He said nothing, and after a short period of time, I sensed him drift to sleep.
I did not.
He’d held his mood throughout the evening, therefore I was surprised with his continued distance when he’d instigated lovemaking.
I was surprised but I did not demur.
It was what he needed, what I always wanted, and last, it was the only thing I knew how to give.
He deserved more.
I did not know how to give it to him.
But as I lay in his embrace, feeling his strength and heat swathing me, protective and fortifying even in his sleep, I knew the time I allowed excuses to delay me were over.
There would be no more excuses.
I needed to give my Noctorno more.
Chapter Twenty-Four
And I You
Franka
“Franka.”
The sharp tone pulled me from my musings and I focused on Valentine where she sat opposite me in her magic room in her home.
She was staring at me irritably.
“Did you hear a word I said?” she queried with the same irritability.
Unfortunately, I had not.
“I beg your pardon. I have a number of things on my mind,” I shared.
“This has not escaped me,” she retorted. “However, I take the needs of my clientele very seriously and as I’m offering you your first assignment, regardless that it’s as simplistic as casting a love spell, it’s important for you to be very clear on the client’s needs.”
“Of course,” I murmured.
“To make a point that needs not be made, it wouldn’t do for you to erroneously cast a spell on the employer our client hates, even if he’s rather handsome and exceptionally wealthy, when it’s the maintenance man she’s secretly in love with,” she continued.
“Yes, obviously,” I replied.
She gazed at me. “Not that I wish to become involved, but is everything well with you and Noctorno?”
It was not.
Oh no.
Definitely not.
One could say, tragically accurately, I had not been dealing with things well.
But last night I made things worse.
Starting the morning some days ago after his father’s phone call, Noc had decided that he was going to ignore what occurred. He’d swept away the distant mood he’d treated me to the evening before and again became Noc.
This was, until he came home that evening and I attempted to broach the subject.
“Told you last night, not in the mood to talk about it,” he’d replied brusquely.
“Will there be a time you’ll be in the mood?” I’d inquired hesitantly.
“I am, I’ll let you know,” he’d stated conclusively.
And the subject, according to Noc, was done.
I will admit, my approach was weak and I’d allowed him to dismiss the discussion mostly because he again became aloof and I didn’t like it. Indeed, it frightened me enough I knew it would take some time for me to gather the courage to try again.
Therefore I gave it that time (again weak, gads!)
That time included the weekend.
A weekend where Noc worked on the Saturday, but it was the first he’d done so in a way I felt he was doing it to avoid me.
But after a morning driving lesson on Sunday (where he allowed Josette to go on actual streets and where I had the hair-raising—but eventually I’d settled into it—experience of driving on a freeway), he’d relaxed. This meant I felt my Noc with me again as we spent the afternoon and evening drinking and munching on a variety of food in a bar with Glover while watching some sport on television.
I told myself as the days passed that I was allowing Noc time to cope in his head with whatever had gone on with his father, so when I approached him again he’d be more conducive to such.
But mostly I was bolstering my courage.
This I’d decided was bolstered enough last night, a now-unusual evening when Noc came home from work before six.
It started out well considering I’d perused his cupboards and had managed to arrange (quite artfully, to my way of thinking) some crackers and slices of cheese on a plate for him to nibble on with the beer I’d opened for him when he got home.
I did this, for nearly every evening he arrived home and declared he was hungry. Although I couldn’t cook a splendid meal for him, I could do something to assuage his hunger.
Noc had put a slice of cheese on a cracker, doing this with his arm around my shoulders, holding me tucked to his side, and declaring through a smile, “Next thing I know, I’m gonna be coming home to beef Wellington.”
I couldn’t stop the face I made, one likely of revulsion mixed with terror, which made Noc emit a deep bark of laughter before he kissed me quickly and pulled away, putting the cracker and cheese into his mouth.
As he munched, I decided to broach the subject later, when he had a full stomach and thus would be in good humor for a variety of reasons.
He was indeed in good humor.
I made note of that and decided henceforth to be certain there were a variety of nibbles in the house I could arrange artfully on a plate for him to be treated to when he came home.
Alas, his good humor vanished the moment I mentioned his father’s call.
“You need to let up on that, babe,” he’d stated tersely, drawing away from me where we were snuggled on the couch, Noc sitting with feet up on the coffee table, me nestled into his side with my legs curled beside me on the seat.
His terse tone brooked no further discourse.
Even so, I knew I could not be weak. I could not give up. Not on Noc.
No more excuses.
“There are things, darling, that I think we should discuss and they aren’t entirely what occurred during that call with your father. However, I sense that there was something there—”
“Franka,” he started, taking his feet from the table, and the frigid way he said my name not only made me snap my mouth shut, it made my insides freeze. “You’ve made an art of sticking your nose in shit and I see you’ve decided to stick it in this. What I’ve been sayin’ that you’ve not been hearing is that this is not somewhere you can go.”
I didn’t wish to persevere.
But I had to.
“I thought you said what was yours was mine.”
“And what I’m sayin’ now is that I don’t even want this, so I’m sure as fuck not givin’ it to you.”
That didn’t make sense.
“Noc—”
“Let it go, Frannie.”
“But—”
His face transformed to granite, and having that hard look aimed at me, my throat closed.
“I’m warning you. Let…it…go.”
And with that, he left me on his couch and prowled to the bedroom, his closing of the door behind him telling me I was not invited to follow.
I did not follow.
I sat still on the couch, staring at the door, hearing his words.
I’m warning you.
Warning me of what?
Let it go.
The coward in me wanted to do that.
But I knew I shouldn’t.
Some time later, when I’d gathered the courage to join him in the bedroom, I found it dark, and as far as I could tell, Noc was asleep.
I joined him in bed and didn’t wake him.
But I did curl into his back which was turned to my side of the bed.
He did not shift to further accommodate my cuddle.
It was the first night we did not end the day making love.
And it was the first night I did not sleep within Noc’s embrace.
Thus it was not a surprise I was awake hours later when he woke, doing so without the aid of his alarm.
He did not turn into me.
He got out of bed, doing it cautiously as I feigned sleep, and he went to the bathroom, prepared for work, and left the bedroom—and the house—leaving me abed undisturbed.
An
d thus we had the first morning when we started a day without making love.
However, after I’d dragged myself from his bed, I’d found a note propped on the coffeemaker that read:
Sugarlips,
Coffee’s good to go. All you have to do is flip the switch.
Just call Valentine to come get you when you’re ready.
See you tonight.
Love you, babe.
-Noc-
Although the note started and ended in ways that were heartening, he’d made his point very clear.
His warning was understood.
It was now my decision to heed it or proceed as planned, even if, in truth, I had no plan.
“Franka!” Valentine snapped and again brought me back to reality.
“My apologies, I not only have much on my mind, I slept little last night,” I attempted to excuse my rudeness.
“Are you prepared to take on this assignment?” she asked.
“Will I have your oversight?” I asked in return.
“Of course,” she answered.
“Then yes, I’m ready,” I told her.
She studied me another moment before stating, “You didn’t answer my question about Noc.”
“All is well,” I lied.
She knew I lied, I could see it in the shrewd look in her eyes, but I held her gaze, my chin lifted, my meaning clear.
She had her business that wasn’t mine, even if I wanted to be there for her to assist in any way I could.
I had mine.
She gave in. “We’ll work the spell tomorrow.”
I inclined my head.
She tipped hers to the door. “I suggest you watch this maintenance man and ascertain the best way we can make an approach without detection. We need to be close to cast a love spell and he should be alone. He doesn’t simply get stars in his eyes, seek out our client and sweep her off her feet. My work is much more subtle than that. Therefore, yours will be too.”
I nodded and stood.
Having been dismissed, and glad for it, I made my way from her magic room to head to the room below where my crystal ball was waiting for me.
I’d nearly made the door when she called, “Franka.”
I turned to her.
Her gaze locked to mine.
“All will be well,” she said quietly.
I hoped she was correct, but the first time since Noc entered the sitting room I was in at the Winter Palace months ago, I felt my hopes would be dashed.
I said not a word and swept from the room.
I went to my crystal ball, but when I got there, I did not call up this “maintenance man” (whatever that was).
I stared at it thinking other thoughts.
Dismal thoughts.
Fearful thoughts.
Insecure thoughts.
Doing all this finding myself entirely unable to stop it or the growing emotion that rose up inside me, making me feel useless and unworthy of the man who loved me enough to steer me beyond a lifetime of pain when I could not offer the same.
Therefore, when ten digits appeared in my crystal ball, I was startled.
I knew not what they meant or even how they appeared.
I had not called for them (whatever they were).
However, they didn’t go away.
I continued to stare, and as I did the handbag I’d placed on the table by my orb after I’d arrived and before I’d joined Valentine jumped in its place.
This meant I jumped in my seat and stared at that.
My handbag skipped again and I heard a distinct buzz that I knew came from my phone.
I released a relieved breath as I understood what was happening and reached for it, for I was simply getting a text.
I pulled the phone out of my bag and activated it.
However, there were no notifications of a text.
My eyes slid to my crystal ball and a frisson of awareness slinked up my spine.
My ball was telling me something.
My magic was telling me something.
And what I knew was my magic was my magic.
Good magic.
So wherever that magic led me to, in my bones, I felt it safe to follow.
I touched the phone button, went to my keypad and entered the digits from my crystal ball into it.
Sitting straight in my chair, I lifted the phone to my ear and listened to it ring.
Shortly into this, a man’s voice boomed, “You got Lud.”
Lud?
Who was Lud?
“Yo? Hello?” the voice called.
Lud.
Oh no.
Lud!
As in…Ludlum.
The digits were for Noc’s father’s phone.
Balls!
“One more time, someone there?” he asked.
“Hello, Mr. Hawthorne?” I said it as a question even if I knew the answer.
“Right, darlin’, no offense, your job ain’t fun, but I’m not a big fan of marketing calls so do me a favor and take me off your call list.”
“Mr. Hawthorne,” I stated but couldn’t, for the life of me, decide what to say next.
“Will you do that for me?” he asked.
“This is Franka,” I declared.
He said nothing and I thought he’d disengaged.
“Mr. Hawthorne?”
“Franka?”
I nodded swiftly even if he couldn’t see me. “Yes, Franka. Franka Drakkar. Er, Frannie. I’m Noc’s…I’m, erm, Noc’s…well, I’m just Noc’s,” I introduced stupidly.
Gods!
“Interesting way to put it,” he muttered, sounding amused and then suddenly he did not sound anything of the sort when he asked, “Is my boy okay?”
“Yes, yes, he’s fine. Absolutely. I mean, yes. He is. In most senses. Very fine. I mean to say that…. Actually, what I mean is, he’s quite well. But he’s also…”
Drat!
Why didn’t I disconnect the moment I knew who it was?
There was nothing for it, I hadn’t, so I had to go on.
“He’s also, well…not.”
“Damn,” he muttered, seemingly knowing precisely what I was saying. “Uh, sorry, honey. I mean, darn.”
“Cursing does not offend me,” I shared.
He was back to muttering. “Knowin’ my boy, that’s probably good.”
He was right about that.
Abruptly, I got cold feet (not that they’d ever been warm).
Damn my crystal ball.
“I need to apologize. I’m rethinking the wisdom of calling you,” I told him even though I hadn’t actually called him knowing I was doing any such thing.
“No, I’m thinkin’ it’s probably very wise you called me.”
I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t say anything.
“Let me guess, he’s not in a very good mood these days,” he said.
“Well, I think that I’m…what I mean to say is, your guess would be correct but I do believe that it’s me who’s putting him in that mood.”
“Frannie, honey, it is one hundred percent not you.”
Again, I had no idea what to say so I remained silent.
“He gets this way on the anniversary,” Mr. Hawthorne relayed.
The anniversary?
“The anniversary of what?” I queried.
“Judy passing.”
Even sitting, I had to brace my hand to the tabletop to steady myself.
Judy. His stepmother. The only mother he’d known.
The mother he’d been forced to watch die.
“We had a thing,” he went on. “The boys were young when it happened and it was me who made the decision, and Noc didn’t agree with it so we had a go ’round about it. He shared how he felt and he was clear on that, even then. This being she didn’t wanna be buried but I wanted somewhere to go where I could be with her. Where the boys could be with her. So I buried her. And every year, day she died, I get my boys together and we go there to be with her. Take some lawn chairs
and lay ’em out. Bring her flowers. Sit with her. Throw back some bourbon. Talk about her. Have her with us for a while.”
I thought this lovely and horrible, in equal measures.
Noc’s father kept speaking.
“Noc wasn’t a big fan I went against Judy’s wishes and didn’t cremate her. And he’s also not a big fan of going to see her. Know it. Maybe should let it go. But it’s the only time I got with my family back together, all of us, and it may be me bein’ selfish but I don’t care how old he is. I’m still his dad. And she’s the only mom he had. So I feel he should give me that. Me and Judy. He should give us both that.”
It took a moment for me to do it and my voice was not my own when I replied, “I cannot say you’re wrong about that, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Lud, Frannie. Please call me Lud.”
“Lud,” I whispered.
“Knew he wasn’t gonna be able to come this year, made him promise to do somethin’ to remember her there. Reckon she’s with all of us all the time, the only way she can be. So told him I want him to find a pretty, peaceful spot, just be quiet and let her be with him. He said he’d do it. Maybe he’s just humoring his old man but gotta say, as much as I know he doesn’t like it, still hope he does it. And because I’m stubborn and love my boy and my wife, the first one I still got, thank the Lord, the last one we lost and it broke us in a way it took a lot of fixin’ and we still ain’t right, I want him here next year. Want him to bring you. Want Judy to meet you.”
Want Judy to meet you.
I’d never felt more honored.
“I think…I think, sir, she already knows me quite well,” I shared carefully.
And hopefully.
Further hoping she liked what she knew.
“I think you are not wrong. Looked after Noc while she was breathin’ in a way there’s no way she’d quit even after she’d stopped. He found you, she’d definitely start lookin’ after you.”
I said nothing, lost in the glory of knowing after his mother died giving Noc to this world, to me, he had another who looked after him at the same time feeling the loss he’d endured when she went away.
“You there, Frannie?”
“I just…need a moment,” I murmured stiltedly.
He gave me that moment but in his, he said softly, “Damned you do.”
“Sorry?”
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