Chapter 1 - the Worst of Times, The Best of Times
I met Amy Foster in high school, eleventh grade, second-period math. The date and time were etched in my mind. Friday, September 9th, 2013, 10:15 AM.
For me the attraction was instantaneous. Her light brown hair, bleached almost blonde by the sun, cute upturned nose, easy smile, swimmer’s shoulders, pert round breasts, slim waist, full round hips, tanned legs, she had it all. Add to that she was smart as a whip and had a great sense of humour. She was the total package and I was smitten.
She, however, did not feel the same way about me. She liked me fine enough, or so she said, but when I asked her out she said she just wanted to be friends. She liked hanging out with me and felt like she could talk to me about anything but there just was no spark, no excitement when we were together. She apologized but an apology was all I ever got.
Which was why I was stunned when she started dating my twin brother as juniors in high school. We were alike in almost every way, height, weight, stature, hair and eye colour and we looked enough alike that only our mother and younger sister could tell us apart. Until he met Amy, she recognized the differences straight away. The tiny scar at the edge of one eyebrow from a thrown rock, the slight differences in the gaps in our teeth, even our dentist had to double-check that he had the correct O’Brien kid in his chair. There were other subtle differences but hardly anyone ever saw them.
And so it went all through high school. Amy was seemingly always by his side and I was left watching from the sidelines, pining for a girl I would never call my own.
I moved on, or I tried to but every woman I ever met was compared to her and none of them measured up. To me, she was perfect and every other woman on the planet was tied for second place.
Our family had a long tradition of uniformed service to our country. A deep sense of patriotism was instilled in us through the generations from the Boer Wars, World Wars I and II, Korea, and many peacekeeping missions. And so it was that my brother Greg and I went to the recruiting center on the same day a week after our nineteenth birthday. He joined the Army as our father had and I the Navy like my grandfather.
We completed our training and got our first postings. Shortly afterward, he came home and proposed to Amy and she accepted before he even got all the words out. I had never seen her so happy and despite my wish that it was me she wanted to spend her life with, I was genuinely happy for her.
The funny thing was that, even though Greg had the one thing I wanted more than anything, I was never jealous of him. It wasn’t his fault; Amy had made her choice and I wanted the very best for her.
Greg looked resplendent in his uniform as Amy walked up the aisle fighting back her tears of pure joy. She was a vision in white from her veil to her short heels. A bouquet of blood-red roses in her arms stood out starkly against the brilliant white dress. She looked like something out of a bridal magazine.
Stupidly, I offered to chauffeur them around on their big day, picking her and her mother up at their house and delivering her to the church to marry the wrong man. I remember every word her mother told her about not being nervous on her wedding night and how she was certain that Greg would be gentle with her. Through it all, I just smiled and congratulated her on finding a man who loved her unconditionally. She thought I meant Greg but I really meant me. Too bad she could never see it.
They must have caught a silver bullet on their wedding night because 282 days after they were married, she gave birth to a son. She wanted to name him after his father but Greg insisted he be named after our grandfather, George. Incidentally, I was named after him as well. So now my brother was married to the woman I wished was my wife and his son was named after me as well. This was so unintentionally cruel that I had trouble believing it myself.
Seventeen months after George came along, Allison followed. Named for her maternal grandmother, she was the very image of her mother. For two years, I watched her grow into a bright and inquisitive child whenever I visited them while on leave or furlough.
Then the news came that Greg was to be deployed to that awful country in South Asia where everyone seemed to hate us for the simple truth that we were not like them. Greg tried to reassure us that he would be fine but our family’s history of military service told us that there was a fair chance that he would not come home.
Two months went by, then three and four, and with each passing day, our family’s hope rose that he might just make it through.
It happened on his last patrol before he was supposed to come home. His squad was being ferried out on a helicopter to start their route and they were to make their way back to base. As the aircraft circled the LZ, the tail rotor froze and the helicopter spiralled into the ground, killing the two pilots and three of Greg’s twelve-member squad. The fact that the subsequent Flight Safety investigation revealed that it was a failure of a three-dollar split pin in the tail rotor gearbox was of little comfort to our family.
Amy was devastated, as any young wife and mother would be. Now a widow, her children orphans, the future she had hoped and planned for was gone. She was staying with our family while Greg was away so everyone could help with the children. I hurried home as soon as I heard the news, telling my boss that my brother had been killed and I had to get home to my family. “Take as long as you need, we’ll figure everything out later,” he told me.
When I got home the first person I saw was Amy. She had a blank stare on her face like she just could not comprehend what had happened. I knelt in front of her and when she saw my face she must have thought I was my brother because she leapt into my arms and called me his name.
“I just knew it wasn’t true!” she cried as she clung to me. I said nothing until she relaxed her grip and looked at my face again. That second look told her it was true and she held on to me and we cried for what felt like hours.
“Why, George, why him?” she cried over and over. I had no answer for her so I just held her and let her cry herself out. That took almost two days during which she barely slept. Her mother looked after the children.
Then we saw the government-issue sedan pull up with a Padre and an Officer in full dress. We all just sat there and listened as he offered his condolences to our family. He brought with him a copy of Greg’s will and asked that we convey it to a lawyer to settle the probate. He left a card and said someone would be in touch to explain the benefits that Amy would receive as the widow of a veteran. They could only be described as paltry at best; my mother called them an insult to Greg’s memory.
Finally, he arrived home and was buried beside our grandfather with full military honours. Amy would not let me leave her side during the service and afterward, the three of his squad mates that had accompanied him home commented on how much Greg and I looked alike.
Before they left, they gave Amy all of their contact information and said that if the military gave them any trouble over benefits or anything to call them and they would sort it out for her. “Greg was a hero,” his Sergeant said and that’s when Amy’s grief came bursting out.
“A HERO? HOW DOES DYING IN A STUPID HELICOPTER CRASH MAKE HIM A HERO? HE WASN’T KILLED BY A TERRORIST BOMB OR SHOT BY A CHILD SOLDIER! HE WAS A VICTIM!” She ran from the room and locked herself in her bedroom.
I thanked the three of them for coming and promised I’d get in touch. I went back to the bedroom and tapped on the door and after waiting a moment to check that the door was not locked, I opened it cautiously. The blank stare was back and she looked at me. “He’s really gone, isn’t he?”
I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulder. “I’m afraid so, Amy.” And that quickly she went from denial to anger to acceptance. The bargaining and depression would surely follow and I promised myself that I would be there for her through all of it.
I returned to my ship and requested a compassionate discharge, saying I was needed at home to support my mother in her grief. Everyone up my chain of command tried to change my mind but they eventually relented and signed off on it. My naval career lasted a grand total of four years and eleven days.
I returned home a month after I left and found out, that because Amy was no longer a military spouse, she could no longer occupy military housing. She was being evicted only two months after her husband was killed on duty. My father and her younger brother drove to their home, packed their belongings and moved her and her children back to live with my parents until something more permanent could be sorted out.
My naval trade had been as an electrician and once a local contractor heard about our situation, he called me, offering me a job. I told him I had no civilian qualifications or certifications but he said he didn’t care, he’d employ me while I worked on those. I was very grateful both to be able to earn a living and to have something to do. Each night, I would help feed and bathe Greg’s children and read to them at bedtime, just like any good father would do.
Amy’s mood improved slowly but there were times when she would see a photograph or hear a sound or smell a certain smell and the grief would come piling back onto her, rendering her almost catatonic for days on end. The depression phase of grief, as horrible as it was to watch this woman that I had loved for as long as I could remember, living through it must have been thousands of times worse! Through it all, I became her de facto caregiver, making sure she ate and bathed and did her best for her children.
In other circumstances, I would have been thrilled to be spending that much time with her but to see her so sad and lonely hurt me to my core. I felt useless, unable to fix everything for her. Every once in a while she would give me a hug and thank me for everything I was doing to help. Her smile and a soft kiss on the cheek were all the payment I would ever need.
It was almost a year after Greg’s death before she finally started to come out of it. Some long sessions with our minister and a therapist helped immensely but it was one night after supper when she and I were getting her children ready for bed that she stopped and looked at me.
“George, I’ve never thanked you properly for everything you’ve done for me. You put your life on hold for me and my children and you have asked for nothing in return. I always knew you carried a torch for me but I never dreamed that the kind of unconditional love you’ve shown me ever existed. Thank you.” She put her arms around me and hugged me for a long time. Then she kissed my lips, very softly and briefly but my heart leapt at the touch. “My mom says I married the wrong brother.” She smiled and hugged me again and we carried on putting the children to bed.
She watched as I read to them, occasionally wiping away a tear but smiling through it all. When I switched out the light, she hugged me again and turned into her room to go to bed.
The next morning, she was as bright-eyed as I’d seen her in a long time. “I need to find a job,” she said at breakfast. “Greg is gone and I have to move on with my life. It sucks but that’s the hand I’ve been dealt.” She finished her breakfast and went to get the kids up for the day.
Three weeks later, through connections I had with the contracting firm I worked for, she was hired on as Junior Office Manager at a local building supply dealer. The job consisted mostly of being a gofer for the rest of the office staff but she learned quickly and was soon a contributing member of the staff.
She didn’t make a lot of money so I helped her when she rented a small house not far from both sets of parents. Her mom was retired so she offered to provide childcare. Amy would drop them off and I would pick them up on my way home, looking after them until she got home. She still had her sad times and there were still tears but all in all, she was coping well.
In exchange for a break on the rent, I agreed to help maintain and do minor repairs on the house. One thing the owners wanted done was to have the main floor washroom remodelled so, after soliciting my co-workers to come on weekends to check my plumbing and construction work, it was time for drywall. As I emerged from the cloud of drywall dust one night, Amy looked at me and laughed. It had been so long since I’d heard her laugh I was overjoyed. The Amy I knew and loved was coming back to the world. And make no mistake, I loved her. I always had.
“You look like a ghost!” she laughed and Little George echoed her. "Uncle Georgie a ghost! BOO!” he laughed and he ran into the other room.
“It’s good to see you smile,” I said. “I love your smile.”
“It’s good to smile again,” she said. Then the sadness appeared once more and I went to hug her, drywall dust be damned. “It’s just so lonely sometimes, in this house with just me and the kids. Maybe I should get a roommate, just for company. I could sublet the extra bedroom if Mr Hansen agrees.”
“I could be your roommate,” I said without thinking. She blinked hard. “Think about it. I spend every spare minute here anyways. I love the kids and I think they love me.” She nodded emphatically. “I could finally move out of my parent’s house. “Just think about it.”
“I don’t have to think about it,” she said. “If you want to be my roommate I would love to have you here. It’s the perfect solution.”
We talked to Mr Hansen, her landlord, and he agreed. He was pleased with the quality of the work I did and he felt better that there was a man about the house to keep it and Amy’s family safe.
“We’re your family too,” Amy said as we walked back to my truck. “And you are ours, mine and the children’s.”
I moved in the following weekend and we soon established a routine. I imagined that it was just like being married without the physical intimacy and I was just fine with that.
“You two need a night to yourselves,” her mother said one Sunday when she was over for dinner. “How about I take the children next Saturday night and you two can just have a quiet evening in, maybe sleep in for once! I remember what it’s like with small kids and I know I would have loved a night off." Amy looked at her mother suspiciously. She suspected that she was trying to fix us up.
We talked about it throughout the week and agreed. We made a plan to go out for dinner and have an evening at home, no housework, no homework (as I called my projects to improve the house), just relaxing and watching a movie. “Maybe on Sunday we can both go visit Greg and tell him how things are going,” I said.
“I’m not sure I want company when I go see him. We talk about things I’d rather keep private.”
“I understand, Amy.” I squeezed her hand. “Whatever you like.” She smiled at me and squeezed back.
On Saturday after lunch, we bundled the rug rats up and drove them to her parents' house for the night. They were of course thrilled to be able to spoil them without parental oversight and shooed us out the door after only a brief visit.
“I need to go shopping,” she said. “I haven’t bought any new clothes since Greg died and some of my things are getting worn out.” It was the first time I’d heard her talk about his death without tearing up. We went into the town center and she banished me to the hardware store or wherever until she was done. Two hours later, I was sitting in a café having a coffee and talking with some folks I hadn’t seen since the funeral. I told them Amy was doing better and that she was moving on with her life. Then my phone pinged. Amy was ready and would meet me outside the drugstore.
I crossed the street and saw her waving at me, her beautiful smile on full display. She greeted me with a hug, or what passed for a hug given that her arms were laden with parcels and bags. I took most of them from her and after depositing them in the trunk of the car, I opened the passenger side door to let her in. “Such a gentleman!” she said before kissing my cheek and getting in. “Do we have a reservation for dinner?” she asked.
“I hadn’t thought to go anywhere fancy,” I said. "I was thinking of the pub. It’s trivia night.”
“That does sound like fun, but I fancy a nice dinner in a posh restaurant. See if you can get a reservation at Michel’s.”
“I'll see what I can do,” I said.
When we got home I helped her unload all of her bags and carried them into her bedroom, depositing them on the bed. “I’m going to take a bath,” she said. “You check on getting that reservation, please.” It was getting more and more like we were married; she was even taking to bossing me around. I loved it!
She emerged almost an hour later, dressed up very nicely indeed. She had on a new dress that fit her snugly but not too tightly, showing her figure to her best advantage. Her hair was up, she had on heels and her face was made up. It was the first time I’d seen her like that since Greg left on deployment.
“You look fabulous!” I said. “Turn around, let me see!” She spun around and the hem of her dress flew up, revealing the hint of her thigh-highs and the clips of her garter. "Is she dressing up for me?" I wondered, daring to hope beyond hope that she might be. “That dress is perfect on you!” I gushed. “I’m going to look like a farmhand alongside a princess tonight!”
“You look just fine!” she said, coming to me and tugging on the collar of my best shirt. She kissed my cheek. “Did you get a reservation?”
“It’s a bit late, but I got one, 8:30,” I said.
“Past my bedtime! I feel like a naughty girl! 8:30 is fine. We can go to the pub, you can have your pint of that awful black stuff you like and then we can go for dinner.” She pecked my cheek again and disappeared into her bedroom once more.
She appeared a few minutes later. “Are you ready?”
I hesitated before saying what was on my mind. “For a date with you? I have been ready for almost ten years!”
She smiled at me. “When we get back, I’m going to tell you why I never went out with you.”
“Should I call 911 just in case? I think I’m going to have my heart broken later,” I said in jest.
“No, George, I promise I will not break your heart, not tonight, not ever! You are the best brother-in-law in the history of brothers-in-law!”
“Then we should go,” I said. I’d waited all these years, I could wait a few more hours to hear her say what I hoped she would say.
Our evening was amazing! Amy laughed and sang and we even danced! We almost missed our dinner reservation but we made it just in time. Amy was her old self again, bright, funny, sarcastic and unintentionally beautiful. As much fun as she was having, I was having more.
We caught a cab home because of how much we’d had to drink. She reached over and held my hand, laying her head on my shoulder as we rode in silence. We got out and walked up the steps and as I fumbled with the lock, she giggled. “Greg always had trouble with the lock when he drank!” I looked at her, expecting to see sadness in her face but all I saw was her million-dollar smile. “I’m fine, George, really.”
I finally got the door open and stepped back to let her enter first. “Such a gentleman!” she said again. The door closed behind us and she turned to me, taking my hand. “George, there are some things I want to talk to you about before we go to sleep tonight. Would you start a fire and get us a glass of wine?”
I did as she asked and when she reappeared, she was wearing a long satin robe with a slit up one side. She came to me, took her wine glass and sat on the couch. She patted the seat beside her. As I sat beside her, I noticed that the slit had opened and I could see bare smooth leg all the way to her hip.
“You know what the hardest part of this is now?” she asked. I shook my head. “Greg was an amazing lover. I miss him in my bed more than anything.” She leaned in and kissed me. “In short, I’m horny as fuck and I need to get laid. I could go out and find some guy to satisfy me but why do that when I have a man right here who has loved me for as long as I can remember?” She kissed me again, “Make love to me, George. Make me feel like a woman again!”
I stood up, barely able to breathe. I had waited since I was sixteen for this chance and all I could think about was how I was going to fuck it up.
“Amy, are you sure?” I asked.
“I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life!” She kissed me again. I bent down and scooped her up, carrying her upstairs to her bedroom. When I entered it, I saw candles everywhere and smelled the scent of vanilla and wildflowers.
I laid her on the bed and moved over her, kissing her deeply. “I have waited so long for this!” I breathed.
“Just love me, we can talk after,” she smiled. I kissed her body all over, moving from her face to her breasts and down over her tummy. I opened her gown to find her naked underneath. I moved down and kissed the soft hair on her mons, shaped into a neat triangle pointing me where she wanted me to go. Her thighs parted and her hands pushed me lower, urging me to taste her. The loud moan that escaped her when I touched her soft folds told me that I was doing exactly what she wanted me to do.
She left me to kiss and lick and suckle on her for a few minutes before pulling on my hair to bring me back up to her face. We kissed and then she looked at my face. The tips of our noses were almost touching when she looked into my eyes and whispered, “In the drawer.” I reached over and pulled out some condoms. “I just went back on the pill last week. It takes a month to work!” I got up and undressed with my back to her and when I turned around my erection was sticking out in front of me.
“Oh my!” she exclaimed. “Well, there’s one way you and your brother are not alike!” She smiled and tore the package open, getting out of bed and kneeling in front of me. She took me into her mouth for a few brief moments before backing off. “I'll finish that later!” She tore open the package and rolled the sheath onto me before getting back up onto the bed.
“Make love to me George, don’t think, just do what comes naturally! I’ll explain later!” She pulled me to her and welcomed me in. I positioned myself, moved my hips forward and entered her slowly.
“Oh God yes! That’s what I need!” she whispered as I slid into her. Those were the last words either of us spoke until she had finished drawing her freshly manicured nails down my back as I filled the sheath full of my cum. We lay there for a few moments just looking at each other. She smiled and pulled me down to kiss me.
She wriggled out from underneath me and went to the washroom. When she returned she crawled in bed beside me, still nude and kissed me again. I started to speak but she stopped me.
“George, I know you have loved me for a long time. I never intended to hurt you by dating and marrying your brother. I told you before I just wasn’t attracted to you, and at the time I wasn't.” She kissed me again. “That was then, this is now.” I made to speak but she placed her finger on my lips. “Not done! Ever since Greg died you have been there for me and you have asked for nothing in return. After a while, once my grief started to fade, I began to fall for you. I never knew what unconditional love was until I saw you this past year. You have been and are the most amazing man I have ever known, your brother included. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him to the moon and back and he will always be a part of me but he is gone and now I have you in my life. I am truly blessed!”
I took a deep breath before speaking. “Amy, you don’t know how long I have waited for this night. I dreamed about it, fantasized about it and yes, it did hurt to watch you date and marry my brother, who was as fine a man as I have ever known. He made you happy and that was enough for me.”
“Oh George!” she whispered but I stopped her, placing one finger on her lips.
“Not done!” I smiled and she giggled. “And now we are where we are and if roommates are all we will ever be, I am content with that. But if you want more, I am ready to be whatever you want me to be.”
“Are you done?” she asked. I kissed her and nodded. “My mother was right, I married the wrong brother. She always told me that you loved me more than Greg did. Don’t get me wrong, Greg did love me, I am certain of that, and I loved him too. But the unconditional love you have shown me since he died is something very different that I didn't know existed in the world. And now I love you, wholly and completely. And whatever you want to be, my roommate, my friend with benefits, my lover,” she paused to kiss me. “Or my husband, I will love you to the moon and back!”
“Are you saying we should?” I asked, afraid to say the words.
“If you want to,” she said.
“Amy, this is wrong,” I said. Her face changed from a look of happiness to sadness. "No, not that.” I sat up and the covers fell down, exposing her chest in the candlelight. “I have always dreamed I would get the chance to ask you that question but not here, not like this. Will you give me a week? That question is the most important question I will ever ask anyone and it has to be done right, give me that, please!”
She laughed and pulled me down to her. “Of course I will. Although it’s going to be a bit anticlimactic when you know the answer ahead of time!” She kissed me. “And the answer is yes!”
“Try to act surprised then would you?” I asked. She smiled and nodded. With a strength I didn’t know she possessed, she flipped me onto my back.
“Now where were we?” She grinned and began kissing her way down my torso, stopping to linger every time I reacted to her touch. It took her a long time!
When she took me in her mouth, I was in heaven. I had never felt anything like that before. Granted, my experience with women was rather limited but I had had my cock sucked before. But never like this. She wasn’t just fellating me, she was making love to me with her mouth. She tried taking me into her throat but wasn’t able to. She looked up at me with watery eyes. “I’m out of practice!” She went back down on me, taking long, slow sucks and wrapping her tongue around my shaft.
“Oh, Amy!” I groaned, warning her that I was about to cum. She looked up at me with her impossibly blue eyes and took my offering, holding it in her mouth and showing it to me before swallowing it down. I admit to being a little shocked at her wantonness and I told her so.
“You’re going to love our wedding night then!” She smiled before going back down for one long finishing suck to ensure I was completely clean. She came up and kissed me and I could taste myself on her tongue. She smiled at me and raised one eyebrow and I shrugged, which made her laugh. She lay down with her head on my shoulder and trailed her fingers through my wisps of chest hair. “I am so happy, George, as happy as I have ever been!”
“That’s all I ever want for you is for you to be happy,” I said.
“Make me your wife and I will be the happiest woman in the world!” She reached up and kissed me. “And I will make you the happiest man in the world, I promise!”
