Damned If I Do

by M. J. Schiller

  "Amber would do this funky thing where she would tap on the window pane, kind of like typing, and Becca and I would watch her, scared to death. She told us she conversed with the spirit world and an evil spirit named 'Bloody Mary' would come and get us." She laughed lightly. "It's silly to think about it now. But believe me, it was plenty frightening then."

  "Yeah. I know what you mean." We were quiet for a moment. "Did my dad tell you we went to a cemetery?"

  "Ooh. No. Creepy."

  Scott yawned. "Yeah."

  I peeked through the door to glimpse in the mirror, but, strangely enough, I couldn't see them.

  "My brother, Don, and Amber, they were pretty mean sometimes. Don used to do this one thing to annoy me. He'd make up stupid little songs and torture me with them, like, 'Ooh, ooh, ooh, Dani smells.' Used to drive me nuts. I remember wanting to punch him."

  "So, why didn't you?"

  "Oh, I would have never done that. I was more the peacemaker in the family."

  I smiled. I could see Dani and Don going at it as kids.

  "Does Zoe ever pick on you that way?"

  "Nah." Another yawn. "She's pretty cool. She just likes to boss me around and mess with my stuff..." His voice trailed off and they were quiet again. I listened intently, but heard nothing, except Dani's soft sigh. I pushed the door a crack and stepped inside. Dani's eyes were closed and she sat with her legs crisscrossed, her head tilted back against the wall. Fingers were strumming through Scottie's hair rhythmically as he lay in her lap. Scott's chest rose and fell at regular intervals. The floor creaked and Dani's eyes popped open in alarm. Seeing me, she held a warning finger to her lips.

  I tiptoed over and slid down the wall to sit next to her, my knees bent, arm loosely around them, peering into my son's face.

  "He had an upset stomach," she whispered, still raking her fingers through his hair, seemingly without thinking. I realized with unease that my girlfriend—if that's what Dani was to me—just took care of my son while he threw up. Not at all cool. Sure. She was a mom. Knowing that helped. But she wasn't his mom, and that kind of love was the only thing to get parents through some situations, like dealing with a sick child. Still, her voice was gentle when she spoke to him, even tender.

  I looked at her, amazed. "Thank you."

  She fixed her eyes on me, her forehead wrinkling quizzically.

  "For taking care of him," I explained. "That was above and beyond the—"

  "It was my pleasure."

  Pleasure? We sat for several seconds looking at Scott, the only sound Dani's nails skimming along his scalp, and the ffflipp the hair made as it faded through her fingers.

  "Well, I guess I should carry him to bed." I made an attempt to rise.

  "No. Don't," she said immediately, throwing her arm out to grab me. "Please, let him sleep. He must be exhausted. I don't want to wake him again."

  "Okay." I settled down and Dani laid her head comfortably against my shoulder. I took the hand she placed wearily into my lap and held it. I wasn't tired anymore. Being next to her charged me. I knew our time together was coming to an end, and the thought killed me. I wanted to be alone with her, to have her in my arms... Who was I kidding? I wanted to make love to her again so strongly the need for her was like a scent filling my nostrils and seeping into my pores.

  She picked her head up, gaze flitting over my face, hers taut. "You saved my daughter's life today."

  I squeezed her hand. "We saved her life."

  She put her head down, but wondered a few minutes later, "How in the world did she get that chain wrapped around her ankle?"

  "I asked Zoe, but neither of them saw what happened. I can't believe she wasn't hurt worse than she was."

  She shivered. "I know. We were lucky."

  We were silent, and I thought about how she said 'we.' 'We were lucky,' as if we were a unit. Maybe there was hope.

  Dani jumped slightly and lifted her head. She put her hands on the ground on either side of her, the muscles rigid, sucking air in through her teeth.

  "What's wrong?"

  She whimpered. "Ooh. I've got one of those leg cramps."

  "Well straighten your leg out."

  "I can't. I don't want to wake Scott." A second ticked away. "Mmm..." She moaned again and pressed her back against the wall, clearly in intense pain but trying not to disturb the head in her lap.

  "Dammit, Dani," I whispered loudly, unable to bear the pain etched on her face. "Straighten your damn leg." I touched it and she about went through the roof. Carefully, and painfully slowly—for both me and her—she stretched it out. She breathed a huge sigh of relief and panted, and, while jostled a bit, Scott remained asleep... for a few seconds anyway. Then he stretched and rolled on his back. Dani's face fell. Scott opened his eyes sleepily.

  "Dad?" he mumbled.

  "Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?"

  He took a moment to reply. "All right, I guess."

  "Good. Do you want to go to your bed?"

  He nodded and rolled over again to stagger to his feet. I stood and helped Dani up. Grimacing, she rubbed her thigh to try to shake off the lingering effects of the cramp. I smiled and pressed her hand, then put a hand on Scott's shoulder to follow him out, but he turned before he left the room.

  "Thanks, Dani." He yawned.

  "Sure thing, Scott."

  I smiled at her again and trailed him out the door to tuck him into bed. Dani padded to her room behind me. After Scott settled in and rolled on his side, tugging the blanket over his shoulder, I rose to follow Dani. I thought about the kiss we shared earlier and smiled, imagining how I would follow up on that kiss. But, when I got to the door, Dani had basically fallen on her bed and passed out. She lay on her stomach, her face nearly at her pillow, one arm curled, the other lying straight along her side. Her feet were hanging off the end.

  I sighed. I couldn't exactly play Casanova to a dead person. At least I could make her comfier. I entered the room and knelt with one knee on the side of the bed, reaching around her waist to undo her belt buckle. I got it open without a problem, but her jean's button was more difficult and she began to stir.

  "Mmm..." she mumbled, her forehead creasing. "What are you doing?" Her voice was muffled by the covers and her exhaustion.

  "I'm helping you out of your pants."

  She wiggled, fighting me. "Mmm... sto-o-op!"

  "Dani," I snapped. "I'm not trying to seduce you. I'm only trying to make you more comfortable." She lay still, then. She was either being more reasonable or fell asleep. I worked her pants down inch-by-inch, moving them from side-to-side over her gorgeous hips. I heaved, sliding them all the way off, almost working up a sweat in the process. With a loud, weary, but victorious exhalation, I checked out her long, bare legs. She wore a pair of red, lacy, what I thought they called string-bikinis, and they fit her perfectly, gliding gracefully along her curves in a way that stirred in me a strong desire to grope her flesh. I resisted, of course. But the urge was definitely there.

  I sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh, wishing, uselessly, things had gone another way. I moved the hair from her cheek and bent to give her a soft kiss. But once close, the scent of her skin compelled an inward groan. I lingered, skimming my lips over her hair, pausing to kiss her neck, then reeling it in with effort. I closed my eyes to gather myself, still with my face hovering above her hair.

  "Thank you." Her voice came out startlingly clear. For a moment, my heartbeat accelerated hopefully, then I realized she breathed way too evenly for her to be awake. I wandered over to the closet and pulled out a blanket and unfolded it. I snapped it out and watched it float before landing on top of her body. She had a knee drawn up on one side in what looked like an uncomfortable, but terribly sexy, position. I went into the other room and crawled in with Scott.

  I didn't feel the least bit guilty for the erotic dreams I had about her.

  Chapter 18

  Danielle

  When I woke, I lay on my stomach, my view in line wi
th the clock, which read 10:14. I gasped and rolled over, trying to gauge the truth of the time offered by the light in the room, but it was murky and a steady drizzle dripped outside. I sat, realizing I didn't have my pants on. I frowned. I didn't even remember taking them off. I found my jeans on the floor and pulled them on, hurriedly brushed my teeth, and headed out to the front room. The foldout was restored to its couch position and the low hum of the TV came from Zoe's room. I started to go in there, but spied Tucker sitting outside on a Rattan chair, presumably staring out at the rain falling underneath the awning covering most of the concrete patio.

  He hadn't noticed me yet. He wore a white t-shirt and jeans and his arms were folded behind his neck, the muscles bulging out of his sleeves. As I reached the door, I stopped to admire him and study his expression. He looked thoughtful and sad. I wished I could hear his thoughts. He turned when the door slid open behind him and smiled at me, but the corners of his mouth still refused to hide his melancholy.

  "Hey, babe. Good morning."

  "Or is it afternoon?" I asked sheepishly. "I can't believe I slept this long."

  "You needed it." He pulled me in between his legs and nodded out to the rain falling beyond the awning and onto the already green lawn. "Besides, it was a good day for sleeping in."

  I caressed the side of his face. "It also seems to be the kind of day to make you sad. What's bothering you?"

  He blinked. "Nothing." He still smiled, but his voice was strained.

  I continued to search his face, unconvinced, and hurt he wasn't sharing his thoughts with me, but, since he didn't add anything, I decided it would be better to switch subjects. "How's Scott?"

  The smile became more genuine. "He's fine. Whatever it was, it's gone. He ate a whole stack of pancakes."

  "Uum... pancakes." My hand went to my empty stomach involuntarily.

  "There's some left. Want me to warm them for you?"

  "Thanks, but I can get them." I headed in and he followed. "Did you shower?"

  "Mmm-hmm."

  He sat at the table with me while I ate but was quiet.

  "So... I guess it's the art gallery today," I ventured. "I could take the kids if you'd rather stay here and—"

  "No," he said quickly, almost sounding panicked. "I want to go. Besides, you might need all the hands you can get."

  "True." I observed him over my glass of juice. I abruptly set it down. "Tucker, if something's wrong, I wish you'd tell me."

  He looked at me, then glanced away. "I'm... I'm just not looking forward to saying goodbye soon. Not knowing—"

  Tabby picked that very minute to come running in. "Mommy. Mommy. You're up!"

  "Hey, honey. How's my girl this morning?" I gathered her in, still in her cupcake p.j.'s, and she knelt on my lap playing with my hair as I brushed my nose against her sweet-smelling skin. She giggled when I tickled her ear with my breath.

  "Are you eating Tucker's pancakes?"

  I nodded.

  "They're good, aren't they?"

  I laughed. "Yes, they are. How many did you eat, you little piglet?" I tickled her stomach.

  She looked at Tucker.

  "About a half-dozen, I think," he answered for her.

  I gasped. "Did you really?" She giggled wildly.

  Probably hearing the racket, Scott and Zoe came out of the bedroom. "Hey, what's going on out here?" Scott said with a smile.

  "Good morning." The warmth enveloping me after they came in surprised me. "How is everybody this morning?" I looked at Scott meaningfully, not wanting to embarrass him if he didn't want to talk about it, but wanting to know how he felt.

  "A lot better than I was last night," Scott said, obviously not embarrassed at all. "Are you eating the rest of Dad's killer pancakes?" He came and stood next to my chair and I wrapped my arm around his waist, drawing him into me.

  "Yes. I didn't know he was such a good cook." I looked at him with a grin, but he watched us strangely again. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

  "Who's up for the art gallery?" he interjected. A chorus of "me's" thundered, including mine. "How soon can you be ready, Dani?"

  "Oh, I'll just put on a ball cap." I rose and took my plate.

  "No, take your time. Zo's got to take a shower anyway, right?"

  She gave a frustrated huff. "Right, Dad." She headed to the bathroom.

  "Come on, Tabby. Let's finish watching Scooby Doo. It'll take her forever." Scott gave us a long-suffering look. "She'll have to primp, and try on clothes..."

  "What does 'primp' mean?" Tabby said as they vanished inside the bedroom. I was sorry I couldn't hear the answer, as I'm sure it would have been humorous.

  Tucker and I were again alone. He stood leaning with his hands on the top of one of the wooden kitchen chairs. I wanted to ask him more to try to figure out what bothered him, but he said, "I'll wait for you outside." He went off to resume his former position in the Rattan chair.

  I frowned, trying to tell myself I didn't know what got into him. But I knew what it was. We would be leaving tomorrow, and our future together remained up in the air since I couldn't seem to commit to it. I knew I loved him, knew it by the very fact my heart ached for him as he sat with his back to me in the rain.

  Not knowing what I could do to fix things, I went in to take my shower as the cold rain continued to fall outside.

  Tucker

  The dreary drizzle somehow comforted me. I listened to the tip-tapping of the rain hitting the gutters and the different sounds created by water running from the grill, from the awning, from the rooftop, thinking it strange water could make so many different noises.

  I never fell back asleep. Every time I tried, images of Dani with Scott's head in her lap ran through my head. She was every bit the mother Gina wasn't, and I wanted that for my kids suddenly. Wanted it so badly it ticked me off. It irritated me because I never wanted a mother for them before, not like this anyway. Sure, I'd wished for it from time-to-time—on Zoe's first day of high school, when she was so afraid of moving from her tiny parochial school to the gigantic complex on the edge of town—when Scott broke his arm and I felt like a woman would be better at comforting him—when my daughter began her period. Still, I thought the three of us—Zoe, Scott, and me—made a pretty good team. We didn't need anyone else. Up until now. And the idea that could all be taken away from us shortly made me miserable.

  Not to mention the fact I needed her for my own reasons. Loving her felt so right, so natural. Leaving her would kill me. But how could I convince her to let go of the pain of the past and live her future? Live it with me—and Scott and Zoe. I stood, then paced the small, square patio restlessly.

  I caught sight of her as she entered the living room. She'd braided her hair and wore a long-sleeved white shirt with a stiff collar, a black suede vest with fringes, black jeans, and short black boots. Her head was tilted to one side as she tried to put a backing on some turquoise earrings and my heart stirred as it did nearly every time I saw her. I went in immediately.

  I cleared my throat. "You look nice."

  She blushed, either from the compliment or from being embarrassed by the outfit. "Yeah. This is my Western look. I was so anxious to be here I didn't pack enough. I usually wear this in Denver when we go horseback riding or out somewhere. My dad gave it to me."

  "Well, I like it."

  "Thank you. You're sweet." She walked to me slowly, and I fought a strange urge to run. Her eyes showed concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked quietly.

  "I'm fine, Danielle," I lied.

  She took a few fingers of my left hand in hers, seeming to struggle with something to say. In the end, I guess she couldn't find the words.

  Zoe came in looking cute in a short red plaid skirt, a preppie, button-down white shirt she left untucked, a black tie, loosened at the neck, and boots. "I'm ready, Dad," she said, disgruntled. I was sure she would have added an "Are you happy?" if Dani weren't there.

  "Come on, everyone," I called. "The bus fo
r the art shop is pulling out shortly."

  Scott charged out of Zoe's room a few seconds later with a whoop, Tabby riding on his back. "Let's go."

  As we headed out the door, Zoe and Dani both said, "I like your outfit," at the same time. They laughed, Dani throwing her arm around Zoe's shoulder as the two left, their heads bent together in conversation.

  Hands On Art Studio lay about twenty minutes from us in the middle of nowhere. It seemed as if the owners converted several farm buildings into art shops—one devoted to glass, one to metal, and a large one housing areas to create mosaics, spin art, even t-shirt art. The second floor of that building was entirely set aside for ceramics. All around the edges of the large room were shelves containing unpainted ceramics of every size and shape. The middle consisted of work tables, already filled with crafters. It seemed everyone came up with the same idea as we did for getting out of the rain. Scooter spotted an empty table, though, and soon it was crowded with paint and piggy banks. Scottie chose a pirate skull, which had little to paint, other than a red scarf and black eyepiece, and Tabby, a crown-wearing frog.

  "Can't find anything, Zo?"

  "I thought of maybe trying out the metal work, if that's okay..."

  "Sure," I responded readily. "But you may need an adult with you." Zoe looked at Dani hopefully. "You can go if you want to, Dani."

  "Are you sure? Tabitha may need a lot of help with that frog," she said doubtfully.

  "We got it. Don't we, Tabby? It's been quite some time since I've utilized a paint brush." I chuckled, thinking about days with Zoe in the kitchen, wearing only one of my old shirts, paint everywhere, including on her baby brother who recently learned to stand. "Probably ten years. It'll be fun."

  "Okay. You're sure?"

  "Get out of here," I ordered, gently wiping off a spot of paint that somehow ended up on Tabby's cheek. I watched as Danielle and Zoe moved toward the stairs, their heads bent together as before.

  An hour or so later we met downstairs to pay for our sitting and supplies. Zoe proudly showed us a mirror she'd made.