A Good Man
Prologue: You're Going to Miss Him

Copyright© 2011 by Marc Nobbs

JUNE 2048

I held out my hand to the elegant elderly lady in the long black dress, then stepped forward to kiss her cheek when she took it. Despite being in her seventies, Amy Brown had all the poise, grace and beauty of a woman at least half her age. She pulled me in for a hug and held me tight. I had a great deal of affection for her, although I wasn’t as close to her as I was to her husband.

Will had been like a father to me from the time I lost my real father. But more than that—more than being my mentor, my teacher and then my business partner—he was also my friend. His death wasn’t unexpected. He’d been ill for over six months. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

I pulled away from Amy and held both her hands. “It was a beautiful service,” I said. “Will would’ve approved.”

She smiled and nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “He loved you,” she said. “You were the son he never had.”

“I loved him too,” I said, my voice faltering.

Death has played a significant part in my life. Yes, I’m a Probate Lawyer, so I deal with those left behind by Death every day, but that’s not what I mean. Death has haunted me, followed me and taunted me. I’ve lost ones I love. I’ve loved ones I lost. And when Death has interfered, it’s changed my life, sent it off in at a tangent. But if it weren’t for Death, I wouldn’t be the man I am today. Death made me stronger. Although it never felt that way at the time.

“Ready to go, Honey?” my wife asked as she touched my arm.

I looked into her eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes always seemed as if they were seeing right into my soul, even after all these years together. As I stared, she smiled the stunning smile that had captured my heart in our youth and never let go.

I nodded. “Yeah. Time to go.”

She addressed Amy and said, “If you need anything, just call. We’re here for you, whatever and whenever.”

Amy smiled in response. “Thank you.”

We left Meadowview Cottage and I drove us home to Blackthorpe. Nothing was said on the journey. Nothing needed to be said. After entering our large house, I closed the door behind us and tossed my keys on the shelf above the radiator in the hallway.

When I turned around, she wrapped her arms around my neck and reached up to kiss me. A sweet slow burning kiss. The kiss of two people still in love despite more than thirty years together.

“I love you,” she said.

“Love you too.”

“It’s days like today that remind me how much, you know?”

I nodded.

“You’re going to miss him, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

She took her arms from around my neck and held my hands instead then cocked her head towards the stairs. “Come on, I want to show you just how much you mean to me.”

I let her lead me up the stairs and into our bedroom, where she kissed me again. She undressed me while we kissed, then tipped her head back and sighed as I undressed her, lavishing each area of exposed skin with kisses until she was naked. Even at fifty-five she was a sight to behold. Her sunny blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, straight and sleek with no hint of grey. Her eyes, still as vibrant and vividly blue as the day I met her, but these days edged with crow’s feet concealed by her delicate make-up, sparkled with love and lust. Her breasts, hanging heavier on her frame than when she was a young woman, nevertheless still looked good enough to eat. How could I resist?

She moaned her pleasure and held my head to her chest. She still had such responsive breasts—another thing that age could not diminish. We tumbled onto the bed and I slid a hand down her torso to dip into the source of her femininity. She moaned again and pulled my head away from her breast by my ears, tugging me towards her face for another long, loving kiss.

“Make love to me, Paul,” she said in a voice only just more than a whisper. “Make love to me.”


As we lay in each other’s arms afterwards, my mind drifted back in time, thinking back on the choices I’d made that led me to her. Death played its part, yes, but it was the choices I made that were more important.

And the choice that started it all?

Chapter 1 »

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