Widow on the Loose

by Stevie MacFarlane

  She hadn’t advertised. She only had so many spots and wanted to make them available to kids from the community, kids whose parents were struggling. It wasn’t about the money; it was about giving back and opening doors.

  Jeannie was a godsend and she and Charlie were settled in their apartment. She’d been dating Jackson for about a month and it made Claire happy to think Charlie might get a daddy, a good one. On a personal and gut wrenching level Claire knew how important a loving daddy could be, even at her age. She pushed the thought away and got up.

  Her apartment was lovely. Spacious, it was warm and inviting even though very sparsely furnished. Claire didn’t care. All of her time and energy had gone into the day care. Working until she fell into bed each night exhausted helped keep thoughts of Travis at bay.

  They’d seen each other a couple of times, but Claire avoided being alone with him. When he stopped by with papers for her to sign, she kept Havre nearby. Travis didn’t have a chance in hell of putting his hands on her. She was strong, but not that strong.

  He’d asked her out a couple of times and she refused. She was just too busy. She had a date, which was a total lie he would have spanked her for had he known. She even used the old standby; I have to wash my hair. After that one, he stopped asking.

  Claire was pretty sure the only ones who knew she was hurting were Havre and Jeannie, but they wisely kept quiet. As Havre was nearing retirement age, he agreed to stay on as security and maintenance. It suited them both and made Claire more confident knowing both he and Jeannie had her back.

  She dressed in her favorite dress, the yellow silk she’d worn to Travis’s office. He’d threatened to spank her that day she recalled. She’d accused him of being unyielding and he proved it was so true. God it seemed so long ago, yet still managed to send a hoard of butterflies straight to her tummy.

  Slipping on her yellow designer heels, she brushed her much longer auburn hair and twisted it into a chignon. After applying her make-up, she went to the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee. She loved the look and feel of the room. The warm brown granite and copper appliances cost a small fortune, but she almost never cooked anymore unless Jeannie and Charlie were coming for dinner. It lost its appeal when there was no one to harass her about the mess she made or rave about how good it was despite that.

  Taking her coffee, she went downstairs where Jeannie was setting out trays of fruit cups, cookies and juice. A huge urn of coffee was ready for the adults along with ice water and tea.

  “It looks perfect,” Claire exclaimed. “God, I’m so nervous.”

  “You shouldn’t be,” Jeannie assured her. “The kids are going to love it and the parents will be over the moon with your sliding fees. All in all, it’s a win/win for everyone. Claire, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for Charlie and me,” she said sincerely. “We’ve never been happier.”

  “Might that have something to do with a certain man named Jackson?” Claire teased.

  Jeannie laughed and blushed prettily.

  “A little, but it’s mostly you, Claire.”

  “Well thank you, but it’s me who’s lucky to have you. You and Charlie make life sweet.”

  “Don’t you mean, bearable?” Jeannie asked shrewdly.

  “Yes, that too,” Claire admitted.

  “When are you going to work things out with Travis?”

  “Oh look, it’s almost nine o’clock. I think we can open the doors a few minutes early don’t you?”

  Jeannie rolled her eyes and went to unlock the door.

  “This isn’t going away, Claire,” she sighed. “Welcome to Reach for the Stars. Come in and make yourselves at home. Staff is available to answer any questions you may have.”

  ***

  For the next four hours it was bedlam. Children were tearing around running from one activity to another. Havre kept an eye out, gently separating the more aggressive children from the incredibly shy ones. Several mothers arrived with infants and Carol, a registered nurse who was sick of the stress and trauma of dealing with critically ill patients, showed them the nursery facilities and introduced them to her assistant Jewel. Juice and cookies were replenished constantly and applications were filled out by adults sitting on tiny little chairs at small tables.

  New people kept arriving every few minutes and Claire was a little disheartened knowing she wouldn’t be able to accommodate even half of the ones who turned in applications. It was then that Travis arrived carrying a huge arrangement of flowers and looking oh so sexy wearing his usual crisp white shirt and an impeccably tailored black suit.

  “What are you doing here?” Claire asked suspiciously.

  “I came to congratulate you,” he replied, handing her the flowers. “It looks wonderful, Claire. You’ve done a remarkable job. I’m proud of you.”

  “But there are so many children we’ll have to turn away,” she said sadly, taking the flowers. “I wish I could do more.”

  “You must concentrate on all the families you will be helping,” he insisted.

  “I suppose so.” Walking into the kitchen, she found a pitcher to put the flowers in until she could locate a vase. He followed her.

  “How are you, baby, I mean really?”

  “I’m fine,” she answered, not looking at him.

  “You don’t look fine. You’ve lost weight and I’d be willing to bet there’d be dark circles under those beautiful eyes if I washed off the make-up,” he said gruffly.

  “Travis, please,” she sighed, grabbing the edge of the sink and looking down. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Are you aware you have a bright green handprint on your ass and a bit of what I suspect is vomit in your hair?”

  Claire craned her head around and just managed to glimpse some of the handprint.

  “That’s Charlie I’m afraid,” she smiled. “He’s been finger-painting and he seems to have a slight fascination with patting my ass when he wants my attention.”

  “I can relate,” Travis replied, shaking his head in sympathy.

  Leaning back against the sink, she crossed her arms in an unconsciously defensive stance.

  “Come on, Travis, why are you really here?”

  “I’ve come to give you one last chance,” he said firmly, his eyes dark and serious as he focused the full strength of his gaze in hers.

  “One last chance?”

  “Yes, one last chance to accept my proposal of marriage or at least let me back into your life before I do something desperate.”

  “Desperate?”

  “Is there an echo in here?” he asked looking around.

  “What do you mean desperate?” Claire ignored the thrill that raced up her spine.

  “Ah, now that I can’t tell you. By its very definition an act of desperation is usually an unplanned method of dealing with a hopeless situation. I’m afraid if you can’t at least give me hope I’ll be forced to deal with this in my own way.” Travis smiled but it did not reach his eyes and she knew he was very serious. He wasn’t a man given to idle threats.

  “Travis, stop it. You’re scaring me.”

  “Bullshit! You’re the bravest women I know. Who else would have taken me on with all my um… idiosyncrasies?”

  “You do know kidnapping is against the law?” she said slowly watching him advance toward her.

  “Oh, baby, it will be nothing as predictable as that,” he whispered, his lips mere inches from hers.

  Placing a hand on his chest, she pivoted away. He did nothing to stop her, just smiled in satisfaction.

  “So what’s it to be?” he demanded, letting her back away.

  “I don’t like being threatened, Travis,” she snapped, willing her heart to slow down and behave itself. They both knew that was a blatant lie.

  “You don’t like to be threatened? I don’t like to be refused. Where does that leave us, baby mine?”

  “Exactly where we are,” she hissed, walking quickly out of the kitchen.

  He followed at
a much slower pace. When he came up behind her, she was picking up used coffee cups. Most of the room was empty.

  “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he whispered, leaning forward and nipping her ear. “It’s your ass.”

  “You leave my ass out of this,” she insisted.

  “Never in a million years,” he replied with a laugh. He brushed against her bottom as he moved away. “Good-bye, Claire. It’s been nice seeing you and I meant what I said. I’m very proud of you.”

  Claire didn’t respond. She watched him walk to the door where he turned and looked at her one last time before winking. He held up his huge hand and flexed it. Then he was gone.

  The realization her panties were now soaked made her even more furious. How dare he pull this shit on her, especially when she needed to focus all her attention on her burgeoning business? Now that her open house was over, she went up to her apartment and took off her dress. Looking at the perfect print of a child’s hand, she laughed. Maybe the dry cleaner could get it out? If not, she would cut a square out of the dress and frame it in remembrance of this day.

  They would officially open in three weeks after they had a chance to go over the applications. Until then she had some time to herself and decided to take a few days off and go to the coast for a little R&R. She’d be out of Travis’s reach and whatever he had planned and maybe get a chance to rejuvenate. He was right about the dark circles under her eyes, but it was rude of him to mention it. After all, they were his fault.

  ***

  She went to Cape Cod. It was late in the season so she managed to rent a lovely little cottage on the ocean for a discounted price. Claire took her jeans and hoodies, a couple of books, but purposely left her laptop at home. She spent the week lounging, enjoying the cool ocean breeze, reading and taking the edge off with her Hitachi wand. By the time she went back to the city she wanted to be so sick of coming the thought of fucking a man would be the furthest thing from her mind.

  At the end of the week, she packed up her things, tossed her suitcase in the back of her rental car and headed home looking forward to sleeping in her own bed and having a smoke inside for a change. She paid extra for the rental car company to take her home and trudged tiredly up the stairs, dragging her suitcase behind her.

  Punching in the building’s security code she reset it as soon as she entered. Another long set of stairs awaited her and she looked at them in disgust. Perhaps she should have eaten more than chips and cookies on her mini vacation. Finally, she squared her shoulders and carried on, heaving a sigh of relief as she slipped her key into the lock. Grabbing her bag, she gave the door a hip shot to open it and it immediately bounced back and closed with a click.

  “What the fuck,” she said, unlocking her door again. This time she pushed it open with her hands surprised it only opened enough for her to squeeze through.

  “Good, you’re home,” a disembodied voice called out. “I was wondering when you were coming back. It’s pretty lonely around here.”

  Claire gazed around the room at the mountains of boxes and stacked furniture, her mouth hanging open in shock.

  “Travis, you son of a bitch,” she roared. “Where are you?”

  “Now hang on, hang on, I’m going to give you directions,” he drawled.

  “And I’m going to kill you,” she shouted back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I needed a place to stay for a while, so I thought I’d move in with you,” he replied. “Go three rows in and take a left,” he instructed.

  Claire dropped her things and did as he said.

  “Why do you need a place to stay?” she hollered over the boxes.

  “Turn right. I got evicted, well not evicted actually. It was more like forced out of the building, so I had to sell my apartment.”

  Claire snorted.

  “How could you, Mr. Follow the Rules or else, get evicted?” she asked, working her way through the maze he’d constructed.

  “I dumped your jar of butts and ashes onto the neighbor’s balcony,” he called out calmly.

  Claire started laughing, hard, and paused to lean against his leather couch which was standing on end.

  “Why?”

  “I was having a bad day. Sort of pissed off, I guess.”

  “At me?”

  “Yes.”

  “For leaving the butts?”

  “For leaving me.”

  “Oh.” She debated going back the way she’d come and finding a hotel until this could be straightened out but decided running away would not solve anything. Besides, she was really liking his maze. It wasn’t as good as hers, of course, but it was… adequate. “Which way now; there are two openings?”

  “Crawl through the tunnel,” Travis said. “Don’t worry, nothing will fall on you.”

  “What the fuck,” she hissed as she dropped to her knees.

  “Watch your language, young lady,” he warned. His voice was much closer than it had been.

  “I think we both know I’m not young and I’m not a lady, so save your daddy shit for someone who gives a fuck what you say.”

  “God, I love it when you’re bad,” he laughed huskily. “Come on; give me more of that sass. I’ve already unpacked my spatulas.”

  “And you know what you can do with those too,” she huffed, getting to the end of the tunnel and standing up. Pushing her long hair out of her face she looked around. In the middle of the semi-circle sat his long dead ficus. “Why did you bring this?” she asked curiously.

  “To remind you why you’re quitting smoking.”

  “When pigs fly,” she replied sweetly. “I have very few things in life that bring me pleasure. Smoking is one of them and I’m not giving it up!”

  “We’ll see. Move the two boxes on the far left. They’re empty and walk through the opening.”

  Claire picked up the first one and shot it high in the air in the direction of his voice.

  “Ouch.”

  “What a wonderful sound,” she laughed. “Care for another?”

  “Put it down, Claire,” he said appearing before her and rubbing his head. While still several feet away she couldn’t help being affected by the sight of him. Once again he wore faded jeans and a black tee shirt, the same as she. “What’s this about, Travis?”

  “I’m moving in with you,” he announced walking toward her and taking the box from her hands. “You’ve very kindly given me a year’s sublet on your apartment. We’ll be roomies.”

  “I did no such thing,” she gasped in outrage.

  “Um yes, baby mine, you did,” he replied grinning.

  “When? How?” she demanded.

  “Remember that last group of papers I brought for you to sign?”

  Claire nodded, speechless.

  “It was in there and that’s exactly why you need a man looking out for your interests. Someone to protect you from disreputable characters, such as myself.”

  “I can’t believe you did that,” she said, completely stunned.

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I gave you plenty of opportunities to be reasonable, yet you refused. Now you pay the piper, my girl.”

  “I don’t want you here,” she whispered.

  “Tough. I’m staying, and at the end of the year if you still won’t marry me and want me to go, I’ll leave peacefully. After all, I let you stay with me for months,” he reminded her.

  He had a point.

  “All right, you can stay in the second bedroom, but there will be rules,” she snapped.

  “What sort of rules?”

  “No touching!”

  “You touching me, or me touching you?” he asked grinning.

  “You touching me, you moron.”

  “I have no problem touching you,” he responded grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his arms.

  “No, the rule is you can’t touch me,” she hissed, shoving at his chest.

  “Pity.”

  “Under no circumstances are
you to put your hands on me,” she reiterated.

  “Who are you afraid of, Claire,” he asked, releasing her so quickly she stumbled, “me or yourself?”

  She didn’t answer, just shoved past him and wound her way to her room.

  “Get this shit put in storage,” she ordered just before she slammed her bedroom door.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Travis did as she asked with a few exceptions. He replaced her smaller TV with his huge flat screen, added his single malt scotch to her bar and swapped out the bed she had in the guest bedroom with his own.

  “What was wrong with that bed?” she asked one morning over coffee. “It was brand new.”

  “I like something a little harder. A good firm surface makes a lot of difference when I fuck you.”

  Claire spit her coffee out and stomped from the room. His laughter followed her.

  One day she came home and found he’d hung a rack in the kitchen to display his blue spatulas in graduated order. She took them down and tried to feed them into the disposal. Then she called the repair man.

  The next set was pink. They went out with the trash. She saw to it herself. A week later another set appeared. This one was red and looked pretty sturdy. She dropped them in the Good Will bin behind the pharmacy. Next came the purple ones. They had a deep rich hue and the handles weighed a ton. He caught her taking them down.

  “You might want to reconsider. I’ve tried to be nice about this. The colors were sort of a warning, but if you destroy them, that is the exact color your ass is going to be when I get done with it,” he stated firmly, pointing at the purple tools of torture.

  Claire left them alone.

  She ignored him as best she could, but it was hard not to notice an attractive man wandering around her apartment in pajama pants, hung so low on his hips she waited for them to fall off completely. Her wand got a lot of use over the next three weeks.

  One Sunday morning when they were silently making breakfast, trying not to touch each other, he spoke up.

  “You know, baby, it’s getting mighty annoying listening to you and that damn wand night after night when I’m perfectly able to take care of your needs, providing you have any you’re willing to admit to, you being so damn self-sufficient and all. Can’t you get anything quieter and maybe stuff a sock in your mouth?”