In the Land of Milk and Honey

by Nell E S Douglas

  I reached for his hand, and he allowed it. I looked back into his eyes, letting my fingers feel the rough parts, and the hidden soft ones, too, finally entwining my fingers with his.

  Already half buzzed, I led him into the bedroom.

  When we finished, he dressed and left. I picked up the room and used window cleaner to remove all the marks our bodies left on the glass wall overlooking the city. My streaked palm prints and his, stamped over them, our signatures. The agreement struck. Friends with benefits. A friend I couldn’t acknowledge in public or be seen with. A friend I should rebuke; except he was right that day in his office. Nothing felt like this.

  Chapter 29 - Tail, Tale, Tell

  I was in a field. In my dreams. As I walked around, the blades of grass caressed my legs. I felt it whisper against my shins. I kept walking.

  “That’s a pterodactyl,” I corrected.

  “No, it’s not, Mom,” Tristan objected.

  “He’s right, Bree.”

  I gave Ari a playfully withering look. He grinned.

  “All right, lunch time everybody,” Ari announced, snapping his fingers in the air musically, and the kids clustered around. It was museum day, and I was a parent chaperone, the other having been a no-show. Single file, they held hands and trailed after Ari like a dandelion knot necklace, me at the end. When we got to the cafe area, they lined up. I pulled away to text my second-string pick for chaperone.

  G: You’re missing the dinosaurs.

  D. Baird: Wrong. The dinosaurs are here.

  I snickered.

  G: Can you make it?

  D. Baird: No. I want to see you. Tonight.

  G: Maybe.

  D. Baird: Understood.

  “Plan C,” I muttered. I texted August and invited him to come instead.

  Ari and I were making due as the only two chaperones. He was visibly frustrated by the low parent turnout. I slipped the phone back in my bag and walked with the kids, bringing a chocolate bar from my purse. It was tricky in the afternoons, with Tristan at home and Vi and Ian both sharing my elevator. Discretion was paramount. But Daniel didn’t seem to mind—not that I’d given him a choice.

  We left the big species exhibit for a snack break. When the tables were in sight ahead, I felt a hand clap around my wrist, drawing me into an alcove. My cry of alarm was muffled.

  “You taste like chocolate,” said Daniel, giving me back my mouth.

  I caught my breath. “You made it,” a grin spreading wide. He pressed a firm kiss on my lip.

  “Am I your hero?” he asked sardonically, trying to unbutton my shirt.

  “Wrong damsel. I don’t need any rescuing,” I breathed, as my head lazily tilted back on its own. I started rebuttoning from the top.

  He pulled back. “You must be in shock. You are lying to yourself.”

  “You can’t start fires just to play hero when you put them out.”

  “So I’m an arsonist,” he smiled, kissing my lips. “I didn’t bring a hose.”

  I thought he might be wrong. He regained a few buttons, and I pulled the shirt together tightly, “You’re terrible.”

  “Flattery won’t save you.” Giving up on buttons he rested an elbow on the wall above my head, his jacket veiling us. Eyes downcast, he pulled the shirt over his destination, resting the bunched fabric on top of my breasts as he hooked a finger sharply to reveal what he sought. Then I yanked the top back down.

  He relented marginally when I pushed him back, ducking my head under his arm, and craning my neck out. In the distance, out in the light of the museum exhibit, I found the group of kids huddled around the colorful tyrannosaur display, listening raptly. His head was bent over me, hands flat on the wall beside my head.

  I straightened myself, adding seriously, “You should come say hi.”

  “I will,” he replied, not quite insulted, then the warmth returned tenfold. He grasped my bottom, lifting me on my toes, a thigh hooked around him. “First I must put out this fire,” he blazed.

  I felt dizzy. “I thought you didn’t bring a hose?” I managed to rasp.

  “No,” he said lightly, kissing my nose—and hiked me up firmly, done with games. He whispered, “Just a sword,” and pressed against the wall hard, his fingers sliding under and digging in.

  I opened my mouth to object, but as he one-handedly unsheathed himself, all that came was an empty mannered protest, “We can’t do this here.” I’d done my part. I panted.

  Instantly, his hand flicked, followed by the sound of ripping silk, eliminating all barriers “You’re too late,” he plunged inside me and covered my mouth with his—dragging us deeper into shadows.

  We came out shortly after, grateful he’d been conscientious of time. As we walked out, he reached out and ran his hand down my hair, smoothing a looped strand and sweeping it behind my ear. He was walking slowly beside me, looking down, as I walked a little drunkenly. Wobbly, I brushed into him and straightened, and he smiled. I blushed and turned to face forward.

  “Gabrielle,” August said, wide eyed.

  “Hi,” I said, sobered.

  “Daniel.” August nodded to my hallway companion. A look I’d seen in the Hamptons flashed in Daniel’s eyes. He willed it down quickly as I gave him a quelling look of my own.

  “I texted you, August, because Daniel said he couldn’t make it.” I made the mistake of glancing to my side. A wounded look flashed across Daniel’s face. “Thanks for coming.”

  “It’s close by the new offices,” August said pleasantly.

  “Dad!” Tristan belted, echoing through the soaring ceilings. Ari saw me, irritated I’d disappeared. Tristan’s feet flew over. He barreled into his father. Daniel rested a hand on his shoulder as he landed into him, prepared for his speed. He was still looking at August, non-threateningly now.

  “Three is better than two.” Daniel’s lip curled in natural charm. “August, how are the Kingdom Corp. filings coming? You recall I have a friend at the SEC. I can contact him if you are in need of help….” He’d begun walking, and August, sparing a glance for me, joined him in conversation. Tristan’s shoulder tucked under Daniel’s spread hand.

  I walked to Ari and got back to my duty, Ari too relieved to have his helper back, plus some, to complain. I didn’t say goodbye as Daniel left before we boarded the children on a bus at the end. August and I waved as it pulled off. I was giggling at Tristan and Chen, blowing monkey faces on the glass from the back seat.

  August turned, serious. “Be careful, Gabrielle.”

  “Come again?” I replied. August had never given me an order. I’d never even heard that tone.

  “Tristan loves Daniel, and vice versa. A father willing to play an active and positive role in his child’s life shouldn’t be shut out. I have a better picture of him, as a person. I can forgive him for his ignorance, because he owned up to it. But you…” he said. “Be careful.”

  His eyes held no mysteries. “It’s just an arrangement.”

  “I doubt it’s an arrangement to him,” he said, turning his body to me. His leather penny loafer landing on the pavement. A city bus cruised past, blowing noxious fumes our way.

  “Well it is to me,” I said firmly, pushing back wind-whipped hair. “He’s here because I allow it. The minute I don’t, he’s out. I won’t be pushed around by him or anyone else.” Daniel had more than once insisted on contributing financially to Tristan’s upbringing until the last time I snapped. He quit bringing it up. My lines, all of them, were as absolute as death and taxes. They had to be.

  August eyed me and nodded. “That probably drives him crazy,” he said. “You’re stronger now, having been through what we have,” he said, saddened by it but proud.

  “The silver lining,” I replied, lightly sarcastic, as I smiled.

  He sighed and smiled. We walked, stepping at the same time in slow company. “I do wish you could find someone else to do this with,” August laid out his case forthright. Vi knew, too. She saw him in the elevator. She said he was s
ilent but grinned secretively as he got off on the ground floor, and she knew. August kept his hands to his sides, which meant he was somewhat tense. “Have you considered matchmaking? Solomon had success in the past.”

  I let my eyes wander the bustling street ahead, people weaving in and out from each other. “I don’t want to date.”

  “Perhaps I used the wrong word,” he said, peeking towards me. I turned to him. “Tougher is what you are.”

  “Maybe that was necessary,” I replied.

  “Be careful of that, too.”

  “The city finally got me, huh?” I replied, rhetorically.

  “It’s not that severe, I think. Whatever you choose, don’t lose yourself? Okay?” he said sincerely, trying to sound light. “You do have options.”

  I walked faster ahead and leaned on a red newspaper vending box, facing back to August. He caught up to me slowly. “August, I want to talk to you about the night at the park.” I met his eyes but blinked away. Not as tough as that.

  “What would you like to ask me, Gabrielle?” He was peaceful. His wide blue eyes awaited, pecan micro-fringe curling above and below.

  “I don’t understand,” I pinched my brow, watching cars whiz by.

  “Neither do I,” he said perplexed. “I am gay because people I have fallen in love with have been male. I have to be gay because of that. Except I’m not, I guess, am I?”

  A graphite Toyota narrowly missed being rear-ended. I watched as the lane unclogged, the graphite car guzzled past in a hail of honking. August addressed my avoidance.

  “I didn’t decide whom I’ve loved,” August began. “I haven’t made any choices about it, not since I was six years old. I didn’t choose the class jerk Miller, who made fun of my speech impediment. Marcus or Olivier or Cam. Or you.”

  “So it was real?” I asked, turning to him.

  He inhaled a regular breath. “All I can say is I know what I felt that night sitting beside you,” he replied. “That night I felt what I feel with Solomon every day.”

  I smiled. “So you are gay.” I poked him. “Go on, say it. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

  His cheekbones turned pink. He grinned. “I’m gay, Gabrielle.”

  “I have a gay best friend,” I contemplated.

  He shuddered. “My aversion to the label was promoted by the clichés. I haven’t worked my entire life to be summed up in a comment about something as unextraordinary as a fine point on who I have loved.”

  “But you did work for it, August,” I replied. He looked like he was contemplating his eulogy and how many times “gay” would overshadow something he felt he’d worked much harder for. He considered my words. “You fall in love a lot.” I scratched my heel along the ground.

  “Life hazard.”

  We walked. I watched the pedestrians ahead, not seeing them. “What does it feel like?”

  I felt him turn to me thoughtfully. “It feels like flying,” he explained.

  I made a noise of acknowledgment. At a glance to my side, August was at thirty-thousand feet.

  “I didn’t understand all these years how you escaped it. Falling in love,” he said. “I know what you have been through.”

  “It takes work to fall in love. Maybe you stress-loved me. We already had a love for each other. Respect and a foundation,” I puzzled. Answering him, I continued. “I thought I was waiting for someone to love me first. I could see what it looked like first hand,” I said. “Then it would click.” I shrugged lightly.

  August looked over at me. There was something he wanted to say but instead he replied, “I think when it happens, for you, you’re going to go first. I think you’ll have to.”

  My brow pinched again, our shoes clicking against pavement. Zack had loved me. So had August. Maybe people were like candy bars, real but different brands. Maybe we had internalized checklists instead of written ones like Violet—and we would know when we tasted it, what we’d been after. Zack’s brand was comprised of conditions. August’s brand was unconditional loyalty. I knew upon taste we weren’t the perfect ones for each other. Impossible to say with certainty whether what I was doing with Daniel was ruining my palate or improving it. I had reduced it, in my mind, to the physical act of chewing.

  I made light. “Maybe they’ll have someone nice waiting for me at the nursing home,” I replied airily and grinned. I’d be too old to chew then.

  “At the risk of sounding like your gay best friend, I suggest trying dating.” His tone was forced lightness, and when I turned to him I could see it was more than advice. He wanted me to start exercising my other options, maybe as soon as we departed.

  “I will.”

  He sighed. After a moment he said, “Gabrielle. Please don’t let me ever refer to myself that way.”

  I held out my pinkie and reluctantly, already tiring, August King, Wharton MBA, established financial big shot, joined me in a pinky promise.

  ~o~

  On a Monday, I received a text.

  D. Baird: In our time zone. Brunch?

  G: Sure. My place at ten.

  I only added the “sure” to sound less voracious. It had been almost a week. The longest since we began. I had a ton of work, but there was no way Daniel could’ve come there. We had a close call when he came in to order a new dining table. Things escalated. Claire almost walked in, so the apartment would do. I shuttled home and showered. I put on a black bra and panty set and decided it wasn’t the most desperate thing I could do to answer the door in my robe. Less to take off, more time efficient for us both, I reasoned. I really did have a lot of work to get back to.

  It was a good choice. It didn’t stay on long after Daniel surged in the door. Done, we collapsed on my bed, my breathing heavier than his. I rolled over to look at the ceiling, catching my breath. He seemed especially vital today. He also had a golden tone to his forehead and the bridge of his nose.

  “How was your trip?” I asked, as I tugged the sheet up over my breasts.

  “Successful,” Daniel asserted. “I have the company back.”

  “That’s amazing. How did you manage that?” I asked, both stumped and curious. August expressed Daniel’s situation post-departure was not ideal. August didn’t see a way for him back in and had heard no word of him accepting outside offers received or shopping himself to firms. I couldn’t even picture the latter.

  “Sophie. She wants out,” he replied in a definite tone. “I have found a fair way to compensate her. With the Barclay majority shares combined with my allied investors, Hawk remains only a speed bump.”

  “That you plan on accelerating over,” I supplied gently. He glanced at me, dangerously, but said nothing else on the subject. I’d been that speed bump. I pushed the thought away. We were in bed. This was Switzerland—our treaty was effective here.

  “Sophie…” he confided, to the ceiling. “It was a good talk.”

  “Daniel.” I bit my lip and rolled over, tucking the sheets under my chin with my hands.

  “Gabrielle?”

  “Tell me more about your mother. Fiona,” I asked carefully, squinting over towards the curve of his neck, the sun soaking his hair, igniting highlights of toffee. Before knowing, Sophie made perfect sense. Beautiful older woman, regal, distinguished. However, seeing Sophie Baird in court the day after he’d told me made me wonder how anyone bought it from the start. We believe what we are told, I guess. He looked at me strangely then seemed to relax.

  “What would you like to know?” he responded.

  “Anything,” I said and nudged slightly closer.

  He bent one arm and pushed it beneath the pillow his head lay on. “She was a wonderful cook. Very patient. She was also an excellent rider. Any horse, no matter how wild, she could break. Her father cowed them, but she won them over. My childhood hope was to be as good as her one day. Then I grew other interests.”

  “Daniel,” I said, swallowing thickly, “Tell me how she died.”

  I observed his chest rise and fall. “She died in a t
errible place. Sick and despaired.”

  “How did she get there?”

  “That was my fault,” he said bluntly. “When I shut her out, it became too much. The other staff told stories….I was away at boarding school, and when I did come home, I ignored it and her. I knew something was wrong. She became gaunt. I reasoned she was getting older. Her hair became thin…she was pulling it out. The other help told me they’d find her…” he broke off.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It can’t be helped.”

  “You’re allowed to feel, you know,” I said supportively.

  He answered shrewdly, “I’ve paid the price for that.”

  My lips pressed together. “So how did she…?”

  “A few years passed after that night I found her and my father. I returned home on a break and she was gone. She was as much a part of the house as the stone. I knew something was wrong immediately. My father told me she had fallen ill and was being treated at the finest facility. Cancer, he’d said. I forced myself not to think about it. It weighed on me. It seemed wrong somehow. The other house staff wouldn’t look me in the eye. When my father was home, they scattered like mice.

  “I thought it was over. By then I’d given up thoughts of Sophie and I becoming close like I was with Fiona. I came here to the states for university and left it all behind me. I was my own man. I had power and people obeyed. I aspired to be superior to my father. I found myself doing the things he did, only better. I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy myself.” It was an apology and a justification.

  “After my graduation at Harvard, I went back to Europe before I was set to start my MBA. In a pub in London I ran into Lloyd, our cook’s son. A drunk by then. He began cursing about my family. He said everyone knows the Baird’s are despised. He said ominously everyone knew we’d murdered her.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I hit him. He didn’t say much afterwards.” I bet not, I thought. “His accusation stuck with me. So, I returned home. Lloyd had been a troubled lad. But his mother Teresa was not one for rumors. They both adored Fiona. She was the one who’d held them all together and made things tolerable. She would plan Christmas for our employee’s children. More than once I witnessed her sneak baskets of food to the outlying cottages on the estate, occupied by families who were in our employ.” I was listening raptly, taken by this description. It must be some estate. He continued. “He never clarified the ‘her’, but I assumed. He wouldn’t have dared behave that way for anyone else. As boys, we would watch her. They all fancied her. And I was no exception,” he admitted, sounding ashamed and perplexed.