Shelter from the Storm

by Samantha Sommersby

  Mac twisted the cap off and took several swallows before sighing contentedly. “I think I’m going to agree to disagree on that point.”

  Owen stopped crying. When the couple glanced back, they discovered Sara was gently rocking the car seat.

  Jennifer smiled. “Okay, let me have a sip.” She held out her hand.

  He lifted the bottle out of reach. “I thought you didn’t like it?”

  “Maybe I’ve changed my mind. Maybe you’re right.”

  “Oh, be still my heart!” He handed it to her.

  Jennifer tilted the bottle to her lips, taking a sip. “Blech! No. You’re definitely not right.”

  “Diet Coke?”

  Jennifer nodded.

  “Here.” Mac handed her the soda.

  “Thanks.”

  Owen started to fuss again.

  Mac set his beer down on the table, unbuckled Owen’s car seat and lifted the babe up, cradling him to his chest. “There, there, poppet.” He gently bounced up and down. “There’s nothing to cry about. Uncle Mac is here. Jennifer, can you serve me a slice of pizza?”

  “I’m on it.” Jennifer served plates for the three of them while Mac walked a path back and forth behind the sofa. “You all ready for the movie?”

  Sara nodded.

  “We men are ready. Aren’t we, Owen?”

  Jennifer inserted the DVD. Within a few seconds Owen’s crying ceased.

  They were halfway into the movie when Jennifer hopped up and started clearing the plates. “Anyone want anything else while I’m up?”

  “Can you get his bottle and the bag? He needs to be changed,” said Mac. “Do you want to help, kiddo?” Mac laid Owen down on the rug in front of the TV and then unsnapped the closure of his pajamas and pulled the babe’s feet out. “Look how tiny his toes are. You started out this small. You ever change a baby?”

  Sara shook her head, reached down, and with her fingertip she gently tickled the bottom of one of Owen’s feet. The sensation made him retract his leg and she pulled back, slightly alarmed.

  “He’s okay. It probably tickled.”

  Jennifer watched on as he guided Sara through the steps of changing Owen. She did an excellent job.

  “Here, you hold him while we go and wash our hands.” Mac tried to pass the child to Jennifer. “You can start feeding him.”

  “I don’t want to hold him.” Jennifer stepped back, quickly.

  Mac froze, stunned. “He’s not going to bite you. He doesn’t even have any teeth for heaven’s sake. I’ll just be ten feet away.”

  “I’ve never held a baby. I’m not sure how and I—”

  “Don’t be daft, it’s simple. Here.” Mac handed over the child, positioning Jennifer’s arms and hands around him. “You’re an intelligent woman with a college degree. You run your own business. You can hold a baby for two minutes, yeah?”

  “Okay.”

  The evening passed quickly. As the movie came to a close Owen resumed fussing.

  “I think he’s getting tired.” Mac tried walking with him again.

  Sara picked up the remote control for the television and changed the station.

  “One more hour until bedtime,” Jennifer declared.

  “Okay,” Sara said, absorbed in the show.

  Jennifer’s and Mac’s eyes met and he shook his head slightly. “I think I’m going to take Owen back to my room for a bit,” Mac said. “It’ll be darker, quieter, maybe he’ll fall asleep.”

  Jennifer sat down on the sofa next to Sara. Within minutes Sara had moved closer to her. Instinctively she wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulder. The two of them sat, cuddled together, and for the first time ever Jennifer watched the Powerpuff Girls.

  It was close to ten when Jennifer the intercom buzzed, its grating sound shattering the still silence of the apartment. She’d just finished dressing for bed. Sara was already down for the night and Mac and Owen had yet to re-emerge. She quickly donned a robe and went to let Rick in.

  “Sorry,” he said. “We’re a bit later than we expected.”

  “It’s okay. That means you were having fun, right?”

  “We had a fabulous time.”

  Jennifer waved him into the apartment. “I was still up. The boys are hanging out in Mac’s room.”

  Rick followed her into the hallway. She knocked softly on Mac’s door, then pushed it open. He was in his leather chair; legs sprawled out in front of him, head back. He had removed his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. Owen was draped across his chest, the babe’s tiny head resting in the crook of Mac’s neck. The two of them were fast asleep.

  “Looks like they wore one another out.” Jennifer smiled at the image.

  “I’ll tuck the little one in. You’re going to have to deal with the big one,” Rick whispered. He tiptoed over to the chair, carefully lifted his son off of Mac’s chest, and cradled him in his arms.

  Jennifer followed him back to the living room and watched as he placed Owen in his car seat and buckled him in.

  “I hope he wasn’t much of a bother.”

  “He was terrific.” She passed Rick the diaper bag. “Here’s all his stuff.”

  “Thanks.” Rick accepted the bag and moved toward the door. “We really appreciated this. Make sure to thank Mac for me.”

  “Will do, it was fun,” she said honestly before closing the door and turning out the remaining lights.

  As she walked by Mac’s room she paused. The only light on in the room was the one on his nightstand. She debated whether to wake him or to just turn off the light and let him sleep. Quietly, she entered and tiptoed over to the chair.

  His legs were sprawled out in front of him and parallel to the bedside table. Jennifer got as close as she could. Then she leaned over and flipped off the switch. When she turned to walk away, his hand reached out and encircled her wrist.

  With a gasp she looked toward him. But in the dark, she couldn’t see his face.

  Mac shifted in his chair and moved his legs, pulling her closer, until she stood between them.

  “Rick came and picked up Owen a few minutes ago. I was just turning out your light.”

  Wordlessly, he began to move his thumb in tiny circles across the back of her hand.

  Jennifer closed her eyes, giving in to the sensation.

  “Mac—”

  “Shh.” He buried his head in her stomach, nuzzling, inhaling her scent.

  She laced her fingers through his hair knowing if she let things go much further, there would be no turning back.

  Mac moved his hands to rest on either side of her hips. He was being patient, cautious, almost painfully so. A full minute passed, maybe two, before he slid his hand down and across her backside.

  For a moment, Jennifer held her breath.

  He lifted his head slightly, snaking his hands under her nightgown and caressing the globes of her bare ass.

  His hands were warm, his touch sure. Mac took the sash of her robe between his teeth and slowly pulled, until it opened. Then he guided her up, onto the chair so that she straddled his lap.

  It had been a long time, a very long time since she’d wanted a man as much as she wanted Mac. She knew he wanted her. His desire was patently evident. She could feel the hardness of him beneath her. Instead of following her instincts and telling him to stop, Jennifer moved against him in a rhythm that was slow and languid. She let his hands glide over her body, confident and sure. She wanted him to take in every curve, memorize every line.

  Mac traced the edge of her collarbone, his calloused fingertips dipping into the hollow of her neck before brushing over the tops of her breasts. She arched in to him, seeking out more of his touch, craving friction, yearning for something she thought she’d come to accept she’d never have. Mac tilted his hips up, grinding his erection between her legs.

  The silk robe she was wearing slid from her shoulders and puddled on the floor next to the chair. Jennifer closed her eyes.

  Mac had spent so many hours anticipat
ing this, he not only wanted to feel her, he wanted to see her. He reached back, extending his hand, searching for the pull cord to the blinds. Upon finding his target he yanked. Suddenly the room was painted in bands of light and dark. The pattern fell across Jennifer, illuminating her. Her eyes searched out his, wide and wondering.

  She opened her mouth to say something. This time he silenced her by placing his fingertips over her lips. His heart was racing but his movements were unhurried and deliberate. Mac reached up and slid down one thin strap of her nightgown, exposing a dusky nipple that made his mouth water. He sighed in appreciation before slipping the other strap off of her shoulder and easing her nightgown down until it was gathered at her waist.

  “Is this…okay?” he whispered, his throat suddenly dry. “Please, say it is. I want to touch you. I want to make love to you.”

  “I want that too, but I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Mac responded, his hand hovering over her left breast.

  “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”

  “This will change things between us. If we do this, there is no going back for me.”

  “What happens when I get to the point where I can’t take this any further? When it’s no longer enough for you? When I’m no longer enough for you?”

  Mac swallowed. She wasn’t ready, she was still hesitant. He slid her arms back into the straps of her nightgown and raised it up the length of her arms. As he settled the straps back on her shoulders he saw the hurt and confusion on her face. “Hold on.” Mac stood. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. He encircled her waist with one hand and pulled the bed covers back with the other before laying her down on the soft feather-top mattress.

  Mac gazed down at the tempting display. “What happens is we change, we grow, there is no limit.” Mac let his shirt fall to the floor, then stripped off his jeans. “We’re people. We evolve. We’re never done, unless we want to be.” He crawled in alongside of her, wearing only his boxers and pulled her toward him, wrapping one arm around her small waist and rubbing up and down the length of her back with the other.

  Her head rested on his chest and he could feel her breath as she softly inhaled and exhaled.

  “What happens when you get to the point where you can’t take it further?” he continued. “If you want to, if you believe it could be worth it, we’ll work together to get past that barrier.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “Did you not read the soddin’ book I gave you? It wasn’t long, for heaven’s sake.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  He rolled Jennifer over onto her back and brushed her hair back. “No. It’s not.” Mac leaned up on one elbow and propped his head up with his hand. “Look, I’m thirty years old. I’ve had my share of failed relationships and broken hearts. I want something real. I want something lasting. There is something about you that has reached out and grabbed my heart. I know this is fast, but there’s this connection between us. I can’t explain it. Frankly, I don’t need to. This past week, you’re all I thought about. I’m consumed by thoughts of you all day and I dream about you at night. I’m surrounded by your scent. I long for your touch. Jennifer, I’m drowning in you. And, God help me, I don’t want to be rescued.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As she woke, Jennifer sensed something was different. Or, maybe it was that everything was different. Mac’s warm body was wrapped protectively around hers. His arm was draped over her waist. His knees bent to follow the curve of hers. His hand innocently cupped her breast. Last night they’d held one another and talked, endlessly, about everything and nothing. When she’d finally drifted off, she didn’t know. But she’d slept like a baby in his arms. There was so much to be afraid of, uncertain about, but one thing was undeniable. She couldn’t go backward either. She inhaled deeply and her eyes fluttered open.

  Sara gasped and Jennifer’s attention was immediately drawn to her. She was standing there, at the side of Mac’s bed, her bear in hand, staring down at the two of them. Tear-stained tracks covered her delicate face.

  Jennifer shifted slightly and lifted her head off the pillow. “Sara? What’s wrong?”

  A sob escaped Sara’s lips and she lifted her hand to muffle it. Mac opened his eyes and leaned up to peer over Jennifer. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t know.” Jennifer held her hand out to Sara. “I woke up and she was here, crying. What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why didn’t you wake me?”

  Sara reached out with a trembling hand. “You were so still. You weren’t moving. I was… I was afraid you’d be cold.”

  Jennifer pulled Sara closer to the bed and lifted the edge of the covers. “I’m fine. Mac and I are snug as bugs. You’re the one freezing. Climb in.”

  Wordlessly Sara climbed under the covers.

  “Sara,” Mac said. “Did you mean you were afraid we were dead?”

  “Oh God!” Jennifer exclaimed. “Is that what you thought?”

  Sara buried her head in Jennifer’s breast and began to weep, heartfelt, gut-wrenching sobs.

  “Please don’t cry,” Jennifer said, moved to tears herself. “Mac and I are both fine.”

  “She needs to cry. She needs to grieve. This isn’t about us. It’s about your Mum.”

  Too choked up to speak, Jennifer nodded.

  “It’s okay for you to cry. This is your loss, too.” Mac wiped at his own eyes before turning to look at the clock. “Bugger!”

  “What is it?” Jennifer asked.

  “I’m going to be late. Someone distracted me from setting the alarm last night. I’ve got a football game this morning. Maybe I should cancel.”

  “Go. We’ll be good.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Sara looked up. “You’re coming back?”

  “Always,” Mac said. He smoothed Sara’s hair and leaned over to kiss Jennifer’s bare shoulder.

  Jennifer reached for Mac’s hand. “I have to do some work with Rachel today. She and Tom invited us over for dinner, just burgers and such. You available?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He quickly climbed out of bed and slid on a pair of jeans. “Leave the address and time on my voice mail. I’ll meet you there.” He ran over to his dresser and pulled out a sweatshirt. “Sorry, I’ve got to run like this. I’ll see you both later?”

  “We’ll see you later.”

  Mac grabbed his workout bag from the closet then raced out of the apartment.

  Sara and Jennifer lay side by side in his bed for what seemed like an eternity.

  “It’s nice in here,” Jennifer said finally. “Cozy.”

  Sara nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, why is it so hard for you to talk?” Jennifer asked. “I mean, I get that being kind of invisible around Cliff would have its advantages. But Mac and I aren’t Cliff.”

  “It’s my fault,” Sara whispered.

  “What’s your fault?”

  “Mom. Her dying was my fault.”

  Jennifer sat up. “Sara, Mom was depressed, she was really troubled, even long before you. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

  “But I wished it.” Sara started sobbing even more intensely than before. “I wished it!”

  “Wished what? I don’t understand, Sara. What did you wish?”

  “She was yelling at me, because I told her I needed new shoes. They… What I had didn’t fit anymore. They hurt. She yelled she didn’t have the money. But she had enough money for her booze. She always had money for that. Know what I mean?”

  Jennifer nodded. She knew all too well. “She was an alcoholic, Sara.”

  “She was opening up a brand new bottle. The living room was filled again with empty ones. All she’d been doing since Cliff left was drinking and sleeping. I was hungry, there was no money for dinner, no money for me to do laundry.”

  “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

  “I screamed at her. I told her I hated my life,
hated her.”

  “That’s understandable, sweetie. Moms are supposed to take care of their kids. Ours…well, she couldn’t.”

  “I told her I wished she were dead.”

  Jennifer swallowed.

  “And she did it, that day, while I was at school. When I came home, I found her. I don’t deserve to talk. Bad things happen. I’m bad! What did I do?”

  “You are not responsible for Mom killing herself. She’s tried at least a half a dozen times over the years. It wasn’t about the shoes. It wasn’t about you. It was always about her. Mom was sick, Sara. Alcoholism is a disease.”

  “A disease?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I catch it, like a cold?”

  Jennifer smiled. “No, not like a cold. I’m not Mom. Neither are you. Our lives can be different, we have to make them different.”

  “How?”

  “Truthfully? I’m not sure. I don’t have all of the answers. I’m just…” Jennifer sighed. “I’m not sure. But we’ll find our way, together. We’ll keep trying until we get it right.”

  “Maybe we could get some help?” Sara asked. “Ask someone smart what we’re supposed to do?”

  Jennifer gave Sara a squeeze. “Yes, Sara, we’ll do that.”

  “H’lo,” Mac answered.

  “Hey, I was calling back to make sure you got my message earlier. Rachel and I are about to wrap things up for the day. How was the game?” Jennifer asked, cheerfully.

  “Game?”

  “Are you okay? You sound funny.”

  “Sorry. I’m…I’m completely pissed. I’ve screwed up.”

  “You don’t sound mad, you sound—”

  “Drunk. Pissed is drunk.”

  “Oh.” After a long pause she asked, “Why are you drunk?”

  “Long story. I think I need to take a rain check on dinner. Give my regrets to everyone. Maybe I should crash at Uncle Henry’s for the night.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At a bar, downtown. Came here with some mates after the game for lunch. We had a couple beers to celebrate the win. Then I stayed to work at catching up on mail, found the letter, and switched to scotch.”

  “Letter?”