Gateway to Heaven

by BETH KERY

  It was crucial information if they should ever make love.

  But he also admitted it was also one of the most erotic, singular experiences he’d ever had in his life to listen to this shy, unique woman conquer her fears with desire and speak to him so bravely and openly.

  He watched her bite her full, dark pink lower lip nervously. He suspected he might be panting. He hoped Megan didn’t notice.

  “I’m sure it won’t be that exciting to you,” she said hesitantly.

  Trust me, I’ll think it’s exciting.

  “I want to know what you think is exciting,” he said out loud.

  “I-I think of you touching and kissing my breasts,” she whispered shakily.

  Christian nodded reassuringly.

  “…and…and uh…sucking on them, too. I liked that.”

  He grunted with profound agreement.

  “I think of your weight on top of me, having you inside of me…”

  “Uh huh,” Christian encouraged when she trailed off, hanging on her every syllable.

  “Filling me up,” Megan finished.

  “Okay,” Christian scraped out after a tension-filled pause.

  “And you’re sort of, whispering to me, talking to me while you’re…moving inside of me.” She misunderstood his glazed expression and thought he hadn’t understood. “Like you do sometimes when you kiss me, when you tell me how I feel to you, when you say what you’d like to be doing to me.”

  “You like it when I talk to you that way?”

  “I love it,” she blurted out.

  “Christ, Megan—”

  “What the hell kept you two so long?” Seth interrupted drolly.

  Christian gave a low growl of profound frustration when Megan started and stood up abruptly. He leaned over and rested his forehead in his palm, vaguely aware of the three others greeting one another. He pulled his keys from the front pocket of his jeans and asked Megan to show everyone to the car.

  “Pick me up at the valet in a few minutes,” he directed her when Megan took the keys.

  “Why aren’t you coming?” Megan asked, confused.

  Seth laughed. “Come on, Megan. He’ll be good as new in a minute or two.”

  “Serves you right, too, for interrupting us earlier,” Seth said in a low voice when Sarah and Megan began to walk away through the lobby. When Christian scowled at him, Seth added with malicious amusement, “Just think really cold thoughts, Chris.”

  Chapter 8

  Megan was charmed by Christian’s family. The realization made her feel a little guilty, because in many ways the Lashers were polar opposites of her own family. They were boisterous, fun-loving and completely unrestrained in both stating their opinions and demonstrating their affections.

  Christian had received his height, strength and good looks from his father, James. She sensed that he’d inherited the same man’s tendency for thoughtful observance, introspection, and flashes of wry humor. His mother, Caroline, had gifted him with her boundless energy, her love of the arts, and of course, her brilliant blue eyes.

  Megan learned from James Lasher, during a tour of the house, that he’d run his own construction firm for thirty plus years, specializing in the restoration of historic buildings. Although he’d labored on and loved some of the most beautiful old homes in Chicago, Oak Park, and several north shore suburbs, he’d never had the financial means to buy one. When Christian became successful with his band years back, he’d insisted his parents share in his wealth. At first they’d refused, but Christian had badgered them until they’d folded, James told her with a wry grin. Only because it had always been his dream, and only because Christian and he had worked out a viable loan agreement, had James finally accepted enough money from Christian to buy his and Caroline’s home in Evanston.

  It was a meticulously restored turn of the century, classical brick structure that was officially listed on the National Register of Historic Preservation of Homes. The grounds were huge and landscaped lovingly with Caroline and James’ own hands, with assistance from Mary, Christian’s younger sister. The interiors were gracious and warm, filled with peaceful colors and the artwork that Caroline had managed to save for over the years, in addition to some valuable pieces gifted to her by Christian.

  She was a little humbled at the warmth and graciousness the Lashers extended toward her as they welcomed her into their home. Caroline served a delicious barbecue dinner with all the trimmings, including homemade ice cream for dessert, out on the stone terrace that faced the backyard. Afterwards, Seth, Christian, Katie’s husband Steve and Eric, Katie’s eight-year-old, started playing a rowdy, and at times hotly contested game of touch football in the backyard. Sarah and Mary, Christian’s outspoken, beautiful younger sister, chatted together amiably, occasionally breaking into laughter as they watched the antics of the football game, while Megan talked to Katie in hushed tones, because her two-year-old son, Nicholas, had fallen asleep in his mother’s lap.

  “Do you do any type of art, other than sculpture?” Christian’s older sister asked her as dusk settled around them and the outdoor lights switched on.

  “I draw and paint,” Megan replied.

  “I’m so envious. I always wanted to draw. Now that I have the boys, I’ve often thought how nice it would be to be able to have a sketching of them at different ages.”

  “Would you like me to sketch Nicholas right now?” Megan asked.

  Katie made a face. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just running off at the mouth.”

  Megan laughed quietly. “I’d like to, if you would let me. He’s a beautiful little boy, and we’ll never get a better time than right now.” She nodded to the tow-headed child who was deeply asleep.

  Christian’s mother bustled into the house at Katie’s request and provided Megan with supplies. Megan continued to converse with Katie softly even as her hand moved over the page. A call from the football game caused loud controversy, and she glanced up from her sketch in amusement.

  “You saw that, didn’t you, Megan?” Christian yelled across the yard.

  She proclaimed her ignorance gladly. Mary wasn’t shy about making the call. “You clobbered him, Seth. Ten yards to Chris and Eric,” she shouted.

  The game resumed after a fist pump of camaraderie between Christian and his nephew and grumbling from Seth and Steve. Megan glanced up on the terrace and saw Caroline standing in James Lasher’s arms. They stood silently and watched the people they loved most in the world. Megan was touched by the sense of happiness and contentment that seemed to radiate from the couple.

  Katie noticed where Megan was looking. “They’re still crazy about each other,” she said, referring to her parents.

  “It’s wonderful,” Megan said before she began sketching again.

  “Are your own parents close?”

  “My father passed away ten years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  For a few seconds neither woman spoke.

  “They weren’t that close, though, when my dad was alive. My sister says that they used to be, once. A long time ago,” Megan said after a pause.

  Katie sighed. “Alienation between parents is always difficult on the children. Did you…blame yourself?” When Megan glanced up at her sharply, Katie added. “I only ask because I’ve heard it’s a fairly common phenomenon. For the child to internalize a vague feeling of guilt about their parents’ relational discord.”

  “I suppose I did a little.”

  Megan resumed sketching thoughtfully. She realized for the first time in her life that she hadn’t felt a vague guilt about her parents’ strained relationship. She felt solely responsible for it. Even as the emotional impact of the realization hit her, so did its rational counterpart.

  How could she—a small child not much older than the toddler sleeping in Katie’s lap—have been the cause of her parents’ unhappiness? There had been reasons enough, but Megan herself wasn’t one of them.

  Twenty minut
es later, as the football game was breaking up, Megan revealed the completed sketch. Katie gasped in amazement and pleasure. “Oh, it’s beautiful. And you put me in it, too. I didn’t know you were doing that.”

  Megan smiled. “That was what was so beautiful—your symbiosis together, mother and child. You and Nicholas were wonderful subjects.” Katie continued to study the pencil sketch with so much concentration that she didn’t notice a lone tear fall down her cheek.

  Megan felt like she’d been given a sixth sense when it came to her awareness of Christian, so she wasn’t surprised to see him leaning over his sister’s shoulder and examining the sketch a moment later.

  When he looked at Megan, his eyes seemed to glow with unspoken emotion. Without saying a word he came over to her and softly kissed her cheek, his lips lingering against her skin, before he walked toward the house.

  Later that evening, Caroline Lasher pulled Megan aside. “Christian tells me that you’d like to learn how to play the piano. Why don’t you let me teach you?”

  Megan’s mouth fell open in surprise at the unexpected, generous offer. “He told you that? I can’t believe…that is, thank you. Thank you so much for the thought. It was just something I told him in passing, really.”

  Caroline’s blue eyes widened. “You mean you don’t want to learn?”

  “I’d love to,” Megan gushed. “I like to work with my hands. To think, that it’s possible to make such beautiful music with them—“

  “Then it’s settled. Do you have time to devote a few hours a week to it?”

  Megan shook her head and laughed. “I don’t know, Caroline. It’s an awful lot to ask of you.”

  Caroline patted her hand and took it in her own. “I want to do it. I want to repay you for that beautiful drawing you did of Katie and Nicholas. It’s was very kind, and don’t think I don’t know how good it is.”

  “It was nothing, Caroline, really—“

  Caroline stilled Megan’s protest with a shake of her head. “I already teach a student at The Harold Washington Library, right downtown, on Sunday mornings. They have pianos there, and private classrooms for instruction. Do you think you could come then?”

  “I don’t know what to say…”

  “Say yes,” Caroline encouraged with a warm twinkle in her eye. “I have my selfish reasons for wanting to do it. Christian hasn’t brought home a woman in a long time, not since Cecilia. It does my heart good to see him so happy. I tell you, there were times after she…suffice it to say that I wondered sometimes, as a mother, if Christian would ever pull out of it okay. But enough of that; what about the lessons? I’d value the opportunity to get to know you better.”

  Megan was speechless. Who was Cecilia? And what had Christian been so depressed about in regard to her? Then she recalled their conversation about the woman who had believed the tabloid story about him being unfaithful to her. So Cecilia was the woman who had the power to make Christian look so miserable. She didn’t want Caroline to assume that she and Christian were in a similar relationship. What if Christian didn’t want to see her anymore and Caroline was left in the uncomfortable position of tutoring one of his ex-girlfriends?

  And yet, part of her was tempted to accept the offer. How had Christian guessed that it had always been a desire so close to her heart to learn how to play? And Caroline was such a kind, generous woman. Megan had felt comfortable with her immediately.

  “Would you say yes if I allowed you to pay a portion of what my students usually pay me? I won’t take much, mind you. That would defeat the purpose of me doing it as a thank-you and as a favor to Christian,” Caroline said, accurately guessing one of the reasons for Megan’s hesitation.

  “A favor to Christian?” Megan asked sharply. “He asked you to give me lessons?”

  “He knows who the best teacher is, that’s all,” Caroline said.

  She smiled. “He told me that you were a taskmaster.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “When you have a task like Christian at age seven, you’d better be master of it or he’d roll right over you.” She laughed as she tried to imagine Christian at that age. “Does that mean yes?” Caroline asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

  Megan nodded.

  * * * *

  As Megan, Christian, Seth, and Sarah were saying their thanks and drawn out goodbyes, Katie asked Christian if she could speak with him briefly. His sister led him into their parents’ large, comfortable kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?” Christian wondered when he saw Katie’s indecisive look.

  “Chris, do you really know what you’re doing when it comes to Megan?” When Katie saw his sudden guarded expression, she tried to explain.

  “Look, when you asked the family not to allude to the fact that we knew about Megan’s history, I’m not sure if you knew what you were really asking. Mom and Dad remember the Nightingale incident—there are few parents who lived in the neighborhood at the time that wouldn’t. You were young, and it must have only skimmed your consciousness. But I was in the same grade as Hilary Shreve. Such a reprehensible crime occurring right there in our parish—I can tell you that it deeply affected me, just as it did most people. It made me question everything I had formerly assumed about the inviolate nature of the little world I inhabited in St. Cat’s Parish. Father Gregory was shaken to the bone. It seemed like he went gray overnight. Another of Nightingale’s victims came from a family that belonged to the church—the McCarthys. They moved from Chicago after Nightingale’s trial was over.

  “What a media circus that was,” Katie continued, her eyes clouded with the memories. “I don’t have to elaborate on the press’s impact to you of all people. I can only imagine how it affected Hilary Shreve. She was such a popular girl, so effervescent. After what happened to Megan, she changed. She became harder, more of a loner. I can’t say that I blame her. A lot of kids began to shun her, probably because they were too uncomfortable with their own fears and anxieties to know what to say to her.”

  Christian waited when Katie paused. Sorrow settled like lead in his chest when he considered how such a tiny, innocent girl had come to represent a whole community’s doubts, fears, and regrets.

  “Megan is very special. She has such a…calming effect, doesn’t she?” Katie asked wistfully after a moment.

  When Christian nodded, Katie met his eyes soberly. “Maybe I don’t need to tell you. Maybe I’m just being an intrusive big sister. But…it’s a considerable charge, Chris. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”

  Christian hesitated only briefly before answering. “Surer and surer every minute I spend with her.”

  Katie stood up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  Megan became drowsy on the car ride back into Chicago. Seth and Sarah were making out in the backseat and making increasing sounds of gratification and arousal. Megan’s eyes flew open once when Seth murmured, “Yes, right there,” followed by a gruff moan. Megan met Christian’s amused gaze, but she only gave a small smile, and returned to her content lassitude.

  She was only vaguely aware when Christian turned on the radio to a jazz station. Afterwards, he reached for her hand and held her warmly. His calloused thumb caressing her wrist and palm was the last thing she recalled before falling asleep.

  When she awoke, she was being carried in Christian’s arms. She should have insisted that he put her down right then and there. A glance through heavy eyelids told her that they were on the elevator at 748. The feeling of being surrounded by his arms was too heavenly to forsake, however. She savored the moment until the elevator door opened before she spoke.

  “You can put me down, Christian. I’m awake.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to,” he replied huskily. When they got to her front door, he paused.

  “Will you get my keys out of my pocket?”

  She complied, enjoying sliding her hands against the denim made warm by his hard body. She heard his quick inhalation, and guessed correctly that he’d enjoyed her hands on him as m
uch as she had.

  Not until he was carrying her to her bedroom did the realization strike her.

  “How come my house key was on your key ring?” she asked, bewildered.

  Christian didn’t speak for a few seconds as he laid her down on her bed. He remained leaning over her in the darkness.

  “I had a key made so that I could get into your loft. I’ve been sleeping in here with you for the past couple nights.”

  “What?” Megan exclaimed, sure she’d misunderstood him.

  Christian stood and switched on a bedside lamp. His sober expression increased her incredulity. She hadn’t heard him wrong.

  “From your reaction, I’d say you heard me correctly,” he said.

  “Christian, that’s outrageous. How could you do that? Why would you do that?” she asked as bewilderment gave way to wonderment.

  He shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, honey. I truly am. It seems that…over the past week or so, I’ve developed a need to have you near me before I can fall asleep.”

  Megan’s gaze unconsciously swept over Christian’s strong, jean-clad thighs in the silence that followed. “Where?” she finally asked throatily.

  “Where what?”

  “Where did you sleep?”

  Christian motioned his head over to the chair without breaking their gaze. Megan remembered her crying jag this morning after she’d smelled his scent on her T-shirt. The incident seemed like it had happened ages ago. She wanted to demand that he explain his behavior, but instead, she mused, “I’ve been dreaming about you at night. In the morning, I would wake up, and half expect you to be with me. It was upsetting, to find myself alone.”

  “It was?”

  She nodded. “Why did you really do it, Christian?”

  “What I told you was true. I went three nights on less than two hours sleep. If I didn’t get some rest, the band was going to lynch me. I was acting like a Grade A asshole. I just had a hunch that I might be able to sleep if I was with you.”