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    Nobis Pacem Chapter 1

    Story written on February 20, 2015 by skydancer.
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    2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 52 votes, average: 5.00 out of 52 votes, average: 5.00 out of 52 votes, average: 5.00 out of 52 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5 (2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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    Number of Comments: 8
    Words: 21804
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=88441
    Author Notes:

    “I’m Christina, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten,” she added quietly as I stepped out of the elevator, moving like I would follow her wherever she chose to guide me. After a couple of steps, I paused. I felt as weak as a kitten inside, and as much as I could sense her kindness,

    “I’m Christina, by the way, in case you’ve forgotten,” she added quietly as I stepped out of the elevator, moving like I would follow her wherever she chose to guide me. After a couple of steps, I paused. I felt as weak as a kitten inside, and as much as I could sense her kindness, I didn’t want her to see how low I’d reached emotionally, so I dropped my eyes. I gave her a small smile and imperceptibly straightened up as we walked further into the hallway. Raising my chin up, I frantically looked for the welcome sight of the double doors that lay about twenty feet down the hall; doors that led into the entryway of my apartment. It truly was my apartment now.

    The man who’d been waiting impatiently behind Christina stepped around us and entered the elevator in a huff. He impatiently jabbed at the button but the elevator didn’t respond.

    “What the fu-“ he started to curse.

    I whispered, without looking at her, “You need to press your thumb or pass your card over the reader or the elevator won’t work.”

    “What?” Christina asked, absentmindedly. Even though I was no longer looking at her I could sense she was still looking at me with concern.

    “Your freaking secure elevator won’t start until –“ the man called out to us, almost shouting, in an irritated voice.

    Christina let go of me and whipped around. In four big strides she was by the elevator doors. “Thanks, sweetness. I’ll call you la-“ the man said, in far friendlier tones.

    “Don’t bother. Don’t email, tweet, or message me in any manner,” Christina said coldly as she jabbed her thumb on the reader and punched a button in the elevator.

    “Oh, c’mon, honey! It was a stupid thing that I did, yeah, but –“ the man responded hurriedly, his voice was pleading now. I turned to look and saw that he was trying to keep the elevator doors open by repeatedly hitting buttons in the control panel; but the doors inexorably slammed shut. The elegant Frank Lloyd Wright – style multi-colored glass paneling of the elevator’s exterior swooshed quietly into place as our elevator sped to the lobby. It was a holdover from the time Nana owned the penthouse – for some reason, the look of it now speared my heart, reopening an old wound.

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    Comments

      • Here in spirit. But this is about a few special L words that play out in a couple’s life in another part of town. In the fringes of the world of the series I’ve been writing; but different. Hope you like it.

    3. Will try this again. Left a message about 4:00 this morning and something happened, it’s not posted. My message was to thank you for posting such a beautiful love story. And that I hope this story will be continued we would like to know what happens to Aerin in the future. Thanks for sharing.

    5. Dainty, Hellbent, and new friends: thanks for the comments. Honestly: was tough to pull this together, but it was worth it. Am v glad you liked it. Ok. I hear you. It may take a while for an update on her story, but it will be coming.

      • Well this was a pleasant surprise. I am always seeking an episode from your creativity. So much, I had to buy a smaller electronic device so that I might read your input on the go. Now, for me buying another electronic anything is saying a lot. I am one of the “dial phone” “get up and change the channel” “do not Text me and expect an answer” old school DIE HARD. But, your writing genius persuaded me to become a mobile reader at my neighborhood “coffee house.” Please continue to write

    6. Beautiful story. I could feel Aerin’s struggle. I would love to read about the 18 months in between their first time and Chris’ final moments. I sure it would be moving.

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