Count On Me

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Count On Me Page 22

by Abigail Graham


  Conrad gapes at the first car. I suppose he’s never seen one before. I don’t even know what it is, some Soviet-era thing that looks like it cribbed the wheels from a tractor. Then he spots an actual tractor out in the fields.

  “What in the name of God is that?” he says.

  I laugh. Oh my God, this is going to be fun.

  We walk down a paved road. Conrad is amazed by the existence of asphalt. He finds a broken chunk by the shoulder of the road and picks it up to examine it, feeling its texture, testing its weight. Adrian just stares.

  Nina clings to me when he passes her, in the serene way only a ten-year-old can. After a while I say, “You’re too heavy for Mama. Time to walk.”

  She walks by my side, holding my hand.

  In town we find no thatched roofs, though some are still tile. Lots of two-story buildings. In the seven hundred years since magic ripped a chunk of the world into some nether realm, the real Rienni has grown into a proper town. Conrad makes a pained sound when he sees the old common house with its bell tower is still there.

  People are staring at us.

  “Does anybody around here speak English?” I shout. “Spriechen zie Deutsch?” I go through every language I know.

  A man approaches us.

  “I speak English,” he says in a clipped accent. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, please,” I say. “Is there a telephone I can use?”

  I make the little ear-finger gesture of a phone handset.

  Conrad glances at me, curious.

  The man gives me an odd look. Maybe I patronized him without thinking. He takes an iPhone out of his pocket.

  “Not an international call, is it?”

  “No, I just need to call the American consulate in Auschaffenberg.”

  He looks up the number for me and hands me the phone. They answer on the third ring, and I explain who I am, tell them about the plane crash, and that I lost my passport.

  I sincerely hope they don’t ask me to explain how. No one is going to believe me.

  “We’re going to get you home,” the woman on the other end of the line says. “We need to get you to the capitol first. We’ll come out to pick you up. He should be there in six hours or so.”

  “Yes,” I say, almost cracking with joy, “that’s perfect.”

  I hang up and slump with relief.

  Conrad has been bantering with the man who offered me a phone. I listen in, and blink.

  Of course I understand them now. The part of me that could was just missing.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” the man says. “Yes, we saw the plane go down. Remarkable you and your family survived. I’ll take you to the mayor, he’ll help you.”

  He leads us to his battered old pickup truck. Conrad insists I ride up front while he sits in the bed with the children. The look on his face when it starts up and begins rolling is priceless, second only to the look on all their faces after we’ve arrived. None of them have ever gone faster than a horse can ride.

  The old tower house is a museum now. Henrik, the man who gave us the ride, guides us into a squat, governmental building. A middle-aged woman sits behind a desk and listens patiently while I explain.

  Conrad sits Nina on his lap and she flips through a children’s book. I lean back against the wall and close my eyes, promising myself I’m just going to rest.

  Six hours later I wake up to Conrad shaking my shoulder.

  “They’re here,” he says.

  I sit up and find myself in front of a petite redheaded woman wearing a skirt suit and a stern expression, and a lanky taller man with unruly dark hair and a bemused look on his face. They present their credentials.

  “I’m Harper,” the woman says. “This is Crane. We’re from the consulate. You say you’re Roxanne Giulimarco?”

  “That’s me,” I nod.

  “Who are these people?”

  “This is my husband,” I touch Conrad’s arm, “and my two children, Adrian and Nina.”

  “Ma’am,” Harper says, “you were on the passenger manifest for the flight that went down, but our records don’t show that you’re married. Also, you’re not old enough to be either child’s mother. Can you explain that?”

  I still myself and reach down into some reserve deep inside me. It’s like dipping my fingers in a still, cool pond. I wave my hand in front of their faces.

  “This is my husband, and my two children,” I repeat, slowly but firmly.

  Their expressions slacken then return to normal.

  “Of course. I’m so glad you all survived the crash. Does anyone need medical attention?”

  I shake my head.

  “Good. Come with us, then.”

  They turn without another word, and Conrad eyes me.

  “Witch,” I whisper.

  He shrugs his big shoulders, and we get in the car. It’s a nice midsized BMW sedan with plenty of room for all of us in the back. I watch with fascination as the children and Conrad react when it starts moving.

  Adrian and Conrad are simply floored by everything. Nina being Nina takes it in stride and falls asleep with her head in my lap. I lie back and rest mine on Conrad’s shoulder. By the time we arrive in Auschaffenberg, we’re all sleeping.

  After we step onto de facto American soil on the consulate grounds, I take in a breath of fresh air. I am going home.

  I have to do the hand-wave trick a few more times to get us inside. After I convince a string of people that we are who I say we are, they set us up with a pair of adjoining rooms that reminds me of a Motel Six, but slightly nicer.

  The kids get their own room. Conrad and I share another one, with a small balcony with a nice view of the city. It’s an eclectic place, with a mixture of modern architecture and older buildings. Downtown there’s an actual castle, though it’s not much of a fortification.

  I know things like that now.

  They’re just in my head. It’s difficult to get used to. In truth I haven’t really, yet, gotten used to it much at all. It’s like my mind is overstuffed. Things are sorting themselves out, though.

  I lean on the railing and look out at the modern world. It’s familiar and strange all at once. I feel like a foreigner here.

  Conrad steps up behind me.

  “This world unnerves me,” he admits. “How do you cope with all this…activity?”

  I laugh. “Wait until you see New Jersey.”

  “We’re going to your home,” he says.

  “My home, yes. I’m taking it back.”

  He slips his arms around me and props his chin on the top of my head. We fit together perfectly, he and I. I rest my hands on top of his and we rock in place, savoring the sheer simple pleasure of being with one another.

  There are other pleasures to be enjoyed, while we’re here. He pulls me to the bed and almost tosses me onto it, sheds his borrowed shirt, and bares his magnificent body.

  I lunge at him and then my lips are on his chest, my cheek nuzzling in the light blonde hair that covers his skin. Conrad climbs onto the bed, pressing me down.

  He lovingly pulls the cloth from my skin, gently, exposing me an inch at a time. When I reach for him or urge him on he grabs my wrists and teases me with a near kiss. I lie back and let him unclothe me.

  “Lie on your stomach,” he orders.

  I roll over and pull a pillow under my head, and relax. All my life I’ve felt this weight, this burden pushing me forward, and it’s just gone now. His hands replace it, curling around my shoulders, thumbs kneading the tension from my muscles.

  I groan. This is almost better than sex.

  Oh, who am I kidding, it’s in no way better than sex.

  He feels my excitement, the way I start to quiver as he works down my back. When he gropes my ass and kneads the muscle, it’s as innocent as a man kneading a woman’s ass can be, but a wild shudder passes through my body from my scalp down to my toes.

  I flinch when he takes my foot in his lap. It tickles at first, as he rubs the sole of my foo
t with his thumbs. When he hits it just right I groan, deeply enjoying it. Every muscle in my body is coiled up hard with tension.

  I open one eye and look back over my shoulder at him. He sweeps my hair aside and leans down to lightly kiss the back of my neck, then harder. The he gives me a little nip, just gently pressing his teeth into my flesh. I jerk all over, goose bumps rising on every square inch of my body.

  Now Conrad’s touch moves lightly, skimming over my skin. I shiver and shudder as his fingers pass over my butt. He spreads my cheeks lightly and breathes between them, his finger sliding under me to caress my pussy.

  I groan and thrust my hips up. He smacks my butt hard and I giggle, twisting as I roll over and attack him.

  I know his weaknesses. I’ve known his weaknesses for a long time. I leap on him and we roll onto the bed.

  Conrad may be a big tough man, but he collapses into a gale of laughter when I tickle his sides. It goes on until he’s out of breath, struggling against me as I straddle him.

  Then he uses his secret weapon. He fucking gooses me. His finger slips right up inside, and I jump and roll onto the bed. He licks it clean and goes for me again, pulling me across the bed by the hips, and again his finger enters me.

  I grin and close my eyes, savoring the feeling as he strokes my inner walls with a twisting, exploring finger. He kisses the small of my back, moving his mouth down my butt as he thrusts a finger inside me. I shiver and squirm free of him, rolling onto my back.

  I just saved the damn world, I’m pretty sure. I want to lie back and let him do all the work.

  Conrad obliges, happily. He sheds his pants and I shiver at the sight of him. It doesn’t matter if we’ve done this before, he always astonishes me, and he always looks at me, touches me with such reverence. The way he traces his fingers down the middle of my body and lightly runs one over my nipple, you’d think there was something magical about my breasts.

  He fluffs my hair out across the pillows and caresses my cheeks, leans down, and kisses me. That’s how the slow journey begins. He dedicates himself to tasting every inch of my body, starting with my throat, working his way down and down to my chest. He veers off course and his tongue tickles my armpit.

  I flinch and batter him playfully with my fists as he buries his nose and sniffs, groaning with delight.

  “Stop that!”

  Before I can protest any further he takes my nipple in his mouth, lying on the bed so I can feel his cock throbbing against my leg. I let my eyes go lidded as he teases and flicks my nipple with his tongue, then sucks so hard I cry out just as his two fingers slip inside me. I groan a little then, the fullness almost too much for me. Feeling his cock, I’m going to need it.

  One of the advantages of being reborn repeatedly is that I’m, ah, spry.

  I wrap my arm around his neck and curl against him, playing with his hair as he moves from one breast to the other, slowly working his fingers. I rest my head on his and feel such joy I’m nearly in tears.

  It goes on I don’t know how long, this embrace, him holding me tight as I squeeze into him as if we both fear the other will disappear. That fear is still there.

  It eases as he lies on top of me and kisses down my stomach, sinking between my legs. I arch back as he brings me to higher and higher heights of arousal, his fingers and mouth so deft that I almost come from them alone, so fast it spins my head in place.

  He looks up and our eyes meet. No words are exchanged, he just rises over me and presses his lips hard to mine as his thickness enters me, filling me all at once with a shuddering shock that tickles every part of me all together.

  He takes his time, and I savor every sensation, every glance, the way he looks at me with such love and care. I love that even more than I love his body. He’s totally dedicated to my pleasure, straining to hold himself back until I buck my hips and urge him on and we lose control together, moving as one in a relentless tide until I climb higher and higher, tightening around him in a vise grip until I explode.

  Conrad finishes with a shudder as the explosion passes through my body. I can do nothing but pant and hold him, smiling and stroking him. He never stops touching me, tasting me, feeling me.

  I climax. I’m even more excited now, far from satisfied. This is what people mean by fucking like a horny teenager. I had my turn lying back and taking it.

  We don’t even come apart. I just roll on top of him and slowly work my hips, shivering at the curious feeling of him coming to full, throbbing hardness inside me again.

  Then I ride him, my face knit with concentration as I buck my hips forward and back, groaning softly every time a twist of pleasure snaps through my body.

  Conrad holds my hips, trying to slow me. I twist and defy him, savoring the look on his face. I like the control that comes into me when he gets close. I like the feeling when he bucks under me, the way his whole body tenses when he comes.

  “You’re going to make me insensate, woman,” he says, half smiling.

  I sit there with his cock in me and rest my fingers on my chest. A whispered word in a language I can barely remember and heat flows from my fingers, into his chest. His cock stiffens within me.

  “Witch,” I whisper, smiling.

  Then he’s on top of me again. We wriggle and squirm with each other, twisting about in each other’s arms. It becomes a game. He wrestles me into submission and pumps into me for a while before I tickle loose. Finally I surrender and let him fuck me so hard it shakes the bed until he grunts and shivers and a long, flowing climax spreads through my body.

  “Surrender,” he says, pinning my hands.

  I nip at his bottom lip.

  “You’re not done until I say you’re done.”

  “I want to sleep with you so badly,” he says, locking his arms around me.

  “I need a shower,” I sigh. “Come with me.”

  He follows me in, still shocked by the idea of hot, flowing water on command. I slip under the stream and he joins me, and we don’t do very much soaping up for a while. Eventually he scrubs my back and washes my hair for me.

  After far too long, we collapse into the bed, bundle up together in the nude, and so begins the best night’s sleep of my entire life.

  I don’t dream one damn dream, either. I wake refreshed, ahead of Conrad, and happily wait for him to come around as he breathes into my neck.

  When he sits up and we disentangle, I go to slip into the clothes the consulate provided while Conrad shaves.

  He’s utterly baffled by a safety razor and I have to show him how it works. I tie his hair back, too, and he braids mine. I don’t ask him how he acquired that skill. He stops to smell it when he’s done, drawing deep from the top of my scalp.

  I’ve never worn my hair this way, but it looks familiar anyway. I flex my fingers and we knock on the door.

  The children are already dressed.

  The consulate provides us with a simple breakfast. I am going to find watching Conrad adapt endlessly amusing. He pokes at the bowl of breakfast cereal set before him like it came from an alien planet. From his perspective, I suppose it has.

  It takes a few days and a few more hand waves before the consulate is ready to send us home. They book us a flight on a proper airliner.

  Conrad stares at everything in the airport terminal with absolute, astonished awe. Adrian is terrified of a vending machine until I show him how it works. By the time we get on the plane, I buy a little bottle of peach brandy and hand it to Conrad. He gives Adrian a slug of it and downs the rest himself, and grips the armrests with white knuckles on takeoff anyway.

  I hold his hand and he calms. By the time we’re properly aloft, he leans over me to stare out the window, taking turns with Adrian. This must all seem like magic to him.

  We land at LaGuardia about seven months after I left home. I have enough cash in my accounts, which the State Department graciously assisted me in getting access to, to cover the cost of a one-way rental car. Conrad and Adrian are absolutely enthralled b
y New York.

  “We’ll come back for a visit, I promise,” I tell them, pulling them toward the rental.

  I want to go home.

  18

  Tomorrow

  Roxanne

  The damn door is locked, of course, and no one is answering the bell. I jab the button angrily.

  “It doesn’t seem to be working,” Conrad says. “Perhaps you should try knocking.”

  I tap the doorknob with my finger instead. It emits a low thump, and comes unlocked. It’s my house, after all.

  I’m starting to get a handle on this. Develop an understanding of my…gift. Whatever you call it. The door creaks open onto a dark room, and I push inside, Conrad and the children following me.

  The house is big, not a huge mansion but big. My great-grandparents owned an asphalt tile factory, of all things, and did well for themselves. Then their jackass grandson, that’d be my father, blew it and got in deep with the mafia in gambling debts.

  I lead them around the house. It’s just as empty as it ever was, but more so.

  “Dad?” I call out.

  I start to wonder if I’m in a dream, if this is the end when everything shatters. I test the world around me, feeling for it.

  No, this is real. I’m home.

  I find my father in his “office,” really his father’s, sitting at his desk. He stares at nothing, until he sees me.

  “Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “I heard you were dead.”

  “I was,” I say, though not quite like he meant. “What happened with your debt?”

  He blinks a few times.

  “I did manage to sell it.”

  He grabs the metal rims on his wheelchair and works it out around the desk, to sit in front of me. Both his legs are in casts.

  “They broke my shinbones.”

  I shiver and the ghost of pain passes through my body. In my many years before I was Roxanne I learned many hurts. I know how it feels.

  I shake that off.

  “Where do you stand with it now?”

 

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