were hidden behind her large, dark glasses. February was off season and the island of Nantucket would only be occupied by the locals. And that was just what she wanted. She didn't want to see anyone that she knew. She didn't want to have to refuse one more invitation, or listen to anyone else chide her sympathetically. Everywhere she went people looked at her with pity, or with a gleam of opportunistic hunger. The vultures knew she was vulnerable.
She was a widow. The word still seemed foreign to her. She had just gotten used to the word wife. She had never pictured herself with someone like Tom. And then when she had tumbled into Tom's life and Tom's bed, she never imagined herself being alone again.
Tom Hamilton was the sort of man that normally resided on the pages of paperback romance novels. He was the heir to an old textile fortune, that he grew investing in innovative technology. He gave a great deal of his wealth away. His focused area of philanthropy was improving educational opportunities for low income children. He was tall and good looking. He had a broad smile, and just the beginnings of crows' feet. His dark hair was shot with just a little silver at his temples. He was a sought after bachelor into his forties.
No one predicted that he would fall head over heels for the 28 year old director of the Momentum Center for Young Children. He met Christine when he came to see the playground that he had paid for. She was climbing the playscape with the children and he couldn't help but join her. He had wined and dined her. Her picture ended up on the gossip pages. He proposed with a ring from Cartier. But that wasn't what impressed her. It was the way he kissed her. The way he held her upper arms hard enough to make her feel as if he owned her.
Before Tom, Christine had considered herself hard as nails. She had grown up in foster care and worked her way through college. She was passionate and devoted to her work. She stayed at work too late, usually ate at her desk, and spent most of her free time reading and recovering from her long work hours.
But behind closed doors she was a whole new woman with him. No one would have known to look at him, but his love was fierce and dominant. He owned her body and soul and his desire was consuming. He wanted his girl by his side. He wanted to be the center of her world. At night she would sit at his feet with her cheek against his knee and his hands in her hair.
But that was gone. It was all shattered. Tom had died in a car accident. The funeral had been four months ago and she still felt hollow inside. Aside from the staff in their Manhattan penthouse, she hadn't spent time with people. Some days she didn't leave her bed. She would sit in the bathtub and cry until the water was so cold she couldn't stand it. Her voicemail box was full. Her mail was unopened. All she wanted was to sleep and wake up to a different reality. One where Tom was still with her. She knew she had to snap out of it. Tom wouldn't want her to wallow, he would want her to keep on the work of his foundation and enjoy her life. But she just wasn't ready.
So, she was on the ferry. Going back to his Nantucket summer house. They had spent their honeymoon there. She needed to go back, to sleep in the bed where he had promised to love her forever. She wanted to watch the surf pound on the shore and feel the mist against her skin. Maybe if she could remember, is she could touch the places they had been together, she would get better. She promised herself that this trip would be the end of her wallowing.
She was a widow. The word still seemed foreign to her. She had just gotten used to the word wife. She had never pictured herself with someone like Tom. And then when she had tumbled into Tom's life and Tom's bed, she never imagined herself being alone again.
Tom Hamilton was the sort of man that normally resided on the pages of paperback romance novels. He was the heir to an old textile fortune, that he grew investing in innovative technology. He gave a great deal of his wealth away. His focused area of philanthropy was improving educational opportunities for low income children. He was tall and good looking. He had a broad smile, and just the beginnings of crows' feet. His dark hair was shot with just a little silver at his temples. He was a sought after bachelor into his forties.
No one predicted that he would fall head over heels for the 28 year old director of the Momentum Center for Young Children. He met Christine when he came to see the playground that he had paid for. She was climbing the playscape with the children and he couldn't help but join her. He had wined and dined her. Her picture ended up on the gossip pages. He proposed with a ring from Cartier. But that wasn't what impressed her. It was the way he kissed her. The way he held her upper arms hard enough to make her feel as if he owned her.
Before Tom, Christine had considered herself hard as nails. She had grown up in foster care and worked her way through college. She was passionate and devoted to her work. She stayed at work too late, usually ate at her desk, and spent most of her free time reading and recovering from her long work hours.
But behind closed doors she was a whole new woman with him. No one would have known to look at him, but his love was fierce and dominant. He owned her body and soul and his desire was consuming. He wanted his girl by his side. He wanted to be the center of her world. At night she would sit at his feet with her cheek against his knee and his hands in her hair.
But that was gone. It was all shattered. Tom had died in a car accident. The funeral had been four months ago and she still felt hollow inside. Aside from the staff in their Manhattan penthouse, she hadn't spent time with people. Some days she didn't leave her bed. She would sit in the bathtub and cry until the water was so cold she couldn't stand it. Her voicemail box was full. Her mail was unopened. All she wanted was to sleep and wake up to a different reality. One where Tom was still with her. She knew she had to snap out of it. Tom wouldn't want her to wallow, he would want her to keep on the work of his foundation and enjoy her life. But she just wasn't ready.
So, she was on the ferry. Going back to his Nantucket summer house. They had spent their honeymoon there. She needed to go back, to sleep in the bed where he had promised to love her forever. She wanted to watch the surf pound on the shore and feel the mist against her skin. Maybe if she could remember, is she could touch the places they had been together, she would get better. She promised herself that this trip would be the end of her wallowing.
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