Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

by Lisa Ann Porter

  “Barbara, tell my father I’m on my way.” Her voice was quiet and controlled, both she and Stephen knew it was far from the truth.

  Stepping away from Stephen’s passionate embrace, Sable slowly turned away needing to compose herself before meeting her father. Walking to the opposite side of the office toward a beautiful antique mirror, she assessed the damage to her lipstick from their intense kissing.

  Touching her slightly swollen lips with trembling fingers, she reached into her suit pocket pulling out her lipstick, hoping that he did not notice her shaky hands.

  Stephen never took his eyes off her. After making minor adjustments, lipstick mainly, she turned to see Stephen still sitting on the edge of his desk staring at her…contemplating…eyes still dark with passion. “You have one second, Sable,” was all he said in no more than a dangerous whisper.

  Hearing that last ominous warning, Sable gently placed her lipstick back into her pocket. Hands still shaking and legs too, she slowly walked toward the door. Placing her still shaking hand on the cool doorknob, when suddenly Stephen’s hands were on the closed door, preventing it from opening. She did not hear him move. When she tried turning to face him, Stephen pressed himself closer to her preventing any movement, inhaling her sensual perfume.

  Feeling the solid weight of his body pressing against hers, instinctively allowing her head to fall back onto his shoulders, Sable embraced the sensations flooding her body, causing them both to tremble in pleasure. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the bliss.

  “Sable…” he said. Allowing his lips the pleasure of lightly touching the base of her neck, feeling the pulse beat erratically, he licked at it attentively with his tongue. His breath felt so warm against her skin; she shivered in anticipation. “The next time…” the pause was full with promise, “…I give no warnings.” Helplessly, lightly kissing her neck over the pulse beating frantically from his touch, he forcibly walked back behind his desk and sat down.

  Visibly shaken beyond anything she had ever experienced, powerlessly turning to glance at him over her shoulder, she shuddered from his look full of determination and potent sensual promise.

  Momentarily closing her eyes against the intensity, Sable chanced one more look at Stephen, and a fierce shudder raced through her body, making her squeeze the doorknob for control she was no longer feeling. Tightly grasping the knob, slowly turning away from Stephen, she opened his office door, took a deep breath, and went to see her father.

  Chapter 15

  The halls of Van Cleef Enterprises hummed with excitement as each department prepared for the final preparations on the Chadwick project. Sable, making her way toward her father’s office, did not notice. Her mind was still on Stephen and their intimate encounter. From the outside observer, her steady feminine strides spoke of confidence and strength, but Sable’s elegant legs wobbled with each step she took.

  The vivid memories flashing freshly in her mind and the knowledge that she was in love with Stephen had her insides quivering with excitement and fear. Excitement because she had never felt this way before about anyone. Fear because it was new, unfamiliar, and dangerous territory that she had knowledge of only from various observations, or from listening to other people who either enjoyed the experience, or avoided it like the plague.

  Warm electricity humming in her body, made a slight smile touch her lips, as understanding dawned that they had not only kissed, but also touched each other in ways that only destined lovers, partners, would do.

  This is only the beginning, she thought with each determined step she took, aware but not reacting to the chaos of the various department heads shouting orders, while subordinates scurried to comply nervously around her.

  This, she was sure of, was a journey that neither would turn away from. But the question was, did she want to?

  Sable knew that she was in love with Stephen; she did not know when it happened, or how; she just knew that she was in love with Stephen Hart. Now, what to do about it, she thought, continuing to her father’s office.

  Standing at her father’s office door, she took a deep breath hoping to focus herself. Her father said to her often when she was a little girl, control yourself. Taking another deep breath, Sable stepped confidently into his office. They greeted each other with hugs, kisses on the cheeks as always, then immediately got down to business. Like father, like daughter.

  George, needing to give Sable more details about the Chadwick project before his next meeting, being an astute man was instantly aware of the change in his daughter. Restraining himself from questioning her was hard on him. He loved her so very much, but memories of all the times she carefully and patiently reminded him that she was a grown woman and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, while kissing him gently on the cheek as if to comfort him, often kept him from opening his mouth.

  A grown woman. He mentally shook his head, knowing he did not want to think about that and all that came with it. She is still his little girl, he thought stubbornly.

  As he talked about the various events that would be taking place simultaneously, he noticed the blank look on Sable’s face. The importance of things going as scheduled was too vital for Sable to be thinking of something else other than the subject at hand. This was not like her at all. He did not like it. There could be no mistakes. The Chadwick project must go as he had planned.

  Finally, when he had reached the end of his patience as a father, not as a businessman, he asked quietly, “little girl…what’s wrong?” Sable said nothing for a few minutes. Not wanting him to worry, because nothing was wrong, she was just in love for the first time in her life and needed to think about it.

  “Nothing Daddy,” she said smiling, stressing the word Daddy on purpose. Shaking his head at her stubbornness, briefly wondering from whom she had gotten that trait. Then he smiled, knowing that both he and Jennie were stubborn to a fault, and Sable did not stand a chance of being passive with them as parents. He mentally admitted temporary defeat, knowing that when she was ready, she would come to him.

  It was still hard sometimes, knowing his little girl really was a grown woman, because he still desperately wanted to protect her from the disappointments and hurts of the world. A slight smile touched her lips, as her eyes twinkled with love, understanding the concern she saw in his eyes.

  “I’m fine Daddy…really,” she said confidently. “I’m your daughter, remember? You’ve taught me well.”

  Yes. He did try to teach her all he knew, not only about business, but also about life as well. Despite his fatherly concerns, he would have to trust her to make good sound decisions for her life, even if he did not approve. He hoped that when the time came, she would ask for his advice, and not stubbornly try to handle everything on her own. Everyone needs a little help sometimes.

  Respecting her decision and accepting her response, they continued their meeting going over every detail with meticulous consideration. When they were sure that every ‘I’ was dotted, and every ‘t’ was crossed, they hugged one another affectionately, both reveling in their unique relationship as father and daughter.

  When Sable touched his cheek gently, like she had always done since she was a little girl, he saw that she still had that faraway look in her eyes. He would not push for answers. Unfortunately, she was way too much like him, he thought with parental pride. Giving her one last fatherly squeeze, he closely watched her as she walked toward his office door, quietly closing it behind her.

  Glancing at his watch, he began preparing for his other meeting with the chief of police. Being a very astute man, he knew his daughter, and knew she did not seem upset, but there was something there each time he mentioned Stephen’s name.

  Grabbing his briefcase, exiting his office, he quickly waved at his secretary as he continued on to the elevators. As he patiently waited for the elevator, his mind reflected back to his daughter. He suspected she had feelings for Stephen. He would not interfere. Stephen is a good man, he thought.

  Steppin
g into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, he secretly hoped Sable and Stephen would find their way to each other. Having that special kind of love, he thought as the elevator made its descent, only happens once in a lifetime. Jennie’s face flashed before his eyes. Focus, he told himself.

  Arriving on the ground floor, stepping outside to a beautiful sunny day and his awaiting driver, he looked up at the clear blue sky. Yes, they would be good for one another, George thought, while slipping into the car.

  Chapter 16

  Jean Carter’s face twisting with fear and anxiety looked more like a creature from a horror movie, rather than the patient supportive wife and mother that she portrayed with academic performance.

  Ignoring the house she so meticulously cleaned, ensuring that not a speck of dust could be found, just in case anyone should come to visit, which no one did, her restless mind wondered about the daughter she had not seen in ten years.

  Lorna had been gone for ten years, she thought, while removing lint off her peach-colored sweater. Ten long years, her chaotic mind whispered, causing her to slightly shiver from the memories she had so desperately tried to ignore.

  She had no idea where Lorna could be, though she suspected Harry might know, she thought with despair, constantly rubbing her hands down her arms hoping for comfort.

  She had talked to Rev. Thomas about it numerous times. Each time, he’d looked into her eyes with great love while holding her hands, telling her to pray and maybe…God willing, Lorna will come back home. To her. To them. She always felt so much better after meeting with him, the thought making her hug herself with glee as a soft smile touched the corners of her Vaseline-covered lips.

  Jean thoughtfully remembered Rev. Thomas telling her, in one of their many meetings, that Lorna did come to see him. However, as Lorna’s pastor, she must understand that he was obligated never to reveal anything they had talked about.

  The obligation was not only to Lorna, but also to all his parishioners he said while gently holding her hands, comforting her, she assured herself decisively. Of course, she understood obligations and privacy, she thought, while looking out her living room window.

  Privacy must be respected she thought, adjusting the linen curtains ensuring the outside world could not look in. “Privacy,” saying the word out loud, rubbing her callous hands along the curtains gently, smoothing out the wrinkles. Calmer now, turning, she headed toward the stairway.

  Standing at the bottom as if in a trance, she began taking each step with careful precision. Once in her bedroom, walking toward the closet, she stood on tiptoes reaching for the special box she kept behind her hatboxes. Holding it tenderly like fine crystals, sitting ladylike on the carpet floor, she gently opened the box.

  Jean did not know that Lorna never spoke with Reverend Thomas. He did receive a letter from Lorma before she left town, though he never got a chance to read it. He did not mention this to Jean, not wanting to upset her, he told himself. He had found the letter on the floor of his foyer at home.

  Thinking it was strange at the time, but he was on his way out to a very important fundraiser. With so much on his mind, he said he would read it later. Rushing out to the fundraiser, he simply forgot. Somehow, the letter from Lorna was misplaced, or must have been thrown away by mistake.

  He at times wished he had taken the time to read the letter. But he had so much on his mind, and he could not afford to be late to the fundraiser. He was the guest speaker. Maybe he could have prevented the child from running away. All he could do now was pray for Lorna’s safe return and give as much comfort as he could to her parents.

  Serenely, Jean glanced through the pictures kept safely, lovingly, and carefully in her special box. Then, a soft breathe hitch in her throat at the sight of him, Lorna’s father.

  Bringing the picture reverently to her trembling lips, she kissed it lightly. He was so handsome, she thought, smiling girlishly at the photo. How could Lorna accuse him of such a hideous act? He would never hurt her.

  As she sat gazing achingly at the photo, the love for this man ever present in her heart, her hands begins to shake as her eyes clouded with fury. That Lorna would not only accuse her own father of violating her, but also accuse Jean, her own mother, of doing nothing about it, was unforgivable.

  Coldness shimmers in her eyes, making them appear as hard glass, as the memories she had fought so hard to control flooded her already tormented mind, like rushing waters bursting through a paper dam. Didn’t Lorna know that she would never allow such a thing to happen?

  Lorna should really be ashamed of herself, Jean thought in outrage, clutching the picture to her chest as she violently rocked back and forth. Lorna’s father would never do anything to hurt his own daughter. Jean knew this with all her heart.

  She stopped rocking. Smiling brightly at the picture of Lorna’s father, a blush colored her cheeks, as it once did when she was a young girl in school. She gazed lovingly at her only love. Young and handsome in his football uniform, Lorna looked just like him, she thought, as girlish giggles sounding in her throat escaped her lips.

  The picture, Jean Carter so lovingly gazed upon, was a picture of Rev. Thomas at eighteen years old, before he left town, on the one night they spent together in old man Carson’s barn. The night many years ago, when they were both young and foolish, and only one of them in love, Jean.

  The night before he was to leave for ministry training, leaving childhood and all it entailed behind him. Richard Thomas, tall, handsome, and athletic, wanted to just once be able to participate in the locker room gossip with the guys. Each time he did in the past, it was a lie. He wanted to fit in. To belong. Besides, the guys on the football team had all the fun; everyone knew it.

  There were always girls hanging around. Many were willing to do anything, just to be seen with one of them. Some have. So why shouldn’t he? He was a boy for crying out loud. We’re supposed to sow our wild oats before committing ourselves to one girl, aren’t we? This was his only thought on that fateful night, to be like one of the guys. Rev. Thomas had no idea that Lorna was his child.

  When Richard told Jean he was leaving town, she was devastated. “But you said you love me! Don’t you love me?” she screamed, never giving him a chance to answer, while violently pulling at his arms.

  “Aren’t we getting married…you said so!” She started to cry. “You can’t leave me…you can’t!” She yelled, as painful tears flowed down her cheeks.

  Stunned. Jerking his arms from her grasp, he took a step away from her. “Richard, take me with you!” she begged, falling to her knees, franticly reaching for his hands. He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. He was going to college. He was going to have a career. Was she crazy? He was not going to give up his future for one night of sex! It was only sex after all!

  Sure, he told her that he did love her, but not the kind of love that she thought. He said he liked her a lot, and that was the kind of love he meant. Not love-love, but like love.

  “You knew what I wanted Jean…what you wanted!” he said incredulously, while shaking her hands off him. “You know it was just sex, nothing special, everyone’s doing it. Why are you making more of it than what it was?” Stepping further away from her, before she could reach him again.

  “But it was more than sex, Richard,” pleading for him to understand. She was still on her knees, “we made love…you said you love me…” she said sadly, her voice cracking from the pain blazing inside of her. Her mind refusing to acknowledge that he didn’t love her. She knew in her heart he loved her, she knew.

  “What else was I supposed to say?” he asked, looking down on her. “It can’t be the first time you’ve heard it,” he said incredulously. Walking further away, ensuring that she could not touch him anymore, he turned his back to her.

  Blocking out her cries of love and pleas for him not to leave her, he gazed at the football goal at the far end of the field, ignoring her. Then in a voice void of all emotions, he told her that he
was leaving town and just wanted to say goodbye. He always thought she was a nice girl; he ended quietly as if to compensate her.

  Jean refused to believe he was leaving her, and said as much. After hours of trying to make her understand, there was nothing special about their night together, that they did what everyone else did all the time, and she shouldn’t get so upset about it, he finally gave up. He had to get up early in the morning. He did not have time for this. He was leaving early in the morning, and he had to get some sleep.

  Tired. Frustrated. A little afraid because this was not going as he had planned, Richard got angry, and told Jean all he ever wanted to do was to have sex with her. He thought she understood that.

  “People say ‘I love you’ all the time during sex, they don’t mean it!” He yelled at her with disgust, refusing to acknowledge the shame coursing through his body.

  The last thing she remembered, about that cold rainy night, was Richard saying he was leaving town and without her. Watching him walk away from her, and the love they shared, almost killed her inside.

  He looked back once, only to tell her to go home and grow up. She knew what he wanted; he yelled back at her in heightened frustration with each angry step he took, stomping away from her and toward his future, which did not include her.

  She knew all the kids had sex. It was no big deal, she heard him yell with each step he took. Telling her notnot to turn what was good between them into not to not turn what was good between them into something ugly, or to make more of it than it was. As if to make a point, he said, “…just last night, I had sex with Carmen.” Finally reaching his car, searching his pockets for his keys, he was still shouting at her how Carmen, the cheerleader, did not act the way Jean was now doing.

  He was disappointed and disgusted with her. Finding his key, jamming it into the lock, he got into his car and started the engine.