He smirked that ironic smirk he had when he knew he was right and the other person--whoever it may be--was so wrong. “You are really something, you know that?”
Beth crossed her arms and approached him. “I think a legal separation would be best. In a year everything is just dissolved and we don’t need to go through a bloody court battle. I don’t want the farm; I don’t want the house--though I’d like a few of the furnishings later on. I just want the kids.”
He chuckled.
“What?”
He did it again and this time shook his head. “You’re making all of the rules again I see.”
Beth’s hand flew to her chest. “Me? I haven’t made a rule in--I don’t remember how long it’s been!”
“And you’re just egocentric enough to believe that.”
And now she was angry too. He did this every single time. “I am egocentric? I am the one who turned my back on my family and did nothing but work and drink and sleep and then get up and start again?”
“You bitch! I was working for you, for the kids, for our life!”
“Chris, we have money. We’re fine; you didn’t need to be in the running for the hardest working man in the graveyard! You didn’t need to slave day after day when you could afford the help that even when you did consent to hire, you wouldn’t trust. You say it’s for us, but it’s for yourself. You left the Bureau, but couldn’t leave the intensity of the life.”
“Sounds like the psychological bullshit that George is always spewing.”
Beth sucked in a breath and released it. “I don’t need George to think for me and I think that you should remember that he was your friend.”
She saw his hand tighten, loosen and then tighten again. “He was never my friend, Beth. He was my partner and then my rival because we both fell for the same woman.”
“And she picked you--then.”
He stepped nearer to her, quiet and crafty like a lynx.
She could feel him all around--his strength, his smell that combined beer and the crinkly leather from his jacket. She prayed that he’d just step back and agree so this could finally be on the way to over. But he kept moving--slow and steady--until he grabbed her arm. She had to think fast, but her training allowed for that. Her best bet was to appeal to the things they both used to feel.
“Chris, please don’t make this harder than it has to be. Admit it’s over, we tried….” And though she wanted to add that she’d tried so much harder, she didn’t. “Please just let me take the kids and let the lawyers draw up the papers. I promise to be fair.”
He tightened his grip and tilted his head. “Let me get this straight. I’m supposed to say, ‘Okay, take my kids hundreds of miles away from me. No problem.’”
“I realize that it’s not ideal, and we may not remain in Connecticut. I just need to be with my family now. The kids need that too.”
“And George?”
Beth mustered all of her strength and pulled from his grasp. “You know that he’s in the New York office now, but you also know that New York is a two hour drive from Old Saybrook. I won’t be seeing him nightly for dinner and a movie.”
Chris ripped off his leather jacket and tossed it to the couch. “Oh, somehow I don’t think old George would find the distance too much of a problem.”
“Stop this! Stop it! I know this hurts--it hurts me too--but it has to be done. We can’t stay the way we are. You refuse to talk to anyone--”
“Because there’s nothing wrong, Beth! There’s nothing here except your dissatisfaction. This is life; this is what there is for everybody--work and life and if you get a little lucky, some love. This is it.”
She started to cry though she’d told herself that she wouldn’t. “Then keep blaming me if you have to, just please let me go. My mother said she’d pay for the children to fly here once a month--”
Chris smirked again. “Oh, Greer must’ve loved to offer up that one.”
“That’s not fair. She’s not at all happy that we’re separating.”
“Shit. You really must think I’m a fool. She’ll be standing in the front of the church cheering when you and George head down the aisle.”
“I’m not marrying George. I’m not marrying anyone. I just want this to end.”
Chris slammed his finger to his chest. “I am not letting you take the kids. You can do whatever the fuck you want to do, but you’re not taking my kids.”
“And what exactly will you do with them? What day does Audrey have ballet? What’s the name of Noah’s new teacher? Where does Audrey’s friend Shannon live? How much lunch money does Noah need everyday?”
“You think you’re so damned smug. Maybe you have taken care of all that shit, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t and it doesn’t mean that I asked you to. Leave if you want, but I think you’d better reevaluate your plans. Find a place here and we’ll see what we can work out.”
Tears were streaming now, along with a runny nose and blotchy eyes. Not at all the exit she’d hoped for. “I can’t stay here, Chris. I can’t stay near you right now. I have to go to Connecticut and be with my family, but I can’t do it without the kids. I can’t. I know I’m asking you to forfeit the weeknight that most fathers are allowed, but I’m willing to bargain by giving you more time in the summer--maybe the whole summer. But we can’t split them up and we can’t split them between us because Noah needs to be in school and Audrey needs to know that she’s safe. Please don’t fight me on this. Please, if you ever felt anything for me at all, then please let me go.”
He did the strangest thing then. He reached out and caught a tear. Beth lowered her eyes, but raised them when Chris placed his finger beneath her chin and lifted her head. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there touching her ever so slightly, thinking who knew what. He loved his kids; she’d always known that and this had to hurt and it wasn’t her goal to hurt him--to hurt anyone. That was exactly why she needed to go.
Perhaps it was just a memory that made them both move, both shift to the place where their mouths touched and their hands roamed freely. His grip was hard, his kiss needy and she answered with a neediness of her own. A primitive groan or plea, Beth couldn’t be sure which, slipped from his throat as he nudged and lowered until she was trapped between the weight of him and cool leather of his jacket that he’d thrown on the couch.
Chris lifted just enough to tug at the sash of her robe. It fell open and left her vulnerable and exposed. He spent a moment simply looking, running his hand from the smoothness of her neck to her collarbone, to the flat plate of bone between her breasts. She let him look, allowed him to remember as she remembered too. He’d always ignited her--from the very first shake of his hand. That’s why she’d stayed far from him over the last months; slept at the edge of the bed or often in the recliner in the family room. It was why she kept the door locked during her showers and made sure she was up and dressed before he came back in after morning chores.
But tonight she hadn’t done that. Tonight she’d soaked and powdered and remained naked aside from her robe. Had she needed this? Had she needed one final time to feel him?
He opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but then closed it again just as quickly because they both knew that there was nothing left to say. He wasn’t a man prone to begging and truthfully Beth doubted that even begging would be enough now. She would go, he would stay and their life together was through.
But they had one more isolated moment.
She trailed her fingers along the stubble of his cheeks, grasped a curl of hair and twisted it around her finger. She touched the tiny hole in his left lobe that, though empty now, still waited for that rebel agent to break through. He lowered and used his mouth--first on her lips and then plunged with his tongue along the smooth inner lines of hers.
He traveled to her jaw, her neck, her breasts. Her fingers dove through the waves of his hair, her voice whimpered at the sensations he created.
Chris pulled from her and she wanted to scr
eam No!, even though it was probably the best thing. But he didn’t leave, he just shifted to kiss her belly, trace her naval with his tongue and then continue on to that spot lower still where she came unglued and cried out into the quiet of the night as his fingers and tongue drove her.
Long minutes passed until he’d apparently reached his limit. He hoisted, pulled at his shirt, wrenched his button fly open and threw one of her legs to the coffee table and the other to the back of the couch. In dim light from the sole lamp that burned across the room, Beth could see that he hadn’t removed his jeans, simply shimmied them down to rest just below his hips. His gaze found hers--held it as he sucked in the breath he’d need and entered her without the use of his hands, only the force of his body.
She cried out again--this time at the surprise of the swift penetration--but Chris was already gone, already pumping as a bronco would when he so wanted to rid himself of his rider. With the uncompromising position of her legs, it was impossible for Beth to move, but it seemed as though that had been his plan all along. If he couldn’t have her, he’d damn well take her and he was taking with such skill.
She hit the peak first, crashed into the reality of the end while he still rode with fury. She wanted to comfort him, wanted to pet him and hold him while he unleashed all of the pain, but he wouldn’t allow it. He smacked her hands down each time she tried, finally pinning them to the sides of her head. His face remained buried in the nook of her right shoulder and pressed into the leather of his coat. Beth could feel the prick of the tattered zipper near her spine.
He detonated with the force of twelve wasted years and six celibate months. He’d always been a groaner more than a screamer, but an anguished sound ripped from him as he filled her in one final, desperate attempt. It lasted long seconds and Beth laid still and pinned until he quieted. Then there was nothing but the sound of their raggedy breathing and the thud of their hearts aligned, but no longer in sync.
“Please don’t fight me,” she whispered near his ear.
He hoisted up and pulled out in one quick motion. He turned his back and fastened his jeans as if he’d suddenly become modest. He pulled his thermal shirt over his broad shoulders and spoke with his back to her. “Do what you need to do.”
He walked away then--just disappeared up the stairs--and Beth was left with his coat to cry into and the pieces of her heart scattered all across the floor.
Chapter 3
Somewhere just off the coast between Lithuania and Sweden he’d found paradise.
Sometimes the wind blew cold and biting; sometimes the breeze was soft and warm. But without exception it was always isolated and simply perfect.
It had taken him years to find it--three of them to be precise--and he so believed in being precise. He’d traveled the globe in the time since his Master--his father--had left him. He’d never been certain if the mother who’d taken him away after the siege of the evil ones was in actuality his mother at all. But she’d claimed him, attempted to mold him into another person in the land of Wales far from his beloved Jaelyn after they’d fled in shadows right before the fortress crumbled and was no longer.
He’d been just a boy of twelve when he’d watched the annihilation of the peaceful world of the Flora Sky as the evil ones descended, led by the most wicked of all--the Stoddard man; the action hero who’d both eliminated The Master and stolen his only true love, Farley-Fauna.
A child shouldn’t have to witness the demise of his father. As if that mortification hadn’t been enough, trying to build a life in Wales amongst people who didn’t understand was beyond difficult.
It was impossible.
For he, The Most Masterful, had no interest in rugby or hunts for the elusive fox when the hunt should be focused on the one of true evil--the agent who’d robbed The Lord and Master of his life.
It was nearing the time for Special Agent Christopher Stoddard to pay dearly for his grave error of bringing weapons of steel and leading his government soldiers to the Flora Sky and killing at random. Of course the Master had been wise enough to know that the people of Flora Sky would need to be prepared when the darkness descended. It was for that reason only that they’d kept mighty weapons to combat the heinous forces that lurked.
But there had been no provocation that day--no reason for the sinister regiment to appear and kill, kill, kill. There had only been Stoddard-of-handsome-face-and-rugged-build’s selfishness. He savagely controlled the humble people of Flora Sky in order to make Farley-Fauna his own.
She’d had no intention of leaving; The Most Masterful knew that for certain. She’d been so kind and lovely--humming softly and smiling sweetly to he who would soon be her son. They all knew of her initial defiance; of how she’d mistakenly believed that she’d been one of them, one of the evil. But the truth had been revealed. The truth.
Farley-Fauna was put on the holy, sanctioned earth to serve The Master and all his flock.
The Most Masterful turned when the door to his sanctuary slid open. There were amenities here and he was grateful for that when Dara-Dawn drifted in with a can of American cola and a cellular phone on a tray. The Most Masterful had spent time in the States after his schooling was complete and he’d come to enjoy the trickery of video games and the alluring beat of rock music. They were intended for a simpler man to be sure--certainly not a supreme one--but for that tiny portion of his being that was, in fact, so embarrassingly human, he too could find pleasure in the trivial.
“For you, my Master,” Dara-Dawn said with reverence as she set the tray at his side. “Are you in need of anything else?” she asked as she tossed her yellow satin locks over her shoulder.
He touched her hand, saw her tremble. He’d enjoyed her in the most intimate way--in fact she was carrying his child--but Dara-Dawn would always be little more than a scullery maid.
Some were divine and some simply weren’t.
“That is all.”
She backed from the room and closed the door behind her.
The Most Masterful reached for the cool can of soda and took a satisfying swallow. Rain beat against the pane of his fortress window and he rather enjoyed the sound. Nature was a force as mighty as he and he welcomed her. His father had taught him many years ago that with power came responsibility and now at twenty-four years of age, the time had come to prove that he’d been listening.
A lesser man would’ve struck as soon as his muscles had ripened and his anger sharpened to a cruel point. But The Most Masterful gained strength in patience. What good would it do to shatter the world of Special Agent Stoddard when with each passing day he’d have more to lose? It was close to the right time now.
So very, very close.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror hung nearest his chair for the sheer pleasure of vanity. On a day in the very near future he’d no longer see an image of himself. All great ones become omnipotent and the few qualities they possessed of this small world must disappear, but he’d not yet exonerated his father. It was with justice that immortality came.
He dialed from memory and waited as he took in the slender frame and almost feminine features that reflected off of the glass. He wasn’t a large man, nor particularly masculine, but he had wisdom and wisdom was the greatest strength of all.
“I am here,” a voice said on the opposite end of the line.
“As you should be. Have you found any information which will aid us for the moon is high, the time could be now.”
“I’ve searched as you desire, My Master,” the voice said.
“Continue.”
“As you wish,” the trembling voice replied.
The Most Masterful closed the phone and pushed the antennae in with the palm of his hand.
Then he reached for the cola and decided without question.
He so preferred this sweet liquid in the red can to the similar concoction in the blue.
Chapter 4
Beth listened to a bird calling--beckoning somewhere in the distance. She took a d
elicate drag on her cigarette and hoped the kids wouldn’t catch her with it. Smoking had been a vice since she’d been a nervous co-ed. In smoky bars or at sorority parties, smoking had helped her feel like perhaps she wasn’t so different. She’d always been ashamed by the weakness however, and now only indulged in a filtered cigarette when she was incredibly nervous or incredibly relaxed. Two guesses what kind of day today was.
Beth turned when she heard light footsteps on the back porch. She leaned back from her spot on the step to see Ramona dressed casually with a tear in her eye. “Damn, I told myself I wouldn’t cry,” she said as she plopped down.
Beth leaned in and bumped her friend’s shoulder. “I’d be secretly heartbroken if you didn’t.”
Ramona took Beth’s dainty cigarette and inhaled before handing it back. “Never a good sign.”
Beth crushed the remainder under her sandaled foot and hoisted, brushing her palms on the legs of her jeans. “I guess I’m ready.”
Ramona hopped up too and pulled Beth tight to her chest. “Oh, honey, I’m going to miss you so much. I can’t believe you’re not going to be here.”
“I’m just a phone call away, Ramona. Never more than that.”
Ramona released her grip and swatted her eye with the back of her wrist. “Are you absolutely certain that this is the right thing to do?”
“Absolutely.”
“And Chris has just backed down now? He just told you that you could go?”
Beth couldn’t let her mind wander yet again to the night she’d broken him, used him one last time and stripped him of everything from his conviction to his children. “I think he knows its best.”
Ramona slid her hands into her back pockets. “Okay then, let’s get you out of here before I really make a scene.”
Beth swung her arm around her friend’s shoulder. She’d miss her too--the talks, the carpools, the recipes, the giggles, the understanding. Her friends before Ramona had always been polished and standoffish, not bawdy and fun. Ramona would be the thing Beth missed the most. “Did you see Chris when you came in?”
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