Moon Over Alcatraz

by Patricia Yager Delagrange

  Chapter 38

  On October twenty-first Cecilia gave birth to Amylynn who weighed eight pounds five ounces. She and Perry were two of the happiest people on the planet. I talked to her on the phone several times when she was in the hospital and again after she arrived home. We agreed on a day and time when she’d come by for a visit.

  The oven timer had just beeped for the blueberry muffins I was baking when the phone rang. I snatched the pot holders off the table to take them out to cool then reached for the phone.

  “Brandy? You sitting down?” Brent’s voice echoed over the phone line and I surmised he was talking on his blue-tooth, on his way to another meeting.

  I cringed inside, not knowing whether this would be good news or bad. “Why do you ask? Should I get out my box of Kleenex?”

  He made several “tsk-tsk” sounds, then chuckled. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he said then paused.

  “Do you enjoy torturing me, Brent?” My legs were twitching in anticipation of the news.

  “Nooooo,” he answered, drawing out his reply.

  I remained silent, waiting for him to end this insufferable mind game.

  “I pitched your book to my editor friend at Harper Collins—”

  “I knew you’d already done that, Brent. What did he say?”

  “Verrrry interested,” he answered, lengthening his response. “I’m not saying it’s a done deal but I’ve worked with him before—Mark Stefano. He loved it. We both agree the market is on the upswing for the women’s fiction you write, Brandy.” I could hear his smile through the phone line.

  “Thank you so much,” I yelled, realizing too late I’d probably hurt his eardrums. I lowered my voice, reining in what I termed my “yippee yappee and yahooee” factor. “Do you have any idea about the time frame—when you’ll hear back from him?”

  He laughed. I already knew what his answer would be.

  “You’ve been through this before, Brandy. It’s a waiting game. No one enjoys it, least of all the author. I’d say we should know something within the next three months. After being in this business for twenty years, the one sure thing is you have to be patient. But I was surprised to hear from Mark so quickly. I almost fell down the stairs when he called me.”

  “Fell down the stairs?” His ability to shock me with his stories never ceased. I always enjoyed his tales of working in the Big Apple.

  “I was late for a lunch date with an editor I’d been schmoozing for months when Mark called me on my cell. I was waving down a taxi and slipped on the last few stairs before I reached the curb. Practically fell flat on my face when I looked at the caller i.d. Multi-tasking can be a bitch!”

  I could hear a car horn honking in the background, then Brent’s voice shouting, “That’s my taxi, you jackass!” then dead silence. I figured our call had been dropped and surmised he’d call back if he had anything important to add to our conversation. Though I’d wanted to share with him my scheduled book signing at our local Borders after the New Year, that could wait until later. I still actively promoted my first novel, Passing Through Brandiss, and he was always interested in anything I did on a promotional basis.

  He’d told me everything I needed to know for right now and it was good news. I understood the slow process of getting a book accepted by a publisher, especially one of the “big” ones like Harper Collins. I’d just keep writing my third book—the anecdote to any worries about the future of my second novel.

  There was a knock on the front door and I ran to answer it, making sure the oven was turned off and Jessica’s cradle was still rocking in the front room.

  “Cecilia, hi! I’ve missed you sooo much.” We hugged tightly. Looking to the side, I saw the baby stroller holding Amylynn. She had beautiful thick dark hair, long eyelashes, and long arms and legs. “She’s going to be a ballerina, Cecilia, I can tell already.”

  “That’s what Perry said too. Isn’t she beautiful? Of course, what else would I say, right? But I can’t keep my eyes off her. We waited so long to finally have her, Brandy, it seems like a miracle.”

  “I know what you mean. Amylynn is a miracle baby.” I leaned over to get a better look. Her dark hair, button nose, and high cheek bones were total Cecilia. “She’s gorgeous, Cece. Come in and I’ll see if Jessica’s awake. The two of them can meet, since they’ll be best friends.”

  I picked up Jess from her cradle and Cecilia and I sat on the couch, ready to relax and have girl time.

  “Let me get us some coffee and muffins.” I placed Jessica in Cecilia’s arms, ran into the kitchen, and was back in moments.

  Placing the coffee cups and a plate of muffins on the table, I took Jessica and sat in a chair across from Cecilia. “How’s Amylynn doing? Perry told me she nursed right away. You’re so lucky!”

  “The nurses told me that as well. Oh, Brandy, she’s such a good baby. She wakes up twice during the night to nurse, eats ravenously for maybe five to ten minutes then falls asleep in her cradle next to my side of the bed. We bought one just like yours, the kind that rocks on its own. I love it.”

  I paused to take a bite of muffin and a sip of coffee. “Have you made plans for the holidays?”

  “Perry and I were just talking about that. We’d like to have a Christmas party but our house isn’t—”

  “Let’s have it here,” I interrupted.

  “Really?” She smiled, then picked up Amylynn. “Time for her feeding.” She picked up the bottom of her shirt, nestling her daughter against her breast. “Perry insists on inviting Weston,” she added, reaching across and snagging a muffin, then taking a bite.

  “Fine with me. The two guys are best friends.”

  “What about Edward? Are you planning to invite him?”

  “Seems sort of childish not to. I think we can put aside our feelings for one night of holiday cheer.”

  “You’ll ask him then?” She snuggled back against the pillows with her coffee cup in her hand.

  “We’re going on a date tomorrow night. I’ll tell him about it and let him make up his own mind whether he wants to come to the party or not.”

  “Call me and tell me what he says, okay?”

  I looked across at her and grinned. Sitting in the front room with my best friend while she nursed her baby, sharing stories about Jessica’s father—I felt content. My life was full. I had my health, my child was healthy, I had an editor at Harper Collins who might be interested in my second book, and tomorrow night I had a date. Life was good.

  Chapter 39

  The following evening I paid particular attention to my make-up and hair, which was longer and fuller than it had been in years, falling to the middle of my back, the soft auburn waves lustrous and shiny. I dressed in a short hunter-green velvet dress, its bodice cut low in the front, paired with five-inch black open-toed heels, and a black velvet purse.

  Turning to the side to look in the mirror before Edward arrived, I patted my stomach. I had lost the weight I’d gained during my pregnancy and was down to my normal one hundred and twenty-five pounds. The doorbell rang and I hurried to splash my favorite perfume behind my ears and along my wrists. He’d made reservations and I didn’t want to be late.

  He stood at the bottom of the stairs, talking with Stephanie who was holding Jessica. When he looked up and saw me carefully negotiating the steps, he gave a low whistle of praise. “You look gorgeous, Brandy. And it’s only been, what, five months since you had Jessica? Man, oh man, you are a beauty.”

  I faked a Southern accent and replied, “Why, Edward, I do dee-claruh, you’re making me blush, dahlin!”

  He laughed, Stephanie laughed, and then so did I. I was unaccustomed to all this attention, though it felt good to be dressed up, wearing make-up, and a pretty outfit with heels. We got in the Porsche and drove toward L’Orangerie; however, he didn’t turn at Park Street. Instead he sped down several extra blocks to San Antonio Boulevard.

  I glanced over at him, confused.

  “You recognize this place don�
��t you?” he asked.

  “What’s going on? I thought we were eating at L’Orangerie?”

  “We were. But yesterday I thought, Hey, I’m a great cook, I’ll fix you dinner at my place. We’ll have a quiet evening alone, no distractions. And we’ll be able to talk. No interruptions from other people or waiters or anything. Are you okay with that?”

  I paused, thinking. “That sounds wonderful.”

  We walked up the pathway leading to the front door and, just as I stepped over the threshold, I noticed candles glowing on the dining room table, set with crystal glasses, china plates, cloth napkins, and a vase at the end filled with yellow roses. No restaurant could have looked so romantic and inviting.

  Guiding me gently toward the table, he pulled out a chair. “Dinner’s ready. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  When he returned, he placed a wooden bowl on the table filled with mixed lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and radishes, accompanied by heated sourdough bread and butter, thin slices of chicken for him, various sliced cheeses for me, white wine for him, a Coke for me.

  “This looks delicious,” I said. “I’m still nursing Jessica and I get ravenous at dinner time.”

  “Good. I’m glad you aren’t disappointed I brought you home with me instead of eating at the restaurant.”

  I looked up in surprise. “You’ve never disappointed me, Edward. You continually amaze me with the things you say and do.”

  He looked down at his plate and I caught a glimpse of a grin on his face. “Aw, shucks, Mrs. Chambers, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “Can you ever be serious? I’m trying to give you a compliment and you joke around.”

  He placed a hand on my forearm and our eyes met. “Sorry, Brandy. I guess my automatic response is to crack a joke, make people laugh. Forgive me for being insensitive.”

  “You’re forgiven. Now, can I eat?”

  He nodded. “Of course. In fact, let me serve you.”

  He stood and dished up an array of fresh greenery onto my plate along with thin slices of cheese, placed a piece of steaming French bread on the side dish, then poured my Coke over chunks of ice in a crystal goblet.

  I waited for him to serve himself, savoring the sight of a meal I didn’t have to prepare. Relaxed, I let the quiet and silence of his home envelop me. There weren’t a lot of cars in Alameda, the population being around seventy thousand people, so the typical traffic of a big city was pleasantly absent.

  “How’s the murder case coming? I know you’re working long hours.”

  He let out a big sigh. “Man, this one’s big. There hasn’t been a case like it in Alameda since 1972. Selecting a jury was a bitch. Initially I requested a change of venue, to L.A., but the judge would have none of it. So my client will be tried in Alameda by Alamedans and people from the surrounding area. Everyone for miles around has heard about it. But, as I told you before, the prosecution doesn’t have anything to hang their hats on anyway. They’re gonna lose and they know it.”

  “What makes you think he’s guilty?” I asked, anxious to know how someone could figure out the mind of a murderer.

  “I don’t think he’s guilty. I know he’s guilty.” He patted his mid-section with the palm of his hand. “I can feel it in my gut. Some of the things he’s told me, the way he acts when we talk about the day of the murder. I can’t reveal any more, but suffice it to say, the guy’s guilty of murdering the little girl. He knows it and he knows I know it.” Then he shrugged. “My job’s still the same, to prove he’s innocent.”

  “This must be horrible for you, knowing he killed that child,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I believe in the law. For years I’ve dedicated my life to learning the law, studying the law. It’s in my blood, in my soul. It’s what makes this country what it is today. The guy’s innocent until they prove him guilty and unfortunately that’s not gonna happen in this case.”

  After dinner, he led me to the front room while he cleaned up and made us fresh cups of coffee. When he returned, he lit a fire in the fireplace and we sat on the couch together, watching the flames flicker and sputter behind the fire screen.

  “You said you wouldn’t make up your mind about Weston moving back home until you and I could spend time together. Dumb question number one—are you leaning more toward him or me?”

  I shifted toward him. “Edward, this is our time together, just you and me. It’s not about Weston and me. I don’t feel comfortable answering that question right now.” I turned to face the fireplace, leaning back into the pillows, and he placed his arm around my shoulders.

  “Can you at least answer me one question?” I glanced over at him. “Am I still in the running?”

  “Do me a favor, will you?”

  “What’s that?” he whispered.

  “Shut up and make love to me.”

  Chapter 40

  The look on his face was priceless. I saw surprise, disbelief, quickly replaced with a huge smile. “You do recognize where we’re sitting right now, don’t you?” he asked.

  “It’s our couch,” I replied. “The one we were lying on when you impregnated me.”

  “Oh, that’s sooo romantic, Brandy. Why don’t we change venues? Or do you prefer the memories attached to this piece of furniture?”

  I patted the cushion. “I’m kind of fond of this thing.” I lay back on the pillows and opened my arms, inviting him to join me. “Come here,” I said sweetly.

  Holding up a finger indicating ‘just a second’, he said, “I’ve got a better idea.”

  He turned around and shut off the lights, leaving us with only the tranquil glow of the embers in the fireplace. The rest of the house was steeped in darkness, giving me the feeling we were in our own little world. We could do whatever we wanted, we had no one to answer to—no children, no phone calls, no one but us.

  He walked back to the couch, leaned over, and tucked me in his arms then laid me down carefully on the thick Persian rug in front of the fire place. Slowly, he began removing his shirt, then shoes, socks, and finally his pants. I’d never seen a man undress in the glow of firelight—like having a private viewing of a male stripper.

  His body was perfectly sculpted, all the muscles flexed and firm in all the right places. After kneeling next to me, he slid my dress off my shoulders, down my thighs and calves, and threw it aside, leaving me with my black thong, thigh-high nylons and heels. He leaned back, taking in every inch of my body, his eyes roaming from my feet up to my thong, to my breasts.

  I sat up slowly, tucking my fingers over the sides of his briefs, pulling them gently down over his hardened member. I lay back, awaiting his touch, anticipating the feel of his hands on my body, needing his mouth to cover my lips with kisses, desire welling in my groin at the thought this man would give me the orgasm I wanted so badly.

  He straddled me, one knee on each side of me. “What’s wrong, Brandy? Are you afraid you’re doing the wrong thing here, being with me?”

  “That’s not it at all. I’m doing exactly what I want, right here, right now, with you. It’s just…it’s been a while since we’ve, you know, had sex, and you—”

  “We’ll go slow, Brandy. Very, very slow. By the time I’m through with you, you won’t feel anything but good, I promise. God, I love you.”

  Hearing his words, seeing him hovering over me in all his muscular beauty, I trusted him to take care of me, not only my body but my mind. He always made me feel so wanted, so needed, so intelligent, such a good mother and person. I closed my eyes and let him transport me to all the places he wanted, opening my body to his ministrations.

  He was right. By the time he entered me, I was begging him to end my wanting him so badly. Placing my hands on each side of his waist, I pushed him deeper inside me. With each thrust I forced him in further, until he groaned, pleading me to stop, so I ceased urging him on, wanting us to have our orgasms at the same time. I finally gave in to my own pulsing waves of sweetness, signaling Edward it was his turn. Bucking and moani
ng, I could feel the surge of his ejaculation inside me.

  Saturated with sweat, my skin glistened in the firelight. With Edward lying on top of me, I felt sated, pleasure seeping from every pore of my body. Sweat dripped from his chin onto my neck, and he turned on his side, allowing my body the freedom to bask in the firelight.

  “That was more than great sex, Brandy.”

  “There are no words to describe how you make me feel. I felt like I travelled to another place, another time. I love you so much, Edward.”

  He sat up, gazing down at me lying in front of the fireplace. “Are those the same words you said to your husband?”

  “Actually, no, I didn’t. And tonight’s been so special for me.” I turned away from him, facing the flaming logs, watching them flicker and burn.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just my jealousy rearing its ugly head, I guess.”

  He gently rolled me over to face him and kissed me generously and slowly. By the time he leaned back, I was out of breath. He rested his head on his hand and gazed intently into the flames.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Do you really want to know?” I nodded. “About how much I love Jessica. Everything about her makes me feel, I don’t know what you’d call it—awed, thankful, in love? I look at her and I can’t believe she’s my daughter. Is that how you feel?”

  “Yeah. There’s something humbling or just plain unbelievable about giving birth, bringing a new life into the world. It was a miracle. One minute my child’s inside my body moving around, the next minute, she’s in our world. And she wouldn’t be here without you.”

  His eyes focused intently on the flames, still spinning and leaping toward the chimney. “Blows my mind. If anything ever happened to her, I’d feel like killing myself. Is that weird?”

  “No, it’s not. There’s a force inside me that’s so strong, if she’s sick and I’m worried about her, something just takes over me, like a bolt of electricity running through every vein in my body. They talk about being a mother bear with her cubs?” I laughed. “It’s true.”