She was in love with this man, how was she ever going to continue working with him feeling the way she did? Sable made sure that everything was turned off, and locked the door behind her.
On her way home, she stopped at the bakery to get some fresh cinnamon rolls. Once home, she checked her messages from the night before, showered and went to work. It was 7:30 a.m. when she walked into her office and saw the single red rose, in a slim crystal vase, centered on her desk.
Picking up the rose, inhaling its lovely scent with eyes closed in peaceful bliss, she felt as if she was being watched. Slowing opening her eyes, she saw Stephen standing in the doorway, leaning against it with arms folded across his chest, a slight smile on his lips.
He was suppose to be the only person in the building until 9:00 a.m. When he heard the movement of the elevators; he thought he had better go and investigate. The opening was finally scheduled, and nothing could go wrong.
“Thank you,” she said softly, placing the rose back in its vase, feeling a little self-conscious and a little nervous. She loved him and he didn’t know.
“Are you so sure that it is from me?” Asking quietly, pushing himself to a full stance. Dangerous emotions churned within his body as he walked into her office, almost instinctively.
Slightly startled, she blinked. If it wasn’t from him, who else? Her father? “You didn’t put this here?” she asked, a little alarmed. She couldn’t afford to let him know, that she’d fallen in love with him.
Stephen came around her desk. Although he gently pulled her to her feet, and into his arms, there was nothing gentle about the kiss. He had wanted to kiss her all night. He didn’t get any sleep. His body would not let him.
His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. All rational thoughts flew immediately out of her head. Unable to move a muscle, she watched helplessly spellbound, as his lips slowly descended upon hers.
His kiss, light as a feather, scorching her lips like fire, was soft at first. Then harder, then softer again, demanding her participation. And participate she did.
He held her so firmly, Sable could not move an inch. She did not want to. All she wanted was for him to never stop kissing her. Holding her. With fingers rushing through his hair, as in search of something, anything…she pulled him closer. She wanted more…more and more. The greedy little voice, echoing over and over in her head said…more.
Her knees buckled. Stephen swiftly lifted her in his arms. Never missing a beat, they exchanged tongue for tongue, in a mating ritual dance as old as time.
Running his tongue along her lower lips, lightly biting his way to the top, he sucked on her top lip greedily, Causing several shudders, igniting hidden passion, which ran through Sable’s body like hot lava, demanding release from a volcano…and he embraced it.
Sable’s slender arms, uncontrollably engulfed Stephen’s neck in a locked grip so tight, that if he wanted to get away he could not. Not that he wanted to. Sucking on his tongue, like licking a cold popsicle in the eve of a midsummer’s heat, with slow exquisite finesse, she rotated her lower body against his in amorous abandonment. Physically and sensually telling him where she really wanted her tongue to be, Stephen almost exploded.
Shit! He thought. Damn! The woman was driving him insane. He was talking to himself in his head. Sable was still pressing against him, demanding that he quench the inferno he had started. He was still refusing to let her go.
Let her go! He told himself. Still kissing. Let her go before it’s too late! Still kissing her, while running his hand over her soft round bottom, as she pressed closer. He groaned out loud, not caring about the consequences. You care, you fool! The voice said in his head. With what little strength he had, he released her lips with much regret.
They had kissed each other’s lips lovingly with the pain of wanting, but not getting. Heavily breathing, and staring into each other’s eyes, “yes, I put the rose there.” He affirmed in a voice so laced with passion, that she trembled with uncensored need. Stephen placed Sable back on her feet, but could not let her go. Not yet.
He held her locked to him. Looking into her eyes with such possessiveness that Sable instinctively molded herself closer to him, not looking away. Both complying with their unspoken understanding, that she was his, and he…he was hers.
She would take whatever she could get for now. Pushing back, an echo of pain twisting in her heart, Sable wished that Stephen loved her, just as she loved him.
Chapter 21
Sitting next to Lorna’s bedside all night, and thinking of all he had been told had Nick in a very bad mood. How was he supposed to handle this? What would make a man hurt his own daughter this way?
Lt. Brown, walking into the room again after one whole week of investigating several cases, was feeling frustration from the unsolved murder case still on his desk. Getting more concrete information on this one, he had not expected anyone to be in Lornas’ room.
From all the information he had been able to gather, this woman either had no other family, or was not close to them. Either way, he was surprised to see Nick there; he had expected this guy to be long gone by now.
“How is she?” He asked, looking at her with eyes of pity. It was going to be a shock to her, when she learn she had killed her father, who had a criminal record and was a known child molester. He also needed to find out, if she had any other living relatives.
“She’s doing better.” Nick replied solemnly. Not looking at Lorna or Lt. Brown, he had a lot on his mind and wanted to be alone. He had to think.
“Are you and Ms. Carter close?” At the look on Nick’s face, he rephrased the question. “What I mean is, are you and the lady here in a relationship?” Lt. Brown’s eyes looked right through a person; he didn’t like what he saw in Nick.
Nick glanced at Lorna. Hey, he loved her, he thought. But could he forgive her for not confiding in him? He said nothing. Lt. Brown asked again, but with less authority in his voice. “What can you tell me about her? Does she have any other relatives we need to contact?”
He needed to know what Nick knew, if anything. His instincts told him not to trust Nick, and he always trusted his instincts. This one bears watching; there was something just not right about him.
“Yes.” Nick finally replied quietly, looking at Lorna as if he was trying to figure something out. “Her mother lives somewhere in the south.”
“Do you know her mother’s name?” Lt. Brown quietly asked. Oh yes, this one bears watching. Something is not right here, he thought, while making notes on his pad.
Nick thought for a minute, placing a finger to his lip for emphasis, “Yes…her name is Jean…Jean Carter,” gazing at Detective Brown as if he had just given him the name to a mass murderer and wanted credit.
Scum. That was the first thing that came to mind when looking at this guy. Scum. He does not care two cents for this young woman, Lt. Brown thought, as he continued jotting down notes. He wondered if Lorna knew what kind of slime she was involved with. Probably not, that pretty face of his has most likely helped him with women way too often.
Glancing up from his notepad, “Do you know where I can find her?” He did not like this guy. He did not know why, just a gut feeling, and he had learned to trust his instincts.
“No.” Feeling like the victim, Nick’s eyes were downcast with sorrow. I cannot believe she did this to me, he thought. “We never talked about her family,” pausing, and then sniffling. Rubbing his hands over his eyes as if exhausted, “…I always wanted to know more about Lorna,” he lied smoothly. “But she wouldn’t say…” he broke off choking, as if he could not speak anymore, looking sympathetically to Lt. Brown for understanding.
It did not work. Being on the force for twenty-five years, teaches you a few things. One, recognizing a liar. Two, acknowledging a creep. Three, never trusting scum. This guy was all three. One. Two. Three. You’re out, Lt. Brown thought, as he snapped his notepad shut trying to control his anger.
Giving Nick a direct
blank look, “thank you for your assistance.” With what little information he got from Nick and his own investigation, he had to find and inform Jean Carter of the events that landed her daughter in the hospital.
Leaving the hospital, feeling as if he had just walked from the presence of a dead skunk, he thought he should take a bath just to make sure. Starting his car, he sat for a few seconds to compose himself. Turning on the radio, he tuned it to classical music.
If the guys from the precinct heard this, he would never live it down, he knew. Pulling out into traffic, he began to calm down. Lt. Brown wondered if Mrs. Carter already knew her daughter was in the hospital, and just did not come to see her.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He also wanted to know, if she knew her husband was a child molester?
Remembering how that young lady looked lying in the hospital bed, battered. Beaten. Almost violated by her own father— sickened him to his stomach. Then seeing that scum Nick, act as if he were the one hurt, made him want to hit him.
As he stopped at the traffic light, he remembered taking one more look at Lorna, shaking his head then leaving here room, and standing against the wall outside her door, trying not to cry. Lorna was still heavily sedated; the doctors said she was in deep shock. She hadn’t said one word since being admitted, one week ago.
Two days later…
Jean Carter was about to leave the house when the phone rang. “Hello…yes this is Ms. Carter.”
“Yes, I have a daughter named Lorna…Oh my goodness no!” Slamming down the phone, running out of the house without locking the front door, and jumping into her car, she backed out of the driveway without looking into her rearview mirror, barely missing little James practicing on his new tricycle.
Jimmie, turning off the lawnmower, ran over to his son and was heard by another neighbor calling Jean ‘a crazy witch’ as she drove away. She did not hear him. Her only thought was getting to the church. She had to see Rev. Thomas.
Rev. Thomas was conducting Wednesday night Bible study class, when Jean came bursting into the church like a tornado. Every eye in the room turned toward her in question, while some of them started whispering to each other in answer, but she did not care.
Running right up to the front of the church, “I have to speak to you!” She was agitated, wide-eyed with fear.
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Carter?” he asked quietly, calmly. Rev. Thomas had never seen her like this, and knew immediately something had to be seriously wrong.
Jean, wringing her hands together, began pacing back and forth. With tears glittering in her eyes, suddenly she stopped. “Lorna is in the hospital!” she yelled. Bursting out in hysterical tears, screaming, “she’s been attacked!” Pulling on his arms, she tried to embrace him, pleading for him to understand. To help. She needed him.
The majority of the church’s congregation, those who did not want to be the topic of gossip, attended the classes and were listening closely. Jean was normally among them.
Rev. Thomas, feeling like this was a very private matter, tried to get Jean to calm down and follow him to his office, but she would not move. “Jean…you have to calm down, come with me to my office.” He pleaded, while gently pulling at her arms for her to follow him.
A wild look came into her eyes. Surely he would not leave her again, and certainly he would not turn his back on her again!
“You have to help me! Our little girl needs us! You have to help me!” Sounds of shocked disbelief ran throughout the church; some were whispering about this new development. Rev. Thomas, mouth open wide, was stunned. What was she talking about?
Jean Carter’s arms flew into the air, looking to all like she was going to fly. Then she fainted, with shocked eyes of disbelief from those in attendance, staring at her and then to Rev. Thomas. Tongues began to wag. Whispers, condemning eyes, and gleeful looks could be seen all around.
Many could not wait to get home, to call those who were not there and spread the news. Gleefully recounting the night’s events in colorful details, insuring that those who did not attend classes on this night, would be sorry that they didn’t. There was a small group…remaining in silent prayer.
Someone ran to Jean’s side; it was Mr. Rollins, the choir director. The secretary told everyone the classes would be cancelled until next week. As people left the church, all that could be heard was, “What was she talking about?” “Do you think they were having an affair?” “How could Lorna be his child?” “I always thought she was strange,” and so the comments continued, until the church was empty of all class members.
Rev. Thomas knelt next to Jean, as he and Mr. Rollins tried to revive her. Opening her eyes, grabbing at his arms as if they were a life jacket, “Richard…I knew you loved me…I kept our child safe. I knew you would come back, you were just angry that night you left me on the football field. I knew you would come back to me,” she said franticly. Then, Jean Carter fainted again, leaving Rev. Thomas, his secretary and Mr. Rollins—all staring at her in shock.
Chapter 22
Refusing to answer any questions by the many reporters camping outside of Van Cleef Enterprises, George Van Cleef gave silent thanks for the private entrance he had constructed several months earlier.
He was tired of hearing the same question over and over again. They all wanted to know how he felt about having ‘the world’s most desired woman’ working for him.
He held one news conference since the story made national news. He did not like talking to the media, but for Lorna’s sake, he did. When it quieted enough for him to talk, he stated ‘no comment’ and told them that Van Cleef Enterprises took care of their employees. Then, he walked off the podium, leaving the media to think and print what they wanted, which they did anyway.
When he entered his office, he was greeted with the sight of Sable and Stephen going over final plans for the grand opening.
“Hello Daddy.” Sable greeted him with a hug that they both were in much need of.
“Hello Stephen, I see that you both are looking over the final plans, so what do you think?” He asked, while taking off his jacket, then rolling up his sleeve preparing for work.
“Well sir, I believe we’re ready.” Stephen said confidently, and went to have a seat on the sofa. George stood at the window, and Sable sat across from him in a smaller chair.
“Yes, I believe we’re ready too, but before we continue, how is Lorna?” Directing his question more to Sable than Stephen for he knew Sable and Lorna were friends.
Gently rubbing her temples, “The doctors said she will be released this week. Nick is still there, refusing to leave her side,” she said softly, helplessness ringing in her voice.
Seeing his little girl in distress, his voice had a hard edge to it. “It’s a darn shame what’s happened to her…we’ll do whatever we can for her.”
He was angrier about what happened to Lorna than either Sable or Stephen knew. It reminded him of the past and being helpless to protect those that he cared about.
“I heard that the man who attacked her was her father, is that true?” he asked. Dead calm laced his voice; Sable had never heard his voice sound so deadly.
“Yes Daddy, it’s true,” Sable said, briefly looking to Stephen, then quietly in a voice laced with unleashed tears, told her father the whole sick story.
When she was finished, tears were streaming down her cheeks and both George’s and Stephen’s eyes blazed with fury.
Loosening his tie, “My gawd,” pulling at it as if it were choking him. “It’s a good thing he is dead, or I would have killed him myself!” He was furious. It took a lot for George Van Cleef to lose his temper.
Stephen said with all sincerity, “I feel the same way,” his voice dripping with enough venom to scare a snake. Both men were reliving a past filled with pain, agony and desolation.
They both, having lost someone they loved because of the actions of someone else, wanted nothing more than to kill Harry Carter all over again. They knew Lorna
for having a kind heart and always willing to help. The thought of the way she suffered not only angered them, but also fanned their flames for revenge.
Reigning in his emotions, taking a deep breath, “there is something I want to tell you both before the opening,” George said quietly…turning toward the window, looking out at nothing in particular.
Changing the subject in a blink of an eye, to both Stephen and Sable, the transformation was out of character for him. He seemed to be in another place and time.
Solemnly, quietly, his tone of voice void of emotions, George explained how he met and knew the Chadwicks. Pausing to control his emotion, he told them about Jennie and his mother’s death. The office was so quiet. When he paused, the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of his wall clock. Sitting silently, Stephen and Sable said not a word.
He told them of his years of struggle to survive. The nights of going without food and sometimes shelter while caring for his child. Fresh tears started to cloud Sable’s eyes. George told how he got into the business and then why he changed his name.
Stephen, hearing Sable’s silent tears, had fists balled so tightly, and the muscles in his hands were noticeably taut. George told them all about his past hurts and pains. Intentionally, he left out the fact that Joseph Chadwick was Sable’s grandfather. He would tell her that later.
She could not stand it anymore; Sable was about to interrupt him. Although he had not turned from the window, he knew his daughter well. “No, darling,” he said tenderly, “…let me finish. I want both you and Stephen to know that I made a promise many years ago and I intend to keep it.”
Still looking out of the window, with his back to them both, “I have waited many years for this,” he said quietly, “and Joseph Chadwick will pay.” He ended, his voice deadly calm. Both Sable and Stephen knew he meant it.
Mirror, Mirror on the Wall Page 14