Learning to Love: Introduction

A withered hand reaches up and brushes away the tears. The smile is lovely on the old woman's face, recalling a classic beauty with her still elegant features. Catherine Endicott is ninety years old but her vivacity still gives her a timeless charm. Even so, her visage stands in sharp contrast to the fresh beauty of the girl beside her on the red velvet settee.

"Bette, I understand your pain. The death of a relationship crushes any woman and it hurts me because I love you. I know that you feel as if you will never love again. Your youth makes you feel as if your young life is over. Even though I know it doesn't help to hear it right now, I will say it anyway. Life does go on and it always contains new and wonderful surprises. You just have to want to look. When she looks at her great-grandmother, Bette's eyes contain little hope.

"I know that time will help, but as for my future love, it all seems so hopeless."

The girl shares her great-grandmother's aristocratic bone structure, but her coloring is different. She has long, wavy dark hair and a beautiful, angelic face. Her warm eyes reveal her tender loving soul.

The old woman studies her granddaughter's face for a long moment before she picks up the bottle of Beaune Clos des Mouches and refills their glasses. Candlelight glints off the crystal as she hands Bette her wine.

"You know the story of how I met your great-grandfather, meeting in Germany as we did after I had been living in Europe for years. I have never told you, and you have never asked, I might add." She pauses to give the girl a teasing look of reprove, "how I came to be living in Europe."

Bette interrupts with her first laugh of the evening as she asks, "Do I sense a cautionary moralistic tale about to begin."

"Morals, no! Not this story, at least not in the way people like my family would have interpreted them. As you know, our ancestry goes back generations, old money and proud of it. I was too until the year I turned twenty-one. It was 1920 and my parents had planned the biggest party of the year in honor of my birthday. No doubt it was because I needed cheering up, but also because that was just how they did things.

"I did need cheering up though. Badly. My fiance had been dead two years, having been killed in the war. For me, the hurt felt like only two weeks had passed and I thought my parents were concerned about me. It seems my parents were worried but not about my feelings. When I saw that they had invited every eligible bachelor in Newport, I knew what they had in mind. I turned my back and fled. My mother caught up with me and slapped me hard across the face. She informed me of my duty. Feelings at this point were irrelevant. I needed to find myself a proper husband. Breed in other words. That day, I left their home and ran all the way to New York. I needed to escape and start my life again. My idealism had been crushed by war and the pragmatism of American society. I wanted to get out of the country. I wanted to go to Europe. Historians would later call us expatriates. I didn't know then that I had a label. I only knew that I would suffocate if I spent another minute in my vacuous life." Catherine takes a long sip of the rich red wine and looks into the fire. She is lost in the memories, her eyes very far away. Bette's voice brings her back to reality.

"I know how you must have felt. Mother is so hard on me sometimes. She doesn't understand how I can still love Michael after what happened."

"Bette, love does not die just a relationship has ended. Your mother does not know of this, she has never known real hardship or loss. These are the building blocks of great character. We often learn a great deal from our worst misfortunes. Losing my fiance taught me the value of love. You will learn from what you have been through."

"Knowing that doesn't make it any easier, Grandmamma!" Bette cried.

"No darling, of course not. I talk to you this evening to give you hope, a belief that there is a world out there worth discovering. You need to get outside of yourself, Bette."

"Maybe you're right, but I wouldn't know how."

The girl pauses, looks away and takes a sip of her wine.

"What did you do next, in New York, I mean?"

"Well, I loathed the idea of taking a liner across the Atlantic. It was microcosm of the world I was trying to escape. So I kicked around New York looking for alternatives. In a small restaurant, I met Margot. Beautiful and vivacious, we became instant friends. She was the kind of person who can see an unhappy stranger and care about what makes them sad. And so she did with me. She made me laugh. Margot was maybe five years older than me, blond, and with the merriest blue eyes. She was from the Netherlands and her uncle was the captain of a cargo ship. She invited me to book passage in one of the ship's cabins when it returned to Holland that evening. Impulsively, I agreed. I jumped at the chance to share my voyage with such a sweet person.

"I met her uncle later that afternoon, Captain Pieter Neeltje. Oh, Bette, I had never met anyone like him. Six foot four and hard as the sea could possibly make him, his eyes were the most piercing blue. I remember I looked into his tanned and weathered face and tried to find words to fill the yawning silence. I stuttered and stammered my way through the introductions and pleasantries. Gallantly, he bent and took my hand into one of his. His hands were so very large and the skin of his palm felt rough. He bent low and brushed his lips on the back of my hand, his blond hair falling low on his forehead. My heart skipped a beat. ‘I am honored to have you aboard my ship, Miss Endicott,' he said, speaking very good English as I recall. ‘The honor is mine, Captain,' I said, not hazarding the pronunciation of his name.

"With an utterly charming apology, he excused himself, having to return to the business of preparing the ship. I smiled, looking forward to running into him on the voyage. I admitted as much to Margot as she helped me settle into my cabin.

"By noon of the first day, I was only half dressed, lying down on my berth and so sick that I didn't care what happened to me. This was how the Captain found me, summoned by my concerned friend. His care was immediate. Hot brandy and water was sent up. The smell made my stomach turn. I remember him saying, ‘Drink it, little one. Come now. Trust an old sailor. That's it.' The liquid burned all the way down and I must have made the most absurd face because the Captain laughed. I did, however, begin to feel drowsy and more comfortable before long. His hands had the gentle command of a nursemaid as he undressed me. I moaned as he pulled my dress over my head. His sea-roughened hands brushed my nipples. For an instant, he caressed them, and despite my stupor, I felt myself respond. He removed my drawers, separating my legs to do so. He must have bent very low as he did so because I could feel his breath on the tops of my thighs. He tucked the covers around me and I slept.

"An insistent knocking woke me. I did not know the time or place for a moment, but I knew that I was feeling much better. It took me a moment to stumble out of bed and another to find a robe to throw over my nakedness. The knocker proved to be a sailor with a formal invitation to dinner with the Captain and his niece. The thought of dining with Captain Neeltje flushed me with excitement. I conjured up his masculine scent from the memory of our encounter. I pictured the way his lips had curved when he smiled. I remembered his fingers touching my breasts. When he had touched my nipples, there had been a tension between my legs that almost felt like a dream. The sailor cleared his throat. I had not realized I had closed my eyes. The poor boy looked quite uncomfortable. Before departing, the sailor informed me that he would return in an hour to show me to the Captain's quarters.

"Frenzy! I was a mad woman as I went through my trunks. My room soon took on the appearance of a crazy quilt with clothes scattered everywhere. I simply did not know what to wear. Everything seemed too cute and so wrong. Captain Neeltje was unlike anyone I had ever met in my previous life. My fiance and I were both so young when we met and fell in love. My relationship with him and all my previous beaus had been about hearts and ribbons and romance. The Captain, Pieter, made me aware of his masculinity and my body's response to him. He made me feel like a woman.

"I finally decided on a dress, deceptively simple in its elegant line. Its sapphire silk brought out the color of my eyes. Stubbornness had made me steadfastly refuse to cut my hair in the newfangled and mannish bob so I twirled my hair into a French twist. The mirror revealed a woman who appeared a great deal more sophisticated than she looked. My eyes glistened with girlish anticipation.

"The sailor was prompt and I was gratified at the look of appreciation in his eyes. I realized that I must have presented quite a transformation from the bedraggled state in which he had first found me. I took his proffered arm as he walked me down the long corridors to the Captain's quarters.

"Margot's not here yet? I asked as soon as the door closed behind me. The Captain walked forward to greet me. He kissed my hand again and then shrugged, ‘My niece is indisposed for the evening.' Seeing my look of concern, he added, ‘You needn't worry. She frequently has headaches. Please come and sit, Catherine.' Looking into his hopelessly blue eyes, I did not think I would miss my friend. ‘You look enchanting,' he said and his eyes traveled the length of my body in a glance did not go unnoticed.

"He pulled out a chair at a little table near the center of the room. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. A mistake. The masculine essence of Captain Pieter Neeltje assaulted my nostrils, a seductive combination of pipe tobacco, leather and the sea. My head swam. As if on cue, our meal arrived and I was happy for the distraction. Dinner was marvelous although for the life of me, I can't remember what I ate. I probably should have been even more uncomfortable than I already was, considering the Captain's quarters consisted of a single room and his bed lie nestled in a darkened corner, wrapped in curtains of heavy brocade. But outside, the water gave a soothing sound to the atmosphere, its own soft music. And the Captain himself put me at ease. We talked of all manner of things and I found him more and more irresistible as the evening wore on. He was a man who used his hands to communicate and I became enthralled by the intricate dance of his long graceful fingers.

"At one point, the conversation lulled and I stared pensively into my glass of wine. I must have looked sad because the Captain moved closer and said in a voice that washed over me, ‘You have been hurt, little one. Hurt here, I think.' His hand reached over and he pressed his fingertips to my heart. I gasped but did not pull away. ‘Yes, I can see that you have been,' he continued. ‘Hearts are magical creations, Catherine. They can be mended. A kind touch can begin to heal the broken heart.' I moaned because his kind touch had deepened as he stroked the soft flesh of my breast through my dress.

"I said something like, ‘Captain, please...' He got up and walked around to the back of my chair. ‘I am not your captain, Catherine. Say my name,' he said with the power of command. ‘Pieter,' I said softly, closing my eyes as he deftly removed the comb from my hair. His long fingers penetrated the strands and shook the tresses free until my hair came down, falling past my shoulders like a silken curtain.

"He hands grasped my shoulders and pulled me up, turning me around. I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. Our gaze caught on fire and I felt an immediate transformation as his lips fell on mine. I became a temptress, one of those mythological creatures who lure sailors to their doom. My tongue taunted his. His erection was hard and throbbing against my leg. Seductively, I moved my body against his, rubbing his eager member with my thigh. I wanted to tease him, knowing I was tempting him to take me.

"I had been playing with fire and I shouldn't have been surprised that I unleashed a demon with my enticement. Pieter ran his hands roughly over my body, grabbing hold of my dress. Without warning, he tore the silken material, revealing my naked body. My nipples were swollen with passion, erect and available to his mouth. He fell on them like an animal, sucking and nipping my tender nubs. I almost swooned, but he caught me up in his strong arms and carried me to his bed. He parted the curtains and revealed a mammoth bed, hand hewn and held together with sturdy hemp rope. Rustic, masculine, so like him. Pieter laid me out with newfound tenderness and I waited with breathless anticipation as he undressed, feasting my eyes on his body. His scarred broad chest almost blocked out the lamp and narrowed slightly to hips and then muscular legs. I took in the long shaft of his penis with some trepidation. He stood over me and looked at my body for an eternity as I lay against the warm woolen blankets of his bed. I fought the urge to lower my arms from the position above my head, to cover myself from his gaze. ‘So beautiful,' he murmured. And I did feel beautiful, beautiful and on the verge of true womanhood. The fear turned to anticipation.

"He covered my body with his own. His hardness found a soft haven between my thighs. He did not press the issue, but instead, bent his head and fed a nipple into his mouth, lightly tasting the flesh with luxurious leisure. The man had regained utter control of himself even as I lost mine. He made me moan and writhe as he pulled my nipples into taunt points, sucking at the turgid flesh with absolute control. I was quite driven mad by the sensations running rampant through my body. I writhed under him, my soft skin rasping against the roughness of his. His mouth moved down my body, licking and exploring my delicate hollows and sensitive planes.

"Before I could resist, he parted my thighs and he licked the tender skin on the interior of my thighs. His mouth skimmed the length of my sex, breathing air into the slit. ‘I need you, Pieter.' I gasped not knowing what I was asking for exactly. I parted my thighs further and moaned imploringly. I could feel moisture oozing out of my opening and Pieter knelt to dab at my spending with a gentle tongue. I had thought that my own fingers were heaven, but his tongue! Pieter's tongue swirling up and down my swollen womanhood, each velvet touch sent me into ecstasy. Every lick that brushed my satin lips, that sneaked inside. INSIDE! Oh God, that wonderful tongue went inside me. It was warmth on warmth, heat on heat, wetness sliding over wetness. My back arched, every muscle tensed. His talented tongue found my clitoris and he teased it with flicks before drawing it into his mouth and sucking. I began to beg. I wanted him to take me and I cried out, my inhibitions shattered.

"The look on his face was pure possession as he moved back to my side. ‘Catherine, I want to give you pleasure and that you shall have, but you will experience a moment of pain as I push through the wall of your virginity. Don't be afraid because the pleasure will return.' "As he said the words, his hand had reached down and parted my sensitized lips. He stroked my tender little nub with infinite gentleness. ‘I'm not afraid, Pieter. I want to experience life. I don't want to feel dead anymore.

"Strong and fast as a tiger, he moved on top of me. He guided his swollen sex into the entrance of my virginal passage. He paused waiting perhaps for some sign of reluctance. I gave him none. I only held my breath, the anticipation gripping my lungs. With a powerful thrust, my virginity was no more. I buried my face in the hollow of his neck, biting my lip to keep quiet.

"‘Scream, Catherine! Scream if it hurts!' he said with urgency. I did scream then, loud and long. A catharsis that emptied my soul of all that was lifeless.

"Pieter pressed his lips to my throat, murmuring, ‘Relax, Cat. Relax.' His strokes had slowed to a gentle rocking rhythm. Rotating my hips experimentally, I was surprised to find the discomfort lessened and was replaced by a tingling sensed of fullness. ‘Move with me, sweet,' he said and I offered up my hips to his provocative thrusts. So tentative at first, I became eager as his driving hips drove his cock deeply into my quivering passage. The lips of my sex swelled and sucked with each stroke of his powerful shaft. He took possession of my mouth in a burning kiss, his tongue thrusting into mine even as his manhood invaded into my delicate tunnel. Deep within my body, something fluttered to the surface. As it struggled for recognition, the feeling became all consuming. White heat emanated from where his prick ground into my sex. I felt the sensation echo through every part of my body.

"I screamed again, but in pleasure, pleasure that I could not contain within my body. Pieter groaned. He sounded primal, animalistic. I felt liquid heat flood the very center of my being just as I lost touch with everything, save my senses. Our bodies blended time and time again until every blissful spasm ceased and I was enveloped in a warm blanket of contentment. Pieter held me and trailed kisses over my cheeks and brow. We lay entwined on the bed, silently holding each other until sleep took us both."

Catherine's breathing had become rapid during her recitation. Her hands rose to cover her cheeks and feel the warmth of her flushed skin.

"Wow! Grandmamma, that was incredible. I can't believe you were ever that wild!"

"Oh, Bette. Your generation did not invent the sex act and that little episode began a career of wildness. I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of my passage, I assure you."

"Grandmamma, can I ask you a question. Did Aunt Margot set you up? Was she really indisposed?"

"No, of course she did not have a headache. She wanted me to end up in Pieter's arms. She had been scheming ever since she had met that sad little girl in New York."

"Didn't you feel betrayed?" Bette asks, her personal feelings making her ask the question.

"No, I did not feel betrayed at all. Yes, my Margot used deception to lure me into the arms of her lover. No, he was not her uncle, of course. She saw my sorrow and sought to make me happier. It proved to be good medicine. That night, I felt happiness for the first time in two years. I was able to come to terms with my past and I had been awakened to a new future. In that light Margot's deception was a gift."

"It's hard for me to see it that way," Bette says stubbornly. "I don't think the end ever justifies the means when it comes to deception."

"Am I saying that? I guess I am, Bette. Intentions are important. You might be surprised that your sainted little great-grandmother used her wiles to trick someone into something she wanted once."

Bette looks skeptical, but very interested.