SEA ORPHAN

by J. KRAMER

  “Maybe he charmed you and swept you off your feet.”

  “But why would he lie about me being his wife?”

  “I have no idea and I wouldn’t worry about it anymore. Here’s Maria with our lunch.”

  Maria had warmed a little toward Becky but still treated her with some resentment. Becky saw Maria’s lips tighten when she saw Becky clad only in a bikini.

  “It’s not proper for a pregnant woman to expose herself in such an indecent manner,” she muttered. “That poor baby must be cooking in there lying in the sun like that.”

  “Maybe he’ll be born with a tan,” Becky joked. “Thanks, Maria. The salad looks delicious.”

  The doorbell sounded. Charles looked up from his laptop in surprise. “Who could that be? We’re not expecting anyone. Maria, would you answer the door?”

  Maria came back within a minute. “There’s a gentleman who wishes to see Mrs. Burke. His name is Lucien Moore.”

  Becky almost dropped her plate and coughed. “Are you sure you heard the name correctly, Maria? She asked after she’d stopped coughing and had swallowed her food.

  “I’m not deaf. Do you want me to tell him to go away?”

  “No. Ask Mr. Moore to join us here, Maria,” Charles told Maria with a concerned glance at Becky. “Are you okay, Becky? Are you sure you can handle this?”

  “Yes. I was just surprised. We were just talking about Lucien Moore and now he’s here on our doorstep? It’s almost like deja vu. Maybe I’ll finally get some answers.” Her bathrobe hung on a corner of the chair. She quickly put it on.

  Charles closed his laptop when he heard footsteps approach and stood up to greet Lucien Moore. But Lucien walked straight past him toward Becky. Charles ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head at the strange ways of artists.

  Becky looked up at the man she’d wondered about for so long, the man who had haunted her dreams, whose name had often been on her lips when she woke up. “Mr. Moore? I’ve been anxious to meet you for a long time. This is my husband, Charles Burke. Please sit down Mr. Moore. Would you care to join us for lunch?” The words tumbled from her lips. The man had surprised her. Gavin had told her he was an older man but Lucien Moore was far from old and he was ruggedly good looking. His eyes were very dark and bored into hers. She shifted uncomfortably on her chair. “Mr. Moore?”

  The knives twisted without mercy inside his chest. Lucien gazed into the deep blue eyes he loved so much, eyes that now looked into his without recognition. Was Becky playing games? Was this a show for her husband? With consternation he noticed her big belly. “Becky?” he said softly. “Becky? Don’t you recognize me?”

  Becky heard the tremor in Lucien’s voice, the deep emotion radiating from his eyes, etched on his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you but I know you painted my portrait. Please sit down Mr. Moore. Charles, would you offer Mr. Moore a drink?”

  Charles had watched the interaction between the two. Becky showed no recognition of the man but Lucien Moore obviously knew Becky and love was written all over his face. Love and pain. This man is part of Becky’s past, he thought. He’s in love with her. Was Becky more than just Lucien’s model?

  Lucien felt confused. “Becky, I’ve searched for you for months. So have your parents.”

  “My parents? You know where they are?”

  “Yes, and Paul, your brother. What’s wrong with you, Becky?”

  Becky felt overwhelmed with emotion now she knew she had a family. She swallowed hard before she spoke again. “Where is my family?”

  “Right now they’re in Queensland, Australia, but your father and brother are ready to jump on a plane and I’m sure when I tell them I’ve found you, both your parents and brother will be here within days. Becky, how could you have done all this? Why did you go with that man?”

  Her lips trembled and she felt a hot tear roll down her cheek.

  Charles intervened. “Mr. Moore, please, my wife is expecting. Stress is not good for her or the baby.”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t understand. I’ve been searching for months and now I’ve finally found her and she pretends not to know me or that she has a family.”

  “It’s no pretence,” said Becky softly. “I suffer from amnesia. I’m so glad you’re here Mr. Moore. You’ve made me very happy. I thought I had no one in the world but now I know I have a family. I’d like to meet them soon. Perhaps seeing them will bring back the past.” His eyes made her feel uncomfortable. It was as if they penetrated her soul and touched a chord there. When he spoke, his deep voice touched the strings of her heart and echoed through her mind. His voice sounded familiar, his words were like a caress on her skin.

  The headache that had been so long gone now returned in full force. She rubbed her temples.

  “Honey, are you all right?” asked Charles worriedly.

  “It’s just the headache.”

  “You haven’t had one of those for quite some time. Maybe Mr. Moore can return another day. You need to rest now.”

  Becky shook her head. “No. I need to know more. Mr. Moore, I…”

  “Please stop this Mr. Moore business, both of you, and call me Lucien.”

  “I’m sorry. Lucien, I modeled for your paintings. When and where did that happen?”

  “On Moore Island, off the Queensland coast.”

  “Gavin commissioned these paintings?”

  “Hell, no. The bastard kidnapped you when I was on the other side of the island.”

  “I commissioned you? Or maybe my parents?”

  “Becky, you went through a great deal of trauma which caused you to run away from home. You escaped in a dinghy during a storm. The dinghy was torn on the rocks. The waves carried you to my beach. You were alive and I nursed you back to health.”

  “Trauma?” she asked in a trembling voice. “What kind of trauma?”

  “Your home was burglarized, your parents and brother beaten into unconsciousness. You heard shots and probably thought your parents and brother were dead. To escape the assailants you took the dinghy out to sea.”

  “That seems rather foolish.”

  “Not if you’re terrified as we realize you must have been.”

  She dared gaze into his eyes again. They locked and held. It was as if Lucien tore her soul from her body. She felt strangely drawn to this man, so much that it made her shift uncomfortably. “So I spent some time on your island and you painted me. How long was I there?”

  “About six months or more.”

  “Why didn’t you take me back to the mainland?”

  “You didn’t want to go back and I’d become rather—eh—used to having a companion. Your company was delightful.” Lucien had almost told her he loved her and stopped himself just in time. How could he tell a married, very pregnant woman, he loved her then with all his heart and loved her now?

  “I see. How did I eventually leave the island and why?”

  “A boat came when I was on the other side of the island gathering the debris the sea washed up. When I returned to the cottage, you were gone. There was blood on the floor. I knew you’d been kidnapped.”

  “My God,” Becky whispered. “All lies. The bastard fabricated the whole story.” She sat up and swung her legs over the side, a wave of dizziness suddenly attacking her.

  Lucien watched her face grow pale beneath the tan. He jumped up ready to catch her but Charles was faster.

  “Lucien, I think this is enough for a day. As you can see, this revelation has traumatized my wife greatly,” Charles said without looking at the artist who had caused this upheaval in his life, a man who was obviously in love with Becky. He put an arm around Becky’s shoulders. “Would you like to lie down for a while, my love?”

  “No, Charles. I’m okay now. I want to hear more,” Becky said while gently wriggling out of Charles’ restraining arm. She stood up and started to pace the warm cement deck. “Gavin stole the paintings, too?”

  “Yes. He told the FBI he’d bought the paintings
and you’d willingly accompanied him. I couldn’t prove any different.”

  “So I was unconscious when I left the island.”

  “The FBI will want to question you. Your testimony will put Gavin Roarke behind bars for quite a while. They’ve been after the man for a long time.”

  A dull throbbing had started between Becky’s legs. Suddenly she wanted to feel Lucien’s arms about her, his lips on hers. Afraid of her intense feelings, she walked to Charles and sat on his knee. “Lucien, why did you take it upon yourself to search for me? Why not leave it up to the police and the FBI?”

  “I felt guilty. I wasn’t there to protect you. And not only that, at first the police suspected me of having murdered you.” He didn’t add that it was his great love for her, too, that had prompted his intense search. “I’m glad you’re alive and well, Becky,” he said softly while he felt his heart slowly withering, his soul dying.

  “How did you finally locate me?”

  “I hired a detective. She saw the marriage announcement in the paper and gave it to me. I contacted the paper and they gave me this address. And here you are. Happily married—and expecting a baby.” Suddenly he realized that Charles couldn’t be the father. Becky seemed too far along. “The child? It’s that bastard’s?”

  “Yes,” said Becky softly. “But he or she will be loved very much by both of us.”

  “I must call your parents. They’ll be overjoyed that I’ve found you.”

  Charles gently lifted Becky off his lap and stood up. “You can use the phone in my study, Lucien. Maria, please show Mr. Moore to my study?” He’d seen Maria hovering in the background and knew she’d been listening. He watched Lucien follow Maria into the house, the man’s steps tired, his back slightly bowed.

  “Charles, I feel so confused,” said Becky and pulled his arm so he’d face her.

  “I bet. Now do you remember?”

  “No. Charles? Hold me? I’m suddenly afraid.”

  “Afraid of what, my love?”

  “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice though she knew very well that her fear was caused by the inner contact with Lucien, the throbbing of her cleft from wanting him.

  Charles looked down into her troubled eyes. “Honey, I think you should rest a while.”

  “I can’t. Not now.”

  Lucien appeared in the open doors. “Becky, your mother and father would like to speak to you,” he called out to her.

  Becky buried her face against Charles’ chest for a moment then resolutely stepped back and headed for the doors. “I’m coming,” she said softly, her heart a drum roll within her chest.

  Lucien handed her the phone and watched her face. He felt concerned at the troubled expression in her eyes. It pained him to see her so, and knives slashed at him that she couldn’t remember anything about her past. But it was too late. Becky was married. The least he could do now was reunite her with her family. Then, he’d have to leave and return to his island where the healing process of another lost love would have to start all over again—only this time, he didn’t think the wounds would ever heal.

  With trembling hand Becky placed the receiver on her ear. “Hello?” she said softly.

  “Becky? Oh my God. Is it really you? Honey, this is Mom.”

  “Lucien told me,” said Becky, not knowing what else to say. She listened to the soft sobs and felt helpless. This woman was her mother, yet she felt no connection.

  “We’re flying to the States as soon as possible, sweetie. Dad is making the arrangements right now.”

  “Yes. That will be nice.”

  “Oh, Becky, it’s so good to hear your voice—we thought—we…”

  “I’m very tired now. I’d like to go and lie down for a while.”

  “Becky, are you okay? The cancer…”

  “Cancer? What are you talking about?” Becky asked, now afraid.

  “Never mind. We’ll talk about all that when we get there. You go lie down, sweetie. Oh, Becky—we love you so much.”

  “Yes. Thank you. Good-bye.”

  Charles had entered the study, too. He saw the confusion on Becky’s face, the chalky white of her skin and he turned to Lucien. “I think you’d better go now, Lucien. Becky needs to rest.”

  Lucien wanted nothing more than to stay, but he had no choice. “Yes. I’ll see you in a few days then when Becky’s family arrives,” he said and started to leave.

  “Lucien, please call before you come?”

  “I will.”

  Charles scooped Becky into his arms and carried her upstairs to their bedroom. Gently he laid her on the bed and pulled an afghan over her trembling body. “Honey, I’m going to call the doctor. You’re a bundle of nerves.”

  “No, I don’t want the doctor. I want you, Charles. Lie with me?”

  Still wearing his shorts and shirt, he kicked off his sandals and got onto the bed with her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Becky wriggled out of her robe and snuggled into Charles’ arms. Desperately, she sought his lips. “I love you, Charles,” she whispered against his parted lips. “I’m so scared.”

  “Honey, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said softly. “Finally, you’ll know about your past. Aren’t you glad you have parents? A family?”

  She licked his lips then let her tongue flick in and out of his mouth until she heard him groan. Right now she didn’t want to think about a family she didn’t remember—a woman whose voice rang no bells in her mind. They were strangers. Now, she wanted Charles to make love to her, to stop the throbbing of her cleft, her aching vagina, the yearning for something alien. She felt his hands undo the clasp of her bikini top. Her breasts spilled free. She pushed them against his chest and pressed her lips hard against his, her tongue searching, probing deep within the soft, moist crevices of his mouth. She’d hardly noticed that Charles had taken off her panties and gasped when his fingers suddenly entered her. Spreading her legs, her hands reached for his cock. It was flaccid. “Charles, I need you,” she whispered urgently against his lips. “Make love to me, my darling. Please?” She sat up

  Charles sighed. The pain in his chest was unbearable. The love he’d seen shine from Lucien’s eyes, scared him. What if Becky remembered the past? Had she been in love with this man? Would he lose her now? Silently, he continued to explore the crevices of her cleft, entered his fingers again and tried to help her that way.

  Tears ran down Becky’s cheeks. She needed him now more than ever, wanted his cock inside her but it remained in its dormant state. “Roll over,” she whispered huskily. “Lie on your back.”

  Charles lay on his back and watched while she straddled him and rubbed her cleft against his penis. She looked so beautiful, so wild and abandoned. Her swollen breasts bounced enticingly with each movement, her beautiful belly facing him. He loved her pregnancy. It had been his dearest wish to have a child and now finally his wish would come true. But the pain in his chest would not subside. He tried to still the pangs of fear, without success.

  Becky knelt down between Charles’ legs and took his cock in her mouth. She sucked hard while moving the skin back and forth with her hand. Finally she managed to get his cock up halfway and quickly she straddled him again and pushed it inside her vagina. “Yes, babe, yes, fuck me!” she shouted. “Fuck me, Charles, like you never have before!”

  Charles watched as she rode him. He tried hard but the pain wouldn’t go away and neither would the thoughts about Lucien. To please her, he reached out for her breasts when she leaned forward and kneaded them. He noticed a droplet of sticky liquid appear on the nipples and wiped them off with his finger then sucked the sweet tasting nectar off his finger.

  Becky hardly noticed that Charles’ cock wasn’t completely erect. She rode him in a wild frenzy, trying desperately to erase Lucien’s face, his eyes, from her mind. She climaxed, and climaxed again, causing her juices to make Charles’ cock so slippery that it slipped out of her vagina. Desperately she knelt between his legs and sucked
it again but it wouldn’t listen to her. She kneaded his balls, did everything that always turned him on, but nothing worked.

  Finally, Charles pulled her up and held her tightly in his arms. “Becky, honey, calm down. It isn’t going to work this time.”

  “Why not?” she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks now. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No, of course not, baby. I love you. I’m just not in a sexual mood right now. Too much has happened today and I’m worried about you.”

  “Charles I’m so afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Of the past. My mother mentioned cancer. The blood tests were all okay. What did she mean?”

  “Oh, baby. You should have told me. I’m sure if there was anything wrong the doctor would have told us. You’re fine,” he tried to assure her. Slowly, he felt her calm down but she continued to cry softly until emotional exhaustion caused her to finally fall asleep in his arms.

  Gently, he removed his arms from her body, trying not to wake her, then climbed off the bed, got dressed and covered Becky with the afghan. “Sleep, my darling. Sleep heals the wounded spirit,” he said softly.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  That evening, Becky was very quiet. Several times Charles tried to strike up a conversation, but she hardly listened. Her eyes were misty, as if they were far away in a distant place. When they finally went to bed, she snuggled into his arms and lay there quietly, without talking like they usually did. Charles’ heart ached for her, for his own uncertainties, but there was nothing he could do to stop the course of destiny. He was a firm believer in destiny and that life’s map would always lead to the right roads. This time, one of those roads had found Becky and he felt he’d soon lose her.

  “Goodnight, my love. Sleep tight,” he said and kissed her on the lips.

  “You too. I love you, Charles.”

  “And I love you, Becky.”

  “Charles, you’ll never leave me?”

  “Now what made you ask a crazy question like that?” he stroked her hair and held her tighter while his heart wept.