Chapter 225

“I’ll follow you, even to death—but I won’t live with you any more.”
—Prosper Mérimée, Carmen

PEACEFUL. QUIET. PASTORAL. Unfortunately, we weren’t expected at Tanglewood until Monday and all those thoughts of simple bliss were put on hold as we waited on the bus or wandered around the grounds of the music camp. There were few people in residence in January and a wing of practice rooms was opened to us as well as the dining hall. When the other two groups arrived on Monday, they’d reside at the dormitory, but Emily had gone to work and found a three-bedroom bed and breakfast just off the Tanglewood campus. By noon on Saturday, we were sitting in the cheerful family room of the little lodge and considering what trouble we could possibly get into on a snowy afternoon.

It’s a picture postcard location in the Berkshires. Of course, I wondered if anyone today knew what picture postcards were. Or how to mail one.

This month was supposed to be downtime for us. Cindy and I were supposed to be able to study and practice without the pressures of touring or performing. As a part of our work for the service, we were to mentor the two new deputation teams that were in basic and would join us here at Tanglewood on Monday. Of course, Beca, Joan, Em, and Rachel had their regular jobs to work on, though they could do them remotely with the computers and cellphones provided by the service. Brittany and Desi were supposed to be working on their own classes. Desi was scheduled to start rehearsals for a musical at the school in two weeks. I hoped everything was calmed down by then. Brittany was the first member of Sophie’s new dance team and they were expected to start rehearsals for performances this spring about the same time Desi did.

Donna was taking some well-earned time off. I still worried that she had given up teaching to become our producer. One look at her backstage when we were on tour, though, and we could all see she was in her element. She worked with the house crew in the locations where we toured, made sure lighting and sound were coordinated, communicated between the house and stage for curtain cues and intermissions, and generally made sure Cindy, Desi, Remas, and I were in place when the curtain rose.

Nanette had been doing volunteer work at a local clinic but really took on the role of managing our household. Without her scheduling who was cooking and cleaning, coordinating meals and menus, managing the massive family calendar, and even coordinating the two people we had come into the house each week to clean and do laundry, our pod would have descended into chaos. Like Donna on stage, Nanette in our home was in her element.

That left Remas. Officially, she was on loan to our tour during the fall and had returned to the Young America Orchestra after election day. Dr. D had arranged for her to be with us at Tanglewood, but she was due back in Washington for the weekend performances. I found our gypsy sitting in a window seat looking out at the late afternoon snowfall that was lightly dusting the campus.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said as I nudged my way to a space behind her so I could wrap my arms around her. “What are you looking at so intently?”

“The future,” she said as she leaned back against me.

“Mmm. Can you see it clearly in the snowfall?”

“Can we ever see the future clearly? I performed last night and came home expecting to make love to one of my girls or maybe my guy. Instead, I was loaded onto a bus and shipped off to Massachusetts. I still haven’t gotten laid.”

“Is that what you are looking for out there?” I asked. She unwrapped the hijab from her head, shook out her light brown curls, and leaned back against me, offering her neck to my kisses.

“Maybe. I think I’m going to quit wearing the hijab altogether. It served its purpose. Kind of took on a life of its own and became something I was trapped in. Do you think my hair is pretty enough to be shown in public?”

I ran my fingers through the hair in question, lifting the weight of its curls. Free from the headscarf, Remas’s hair hung down to her shoulder blades. I lifted it back so I could nibble on her left ear and she hummed happily. I worked my hands around to the buttons on the front of her blouse and began releasing them one at a time.

“Your hair is beautiful. You are beautiful, dear heart.”

“Sometimes your little endearments sound so old fashioned, dude.”

“I’m certainly not going to call my lover dude,” I laughed.

“I heard Emily calling her Prius ‘dude’ a couple of days ago. I could be your bae.” Having opened her shirt, I explored inside, caressing her breasts through her bra. My right hand stroked down her torso to her belt and she sucked her stomach in as if to give me room to get between it and the waist of her jeans. I tickled there slightly and then withdrew as she sighed. “Did our hosts leave?” she whispered.

“Yes. They said they’d be back to make breakfast but until then the house was ours.” I kissed down her shoulder and moved her strap away.

“No reason to have clothes on then, is there?” she asked. She reached a hand between us and popped the catch on her bra, releasing her breasts to my questing fingers. I rolled her nipples between my thumb and pointer, searching for the exact pressure she seemed to like best. “It’s so beautiful here looking at the snow in the window seat. Make love to me, Jacob. Please?”

“It might not be the most comfortable place, but I will make love to you anyplace we can,” I said. We finished undressing each other and tried several positions to hold our naked bodies against each other on the narrow window seat. Ultimately, we ended up with her straddling my lap and lowering herself onto my cock as I leaned back against the cold glass. As I penetrated the welcoming chamber, I forgot about the discomfort of the cold.

“I feel so right here. So connected to you. Not just your cock in my pussy but your soul with my soul. Love me, Jacob. I love you so much.” I saw that familiar look of bliss come across her face—a beatific smile, eyes open but unseeing as the experience of being filled physically was reflected emotionally. I leaned forward and captured a nipple between my lips and licked it, flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of my tongue. I could feel her muscles fluttering against my cock, grasping, milking me as she rose to a peak marked by the long and plaintive sigh that issued from her. She settled fully down, pulling me in as far as she could and continued milking me with her vagina as my eruption began and filled her.

She hugged me, trying to keep me inside her as long as possible before I softened, pulsing her muscles to keep me stimulated. I stroked her back and butt, holding her tightly against me.

“I’m leaving,” she whispered.

“I’ve accepted a six-year extension to my service and appointment as principal cellist and concertmaster for the new Pacific Northwest Young America Orchestra,” Remas told my stunned mates and me. “In Seattle.”

“You’re leaving us?” Cindy whined. Tears were running down her cheeks.

“I’m not like you and Jacob, Boo,” she said. “I don’t want a solo career. I want to be part of an orchestra. This is why I play the cello. This is where I belong.”

“I thought you belonged with us,” Desi sighed. “How are we supposed to take you breaking up with us?”

“I’m sorry. I knew I should have just slipped away. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Remas,” I said softly, “we’ve always wanted you to be happy. We’re disappointed that we can’t fulfill the part of you that is key to that. But we love you and we want you to do what is right for you.”

“Come here, lover,” Donna said, holding out her arms. Remas settled into them and buried her face in Donna’s neck. “We always knew there was a chance it would come to this. It’s why you’ve never worn the ring. It was more than just trying to fit with a crew who already had a history and common base of experience in Indiana. It’s always been about you becoming the woman you were meant to be. We love you and we will always support and miss you. Maybe one day, we will find our way back together.”

The floodgates opened and all eleven of us were soaked in tears. When we talked to Rachel and Livy, we knew it would start up again. Remas had been an anchor for Rachel in DC from the start of her service. We found that Dr. D had talked to Remas Friday afternoon and nearly didn’t make the offer because she was committed to keeping our pod together. The new conductor of the orchestra, only two years older than Remas, had insisted that she wanted Remas as her concertmaster and principal cellist. Remas was to return to DC next weekend for a last performance at Kennedy Center with the Young America Orchestra and then leave on Monday for Seattle. There, she and the new director would begin the process of building the expansion orchestra.

It was truly the opportunity of a lifetime for our lover and we would have been heartlessly selfish to try to make her turn it down.

Would there come a day when we could spring back together on the bungee cord of our relationship, like Rachel insisted was the basis for our pod? It remained to be seen. Having a mate temporarily assigned to duty elsewhere was vastly different than having one permanently assigned to a career move in a different part of the country. I think Remas knew that and had chosen not to wear the ring we offered because it seemed so impossible.