by J. J. Murray
He approached the counter. “I’m all present and accounted for. I’m sweaty, though. I need another shower, and I’ll need to do more laundry afterward . . .” He raised his eyebrows.
“We might not stay open past nine now.” She offered him a cup of coffee.
“Good.” He took the cup. “How about eight-thirty?”
“Maybe.” She nodded toward the door. “Go open us.”
“My pleasure.” He went to the door and flipped the sign. “Now what do I do?”
“Work your case,” Angela said.
“It’s six AM, Angela,” Matthew said. “I don’t want to wake anyone up.”
“Dr. Penn keeps early hours,” she said.
“He does, does he?”
Angela nodded.
“I’ll give him a call.” He returned to the booth, noticed only two battery bars on his cell phone, and dialed Dr. Penn’s number.
“Good morning, Matthew,” Dr. Penn said. “What’s it look like down your way?”
Matthew smiled at Angela. It actually looks beautiful. “The streets haven’t been touched. How about you?”
“Nothing yet,” Dr. Penn said. “The snowshoes came in mighty handy last night. Twenty-six inches. Incredible.”
“Were you able to see Timothy?” Matthew asked.
“Yes.”
“How’d it go?” Matthew asked.
“In my professional opinion,” Dr. Penn said, “Timothy has a strong case, one of the strongest I’ve seen for a soldier who didn’t see combat. As an anesthetist in any other war, he would have been stationed on or near the battlefield to do his job at a MASH or Combat Support Hospital. I believe Timothy has a classic case of PTSD, and I willing to attest to that in court.”
Good. “How is Mrs. Simmons?”
“She is a rock,” Dr. Penn said. “Given time and the proper therapy, both of them will make it through this. Where should I send my findings?”
“Well, I obviously don’t want you to come over to Angela’s today,” Matthew said.
Angela raised her eyebrows.
“She’s open?” Dr. Penn asked.
“Yes, we’re open,” Matthew said. “Regular time. No customers yet, of course, but you never know.”
“And you’re there now,” Dr. Penn said.
“Yes, I’m open for business, too, Doc.”
“How is she?” Dr. Penn asked. “I meant to call her yesterday during the storm.”
Matthew smiled at Angela. “She’s good. She’s very good.”
Angela bit her lower lip and turned away, heading into the kitchen.
She is the best flirt! “Dr. Penn,” Matthew said softly, “Angela told me about what happened to her four years ago.”
“I hoped she might,” Dr. Penn said. “How do you feel about it?”
“Her telling me or what happened to her?” Matthew asked.
“Both,” Dr. Penn said.
Matthew exhaled. “I don’t know, privileged she told me and mad as hell that it happened to her. I still don’t have all the specifics.”
“And we may never know them all because Angela may never tell us,” Dr. Penn said. “The assault itself was sudden, unexpected, and unpredictable, and how and if she reveals anything to us may come just as suddenly and unexpectedly.”
“Does she have PTSD?” Matthew asked.
“I believe so, yes,” Dr. Penn said.
Matthew sighed. “So there’s no telling how long this will last.”
“You’re right,” Dr. Penn said. “There’s no telling. The mind is as sturdy as it is fragile, Matthew. What we have to do is keep what’s sturdy strong and rebuild what’s fragile. Her isolation seems to be ending because of you, and it might scare her and thrill her at the same time. She feels strong and fragile at the same time. Do you understand?”
“I’ve seen it in action, Doc. It’s . . .” He shook his head. “Honestly, it’s sometimes spooky how she can be sweet then sour from one day to the next, even from one moment to the next. She’s consistently inconsistent.”
“That’s an accurate description of anyone suffering from PTSD,” Dr. Penn said. “But take heart, Matthew. Your friendship has obviously already done wonders for her. You are the first person she has allowed into her isolated world in four years.”
“You, too, right?” Matthew asked.
“Not nearly as much as you,” Dr. Penn said. “She sees me as a means to an end, a potential cure. She truly sees you as a friend.”
Matthew smiled. “I’m more than a friend to her, Dr. Penn. I’m not sure exactly what I am, but I know I’m more than a friend.”
“Do you love her, Matthew?” Dr. Penn asked.
Why’d he have to ask that? “I honestly don’t know.”
“Could you love her?” Dr. Penn asked.
“Yes. Easily. I’ve never met anyone like her. I think I have a crush on her. I’m a grown man with a crush. What’s that say about me?”
“That you’re romantic,” Dr. Penn said.
“Maybe.”
“Angela is making all sorts of breakthroughs,” Dr. Penn said.
“Mrs. Simmons said Angela was at her apartment the other night.”
“We’ve been out twice together,” Matthew said. “Pizza the first time.”
“Pizza!” Dr. Penn shouted. “Oh, I could use some, but no one’s open and probably won’t be for a few days. All this is remarkable, truly remarkable, Matthew. You know, you could have a career in counseling, counselor.”
“I’m not trying to replace you, Doc,” Matthew said. “I have a feeling Angela still needs you.”
“And I’ll be here,” Dr. Penn said. “I want to caution you, though, Matthew. It may take Angela a long time to recover, and she may never fully recover. How do you feel about that?”
“I’d do anything for her,” Matthew said. “I care about her more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.” Wow. Why are my eyes tearing up?
“Love is the best therapy,” Dr. Penn said.
“I don’t know if it’s love, Doc,” Matthew said, rubbing his eyes.
“It sounds like love to me,” Dr. Penn said.
It can’t be love yet, can it? My eyes certainly seem to think so. “In your considered opinion as a psychiatrist.”
“No, in my considered opinion as a man,” Dr. Penn said. “I knew you were a good man the moment I met you.”
Angela returned to the counter with a tray of turnovers.
“Listen, Dr. Penn,” Matthew said quickly, wiping his eyes, “why don’t you e-mail your findings to me as an attachment, and I’ll print it out at my end when I can.” He gave Dr. Penn his e-mail address. “I’d also like you to e-mail your findings to Dr. William Wick at the VA.”
“You mean Major William Wick, don’t you?” Dr. Penn said.
“He was a major?” Matthew asked.
“In the U.S. Army, yes sir,” Dr. Penn said.
Dr. Wick was or is still a soldier. How, then, can he be so cold to other soldiers?
“I know I have his e-mail address around here somewhere,” Dr. Penn said. “I’ll send him my findings today. Give my best to Angela.”
“I will.”
“Stay warm,” Dr. Penn said.
“I will.” Matthew closed his phone.
Angela brought over a plate of turnovers. “You aren’t coming down with a cold, are you?”
“No.” I only did a little crying. I can’t remember the last time I cried. “It might be allergies. I’m okay. Dr. Penn sends his best.”
“How’s he doing?” She slid in beside him.
Matthew bit into a turnover. Is it okay to say that food is orgasmic? This turnover is orgasmic. “He sounds great. He’s snowed in like the rest of us. He says Timothy has a strong case.”
“That’s good,” Angela said. “What did you mean when you said I was very good?”
“You’re a very good person in every respect,” Matthew said, “and you were a very good blanket last night. And you’re also a very g
ood flirt. When you bite your lip like that, I get all tingly inside.”
She laughed. “Maybe I’m not flirting.” She rubbed his thigh. “Maybe I’m on the prowl.”
“Are you?” Please say you are.
She looked outside. “I’m thinking we can close at seven-thirty now.”
Matthew wolfed down the rest of his turnover. “I should probably get in the shower now then, huh?”
Angela squeezed his thigh. “You know, I could close . . . now.” “You just opened,” Matthew said.
“I know.” She bit her lower lip.
“You’re doing that biting of the lip thing,” Matthew said.
“I know.” She bit her lower lip again.
“There it is again,” Matthew said. “My tinglings are turning to stirrings.”
“I think I will close.” Angela ran to the front door and locked it, flipped the sign, and turned out the dining room lights.
Matthew met her at the counter, and they raced through the kitchen and up the stairs to the apartment.
Angela stopped him at the top of the stairs. “I want you to watch what I do very carefully.”
“You have my undivided attention.”
Angela kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks, tossing them onto the couch. She took two steps into the kitchen and took off her pants, leaving them in a heap. She pulled off her sweater and threw it behind her. She reached under her T-shirt and removed her bra, letting it drop as she entered her bedroom.
She turned to Matthew at the foot of her bed. “Were you watching?”
Matthew nodded. That was a show I could get used to seeing every day. I especially liked the bra removal trick.
“I’d take off more but I’m freaking cold,” she said, rubbing her arms.
“I understand completely,” Matthew whispered. “I like what I see completely, too.”
Angela pulled back the covers and got into bed. “Hurry,” she whispered.
Matthew hurried to take his shower, because once again, there was no hot water. He pulled on his boxers and joined her, and as he did, she crept on top of him.
“You smell better,” she said, rubbing his chest. “But I need to warm you up.”
“I’m definitely warming up, thank you.” He kissed her. “Should I hold you again?”
Angela slid beside him, and Matthew turned to face her. “Do you want me, Matthew?”
“Yes,” he said. “With all my soul.”
“I like you wanting me. I want you, too, but . . . but please understand. I’m . . .” She sighed. “I’m afraid of... of being out of control, of losing control. What happened to me damaged me badly. I’m starting to realize how badly because of you. I want you so bad I can taste you in my heart. Please believe that. But the moment I think that, I think about that night and . . .” She blinked away a tear. “I can’t get that night out of my head, Matthew. I know you’d never hurt me, I do, and that gives me so much strength. You’re so gentle, so . . .” She shook her head. “I’m so messed up, aren’t I?”
“No.” He caressed her face. “You’re a survivor.”
“I don’t feel like one,” she said. “I’m still afraid of him being out there.”
“I’m here now, right?”
“Yes, you are, and I thank God you’re here,” Angela said. “But I’m still messed up. We should be making sweet love to each other on our snow day. Right?”
Well... “I like talking to you, too.” He rubbed her arm. “We could talk instead.”
“What would we talk about that would keep our minds off making love to each other?” Angela asked.
Yes. What would we talk about while lying side by side and barely dressed in a cozy, full-size bed? “Oh, life, the future, you know, everything. Anything.” He felt down the contour of her side to her hip. “As long as I can touch you while we talk, we can talk for the next twenty-four hours. You have so many interesting places to touch.” He caressed her thigh. “I like this thigh.”
“It likes you, too.” She smiled. “Turn onto your back.”
Matthew lay on his back.
Angela crept up and propped her head up on her hands, her elbows resting on his chest. “Now I can see you better.”
He wormed his hand under her shirt and rubbed her back. “And I can give you a one-handed backrub.”
“You figured me out,” she said. “What do two people talk about for twenty-four hours that doesn’t involve sex?”
“We could try a little Q and A,” Matthew said. “I’ll ask a question, you answer. You ask a question, I’ll answer. You go first.”
Angela squinted then opened her eyes wide. “Do you like children, Mr. McConnell?”
“Sure,” Matthew said. “My turn. How many children do you want?”
“Two,” Angela said. “A girl and a boy, in that order. You?”
“That sounds good,” Matthew said. “Do you have your children named?”
“No, not yet,” Angela said. “Do you?”
“No.” I have to ask more probing questions. “How soon do you want these unnamed children running around here?”
Angela didn’t answer immediately. “Not nine months or even a year—or two—from now, not until I’m sure of our financial future. Do you mind if we don’t get intimate until we’re sure of each other and our futures?”
“I must be honest here,” Matthew said. “I do mind, because I can’t resist stroking and rubbing and kissing your body, and I have a feeling you like me stroking, rubbing, and kissing you.”
“I do,” she whispered. “Very much.”
He slipped his hand down her back, finding the edge of her underwear and sneaking his hand under it. “You like this.”
Angela moved higher. “Very much.”
“Isn’t this being intimate?” Matthew asked.
Angela nodded.
He squeezed. “And neither of is sure of our futures at this moment.”
Angela climbed up on him. “Use both hands.”
Matthew kneaded and squeezed her booty. “Like this?”
“Yes.” She kissed him. “But we can’t go further than this. For now.”
Matthew sat up. “I understand.” He kissed her neck and pulled her into his lap. “As long as we don’t arrive at the natural conclusion.”
Angela nodded.
He smiled. “I can think of so many things we could do without going that far.”
“So can I.” She kissed his chin. “I just don’t know if I can trust myself to stop.”
“We’ll create a contract and seal it with a kiss,” Matthew said.
“Okay.” She smiled. “You say it, and I’ll sign it.”
“We agree not to make love to each other until we’re financially secure and completely secure with each other,” Matthew said. “How’s that?”
She kissed him. “It’s a contract.” She smiled. “I can’t believe I’m here in this bed with you.”
“Why?” Matthew asked.
“I didn’t think I could compete with the women you usually go out with,” Angela said.
He ran his hands up her sides, squeezing and feeling her hot flesh. “There’s no competition. You’ve won. I think you’re incredibly sexy.”
“I’m not sexy at all,” Angela said.
He shook his head. “Angela, you have the brightest smile, the softest lips, the nicest initials, the smoothest skin, the firmest muscles, and the sexiest booty.”
“Matthew, I’m not exotic or tall or thin or endowed or tattooed or pierced, and I’m so much darker than—”
“Angela, you are perfect,” Matthew interrupted. He lifted her shirt and smiled at her breasts. “Sexy.”
She pushed down her shirt. “I’m not. I’m a plain Williamsburg woman who only has a high school education.”
“There’s nothing plain about you. Your ears are perfect.” He kissed each one. “Not too big, not too small. I have never seen such symmetry. Your hands are not too soft, not too rough, and so strong.” He kissed each
palm. “You hold me so fiercely. I like to be held tight. And your skin is warm, smooth, and firm. If you have an ounce of fat on you, I haven’t found it yet. And your smile is so sexy, especially when you act shy.”
“I don’t act shy,” Angela said. “I am shy.”
“Shyness is sexy to me,” Matthew said. “Shyness also tells me you’re humble. You’re not stuck up or vain in any way. You are nothing like the women I’ve been wasting my time with. And . . .” He kissed her neck. “You taste good all over. But what I like the most is that your eyes only see me. I’m not used to that. You’re not distracted by anything. You focus on me. You hear me, and you even listen to me some of the time.”
“Most of the time,” she said.
He locked his fingers with hers. “Angela, I never knew how lonely I was until I saw your smile. I left here every night with an incredible ache in my heart. I missed your smile. I would do anything to see you smile.”
Angela smiled. “I’m smiling now.”
“Thank you.”
“I just worry that when the time comes,” Angela said, “I won’t be able to please you completely.”
Matthew shook his head. “I have no doubt that you will be able to send me into paroxysms of ecstasy.” He pulled her closer, moving her legs around him. “I have no doubt that you can rock my socks off.” He wiggled his toes. “See. You’ve already knocked off my socks.”
“But when we finally become one,” Angela said, “I want to be able to be with you in every way possible. I guess you’ve already noticed that I feel safer on top. I feel safe now.” She looked down. “But even when I’m on top of you, I get claustrophobic sometimes. I fight back the covers. I have to have my arms free.”
“Did you feel that way last night?” Matthew asked.
“No,” she said. “Last night you held me gently. You didn’t restrain me. I felt safe. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe.”
Matthew glanced at the nightstand. “Will I replace the hammer and the Taser?”
“Not yet,” Angela said. “I hope you’re not mad.”
“I’m not.” He kissed her. “You are so pretty.”
“But I’m not,” Angela said. “Don’t you wish I had longer legs?”
“No.” He stroked both of her thighs.