by Liz Lee
Kacie Jo turned on her side and pulled Donovan’s arms around her. She didn’t know what she’d expected, what she’d envisioned.
She’d heard all about the first time from her friends over the years, and she felt sure this was better than normal, but there was this feeling, this something she couldn’t identify.
She’d never felt closer to a person in her life and she’d never be sorry she waited, never be sorry for this morning with Donovan.
He still hadn’t said a word, and she was surprised. He’d definitely been shocked, and she couldn’t blame him. A part of her said she should have told him earlier, but she’d been afraid he wouldn’t stay, that he’d change his mind and leave and she’d never see him again.
The way he kept running his hand up and down her arm was driving her crazy. Little shocks of pleasure shot from his fingers to the core of her being.
She wanted him to say something.
When his fingers trailed over her nipple, she gasped out loud. And when his hand ran over her stomach, she had to bite her lips to keep from whimpering.
She wasn’t sure what he’d think, but she definitely didn’t want him to believe she was disappointed because she absolutely wasn’t.
He ran his fingers over her stomach again and this time they trailed even lower, barely brushing the top of her thigh.
Oh God. He was doing this on purpose. Some kind of punishment for throwing that big virgin surprise on him like that, no warning or anything.
And then, suddenly, his hand was gently massaging her stomach, her legs, until finally, his fingers found her center. And then slowly, too slowly, he slipped a finger between her folds.
She couldn’t stop the gasp that followed. This felt so good.
When he did the same thing again, she heard her voice, heard his name, heard him laugh in response.
He thought this was funny? She’d have to take that up with him later. But as his fingers found the spot that left her breathless and almost begging, she didn’t much care what he did or said.
All she cared about was finding where these waves of sensation took her. And then, everything ceased to matter except the steady, soft feeling of his fingers as they moved on her in perfect tempo to her heartbeat.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t even think about anything. She wanted, she wanted…
Finally, sensation washed over her in wave after wave. Her legs trembled along with the rest of her body, and when she could finally speak, she closed her eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”
Donovan brushed a finger down her cheek. “Thank you.” His deep words rumbled over her entire body. She wished they could stay just like this. She turned and settled into the perfect crook of his bent elbow, still not believing she was lying in bed naked next to a naked Donovan.
“You could have told me.”
His words were still whispered as if he didn’t want to break this secret spell either.
“If I had, would you be here?”
He laughed softly to himself. “Probably not.”
“Then I’m not going to apologize.”
This time his laugh wasn’t soft. “I could definitely get used to this.”
Kacie Jo didn’t even think about her answer. “Do then.” He tensed beside her, and she wished she’d just stayed silent. “I’m not asking for anything here, Donovan.”
He didn’t say a word, just kept brushing his hand over her arm, driving her crazy with this new need that was worse now than ever before.
Deciding conversation was better left until a later date, she curled up against his side and concentrated on remembering this very moment. The way he felt, the way he smelled.
And then Donovan was there, moving over her, the laughter from earlier back as he trailed kisses down her body. “Judging by the size of that condom box, you planned for a long night. Ready for lesson number three?”
Oh, she’d planned all right. Kacie Jo didn’t even think about it, didn’t try to figure out the math, just smiled in an open invitation and sighed. “Absolutely.”
Donovan shrugged back into his shirt as Kacie Jo slept. They’d spent the entire day in bed. He couldn’t say he was sorry. But he knew that even though she said she wasn’t asking for anything, she was. Women like her didn’t hold on to their virginity and then just give it away for nothing.
She deserved someone who could give her what she wanted and needed. That someone was not him. He wasn’t the staying kind. Forever wasn’t even in his vocabulary.
He hoped she didn’t hold this day against him. God knew he’d treasure it for the rest of his life.
As he walked silently down the hall, he spied her teacher of the year plaque and straightened it for her.
For a second, he stood there, silently, forcing himself to imprint this moment on his memory. When he left here, it would be for good. He’d have to grab his bags from Grady’s, and Grady was no fool. This day had accomplished what he’d been trying to do for months.
When he walked out the door this time, it would close the Caldale chapter of his life.
Funny how something so new could be so enticing. Kacie Jo was like a drug. Completely intoxicating, totally addictive from the very first taste. Unfortunately, he was the dangerous one. If he stayed, he’d destroy her.
He was pretty damn good at destruction. About as good as he was at leaving. He still couldn’t believe he’d talked to her about B’en Ai. About the Middle Eastern island kingdom. But he hadn’t told her about the war, not really. And he hadn’t told her how he’d been too late to save another innocent woman. This one a princess, but no less innocent than Kacie Jo. No less special.
The difference was he’d tried to stay in B’en Ai until it was too late.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Slowly, he closed the door behind him, saying a silent goodbye before he walked down the street on his way out of Caldale, Texas for the last time.
Chapter Six
Kacie Jo sat in the teacher’s lounge, laid her head on the table and closed her eyes trying to get rid of the nagging headache she’d sported since the principal had broken the news that her program budget was cut.
She tried not to close her eyes often if she could help it. Every time she did, she found herself remembering the ghost of a morning with Donovan.
No one knew where he’d disappeared to. Grady didn’t talk about Donovan at all other than to say he was back to his normal ways.
Well, she’d always known he would leave again. He’d never lied, never pretended to be something other than what he was.
All she had to remember that night was the black lace veil that currently sat atop her dresser in her room. Every time she looked at it, she remembered the way his lips had trailed down her neck to…
Oh God! She was such a fool. She talked about actions and reactions and consequences every day. She force-fed the story to her students every chance she got. Now she was suffering her own set of consequences. She worked herself to pure exhaustion so she could simply fall into bed once she made it home.
The only person complaining had been Eliza, but even she seemed to understand.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Kacie Jo heard a bell ring, but she couldn’t force her eyes to open. She wanted to stay in this peaceful silence a few more minutes. If that stupid bell would quit ringing, maybe she’d get some real rest.
After a few seconds, the bell finally did stop and she smiled at the quiet moment. At least she smiled until a hand shook her shoulder and a voice sounded from far away. “Kacie Jo, wake up. Kacie Jo are you okay?”
“What?” Kacie Jo’s head shot up from the table and she looked around to see where she was.
For a few disoriented seconds she thought she was back home, but then she saw she was still in the lounge, her water bottle and uneaten lunch sitting on the table. The new math teacher, Kacie Jo couldn’t remember her name for the life of her, stood there looking concerned.
“Are you
okay?” she asked again.
Kacie Jo blinked once, then twice and shook her head. Oh yeah, Louise. The teacher’s name was Louise Fairbanks and she liked to dye her hair different colors every three months, and she hated high school football, and Kacie Jo bet a million dollars the board wasn’t cutting her classes next year.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” As she spoke the words, Kacie Jo couldn’t be sure. Her throat dried up and her mouth tasted the way burnt paper smelled.
Louise didn’t look convinced. “Your class asked me to check on you. They’re working on their essays, and they figured you’d be there in a minute, but they asked if I’d make sure.”
“Oh crap!” Kacie Jo shoved her lunch into the bag and tossed the bag into the trash. “I slept right through the stupid bell. What was I thinking?"
Louise stood in the doorway, an unsure frown on her face. “I can watch your kids for a few minutes if you need me to, or I can see if a sub can cover if you need to go home.”
Kacie Jo shook her head, embarrassed. Home was the last place she needed to go. Work, work was her salvation.
“No. I’ll be fine.” But even as she said the words, she worried. Judging by the look on the new teacher's face she wasn't the only one unsure.
Donovan slammed the tequila shot, embracing its citrusy burn, then ordered another from the bartender. His only friend.
“José, my man, why don’t you hand me the whole dang bottle. Don’t bother with the lime. I’ll drink it straight.”
The bartender did as he asked with a silent frown and Donovan slid a wrinkled US $100 bill toward the man and poured himself another round.
José looked around the room as if expecting someone to take the bill away. The someone scooped the money away and frowned with consternation and concern.
The someone was José’s wife, Carlita. “If you’re wanting to get yourself killed, I can think of some better ways to make it happen,” she said in a tone that told him she was serious.
Donovan paused before downing the third shot. Suicide hadn’t been his intent, but maybe the lady was on to something.
Carlita and José had ushered him to his room on three occasions this week already. Not a problem since the bar and hotel were the same establishment, and he seemed to be the only occupant these days.
Out of all the places in the world he could’ve run to, he’d chosen Juarez, Mexico. Drug wars, gang fights, the missing person capitol of the universe. The place more reporters died than any other.
But he wasn’t a reporter any more. He wasn’t searching for a story. Or righting a wrong. He was Donovan Nelson. A sorry assed excuse for a human being.
He gulped the next shot and set the bottle down on the bar as the room’s edges finally started to soften, as his nerves loosened. The tightrope feeling of barely hanging on became something a little more elastic.
Through the static on the TV screen above José’s head, Donovan could make out the images of a soccer game. News reports ran across the bottom of the screen. Something about a drone accident in Afghanistan caught his attention and everything he’d run from barreled back across his mind. Anaj’s forgiving eyes blended into Kacie Jo’s welcoming arms, and he threw the shot glass across the room where it shattered. He started to drink directly from the bottle instead, but before he could, José’s wife Carlita was there her hand on his, stopping him.
Carlita’s size made him think of a mama chihuahua, but her ferocity was more pitbull. “You want to make a mess, you go to your room. Drown your sorrows, chase your demons, do whatever it is you need to do. But you don’t do it here.”
Guilt hit Donovan at her words, and he let her take the bottle. Tried to make amends.
“I’m sorry, Carlita. Get me the broom. I’ll clean it up. Hell, get me the mop and I’ll scrub the whole place.” He reached for his wallet, pulled out two more hundreds, tried to hand them to her. “Take this. It ought to make up for the mess.”
She pushed his hand away and nodded toward José before sitting across from him. The two seemed to have one of those silent conversations that meant something bad for the person not in on the story. Once upon a time Donovan had been an expert silent convo decipherer. His boss said he was better at figuring out what hadn’t been said than any other reporter on the front lines. Back when there were front lines.
Donovan tightened his hand on the edge of the bar and he told himself not to lose it. Not yet.
Thankfully, Carlita’s voice anchored him in the present. “You want to be throwing money away, you ought to make it count for something other than a hangover. I know just the thing to help you.”
Behind them José told Carlita to leave him alone, to let him drink his misery away, but Carlita refused.
“You owe me for this last week of hauling you up to your room like an old drunk. Come on. We’re going.”
Curiosity warred with a desire to lose himself in the haze of alcohol induced apathy. Curiosity won. He saluted toward the grumbling José, then squinted his eyes as he followed Carlita walked out into the sunlight and into the alley behind the bar.
He halfway expected to get jumped, but no one seemed surprised by the sight of a disheveled, half drunk man following the slightly round, middle aged, dress-wearing Carlita Sanchez. She carried a flyswatter in one hand and a large stick in the other. He figured both were for him if he got out of line.
“Miss Carlita, you want to tell me where we’re going?”
“No,” she said and kept on walking.
Interesting. He followed her around a corner and down another alley, past dogs and men sitting on door stoops and kids running around in bare feet and ragged clothes. The scene felt eerily familiar, and Donovan wished he’d grabbed the bottle to bring with because the tightrope in his chest was back.
And then they were standing in front of a ramshackle house that looked much like the other ramshackle houses on the street. Except this one had been added onto more than once and not to any building code specification. A handful of kids were playing in the dirt packed yard and he could see the brown sandaled feet of a woman as she hung sheets on a line to dry.
“My sister Maria could use your help. You work days, you drink nights. No complaints from me or José unless you turn destructive. You do that, we call the police. Got it?”
Panic sliced through him. “Carlita, I’m not....”
She pushed him forward without waiting to hear his refusal.
“Maria, I brought you someone.”
The woman who peered around the sheet met his eyes and frowned. Her silver hair and deeply lined face spoke of a long, hard life. But her smile spoke of peace made with the road she’d chosen. At least it did until she deciphered her sister’s intent. Maria didn’t hide her frown as she looked him up and down and found him wanting.
She clipped the sheet to the line, brushed her hands on a red floral dress, then walked forward to meet him and, he figured, to tell her sister she was crazy.
Instead she clasped his hand in hers and spoke in Spanish so fast he almost couldn’t keep up.
“Thank God you are here. Our fence is down and the guard warned me if I didn’t fix it, I would have to send the babies away. They have nowhere to go. You are a lifesaver.”
Funny.
Donovan knew he resembled a drunk bum and smelled like one too, but the woman speaking to him treated him like a Messiah. As her hand enveloped his, something in him shifted.
“I don’t work with kids,” he said. He’d do whatever she needed, but she had to understand. He didn’t trust himself to be around children. Not now. Not since...he pushed the memories away.
She waved away his words. “Not to worry. They’ll be back in school when you fix our fence.”
He turned to Carlita. “I work days and drink nights. That’s our deal, right?”
Carlita held out her hand. “Deal.”
Definitely doable.
A few hours later the heat of the Juarez sun beat down on Donovan’s head. He pulled a nail fr
om a coffee can and focused on not hammering his thumb as he attempted to construct a new fence around old posts still standing.
So far he’d discovered Maria ran an orphanage for neighborhood children. It started with one child and nightly meals, turned into meals and place to sleep, then the child brought another and another. Now twenty children from five to fourteen lived in the house with Maria. She fed them, clothed them, sent them to school, gave them a safer place than the streets.
A week ago someone had knocked down the fence around her property and now a government official wanted the fence up or the the youngest of the children gone. The official left the name of the company Maria should use to construct the fence with his warning. On the surface it looked like a concerned man keeping children safe. In reality, the official took kickbacks from the company and did who knew what with the children. Government corruption at its finest. He burned to write about it. Force the people back home to see the disaster these children teetered on the edge of daily. But he knew the truth. The people back home didn’t care and his stories wouldn’t change anything, and so he’d just nail one post after another after another until the damn fence was done. And he’d go back to the hotel at nights and drink away the uselessness of it all.
He wiped a bit of salty sweat from his eyes and started to hammer again but a voice stopped him. “You’re doing it wrong.”
The little girl was maybe seven and she seemed to be the leader of a small group of even younger children, one of whom kept his thumb in his mouth as he stared at Donovan like he was some sort of devil.
“I probably am,” he acknowledged with a sigh.
“If you don’t hold the nail straight it will bend when you hit it, and then it won’t go in right and it will rip our clothes like this.” She held out her what used to be white Madonna t-shirt to show him the long rip across the bottom.
“You should come play with us instead,” she said.
Donovan searched the yard for salvation, but it was empty except for the chickens running around in the dirt and the sheets blowing in the wind. No kids. He’d made that clear.