Forbidden- Our Secret Love

by Elise Quinn Larson

  “Sounds good. That’ll give me time to unpack.”

  True to his word, Daddy found me in his office fifteen minutes later with my hands wrapped around a steaming mug of chocolate. He sank into his big leather chair, reaching for his own mug with a grateful sigh.

  “It smells so good,” he said. “Mmmm—tastes even better. This’ll take the chill off my bones.”

  “You really should get a snow blower,” I advised. “You’re getting too . . .”

  “Don’t tell me I’m getting too old to shovel snow. It’s good exercise for a guy who spends most of his time behind a desk. Wasn’t expecting this much snow so late in the season, though. Raining in Eugene, I suppose?”

  “Buckets. As usual.” Enough small talk, I thought. Let’s talk about what’s really on our minds.

  Daddy’s chair creaked slightly as he sat up straighter. “How’s Trey?”

  “Fine. We talked.”

  “And?”

  “Trey has applied to teach at Boise State starting in August, so he’ll be living in Boise. And I’ll be living with him.”

  Daddy’s mug came down hard, sloshing a bit of chocolate onto the desk. “No.”

  “Yes. I lived with him in Eugene for six months. You never objected then. Why now?”

  “That’s before I knew how involved you were. Johnny and I thought you were living together as cousins. Nothing more. We had no idea you were intimate.”

  “We weren’t. Not until that last weekend. The weekend Mom had her stroke.” Now he knows why he couldn’t reach me, I thought. He knows why my phone was turned off. Trey and I were making love.

  “Was that the only time?” he asked.

  “No. There’ve been others. I’m sorry you’re upset, but I’m not sorry for loving Trey. Our love is true and real, and I will not give him up.”

  “You can’t live together, Elise. Not openly. Not in Idaho. If someone discovered your true relationship, you could go to prison! Are you willing to take that risk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’m not. You’re all I have, and I will not allow Trey to put you in danger. Neither will Johnny.”

  “We’re adults, Daddy. You can’t stop us. I’m sure Johnny thinks he can bully us into compliance, but he’s wrong.”

  “I’ve never thought of you as selfish, so your attitude surprises me. If this relationship comes out, it won’t affect just you and Trey. Think what it will do to our entire family!”

  I had no answer for that. Hurting our family was the last thing I wanted.

  My father got up and walked over to the room’s single window, looking out at the snow-covered lawn and saying nothing for several minutes. Finally . . .

  “Stay here,” he said. “Stay here at home, where you’ll be safe. Don’t move in with Trey. Let him get his own apartment. He can visit here as my nephew and your cousin. People won’t think anything of it. I’ll make myself scarce whenever you want to be alone, and there’s the downstairs bedroom if he wants to spend the night.”

  I watched him slowly turn from the window. “You’ll be aiding and abetting a crime, Daddy. In your own house.”

  “It can’t be a crime to protect my daughter,” he replied. “Please, Elise. Say you’ll stay with me.”

  I got up as he crossed the room and held me in his strong arms. “I’ll talk to Trey about it,” I said, “but I know he won’t be pleased with your idea.”

  Trey was more than displeased when I called him that night. He was furious.

  “First you rejected my Rhode Island plan—a very logical plan—because you couldn’t bear to leave our family. You didn’t want to hide or pretend. So I gave in, especially after you agreed to live with me in Boise. Yesterday—just yesterday!—you said, ‘It’s not a crime for cousins to live together, so that’s what we’ll do.’ Am I quoting you correctly?”

  “Yes.”

  “But now you’re telling me we can’t live together? We have to hide out in your father’s house, pretending to be nothing more than cousins so no one suspects we might be something else? What the hell changed since yesterday, Elise? Why are you doing this?”

  “My father . . .”

  “Screw your father! And mine. Like you said, they started this problem. They can live with it.”

  “Stop throwing my words in my face.”

  “Then stop saying things you don’t mean. Can I believe anything you said? You told me you love me. You said our love is real. Did you mean it, or have you changed your mind since yesterday?”

  “I meant it. Surely you know that.”

  His frustrated breath hissed in my ear. “Then prove it. Tell your father we’ll live together in Boise. Don’t let your fear of disclosure destroy what we have.”

  “What are you saying, Trey? Are you saying if we don’t live together, it’s over between us? It’s all or nothing?”

  I waited, hearing nothing but his sharp intake of breath followed by a long sigh. “I love you,” he said. “I want to marry you, but apparently that can’t happen. I want you in my life in every possible way, sharing everything with you day and night, but I guess you’re backing out on that, too. You’re basically saying we can get together for sex in your father’s house whenever you need a good fuck, right?”

  I gasped. “No. That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

  “Sure sounds that way to me. I’ve suddenly gone from being the man you love and want to live with to . . . what am I? What am I supposed to be? Your cousin in public and your secret sex toy whenever you feel the urge?”

  “Stop it. Just stop it. You’re making what we have into something cheap and dirty. It’s not like that.”

  “It will be, Elise. What else can it possibly be, living that way? I won’t go along with your plan, sweetheart. I refuse to sneak around, hiding our love from the world. Either you take me as I am, openly and proudly, or you take nothing at all. It’s your choice.”

  “Please, Trey. Don’t . . .”

  He’d disconnected. He was gone.

  I did not join my father for dinner that night, certain he’d bombard me with more arguments. I wrapped myself in a warm blanket and sat cross-legged in the middle of my bed as snowflakes whispered against the window behind me. After Trey ignored my attempts to reach him by phone and text, I finally quit trying. He was angry, and I couldn’t blame him.

  I’d been so certain I could live with him—openly and proudly—but doubts had crept in. We were up against one of the few remaining sexual taboos in our society: incest. The very word is repulsive to most people. The dictionary defines it as “the crime of sexual intercourse between persons so closely related that they are forbidden by law to marry.” A crime, I thought. A crime to love Trey.

  Most of society’s former sexual taboos had disappeared. Interracial and same gender relationships were common and accepted. Gays and lesbians could marry and raise families. But the thought of siblings having sex or creating a child still induced horror in people’s minds.

  Was my subconscious mind reacting the same way? Was my hesitation partly due to an ingrained horror of incest? I didn’t think so. Surely, I could not respond to Trey’s sexual advances with total abandon if I felt even the slightest tinge of revulsion. So why was I in such turmoil over our plan to live together?

  Fear, of course. Fear of disclosure, fear of prosecution and prison, fear of hurting my father and our entire family. Family was very important to me.

  And that was the other thing holding me back. I wanted a family of my own—a traditional family of husband, wife and children. I could never have that with Trey. We were forbidden to marry, and having children together posed a risk of birth defects. We would have each other and nothing more.

  But wasn’t that enough? Trey thought so. “The rest doesn’t matter,” he said. “Only love matters.” Our love was true and real; I had no doubt of that. I’d been in lust before, but my union with Trey was much more than physical. Our minds and our spirits melded into one unified whole. I kn
ew I would never be complete without him.

  Sleep eluded me as the wind tossed bits of ice against the window. Stiff and shivering, I finally crawled under the covers and lay there with my eyes closed, wishing I was lying spoon-fashion with Trey as we’d done the night before, when everything seemed possible.

  My phone buzzed at 6 a.m., waking me from a doze. Trey’s text message was brief and pointed.

  When UR willing 2 live W/me openly, LMK. EOD. ILU. (Translation: When you are willing to live with me openly, let me know. End of discussion. I love you.)

  My reply was even shorter. IWALU. (I will always love you.)

  Chapter 20

  B oise welcomed spring as February melted into March. Bright green shoots poked through the moist soil of my mother’s flower beds: crocuses, snowdrops, hyacinths and winter aconites being the first to appear. Like my grandmother, my mother was an avid gardener, spending many hours pulling weeds and tending to her assortment of flowering plants, especially her glorious roses.

  My father hinted that I might want to take over since she was gone, but I had no interest in horticultural endeavors. By the end of March, as weeds threatened to engulf the flowers entirely, a gardener was hired to maintain the beds and surrounding shrubs, trees and lawns.

  I didn’t care. Truth be told, I had no interest in anything that spring. With Peter’s help at work, I did a passable job as office manager and was grateful for the long hours the busy tax season required of us. The accountants and staff were always in the office by seven a.m. and seldom left before nine p.m. or even later, which was fine with me. The pressure of work kept my mind off Trey.

  But I could do nothing about the nights, when sleep refused to come no matter how tired I was. I lay in the bed where we’d once made love and yearned for Trey, who’d cut me off completely as he waited for my response to his one brief text message. Apparently, EOD meant end of all discussion until that one issue was resolved, and I still could find no resolution.

  Daddy worried about my weight loss and lack of interest in anything beyond work. I’m sure he was behind Peter’s frequent invitations to “do something fun” on Sundays, when the office was closed. I always declined with some excuse: tired (true), busy (not true), in love with someone else (true, but never spoken). The invitations finally stopped; Peter had his pride, after all.

  The office celebrated with an “end of tax season” party on the evening of April 15th, when we all gathered in the staff room for catered food and assorted beverages, including plenty of beer. I drank enough to get tipsy, joining Peter in an impromptu dance down the hallway while the secretaries clapped and cheered.

  But I faced another party with dread: Trey’s twenty-fifth birthday on April 24th. As I said before, birthdays are a big deal in our family. Everyone was expected to gather at Grandma and Johnny’s house. Even Quinn, enjoying the NFL offseason after his second Super Bowl win, was planning to show up for the party.

  I did not want to go. I hadn’t seen or heard from Trey for nearly two months and didn’t know what to expect from him (or myself). I ached to see him, to hear his voice, to touch him. But I feared his reaction. I could deal with anger, but cold indifference would be unbearable.

  “I’m not going to Trey’s party,” I told my father. “I can’t go.”

  Daddy looked at me across the breakfast table. “Of course you’re going. Everyone will be there, even Quinn.”

  “I don’t care. Tell them I’m sick. Tell them anything.”

  He sighed. “I thought this thing between you and Trey was over. Has he contacted you since February?”

  “No. But it’s not over. Not for me, at least. It will never be over for me.”

  “You need to let go. Move on.”

  “Ha! Listen to yourself. You never let go of your love for Elise, even after you married my mother. So how can you sit there and tell me to stop loving Trey?”

  “Trey is your brother!”

  “And Elise was your brother’s wife!”

  I got up and tossed our uneaten food into the disposal, frustrated with him and the whole damn situation. Get a grip, I told myself. Go to the party. How hard will it be?

  Harder than I thought possible. Going to that party was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

  Stepping into my grandmother’s house, I was immediately wrapped in the sensations of a Larson family birthday: streamers, balloons, a stack of gifts, the big table set for a feast, hugs and kisses all around, constant talk and laughter and good-natured teasing. My family celebrated birthdays in a big way.

  Quinn was the personification of big, nearly crushing me in a welcoming hug with his six-foot-five, two hundred and forty pound body. “You’ve lost weight,” he said, running his big hands across my back. “What’s up with that?”

  “Nothing,” I replied. “I’m fine. How are you, Quinn?”

  He grinned. “Never better, with the Super Bowl win and a fat new five-year contract. I’m riding high and lovin’ every minute of it.”

  “I’m sure. I’m happy for you. Any special lady in your life?”

  “Me? Hell, no. I can’t keep track of ‘em—can’t even keep their names straight half the time. But it’s all good. What about you? Anyone . . . hey! Here’s the birthday boy, finally gracing us with his presence.”

  I turned and there he stood, no more than three feet away, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt stretched tight across his chest. My breath caught as my fingers tingled, aching to touch him. Our eyes locked for the briefest of moments, searching for something . . . Then he looked away with a shrug of indifference.

  “Give Elise a hug, bro,” Quinn urged. “Tell me if you think she’s lost weight.”

  I backed up, almost colliding with Quinn in my haste to escape. “Grandma needs me in the kitchen,” I mumbled. “Happy birthday, Trey.”

  I went through all the motions, smiling and talking as I forced myself to eat Johnny’s grilled chicken and Grandma’s delicious “sides,” topped off with a triple chocolate fudge birthday cake with twenty-five yellow candles. I wondered what Trey wished for when he blew them out.

  I watched Trey unwrap his gifts, including a handmade sweater from Grandma, a check from Granddad Quinn, new running shoes from my father and a classy leather briefcase from Johnny (“because every college professor needs one”). Trey received nothing from me. I was still withholding the one thing he wanted: my unconditional love, proudly and openly given.

  That elephant was in the room, silently looming over the festivities. After our first glance, Trey and I avoided eye contact—or any contact at all. I knew Johnny and Jim were watching us closely for clues about the current state of our relationship. I assume they found nothing, since we hid our feelings behind walls of disinterest.

  Everyone cheered when Trey announced he’d completed his dissertation and expected to ace his oral defense in May. He would receive his doctorate in June.

  “What about Boise State?” Johnny asked. “What’s the status of your application?”

  “I have an interview tomorrow morning. Wish me luck.”

  “You’re a shoo-in, bro!” Quinn declared. “Let’s drink a toast to the new Professor of English at Boise State.”

  “Assistant Professor.”

  “Whatever.” Quinn stood up, the top of his head nearly touching the ceiling as he looked at Johnny. “Don’t s’pose you’ve got any toast-drinking liquid around here?”

  “There’s fruit punch.”

  “Fruit punch. Right. Hell, why not? Let’s drink some fruit punch to Trey’s success. Elise, help me round up some punch and glasses.”

  After the toasts, Elias and James pulled the men outside for a game of touch football while a group of excited neighbors—kids and adults—gathered to watch.

  “Quinn draws them like flies,” Stacey commented as we helped Grandma clean up the kitchen. “We went through some of that hero worship when CJ was in the NFL, but at least he was married with two babies, which dampened the female fren
zy. Elias and James are so proud of their Uncle Quinn, but I couldn’t live the way he does, with no one special and no real home.”

  “This is his home,” Grandma said.

  “Sure, for three or four weeks a year.”

  “I think he loves his life,” I said. “And it won’t last forever. He’ll eventually settle down with a special someone.”

  “What about you, dear?” Grandma asked. “Any special someone in your life?”

  “Me? I have to get through law school,” I evaded. “First things first, you know.”

  I stepped outside and sat beside Granddad Quinn on the south patio, watching Johnny, CJ, James and two neighbor kids play against Quinn, Trey, Elias and two other boys while Daddy refereed.

  It was an exciting, surprisingly even contest. Quinn was a superb player, but Johnny and CJ still possessed most of the skills that made them famous running backs in their time. Elias and James excelled on their middle school’s team. Trey lacked the sheer bulk of his father and brothers, but he ran like the wind. No one ran like Trey. I could not take my eyes off his body as he moved across the field on that sunny April afternoon.

  “They are amazing,” Granddad Quinn said, his hand reaching for mine. “How I wish my Elise were here, watching Johnny and their sons and grandsons play football together. She would be so proud. So very proud.”

  His eyes were full of tears, but he gripped my hand with surprising strength. “I miss her so much. Every day. But we have you, her namesake. You are smart, beautiful and strong, like she was. You make us proud, my dear.”

  I leaned over and kissed his wrinkled cheek. Proud, I thought. How proud would he be if I brought scandal down on our family?

  The crowd of onlookers cheered when the game ended, with Quinn’s team the narrow victors. People milled around while Quinn signed autographs, but they eventually drifted away as the afternoon faded.

  The four football-playing neighbor boys joined us on the patio for another round of cake and ice cream while Quinn regaled them with tales of his exploits. There was nothing remotely modest about Quinn; he was big, brash and bold in body and personality. I often envied his sheer self-confidence, even as it sometimes overwhelmed me.