“How much time?”
Glancing around the room, the doctor spotted the rollaway stool, pulled it closer to the exam table, and sat down heavily. “It is hard to pinpoint with any accuracy. You could become fully blind anywhere from six months to a year, barring any additional injury or head trauma.” He tossed the clipboard on the table and crossed his arms. “What you may not understand is that the headaches will not only increase in pain, debilitating in and of themselves, but the clot will continue to shift. If not eradicated, the damage will eventually kill you.”
Margaret gave a strangled cry. Fiona reached behind her with a trembling hand and clasped onto Margaret’s hand. “I can prescribe something for the headaches, but it is not going to fix the problem, only dull it for short periods. You need surgery, and the sooner, the better.”
Fiona nodded. “I understand, truly, I do. Margaret and I need to discuss this. There’s a lot to consider. Margaret teaches school, and I have a business I can’t ignore.” Oh yeah, and she’ll be my designated nursemaid if you turn me into a drooling flesh-bag, Fiona refrained from responding. “This isn’t a decision I can make lightly on my own or without input from the family.”
Wedleby’s head bobbed in acknowledgment. He slapped his palms on his thighs, startling Margaret enough to flinch, and stood. “Please, Miss Cavanaugh, do not postpone too long. I’ll hold your file until you contact me, but I hope to see you within the month.” He looked directly at Fiona. “I’ll have a prescription ready for you at the hospital pharmacy.” He extended his hand. “It is a pleasure meeting you, though the circumstances are not the best.”
“Same here, Doctor,” Fiona said, returning the handshake. “Thank you.” With a nod at her, then shaking Margaret’s hand, Dr. Wedleby left the room. She stepped down from the exam table and began getting dressed.
Neither she nor Margaret spoke until they’d returned to the truck. Resolutely, Fiona twisted toward Margaret, who, from the tremble in her hands on the steering wheel, barely contained her emotions. Pushing her panic aside, Fiona infused her tone with as much playfulness as she could and said, “I need a hot bath, and sure could use some company.”
Margaret gave a laugh that sounded like a choked sob. “Hope the intended company is me.”
“Who else—” Fiona saw the twitch to the corner of Margaret’s mouth. “You’re such a comedian.” Fiona squeezed Margaret’s thigh. “It will always only be you for me. You know that, right?” Margaret nodded solemnly. “Then, get me to that bathtub.”
The hotel room was far grander than Margaret expected, grateful for the surprise after the depressing news from the doctor. She’d been in hotels with more grandeur and opulence years ago, but this was different. Fiona’s presence made it special.
Fiona made everything special to Margaret.
The bellboy placed their bags on the bed and bowed out of the room after Margaret pressed the tip into his palm. When the door closed, Fiona engaged the lock. Before she could turn around, Margaret was behind her, wrapping her arms around Fiona’s waist. She nuzzled her lips to the soft flesh behind Fiona’s ear and lightly placed a kiss before she whispered, “Did you want to eat in the dining room before we settle in?”
“Would you mind if we just stayed in the room?” Fiona’s head lowered, chin to chest. “You can order something brought up, but I’m not really hungry.”
“No,” Margaret said, “you’ve had a rough day, and I understand.” She truly did, knew the stress would have ruined Fiona’s appetite rather than increased it. If she thought about it, Margaret wasn’t all that hungry either. They could use coffee, and the bath they spoke of earlier. “Let me order something light and hot to drink. We need a little something in our stomachs like it or not.” She gave Fiona’s waist a squeeze. “Then, we’ll sit in the tub until our skin prunes.”
Fiona gave a low chuckle. “Sounds like heaven. I’ll prepare the tub.” Fiona spun around to face her, placing a kiss on the tip of Margaret’s nose.
It only took a few minutes to place an order and set out their evening clothes. Once the food was delivered, Margaret threw the bolt and removed her clothing before she joined Fiona in the bathroom.
She paused for a moment, taking in the sight of a naked Fiona in the bubble-filled bath. Margaret smiled. The bubbles would be for her, Fiona hating the feminine frivolity. All the things going on in her life and Fiona never once put herself and her wants or needs first. No matter what happened, Margaret would never—could never—find another woman whose warmth, tenderness and love could come even halfway close to Fiona’s heart. As depressing as the future loomed after today’s diagnosis, Margaret knew she would do anything in her power—including resigning from her teaching job—to spend every moment of every day with Fiona, for as long as Fiona needed.
With a deep breath of resolve, Margaret entered the room.
She slid behind Fiona, the water level rising to their chests. They were silent, knowing that vocalizing would be the fatal blow that destroyed the shaking walls containing Fiona’s emotion. So, they sat, the hot water caressing their skin, her fingers encouraging small ripples to spin around them. Fiona shifted and pressed herself tightly against Margaret’s body, and Margaret felt Fiona’s palm settle against her knees.
Fiona would be working through the pros and cons, the causes and effects of every move or option available to her. This was how Fiona cared for the people she loved. This was Fiona making certain the people in her life were not adversely affected by any decision she made.
When Fiona’s palm slid up Margaret’s inner thighs, elbows poking up from the water, Margaret realized Fiona had reached a decision and was ready to share. Margaret understood, whether she approved or disapproved of the result, Fiona would also provide a reason—whether sound or not to anyone but Fiona—for her conclusion.
Fiona breathed deeply, the action again pressed her into Margaret, and Margaret further against the smooth contours of the iron tub. Margaret lowered her head, pressed her lips to the damp flesh where the neck meets the shoulder, and placed three consecutive kisses.
“I can't have the surgery, Margaret,” Fiona said, her voice husky with emotion. She remained silent while she waited for Fiona to get through her thought process. “I won’t deny seeing those people today hasn’t influenced my decision, because the sight had a great deal to do with it.”
Margaret squeezed her eyes shut, rewarded with the image of those in the waiting room. The doctor had explained those patients were the more serious cases, some without the benefit of quicker medical attention. He was adamant the case wouldn’t be the same for Fiona. He couldn’t guarantee it wasn’t a possibility either. She opened her eyes when Fiona continued. “I’ll let Jo take on more responsibility, especially with the driving and deliveries. For the most part, I will continue, as usual, being available when you come home from work and putting you above all else.”
“But Fiona—”
“No honey, for the sake of everyone, we need to maintain the guise of normality. I won’t have the family overly worried. Please, Margaret, I can’t have anyone seeing me with pity in their eyes.” Fiona shrugged. Margaret wrapped her arms around Fiona’s waist, leaned her head on Fiona’s shoulder. “The timing isn’t too bad, either. School break has started. Jo is getting orders for work on her own, and we have a new addition to the family who needs to be properly indoctrinated to a house of women.”
Margaret chuckled. “Increasing the number from one to four can’t be as difficult a transition as dealing with just one of Ethel.”
“You may be correct in that matter.” Fiona snickered, then just as quickly grew serious again. “I know I’m a glass-half-empty gal, but I think we may have another big problem.”
“Whatever it is, we can handle it.” Margaret raised her head and reached for the washing cloth, submerged it, and raised it above Fiona's shoulders. She squeezed so water dripped across Fiona’s skin, running down across her small, firm bre
asts.
“I don’t know about that, Margaret. There are things Richard has said in his little boy innocence.” Fiona twisted, facing Margaret, her expression of serious concern. “And I’m not the only one who reached this conclusion. Nicholas agrees too.”
“Agrees with what, love?” A knot formed in her stomach. What could possibly be going on that involved— “Is Richard in danger? Are we?” Margaret’s pulse quickened, heart beating so hard it was sure to burst from her chest. “Dear God, Fiona, are you in danger?”
Fiona shifted again, laying half alongside and a half on top of Margaret, her fingers glided from Margaret’s hip to the underside of her breast, up and down, up and down in slow, gentle repetition. “It won’t be like last time. But yes, I’m a little worried. For all of us.”
“Oh, Fiona, I can’t—” Margaret stopped herself. No, she wouldn’t doubt they could get through this together. This time, she would be there, for and with Fiona, every step of the way. Margaret sat up in the water. Placing her palms on Fiona’s cheeks, she said, “Promise me, Fiona, this time we handle whatever comes together. This time you don’t go anywhere without me or someone with you. Promise me.”
Fiona stared directly at her. “I promise to try. But there are a lot of variables that can’t be weighed in.”
The sincerity in her tone had Margaret give a pained grin. Fiona would try to keep her promise. They both knew fate sometimes interfered, no matter how much preparation was made or promises spoken. She bent and kissed Fiona. “I think we need to get out of the bath. We are both shriveled, which was our goal.” Margaret got out first. She grabbed a towel for herself and handed another to Fiona. Fiona bent, pulled the rubber plug, and dropped the chain over the faucet. Once Fiona had towel-dried, wrapped the towel around herself, Margaret did the same and then pulled Fiona into her arms. “I had plans to ravish you thoroughly tonight.”
“Margaret—” Margaret halted the words with a finger over Fiona’s lips. Fiona obediently remained silent.
“If you won’t be too disappointed, I’d rather just hold you.” Fiona smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She took Fiona’s hand in hers and tugged her toward the door. Margaret suddenly stopped in the doorframe to the sleeping area, and Fiona bumped into her back. She spun to face Fiona. “I probably don’t want to know, but I need to know. Who killed Ethel?”
Fiona’s eyes darkened with anger. She was silent for so long, Margaret wondered if she should repeat the question. Then, soft yet steady, Fiona said, “Warren Langford.”
Margaret groaned. “Why aren’t matters ever easy?”
Eyes returning to their lighter caramel color, Fiona said, “The worthwhile things in life never are easy. That’s why we have each other.”
From the subtle tension and uneven breathing, Margaret could tell Fiona hadn’t slept any more than she had. She wasn’t in the least surprised. Then the tender explorations began. Margaret recognized Fiona’s need for a physical connection. She could never deny Fiona. She wouldn’t do so now either.
Margaret was always amazed by Fiona’s tentative touches, so tender and yet conveyed a fear of doing harm. Not once in five years had Fiona harmed her or been too rough. It was as if Fiona believed she could snap and turn into the brutal monster her father had been, like so many of the men in Fiona’s life. Margaret shifted, opened herself physically, and emotionally to Fiona’s exploring hands and lips. She could feel Fiona’s trembling and knew Fiona was afraid, seeking comfort in their physical contact. Words were not necessary. When Fiona stretched out on top of her, Margaret willingly and gladly accepted this moment. Her response tonight would be the catalyst for Fiona’s acceptance of their future together—for however long.
Fiona, mound pressed against Margaret’s clit, slowly rotated her hips. Margaret dug her blunted nails into Fiona’s back, felt pleasure radiate down to her feet, and shoot back up to tingle across her scalp. She moaned in response. Fiona trailed her lips and tongue down and across Margaret’s chest and, leaning forward, cupped Margaret’s breast in her strong, calloused hand. She tugged on Margaret’s erect nipples, brushed the pad of her thumb across and around the areola, causing it to pebble.
Her body’s responses to Fiona’s touch never failed to surprise her. Even after five years, each time felt new and astounding, amazed her at the strength and gentleness united in Fiona’s hands. Fiona lowered her head and sucked a nipple into her mouth, then lashed it with her tongue. Fiona shifted slightly, performing the same rite to Margaret’s other breast. “Oh, Fiona.”
“I love you, my wife. You are so beautiful,” Fiona whispered, her voice held the frantic tones of near desperation. Margaret slowly opened her legs to accommodate Fiona as she glided downward. Fiona placed kisses on Margaret’s chest, stomach, and hips and, finally, between Margaret’s thighs, kissed the softer flesh. Fiona paused. “Margaret.” Margaret heard the anguish in Fiona’s tone. “You are my heart,” she said and hoped to infuse her support into the words. If Fiona couldn’t finish, Margaret would again hold her in her arms. She needed Fiona as much as Fiona needed her. Instead of ending this moment, Fiona nuzzled her cheek against Margaret’s sex.
“Please, Fiona, I need you,” she said, not acknowledging Fiona’s emotional lapse. Margaret couldn’t control the twitching of her hips. It was enough. She arched to bring herself closer to Fiona’s hot breath whispering across her swollen and heated folds. Margaret whimpered, then gasped as Fiona’s fingers traced a languid design through her wetness.
Fiona raised her head. “You have me. Always.”
Margaret groaned in frustration. “Fiona—”
“Yes, love?”
Margaret gasped again when Fiona pushed two fingers deep inside her. Her back bowed. She felt Fiona push deeper and fill her. “Oh, Fiona, yes.”
Fiona withdrew, paused, and pushed in again in a quick and deliberate stroke.
Margaret’s mind and body were so focused on Fiona’s fingers inside her, filling her, that she let loose a jagged cry when Fiona brushed her tongue against Margaret’s clit.
Shifting licks on her clit and the pounding of fingers in and out made Margaret squirm then writhe as her inner muscles clenched. Margaret’s orgasm hit hard and fast, arching her back from the mattress. Waves of pleasure followed until, boneless, Margaret fell back down. The aftershocks turned to a delicate shiver. Fiona gentled her motions, slowed until finally pulling out. Fiona’s lips and tongue licked and kissed her tender flesh until Margaret’s sated body stilled. Fiona lay her head on Margaret’s thigh.
Then Margaret felt dampness that had nothing to do with their lovemaking. Fiona was crying. Tears filled Margaret’s eyes, and she didn’t brush them away. Instead, she quickly shifted, sliding down to meet Fiona’s position, and gently maneuvered Fiona’s head on her shoulder. She felt Fiona’s pain and fear in the contact of their flesh. Fiona was losing control of herself, the very thing Fiona honed to bring strength to herself and her family. She didn’t need to, Margaret knew, and suspected Fiona did, too. Margaret could tell her it was all right, but voicing the sentiment would only sever the tentative hold Fiona had on her emotions. Vocalizing anything at this moment would be Margaret’s undoing as well. Together they silently cried. Margaret stroked Fiona’s head with as much tenderness as she could convey in her touch. Neither broke the silence. There was no need. Moments like this were how they conveyed their love.
Moments like this that Margaret suspected would need to happen frequently before they were no longer possible.
Chapter Twenty-two
The pounding inside Fiona’s head increased. She slowed the truck and pulled over to the side of the road and turned the ignition off. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel and waited out the worst of the pain. Since learning the diagnosis from the doctor, Fiona had limited certain activities, the most important being driving. She hadn’t had much choice to avoid doing so this time, needing to get the chest-of-drawers to the Hager�
��s in time for their daughter’s delivery day. Luckily, two of the teenage Hager boys were on hand to unload and bring the chest inside.
Now Fiona hoped to complete the drive home without incident, but the blurring of her vision and the throbbing in her skull alerted otherwise. Now, for safeties sake, she had no other choice but to wait for this episode to end.
Fiona didn’t know how much time had passed, and it had been nearly dusk when she’d started home, but total darkness consumed her when Fiona opened her eyes. The helpless feeling, which accompanied the night and the darkness, was disconcerting but not unexpected.
When she heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle, then the quick burst of a siren, Fiona felt a stab of panic. She silently prayed the officer would be Randall, the one police officer she trusted in Pueblo. Nothing against law enforcement, but Boston cops were easier to appreciate. Especially when one is your best friends’ brother, like Ian Donnelly, and who treated you like a respected sibling. Luck, it seemed, wasn’t to be on her side tonight.
“Get out of the truck,” she heard Warren order from her opened truck window.
“Is there a problem, Sergeant?”
“I repeat, get out of the truck. Now.”
Fiona took a deep breath, grudgingly accepted Warren could do anything to her, and she was helpless to stop him. She swallowed hard. In no hurry for trouble to start, Fiona slowly exited the truck and leaned against the door. “Is it a crime to stop here?”
“Why did you?” Warren asked, his tone belligerent. So, it would be business as usual.
“I wasn’t feeling well. I decided to pull over for safety reasons, for my wellbeing, and for others on the road.” Fiona could feel his agitation.
“Why are you out here, a woman all alone.” Warren hadn’t needed to note the point or make woman sound like something vile in his mouth. Which for him, probably was a word hard to say since he wouldn’t know one if she slammed into him.
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