MAYBE BABY

by ANDREA SMITH

  It was when he called me ‘baby’ that I lost it. I didn’t know why he affected me this way. The sob that I had been holding back so successfully finally escaped and a fresh tear rolled down my left check, onto his hands that were gently framing my face, and then another. He leaned into me further, capturing my tear with his lips, softly.

  His lips were sweet and warm on my face. I closed my eyes, hoping that would stop any more tears from escaping. His lips moved to my other cheek, gently kissing the wet streak there. His lips then moved to my eyelids, brushing soft kisses on each one.

  I was getting warm. I felt him lean over and kiss my forehead, once, twice, three times. His lips traveled downward, kissing the tip of my nose and then my chin.

  His fingers cupped my chin, raising it up just a little so that his mouth could find mine. I breathed his scent in savoring his closeness to me.

  I placed my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. We kissed deeply, thoroughly, now. Our tongues were in perfect rhythm, searching and tasting each other. His tongue flickered along my lower lip; tracing it and then covered it fully again with his lips in a deep, leisurely kiss.

  I felt his hands fumbling with the knot I had tied in the belt of my robe. I wanted him to take it off of me. I wanted to feel his hands on my skin underneath it.

  He mastered the belt successfully, spreading it open with his hands. I tasted a hint of whiskey on his breath. Had he been out to dinner? Perhaps on a date with some random woman? He was here now; he was with me. His hands were on my nightgown, massaging the soft satiny folds that covered my belly, dipping lower to touch my bare skin where the slit opened. Our mouths continued devouring each other. I moaned softly against him.

  Oh, God, I cannot do this! My head was reeling post-concussion.

  “Stop, we can’t” I choked out between his kisses, my hands pushing against him.

  “This can’t happen.”

  Trey stopped immediately; confusion was apparent in his eyes then replaced by uncertainty.

  “Tylar,” he said gently, but firmly, “I’m not going to apologize for doing what I’ve wanted to do since the minute I laid eyes on you. I will apologize though if I misread your signals.”

  I scooted away from him on the bed, finger combing my hair nervously.

  “I don’t send signals, Trey. I just come right out with it, okay? I don’t think it is wise for you and me to put ourselves in a compromising position. You are at the very least, my employer and well, it’s just not appropriate. I’m sure the rumors are already circulating, I just think ---“

  He cut me off abruptly, straightening up and moving away.

  “No need for an explanation, Ms. Preston,” he responded coolly.

  His eyes were a frosty blue; in that moment I was in awe of his ability to transform from fire to ice.

  “I think you’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I now see how you roll.”

  I glanced over at Trey but he was lifting his jacket off the back of the chair. He brought my cell phone over fully charged up and held it out to me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Call your mother Tylar,” he instructed. “She needs to know what’s going on and I need to know what your plans are so that I can make schedule adjustments with the staff.”

  I took my phone from him, snapped it open and pulled up my contact list. I scrolled down to the name ‘Mom.’ I pressed the call button and waited for it to ring. It didn’t ring. There was a three tone signal followed by a digital recording stating that the number dialed was either out of service or had been disconnected. No further information was available. I pressed the ‘end’ button and dropped the phone onto my bed.

  Trey looked at me expectantly, “Well?”

  “It’s either out of service or has been disconnected. You had the right number after all.”

  “Is this typical of your mom?” he questioned.

  “Nothing is typical about my mom.”

  Trey was losing patience with me. His voice had an edge to it.

  “Tylar,” he implored, “There must be a friend, a neighbor, someone you can contact to get word to your mom about your situation.”

  Oh, so now it was ‘situation ‘was it? He had no clue at all about how my mom rolled!

  “Look,” I snapped, “Maybe she hasn’t paid her cell phone bill. It happens. If you think for one hairy minute that my mother wants me back in her house to make sure I recover to your expectations you are delusional. She has her own life to live and apparently, that is what she is doing. That phone works both ways, you know. It’s not as if she has called me in the last three weeks. If you don’t believe me, check the call log for yourself!”

  Trey was taken aback by my outburst, at least for a moment.

  “What about a job, does she work somewhere that she can be reached?” he questioned.

  "She works Tuesday, Thursday and Friday for Findley, Morris and Sneed. It's a law firm in Louisville. Feel

  free to call her but I'm not. Just ask for Maggie."

  I turned my back to him and pulled the covers up to my chin. He sighed audibly, walking over to the side of the bed where I could see him. He had his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, and he lowered himself down on his haunches so that his face was inches from mine. It seemed like an eternity ago that we were in each other’s arms devouring one another with our lips and hands instead of just minutes. His beautiful face, just inches from mine appeared so distant from me now. Why oh why did I tell him not to kiss me anymore?

  He had not misread my signals, how could I continue letting him think that when I knew damn well I was lying to myself. I had wanted to feel his lips on mine since the moment I first laid eyes on him. I didn’t care about any rumors. I had no clue what I was doing. I loved the way he kissed. I loved his touch. The pleasure he gave scared me. It was intense and delicious.

  My body ached for something it didn’t know. This was all unfamiliar ground for me. I had spent my life so far observing other people’s passion and lust and becoming afraid of what it might do if it happened to me.

  Love and lust were just two of many emotions that I didn’t allow myself to feel, if I had the capacity to feel them at all. I couldn’t afford to feel them. It was too risky. I saw what it had done to my own mother; I wouldn’t let it do that to me. My mother was missing and I was not sure why I felt impassive about it. I felt empty and devoid of feelings at the moment.

  “Tylar,” Trey’s voice broke through my rushing thoughts.

  “I will have someone here tomorrow to pick you and take you back to your cottage, alright?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. At least he was off the subject of contacting my mother, for now anyway. I missed my cottage. It was my safe haven from dealing with the ghosts of my past, and the complications of the present.

  “Thank you” I replied, smiling. “Can you have them please bring something for me to wear? I’m afraid all I have here is what you bought me, and the swimsuit and t-shirt I was wearing.”

  “Of course,” he responded politely. “Ray and I will review the staffing schedule for the next couple of weeks to see who we can move around to cover your duties and where we might put you in the interim.”

  “I appreciate your accommodating me, thank you.”

  “I’ll be off then,” he said and with that he left my room.

  Tears sprang to my eyes once again after he had gone. Why did he affect me so? I looked over to the bedside table where he had laid the single red rose. I picked it up, bringing it close to my face where I could smell its sweet aroma. I laid the red rose on my pillow, next to my face, staring at it until I finally drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  At 9:30 a.m. the following morning Denise was in my hospital room. She barreled through my hospital door, carrying a bag of clothes with her.

  “Ray let me into your cottage sweetie. I got you a pair of jeans; bra, panties, t-shirt and these sneakers will that do?”

  “Denise, y
ou’re an angel come true,” I said. “Yes, these will do fine. It will be good to get some regular clothes on finally.”

  I grabbed the bag from her, disappearing into the bathroom to dress for my departure out of this hospital, finally. The nurse had been in earlier, providing me with my discharge orders, that listed things I could resume and other things that I needed to avoid until I came back for a re-check in two weeks. I had a prescription for an antibiotic that I needed to finish taking.

  I took a last look around the bathroom. I had nothing left to pack up in here. I checked myself in the mirror. My hair was brushed; the dark circles underneath my eyes were fading. My eyes looked bigger than before. I had lost weight over the duration of my stay here. I went back out to the room and pulled my red two-piece swimsuit, my t-shirt and flip-flops from the tiny closet cubby where they had been hanging for the past six days, shoving them into the bag with the rest of my stuff.

  “Ready to roll?” Denise asked.

  “Let’s do it,” I said, heading for the door.

  Once out in the hall, I remembered something I left behind.

  "Go on ahead, Denise," I called from behind, "I forgot one thing in the room. I'll catch up with you in a sec."

  I went back into the room and picked up the single red rose on my pillow, carefully putting it inside one of my magazines to keep it from breaking; I put the magazine inside the bag and caught up with Denise at the elevator.

  Denise headed her VW bug out onto the two lane highway that led to Sinclair Stables. The day was sunny, extremely warm; the humidity was slowly creeping in.

  “Have I missed anything good since I’ve been out of commission, Denise?”

  “Well, honey, I’m not sure what you consider ‘good’ let’s see, well, I did hear Ray say that Derringer is eating well again, so I know that should be good news for you. The races will start over at the track Saturday evening, so everybody’s excited about that. Oh, and Ray told me that you are to take it easy today. He said he will stop over to your cottage this evening and fill you in on your revised schedule.”

  “I can hardly wait to get back to work. I feel perfectly fine. I hope Trey didn’t instruct Ray to schedule me somewhere boring, like over at the ‘Belle, now that would suck out loud,” I complained, envisioning myself having to conduct tours dressed like Jenna and Neely.

  “Well, whatever you are instructed to do, Tylar, it’s for your own good and well-being, just keep that in mind, you hear?”

  “Yes, Mom,” I teased.

  Pulling down the long drive at the Sinclair estate, I spotted Clint and Luke out in the pasture, exercising Ariel and the brown chestnut, Socrates. Both horses were being worked to race at the track over at the ‘Belle. They were three year-old quarter horses who had track experience.

  I didn’t know if Trey planned on preparing Derringer for the summer competitions or not. I hadn’t had the opportunity to see how much training, if any, in dressage the horse had been given. Trey was so adamant about the handling of Derringer, it was doubtful the rare Lipizzaner would be ready to compete this summer if he was starting from scratch with dressage. No one was allowed to exercise him except Trey, and when was he ever around?

  Denise tapped her horn a couple of times getting Luke and Clint’s attention. I waved frantically at them from the passenger seat, glad to see them. Clint recognized me immediately, pulling off his hat and waving it back and forth at me while Socrates pranced sideways having been distracted by the car horn.

  “I can hardly wait to ride again,” I exclaimed, “I want to help them get the quarters ready for this weekend’s races.” “Well I wouldn’t count on doing that anytime soon, hon.”

  “What do you mean, Denise?”

  I turned to look at her.

  (What does she know?)

  “It’s just that, well, when Trey came by my place early this morning to catch Ray before he left the house, uhh, I did hear a few things….”

  “Spill it, Denise, I mean it.”

  “He instructed Ray that under no circumstances were you to be working in the stables, exercising the horses, or even pleasure riding until further notice.”

  “What?” I inadvertently screeched a little louder than planned. “What the hell will I do then?”

  “I think maybe you will be working over at the ‘Belle,” she said, almost inaudibly.

  “Oh God, no, not dressing up and giving tours. No way, no freaking way!”

  “No, no,” she assured me.

  I felt some relief with that.

  “I think you are scheduled to work the gift shop and ticket counter in the main building over there.”

  Oh, great, Trey was taking his revenge to a whole new level it appeared. I would be bored shitless over there. There were just old ladies in that building working the gift shop, restaurant and special event planning.

  I looked over at Denise and she could tell by my expression that I was fuming.

  “It won’t be forever, hon. He’s just worried about you after what you’ve been through and all. I heard him tell Ray about your nightmares. I really do think it shook Trey up. I’ve never seen him so concerned about anyone like he is with you. Seems to me he’s quite protective of you there, sweetie.”

  I gave her a sidelong glance, with an unspoken ‘Puleeze’

  “Well, doesn’t matter to me if you believe me or not, you’ll see in time.”

  “I had a concussion, Denise, of course I was having dreams, nightmares, whatever, my brain had been tossed around,” I argued. “But the point is there was nothing on those discharge papers saying anything about me riding or working around horses.”

  “Well, he’s just being a bit over-protective, sweetie, you know after that accident back there in ….”

  She stopped abruptly, realizing that she had said too much. I was not sitting still for this.

  “C’mon Denise, finish what you started. I’ve already heard some rumors about him and a fiancée that somehow left him at the altar because of some scandal. Something about a jockey on one of his horses or his fiancée’s horse getting thrown. It was a convoluted story and the source was Jenna, so not reliable at best, but you know something.”

  “Listen, Tylar, and I mean it. You want to know what happened, you better ask Ray, or better yet, ask Trey himself because I’ve said too much already.”

  That was the end of the conversation. I already knew how Ray felt about it. I was not gutsy enough to approach Trey. Perhaps it was better left unknown for now.

  My cottage was stuffy from being closed up for so many days. I immediately opened the large front window to get some air circulating. I left the wooden front door open, just latching the lock on the screen door to help air the cottage out. I emptied the bag of clothing out into the dirty laundry basket that was still sitting in the bathroom. I definitely needed to do laundry today.

  Ray had put my pay envelope on the breakfast bar, along with some mail that had arrived for me over the course of the last week. I had to make it last since there wouldn’t be a check coming Monday for this week.

  I grabbed my purse, taking my cell phone and charger out. I might as well plug that in as it seemed to need re-charging a lot lately. Probably time for a new phone but that was not my top priority.

  Everything I earned during the summers paid for my essentials during the school year. It covered room, board, clothing, and food. I was not going to room in the dorm this year; I was looking to share an apartment with a couple of other students. My name was on a list of applicants with the university housing commission that helped students in good standing locate apartments and connect with other students as potential roommates to share expenses.

  It was on a first come, first serve basis and luckily my name was at mid-list which pretty much guaranteed I would be placed. My only worry now was that I would be matched with a roommate (or roommates depending on the size of the apartment) that was tolerable.

  Dorm life had been pretty rough. I was surprised by the num
ber of slobs that attended college. I by no means was a neat freak, but some semblance of order and minimization of filth was required when two people shared such close quarters.

  My mom had been a stickler for keeping our house clean and orderly. That was non-negotiable with her. It made me glad that she instilled a sense of orderliness in me.

  I pulled a glass from the kitchen cupboard and filled it with water. I stood at the sink in my kitchenette, drinking it down, slowly, and thinking back as I swallowed about our house in Kentucky and what it had been like growing up there.

  I had always been given chores. I think by the time I turned seven years old my chores included doing the dishes, taking the trash out, cleaning my room, and folding my own laundry. By the time I reached thirteen years old, I pretty much was responsible for cleaning the whole house on Saturday’s, earning $20 a week.

  I recalled that everything had to be done by the time Mom got home at five in the evening or there was hell to pay. Sheets changed, floors swept and vacuumed, bathroom cleaned, kitchen scrubbed and all the furniture dusted. Mom always insisted in doing the laundry because of her fine delicates.

  I set my empty glass down on the kitchen counter and walked over to the couch. A slight breeze came through the opened window, caressing my moist skin. I collapsed on the couch, scrunching a throw pillow up underneath my head.

  My thoughts returned to Kentucky as a child.

  I liked Saturdays because Mom would allow me to have my new best friend Laurie over on Friday night to spend the night with me. Laurie’s mom, Mona, and my mom were good friends. Mona was about the only female friend that I remembered Mom having.

  She was pretty just like Mom. They lived about five blocks from us. Laurie would come home from school with me on Fridays.

  After Mom got off work, she would bring a large pizza home for us and we would just vegan out, watching television and listening to our favorite boy bands. Mom allowed us to stay up until midnight, and then to bed was the rule.

  On Saturday mornings Mom would make breakfast for Laurie and me. Mom was a good cook. At noon, Mona would come by and pick Laurie up.