A Simple Life

A Simple Life ♥ Chrissy Munder

For John, thank you for the brief glimpse.

I

THE morning light shone bright and welcoming as it streamed into the glass window of his small apartment’s living room. The rays passed through the suncatcher Clark had given him so long ago and sent prismatic shafts of red, green, and blue onto the carpeted floor. Frank Mills watched the display the same as he had every morning for the past year, awake in his leather recliner with a cup of coffee in his hand. The newscaster droned on about the upcoming day’s events on the television set he wasn’t watching. He had already listened to all he cared to. Easy enough as he had been up since four a.m. Frank didn’t sleep as much as he used to. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things he didn’t do as much as he used to. The colorful bands of light never failed to lift his heart; it was a silly thing really, but Clark had bought the suncatcher to remind Frank of when they had first met all those years ago. It worked. Frank might have scoffed when he had opened the gift, but the leaded glass rainbow had been hung everywhere the two of them had lived since.

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“What is it?” Frank asked as he weighed the package in his hand. It wasn’t light, but it wasn’t heavy either. His birthday had already passed for the year, and he and Clark had only been living together a few months. “Open it and find out, silly.” Clark had just smiled that grin, the one that always made Frank’s toes curl and his dick hard and had ever since the very first time Clark had directed it toward him. “What’s the occasion?” Frank held the gaily wrapped package up to his ear and shook it with both hands. He could hear a slight rattle, and Frank looked at Clark questioningly. “God, will you just open it?” Clark crossed his arms over his chest. “Sometimes I don’t know why I bother.” Frank had deliberately taken his time. He carefully peeled the transparent tape away from the paper until he knew Clark was at the breaking point and about to grab the gift out of his hands. He had to work to hide his own smile; Clark was so easy to tease. The wrapping finally fell open and revealed the box underneath. Frank lifted the lid and stared down. “Well?” “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” Frank had asked. The white box was snatched out of his hands with an indignant sniff. “You’re supposed to hang it from the window,

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and every time the damn sun shines through it remember the day we met, you asshole.” Frank had to admit that Clark, a handsome man to begin with, always looked his best when he was excited. The flush of color brought out his dark coloring. It was part of the reason Frank couldn’t resist agitating him. “Like I could ever forget that day.” Frank pulled Clark’s stiffly resisting body toward him, enjoying the feel of the compact muscle beneath his big hands as he brought Clark’s back to rest against his chest. “I was working that summer construction job, helping put up the booths for the craft fair at the college.” Frank whispered the familiar story into Clark’s ear. “I was just finishing up the booth for the stained glass display when this pesky little runt came up behind me.” “Runt?” Clark snorted, but he let himself lean back against Frank’s chest. “Yep, there I was, all sweaty and manly in my jeans and work boots, and this sweet little thing with his black hair all moussed and blow-dried pranced up wearing the tightest jeans I’d ever seen.” “I did not prance.” Clark strategically ignored the comment about his hair. “And I should never have told you that you looked a lot like Kurt Russell that day.” “Hush.” Frank nipped at Clark’s ear with his teeth. “Who’s telling this story? Anyway, you pranced up in those fancy jeans that couldn’t help but catch my eye, and dropped

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that God-awful pickup line, something about where had I misplaced my Indian and Policeman.” “That was a great pickup line.” Clark laughed as he let his body fully relax against Frank’s. He made a point to rub his ass across Frank’s groin in appreciation of Frank’s memory. “At least, the best I could come up with on such short notice.” “I told you that you were missing a few members of the band.” Frank smiled as he felt the push of Clark’s ass. Clark had turned to face Frank, looking up at him, blue eyes filled with love. “And I said….” Frank pulled Clark even closer against him as he interrupted Clark’s attempt to finish the story with a quick kiss and a squeeze to his ass. “And I never looked at another man since.” Frank smiled at his memories and swirled the last of his coffee around in the mug Clark had given him. With his medical history he shouldn’t have any caffeine, but he and that young doctor Clark had arranged for him to see awhile back had managed to achieve a compromise. One cup and one cup only in Clark’s mug. It was how he had started his mornings for much of his life, and he was too damn old to change things now. Besides, Frank couldn’t help but have a good day when he used that mug. It had been a gift from Clark on his sixtyninth birthday. Crazy as always, Clark had insisted they

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actually attempt to arrange themselves into the appropriate position for a sixty-nine to celebrate the occasion in style. It had been more than a few years since things had worked well enough for any kind of fooling around. Frank’s blood pressure medication and Clark’s prostate issues had taken care of most of that side of their relationship. The end result had been more humorous and loving than hot and spontaneous, but neither one of them had complained. “I’m beginning to feel like the little engine that could,” Clark had joked as he let Frank’s cock slip from his mouth. “I think I can, I think I can.” Frank burst into laughter and let his forehead rest against Clark’s thigh. “Christ, can’t you be serious for a second? I almost had something there.” “Not a chance.” Clark groaned as he attempted to balance on his side and push himself upright. “Whose idea was this? My back is going to be stiff for a week.” “At least something is.” Frank stared glumly down at his uncooperative dick. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was damn weak nowadays. “If I had known you were feeling so energetic I would have gotten my hands on some of those little blue pills.” “Ah well, Lover.” Clark curled up beside Frank on their king-size bed. He knew Frank was teasing about the ED medication. The only time Frank had tried one he complained it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. “Give

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me a kiss instead, and we’ll call it even. You know what they say; it’s the thought that counts.” Those were the things that would make their life complete, a simple life filled with love, laughter, and joy. Frank had heard that said at some point. Damn if he could remember where or when now. Still, he and Clark had worked hard at their simple life, doing their damnedest to make it the best one they could.

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II

THE clock on the wall chimed the hour, and Frank woke with a start. He must have dozed off again. Frank clutched firmly at the armrest to his recliner and pushed himself upright, teetering the last few seconds before he managed to find his balance and released the chair with any surety. It looked like he needed to go back to practicing that Tai Chi stuff in the mornings despite his stiff joints. All those advertisements about chondroiton supplements were so much garbage. Either that or Frank’s years of working construction had done too much damage for the glucosamine to repair. Hell, maybe he was just too damn old for it to do any good. He’d have to remember to tell Clark about it. Clark would laugh and then probably tell him to try cherry juice or something else instead. Clark liked all that health food store stuff. His coffee mug rinsed out and left in the strainer beside the sink, Frank went ahead and showered. He carefully held on to the safety bar Clark had the staff at the assisted living center affix to the tile for him after his second stroke. It had been a surprise and yet another sign of the way Clark took such good care of him.

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“I don’t need any special treatment.” Frank had all but snarled at his first sight of the new bar. He had stood there in the bathroom doorway, his broad shoulders still managing to fill the small space despite the slight droop to his left side. “Give me a few more weeks of rehab and I’ll be as good as new.” “What makes you think this is about you?” Clark had tossed the attitude right back at him. “Neither one of us is getting any younger, and I, for one, don’t want to end up on my ass the next time I slip on some shampoo you spilled and refused to wipe up.” “At least I still need shampoo.” Frank knew Clark hated to be teased about his baldness, but he felt too raw, angry enough at the way his body had betrayed him to lash out in a manner guaranteed to hurt. Frank had always been the strong one in their relationship, the one who looked out for Clark. Now he felt lost and unsure. “You are such an asshole, Franklin Mills. Like that buzz cut you insist on wearing needs anything other than a swipe with a washcloth.” Clark stood in front of Frank with his hands on his hips. It had never mattered that Clark was a good foot and a half shorter than Frank, in all their years together he never once backed down. “Maybe I put that extra bar there to give you something to hold on to when I’m pounding your ass in the shower.” “Yeah?” He tried to hide it, but Frank started to smile at Clark’s teasing. He had never been able to stay mad at Clark. “You and what army?”

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“I’ve never needed an army to show you who’s boss.” Clark’s lip twitched, a small tic that meant he was holding back a grin of his own. “Why don’t you get your ass in that shower, and I’ll show you exactly what I put that bar there for.” His navy suit was already pressed and hanging on the closet door. Dottie, the older woman who took care of his light housekeeping, must have picked it up from the drycleaners. Frank wrote himself a note to thank her on the small pad he kept on the dresser and pulled a clean pair of boxers and socks out the top drawer. Dressing was another task that took a bit longer than it used to, and Frank hummed to distract himself from the ache in his fingers as he buttoned the pinstripe shirt Clark told him matched his eyes. David, their grandson, had gotten him some kind of device that was supposed to make buttons easier on his hands, but he could never get the damn thing to work. Strange how things changed over the years, Frank mused, grimacing as the tiny buttons slipped and slid out of his grasp. David had been welcomed into Frank’s heart without hesitation while the birth of his mother, Donna, had almost torn his relationship with Clark apart. He could remember looking down at the floor, the stain of dark coffee spreading outward across the tile Frank had cut and laid with his own hands. Tiny brown tributaries trickled away from the broken shards of the porcelain mug. Frank

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backed away from Clark, away from the stranger his partner had become. “What do you mean she’s pregnant?” Frank had demanded in shock. He barely even remembered what Clark’s young teaching assistant at the college looked like. He put his hand on his chest, certain that something inside of him had shattered into smaller pieces just like the mug. “It’s not bad enough you had to screw around on me after all this time, and with a woman no less, but you were careless about it as well?” His voice had broken at the end as he struggled to hold back his hurt. “I told you I’m sorry.” Clark had followed Frank. The two of them acted out some strange dance of pursuit and evasion until Frank’s back was pressed up against the wall. Clark tried to put his arms around him despite Frank’s protests. “I’m nothing but sorry this hurts you, but I’m going to be a father, Frank. We are going to be fathers.” The fervor in Clark’s voice was unmistakable and unfamiliar. “I can’t do this.” Frank remembered how he had shaken his head and struggled to push Clark away. He felt shrunken, diminished by the words that had stolen away the life he thought he had. “I don’t know if I can do this.” Humiliated by the realization that all he had to offer hadn’t been enough, Frank wondered how he could manage to live with a constant reminder. “But I need you.” Clark’s blue eyes had stared up into his. Those were the same eyes that Frank had first fallen in love with under the brilliance of the summer sun. Demanding

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like always that Frank go along. Confident that Clark’s desire alone would be enough to convince him. “I can’t do this without you.” It had taken weeks for Frank to move back in. Weeks of Clark’s determined efforts to win him over despite the input of their friends and families. Everyone agreed with Frank that Clark had finally asked for too much. But from the first time they had met, Frank had never been able to deny Clark anything. Later they had stood together at the hospital nursery, united side by side in their resolve to struggle through this latest trial. Frank refused to visit Donna’s mother after the birth. He let Clark and the lawyers handle the adoption paperwork. Donna had charmed him from the first time he had held her, but Frank had never been able to make himself meet the young woman Clark had the affair with. Frank panicked for a second when he couldn’t find the tie chain Clark had given him on his fiftieth birthday, but there it was, the box placed in different drawer than he had thought. He picked up his pen with the cushioned grip that was supposed to be easier on his swollen knuckles and wrote that down on the pad too. Damn memory was worse than a sieve now days. He surveyed his reflection in the mirror behind the bedroom door. His hair, gray now rather than the light blond of his youth, looked fine, carefully trimmed in his signature crew cut. The fabric of the navy suit stretched neatly across his shoulders, and Dottie had put a nice shine on his shoes.

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Frank counted himself pleased Hopefully Clark would be as well.

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A Simple Life ♥ Chrissy Munder

III

WITH a final glance around the apartment Frank took his keys from the bowl on the antique washstand by the door. Clark had found the stand in a resale shop in the lakeside village of Saugatuck and refinished it one long and lazy summer in between trips to the beach. They had sold the cottage once David had gone off to college but had kept a few of the special pieces Clark couldn’t bear to part with. The wooden sign dominated the front yard; the bright red “sold” notice prominently displayed. Just like always the two men stood side by side as they looked back at the cottage. Frank couldn’t help his sorrowful exhalation. Everywhere he looked were memories of the years they had spent here. There was the hosta bed he and Clark had planted their first year before they had accepted that Frank didn’t have the time to do all the repairs they wanted to the cottage himself. It had to be redone when the siding was replaced the year after. Luckily, the plants had been hardy and able to withstand the damage wrought by the contractors, and they now over-filled the bed, spilling out over onto the grass. Frank could hear the splash of water from fountain in the backyard, centered in the herb garden they had placed off the wood deck he had built. So many summers they had spent

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here together. Clark had written his first novel on that deck. He had claimed the sight of Frank sweating while he worked in the yard with his shirt off was inspirational. He still wasn’t sure about all that, but Frank could remember teaching first Donna and then David how to drive the pontoon out on the lake. The “party barge” David used to call it over the summers spent with friends. Later he called it “the grandpa barge.” The road in front of the cottage had finally been paved. Frank visualized how it had looked before with the choking clouds of dust that used to billow up every time a car drove past and remembered the way you were obligated in the rural community to wave whether you recognized the driver or not. Just like it had been yesterday he could hear David’s choking gasps, his tears when the youngster had fallen from his bike down by the culvert, and Frank had to dig the gravel out of his torn and bloody knees because Clark was too squeamish. Leaves were just starting to release their grasp from the trees that lined the drive, falling in gentle spiraling arcs to the ground; neither Frank nor Clark would be there to rake this year. “Are we doing the right thing?” Frank couldn’t help but ask Clark one last time. “Should we hold on to it for David?” “We’ve gone over this already.” Clark had hugged him close and reached up to rub the top of Frank’s head and the

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buzz cut he loved to make fun of. “We’ve had our summers, our falls. It’s time to let someone else make memories here.” The checklist placed prominently on the back of the door demanded Frank’s attention. That had been David’s idea. It helped, but Frank still hated the fact it had become necessary. A quick glance was all he needed to make sure the lights were off and the windows were shut in case of rain. Frank did have to walk back into the kitchen to doublecheck the burners of the stove were off and that he had turned off the coffeemaker. He didn’t iron anymore so he could ignore that. “Good morning, Mr. Mills.” The arch voice came from the apartment doorway next to Frank’s as he locked his door, and he grimaced before turning with a polite smile. “Good morning to you, Mrs. Wilson.” Damn old busybody. Frank had finally accepted the necessity of moving to the assisted living complex, but he hated the forced camaraderie that came along with it. All these nosy old people, nothing but time on their hands and the boredom to keep track of who went where drove him nuts. Mrs. W. was wearing her company-coming housedress today. Just in case he forgot that alone told Frank it must be Thursday, and her daughter would be coming to visit. The garish purple clashed with the brilliant copper color of her dyed hair, visible even around the small, old-fashioned, steel gray curlers firmly skewered to her head with pink plastic pins.

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Frank mentally shuddered at the sight. The man who invented a realistic reddish hair dye would make a fortune. Until then, well, Frank certainly was old enough to remember Bozo the Clown even if he knew better than to mention it. “Off to see Mr. Sullivan today?” He supposed she wasn’t the worst nosy old woman in the world, but Frank never would forgive her determined pursuit of Clark when they had first moved in and she had thought they were just roommates. “Hush,” Clark had demanded as they stood wrapped around each other in the hallway. “You’ll wake the neighbors.” “I don’t care,” Frank had replied. They had been out bowling and had a few beers. Damn, if the sight of Clark’s ass every time he threw the ball down the lane didn’t still get him hot. Even if Frank couldn’t do anything about it the way he used to, he still savored the feeling. “Come here.” Frank knew Clark’s protests were purely perfunctory. He always had been a cheap drunk, and Frank loved how silly a few beers made him. They laughed together as Frank pressed Clark up against their door and took his mouth in a bruising kiss. “Oh, Frank.” Clark let his arms flop around Frank’s neck, and he had sighed in the exaggerated way he had when Frank finally raised his head to breathe. It mimicked the

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famous “Oh, James” from the Bond movies and never failed to make the two of them laugh. Tonight was no exception. His hand touched Clark’s mouth, one finger tracing the curve of the bottom lip before Frank covered Clark’s mouth with his hand to stifle the sound of his laughter. It was Frank’s turn to try and be sensible. “Shhh. You’ll wake that old biddy next door.” “So?” Clark replied as he pressed his hips into Frank. Oh yeah, Frank thought happily, the connection between them was still as strong as ever. Frank lowered his head once again, his lips finding and pressing tenderly against Clark’s. He loved the noises Clark made: soft, needy little pants of air. The way Clark’s hips rocked against his leg in search of friction despite his lack of hardness. He reached behind Clark and grabbed a handful of ass. God, Frank loved that ass. He ran his fingers in greedy memory over the back seam of Clark’s jeans and pushed his thigh between Clark’s legs. “Oh, Frank.” This time the exhalation was a serious declaration of need, and Frank fumbled for his key even as they humped against each other in the darkness of the hallway. “Oh, my Lord!”

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They had been too wrapped up in the moment to hear Mrs. Wilson open her door, and both Frank and Clark looked up in shock as their neighbor’s door slammed loudly shut. “Whoops,” Clark had said into the stunned silence before they both burst into laughter and the sexual tension between them dissipated. “That’s right,” Frank said. Of course he was off to see Clark. She knew that. The old bat had probably written down his every move for the last several years. At least if he ever needed an alibi he knew where to go. “I do admire your devotion, Mr. Mills.” One large, fleshy hand was placed upon her bosom; her gaudy assortment of rings flashing on her fingers. Clark had always hated her overly dramatic gestures and jewelry. “I only wish my Alfred had been so dependable.” “I’m sure he had his moments.” Frank tried to be diplomatic. It wasn’t Abigail Wilson’s fault her husband had backed out of his promise to take care of her till-death-dothem-part at the first opportunity. The huge coronary that had taken him in his sleep had left her wealthy but without purpose, if Frank felt charitable. If not, well, wealthy with no one to torture was a comment that seemed to fit the bill. Clark used to try to fix her up with some of the widowers they played poker with from the South wing, but so far no one had shown interest. “He tried. I’m sure he tried.” She sighed again and nodded in sorrowful agreement. One of the curlers that held

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the orange strands captive had loosened, and it bobbed along with the motion. Frank tried not to stare too openly at the bizarre sight. “Is your daughter going to be here soon?” Frank regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but it was hard to be cruel to the old fool. “My goodness.” Heaven help him, she actually blushed. “I can’t believe you would remember a thing like that. Yes, she should be along any minute.” Her hands flew up to her head, feeling the knobby protuberances with dismay. “And here I stand gabbing with my hair undone. Tell Mr. Sullivan I said hello. I do hope he’s doing better?” “I will.” Frank nodded his goodbyes without answering her not very subtle inquiry and marched over to the elevator with the closest he could get to his once normally erect posture. That had been the hardest thing about the strokes: acceptance of the things he couldn’t get back no matter how hard he worked. He nodded to the guard at the front desk. Younger than both Frank and Clark, Ted Williams was a good man. At least he knew enough to treat the residents of the center with respect and never with any of the condescension that set Frank’s teeth on edge. He might be getting old, but he wasn’t stupid.

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IV

ONCE outside, the sun lived up to its bright promise, and Frank held his face up to the sky for a brief second, letting all of his senses have free rein and enjoying the fresh air. A lifetime spent outdoors working construction left him edgy and irritable when he spent too much time indoors. He could hear the songbirds that visited the feeders set up on the front lawn trilling and chirping as they darted about in their pursuit of free seed. But standing with his eyes closed made him feel dizzy, damn his lack of equilibrium, and Frank reluctantly opened them before he attempted to square his shoulders once again and continued his way the sidewalk. “Hi, Lucy.” Frank greeted the salesclerk at the small flower stand outside the North wing of the center. It was just another one of the little touches he appreciated about the facility. As hard as the transition had been, Donna and David had done a good job when they had picked this place out. “Hi, Mr. Mills.” Lucy replied cheerfully. “What’s it going to be today?” Every time Frank came to visit Clark he made sure to stop here and get some flowers to brighten Clark’s room.

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“Maybe some daisies?” Frank mulled over the vivid display. There was a nice selection available. Clark had tried once to turn Frank’s interest in the outdoors and gardening into an understanding of the formal language of flowers, but Frank could never remember the different meanings for the different colors and types of blossom. Eventually Clark had given up in disgust. Frank wished now he had tried harder. “Daises are nice.” Lucy nodded as she retrieved the flowers from their water-filled containers. “Especially these colored ones. So how did last week’s poker game go?” “It’s been that long since I saw you?” Frank looked troubled for a moment. It hadn’t been a week since he had last seen Clark, had it? He knew he had marked the dates on the calendar. “Sure was.” Lucy pulled some tissue paper out while the flowers drained into the absorbent pad. “My sister Tina worked the stand for me while I was on vacation. She said she made you a nice carnation bouquet.” “Oh, yeah, I remember her now.” Frank didn’t really, but that was just another one of the aggravating things about getting old. How could he remember so clearly something that had happened twenty years ago and not remember what happened two days before? “Tina also told me she thought you looked a lot like Kurt Russell.” Lucy winked at Frank as she handed him the paper wrapped bundle. “I told her you were already taken.”

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FRANK hated the smell of the North wing. From the moment the doors closed behind him it smothered him. You couldn’t mistake the stale odor of those dying slow and painful deaths. The worst day of his life had been the day they had moved Clark here. Frank had felt incomplete ever since. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Frank knew that. But he still felt guilty. He had battled to keep Clark with him as long he could. Hadn’t Frank promised to take care of him? It had been hard though, hiding Clark’s deterioration from Donna and David, but Frank had tried. Eventually Clark’s state had become too noticeable. The truth was it had been too difficult for Frank to take care of him at the end. “Hello there, Mr. Mills. How are you today?” The overweight nurse sitting at the front desk greeted Frank as he entered Clark’s floor, her welcoming face crinkled into a thousand lines with her smile. Frank appreciated her cheerful manner in depressing place. He wondered sometimes how managed, surrounded day in and day out by sadness death. “Hello, Susan. I’m well, thank you. How are doing?”

this she and you

“Oh, I can’t complain.” She laughed again, her hand slapping down on the desk. “Well, I could, but who wants to listen? Say, are those flowers for me? You really shouldn’t have.”

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“Had I known you were working today I certainly would have brought some for you,” Frank replied gallantly. The joke between them never changed. One day he was going to have to surprise her and bring her some flowers for real. “You’re such a doll, Frank.” She leaned over her desk to pat Frank’s arm. “I do like that color suit on you. Clark is going to be real impressed.” “How is he?” Frank laid the flowers on the counter to sign in. He was glad she noticed. Clark had loved him in his jeans and flannel, but Frank felt these visits demanded extra care. “Well, he had a rough night, but he’s doing better today.” She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “They’re talking about changing his medication.” “Again? They just did that last week.” The news bothered Frank. He thought the doctors overmedicated Clark as it was. “Does David know?” David had been given both Frank’s and Clark’s medical powers of attorney when Donna had moved out of state with her new husband. Susan nodded, and her dark braids swayed. “I called him just like you asked. He made an appointment with the doctors for tomorrow.” Frank gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I really appreciate the way you look out for us.” “You two are a couple of my favorite boys.” Susan waved her hand to dismiss Frank’s thanks. “It’s my pleasure.” She

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handed him his guest pass and watched as Frank clipped it carefully to his suit pocket, ignoring the way his hands trembled. “Get on with you now, that man of yours is waiting.” Out of habit Frank knocked lightly on the door of Clark’s room before he let himself in. The windows were open, he noticed with approval. Sunlight streamed in, the rays of light falling on the man sitting in the chair facing the window. No matter how many times Frank visited he was always horrified at the stark condition of Clark’s room. It was so contrary to the loud and colorful man he had spent so many years with. But the staff insisted that the clean pastel walls and lack of furnishings were soothing to Clark, and how could Frank argue with that? Frank walked in and bent over to kiss Clark’s cheek. “Hi, sweetheart. How’s your day?” He placed the flowers in Clark’s lap and sat down in the chair beside him. The staff had given up on moving the chairs apart; Frank always pushed them back together when he visited. Clark’s blue eyes stared steadily out the window without even a flicker to acknowledge Frank’s presence. Frank carefully regarded Clark’s appearance, pleased to see his pajamas and slippers were clean and unwrinkled. The quality of care Clark received here made him feel somewhat better.

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“Susan told me you had a difficult night last night. I’m sorry to hear that. But you’ll see David tomorrow. What do you think of that?" Frank unbuttoned his suit jacket and rocked back in the chair. He carried on the one-sided conversation, pausing periodically to see if Clark was going to respond, and then continuing on until his voice became hoarse. He had asked Susan once if he was foolish, talking for hours like this, but she had assured him that deep down somewhere inside Clark he knew Frank was there and what Frank was saying. Frank desperately wanted to believe her over the doctors. “I should probably put your flowers in some water.” Frank pushed himself out of the chair with his usual difficulty. “Do you still have the vase from last time?” He groaned as he bent over and rummaged under the sink in the small bathroom. “Here it is.” After filling the vase with water and arranging the flowers to the best of his ability, Frank brought them back into the room and placed them on the windowsill where Clark could see them. “Lucy picked out some very pretty colors today. She knows how much you love the flowers I bring you.” This time Clark blinked, and Frank hesitated before he heavily sat back down. It had been more than four months since he had heard Clark make a sound or even register anything outside of his own inner world. “Wherever you are

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in your head, Clark, I hope you are remembering our life together.” Frank reached out and took Clark’s right hand in his. He let his swollen thumb stroke over the lined skin decorated with brown age spots until it reached the tricolored, braided wedding band on Clark’s finger. The match to his own. “What is it?” Clark had asked as he turned the small velvet box over in his hands. It was Frank’s turn to be nervous. Would Clark feel the same way he did? “Open the damn thing and see,” he said gruffly. The look on Clark’s face had said it all despite the rough note to his voice. “You’re a sentimental old fool, Franklin Mills.” Clark’s hand had shook, and the two rings inside the box clinked softly together. “Yeah, but I’m your old fool.” Frank took Clark’s free hand in his and clutched it tightly while he stared into the blue eyes that had been his world for so long. “Will you marry me, Clark Sullivan?” “I’m not wearing white.” Clark wiped at the moisture on his cheek and sniffed. “I’ll tell you that right goddamn now, no matter what Donna says.” Frank stared into Clark’s now-clouded blue eyes and let himself remember the love and amazement that had filled them the day they had been legally joined as one in front of

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their family and friends. It didn’t matter how many years they had spent together, in that moment Clark somehow became more Frank’s than he had ever been before. “That was the happiest day of my life, Clark.” Frank murmured softly. “And we had a lot of good years together. I owe you for that.” He held Clark’s hand tightly, unwilling to let go despite the way his own trembled. When Clark didn’t react, Frank sighed and settled back into his chair. “I was just remembering the day you gave me the suncatcher….” When the floor nurse came by for the afternoon patient check the two old men were sound asleep, the late afternoon sun illuminating the clasp of their wrinkled hands. She smiled wistfully at the flowers on the windowsill and took a blanket from the bed to place over their laps. She had never seen a couple so devoted to each other and only hoped that she and her husband could find the same lasting strength in their own relationship. Frank had told her one day the secret was to live a simple life. She looked at the two men and wondered if he was right.

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The joke in CHRISSY MUNDER’s family is that she was born with a book in her hand. Even now, you’ll never find her without a book or seven scattered about. Forced to become a practicing realist in an effort to combat her tendency to dream, her many years of travel and a diverse assortment of careers have taken her across most of the U.S. and shown her that there are two things you can never have enough of: love and laughter.

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A Simple Life ♥ Chrissy Munder

A Simple Life ©Copyright Chrissy Munder, 2009 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America June, 2009

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