Blink of an Eye: Beginnings Series Book 8

by Jacqueline Druga

  Henry knew it, never said a word and never would.

  She questioned him the next morning. She asked him what had happened. It was then he knew, she really didn’t have a clue. She honestly blacked out.

  In his demented logic, if he didn’t tell her, then it was all right. It never really happened.

  But it did. He was certain the truth would never come out. Then Nick was born.

  So easily Henry jumped on the ‘conception questioning’ and ‘It had to be a time ripple’ bandwagon right along with Ellen. Jason’s invention offered him an excuse for a mistake he should have owned up to. But too much time had passed and he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

  Admitting what he did not only meant his friendship with Ellen and Frank, it could have very easily meant his residency in Beginnings.

  How long had Henry carried it? How long did Henry try to bury it as if it didn’t happen, that it was all a bad dream.

  But it wasn’t. And even though he would keep it tucked deep inside, Henry vowed right there, even though in his mind it was unintentional, he wronged both Frank and Ellen and he was going to make it up to them.

  He would make it right somehow. But that somehow would be without the truth ever coming out ...

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ellen had floated away in a moment of memory. Thinking back to the early days of Beginnings and the day her and Dean got married. What brought it on? The simple flash back careened at her after she hung up from a brief phone call. Henry telephoned, said he was not stopping by and he apologized.

  “For what?” Ellen asked.

  “Just all the trouble and chaos.”

  She thought he was joking and playing a depressed card, until he brought up the mock wedding. How they needed to stop the plans, sooner rather than later.

  “Frank is upset.”

  “Frank has to deal. It’s over between him and I.”

  “But he’s my friend.”

  “And not to sound callous, but maybe you should have thought of that before we snuck off and got married. Henry, is this bothering you because the mock wedding isn’t real.”

  “Why would you say that?” Henry asked.

  “Because you wanted to make it real.”

  Ellen heard his sigh on the phone, and then she heard Dean call her name in the distance.

  “Frank will never allow it. He wants to be in control.”

  “Then maybe …” She peered over her shoulder, down the hall and to Dean in the bathroom. “Maybe we should take any chance of control away from him. I can’t have him interfere now. Not now. Maybe it’s time for me to decide where I need to be. Quit involving everyone’s emotions.”

  “That’s a good idea, but how.”

  “Maybe have Jenny’s wedding plans not be in vain.” Again, she looked at Dean. “Maybe I need to marry someone.”

  “El, that may be the only solution. Solidify a bond. Legally. Are you sure, I mean, I …”

  “Ellen,” Dean called her.

  “Henry, we’ll talk more later. I have to go.”

  She hung up before she or Henry said goodbye. Dean was her priority. It was that call that made her think of the day she married Dean when she was seven months pregnant. How strong he was, adamant, and focused. Not the quite the same man who sat waiting on her in the bathroom.

  Both Deans of the past and present needed her but in different ways.

  Back then, though, she made a promise to Dean and she broke it. The trust Dean placed in her and she had betrayed him. Now Dean needed to trust her and Ellen felt a part of him didn’t. He had every right. Now more than ever, Ellen wanted to help Dean. More than the day she had married him, she wanted to prove to him she could be there for him. With Dean as low as he could get, Ellen had her chance to make it all up. Her feelings for him had grown deep enough that she could be what he needed and not let him down. And she wouldn’t. Not this time.

  “I’m back,” she said as she walked into the bathroom. “Sorry. That was Henry.”

  “I figured. Everything okay?”

  “Actually, yeah. It’s great. I have an idea, but I’ll share it later.” Ellen lifted the basin to the counter then dipped a small brush in the cup of soap, swishing it around building it to a lather. “Towel or no towel, Dean.”

  “How bad are you going to be?” He kept his eyes closed as he sat in a chair center kitchen.

  “I’m a pro.” Ellen tossed a towel over her shoulder and brought the brush to his face, soaping him up. “Ready?”

  “I guess.”

  She set down the cup and picked up the razor, lifting Dean’s chin to start at his neck. Humming as she shaved him.

  “What are singing?”

  “You’ll laugh.”

  “Then tell me.”

  She dipped and rinsed the razor and then continued, “I was singing the ‘Silly’ song Robbie played all night last night.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t get it out of my head. I could have sworn I heard him playing it when we were walking home.”

  “I thought I heard that too.”

  Ellen released a sigh of relief. “Good. I thought I was hearing things. I wonder why he was playing it?”

  “To annoy everyone.”

  “That’s Robbie.” Ellen shaved his other cheek. “Almost finished.” She wiped the soap that dripped.

  “El,” he spoke so soft. “I usually shave first then shower.”

  “So we did it backwards.”

  “You combed my hair on the right, didn’t you?”

  “Dean, you seem to be bitching a lot at someone who has a lethal object so close to your throat.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” She set down the razor then wiped his face clean. “Yell at me, do something. Show me emotions … We’re finished.”

  “It’s hard to show emotions when you just feel so numb.”

  “I wish I could help you with that.” She turned and reached for his shirt that set nearer to the stove.

  “You could have.”

  “I could have? Did I miss my opportunity?”

  “No. I did.” Dean reached his arm out to the side, feeling for the counter and then standing.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Not fifteen minutes ago, El, I was standing with you naked in a hot shower. Instead of thinking about where the situation could lead, I was thinking if you would tell me if I washed all the soap out of my hair.” He sensed Ellen’s silence. “It won’t always be like this, El. I’ll do all these things eventually without help. Hopefully soon.”

  “I know you will.” Ellen grabbed his hand. “Let’s go in the living room. You can wait there until I go put some clothes on.” She led him from the kitchen, guiding him to sit on the couch. She grabbed his hands and placed his shirt in them. “I’ll be right down and then I’ll make you dinner.”

  Dean’s mind raced. Ellen was going to cook for him. What else? She had done everything for him so far. It was borderline humiliating to him.

  Ellen noticed Dean’s head lower as she stepped away. He brought the shirt he held to his mouth as he crumpled it within his hands. “Dean,” she softened her voice, moving back close to him, “I know you’re down. You have every right to be. But I feel down now too. I feel like I’m not doing anything. Tell what I can do to help you. I want to help you.”

  “You do. You are. I just wish I could see you. Your face.”

  “It’s not very attractive right now, Dean. I just got out of the shower.”

  “That’s not what I mean. No matter how nuts you drive me, no matter what, when I saw your face, it made me smile.”

  “You can still see me, Dean, but only in different way. Come here.” She reached out to him. “Give me your hand.” She took his hand leading him to his feet and then she laid his hand upon her face. “See me.”

  His fingers parted as his palm lay just upon her lips. He felt every curve of her face, every scar, her damp hair running over the back of his fi
ngers. Slowly his hand moved down, his fingertips brushing lightly against her lips as he made his way to her neck and trailing to center of her chest through the slight openness of her robe. He actually felt his body tremble some in nervousness as he felt the rise and fall of her every deep breath. Dean shifted his hands just a little to the left. Tighter he closed his eyes when he felt the vibration of her heartbeat through her skin. How many times in his life had he touched Ellen in desire? But now he touched her differently. He touched her with discovery, seeing her for the first time in a different way. He wasn’t just seeing her anymore with his eyes. Dean swore at that moment he could actually see into her soul.

  The silence, the deafening silence, was filled only with the ringing of their breathing.

  Rigid and tense in their movement, his fingers spread outward slower than he had ever moved his hand before. Dean’s little finger extended. It touched lightly, then traced over—barely touching—the contour of her breast.

  Ellen shivered and an ache filled the back of her throat at his slightest of touch, his hand opening more over her, feeling her. She lowered her head sliding it against his, her cheek against his cheek, bringing her mouth to his ear. Her parted lips reached to kiss him there as they touched and moved to his neck, Ellen’s hand slid down his bare chest.

  Dean’s breathing was off. Near hyperventilation he felt, when her hands moved from his back, across the rim of his jeans, then sliding over the front of him with a sensual firmness as she pressed her body against his. Not only on his body, but in him, he felt Ellen kissing him. The warmness inside built, yet Dean froze. He literally could not move when, like a lightning rod, fear hit him. Darkness. He was engulfed in a darkness that would not leave him even when he opened his eyes. He couldn’t see Ellen. He could only feel her and that frightened him. Instead of giving in to what was building, Dean found himself fighting against the vulnerability he was feeling toward Ellen, so at her mercy, so at her control, so out of his hands. His one moment of intimacy, his long awaited moment with Ellen was turning into what had happened in his life. It was becoming another thing he feared he couldn’t do, now that he was trapped in his darkened world. Dean didn’t want to fear it. He wanted it. So badly, he needed it but he felt it slipping from his fingers like her body he held gently in the palm of his hand just underneath her robe.

  “Dean ...” Her whisper shot into him with the effect of an echo chamber, ringing through his head to his heart, shivering every nerve of his body.

  Ellen touched her lips lightly to his ear calling out his name again. Just as she slipped her hands slightly under the waist of his jeans, she felt her wrist abruptly grabbed and removed. She shook her head, closing her eyes tighter wanting him not to pull back and Dean didn’t.

  With his step to her, he pulled Ellen into him, pressing his hand firmly to the side of her face and holding her cheek against his. So close they were that even the slightest movement of their eyes could be felt against the others. It was almost a forceful hold, keeping Ellen to him. His forefinger pressed to her temple, his thumb rested on the corner of her mouth, and Dean’s voice was soft and raspy as he spoke with emotion into her ear, “Let me be the one to do this.” He swallowed the thickness of what he felt that had formed in his throat. “I have to be the one to do this. Let me ... lead you.”

  Slow moving and intensely, he kissed her, the sweep of his mouth so in control of hers, not letting Ellen stop or pull back, not even for a second, not even to breathe. His hands moved to the collar of her robe. His fingernails scratched faintly as he pulled the garment just below her shoulders, bracing Ellen to him, feeling the skin of her bare chest against his. At that moment, eyes open or closed, he realized, being with Ellen was the one thing in which he didn’t need his sight. His heart and emotions would be his eyes. They would guide him further than his vision ever could.

  <><><><>

  Perky and bubbly, Jenny Matoose walked down the street on her way to Dean’s house. Dressed for her ‘date’ with her husband, excited about being the distributor to all of the women, giving to each of them, their very own pair of Beginnings’ first women’s flat shoe.

  Ellen was the last to get them as she was the only one not around. In one hand she held that pair of shoes and in the other, the color swatch samples of the bridesmaids’ gowns. She swung the shoes back and forth so happily, feeling so pretty as she walked. Dressed in a long shirt that Jenny felt hid her extra weight and a short skirt that showed what she felt was her best asset. Jenny walked predominantly too. Why wouldn’t she? She was proud of her new shoes, walking strong and clicking the hard soles against the concrete in an echoing beat on the quiet street. ‘Clickity-clack, clickity-clack’ she bounced in her loud stride like a showing-off schoolgirl. She hoped that Ellen would pick the second shade of blue, that was the one Jenny liked most. Attached to the swatch was a cute little note. Jenny giggled as she read it one more time, moving closer to Dean’s. Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, Jenny walked on.

  Ellen’s grunt and struggle made Dean laugh. “I think ...” She grunted again. “I think I have it.”

  “Just get up.”

  “No.” Her face cringed as she extended a reach to the couch for a blanket. “I think ... ha!” She smiled. “Got it.”

  “Cramp, cramp, ow, cramp in my toe.”

  Dean’s hand met the blanket and he did his best to adjust it over him and Ellen as they sat on the floor.

  “Should we get dressed?”

  “No. Not yet. Please?”

  “OK.” She ran her hand down his face then kissed him. “Can I ask you a question? You can’t get upset with me for asking because I want to know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They say ... they say when you can’t see your other senses take over. Was making love to me different?”

  “Actually ... yeah. Yeah it was.” Dean had a peaceful look on his face. “Instead of just feeling it, I felt it. I really felt it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Ellen was quiet for second then she huffed. “Boy, I feel cheated.”

  “I cannot believe you just said that to me.” Dean’s mouth opened in shock. “I can’t ...” He was silenced by Ellen’s kiss.

  Ellen watched as he propped his head up with his hand, elbow balancing on the cushion of the couch. He faced her yet his eyes remained closed. “Dean?”

  “Hmm?” Dean responded as he ran his fingers over her face then to her neck, taking it all in, photographing it with his fingers.

  “Do you do that on purpose or can’t you help it?”

  “Touch you?”

  “No. Keep your eyes closed.”

  “I ... I guess I keep them closed on purpose. Embarrassed, I think.”

  “Why?” Ellen said. “You have the best eyes in Beginnings. They’re so green. Why hide them just because you can’t see?”

  “Because they bounce.”

  “What?” Ellen laughed.

  “They bounce. Henry said they bounce. I don’t want you to be looking at bouncing eyes.”

  Ellen laughed even harder. “They do not. Henry exaggerates. They moved more yesterday because you were more lost. Understand? They don’t move now. Open them, Dean, please.”

  Dean opened his eyes. “Better?”

  “Much. Dean ... I’m smiling at you.”

  Dean felt her mouth. “Thank you.”

  “You seem different. You seem better.”

  “I think making love to you did something to me.” He heard her snicker. “That too. But ...” He paused to smile. “It showed me that I wasn’t a helpless person, that I’m still me. Just like I had to make love to you differently, I’m gonna have to do other things differently. And just because I’m doing them differently won’t mean I’m not doing them right.”

  Ellen giggled and spoke upbeat, “Oh, Dean. Good line. Good answer. I’m impressed.”

  “Yeah, well don’t be yet. Making love was a natural instinct. Walking blindly down the
street is not. It’ll take some work. But maybe ...” He leaned down and kissed her. “I can build my confidence back up?”

  “Right.”

  “What?” Dean detected the sarcasm in her voice.

  “Dean, you’re like getting a little old to be able to go round after round.”

  “I don’t get it enough, El, not to.”

  “Good point.”

  Just as Dean began to kiss her again, the opening of the front door and the shriek of surprise stopped him. “Shit. Who’s here?” he whispered.

  Jenny turned her back suddenly, covered her eyes, and rambled in a fast nervousness, “Oh, Ellen, Dean, I’m sorry. I thought you weren’t home. You said you wouldn’t be home. You said to just walk in. I wouldn’t have walked right in if I knew you were in here. I’m sorry.”

  Ellen laughed. “It’s all right, Jenny.”

  “I’ll just uh ...” Jenny, fidgeting, headed to the door. “I’ll stop back later. Sorry.” So embarrassed for just walking in, Jenny flung open the door and raced out.

  “Jenny ...” Ellen called, lifting up then plopping down. “Fuck, she took my shoes with her. I wanted them.”

  “Tell me, El.” Dean’s head emerged more from the covers, flinging his hair forward and onto his face. “What do you think she saw?”

  “For starters, your butt. It wasn’t covered by the blanket.”

  “Shit.”

  “Just kidding.”

  “Don’t do that.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “She did see us.”

  “Considering we’re in plain sight, yeah. We were covered though.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “There is another good thing, Dean.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, almost afraid to.

  “It’s a good thing you’re blind, because Jenny Matoose was wearing a miniskirt.”

  <><><><>

  Clickity-clack, clickity-clack. Slam! Frank’s hand hit hard on the bar when he heard it. “What the fuck is that noise?” He listened again, still angry and irritated from losing six straight dart games. It continued, getting louder and louder in the near empty Social Hall. It also got to the point that Frank had to turn around and investigate this new noise. When he did he saw the reason for it—Jenny walking in a skip across the Social Hall. “Jenny! What the fuck. Am I gonna have to start calling you Rhoda?”