Echoes in Eternity

What We Do in Life …

Elysium’s Gate

by

Reagan Kavanagh

This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned.  No copyright infringement on the original work is intended.  © Reagan Kavanagh 2006.

REAGAN

We both fell in love with the old farmhouse.  It was tiny, but there was so much love within those walls that you’d have had to be heartless not to sense it.  By the time we’d been there a month, I knew I couldn’t bear razing it and building our home on the spot it had occupied.  Max and I developed a habit of taking walks in the evening after the day’s heat had subsided; the conversation started as we stood looking down the path that led from the tree line back to the house.  He broached the subject.

“I do not wish to bring down this house and build on its ruins.”  I smiled as I looked up at him.  For all our volatility on occasion – and we definitely have our share of conflict – we truly do agree on important things. 

“Neither do I.  Do you think that after we’re in the new house, we could do a little renovation on this one and use it as a guest house?  Assuming of course that we eventually have enough children to fill up all the bedrooms in the new house?  It would be really great as a guest house for potential buyers if and when you start breeding horses.  It shouldn’t cost all that much to renovate it.”  That got me a smile as big as Texas.  He completely ignored my last statement.

“You would be willing to have three or four children with me?”

“Well, I don’t have another man in mind at the moment – I doubt Dee would be willing to farm out Terry for the job – so I guess it would be with you.”  He laughed aloud at that.  Max has gotten really good at getting jokes and innuendos, though for the first six months we were together I’d almost despaired of that ever happening.  I guess the combination of Terry, Dee, Dino, Sooze, and now Ellie had finally had a cumulative effect.

MAXIMUS

I do not know if it is customary in this time to give a name to one’s home and property, and I care not.  Following our move to the farm I had thought much on an appropriate name for this place that would be our home from now until our deaths.  One name had sprung immediately to my mind and though I considered others, the first one returned again and again.  Elysium’s Gate.  My life with Cassandra was what I imagined Elysium to be, what I hoped it would be if I lived my life in a manner appropriate to gain me entry there. 

I imagine each man has his own conception of the afterlife; I am no different.  For me it would be spending eternity in peace …no battles, no death or destruction, and time …time with those we had most loved in the earthly plane, and time to pursue those things for which we had no opportunity whilst alive.  Marcus Aurelius once told me of his vision of Elysium. 

If he were granted entry, he hoped to spend time with all his children and guide them in virtue as he had failed to do with all save Lucilla.  He would attend more fully to his wife and ensure her knowing that he revered her above all other women.  He would spend more of his time in contemplation – and writing down his thoughts – rather than making plans for battle and conquest.  He would have peace.  Our visions were much the same.  Would my mentor, the man I had revered as a father, and I have time to speak of things cut short by his son in our first lives?

I had often wondered at the fate of those of us who had loved more than one woman.  I learnt to love my wife, though never with the abiding richness and depth of passion I had known with Cassandra in that first life.  Our time – Ileana’s and mine as well as that I shared with my first Cassandra – had been cut cruelly short, and few of our dreams had met fruition. 

If I were permitted entry to Elysium and arrived before Cassandra in this time, how would Ileana react on realising I preferred spending my time with the first Cassandra rather than herself?  Would she be jealous?  Does a man owe greater fealty to a wife than to a former mistress?  For in reality, Cassandra had been my mistress in that first life.  I considered her wife, but we did not have the luxury of time to affect that status under the law.  When Cassandra of this life joined me, how would her predecessor and Ileana greet her, for it would be to her I would turn fully.  And what of Ethelinde?  She was a barbarian but had been a good woman.  Would she be in Elysium?  If so, surely she would be with her husband.

Ethelinde’s husband …if I had committed one singular sin that would forever bar me from Elysium, it had been against him.  True, he was a soldier and could have died in any one of a hundred battles; that was a potential fate shared by all who served under the Roman Eagle.  My sin had been in putting him on foot in a situation I knew to be ultimately deadly.  I had set him in harm’s way with full knowledge that he would almost certainly die.  I was on horseback and saw his danger; I could have ridden to his aid but did not.  Though I did not swing the blade that ended his life, I was more guilty of his death than the barbarian who severed his limb.  I had wanted his woman and determined to have her in any way I might.  I had beseeched the Gods many times in that first life – and continue doing so to this day – to forgive my heinousness but had no notion if they even heard my supplications.  And if they heard would they heed them?  Would they know my guilt and regret?  Cassandra assures me that her Christian God forgives all those who repent of their transgressions.  Would He hear my plea and give me succour?

*

I was walking amongst the trees not far from the little farm house as I pondered these thoughts.  I heard the rumble of trucks on the road from the main highway and turned to watch as they approached.  To the left of the little farmhouse was a patch of even ground surrounded by a copse of trees on three sides.  That was the site Cassandra and I had chosen for our new home.  The occupants of the trucks rumbling toward me with their burden of earth-moving equipment were here to clear the ground beneath the trees and smooth it in preparation for placing the foundation for our home.  I would stay my thoughts for the present and turned back to the house to tell Cassandra the day we had awaited had arrived.

REAGAN

Max walked in the door a few minutes after nine and came to hold me close.  I relaxed into him, and he smiled.  I was in my second trimester, and my belly was beginning to get in the way of a close embrace.  While a long way from totally impossible, our sex life had undergone a few changes.  No more swing until the baby was born – too risky with the increase in depth of penetration – and no more missionary position as that wasn’t really comfortable any longer.  I’d become the cowgirl, and now I was the ‘back in the saddle.’  Max had roared with laughter when I made that observation. 

He’d always liked having me on top because that gave him full access and full view of my body.  He liked it even more now.  His hands cupped my enlarged breasts and stroked down and over the increasing size and tautness of my belly. 

If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget the look on his face the night the baby kicked him.  I say kicked Max because though we’d both climaxed, he’d not yet softened and slipped out of me.  He was still hard and deep inside me when the baby decided he or she’d had enough of what ‘it’ must have considered an invasion of its already tight living quarters and kicked hard.  I could feel the little foot as it moved and kicked down toward my vagina where Max still rested inside of me.  He jumped in surprise, and his eyes widened.  He withdrew immediately and moved me to his side.

“Was that the babe?  Did he just kick me?”

“Yes, it was the baby, and yes, he or she just kicked …but he or she kicked me.  You got caught in the crossfire.”  I realised then that I’d lost his attention.  He’d flipped on the bedside lamp and was too busy looking as his penis to hear a word I’d said. 

He was holding it and twisting it about, all the while examining it intently.  Perhaps I’d best look, too.  I tried to stifle my laughter when I saw the red mark that appeared to be turning rapidly into a bruise; I failed miserably.  How many men can say that their child kicked them before he/she was born and whilst their parents were having intercourse?  That has to be one for the Guinness Book of Records.  I can see a new category coming now ….  My husband snorted at my laughter.

“You find this amusing?”  I gasped through my mirth.

“I do!”

“Cassandra, I have been injured.  This is not amusing!”

“Yes (chortle), it is!”

“Our child has wounded me, Cassandra.  How can you find this amusing?”  Did he REALLY want me to explain that?  Yes, he did.  Let’s see …do I still have the attorney who handled my divorce from Bill on speed dial?

MAXIMUS

She found the fact that the child had succeeded in bruising my cock to be amusing in the extreme.  In truth, I did as well.  If the child is a boy, I shall have to see that he is with an appropriate rugby coach at an early age.  Surely by the time he is old enough to consider a professional career, South Sydney will consider him even though he is not of Australian birth. 

The house was now underway.  The foundation was in place, and the framing timbers were rising.  I had arisen early this Saturday and was outside before the workers arrived.  I entered the skeleton of the house and walked through the timbers, imagining where walls would be, and then looked skyward.  The house faced north, and I walked down the east side to the area that would house our bedroom and the nursery. 

A smile broke forth on my face, and I laughed aloud.  It was a good day, and I had much for which to be thankful.  My wife’s belly was growing and she was now ripe with my child; she and the babe were in good health, and within a few short months we would hold our first child in our arms.  The home that would be our refuge for the rest of our lives was rising round me.  A barn and stables would be raised after the house, and we would have both cattle and horses.  The fields here were fertile, and I would plant wheat next year.  I would again be a farmer. 

I thought back to the day we had broken ground for our home.  On that day I entreated the many of the gods – Vesta as Goddess of the Hearth; Diana, Protector of Children and Goddess of the Hunt; Ceres, Goddess of the Harvest and Fertility; Tellus, Goddess of the Earth and Ground; Minerva, Goddess of Wisdom and Courage; Cybele, the Great Mother; and Venus, Goddess of Love and Beauty – to bless this ground and this dwelling, to bless Cassandra and our issue, asking also that our home resound with the joyous sounds of children’s laughter.  I prayed I did not ask too much of the gods. 

I heard her voice behind me and turned toward it.  She was walking toward me, waddling much in the manner of a plump duck, and I smiled at her.  She laughed as she spoke.

“If you tell me one more time that I waddle like a duck, I swear I’ll hurt you, Max.”  Max …she had begun calling me that some time past, and I was not yet fully accustomed to it.  The fact that she still called me Maximus when I held her in my arms compensated for the lack at other times. 

She was dressed and ready to leave for the day.  We were going to Terry and Diana’s to be joined there by Dino and Ellen.  The women would spend the day doing whatever it is women do when they are together; I suspect much of it has to do with laughing at what Cassandra has termed the antics of adult men.  Dino and I had been enlisted to assist Terry in repairing the fence in their near paddock. 

We arrived by ten to find Dino’s car already in the drive.  Once inside the house, Diana poured coffee before telling us to take our seats at the dining table.  Unfortunately, Ellen was not present.  She was in preparation for a difficult trial, and the case demanded her time this weekend.  Dino was alone as he has often been these past weeks. 

Diana had prepared a sumptuous breakfast in order to ensure the three men were well fortified for the day’s task.  Forty-five minutes later we were hard at work, having left Diana and Cassandra in the coolness of the house.  It was fall, and though the nights were now cooler, temperatures in the day still approached the low-90s.  I considered it still too hot for a woman in Cassandra’s condition to be outdoors other than during the very early morning or late evening hours.

I watched my wife closely, always concerned for her health and comfort and that of the babe.  Until these last few days, we had enjoyed a regular sex life; that had now ceased until the birth of our child.  Three nights past the child had kicked heartily as we finished our coupling.  I had not previously considered that our activity might in any way cause the babe discomfort, but his kick brought that possibility to mind. 

I determined at that time to withhold myself until after the child’s birth.  I had not mentioned my decision to Cassandra, as I knew her feelings on the subject.  Whilst I respect her position, I must do what I deem best for both her health and that of our child.  At this juncture, I deem it best to forego further sexual activity until Sharon Fletcher says Cassandra may resume relations following the birth.  It is not as if there have not been times in my past when I was unable to enjoy the comfort of a woman’s body; I would survive this occurrence as I had previous such times.

These thoughts preoccupied me, and that is likely the cause of the accident.  I heard a shout from Terry, and before I could determine the cause of his alarm, I felt a crushing pain on my left hand.  My hand had been resting on the fence rail below the one we were replacing, and the just placed upper rail slipped loose.  We had not seated it fully, and it fell from the bracket, catching my hand between it and the rail below.  Terry and Dino quickly moved the rail, but the damage was done.  My hand was bloodied and already swelling. 

“Jesus, Max, good thing that rail wasn’t a sword, or you’d be missing a hand!”

“Mate, get into the barn …your ring has to come off now.” 

By the time we were into the barn, my hand and fourth and fifth fingers had swollen to the point that I could not remove my marriage ring.  Terry shook his head as he made for his tool chest and returned with a pair of metal snips.

“Hate to do this, Max, but I think Reags would rather replace your ring than see you lose a finger.”  I nodded, wincing as he managed to get the snips under the edge of my wedding ring and cut through it.  The jagged edges of metal cut into my skin before Dino could pry the edges apart with pliers and remove it from my hand.

“Can you move your fingers?”  I tried, though only the middle and first ones accommodated.  Terry shook his head.

“Your ring and little fingers are broken, Mate.  Well, there’s nothing for it.  Let’s go tell Reags and get you to hospital.” 

Cassandra was surprisingly calm, or so I believed until I recalled that she had spent some time working in a hospital setting as well as her work in forensics; of course, she would be calm in the face of a few broken bones.  We went to the nearest hospital, my hand was x-rayed, and we learnt the fourth and fifth metacarpals had been cleanly fractured though the bones were not badly displaced. 

An orthopaedic hand specialist was summoned; he aligned and set the fractures and put my hand in a cast.  It would remain thus for four to six weeks.  On removal of the cast, I would have therapy on the hand twice weekly to regain strength.  I was cautioned not to attempt wearing a ring on my left hand for at least six months.  I felt foolish in the extreme for having been so inattentive as to have allowed myself to be injured in this manner.

REAGAN

A week later, I turned my back to him and scooted to the far side of the bed; I blinked back my tears and struggled not to let him know I was crying.  His voice in my ear and hand on my shoulder undid me, and I sobbed aloud.

“Cara, my abstinence has nothing to do with your desirability; in reality, I have never found you more desirable than I do now.  However, after the babe kicked and bruised me, I have thought much on the advisability of continuing our sexual relationship between now and the child’s birth.  I do not think it prudent.  I fear injuring both you and the babe, and I will not take that risk.” 

The master had spoken, and I knew I had Buckley’s chance of changing his mind.  I snivelled on for a few moments and finally turned back to him.

“You really don’t think I’m fat and repulsive?  I think I’m fat and repulsive.”  That got me his slow smile, and he shook his head as his right hand cupped my face.

“I would remind you once more that what women consider desirable often does not comport with the notion held by men.  I cannot speak for all men, but a breeding woman is to me more desirable than I can explain.  Your body is a marvel as it does what the gods intend it to do.  How could I not find beautiful what we have made together?  How could I not find you more desirable than ever before?  Cara, I deny us both for fear of injury to you or our child; there is no other reason.”

I supposed I’d have to accept it, at least for now.  Perhaps in a month he’d be sufficiently frustrated that I could entice him to let me back in the saddle.

MAXIMUS

The cast came off my hand in due time, and I began a course of exercises with a physical therapist.  The first night the cast was gone Cassandra and I looked at my hand.  It was pale from the cast, and the tan line from my marriage ring was no longer visible.  I found that distressing.  I knew I could not wear my ring for months yet and had been comforted initially by the thought that the paler skin under my ring would serve as my ring until that date. 

Cassandra saw fit to make a joke.

“Well, if you were ever going to play around on me, now’s your chance.  No unsuspecting female would ever know you’d had a ring on your hand for the last year.”  I did not find her comment amusing in the least.

“I find your sense of humour in this instance ill-placed, Cassandra.  I take great pride and comfort in the wearing of your ring.”  Her humour fled as she took my injured hand and raised it to her heart, placing it firmly on her left breast as she spoke.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Caro.  I was pulling your chain, and made an ill-advised joke.  I know you aren’t inclined to screw around on me, despite your Roman heritage.  I trust you, Max.  That’s one reason I can love you so completely.”  I pulled her into my arms and held her close.

“And I love you, Cara, with all my heart.”

*

I did not wish her to purchase a new ring for me when I was once again able to wear it.  I wanted the original ring reshaped.  We took the mangled circlet with us to the jeweller and asked if he could melt it down and refashion it into a wearable object.

“Sure I can, but I can’t promise I’ll get the design exactly right.”  I shook my head at him.

“I care not for the design, so long as the new incarnation is of the same metal as the one she gave me on the day we were wed …and so long as you inscribe the sentiment inside in the same manner as before.” 

“That I can do.  It may be a slightly thinner band initially, because your finger will still be a bit swollen even six months out, Mr. Espan.  Once the swelling has completely subsided, I can redo it to the ring’s original size and thickness.  Will that work for you?”

“That will do very well, and I thank you.”  Cassandra looked up at me as we exited the shop.

“Feel better now?”

“I do, and when he has remade it, I can carry it in my pocket until such time as I can again wear it.”  That is precisely what I did.  I was never without it during the day, and on returning home each evening, I placed it on my valet stand with the other contents of my pockets to be returned to my pocket the following morning.

REAGAN

I never thought I’d see the day a man would get himself into a flat spin over a wedding ring.  Many men prefer not wearing one, and it made me happy that Max felt as he did. 

Life rocked on, and the new house grew before our eyes.  Construction stopped several times because of the rain.  We were again having a warmer than usual winter thanks to the El Niño effect, and it seemed to rain constantly.  The house wouldn’t be completed before the baby was born, and we both regretted that.  We’d hoped to be able to install him or her in the nursery in the new house on coming home from hospital, but that didn’t appear to be in the cards.  Terry and Dee came down for dinner one evening – arriving in late afternoon, as it was Saturday – and we showed them through the construction site before it got too dark to see.

“Jesus, Reags, do you think you’re going to have enough room here?”  I knew I could count on Dee to come up with some comment, and I laughed.  Max frowned before realising she was teasing.

“We plan a large family, Diana, at least three children and possibly four if the gods smile on us.  The house will be full.”  Dee looked at Terry, her eyes big as saucers, then back at me.

“Are you planning on giving up teaching?  I can’t see you having three more kids between now and menopause unless you have one a year!”

“Not planning on one a year, but with luck there could be one every 18-months to two years, and the women in my family are known for late menopause.  My mom didn’t have her last period until she was 54.  As for teaching, I haven’t decided yet.  I have told my dean that I’ll be cutting back my teaching load once this one is born, and she’s already accustomed to my not being around this year.  Given the accident in the spring and this pregnancy, I think she and the university are capable of surviving without me.”

“I just can’t see you staying at home ….”  I shrugged.

“I’ve been thinking for several years of writing a textbook on forensic psyc.  This may be the ideal time to start working on it.” 

*

Max held me close as we lay in bed that night.

“Would you truly give up your teaching duties?”

“For one child, it’s unlikely …for two or more, yes, I would.  If we have only one child, I can take him or her to work with me and have him – or her – in the school’s faculty day care centre when I’m teaching.  If we’re fortunate enough have more than one child, I’d prefer staying at home.”  I tilted my head back to look at him in the moonlight filtering in through the windows.

“Max, I don’t want someone else raising our children.  I’ve had a successful career, and I’ve loved every minute of it.  I can appropriately nurture one child and continue working part-time; I can’t do that with two or more.  I won’t short-change our children, and I won’t deprive you of my time and attention.  I’ve waited all my life to be a mother, and I sure as Hell don’t intend short-changing myself in that endeavour any more than I’ll risk damaging our relationship by not being fully your wife.”  His response was to kiss me and pull me into his side as we drifted off to sleep.

MAXIMUS

It had never occurred to me that she would forsake her career to raise our children.  I had hoped she would consider doing so, but I would never ask it of her.  The fact that she willingly offered to do so meant more to me than I could express in words.  Terry questioned me on the matter when I arrived at the office on Monday.

“Is Reags serious about giving up her career?”

“She tells me she has never been more serious about anything.  She truly wishes to write at least one textbook and has confirmed with Jack Marshall that she could consult with the Bureau on an ad hoc basis as well as having them as a resource for her work.  Either or both would allow her ample time to mother our children and still keep her foot in the professional world.”  He smiled as he shook his head.

“She’s the last woman on earth I’d ever have pictured doing the mummy bit full-time.”  I smiled as I repeated words once spoken to Lucilla.

“Many things change.”

“Yeah, Mate.  I guess they do.”

*

Though Terry refused to send me into the field prior to Cassandra’s delivery of our child, I continued to make my regular visits to clients.  Often those visits could be accomplished in a day; on occasion, they required my absence from home for as much as a week.  I did not enjoy being away from my wife and endeavoured to the greatest degree possible to be gone no more than a night or two.

I refused to allow Terry or Dino to take my usual weekends on-call, though driving in from the country became more of a trial as Cassandra’s pregnancy advanced.  We hit on the solution as we sat at the breakfast table on a Saturday morning.

“Why not consider spending your on-call weekends at the loft?  I can go in with you on Saturdays and we’ll return here on Sunday evenings.  Much as I hate to admit it, I do need to begin seriously looking for furnishings for the nursery, and there are a thousand-and-one things we need for the baby.  If I’m in town on Saturdays I can probably coerce Dee to drive down on occasion and go shopping with me.  Diego can take care of the pups whilst we’re in town.”

“I suppose we could consider that.  It would work no hardship on Diego to let the dogs in and out of the house and to feed them one evening and the following morning.  He is amply paid for his endeavours and seems constantly to be searching for more to do.  The dogs seem fond of him, and he is patient with them …even to tolerating Pandora’s leaping each time she sees him.” 

Mr. Abbott had retained Diego Mendoza several years past to assist him with managing the farm when it became too much for him to do alone.  I had kept him on when we moved here, as the day-to-day activities of what would be a working farm would be impossible for me unless I were to resign my position with Thorne, Espan, and O’Reilly.  I was not ready to retire – though I did wish occasionally for more leisure time – and with the financial commitment of the farm and the new house, I could not afford to become a so-called gentleman farmer.  That might be possible five years hence but not yet.

I spoke with Diego that day, and he agreed to the increased responsibilities.  I had the desk the following weekend, and so began Cassandra’s and my cycle of spending each third weekend in the city at my old loft.

To be Continued

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