To Love You More

by Wayne Jordan

  The decisions she’d made long ago were now back to bite her in the ass, and already it was painful.

  She walked down the hallway. Gregory would be asleep. Years ago, she’d go into his room and sit next to his bed and watch him while he slept. She’d been amazed at how precious he was, especially when she’d almost lost him in childbirth. Her labor had not been easy and eventually she’d had a cesarean delivery.

  Her visits to his room at night had lessened over the years, but on occasion she would find herself entering his room, watching him as he slept and thanking God for him.

  When she reached his bedroom, she eased the door open and stepped inside. The white rays of the full moon allowed her to see his face, so much like George’s.

  Love, big and powerful, swelled inside her. She loved Gregory like she loved nothing else.

  She just hoped that George wouldn’t want to take him from her.

  Chapter 12

  When Rachel walked into the kitchen, Gregory was eating a sandwich made with about five slices of bread.

  “Mom, I told Gregory not to eat. He’s going to want hot dogs and popcorn at the cinema and we’ll probably be going for pizza afterward.”

  “Rachel, he’s a growing boy. He needs to eat. You see how active he is. When you were his age you had a healthy appetite too. My grocery bill was high.”

  Gregory laughed. “See, Mom. I’m a growing boy.” He gobbled the last of the sandwich, stood and flexed his biceps.

  “You go get your shoes. George should soon be here.”

  “Why are we going out with him anyway?” he said, pouting.

  She hadn’t expected the question, but, thinking quickly, she replied, “I’ve told you already. We went to school together. I’m trying to make contact with my friends. He was my best friend at school. You told me you were all right with us hanging out together.”

  “Okay,” he replied, looking at her suspiciously. He turned and left the room.

  “You have your work cut out for you,” Grace observed. “He’s at the age when any man will be a threat to his relationship with you. Give him time.”

  “I know. I need time too. I’m trying to take things one day at a time. I’m not sure how much I can trust George.”

  “Rachel, you know George. You loved him once. Stop imagining what he could be and think of the man you knew. He may be older, more mature, but inside he’s the same man you knew. And from what I know he was a good person. I don’t know what he was battling with when he called off your engagement, but maybe it was for the better. You’re both older now. You should be able to deal with a relationship better.”

  Before Rachel could respond, the doorbell rang.

  There was the sound of footsteps racing down the hallway and toward the door.

  Rachel smiled at her mother, counted to ten and walked out of the kitchen.

  There was no turning back.

  * * *

  George pressed the doorbell and stood waiting for a response. He’d told Rachel six o’clock, so he knew she’d be ready. His heart was beating fast. He couldn’t believe a whole week had passed since he’d kissed her right here on the patio.

  The door flew open and his son stood there, eyeing him with a bored curiosity.

  George didn’t usually find himself at a loss for words, but that was his current experience.

  “Hi,” his son said.

  “Hi,” he replied.

  “My mom’s soon going to be here. She’s ready. She was just waiting until I ate my sandwich, brushed my teeth and put my shoes on.”

  “Cool. I hope you like the movie we’re going to see,” he said. He noticed Rachel walking down the hallway. Damn, she’s beautiful, he thought. He felt his body stir with excitement.

  “I’m sure I will. I’ve wanted to see the latest Harry Potter movie for ages. I’ll go and let Mom know you’re here.”

  “I’m here, honey,” Rachel said, coming to stand behind him. “I’m ready to go when you are,” she said to George.

  “Good, let’s go. We still have forty-five minutes to get there. I just want to be there in time to go to the concession stand so we can get my hot dogs and popcorn.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Gregory said.

  Rachel groaned. “You can’t be hungry already. You just ate a humongous sandwich.”

  George watched as his son slipped out the door, chuckling as he did. He waited until Rachel exited the house and closed the door behind her. The whiff of her delicate perfume tickled his nostrils. She smelled good! He didn’t like what she was doing to his libido.

  A few minutes later they were driving along the ABC Highway. It was a Saturday evening so the traffic was light. Thanks to Gregory, who kept up a lively chatter, the discomfort he had been experiencing slowly dissipated. Yet he was strongly aware of the woman sitting next to him.

  She seemed calm, but on occasion, when he shifted gears, his hand touched her leg and he noticed the slight stiffening of her body.

  When they arrived at the Olympus Multiplex Cinema, Gregory immediately saw one of his friends. On return from greeting them he said, “Dominic and his family are going to watch the same movie. Can we sit with them?”

  “Sure,” Rachel and George said simultaneously. Rachel glanced across at George, a slight scowl on her face.

  He realized what he’d done. He would apologize later, but already he was feeling the fatherly instinct. For a while he needed to put it under control. He’d promised Rachel he would give Gregory time to adjust to his being around. He suspected it wouldn’t be easy. The boy was suspicious of him and protective of his mother.

  At the concession stand, Gregory requested his two hot dogs and a large bag of popcorn, raising his brow when George ordered the same thing for himself.

  For the next two hours they sat enchanted and thrilled by the magic of Harry Potter.

  After the movie ended, Gregory asked if Dominic could go with them to Chefette.

  “Of course,” George replied before Rachel could respond. “I’ll check to make sure it’s fine with his parents.”

  Dominic’s parents consented, but he could tell that Rachel wasn’t totally happy with that. It meant that while the boys were occupied with each other, she would be forced to chat with him.

  Good. There were lots of questions he wanted to ask her about Gregory, things he wanted to learn.

  When they reached the restaurant, the boys rushed out of the car. He couldn’t believe they were still hungry. They’d settled on pizza and he gave them the money to purchase one, along with additional drinks for him and Rachel.

  Inside, he led her to an empty table for two. “Let’s give the boys their privacy,” he said. “They can sit over there.” He pointed at a table across from them.

  She just nodded, surprising him with her easy compliance.

  She sat opposite him, daintily, he suspected in hope that the physical contact would be minimal.

  She remained quiet, her eyes focused on where the boys stood waiting in the pickup line. The pizza would take about twenty minutes, so he planned on using it wisely.

  “When was he born, Rachel?” he asked.

  “February 25, he’s almost thirteen,” she replied. “He was a very healthy seven pounds, four ounces.”

  “I want information about my son, but it doesn’t mean you have to rattle off all these facts for me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I am still sensitive about this situation.”

  “Just tell me about him,” he said. “Please.” He didn’t want to beg, but he wanted to hear about his son.

  She didn’t realize how much her not telling him had hurt. He’d missed so much of Gregory’s life. Days she could never give him back.

 
“He was a good baby.” Her voice was whimsical. “Always content as long as I fed him. He hardly cried. I’d feed him and put him down next to me and he’d play by himself and whenever I looked in on him, he would smile at me and go back to sleep. He took his first step when he was nine months.”

  “Mom,” Gregory interrupted. “Here are your drinks. You’re sure you don’t want any pizza?”

  “Yes, we’re sure,” Rachel replied.

  “But we can’t eat it all,” Dominic said.

  “Oh, yes, we can,” Gregory interrupted.

  George couldn’t help but laugh.

  He watched as the boys headed to their table, his son strutting with arrogant confidence.

  Damn, the boy was so much like him…even his walk.

  “You can’t deny he’s your son, can you?” she commented.

  “Nope. I knew from the first time I saw him. If I were to show you a photo of me at that age, you’d think it was Gregory. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you. It must have been difficult being alone.”

  She did not respond at first, just continued to stare at him.

  “Edward was there,” she said. Her words cut deep, but that was the reality. He had not been there and he only had himself to blame. He’d been the one to push her away.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she said, her face red with embarrassment.

  “But it’s true. I wish I could change a lot of things I did back then. I can only try to rectify them now. I promise you that you won’t regret coming back home and letting me be a part of Gregory’s life. You could have remained in Anguilla, but you came back, knowing that someday I would find out. We’re both lawyers, your mother and I are friends, so it would have been inevitable.”

  He could tell she was at a loss for words, but he had meant each word.

  “I don’t have a problem with that. He is at that age when a boy needs his father. He’s somewhat curious about you now, but I can see he’s softening a bit. At least he doesn’t look like he’ll growl at you anymore.”

  George looked across at where Gregory sat with his friend. The pizza box was already empty. He smiled. Dominic seemed to have done just fine keeping up with his son.

  At the same time Gregory looked over and saw him. For a moment they stared at each other, and then Gregory smiled and nearly broke his heart.

  The rest of the night seemed brighter, happier. When they were driving Dominic home, the boys sang a repertoire of local and international hits. He joined in, not realizing that he knew the words to some of the songs.

  He dropped Dominic home and then headed east along the ABC Highway. Gregory had fallen asleep and Rachel sat with her head against the seat, her eyes closed.

  “You’re all right?” he asked.

  “I’m tired,” she responded, her voice strained.

  “Pain?” he asked.

  “A little, but nothing my medication won’t help. We’ll soon be home. I’ll survive.”

  She rested her head back again, closing her eyes. Even in her discomfort, she was still the most beautiful woman he knew. He’d been crazy to let her go. He knew that now. This time he would do it right. He had to gain her trust again and then he’d show her how much he loved her.

  He turned into their cul-de-sac and pulled up in front of the house.

  Rachel reached behind, shaking Gregory awake. He woke slowly.

  “Are we home?” he asked drowsily.

  “Yes, you go on up and take your shower. I’ll come tuck you in.”

  “Mom!”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you didn’t want George to know you still like to be tucked in.”

  “It’s cool, Gregory,” he said. “My mom tucked me in when I was your age. I didn’t call it ‘being tucked in,’ but it was our special time together when I could ask her anything I wanted to.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t bothered about that,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but George knew better.

  “I’ll see you when you come in, Mom. Mr. Simpson, thanks for taking us out and letting my friend Dominic join us.”

  “No problem, son. I enjoyed the evening. We must do it again.”

  “Sure,” Gregory replied cheerfully as he stepped out of the car and ran inside.

  “I’d like to say thanks for the night. He enjoyed himself.”

  “And didn’t you?” George asked. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her lips. He wanted to kiss her.

  “I should go in now,” she said, but she didn’t move.

  “You should,” he replied, leaning toward her.

  She turned to look at him.

  He moved his lips to hers, touching them gently at first, waiting for her response.

  She responded like a flower opening. Her lips parted, allowing him entry. She groaned, exciting him with the sound of pleasure. He hated that they were in the car; he wanted to feel her against him, his body pressed against her softness.

  When he deepened the kiss, becoming harder and more demanding, her own response changed as she demanded of him.

  And then she pulled away, her breathing labored.

  “I have to go,” she gushed as she opened the door and stepped out.

  She walked quickly, stopping at the door briefly before she opened it and entered.

  She did not look back. Instead, the light on the outside went off, leaving him to stare into the darkness.

  * * *

  Rachel closed the door behind her, flicking the light switch off, leaving the patio in darkness. She walked to the window. His car was still there.

  Then the engine started and he drove away.

  She’d wanted him tonight. She’d wanted him. How could she be so foolish? Hadn’t she learned from her past with him? But she had no control over her feelings for George. She had never been in control around him. Her love for him had come as naturally as the summer rains. Yes, she’d resisted him for a while, but falling for him had been inevitable.

  She had looked beyond the brash, arrogant exterior and discovered the gentle, sensitive man underneath. He had tempted her with his gentle touch and she became his.

  She moved away from the window and headed down the hallway. Her son was waiting for her.

  Chapter 13

  For the next week, George spent most of his free time with Rachel and Gregory. Though Rachel felt more comfortable in his presence, there was still the slight niggling of mistrust. She was slowly falling in love with him again. Not like the last time when she had fallen head over heels in love. This time felt better, more mature, as if they were both dealing with their involvement with a lot more caution.

  That did not mean, however, that the fire was not there. In fact, the heat between them continued to intensify. At times, his eyes would caress her with the gentlest of glances; at others, they would smother her with burning flames.

  She enjoyed her times with him and Gregory, especially on Sundays, when he would take them to explore the island, allowing her to see the startling changes that had taken place in the years she’d been away.

  Frequently, her nights would end with them watching a movie—like tonight—or talking about their cases. Tonight was the end of her last week at home. Tomorrow she would be returning to work, an event she was looking forward to. The weeks of inactivity were driving her crazy.

  She’d just sent Gregory up to bed as the final credits of her all-time favorite movie, The Lion King, scrolled up the screen. He had not wanted to go, despite his drooping eyes. His attachment to George was scary. She realized that she was slowly losing a part of him to his father. She knew that soon she would tell Gregory the truth, something she welcomed despite her reservations.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked G
eorge. “A soda? A beer? Tea?”

  “Water would be fine,” George replied.

  “I just need to go up to check on Mom and Gregory first. In fact, the kitchen is just down that corridor. Second door on the left.”

  “I’ll get it. Do you want something to drink too?” he asked as she walked in the opposite direction.

  “I’m fine. I’ll make tea for myself when I came back down.”

  * * *

  George watched as she walked down the corridor before he headed to the kitchen.

  The kitchen was definitely a woman’s world. Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen had been decorated in a dark pink. Not his color, or the kind of color he associated with Rachel, but then he remembered that the house was her mother’s and Grace was definitely the frilly, feminine type.

  He found several bottles of water but decided to settle for tea too. After a brief search, he found an electric kettle, filled it with water and turned it on.

  By the time Rachel walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, her tea was steeping and he was almost done with his first cup. A hot cup of Earl Grey was a lot more appealing than water.

  “You settled for tea?” she asked.

  “Yes, didn’t know you would have Earl Grey. That’s the only tea I drink.”

  “Never saw you as a tea person,” she teased.

  “I do have a preference for Blue Mountain coffee, but it’s pretty expensive here. I only drink it on very rare occasions. Earl Grey is a reasonable substitute.”

  “I put coffee to rest after my studying days were over. I had become too addicted so I decided it would be for the better.” She paused. “You want to go back into the living room or stay here?”

  “Here is fine,” he responded, indicating the stool next to him.

  There was an awkward silence. She remained standing.

  The tension in the room cracked like logs in a fireplace.

  “Come and sit next to me,” he insisted.

  She hesitated briefly but then sat on the stool opposite, her posture erect.

  “What are you scared about, Rachel?” he asked, his voice low and husky.