Love, Red Read online

  Copyright © 2015 by Gwynyth Rutledge

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America

  By Happy Flying Always, LLC

  ISBN-13: 978-1-943432-53-0

  ISBN-10: 1-9434325-3-8

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition published May 30, 2015

  Cover design © 2015, Harmony Clearwater Grace

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without the prior written permission of the Author.

  The product names used in this book are for identification purposes only. All trademarks and registered trademarks are the property of their respective owners. Other company, product, and service names may be trademarks or service marks of others.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to

  everyone who has ever been in love,

  will be in love,

  or is hoping to find true love someday

  About the Author

  Gwynyth Rutledge is the name I have given myself for the alternate universe that I live in as an author. But in other worlds, I’m an analytics expert, a Mom to two incredible daughters and seven amazing humans who call me Granny.

  I’m someone who has learned to embrace the alternate universes that I step in and out of. My history is like so many others. I’ve dealt with tragedy and triumph, with depression and euphoria and some of it all at the same time.

  Like everyone else, I have regrets, but it’s the ability to move beyond the challenges of life that have led me to write this book.

  This is a work of fiction inspired by and based on real events. In order to maintain their anonymity, I have changed the names of individuals and places and may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations, and places of residence.

  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Love, Red

  Prologue Love Letters – Memories – The Flip of a Coin

  Chapter 1 – Once Upon a Time

  Chapter 2 – A Friend in Need

  Love Letters – Our Second Encounter

  Chapter 3 – Memories

  Love Letters – Coming Back to New Orleans

  Love Letters – His Memory – The Staircase

  Chapter 4 – Full Disclosure

  Love Letters – Fantasy #1 – Escaping

  Chapter 5 – Why I Hate Vacations

  Love Letters – Life’s Regrets

  Chapter 6 – The Real Reason for Going to Norway

  Chapter 7 – The Wisdom of Our Siblings

  Chapter 8 – When Life Gives You Lemons

  Chapter 9 – Moving On

  Love Letters – Should We or Shouldn’t We?

  Love Letters – More Regrets

  Chapter 10 – Psychic Powers or Supernatural Abilities?

  Love Letters – What Planet Am I From?

  Chapter 11 – Following My Heart

  Love Letters – The Fantasy of Seeing You Again

  Love Letters – My Version of His Response

  Chapter 12 – Breathe, Gwynyth, Breathe

  Chapter 13 – The Fantasies That Put Him Over the Edge

  Love Letters – Fantasy #2 – Meeting in New Orleans

  Love Letters – Fantasy #3 - The Ability to Trust

  Chapter 14 – A Dream Comes True

  Chapter 15 – Sweet Ecstasy

  Chapter 16 – Two Days of Heaven

  Love Letters – Heading Home

  Love Letters – The Rest of the Story

  Chapter 17 – Life Goes On

  Love Letters – Anticipation

  Love Letters – Impulse and Affection

  Chapter 18 – The True Meaning of Friendship

  Love Letters – Fascination and Passion

  Love Letters – Fear and Hope

  Chapter 19 – Our Journey Continues

  Love Letters – Lust and Love

  Chapter 20 – Meeting in Daytona Beach

  Chapter 21 – Creating a Base for Our Future

  Chapter 22 – Going Home, Again

  Love Letters – Our Time in Florida

  Chapter 23 – Basking in Memory

  Chapter 24 – Forgetting How to Inhale

  Love Letters – Please Don’t Throw Away What We Have

  Chapter 25 – Is This the End of the Road, or Just the Beginning?

  Love Letters – My Version of His Response

  Chapter 26 – Finding My One True Love

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks and A Gift for You

  Love, Red

  Prologue

  Love Letters – Memories – The Flip of a Coin

  Hi Rune,

  It’s amazing, sometimes, the little pieces of information that are ingrained in our memories. What makes one incident allow vivid recall and others just fade into obscurity?

  I loved to fly. It was such an exhilarating experience. The desire to be in the cockpit of a plane began with the first flight I took when I was seven years old. There was such a feeling of freedom to be soaring among the clouds. But when you asked me to join you that afternoon, my heart started racing.

  Once we were in the air, I wasn’t sure if the “high” was from being ten thousand feet above sea level, or you sitting next to me. Think it was a little bit of both. Getting away from the craziness that was life at the time was my priority that day.

  After we landed, I didn’t want to go home. We drove to the Lake Front on the south shore of Lake Pontchartrain and parked. The chemistry between us was undeniable. You were only 23 years old and I was the slightly older married woman.

  We were talking about our feelings, and you asked me what I wanted you to do. All I could say was, “I just want you to kiss me.”

  You turned and leaned your head back on the driver’s side window. You spoke the words I didn’t want to hear. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.” My mind understood, but my heart didn’t.

  We continued to talk, but then without any warning, you pulled me towards you and started kissing me. The first kiss was soft and gentle, with our lips barely touching. I could feel the smile forming on my face, but I could also sense the passion igniting, as we continued to savor the taste of what might be next.

  Needless to say, it was the cliché from every romance novel. I could have sworn that fireworks were exploding in the air – not likely in April, even for New Orleans. Little did we know that we were about to start a journey that neither of us could have ever anticipated.

  The next morning, we went flying again. Not sure what the pretext was for going back to your apartment, but that is where we ended up. The kisses continued as we debated our next move. Neither of us had ever been in this kind of situation before.

  As it was with most of our conversations, there was always something to make us laugh. Not sure which one of us jokingly said we could just flip a coin. Heads we would do what our minds told us to do, and tails – well, you know what tails meant.

  The first coin flip was tails. Panicked by that outcome, we decided the best two out of three would determine our fate. It switched to heads, but we didn’t like that either, so we just kept flipping. The coin kept coming up heads.

  We debated if we should do what the coin was telling us to do or if we should give in to the desire. It’s very hard when your moral compass tells you one thing, and your body is telling you another.

  We took the coin flip as a sign, and I got up to leave. We knew we were doing the right thing, but we struggled with the decision. Our morals and values had won
out.

  At least they did, until we reached the door. Instead of opening the screen door, your hand reached for the handle of the wooden door and closed it. You took my hand and starting walking towards your bedroom. I wasn’t following you; I was following my heart.

  Don’t know how the clothes came off, but I do remember you laying me on the bed, slowly spreading my legs, and running your hands up and down my thighs. I remember you playing with my breasts and how they reacted to your touch. I was so wet. You grinned and talked about the waterfall for the first time.

  I was trembling; I wanted so much to feel you inside of me. And the next thing I remember was you moving on top of me, and slowly, you entered me.

  The sensations were everything dreams are made of, but nothing I had ever felt before. As our bodies moved, I was lost in the physical desire. I didn’t want it to end. You were lost in the pleasure of knowing what you were doing to me.

  No one had ever made love to me the way you did. Each movement of your pulling out and then thrusting back in seemed so deliberate. The hunger for each other was as if we felt it would be the only time we were ever going to be together. We had to experience every movement and hold the thoughts in our minds. The desire to please each other grew stronger with every move.

  Your hands were exploring my body. I prayed for time to stand still. Neither of us was ready for the experience to end.

  Luckily, for someone so young, you knew how to keep yourself from letting go too soon. You would take breaks from the movements and smile at me. I asked you what you were thinking. You responded with how good it felt to be inside of me.

  It was two hours before you finally couldn’t hold it in any longer. You let go of all the desire you had and came inside me for the first time.

  Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?

  Sweet dreams,

  Gwynyth

  Chapter 1 –

  Once Upon a Time

  I always joked that if I ever wrote my autobiography, the title was going to be “Believe it or Not, My Life is Based on a True Story.” Although this book is classified as fiction, it is inspired by events of my life that I felt I had to share.

  It’s the story of love that every woman has known. It’s the story of a friendship and how life intertwines with love. It’s the story of two people who, as hard as they tried not to, kept finding moments in a three-decade span of time to spend one more unbelievable night or weekend together. It’s the struggle of morality versus desire. It’s the story of what would make someone who always lived by the rules, break those rules – not just once, but over and over again. It’s also the story of how difficult love can often be.

  So why share such incredibly personal information? Why share the love letters that I wrote for the man who captured my heart from the moment we met? Why share the words I wrote when we reconnected after being apart for almost a decade?

  The answer is very simple. By sharing the letters, the fantasies, and the hopes and dreams, I’m giving power to the love that each of us is capable of. It’s a way of showing that even when love isn’t easy, we humans have a resiliency that is beyond compare.

  • • •

  Our story began in New Orleans in the early 80’s. Rune was a blond-haired, blue-eyed Norwegian in his early 20’s with the face and smile like no other I had ever seen. He had the chiseled features of a Nordic god and a body that was lean, but not so perfect that he seemed unattainable. Yet there was something mysterious about him – just like his name.

  I loved standing next to him as the power of his 6-foot-2-inch frame enveloped not only my body, but my soul as well. I loved running my fingers across his lips, but even more than his kisses, it was the way he held me that took my breath away every single time. It was how his arms would first encircle my body, and then squeeze me into him and hold on for dear life – as if letting go was going to break the spell that was bonding us together.

  I, on the other hand, was a 31-year-old, overweight mother of two girls who was in a very unhealthy and unhappy relationship. It was my second marriage, the one in which I had been seduced by the charm of a Portuguese pathological liar – Miguel.

  It was easy to succumb to Miguel’s charm because my first husband, Alex, had told me that I was too fat to love. Somewhat hard to hear when you are 5-foot-4 and weigh 125 pounds. He used to call me “fat butt.”

  We were high school sweethearts. Our first date was the day after my parents got their divorce. And that Sunday, Alex introduced me to his family.

  Hindsight is an interesting phenomenon. Looking back, it’s easy to see I fell in love with the idea of his family more than being in love with him.

  It wasn’t a great first date. I was still in shock over the events that had taken place at the courthouse. Being 16, it was mandatory for me to say which parent would be my guardian.

  I was a senior in high school, but my mom wanted to move back to Texas. Mom and I had talked for many hours, and she was fine with my decision to live with my Dad. The decision was a no-brainer. It was only for 7 months, and then I would be off to college.

  But as we walked out of the courthouse, my Mom turned to me and said, “I never want to see you again.”

  It was like a knife through the heart. “Mom, why are you saying that? You want to move back to Texas. It’s my senior year. You said it was okay for me to stay with Dad.”

  “Yes, I know I did; but I still thought in the end, you would chose to be with me instead of the man who is abandoning me.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Tears were rolling down my face from her words; but the papers were signed, and there was nothing else to do. In one day, my world was turned upside-down.

  But fate had something else in store. The universe took away one Mom, but it gave me another one two days later, and yet another a few years later.

  Alex’s mother, Lillian, was the person who taught me how to love someone who wasn’t family. From the day we met, she took me under her wing and loved me with the same depths that she loved her own kids. She had her own set of challenges, but her teachings have been passed on to many others.

  Unfortunately, Alex and I were doomed from the beginning. I think we both knew it. Alex was the geek (before being a geek was popular), and I was the semi-popular girl. Not quite a part of the “in crowd,” but the girl everyone counted on to get things done.

  We headed off to college together and had planned on getting married the summer before our senior year. We were never giddy in love, but I don’t think either of us thought we would ever find someone else, so we kept moving forward.

  Once engaged, we made a decision that changed our lives completely. And as strange as it may sound, in our senior year of college, we were both still virgins. But the day he put that ring on my finger, we decided not to wait any longer.

  A friend had given Alex a condom, and we decided to use it. Afterward, we immediately regretted the decision and made a vow not to have sex again until our wedding day. That day came a little sooner than we expected. Two months later, I found out I was pregnant.

  Due to the lack of money, I had to drop out of college to take care of our daughter, Julia. But after seven years of marriage and a second daughter, Marisa, Alex decided he didn’t love me and told me he wasn’t sure he ever had.

  I was devastated. Not as much about losing Alex, but realizing he had never cared. My ability to cope with the rejection was handled by gaining seventy pounds in seven months.

  And that is when I met Miguel. I knew I was rushing into the relationship, but I was desperate for validation of my own self-worth from a man. I was fraught with the fear of never being loved; but as bad as that relationship was, I’m a firm believer in destiny. If I hadn’t married Miguel, I would never have moved to New Orleans. And if I had never moved to New Orleans, I would never have met Rune.

  • • •

  It is hard to imagine what either Rune’s or my life would have been like if we had never met. Would I ever have kno
wn how powerful love could be or understand the depths of emotions that he triggered in me? Would either of us ever have understood the power of friendship, which is what kept us connected over the years?

  Our relationship started with phone conversations. There is something about getting to know someone before you ever meet them in person. Without the physical, we have a chance to connect with someone’s true self. We aren’t hindered by the beauty or the plainness of a face or body. We have the chance to hear the spirit, connect with the words, and have the anonymity that allows us not to be judged.

  Our lives intersected because Rune and Miguel worked together in the shipping industry. Their jobs required them to meet ships when they came into port, and every day, one of three of us — usually me — would call the dedicated phone number and jot down the information about where and when the ships were docking.

  Our talks started very innocently.

  “Hi Gwynyth, do you have the 7 pm report yet? Does it have a time for the Empress Star and port number?” he asked.

  “Hi Rune, yes, she’s docking at Pier 43 at 9:30 pm. Any other ship you are looking for this evening?”

  “No, that will do it, thanks,” he would say as he hung up.

  But then something happened. At first, it was the occasional “How was your day?” or the “How are Julia and Marisa?” exchange. Over time, we started talking longer and longer when Miguel wasn’t home, and Rune had no ships to meet.

  He hadn’t been in the states long; and even though he was brave enough to leave his native Norway, he was still very young. And we both were a little lonely and big talkers. Very few of the conversations that we have had over the last 30 years ever lasted less than 2 hours. It was apparent that we were establishing a friendship, and since we had no idea what either of us looked like, we could just be ourselves.

  I’m not sure what made him come to the townhouse that very first time. I have to admit, I was intrigued by the voice I had been speaking to for all those months, but I never thought of us being anything other than friends. As bad as my marriage was, I wasn’t the type of person to have an affair. It’s just not something a good Catholic girl would do – even a non-practicing one.