Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1)

by Shirley Hailstock

  She turned her attention to the road. The re­mainder of the journey was accomplished without in­cident.

  "Graffie," Kari screamed as she came through the door.

  Will opened his arms, and Kari ran into his arms as she had into her mother’s. "I missed you, my little munchkin." He lifted her into the air and swung her around. Kari’s tinkling voice drifted about the room.

  "I missed you, too, Graffie. Mommy says we’re having spaghetti."

  "That’s right. And it’s all ready." He kissed the dark head moving toward the kitchen.

  Robyn noticed the table was set for four. Will must have known Grant would here. They all sat down to a delicious dinner after which Will excused him­self, saying something about a TV mystery he wanted to see.

  Robyn spent the next several hours with Kari and Grant. She read the child’s favorite books and played a few cartoon tapes. Kari said she got to see a lot of new tapes while she was in the hospital. Grant joined right in as if he was part of the family. Finally, Robyn could see Kari was tiring.

  "It’s time to go to bed, Kari."

  "How about some hot chocolate?" The child didn’t argue that it was still daylight.

  "Okay. You go get ready, and I’ll make the choco­late."

  "Will you come with me?" She invited Grant to her room. For the second time that day, jealousy tugged at Robyn’s heart. Her daughter was usually re­served in her acceptance of strangers. Grant, in her eyes, must be different.

  Robyn could hear the rhythmic beeps of a computer game while she made hot drinks in the kitchen. She smiled at Kari’s animated laughter. To think that only two weeks ago she’d almost died. She pushed the thought away like removing a dark cloud as she poured hot chocolate for Kari and Grant, but made hot apple spiced tea for herself.

  "Mommy, I beat him, I beat him," she shouted ex­citedly when Robyn entered the room carrying a tray.

  Robyn looked sympathetically at Grant. "Don’t worry she beats me, too."

  "I can’t believe a four-year-old has beat me at a computer game."

  "Just how often do you and the Super Mario Broth­ers get together?" Robyn’s eyebrows went up along with the curve of her lips.

  "At least once a lifetime." He smiled, accepting the cup she offered.

  Kari continued to jab the joystick back and forth, destroying the electronic space monsters that blocked her path. In less than a minute, she had topped her previous score.

  "Okay, Kari, it’s time to drink your chocolate and get into bed." The pink clad child frowned but ac­cepted the cup.

  "He’s not bad, Mommy, but Graffie is better." Kari had a chocolate mustache that she licked in her child­ish way and completely circled her mouth with the brown liquid.

  "Everybody’s a critic." Grant set down his cup and tickled the Care Bears on her pajamas. Gales of high-pitched laughter flowed from the child.

  "Come on, champ. Let’s go to bed." Robyn turned the spread down on the bed and pulled back the sheet. Kari stepped out of Grant’s grasp and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

  "Goodnight, sweetheart." Robyn whispered after she kissed the clean pink cheeks and settled her in the bed.

  "Goodnight, Kari," Grant echoed.

  Robyn felt good as she walked down the steps. She was glad Kari had gotten along so well with her father. But she knew in the next few minutes she was going to have to tell him she could never see him again.

  "You look much more relaxed," Grant told her when she’d deposited the tray in the kitchen and returned to the living room.

  "I am. I was extremely worried about Kari, but she’s going to be fine."

  "How about you?" Concern was evident in the softly spoken question.

  "I’m fine, too." Grant had given her a perfect lead-in. Robyn sat down on the sofa facing him. "Grant, why are you here?"

  "I came to see you."

  "I thought I told you it wasn’t a good idea."

  "But you didn’t tell me why."

  "You don’t need to know." She didn’t believe she’d said that.

  "You’re wrong, Brooke. I do need to know." Grant moved. He came closer, sitting on the coffee table fac­ing her. "I need to know everything about you."

  Robyn refused to drop her eyes. She looked directly into his dark black orbs. "There isn’t a lot to tell. I’m plain, ordinary. I have a child, and I work. We live a perfectly ordinary life in this house."

  "What about me? How do you feel about me?"

  "I don’t feel anything for you." She was amazed at how well she could lie and keep her face straight.

  "Who taught you to do that?" he asked.

  "Do what?" Maybe she wasn’t as good as she thought. He’d thrown her a fastball. She didn’t expect it.

  "Tell such complete lies without blinking one beau­tiful eyelash." He outlined her eyes with his thumbs forcing her to close them.

  "I’m not lying." She struggled to keep the shudder that passed through her from bubbling out.

  "No?"

  Robyn stood up, moving away from him. She waited until she got behind the sofa before speaking. "Grant, I’m very grateful for what you did for Kari, but I’m not going to have an affair with you."

  Grant didn’t answer her. He stood, too, and followed her around. Robyn backed away. She didn’t know what he was going to do. Slowly, he stalked her until she backed herself up against the wall. He stopped. Barely three feet separated them. Grant looked deeply into her eyes. She could see the desire in his. In her own, she refused to let it show. Fire began a slow burn in the pit of her stomach and quickly spread throughout her being. Immeasurable seconds passed. Electricity snapped around the room. Her body ached for him. She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer, when suddenly something propelled her from behind. Her arms were around his neck, pulling his mouth to meet hers in a ragged, life-threatening kiss. Grant took charge, burying his hands in her hair, trading one pas­sionately wet kiss for another. Neither of them ap­peared to be in control. Need to touch, taste, possess each other led them on. Robyn was exhausted when she finally pulled her mouth away and collapsed in his arms. She felt like crying, something she hadn’t done in years. She wanted him, but he had to go. She’d promised Jacob she wouldn’t see him again. She’d resolved her life without him, and now, here she was wrapped in his warm arms, loving him, loving the sight and feel of him holding her.

  "You taste like—apple spiced tea."

  This wasn’t Robyn he was holding in his arms. This was Brooke. Grant knew it. It had been days since she had sent him away. It felt like weeks. During that time, he’d tried to forget her. He’d only known her for a weekend, but for some unexplainable reason her image kept creeping into his thoughts. He admitted he liked hav­ing her in his arms, but he’d had many women in his arms, and only Robyn had left an impression until now. Three times he’d flown in to see Kari, hoping he’d run into Brooke. It wasn’t until Kari told him she was leaving the hospital that he came back knowing if he stayed he had to see Brooke again.

  And this time he’d hit the jackpot. She had made a move toward him, but even in doing so she had pushed him away. He liked the feel of her, the way her slight body seemed to fit perfectly with his frame. Even though he held her, he knew she was pushing him away. Her mouth said "go away," but her body screamed for him to stay.

  And he could go on holding her. She reminded him a little of Robyn. A twig of conscience pulled at him for the comparison. It had been years since he com­pared anyone to his wife. It was unfair to Brooke. It had to be the tea. Robyn liked herb teas. Most of the women he’d known since hadn’t drunk tea at all. Brooke was refreshingly different.

  Why she wanted to push him away he didn’t know. He also knew he couldn’t ask yet. She wasn’t ready to answer that question. Why? Was her husband the man who had spoiled her for him? Had she had a bad marriage? Did he beat her? All he had were questions, and he couldn’t ask any of them. Not yet, not to this beautiful woman. But in time. He’d come back often. No mat
ter how much she objected. She stirred him, made him feel alive, and he suddenly, like a desperate man, wanted to be alive again. He wanted to feel, even hurt if he had to, but he’d conquer Brooke Johnson. "I have to leave now. But I will be back." He still held her.

  She tried to push herself away but he tightened his grip, holding her more securely against him.

  "Please, don’t come," she pleaded. "Just go and leave us alone."

  "What is it, Brooke? Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?"

  "No, I can’t. Just go and not come back. There is so much you don’t know, and I’ll never be able to tell you. It’s best if we just drop this association right now."

  "After the way you kissed me. There’s got to be more here than you’re telling me."

  "Grant, please. Don’t ask me any questions." She couldn’t keep the pleading quality out of her voice.

  "I’m flying to Europe. I’ll be back in a week, and I’ll be here to take you to dinner at eight o’clock." He ignored her request. Releasing her slightly, he looked down into her face. It was glowing with the remem­brance of recent kisses. For an uncontrollable moment, her mouth reminded him of Robyn’s, swollen with spent passion. Rapidly, he pushed the thought from his mind. "Don’t be late. I hate to be kept waiting."

  With that, he smiled and dropped a swift kiss on her upturned mouth before pulling the door open and disappearing through it.

  Robyn slid down the wall. In a little less than three days, she’d prom­ised Jacob she wouldn’t see Grant again, and already she’d broken her promise. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted him desperately. Part of her rejoiced in knowing she would see him again, while the other part of her cried at the injustice of the system that had put her in this position.

  "Mommy, are you all right?"

  Robyn instinctively moved toward the small voice. She blinked the moisture from her eyes. "Of course, darling. Mommy is fine. Are you all right?" Kari was standing halfway up the stairs. The bear Grant had given her hung from one hand as she wiped her eyes with the other.

  "I woke up."

  Robyn smiled at the three-word ex­planation. "Did you have a bad dream?" Going up the stairs, Robyn sat down and pulled her daughter into her arms.

  "No. Is Uncle Grant gone?" She asked, snuggling closer to Robyn.

  "He had to go back to his airplane."

  "Will he be back in time to go to the beach?"

  She frowned. How was she going to explain to a four-year-old that they could never see him again? "Kari, he’s a very busy man. He has to fly his plane a long way."

  "But he promised, if it was all right with you. You like the beach don’t you, Mommy?" Kari pumped her head up and down, giving the answer to the question she had asked.

  "Of course, but we have to wait until you feel better and Doctor Elliott says it’s okay."

  Kari smiled . "Doctor Elliott likes the beach. He told me." Her head continued to bob up and down. "He’ll say I can go."

  "Well, we’ll just have to wait and ask him. Now, back to bed."

  Robyn wished her problem could be solved as easily as a trip to the beach. That she could get her doctor’s permission and everything would be fine. But her doc­tor had an office in Washington, D.C., and he only made house calls under extreme circumstances.

  Chapter 7

  Grant rarely got the chance to play in the air. But, today, the horizon had called to him as clearly as if it had a voice. He pulled back on the stick in his hand. The motion was light-years different than the com­puter controlled jets he usually piloted. His air service was a business, and for years, he’d put in twenty-four hour days to make it a success. But it had paid off. Today, he appreciated his work as he soared over the airfield in the World War I fighter plane he’d bought at a recent auction. The wind whirled through his hair as he executed a three-hundred-sixty-degree loop and hung upside down for a moment.

  He grinned, slapping his thigh and letting out a whoop of laughter. This was flying. He felt like the Red Baron. Next time, he’d get a scarf to wear like the legendary German flier. There was just him and the wind. He controlled it with the stick in his hand. He pulled it back, and the rotating blades that con­trolled the single engine had the small double-wing plane climbing toward the heavens.

  It was like the first time he’d flown—when he’d found the freedom of the sky. Everything he wanted, all of his love and feelings were there in the limitless horizon. After not belonging anywhere, not being wanted by the foster families he stayed with, the sky was his love. The families were kind, but he knew he was an outsider. At twelve, he went to stay with Aunt Priscilla. At first, their relationship was uneasy, but eventually, they began to tolerate each other. Now, he loved the old woman, and she loved him. But it wasn’t until he met Will and took his first flight that he’d learned where he belonged. He hated to imagine what would have happened to him if he’d never learned to fly.

  "Richards’s Air calling 635-Alpha." Grant heard Adam Carpenter’s voice crackle over the radio that his mechanic had insisted on adding when they restored the plane. Grant wanted to leave it out and be as authentic as possible, but Adam was a product of his time, the age of high definition tele­vision, air phones, and computers. He wasn’t about to let Grant get out of communication distance with the ground.

  Lifting the old-style handset, he depressed the speaker button and answered, "Go on, Adam. I’m here." Grant wasn’t on a scheduled flight. He was playing and didn’t answer in the customary fashion. "I have a call for you."

  "If it’s not an emergency, take a message." Grant didn’t want to be disturbed. Flying was his life, and today, he didn’t want anything to interfere with the way he felt toward the sky and the plane.

  "I think you’ll want to speak to this little lady." There was a smile in Adam’s voice. Grant immediately thought of Brooke. His grip on the stick tightened.

  "Put her on," he said.

  "Hi, Uncle Grant." Kari’s young voice crack­led over the radio phone.

  Grant laughed at where his thoughts had been. "How’s my favorite blood relative?" he asked.

  "I’m fine. Graffie said I could call you."

  "I’m so glad you did. What are you doing? Beating Graffie at Space Invaders or Super Mario?" These two games made up Grant’s entire repertoire.

  "Graffie’s on his computer in the basement. I’m in the kitchen having a sandwich." Her small voice sounded as if she’d accomplished something big. Grant could imagine peanut butter and jelly smeared around her beautiful mouth.

  "Will you make me a sandwich, too?"

  "Of course, when are you coming to see me again?"

  "I’ll be there tomorrow," he said, feeling the antici­pation of seeing Brooke again warm his loins.

  "I’ll make you lunch," Kari volunteered. "We can have oysters on the half shell as an appetizer." She faltered on the last word, but continued in her childlike voice, "followed by Crab Imperial and Mommy’s spe­cial iced tea."

  Grant laughed. The child was precious and defi­nitely the daughter of a restaurant owner. Brooke had taught her a proper menu for lunch.

  "Kari, I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it for lunch, but I’d like a rain check." He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice.

  "All right, we’ll have lunch another day when it’s not raining."

  Grant laughed. “I promise, sweetheart."

  "Good-bye, Uncle Grant."

  "Good-bye, Kari."

  Grant released the speaker button and replaced the handset. He was smiling at Kari’s confidence. To think she could have died. He’d never even have met her if they didn’t have the same blood type.

  And he’d have never met her mother, Brooke. The smile left his face, and his brows knitted together. Brooke was an enigma. He was sure she wasn’t a spy as Will had suggested, but she was hiding some­thing. He didn’t know what, but each time he’d been with her, he could feel there was something behind everything she said and did. And her con­stant refusal to see him
wasn’t hurting his ego, he joked to himself. It was as if she was afraid to continue seeing him. But why? Before that night in the hospital, they had never met.

  That night came back to him. He’d thought she was Robyn. It was more than a thought, he knew she was Robyn. But how? Robyn was dead. And when she’d turned, his knees would have buckled if she hadn’t been white as a sheet and looking nothing like his wife.

  And, then, he’d taken her home. What happened on the sofa the next morning had started as a dream but hadn’t ended that way. Yet, there were so many simi­larities between Brooke and Robyn: the way she moved, how she phrased her words, and even the lyri­cal way her hands stirred the air as if they were play­ing the piano.

  Grant pulled hard on the stick in his hand. The plane climbed straight up until it looped over in a complete circle. It was how he felt. Brooke was driving him crazy, and his life was running from one circle to an­other, never finding a solution, just continuing along the same path.

  Well, he’d change that tomorrow. He’d find out what it was she was hiding.

  ***

  "I’ve decided not to see him again," Robyn pounded the dough for Yesterdays’s famous dinner rolls. It was the third decision she’d made in as many days.

  Marianne stood at the counter across from her. "You think you can hold to that?" she asked, throwing her a disdainful look while she piped white stars on a bunny cake.

  "Of course," Robyn said, punching at the mass of dough in her bowl. In truth, Robyn wasn’t sure of anything anymore. In just one day, Grant had upset the normal operation of her orderly life. She remem­bered how he’d upset her life that one day in Las Vegas when she’d met and married him within hours. She’d never regretted her decision not to take him into the program with her until she discovered her preg­nancy. Then she wanted him more than anything. It was too late by then. And Robyn knew she would have made the same decision even if she had known about Kari.

  Grant’s life hadn’t been easy, losing his parents, then going from one home to another where he felt unloved and unwanted. He never developed a sense of belonging, never allowed himself to love anyone for fear they would leave him. Aunt Priscilla explained that Grant too years to open up to her after he came to live with her. Flying was his freedom. Up there among the clouds and the wind was as close as he could get to the people who really loved him, and he’d never give up flying. He’d die if he couldn’t fly.