by Mara Jacobs
“Mainstream country has hit the U.P., I’ll give you that. But you were never mainstream, Finn, not in music, or anything else.” Before he had a chance to wonder if he’d just been criticized or complimented, she continued. “I bet you don’t have a Faith or a Carrie Underwood in that pile. It’s probably stuffed with Willie, Waylon and Johnny Cash. Oh, maybe you’ve gone daring and hip and added a little George Strait.”
He smiled. She wasn’t wrong. But she didn’t know what else he’d added to his tastes. She would in a second. The CD finished its roll of the disc to the songs he’d selected in sequence. The identifiable strains of Springsteen’s harmonica opening “Thunder Road” came through the speakers.
Her head snapped to attention. “Bruce? You listen to Bruce now?”
Her surprise made him smile. “Someone a long time ago got me turned on to him.”
“I didn’t think you were even listening, you used to bitch up a storm when I’d put him on.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I was listening. I got some of his stuff, the ones I’d heard with you. But no, I don’t listen to him a lot.” He didn’t tell her that he found himself reaching for the Boss when he was feeling low, feeling sorry for himself, wanting to sit in the dark of the living room after Stevie had gone to bed and Annie was asleep. He’d grab a beer, put on some Springsteen, and just sit on the couch in the dark room and brood.
He’d never made the connection before, but it seemed so glaringly obvious to him now. Listening to Springsteen reminded him of a better time in his life. Reminded him that there were people in the world who had seen him for more than just a shitty husband, or a struggling father. They had seen a glimmer of possibility in a young Finn, someone who would see his dreams through.
Liz leaned back into the corner of the couch. The corners of her mouth turned up as she hummed along with Bruce. He watched the perfect bow of her upper lip. He could barely remember Gran’s birth date, or even his own phone number, but the shape of Liz’s mouth seemed imprinted on his memory forever.
He placed his hands under her bent knees, and eased her legs from underneath her to straighten over his lap. She let him take her legs and push her back farther into the couch. He cupped her calf, then ran his hand down to her ankles where he began to rub her feet.
“That feels wonderful, but I should probably be doing that to you. You’re the one who worked all day. I’m on vacation, I’m permanently relaxed.”
He didn’t mention the hum he felt flow through her body. He wouldn’t call that relaxed. He’d call that…aroused. He sure as hell felt the same way.
“Don’t worry, you can do plenty of rubbing on me.” He was greeted once again with her laugh, but this time it was low and throaty.
He slid her skirt up her legs to the top of her thighs, freeing her legs so she’d be able to move to the next place he wanted her. Her eyes followed his movement, and when his hands stilled, she looked up to his face. Met his eyes. Shared his hunger. She licked her lips, an unconscious movement, which sent Finn into action.
Taking her by the waist, he lifted her from her sitting position, turned her and settled her across his lap. Her hands came out looking for balance and landed on his biceps. She sat straddling him, face to face.
It all exploded after that.
Her hands slid up his arms and locked behind his neck as his mouth crashed down on hers. She met him with every thrust as his tongue explored her. She tasted of wine, chocolate, vanilla and…summer.
She started to rock against him and he slid his hands up her thighs, taking her skirt all the way with him so that there was only the barrier of her satin panties against his jeans. She gasped as her sensitive skin found the seam of his denim, and his cock rallied to show her his response. The room had grown dim as twilight had come upon them, but he could see her face clearly when he pulled away from her mouth.
Her hazel eyes glowed, sparkled. Her mouth was wet and already swollen from his hungry kisses. She took her hands from behind his neck. As he hoped she would do - as he needed her to do - she cupped his face in her hands and looked deeply into him. Into his soul, or what was left of it.
“Finn,” she whispered, so softly he wasn’t sure he even heard it. But he felt it.
Her eyes were full of compassion and redemption and second chances, all of which he needed, and none of which he sensed she was able to give him. Fine. He’d take whatever else she was offering. By the way her hips were moving against his hard dick, he was pretty sure what that was.
He took her hands from his face, unable to take the feelings her gesture raised in him. This was not about redemption or new leaves or healing old wounds, for Christ’s sake. This was about getting laid, pure and simple. About getting this damn blouse off of Liz and burying himself in her lush breasts. His fingers stumbled over the buttons, but he got them undone.
They were larger, and fuller now, of course. Having lost their girlish perkiness, they hung lower. But still spectacular. There were small silver marks in her skin at the top sides of her breasts. He pulled aside the straps to look at them more closely, the only light in the room now streaking in from the kitchen. He felt her stiffen as she followed his glance and her hands left him and started to pull at the sides of her shirt, as if to cover herself.
Not knowing what had made her suddenly shy, he placed his hands over hers and stilled them before she could cover up. “No, Liz, let me look at you. Your breasts, so womanly, so...” he didn’t finish, couldn’t, because his mouth was full of the soft, jiggly flesh that overflowed the cups of her bra. Also satin, and a pristine white, just like the panties. There was a lot of material to the bra - to cover a lot of breast. But there was also a lot of flesh peaking out over the lacy top of the cups and that’s what his hungry mouth feasted on.
It wasn’t enough. Not when he could feel her nipple tightening just below his chin. He peeled the cups down, hooking the material below her breasts, becoming as much support as the underwire, and lifted her bared breasts to his waiting mouth.
As he clamped down on her aroused nipple, he was assaulted with memories. Of this woman as a girl, in this room, writhing as he suckled her. Her hands holding his head to her as she was doing now. Her hips moving then, too, but that night, in her innocence, she hadn’t known why. Now she did, and he guessed by her rhythm that she’d learned a thing or two about pleasure since that night.
It was too much, he needed to be inside of her. At the very least he needed to be on top of her.
He rolled her to their sides, then rolled himself up, tucking her underneath him. Her skirt, now tangled around her waist, was no hindrance as she opened her soft thighs for him to settle himself on top. His mouth returned to her breasts, wet and flushed. He was glad he’d shaved again when he’d showered. The thought of putting stubble burns on her unsoiled flesh was unbearable.
He was just about to readdress those little marks when he felt her hands pull on his shoulder. “Finn. Finn.” He didn’t find it hard to believe that she was so hot so quickly, he knew he was.
“I know, Liz. I feel it too.” It was consuming him, this need to be inside her. He rocked against her. But she kept tugging on his shoulders.
“No, Finn. I think I heard a car.”
That wouldn’t be unusual. The picture window behind the couch faced the road and a loud car could occasionally be heard from inside the house. He tried to still and listen for the sound that had her spooked but all he could hear was the throbbing inside his head. And his cock.
“It’s nothing.” He returned to laving her nipples. He loved how the puckered flesh felt against his tongue.
Then he heard it too. But it was in the kitchen now. Another light flickered on and two unmistakably female voices drifted through the doorway to the living room. Two voices he knew. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Not again!” Liz groaned as he thought the same thing. “This is so déjà vu,” she said, once again mirroring his thoughts. She ducked her head under his chest and furiously began put
ting her bra back in place and reaching for her buttons. “I’m too old for this.”
He grunted. “You and me both. This is unbelievable.” He lay on top of her, once again protecting her until she was decent.
The light of the living room went on and he peeked his head over the arm of the couch. “Gran. I didn’t expect you back tonight.”
“Apparently.”
“Annie’s with you?”
“Of course. Where else would she be?”
“Shit,” he whispered and felt Liz freeze underneath him. A few seconds passed, he felt her take a deep breath, as if steeling herself for battle. She ducked her head under his arm, and peered out around the side of the couch.
“Hello Mrs. Robbins. You probably don’t remember me. I’m Lizzie Hampton.”
Finn could have kissed his grandmother. She didn’t even seem to blink as she took in the scene. “Of course I remember you, Elizabeth, it’s nice to see you again. And please, call me Clea.”
“Thank you, Clea. It’s nice to see you too, although I wish it were under different circumstances.” She smiled at Finn’s grandmother and the woman melted at Liz’s friendly charm, just like everyone else. Gran waved her comment away and gave her a warm look of understanding. A sort of blood-brother look that he assumed only women could understand.
There was movement behind his grandmother and she stepped to her side to make way for Annie.
“Annie,” Finn let out in a sigh.
Liz strained her neck to get a better look at Annie as she made her way around Gran. A mechanical “whoosh whoosh” preceded the rubber tires and spokes of a wheelchair that came to a stop. The inhabitant stared at Liz and Finn. His little girl, her eyes shining with tears and an anger that crushed him. “Oh Annie, honey, don’t.”
Liz took in Annie. Finn tried to see Annie through a stranger’s eyes. She was breathtaking. An angel. White hair, wide blue eyes that a few tears had escaped from. Cherubic cheeks heightened in color by her rage and a wide mouth that was trembling
He felt Liz gasp beneath him. “Hannah? ‘Help Hannah’, Hannah?”
“I hate that damn name!” his potty-mouthed angel shrieked, then wheeled herself through the living room. The bedroom door, which crashed open at the force from the bottom of her chair, crashed shut again as soon as she’d wheeled herself over the threshold.
After giving him a sympathetic look, Clea made her way out the door, to the trailer, leaving Finn and Liz alone once again. It wasn’t the same. It would never be the same again.
“Liz, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Hannah Clea Robbins. Annie, to family.”
Chapter Nine
√ Buy perfume
√ Call Sybil
He went into Annie’s room to help her get ready for bed, but his little girl turned away from him, not wanting his help. He tried to talk to her, but she tuned him out. Still, he waited to make sure she was able to get herself changed and into bed. When he came out of the bedroom, Liz had moved to the front door, her purse in hand. He grabbed his car keys and followed her out.
She was silent as they left the farmhouse. Finn didn’t know if that was good or bad. “I’m going to go tell Gran I’m leaving for awhile so she can come back to the house. Take your car and follow mine.”
“Where are we going?”
He paused, thought. “To the beach.”
She seemed startled at first, disbelieving that he’d still want to continue this thing, then she realized his intention was to talk, to explain this shocker, and she nodded.
Liz waited in her car while he rapped on the trailer and stepped up and in. His grandmother was in her kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea. It was a scene he’d seen thousands of times. The normalcy of it comforted him.
“Gran, what happened at the camp? Why are you back?”
She placed the tea bag into her cup, then took the whistling teakettle from the stove and filled it, the steam billowing out around her.
“We couldn’t stay. The counselor who was in charge of Annie’s cabin broke her ankle tripping over some root or something just as foolish, and was taken to the hospital. They have a strict policy about children to counselor ratio in the cabin in case of emergencies. I even offered to stay in the cabin myself, but they didn’t seem to think me capable of getting four little girls in wheelchairs to safety in the case of a fire.”
Finn smiled, his money would have been on Gran in case of any emergency. As a father, though, he guessed he was grateful that the camp had such a strict policy. It made him feel justified about the agonizing decision he’d made to send Annie to the camp in the first place.
“Was she okay until then?”
Gran nodded. “Yes. At first she was her usually snippy self, but some of the other girls had even bigger chips on their shoulders, if you can imagine that. When she saw she couldn’t compete with them in the sass department, she settled down and started to enjoy herself. Then that klutz of a counselor had to go and fall and put the kibosh to the whole weekend.”
“So, three other girls had to go home, too?”
“Two stayed, their mothers sleeping in the cabin with them, but there were only beds for five in the wheelchair-accessible cabins, so one other girl and Annie went home. We flipped coins to see who’d go.” She sat at her kitchen table, bobbing the tea bag into the steaming cup.
“And did you win or lose the coin toss to be the ones to go home?”
She smiled. “Really, Finn, she was adjusting to it just fine. You did the right thing sending her, even if she did put up a holy terror about it. She made a big to-do about how lucky she was to lose the coin toss and go home, but she was pretty quiet on the ride back. I think she was disappointed, but of course, she’d never let on.”
“Of course not. Gran, I’m going to take Liz somewhere to talk. You think it’s okay to leave Annie? You think she’s really upset about not being able to stay?”
“I think she’s probably more upset about finding you with a woman. Go, have fun, take your time, I’ll check on her in a few minutes, make sure she’s asleep. I’ll stay over there until you get back. Stevie’s at that sleepover, right?”
“Right.”
Her keen eyes leveled on Finn. He felt like he was fourteen and trying to put something over on her. It hadn’t worked then, no reason to think it would work now. “Yes, I thought I had the place to myself for the night, the whole night, and I invited Liz over. There, happy, old woman? I was trying to have a little female companionship.”
She snorted. “About time, I’d say.” She took a long sip of tea. “I’m just sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Me too.”
“Well, I can get Annie going in the morning if you want?” The insinuation in her voice was clear. If he wanted to stay at Liz’s, she’d cover for him.
“She’s staying at her parents’ place. Thanks for the offer Gran, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“It was nice to see Elizabeth after all this time, I didn’t realize she was back in town.”
“She’s not. Not permanently. She’s here for a couple of months. She came to a movie.”
“Well at least one good thing came out of that crappy job.”
He laughed. “That’s the exact same thought I had, although I think I used something a little stronger than crappy.”
“I’m not surprised.” She took another long sip, measuring him as he still stood in the doorway. “Liz didn’t know about the kids, did she?”
He shook his head. “She knew about Stevie, she met him tonight. But no, she didn’t even know Annie existed, let alone...” he looked away from her, as though the knick-knack shelf in the corner suddenly needed his attention.
“You may need more than a couple of hours with Liz. Don’t worry, take your time. She was a good listener for you if I recall correctly.”
“You recall correctly,” he said and left the trailer.
He watched in his rearview mirror as Liz followed him to the beach. They’d plan
ned on going there the night they met at the Commodore. They’d finally get there now, but it wouldn’t be for the same purpose. When they’d both parked, he pulled a blanket out of the Jeep, took Liz’s hand and led her past the deserted public area to a small path on the other side of the dock. The path led to a secluded spot that they both remembered well.
They settled themselves on the blanket, Liz sitting up, hugging her legs to her chest, arms wrapped around them, watching the water from their hidden perch. Finn lay on his back, an arm thrown over his eyes, the other tucked under his head.
They’d sit like this for hours years ago, discussing everything, discussing nothing. Liz’s excitement about going off to State in the fall. Finn’s desire to take off for Texas as soon as Phoebe was old enough to leave behind. Horses, college, friends, siblings, parents, grandmothers. No subject was taboo, or even the slightest bit uncomfortable between them.
And now they sat, the silence deafening.
“Why don’t you just start at the beginning,” she softly prodded.
He’d tell her everything. Why the hell not. It wasn’t like Liz was sticking around. And it felt freeing somehow, to be able to tell the story of his life to someone who hadn’t seen it, someone who wasn’t shaking their head in disapproval over every mis-step he’d made.
He put his other arm behind his head, creating a pillow for himself, and freeing his eyes to watch her. To gauge her reactions. “The beginning of why Annie’s in a wheelchair, or the beginning of why there’s even an Annie?”
“I guess the true beginning would be Stevie, right?”
“No, the true beginning would be Dana.”
“Dana. Your wife.”
“Ex-wife,” he said.
“Right. Whatever. Go on.” Her voice was still soft in the quiet night, but he sensed an agitation in it that wasn’t there when she’d asked about his kids. Jealousy? Could she possibly be jealous over a woman she’d never met? A woman who hadn’t been in Finn’s life for years. The thought warmed him.
He took a deep breath and began to tell her about the past fifteen years. “I started dating Dana Paananen about three years after you and I dated. It was the summer after your junior year at State. The first summer you didn’t come home.”