Because of Francie

by Karen Rose Smith

  But even now, Noah wasn't about to take without giving. He tried her with his finger.

  She gasped from the exquisite sensation.

  Again, and again, and again, he touched her until she was writhing on the bed and reaching for his shoulders. She didn't want to experience this ecstasy alone. She wanted him inside her, taking the journey with her.

  Bracing his hands on either side of her, he kissed her until she was part of him, whole with him, reveling in something so intimate that nothing could separate them again. She arched toward him so the oneness could be physical as well as emotional.

  She felt him at her entrance, her secret folds separating to welcome him. Soon she would know all of him--

  He swore, the sound of it so harsh and fierce she opened her eyes. "What's wrong?"

  "Are you protected?"

  Her heart almost stopped beating as the reality of the situation sank in. She didn't want to answer him because she knew what would happen when she did. She knew Noah. "No."

  He looked angry, angrier than she'd ever seen him. Closing his eyes, tightening his hands into fists on the spread, he took long, harsh breaths. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  She didn't want him to move away, or stop what they'd started. Her body cried for completion, but so did her heart. "Because I didn't think about it any more than you did. Noah this is a good time of the month, I'm probably safe..."

  "Probably?" he growled. He moved quickly and lay a good six inches away from her.

  A moment before they'd been so close. She touched his arm.

  He pulled away. "Don't touch me, Francie. Not right now."

  Her cheeks flamed as she realized how stringently he was battling for control. "Noah, it wouldn't have mattered. I wanted this. I wanted you."

  He jerked his head toward her, his gaze sharp, his questions just as sharp. "And what about figure skating, Francie? If you got pregnant, would you want me to carry around the responsibility for destroying your career the rest of my life?"

  He was right. She knew he was. And she had no excuse except, "I didn't think about that."

  He stared at her in amazement. "I have trouble believing that. Women calculate passion as much as men. They usually know exactly what they're doing."

  His words hurt more than a slap. Did he think she wanted to trap him? Use him? He was searching for an ulterior motive. What she felt for Noah was free and natural and honest. Apparently he didn't believe that. And if he could think her feelings weren't honest, that she was playing some kind of game, then he obviously didn't love her. Tears burned in her eyes, but she wasn't about to let him see them.

  Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she knew she had to get covered, she had to get dressed, she had to get out of here.

  "Francie."

  His voice stopped her. But she didn't look at him.

  She heard his deep sigh. "Apparently neither of us was thinking."

  A tear lodged in the corner of her eye. She blinked fast and furious. "What about feeling, Noah? Doesn't that matter, too?" She knew she was pushing. She couldn't draw from him something that wasn't there.

  "Feeling matters, but we know this can't go anywhere."

  "Even if I don't go back to figure skating?" As soon as she asked, she realized he wouldn't answer.

  "Your decision about figure skating can have nothing to do with me," he said gruffly. "I can't promise you anything. I travel, I know nothing about family, about relationships. I told you before, Francie, I know nothing about being attached."

  She flounced off the bed and picked up her bra from the floor. Being naked with a person was about as honest as you could get. But Noah wasn't being honest with himself. "You're wrong, Noah. You're caring, and giving, and protective. You know how to be attached. You don't want to be. I don't know why. Maybe you're scared. You think I'm not? But I'm willing to take the chance."

  Yanking on her sweater, she dared to glance at him. But he was wearing his expressionless face again, the one that gave nothing away, the one that protected him from everyone knowing his thoughts. He might be protective of people he cared about, but he was a heck of a lot more protective of himself. Until he decided to open up and let someone love him, he couldn't love and be loved.

  She loved him. She didn't know how that fit into her life, but she knew she could make it fit, make him fit, if they both wanted it. But until Noah was ready to risk trusting, to risk loving, he would be alone, a traveler, dabbling in life, not experiencing it.

  She dressed quickly, needing to get away from Noah's presence, away from his aloofness, away from his silent regard. She had nothing more to say to him and apparently he had nothing to say to her.

  Before she left, she realized she did have something else to tell Noah because she had to set the record straight. She put on her jacket and buttoned it. "Once upon a time, I dreamed of being married to Brent, of skating with him for the rest of our lives. But it was a young girl's dream. My dreams have changed, Noah. I don't know if figure skating is still part of them, but I know for sure that Brent isn't. So don't use him as an excuse. He has nothing to do with you and me."

  ****

  Noah stared at the closed door after Francie left, tried to relax muscles tight with sexual frustration, and couldn't begin to relax any of them. Slamming his fist onto the mattress, he wished he could put it through the wall instead. Dammit. He needed to get back to his apartment in Richmond.

  Why?

  Because...

  Why?

  Because there he could...

  What? Be alone? Keep safe? Pretend Francie had never entered his life?

  No. He could get back to business.

  And what about Francie?

  He'd tasted the secrets of her mouth. He'd felt her ripe honeyed sweetness. He'd heard her sighs and moans begging for satisfaction.

  She'd wanted to give him pleasure, too, and she had until he'd stopped her. He'd had no other responsible choice.

  He'd promised he'd stay until after Valentine's Day. It was less than a week away. He wouldn't break his promise. But then he'd leave.

  ****

  Francie let herself into the house, hoping no one would be around. But then she heard the television. Could she escape upstairs and pull herself together?

  "Paul? Is that you?" Angela called from the living room.

  Francie looked at the staircase again, then sighed and unbuttoned her jacket. "No, Mama, it's me."

  "Come sit with me. I haven't talked to you for a few days."

  Her mother had seen her this morning at breakfast, but Angela didn't consider that "talking." Francie was not in any shape to have a heart-to-heart. Her cheeks were probably still flushed, her lips still kiss-swollen. But she knew if she tried to scurry upstairs, her mother would be even more tenacious.

  She hung her coat in the closet, pressed her palms to her cheeks, and went to the living room.

  "You just coming from the rink?"

  It would be so easy to stretch the truth and say yes. "No. I had to speak to Noah. Drew Pierson fell at the rink today and we had a few things to discuss."

  Her mother looked up from the color-swatch book on her lap. Her one quick look took in much too much. "Why don't you ask Noah to come to dinner on Sunday?"

  "That's not a good idea." Francie heard the panic in her voice. She couldn't pretend to be casual with Noah, not after what had just happened.

  Her mother set the swatch book aside and clicked off the remote. Patting the sofa next to her, she invited, "Come, sit down."

  "Mama, I'm tired. If you want to ask Noah for dinner, go ahead, but I'll be leaving right afterward for Hershey." Her mother looked hurt and Francie regretted her impatience.

  "Why are you so tired, Francie Marie? Too much on your mind?"

  More like too much on her heart. She crossed the room and sat down next to her mother.

  Angela put her hand on Francie's knee. "What's wrong, honey?"

  Tears came to Francie's eyes, tears that this ti
me she couldn't blink away.

  Angela studied her daughter's face, her shiny eyes. "Is it Brent?"

  How much simpler things would be if it was. "It's not Brent."

  "Have you made a decision?"

  "No."

  "What are you waiting for, Francie?"

  "For a decision to feel right," she blurted out, suddenly realizing that's exactly what she was waiting for.

  Angela looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

  "All my life, I made decisions because they were the right decisions to make, something I should do, something someone else wanted me to do. This time I want to make a decision that feels right in my heart, like last year when I made the decision to ask Craig to let me manage the rink."

  Angela frowned. "You have to take many things into consideration--your talent, your future, what you've invested so far."

  Her mother wasn't saying it, but Francie knew what Angela wanted. She wanted her daughter to be in the limelight, on television, to make the family proud, to sacrifice herself to her grandmother's belief in her. Francie had done that long enough. It was a hard habit to break.

  Angela must have sensed Francie's withdrawal because she changed the subject. "So what about Noah? Are you upset about him, too?"

  How much did her mother suspect? How much did she know? Maybe it was time to be up front with her mother about everything. "I love Noah."

  Her mother's eyes widened, her mouth opened, but she recovered quickly. "You've known him only a few weeks."

  "How long did it take you to fall in love with Pop?"

  Her mother actually blushed! "I knew from the first time I talked to him. But times were different then. Now you have to be more careful."

  "I thought I was careful with Brent."

  Angela sighed and shook her head. "He seemed like such a nice man. So polished, so talented, so charming. Maybe he's changed. Maybe now he realizes what he did, what you both lost. Maybe you need to give him another chance."

  Francie hadn't seen any evidence of remorse in Brent. Maybe that bothered her most of all. And she simply couldn't trust him or his motives. "Brent's charm is an act to get what he wants. Noah's not like that. He's honest, even though it hurts."

  "How does Noah feel about you?"

  "I don't know."

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Angela confessed, "Your father likes Noah. He never thought much of Brent."

  Francie had never known that. Her father was a good judge of character. "Where is Pop?"

  "He went over to Vince's to help him install a new bathroom vanity."

  "And Gina?"

  "Out with that new boy. She said you met him. What do you think?"

  This was Francie's opportunity to let the burden drop from her shoulders. But if she did, she'd feel she was betraying a confidence. "I'm not sure. She got in late last night, didn't she?"

  "A half hour past her curfew for a school night. Normally we wouldn't mind. But it was her attitude this morning. As if she has a right to stay out as late as she wants. She wasn't like that before she started seeing this Jake."

  "She's growing up."

  Angela smiled. "Much too fast. She'll be off to college next year. You'll probably be traveling..."

  "Mama, I don't know what I'll be doing."

  Angela squeezed Francie's knee. "I know you'll make the right decision."

  Francie had to ask herself, Right for whom?

  ****

  Noah flicked on the light beside the bed for at least the third time. Two A.M. Insomnia at its height. Frustrated hormones coupled with turbulent thoughts. Francie's face before him whether he closed his eyes or kept them open. The spy thriller he carried in his suitcase for nights like this usually remedied the sleeplessness. But not this night. Not this situation.

  The phone's sharp beep startled him. Who would be calling this time of night? Unless Francie...What? Just wanted to talk to him in the middle of the night? Not likely. Still, the hope leapt as he threw back the covers and went to the kitchen to answer the apartment phone. When he checked the caller ID he saw Piccard. But it wasn't Francie's number.

  "Hello?"

  "Noah, it's Gina."

  "Gina! What's wrong?"

  "Uh, nothing exactly."

  "Nothing? That's why you called me at two A.M.? Has something happened to Francie? Your mom or dad?"

  "No. But something's going to happen to me if you don't help me."

  Noah hoped to heaven the teenager was being dramatic for effect. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Where are you?"

  "An all-night diner along Route 30. About a half hour from Gettysburg."

  "Toward York or Chambersburg?"

  "York. Noah, can you come get me?"

  The flippancy in her tone had changed to fear and Noah became worried. "Are you sure you're all right?"

  "I am now. But I'm afraid Jake will come back. I'm just...stranded."

  Noah thought he heard tears in her voice. He had no idea what to do with an upset teenager. "Gina, do you want me to get your mom?"

  "No!"

  "Okay. Exactly what do you want me to do?"

  "Please come and get me so I can sneak in. I was supposed to be home by midnight."

  "And you think your parents aren't waiting up?"

  "They trust me, Noah. They're probably asleep. Come and get me and they'll never know."

  Noah went to his window and peered through the blinds. The Piccard house was dark. Gina could be right about everyone sleeping. Yet what if they were awake and worrying? "I think they're going to know, Gina, one way or the other."

  "I can't face them right now. Don't you see? I was wrong about Jake--"

  "Did he hurt you?" Noah asked as gently as he could.

  "No. He just scared me."

  "Is he there now?" Noah would break the punk's neck if he'd hurt Gina in any way.

  "No."

  Noah heard the catch of tears again. "Let me get Francie."

  "No." As adamant, if not as sharp as the first time.

  "Gina, I'm going to wake either your mom or Francie. Which is it?"

  Silence. Finally, Gina said, "Francie usually leaves her purse with her cell downstairs. So you'll have to wake her from outside. Her room is at the right corner facing the backyard. If you throw something at the window, you can wake her without alerting mom or dad."

  He sighed. "Wouldn't it be easier--"

  "Please, Noah? Do this for me. Tell her I'm okay. Then come get me. But don't bring her along. I don't know what I'm going to tell her."

  He must be out of his mind to consider it, but he knew desperation when he heard it. He didn't want Gina bolting off for parts unknown. "Is there anything else I should know?" Like, were the police looking for her or her boyfriend?

  "No. I'll be waiting inside the diner. And hurry, okay?"

  He'd fly if he could. Getting a few landmarks, he reassured her that he'd be there shortly.

  Noah pulled on the T-shirt and sweatpants that Francie had stripped from him. He could still feel her hands on him. Damnation!

  A few minutes later, he was outside Francie's window. Taking careful aim, he threw a stone, hoping he wouldn't break the glass. He needn't have worried. The stone pinged off the screen at a slant and he couldn't tell if it even made a noise. The incredible naivete of youth. Gina had thought this would be so easy!

  With the third stone, determined if this didn't work he was going to ring the doorbell, Francie raised her window. "Noah? Is that you?"

  "Come downstairs so we can talk."

  "Noah, I can't hear you."

  He blew out a huge breath and in as loud a whisper as he could manage, he enunciated clearly, "Come down here."

  She'd turned on the light in her room. It backlit her tousled hair. He swallowed hard as he imagined her in her nightgown. She must have heard his shouted whisper because she turned away from the window. A short time later, she was standing in her robe at the back door.

&n
bsp; With breathless anticipation and hopeful, sparkling eyes, Francie asked, "Did you change your mind? Do you want me to come back to your apartment? I wish I could, but Gina's not home and I was thinking about waking Mama and Pop..."

  He felt as if she'd hit him in the gut with a cast-iron frying pan. He was trying to put wanting her out of his head. She was still entertaining the possibility they could be together. Her blue flannel robe molded to every one of her curves so that he remembered them explicitly. If it wasn't for Gina...No! In a way it was a good thing tonight had happened the way it had.

  Setting aside that whole question for now, ignoring the longing stringing his body, he got straight to the point. "Gina called me."

  Even in the porch light, he could see Francie pale. "Is she all right? Was she in an accident? I'll never forgive myself if--"

  Noah took hold of Francie's arms and told her the little he knew. When he was finished, she said, "I'm going with you."

  "You can't. I told her I'd come alone."

  Francie pulled out of his grasp. "Well, you told her wrong. I'm worried about her. You can't believe I'm going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs until you get back."

  "Francie, I don't want to go back on my word. She trusted me enough to call me. What if I call you as soon as I get there?"

  "Not good enough."

  "Francie..."

  "If you don't take me with you, I'll just get in my car and follow you."

  He realized she would and that would make no sense at all. But how would Gina feel--?

  "Noah, I want to show her I care about her."

  He couldn't say no to Francie's plea because he knew how much she did care. "All right."

  Francie gave him a weak smile. "It'll take me two minutes to dress. I have clean clothes in the laundry room so I don't even have to go upstairs.

  Noah followed her inside, careful not to let any of the doors slam. Pacing the kitchen, he thought again about Francie's hopeful questions about going back to his place. He never for a moment believed she was interested in an "affair." The thought had crossed his mind that she'd do it because of the rink as a last-ditch effort to convince him not to sell. But knowing Francie the way he did, he'd dismissed that idea quickly.

  If he asked her to come to his apartment, he was agreeing to a commitment. He wasn't ready for that. He didn't think he'd ever be ready for that.