Kestrel

by A. M. Hargrove

  He covers my hands with his and says, “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. Trust me. If you’ve ever trusted me with anything in your life, trust me with this.” I move to slip him inside of me but he stops me.

  “There’s only one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Marry me.”

  “Isn’t this a little fast?”

  He laughs. “Oh, and having a baby-angel isn’t?”

  My face contorts. “Yeah, you’re right. Let me get the condom.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

  I look at him and his face is pathetic. He looks like I just killed his puppy.

  “What?”

  “You don’t want to marry me?”

  I beam. “Of course I want to marry you. I’m just agreeing with you that maybe we need to do this in the proper order.”

  “There is no proper order when you’re in love.”

  He does have a point.

  “True, but I want you to myself for a while. Babies are awesome, but they’re time consuming. I want it to be just us.”

  “So … what you’re saying is you’ll marry me anyway.”

  “Yep.”

  “Like now?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Whenever I want?” he asks.

  “You name the day and I’m ready.”

  He points to his cast and says, “I want to get this damn thing off first so I can properly fuck you on our honeymoon.”

  Now I laugh. “Fair enough. Besides, I have all sorts of ideas I want you to try on me.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. So get that cast off and we’ll get married.” I hold out my hand and he shakes it.

  “Deal. This is the strangest engagement I’ve ever heard of.”

  “You started it.”

  “No, the condom did.”

  “I love you, bubs.”

  “And where did this ‘bubs’ come from?”

  I cast him a sheepish look. “You see, I’ve succumbed to the pet name thing.”

  “Oh, you have, have you?”

  “Yeah. And I hate babe, baby, and that sort of thing. It just doesn’t work for me. But I love bubby. So I’m calling you bubby or bubs.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You think a bird for a pet name is demeaning, but bubby or bubs isn’t?”

  “No. Bubby and bubs are adorable. You’re like a big Teddy bear to me.”

  “Hmm. Teddy bear. Bubs.” He scratches his forehead. I need to do something to divert his attention, so I take his cock in my hand and start massaging it.

  “I know what you’re doing.”

  Grinning, I say, “I certainly hope so.” I scoot off him and take him into my mouth. When he starts groaning, and his fingers tangle in my hair, I know he’s forgotten all about bubs.

  Soon he yanks my head back and says two words. “On top.”

  That’s something I don’t refuse. I cage his legs with my thighs and lean in toward his mouth. Smiling, I ask, “Ready, bubs?”

  “Are you?” He slides his cock into my opening and I seat myself on it.

  “Is that answer enough?”

  Hands grip my hips and he moves me up and down as my own fingers sink into his shoulders. Kestrel takes over my body, like he always does when we make love. He invades my blood, my soul, and my heart. Our gazes connect and I couldn’t pull mine away from his if I tried my hardest. He saturates me with his being as if every molecule of his invades mine. We define the true meaning of becoming one.

  Tiny beads of perspiration cover us both, making us glisten. One of his hands moves to my nipple and he brushes the back of it across it. “Lean into me. I want to taste you.”

  When I do, he slips out a little and I moan in disappointment.

  “We’re not in any rush, angel.” His breath is hot against my breast. My hand presses his head against me. His hair is longer now. He hasn’t cut it since Christmas and my hand grabs a chunk of it. It makes him look wild, untamed, like the man he claims to be. I know a different side of him, though. My bubs. I smile. Just then, his teeth nip into me and I moan again.

  “Ahh!”

  “Mmm. You always taste so sweet.” When he talks it tickles.

  I pull away and say, “You always taste salty.”

  He laughs and thrusts upwards making me gasp. We’re back to our rhythm now.

  “Shall I make you come?”

  My voice is shaky as I answer yes. His hand moves to the right place between my legs and he says, “Oh, angel, you are like silk.”

  “To your velvet.”

  “Come for me.”

  “I’m almost there.” And then I climax and he follows. What is it about a man having an orgasm that’s so damn sexy? Or is it just Kestrel? I only know him so I can’t say, but the sound he emits and the way his body contracts is almost spiritual. It makes me want to absorb the moment.

  “I wish I could stretch out on top of you and mold myself to you.”

  “Fucking cast. I want those precious legs of yours wrapped around me. God, I love you, Carter.”

  “I know. I feel loved. I love you back, bubs.” I kiss him. Then I remember. “Um, we didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Use a condom.”

  “Yeah? Maybe we’ll get lucky and have a baby-angel after all.”

  “But then Carter won’t have any Kestrel time.”

  “Oh, yes she will. I don’t care if we have to hire a nanny. Carter will have Kestrel time. I’ll make sure of it. That nanny will take baby-angel to work with you, if she has to.”

  “You’re a nut.”

  “I am aware.”

  “So, when’s the cast supposed to come off?”

  “Yeah, we need to bribe the doctor. Maybe we can get him to take it off early.”

  “Nope. Not going for that. Your leg is more important.”

  He takes my hand and says, “You’ll really marry me?”

  There’s so much doubt and uncertainty in his eyes, it pains me.

  “Kestrel, I love you more than anything. If you didn’t have that cast, I would marry you tomorrow. Actually, I would marry you tomorrow anyway. The cast isn’t an issue for me.”

  “I promise to always be your parachute, angel. Always.”

  He looks at my hand, and rubs circles on my knuckles with his thumb. Sometimes I wish I could read his mind. Then he looks up at me and smiles. “Will you take me to Ells’ headstone?”

  “Yes. But why?”

  “I’ve never been and think it’s time I go.”

  “Okay. When?”

  “Today.”

  It’s an ordeal loading him in the backseat of the SUV that he now owns. It’s one of those giant Chevy Suburbans. He needed that so he could sit in the back seat with his leg extended on the bench style seat. He can walk fine with crutches. We get to the cemetery and the headstone isn’t that far from the narrow road. I park so the side of the car he exits from will be facing the marker. We take it slow and easy. The headstone looms in the distance and I feel myself getting teary-eyed, as I always do when I come here.

  “It’s okay, angel.” He knows. He always knows.

  We get there and I lovingly run my fingers over her name. Kestrel stands silent for a moment, but then he surprises me when he begins speaking.

  “Hi Ells. My name’s Kestrel, but you probably already know that. I wanted to stop by and introduce myself to you because I’m going to marry your Mom. I want to make a couple of promises to you. First, I’ll take very good care of her. She won’t ever have to want for anything ever again. Second, I promise to love and cherish her every day of my life until there is no longer breath in my body. This I swear to you. I hope to give her plenty of angel-babies, like you are. Which brings me to the last thing I want to tell you. I know in my heart you were in the car with us that day. So thank you for being our guardian angel and watching out for us and keeping us safe. Ells, I also know that had I met you when you lived in our world, I would
’ve loved you as much as I love your Mom.”

  Jesus H. Christ. He pulls me into his arms as I cry silent tears of joy. When I can speak, I say, “And one other thing Ells, you would’ve loved him like crazy.”

  Then we turn and slowly make our way back to the car. The sun suddenly breaks through the leaden sky, and streaks of gold slant in front of us, paving a deep lustrous yellow path to our car. I look up at Kestrel and he smiles down at me. We both say, “Ells.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Kestrel

  A small group is gathered at the house. It includes Foster and his wife Janet, Kolson and Gabby, Harper, John and his wife, and then of course, Carter and me. It’s the first week of April and Charleston is at its finest. The back yard is a treasure of blooms. Wisteria hangs heavy with vines dripping in lavender blossoms, azaleas have burst out everywhere painting the yard in a hue of pinks and reds, the huge flowers of the magnolia trees have popped out, and the fragrance of gardenias permeates the air.

  At my firm insistence, Carter finally hired a full-time staff. One is a cook and two others do household chores. They are here, too, but we’ve actually had the food catered in from Huck’s Restaurant tonight. We’re serving quite a medley—lobster, crab cakes, beef tenderloin medallions, a variety of sushi, grilled vegetables skewers, tomato caprese, baby spinach salad, and wedding cake for dessert.

  Carter didn’t want a big fancy wedding and neither did I. When I told her how Gabby and Kolson did their wedding, she liked the idea so much, she wanted to copy it. So that’s what we did. Foster performed the brief ceremony and now we’re on to the celebrating part.

  Harper grabs my arm and gushes, “This food is amazing!”

  “Tell Carter. It was all her choice.”

  Harper skitters away to find Carter. Kolson looks at me and says, “Well, bro, you did it.”

  “Oh, did I ever.” I only have eyes for one person here and she knows it. She turns to look at me and I wink.

  “I’m happy they get along so well,” Kolson says.

  “Are you kidding? Gabby would never have let me marry someone she didn’t approve of. She would’ve harassed, hounded, or done everything in her power to run the poor girl off.”

  “Probably.”

  “Probably?”

  “She was worried you were going to hitch up permanently with one of those hooker type chicks you used to date.”

  “Really? You had to bring that up? At my wedding?”

  Kolson shrugs. “Sorry, bubs.” Then he laughs.

  “Aw, Christ. Is nothing sacred in my life?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Shaking my head, I walk away and head toward my wife. When I reach her, I say, “So, dear wife, I have a bone to pick with you.”

  “I knowwwww.” She screws up her face. “I’m so sorry. I did it by accident. It just slipped out. But don’t worry. I got them back.”

  “How?”

  “I told them what I thought of pet names and the thing about birds. I pretended I didn’t know what a kea was. I told them that I thought it was disgusting to be called a nasty assed bird. You should’ve seen their faces. It was righteous, bubs.”

  I grab her around the waist and lift her in the air. “I love you!”

  “Hey, you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not good for your leg.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I put her down. “By the way, have I told you how gorgeous you are today?”

  “Um, let’s see. Maybe a dozen or more times.”

  “Good. I’m telling you again. You are positively a goddess, and thank God you’re mine. Your dress is perfect. I’m glad you didn’t wear cupcake.”

  “As if.”

  “And I’m glad you didn’t wear some white concoction. This gold is your color.”

  “I thought you’d approve. It reminded me of the dress I wore to that formal fund raiser we went to.”

  “It does. But I like this one even better. Those thin straps are begging for me to rip them off of you with my teeth. It reminds me of a slinky negligee.”

  “You’d better not rip them off until later. And it is slinky. Why do you think I got it?”

  “To tempt me?”

  “Precisely.”

  I reach around and cup her ass.

  “Hey. We have company.”

  “Like I care.” I pull her in and kiss her. Not a light and gentle one either. “Mmm. You taste of champagne. I can’t wait to taste the rest of you. Tell me, angel, are you wet?”

  “Do you honestly have to ask me that?”

  Glancing around quickly, assessing the crowd, I wonder if we have time for a quickie. But she reads my mind.

  “Not in the least.”

  “No?”

  “No. Not that I wouldn’t love it.”

  My crestfallen look has her giggling.

  “Don’t worry, bubs, I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  We mingle and eat and mingle and drink. The sun sinks over the harbor and our limo waits for us in the driveway to whisk us to the airport. Soon we board the private jet and fly to our honeymoon destination—Tahiti.

  ***

  Nine Months Later

  “Breathe, angel. Now push!”

  “You fucking push. I’m tired of pushing.” She’s pissed and I can’t say I blame her.

  “You’re almost there, Mrs. Hart. One more time,” the doctor says.

  “Come on, Carter,” I urge as I stand next to her shoulder. “You can do it.”

  She grabs my hand and, holy fuck, she’s going to break all the bones in it.

  “Like I have a fucking choice? Ugh!” she groans, as she pushes again. Damn, her face is red. So red it’s almost purple. Is that safe? That can’t be safe. Shit, I hope she doesn’t kill herself in here. My heart pounds in my chest.

  It’s a long and hard one but the doctor says very calmly, “That’s it, Mrs. Hart. Just one more and you’re done.”

  “You fucking lied to me. That’s what you said last time,” Carter accuses.

  In the calmest voice I can muster, I say. “Come on, angel, focus.”

  “Focus, my ass. You focus, goddammit! Jesus Christ, how big is this fucking baby anyway?” she yells.

  This time an entire series of curse words fly out of Carter’s mouth as she pushes. She’s dropped enough F-bombs to blow up the damn hospital. Under any other circumstance, I might be embarrassed. But I feel terrible for her. I never knew what women endured during labor and delivery. Jesus, why do they even have kids? Now I have to question how the human race survived.

  The doctor’s voice finally has an element of excitement in it. For a while there I thought she was half dead. “Mrs. Hart, the head is out! The tough part is over.”

  “Whoopti-fucking-doo!” Sarcasm oozes out of Carter.

  Is this my wife talking? My sweet, gentle wife? It must be the drugs. It has to be the drugs. I look at the doctor, but she’s not paying attention, she’s holding the baby that’s half in and half out of Carter’s vagina, and oh hell, can that be our baby? That thing is nasty looking. It’s covered in some kind of disgusting looking grayish-white slime. And blood. Deep breath Kestrel. Holy shit if I faint, I’ll never live it down. Why do babies look like shit when they’re born? They’re supposed to be pink and pretty. No one prepared me for this! How can I ever look at Carter’s vagina again and not think of this? I am so screwed.

  The doctor twirls the little bugger around and then I see. Its face is smashed in and it’s covered in that slimy shit. Is that normal? How can it breathe? Is it breathing? Oh, God, it’s a boy. Now I really wanna faint. How the fuck am I going to be a father?

  “Mrs. Hart. Mr. Hart. Congratulations. You have a son!”

  Carter is crying. “Bubs, we have a boy!”

  They lay the slime-covered thing on her chest and she’s rubbing it. She’s actually touching it with her hands! Oh, God, now I’m really freaked. It looks like an alien. The doctor clamps the cord and asks me if I wa
nt to cut it. The fuck? She wants me to do that? What if I say no? Will that make me look like a shit? So I take the scissors with a shaky hand and snip the rubbery looking tube. I really want to vomit now. Holding back a gag, I watch them mash Carter’s belly and pull the remains of the placenta out. Ack! It looks like a deflated purplish-gray rubber ball. This is beyond disgusting. Fucking A. Can it possibly get any worse? Wasn’t it better when fathers stayed in the waiting rooms? Why the hell did they change things? Who was the idiot that decided we needed to be in here for this? Oh, God, help me. I’m sweating now and my head is buzzing.

  “Bubs? Bubs?”

  “Yeah.” I need to breathe. Why can’t I get any air?

  One of the nurses says, “Mr. Hart, take a deep breath.” She wheels one of those stools behind me and shoves me onto it, then pushes my head between my knees. “Deep breaths.”

  A few minutes pass and I finally feel normal again. I hear the doctor announce his weight at nine pounds three ounces and that his Apgar is ten, whatever that means. Thank God. Now I need to have another look at baby alien. He’s a fucking baby alien beast! Nine fucking pounds!

  When I stand, I’m relieved to see they wrapped the thing in a thin blanket. Carter says, “You wanna hold him?”

  No! Not really. Is he still slimy? “Yeah,” I hear myself croak. My hands shake as she hands him to me and suddenly this indescribable ooey-gooey feeling rushes over me. Then it invades every one of my pores and I keep repeating, “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” I feel water dripping on my hands and realize it’s my own tears. My ass collapses back down on that stool.

  “You okay, bubs?” Carter asks.

  “Yeah,” I breathe. “Oh my God. He’s beautiful. He’s the most beautiful thing in the universe. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? And he’s ours, angel. I’m overwhelmed by our little miracle here. You were right.”