Re: Ghosts - ch.60 (The End) -- The Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman Fan Exchange

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: [1], 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 16:12:11 05/10/03 Sat
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Ghosts - ch.60 (The End)
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Re: Ghosts - ch.59" on 15:55:37 05/09/03 Fri

CHAPTER SIXTY

Michaela sat beneath the dazzling, star-laden sky, which hung suspended over the Valley of Fire. How it reminded her of all of the glorious evenings she'd spent with Sully, sitting out on the steps of the homestead.

Whenever she'd been troubled about a patient, or one of the children, those moments of shared reflection under the heavens never failed to provide the replenishing comfort she sought.

Unable to bring her the cup of tea she so often enjoyed, Sully sat down beside her on the rugged, trailside bench and offered his company, instead.

His beautiful wife was lost in her reveries, the stethoscope Peter had given her still hanging from her neck. "You plannin' on wearin' this forever?" Sully's adoring blue eyes twinkled as he tugged playfully on her new gift.

"Hmmm? What? Oh, Sully�I was just thinking�" she mused, finally taking notice of his arrival.

"I could tell�" Sully chuckled, giving her a very distracting kiss. "'Bout what?" he wondered, encouraging her to voice her concerns.

"Oh, about everything that's happened, I suppose," she sighed.

"I'll have to tell Hank�" No matter how often she'd done it, breaking the news of a loved one's death was never easy.

"I'll do it," Sully decided firmly.

"You?" Michaela certainly hadn't expected that.

"Yeah," Sully nodded, hoping Michaela wouldn't object. Hank needed to hear the news from someone who wouldn't expect any emotions from him that he wasn't ready - or able - to give. Sully had been there himself, more than once.

"Man to man, you mean," she understood completely.

"Now, Michaela, that don't mean you couldn't�" Knowing his wife, Sully was prepared for a lecture on how she was just as capable of delivering the news as stoically as any man.

Instead, she interrupted simply, "I agree."

Stunned, Sully stared at her in puzzlement and worry. "You do?"

"It does happen sometimes, you know," she smiled wanly, seeking the warmth of his embrace.

Nestling her close, Sully listened as Michaela shared her melancholy.

"I wish we could have done more for her, Sully," she said softly, saddened by Ivy's destiny.

"We did the best we could. Hank'll know that," he held her tight.

"To think, this all started in the winter of '67�" Michaela could hardly believe the events of over a century ago could have led to such lasting ramifications.

But, with a smile, Sully knew otherwise. "It was a memorable winter," he whispered into her hair, the tone of his voice immediately reminding her.

"My first winter in Colorado Springs," she gazed up at him lovingly.

"Our first Christmas�"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"The kids're asleep�" Awkwardly, Sully closed the curtain and joined Michaela in warming his hands by the fire. They stood, side-by-side, each staring into the flames, thinking it best for their eyes not to meet.

Michaela hadn't been alone with a man, in her home, in such an intimate setting, since before David had died. Yet, it felt surprisingly right, to have Sully there, beside her.

He should have left hours ago. He knew it. But the nervousness he'd felt at being part of a family again had faded with every laugh, with every smile, with every touch�until he hadn't wanted to leave�hadn't wanted the evening to end. It was the best Christmas he'd had in a very long time.

"Thank you for telling Brian that bedtime story," Michaela blurted, turning toward him for just a moment before her eyes returned to the safety of the flames. "I doubt he would have ever gone to sleep otherwise," she smiled.

"He's a good boy," Sully spoke fondly. The two had a special bond already, Michaela knew.

"The puppy was a wonderful gift. Thank you." Relaxing, she met his gaze fully. "All the gifts were just wonderful�"

When she smiled at him like that, Sully's heart pounded louder than an Apache war drum. Michaela Quinn, M.D. He'd carved her name with care. She had the most beautiful long, brown hair he had ever seen. And, while he knew she possessed the healing power of a medicine woman, tonight, in the glow of the firelight, he saw her only as - a woman.

Much too warm, Sully stepped away from the fire and filled the silence. "Uh, maybe I should git goin'?"

"Of course, let me get your coat�" Sully watched, bemused, as Michaela pivoted toward the tattered poncho she'd so charitably referred to as his coat, and tried her best to act the part of a proper Bostonian hostess.

Unfortunately, in her nervousness, she managed to catch her heel in one of the cabin's loose floorboards.

Losing her balance, she was headed straight for the floor when he caught her in his arms. Gently, he steadied her, their eyes meeting. Once again, the fireplace seemed to be giving off a great deal of heat.

"Careful," he warned, so intently that Michaela held her breath. "That's what happens when ya have too much eggnog�"

Mesmerized, Michaela clung to his strong arms. Sully's lips were so close. He was so close� They hadn't been this close since that night in Black Kettle's teepee.

Alone with Sully - again - Michaela's thoughts of David receded further. What was it about this man, that in just a few short months, Michaela not only thought of him as a friend, but as so much more?

Was he thinking the same thing about her, she wondered, fleetingly, relieved she hadn't hung any mistletoe for the holiday.

Recovering her composure, Michaela pulled away, smoothing at her dress. "I did not have too much eggnog," she balked, taking his insinuation far too seriously.

"But, perhaps, maybe, it is time for bed�" she rambled, before realizing how brazen her innocent announcement might sound.

Stopping short, she began to blush profusely, as Sully's eyes narrowed with thoughts she didn't dare imagine.

"Oh, what I�what I meant to say was�uh�" she continued desperately, as a tiny crinkle formed at the corner of his mouth.

Wordlessly, Sully reached for his cape, draping it high around his shoulders. "I'll stop by and fix that floorboard tomorrow�" he informed her casually, heading for the door. "Thanks for supper."

"No�thank you�" she sputtered, finally calming enough to say clearly, "Thank you for everything."

Bracing himself for the cold, Sully opened the cabin door, turning back for one last look at the hearth and home he'd mourned as lost for good.

A fire burned there again. A fire burned in his heart now, too.

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Mike," he wished her, with a simple nod goodbye.

A thousand words on her lips, Michaela couldn't manage one. With an inexplicable pang of regret, she watched, silently, as he left.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Sully," she whispered, too late, her hand brushing against the door as it closed shut.

Sully drew his hood high over his head and paused, certain he'd heard her. Peering in the window, he caught one last, unseen, glance as she stoked the fire. Who was this woman - so strong she could stand in front of a charging army, yet so vulnerable she could barely stand in his arms?

Touching the icy pane lightly, he sighed.

"Merry Christmas, Michaela�"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"We gotta go, Michaela�" Sully knew their time had, once again, come to an end.

Begging him with her eyes, she asked, "Just tonight, please?"

"One more night in the woods, for old times sake, ya mean?" Sully grinned.

"It is beautiful out here," Michaela snuggled closer.

"Okay, c'mon, let's go�" Abruptly, Sully stood and tugged her along.

"Go? Go where?" she asked, startled. In her estimation, their bench had been perfectly cozy.

"When I was out here before, with Peter," Sully confessed, as they walked, hand in hand. "I went lookin' fer a waterfall�"

Intrigued, Michaela hugged his arm. "And did you find one?"

"Kinda�" Sully hinted mischievously, before explaining. "This trail we're on� It ends at a place called the "Mouse's Tank."

"Sounds charming," she smirked, following him anyway.

Undaunted by Michaela's sarcasm, Sully continued reciting the legend he had learned. "Round the turn-of-the-century, there was this renegade Indian by the name o' 'Quiet Mouse.'"

"He hid from the army all over this Valley." Carefully, Sully pulled back some brush to reveal a tranquil pool bathed in moonlight. "This place was the only catchbasin nearby, so Quiet Mouse used it as his water supply."

"The Mouse's Tank�" Michaela marveled at its beauty.

"Wanna try it out?" Though he shrugged boyishly, Sully's eyes smoldered.

"At this time of night, it'll be freezing," Michaela replied coyly.

"No more than on Valentine's Day, I s'pose," Sully invited, nudging her toward the water.

At the sight of her husband wading in, Michaela quickly changed her mind. "No, I suppose not," she relented quite happily.

Sighing, Michaela closed her eyes, as the cool waters permeated her clothing, finally reaching her skin. Enthralled, Sully watched her, reminded of another special holiday: their first Thanksgiving. He would never forget the mixture of pride and desire he felt as Michaela walked slowly toward him, into that God-given rain.

Acting now, on all the emotions he'd struggled so mightily to suppress that day, Sully swept her into his arms, delighting in her body's reaction and the passionate kiss that followed.

Breathless, Michaela caressed his face with her fingertips, confident their souls would be united for all eternity.

"One thing I'll say for you, Mr. Sully," she commented seductively, before they each succumbed to the joys this last night on earth would bring.

"You do know how to tell a bedtime story�"

^^^^^^^^^^

In the two weeks since Peter and Sophie had returned home to Agnes and Mount Horizon, their life had become surprisingly normal.

Of course, at first, Stephanie had prescribed complete bed rest for Sophie. Her injuries were nothing to treat lightly and Peter followed all instructions studiously, with the utmost care. Bandages were changed at the appointed times, walking was kept to a minimum, and physical exertion - even of the pleasurable kind - was definitely not allowed. That last instruction was testing Peter's willpower more than Stephanie would ever know.

Still, little by little, he and Sophie had inched their way back to a comfortable routine. The next class of incoming students wouldn't be arriving for days yet. Even the incessant rains, which hadn't let up since they'd arrived home, couldn't dampen Peter's spirits.

Las Vegas, and all its turmoil, seemed a lifetime away.

For the first time, today, Sophie was out on her own. It was Stephanie's day off and the two had gone for a quick lunch with Annie, after which, they'd swing by the clinic so Stephanie could give Sophie a complimentary, no-wait, final check-up. A "girls' day out," Sophie called it.

More likely, Peter thought she just needed a break from seeing his face twenty-four hours a day. Admittedly, he'd been a tad overzealous and overprotective of his wife's well-being. And, two weeks of togetherness could put a strain on any marriage, especially one that was currently exertionless.

So, with the winds howling and black rain clouds making an afternoon climb unwise, Peter was relegated to staying home and tackling the unavoidable task of paying all the bills that had accumulated during their absence.

Thank goodness he didn't have any Horizon paperwork to deal with, too! Phone, electricity, heat�one by one Peter signed each check with a groan, wondering why he didn't just open his wallet and let the cash fall out.

"Time flies when you're havin' fun," he grumbled, tossing the cable bill on the "done" pile and glancing at the clock.

It was nearly five o'clock. Shouldn't Sophie be home by now, he worried, before reminding himself that comments like that just might be why she left in the first place. There was a fine line between pampering and hovering and Peter was afraid he'd crossed it somewhere around last Thursday.

With renewed determination, he opened the next bill, their credit card statement, and tried to concentrate.

"Hey, there, Darlin', whatcha doin'?" Cheerfully, Sophie entered, threw her purse on the sofa, and shook the rain from her umbrella.

Instantly, Peter's day brightened. Dropping his pen on the desk, he walked toward her, greeting her with a kiss. "Bills," he replied, kissing her again.

"Bills, huh?" Sophie quizzed him, delighting in the reception. "Well, you should do them more often�" she teased, hanging up her coat.

Wryly, Peter quipped, "You should see what the junk mail does to me�"

Sophie smiled broadly. As much as she'd enjoyed her lunch with the girls, and as much as Peter was going to drive her certifiably crazy if he asked her one more time how she was feeling, Sophie had really, really, missed him.

"How's Stephanie?" he asked subtly, in preparation for his next question.

"She's fine," Sophie smirked. "But, she's never letting me out of town again. She says bad things happen to me when I leave town�"

"Check-up go okay?" At this point, Peter hoped his voice registered somewhere between nonchalance and panic.

Taking pity on him, Sophie just couldn't be angry. Knowing Peter, he'd probably chewed through an entire box of number two pencils worrying about her this afternoon. The least she could do was put him out of his misery.

"Stephanie says I'm doing great," she reported buoyantly.

"Great!" Relieved and excited - in more ways than one - Peter approached her enthusiastically, his hands on her arms.

But, with an imperceptible glimmer in her eye, Sophie thwarted her husband's obvious intentions and sighed.

"I should still take it easy, though, she said," Sophie lied quite convincingly. "Think I'll go take a nap before dinner."

"Easy�sure�" Peter retreated, trying not to sound too disappointed. After all, Sophie's health had to come first.

"I'll just get back to my calculator�" he mumbled, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to his desk.

Pivoting toward the hallway, Sophie glanced back at Peter with hidden amusement. He always did sulk adorably.

Purposely, she rattled about the bedroom, engaging him in conversation from within. "Any word from Frank?"

"He'll be back day after tomorrow�" Peter called to her through the closed door. "So, how was lunch?"

"Good," Sophie answered, undressing as she spoke. "Except Annie's mad at you."

"Me?" Peter shot back from the living room, wounded. "What'd I do?"

"You upset Gracie," Sophie reminded him.

"All I wanted was to make her think about it�" Peter defended innocently.

"By placing 'Free Irving' posters all over the diner?" Sophie still didn't understand what had possessed him!

"I feel his pain�" Peter grumbled, quickly shifting the subject away from Gracie's pet hamster.

"You got a phone call this afternoon," he told her. "Someone named Midge Crenshaw? She wanted to thank you for the email to Artie?"

Remarkably, in those harrowing hours he and Sophie had been separated, Sophie had managed to meet and make friends with an amazing cast of characters. From Las Vegas to Seattle, Miguel to Midge, Peter was still trying to keep everyone straight.

"Oh, what'd she have to say?" Sophie asked, sorry she'd missed the chance to speak with Artie's "missus." As promised, Sophie had written to fill him in on the outcome of her little adventure and, once again, thank him for all his help.

"Hard to tell." Mystified, Peter had strained to discern the woman's cryptic comment through all her effusive sniffles. "Something about that being the best romance novel she ever read?"

The praise gave Sophie an immediate giggle, which she quickly suppressed. If Midge only knew�

"That's so sweet," she answered Peter happily, turning down the bed.

Needing a little distraction from the bills, Peter threw a CD on the stereo. The soft ballad filled the air.

Take my hand
Take my whole life, too.
For, I can't help, falling in love with you.

The music prompted Sophie to poke just her head out the door and smile. "Elvis?"

With a shrug, Peter grinned, "You can take the boy outta Vegas�"

"Is it too loud?" he wondered, not wanting to disturb her.

"No, I like it, leave it on." Once again, Sophie was behind closed doors.

Returning to his calculator, and the last, remaining bill left to pay, Peter blanched at the numbers. There were only two stores listed on this credit card statement, yet the balance was nearly three thousand dollars!

The transactions were dated the day they'd left Vegas. Peter certainly hadn't bought anything. Vaguely, he remembered Sophie telling him to go on ahead with the bags while she made a quick stop at the lobby gift shops - but three thousand dollars?

"Sophie?" Bill in hand, Peter barged into the bedroom, seeking an explanation. But, what he found left him speechless�

Their simple bedroom seemed utterly transformed. With the drapes drawn, the room was now aglow in the gentle radiance of a dozen red tea candles. And, on the bed, the comforter had been turned down, the sheets smoothed quite invitingly.

From the wafting sounds of Elvis on the stereo to the rhythm of raindrops falling softly atop the roof, the effect was mesmerizing - and a world away from Peter's fiscal drudgeries.

At the mirrored dresser stood Sophie, her back to him as he entered. She had changed into a stunning red silk, negligee. Accentuated with delicate black lace at the bodice and hem, it lightly skimmed the tops of her thighs.

She was humming softly to the music, contentedly dabbing some perfume behind her ears. Patiently, she waited for Peter's gaze to settle on her reflection in the mirror. It didn't take long.

When she saw him stop short and gulp, she turned. Ignoring her husband's obvious surprise, she replied quite calmly, "Yes?"

The dazed silence that greeted her confirmed Sophie's sneaking suspicion: somewhere between the living room and the bedroom, Peter had lost his train of thought. She couldn't begin to imagine why�

So, blithely she continued on, noticing the charge statement in his hand.

"Oh, I've been meaning to tell you about that," Peter heard her breeze casually, apparently comfortable with the fact that she was wearing less fabric at the moment than their dining room table.

His mouth agape, he recovered what little voice he had left and croaked, "Ahhhbout what?"

"The twenty-seven hundred dollars at 'Simply Sinatra,'" Sophie confessed, taking the bill from him with a guilty shrug.

"I promised Gianni a little souvenir," she informed him, though she doubted whether Peter was even listening. "He would've been happy with a postcard, I know; but, they had this autographed litho of the Rat Pack, and, well, Peter, I just couldn't resist�"

Having a little trouble, himself, at the moment, with the concept of resisting, Peter definitely knew the feeling.

"That explains it," he smiled, without ever taking his eyes off Sophie's body.

"Explains what?" she wondered, delighted by his reaction.

"Gianni called after Midge." Lazily, Peter's palm traveled up and down Sophie's arm. Her skin was a thousand times silkier than the gown she wore.

"Lots of magnificos and bellisimas. He gasped and then hung up," Peter grinned. "I think he liked it."

"I'm glad," Sophie beamed, warming rapidly under Peter's soft caress.

Taking a wild guess, Peter fingered the lace of Sophie's nightgown, his blue eyes sparkling. "This wouldn't be the other two-fifty, would it?"

Nodding, Sophie stepped back, allowing Peter a good, long, look. "So, what do you think?" she asked, her heart pounding.

In the eternity it seemed to take for Peter to consider the question fully, his eyes darkened. The nightgown wasn't Sophie's usual style - or color - but, somehow, that just made her choice all the more exciting.

"Bellisima," he breathed, so intently that Sophie began to wonder just who was seducing whom, here.

Blushing, she walked toward the bed. "Well, you can take the girl outta Vegas�" she tempted, reaching for his hand.

"Speaking of which�" Peter followed her willingly, watching as Sophie climbed onto the bed and then rose on her knees to face him.

"About that�ummm�strippercise class�" he ventured, sliding the thin strap of her gown back and forth along the curve of her shoulder.

Suppressing a smile, Sophie chuckled to herself. Peter was so predictable sometimes. Not that she minded. Truthfully, Janet's class had taught her a lot - just not what Peter might have expected. Sure, it had given her the courage to wear a racy, red negligee with startling confidence. But, it had also reminded her of some very valuable concepts, on which, any loving marriage could thrive: spontaneity, variety and, above all, fun.

She was about to reward Peter with all three - and so much more.

"Can't stop thinking about it, can you, Sparky?" she chided him.

Shaking his head, Peter excused himself pitifully. "I've tried. Really, I've tried."

Coyly, Sophie gestured toward the assortment of board games they kept stacked by the closet. "Might be more fun if we played a game?" she enticed suggestively.

Assuming Sophie meant Twister, Peter swallowed hard, the mere thought, mindboggling. Reluctantly, though, he voiced his concern. "Soph�Twister? You might get dizzy� Your ankle�"

Feigning regret, she didn't disagree. For, ever since she first laid eyes on her extremely impulsive purchase, Sophie had had only one particular game in mind.

"How about Clue?" she baited him mischievously, knowing it had always been Peter's favorite.

Plaintively, Peter rested his hand on her hip and stroked the thin silk against her body. His voice raspy, he tried not to sound disappointed. "Isn't that a little boring for what you have on?"

Determined to prove to him how exhilarating any activity could be with just a little imagination, Sophie reached beneath her pillow. There, tucked safely away, were a few "homemade" Clue cards she'd created especially for the occasion.

"Not necessarily," she riddled, fanning the cards, face up, in the palm of his hand.

Before him were four personalized "weapon" cards, each bordered in tiny red hearts. They read simply: " a look," "a touch," "a taste," and "a tease."

Now, the way Sophie was dressed, Peter felt certain that any of the four could kill him - and he'd undoubtedly die a very happy man. But, hastily, he chose "a touch," expectation rife in his eyes as Sophie glanced at the card.

Willingly, she reached to unbutton his shirt, placing several incredible kisses all over his chest. Then, it was on to his neck, as Peter groaned, nearly dizzy with desire. Gently, Sophie nibbled along his collarbone, traveling upwards to his Adam's apple and, finally, across to the soft flesh below his ear.

"Nice choice," she whispered low, brushing her lips back and forth against his cheek until they, ultimately, met his.

With all the love she felt - all the love she hadn't been able to express these past weeks - Sophie leaned into the kiss, raking her fingers through his hair, bringing him closer still. Timing was everything, Janet had insisted. And now, Sophie realized she was right. Moments like this shouldn't be rushed.

When they finally pulled apart, Peter could hardly wait to continue their "game." Slyly, he eyed the remaining weapon cards, his fingers wandering toward "a tease."

"Unh-huh�" Sophie scolded him playfully, snatching the card. "I can't kill you twice."

"Sure you can�" Peter assured her quickly, wanting more. "I don't mind."

"Peter�" Sophie tried her best to disapprove. "You know the rules - person, place, and weapon. That's the game."

Begrudgingly, Peter acquiesced, a new thought occurring to him.

"So, where do I find my last two clues?" he breathed, close to losing his mind at the possibilities.

With an enigmatic smile, Sophie paused. Her plan was unfolding perfectly. Aware that true perfection was just moments away, Sophie locked her eyes with his. And, although, strictly speaking, only one weapon was allowed, Sophie decided to grant all of Peter's requests at once.

Slowly, she lowered one strap of her nightgown, almost to her elbow, until the fabric barely covered her breast. It was "a tease" Janet would be proud of, and it left Sophie almost as breathless as Peter.

"I 'am' your last two clues�" she hinted provocatively, giving Peter all the information he needed to "win" the game.

Fleetingly, Sophie feared Peter's body might have already overtaken his brain and her mysterious charade hadn't succeeded. But she needn't have worried.

Baffled for only a second, Peter chuckled wickedly, his face breaking into the world's most appreciative grin.

Apparently, just as Sophie had given him a personalized introduction to the game, Twister, tonight, thanks to her time in Las Vegas, his incredible wife was about to share with him a similarly unforgettable variation on the game Clue.

With a low growl, Peter swept Sophie off her knees, tumbling them both, passionately, onto the sheets.

Lucky for her, he always did suspect Miss Scarlett in the bedroom�

THE END

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]