by T. Hammond
I sighed in defeat, fairly certain the score was Teresa: 0, Annoying Shrink: 1001. Not that I’m counting.
“I’m glad you’re here, Jim. I’ve never been a believer in professional analysis—seemed like a lot of wasted money to talk to someone and have them ‘Mm hum’ back at you. But even as informal as we’ve been, the talking has helped me work through a lot of my confusion. Thank you,” I said earnestly.
“My job is done,” Jim replied with a touch of smugness. “I’m glad to be here, Teresa. It was a good call on Russ’ part to bring me up here, not only for you, Marcia, and Wesley, but also for the benefit of a few of the men, who were incidentally impacted by the kidnapping.”
Yes, there is such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality, but it’s impossible to keep secrets in this house of twenty-plus people. We were a close-knit group, all the stronger for the intense, shared experiences between us. As a medical doctor, Jim could follow the progression of Marcia’s cancer, and monitor Wes’ recent skull fracture and broken arm, as well as seeing to their mental health, and mine. I know Bas has taken a walk or two in the woods with the doc, coming back more relaxed. Although he tried to give me space, a few of my sessions had turned into couples counseling when Bas asked to join in.
Out of curiosity, I asked, “And who do you talk to, Jim? Does a therapist therap-alyze himself? Or do you have a family member you talk to?”
“Therap-alyze? I’ll have to remember that,” Jim chuckled. “I have a colleague who meets me for coffee a few times per month when I’m in town. She and I discuss cases, as well as our own personal challenges. Everyone needs someone who’ll listen without judgment, offering helpful suggestions, rather than criticism—even me.”
“Especially you, Jim,” I guessed. “It must be draining to listen to all our emotional baggage. A couple times a week, while you’re here, we’ll have to take walks with Red. I’ll translate for you. There is nothing more light-hearted than the unfiltered, happy observations of fifteen-month old puppy. Red is smart, and above average for a dog, but he’s still a dog. It’s a wonderful thing to see the world through his eyes. Literally and figuratively,” I added with a smile, once I realized what I’d said.
****************
** 08:35, Thursday - Jan 24th **
“… and then Ralph told Double D, he needed to keep his pecker in his pants or it would fall off.” Jim and I were bent over in hysterics at Red’s latest gossip. He’d been going non-stop since we invited him along for a walk this morning. “It wouldn’t really fall off, would it, Teresa?” I will have to remind Russ, again, to caution the guys to be careful what they say around Red. The dog really does repeat everything.
“No,” I answered, after sharing the latest tidbit with the doc, “penises don’t fall off from too much sex.”
“Well, good to know. I may find a nice bitch and want to settle down and have puppies one day. If there’s a pecker expiration period, I’d need to know that,” my dog replied in all seriousness. “Oh, and did you know Wes gets his cast off in 10 days? He’s glad to have it off in time for his birthday, because he wants to play laser tag, and the cast is on his gun arm. My boy will be ten years old on February 10th.”
“Are you taking Wesley’s cast off, Jim? Red says it will be soon.”
Before Jim could answer, Red informed me, “No, Brain said he can do it with a dumb-hell tool.”
“Oh no, he won’t,” I stated, and clarified, “A medical doctor will remove his cast, not a software engineer with a Dremel.” To the real doctor, I tattled Brain’s intentions, and was assured the cast removal conspiracy would be nipped in the bud.
Maybe I wouldn’t remind Russ about gossip in front of Red. His reconnaissance was proving to be enlightening.
“David is finally talking to Bas again,” my dog informed me, in a complete change of subject.
“They’ve been talking for the last week, Red.”
“They were talking at each other before. Now they are com-mun-i-cating,” he enunciated. “Their body language is more relaxed, and David’s smile is real now, instead of gritting his teeth.” Red paused before asking, “People aren’t so dumb as to believe those are real smiles, are they?”
“It depends on how aware people are. You already know, some people can’t read body language very well. Sometimes, people find it easier to pretend it’s a real smile. It’s kinda complicated, Red. But I’m glad David and Bastian are trying to be friends again.”
Picking up the change of topic, Jim concurred, “I’ve noticed their smiles are natural now, too. The two are getting along better.”
I was glad to hear of the progress. David had been avoiding personal conversation with me, electing to speak only when spoken to, and usually only during meals. He and Bas had been behind the closed office door almost sixteen hours a day for the last week, finishing the drone project which will be handed over to the colonel’s team tomorrow. There will be a week’s downtime, then Bastian will be heading to places unknown to oversee the installation. Six of the Mustangs will accompany him, so they can watch the procedure and help with the other four locations to be upgraded.
“Oh, Teresa! My boy’s calling me, I’ve gotta go.” Red dashed away without waiting for my response.
“What was that all about?” Jim asked, somewhat bemused. “One second he was dancing around your feet, and the next, he’s off like a rocket.”
“So much for my ‘faithful canine companion.’ I’ve been replaced by a sixth grader. Wes beckons, and Red runs to get into mischief.”
“Sixth?” I could almost imagine Jim counting school grades on his fingers. “Shouldn’t he be in fourth grade?”
“The kid didn’t stand a chance, Jim. His mom was some hotshot research scientist, and his dad is an uber-geek prodigy with a dozen degrees. The kid had an off-the-chart IQ, exactly like his dad. David will home school Wes for the rest of the school year, then Wes’ll be enrolled in the private school down by the hatchery, Saint George’s. It’s a small school, teaching grades K through twelve, so it will be easy to advance him through the curriculum at his own pace.”
“Will David have time to home school the boy?” Jim asked, concern coloring his voice.
“Marcia will help for as long as she’s able, maybe only another week or two. By then, David will have completely handed over the military’s program. Bas has agreed to oversee the installs with the help of the Wild Horse software team, so David will have the time to bond with Wes, and be with Marcia when her time comes. This soon after the skull fracture, on top of relocating, and his mom’s poor health, David wanted to give his son time to settle into a routine before placing him back in school. Frankly, I think David needs Wes close,” I opined. “Marcia’s imminent death is affecting him more than he lets on.”
“Mmm. A very astute observation from the blind woman,” Jim drawled. “I’m sorry you lost the closeness you once shared with David. While Sebastian is, in my opinion, a perfect match for you, I can see how much you once cared for David, and how well you are still able to read his moods and needs. David has a very good friend in you, and I hope he comes to terms with the changes to your relationship, soon.”
“You think he’s still holding on to hope?” I asked. “Bas thinks so.”
“David’s feelings are complex,” Jim said, tactfully. “He’ll find a balance; Wes will help, I think.”
We continued our walk, each of us silent with our own thoughts.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
** Early morning, Friday - Jan 25th **
I woke to the warm scent of cinnamon and cedar, and a gentle hand stroking me from nape to slightly shy of my pajama bottoms. I was starting to see a pattern here.
“G’morning, Babe,” Bastian greeted, his voice raspy from sleep. “Congratulations. You slept through the night.”
I slapped at his shoulder playfully, with a loosely closed fist, “Don’t jinx it!”
My man-pillow rumbled with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to upse
t the single-night winning streak,” he mocked.
Firmly adhering to the Cardinal Rule of Morning Kisses, Bastian slid fingers through my hair, anchoring me in place while he dotted my face with butterfly kisses: forehead, cheeks, and finally, lips.
When he drew away, I leaned in for one final smooch. “I love you, Sebastian Declan.”
“I’m totally in love with you, Ms. March.” I enjoyed the warm kiss which punctuated his declaration.
“It’s your birthday on Sunday,” I proclaimed, with the all the enthusiasm of a chaplain announcing the death of a loved one.
“So it is,” he confirmed with the same seriousness.
“You’re going to be pretty old, Bas. Frost is looking better and better every minute. He is a year younger, after all. More virile, no doubt,” I added consideringly.
“There’s a lot of power under my hood. I may surprise you with superior performance.”
“Maybe,” I prevaricated, “then again, I could be wildly disappointed. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a woman got wowed by the chassis only to find the engine doesn’t even turn over without a boost.”
“Real subtle, hon. You’re an evil woman, implying I should run out and get a prescription for Viagra,” he laughed. “My engine works just fine, Babe.” He pulled me higher, over his body, making a point to nestle his erection against the juncture of my thighs.
“Mmm, on the surface, it seems promising,” I conceded.
“Thinking of trading me in for a younger model? You haven’t even taken me for a proper test drive, Babe.”
“Actually…” I shimmied to the side to open the top drawer of my night stand, pulling out an envelope I’d saved for this moment. “I hope to schedule a test drive for this evening.”
Curling against his side, so both his arms would be free to open the missive, I waited for him to read the contents.
“It’s a reservation for a suite at the Davenport Hotel,” he told me, unnecessarily—after all, I booked the room. “Tonight through Sunday morning.”
“I love you, Bastian. What do you say? Can I take you out for the weekend? Kick your tires? Maybe take a peek under the hood? I’m dying to find out if your ride is as smooth as the chassis promises.”
“You’ve got the only key to this ride, Babe. I’d love to spend the weekend with you.” He rolled over me, bracing above my body, and disregarded the Cardinal Rule of Morning Kisses, delving deeply into my mouth, taking my breath away.
“Are you guys up yet?” Red asked from outside the bedroom door. “Can I come in?”
My intuitive Bastian immediately detected my split attention. “What’s wrong, Teresa?”
“Red’s outside, asking permission to come in.” Bas’ groan echoed mine.
“We’re leaving the dog, right?” he clarified.
“Definitely.”
“Come in, Red,” Bastian called, rolling to the side, cuddling my back to his happy front.
“I’ve been waiting, forever!” my dog complained with an exaggerated sigh, as the door swooshed open, then closed. “Geez, were you guys making-out, again? The pheromones are overpowering.”
“Why did Red fall over on his side? If he’s trying to play dead, he shouldn’t be smiling,” Bas critiqued.
“Apparently, he’s suffering from pheromone poisoning,” I answered drolly. “It seems there is an over-abundance of them in the room.”
“Ahh,” Bas responded sagely, events suddenly clear. “And, is there a reason he interrupted us at… oh-five-twenty eight this morning, or was he only hoping to dazzle us with his B-list acting skills?”
“Hey! I’ve got talent, Russ says so.” I heard the shuffle of paws on carpet, as he scrambled to his feet.
“Well, if Russ thinks you have acting potential, you should be waking him up,” I countered.
“Russ and Gwyn went home last night,” Red informed me. Home being the rental house Bas and David leased when they first came to town, which Russ took over for his own use until the contract expires.
“I’m bored,” Red whined. “David and his PreClan detail left a while ago to deliver the software program to Fairchild Air Force Base. Everyone left behind is either working or sleeping. Nobody wants to play with me.”
“Red is bored,” I shared with Bas. To Red, I replied, “What makes you think we’ll get up and play with you? We aren’t sleeping, but we are in bed, and not planning to move from here for a while.”
“We’re not?” Bas whispered playfully, in my ear.
Ignoring the man behind me, I suggested, “Go play with your toys, Red, or wake up Tank. He doesn’t mind.”
“Tank is sleeping in the blanket fort. Wes told me to ‘go away,’” Red shared. My dog was feeling rejected, his sadness stirring my empathy. Poor baby. Unfortunately for Red, not enough sympathy that I would leave Bas’ warmth to go outside and play in the snow.
“He told you to go away because he doesn’t want to get up yet. Go outside and do a perimeter check. Maybe one of the guards will play if you take a ball with you.”
“Or, you can look for the greyish-brown cat I saw near the Foster’s house yesterday,” Bas casually suggested.
“There’s another cat in the area? No one told me about it.” Red’s interest was captured. “I should check it out.” With a scratch of paws on carpet, followed by the hydraulics of the door, my bored dog had renewed purpose.
“You lied about the cat, didn’t you?” I accused. “Brilliant.”
“It wasn’t really a lie, I saw something which could have been a cat.” I felt the negligent shrug of his shoulder. “Then again, it could have been a marmot. Or a rabbit. Maybe it was a squirrel?” He snuggled his nose against the nape of my neck. “I’m more interested in returning to the original subject concerning my chassis.”
“That’s because you’re guy, and men have notoriously skewed priorities,” I smiled.
“What time is this test drive scheduled for? I want to make sure my belts are tight, levels are topped off, and the exterior’s polished. Don’t want my girl to be disappointed in her purchase—buyer’s remorse won’t get her a refund.”
“Sad, but true,” I mourned briefly. “It seems I’m stuck with you; I’ll have to make lemonade. Oh, wait! Maybe you’re returnable under the Lemon Law.”
“Quit with the threats, woman,” he chided, punishing me with a string of kisses across my neck and shoulder.
“Janey is picking me up at nine o’clock, that’s oh-nine hundred,” I teased. “She and I are going to have a spa day. I plan to grill her about the baby.”
Bastian went still behind me. Oh, oh. Had I forgotten to mention his sister was, according to Red, preggers? “Red told me she smells pregnant since her return from vacation. I don’t know if she knows yet, so I was planning to discuss it with her while we go through the bonding rituals of manicures, pedicures, and Swedish massages. Don’t say anything. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“This would be a blessing, you know. Mom and Dad will be so focused on Janey and a baby, they’ll ignore us for a while.”
“Maybe babies. Janey was telling us during Girls Night dinner, Ken’s mom is a triplet,” I confided gleefully.
“Three at once? Oh, Babe. This could get us off the hook for a decade or more. Mom’s been hinting about grandkids for a few years. She’ll be in heaven. Of course, Ken will have to marry her, or I’ll be forced to kill him. Family honor, you know.”
“Of course. You must uphold Janey, the pregnant slut’s, good name,” I snarked. “Leaving the three youngsters fatherless. But that’s okay, you, as Uncle Bas-hole-who-murdered-our-father, can step in and assume the parental father role.” Getting into the part of devil’s advocate I added, “Through video conference calls. From the pokey. While Janey struggles to raise her three children as a single mom.” I could have extended the scenario further, but Bas’ growl promised consequences and I remembered a prior conversation about spankings.
“Besides, Janey told me she’s ex
pecting a marriage proposal soon. She will be a Mrs. before the alleged bundles of joy arrive.”
“Wow. Hard to believe my baby sister: a wife and mom. She’ll be great at it though.”
“Yeah. She’ll be a beautiful bride, too. Maybe we can go on vacation somewhere when they plan the wedding? You know your mom will try and rope me into the preparations. I’m no good at girly stuff. If I decide to marry you, one day, you have to promise we elope. I’ll take the heat from your parents. Mom and Dad like me, they’ll understand I don’t want any fuss.”