Nolan Trilogy

by Selena Kitt

  “Perfect!” Erica smiled. “We won’t eat until five.”

  “Are you sure your family will be okay with it?”

  “Let me worry about that. You just come.”

  He leaned over and kissed her, his lips soft and warm, and Erica slid her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

  “Wow,” he breathed as they parted, looking into her eyes. “And here I thought I was going to show you something tonight.”

  “You did.”

  “But...” He cleared his throat. “I really didn’t expect… I mean...”

  She pressed her lips to his ear, whispering, “Good girls don’t sneak out to meet boys in the middle of the night.”

  He laughed. “So you’re a bad girl?”

  “When I want to be.” She wiggled her eyebrows and he laughed again, sliding his hands down to her hips, pulling her closer.

  “Do you think you might want to be again… soon?”

  “Hang around and find out.” Erica smiled, sliding across the seat and opening the passenger side door.

  He leaned over and called out, “I intend to!”

  “Goodnight, Clay.”

  “Night. See you in...” He glanced down at his watch. “About twelve hours...”

  She shut the passenger side door, trudging through the snow—there was almost a foot on the ground already—glancing back to see Clay pulling out into the street. He waved to her and she waved back, smiling to herself.

  She hadn’t really felt the Christmas spirit yet this year, not when they’d gone shopping for the Christmas tree, not stringing it with lights, not shopping for gifts, not even participating in midnight mass as the immaculate virgin—an irony not lost on her. Something had been missing, even with Leah home, and it wasn’t just her best friend’s sorrow about her missing baby.

  Erica was lonely. She’d fallen head over heels for a man she couldn’t have—and in spite of the nearly palpable attraction between them, Father Michael had made it clear nothing could ever happen—and she’d been spending all her time, in spite of that, thinking about him and wanting him and wishing it could be different. It left her exhausted and lonely, like constantly being in a crowded room and not recognizing a soul.

  For the first time in a long time, she felt connected, really alive. After the surprise meteor shower and the spontaneous fireworks in Clay’s backseat, a white Christmas felt like a gift, and she twirled around, laughing and sticking out her tongue like they used to when they were little, trying to catch snowflakes.

  Chapter Three

  After the disaster that was Christmas dinner, Leah just wanted to go to bed and sleep forever. She might have done just that—taken a handful of the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed for her, and gone to sleep. Forever. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d considered it. But there was Rob, with that sad, helpless look in his eyes, stroking her hair, whispering how much he loved her, telling her it was going to be okay, and she wanted to believe him, even if she couldn’t, quite.

  So for Rob, she hung on. She clung to him, desperate for contact, wanting him to erase her memory, to take her back to the time before, and he did his very best. Erica was gone with the new boy from St. Casimir, Clayton something, he whispered as he climbed into bed beside her. Father Patrick and Father Michael had left, and even Solie, who stayed to clean up after dinner, had gone home

  They were alone—except for the ghost, who was always there, even when she wasn’t looking, waiting just beyond her senses, waiting to move through her like a knife through her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, for the hundredth time, the millionth maybe, and he shook his head, kissing her quiet. She’d missed his kisses, his hands, the press of his thigh between hers. She didn’t understand how it happened, the whole falling-in-love thing, but she couldn’t deny it, even now, after his sweet, heartfelt proposal—had it just been that morning? It seemed eons ago—knowing she was his, and he, hers. She didn’t know the hows and whys, and she didn’t trust her head, where all the crazy-talk was happening.

  The only thing she trusted, had always trusted, was her body. She’d been a dancer her whole life, and Leah experienced everything through her body first. Perhaps that’s why she had been so taken in by Rob, by her own body’s suddenly awakened response to what she and Erica had found under Mr. Nolan’s bed. This very loft bed, with the big mahogany desk underneath, and the hidden door Erica had discovered behind the tapestry. Leah could reach out and touch the tapestry right now—it stretched from floor to ceiling, a striking oriental pattern hiding secrets she never could have imagined.

  The secret that had changed everything.

  Leah was tired of secrets, tired of lies, tired of pretending so the neighbors and the church wouldn’t be offended by her impropriety. She had been sent away a pariah as an unwed mother, deemed too immoral and wicked to be seen in public, but her only crime had been falling in love. Yet they had dinner with the clergy while ten feet away, behind a locked door, was a collection of obscene material so extensive it would probably land them in jail if it was discovered—and the irony of all ironies was that the church officials knew about it. Not only knew about it but were somehow profiting from it. Leah was almost certain of it.

  The weight of the hypocrisy threatened to bury her alive. And this man, the man she’d fallen for in spite of everything, was right in the middle of it, and although the lies and secrets were killing her, she was too afraid to uncover his secrets and expose him to the world. The truth was, she was too afraid of losing him. She’d lost so much already—not only her daughter, but the memory of a father who never existed, the mother who had betrayed her. Leah had nothing, no one, but Rob. And he loved her, wanted to marry her, had asked her to trust him.

  And she did.

  “Rob, please...” She met his kiss, her body responding instantly to him, as it always had. She’d been lost the moment he touched her the first time, was lost still in the shift of his hips and the way he whispered her name like a caress as he kissed his way down her throat. She wanted to be lost with him, to float away, never to be found. There was no man in the world who could make her feel the way he did, and she knew, even if he were to die tomorrow, she would never find a man who could complete her the way he did. She would walk around with a Robert Nolan shaped hole in her that no one could fill.

  And she knew what it felt like to be without him. Knew what it felt like to believe she’d never see him again. It made this moment even more heady and blissful than it would have been, and she gave herself to him without reserve, like she had from the beginning, when his images, his talent, his beautiful, amazingly creative mind had awakened a fire in her that still burned for him, an eternal flame.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered, arching up toward him. “Make me forget everything but this.”

  And he did, his fingers working swiftly on the buttons of her blouse, the hooks on her bra. Her skirt unzipped in the back and he rolled her over to get it, making her moan into the pillow when his teeth sank into her bottom, gently nibbling her behind. Her garters and stockings came off too, and then she was nude on his bed—their bed—on her back again, looking up at him, his heated gaze moving over her body in the slant of light from the skylight above.

  “I’m still fat from Grace,” Leah murmured, running her hands over her belly, no longer taut and smooth. Her hips swelled outward now, the indentation of her waist a deeper curve.

  “You’re beautiful.” Rob peeled off his shirt, leaning in to kiss her belly, lick her navel, making her shiver in response. She pulled him to her, reaching for his belt and unbuckling him. He moaned when she slipped her hand into his boxers, finding him satisfyingly hard.

  “I want you,” she whispered, squeezing his hips between her thighs, rocking up toward his erection, his trousers and boxers still in the way. “Please, Rob. Please.”

  “Yes, sweetheart,” he agreed, acknowledging her desperate longing, but he took his time anyway, kissing her nipples,
running his tongue around her areolas, darker than they used to be before she’d given birth. She had been embarrassed by them, but Rob seemed fascinated with the changes in her body from her darker nipples to her fuller hips to the stubble growing in between her legs—they had insisted on shaving her while she was in labor with Grace.

  The first time they’d made love after she came home from Magdalene House, she had cried through it. Not because she was sad, although she was. No one had touched her there since Grace had passed from her womb into the world, and just the shock of being entered by him was enough to bring up that sadness. But they had cried together, faces buried in each other’s throats, had made love and cried for the time they’d lost, the child they’d created together who was still missing, and they’d cried because they had found each other again, were together like this, loving each other.

  Now they were hungry, greedy, and Leah begged him to do it, please, put it in me, I want you, I need you, now, now, and Rob let her tug and twist and pull at him while he bathed her nipples with his tongue and she tried to guide him in. He only gave up to her need when she grabbed his hair, making a fist, and pulled his head up to hers, shoving her tongue deep into his mouth.

  “Yes!” Leah cried out in triumph as Rob shifted his hips and slid inside of her, burying himself deep and staying there, holding his breath as he held himself above her.

  “Okay?” he murmured, just like he had the first time after she’d come home, checking to make sure she wasn’t in any pain. She tried to tell him she was healed—the stitches had dissolved, the bleeding long ago stopped—but he had hesitated, insisting on making sure.

  “Yes, yes,” she whispered impatiently. Rob began to move inside of her, slow and easy—far too easy for Leah’s liking. She whimpered and clawed at him, shifting her hips up to meet his easy thrusts.

  “Rob!” she gasped. “Please!”

  He knew what she wanted, but he was holding back intentionally. She hit him on the shoulder, giving a frustrated sigh, and he chuckled.

  “Tell me,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear. “Tell me, Leah. Tell me what you want.”

  “You know what I want!” she cried.

  “I want you to tell me.” He teased her, shifting his hips just slightly. “I want to hear you say the words.”

  She groaned, grabbing the back of his head again, his hair easy to clench in her fist, growling into his ear, “Do it! Fuck me!”

  Rob moaned at the sound of the words from her mouth and he kissed her, plunging deep. Leah sighed in relief, wrapping her long, dancer’s legs around his hips, her heels digging into his back, driving him in deeper.

  “Do it to me!” she begged him, feeling each thrust deep in her belly as he drove her across the sheets on the bed. “Yes! Fuck me! Oh like that! Yes, yes, yes!”

  She felt him begin to slow and knew he was close, too close. Reaching her hand down between their bellies, she began to rub her sex, faster and faster. Rob paused to watch her, his eyes growing dark with lust as he watched her pleasure herself.

  “Come for me,” he whispered, his gaze moving up to her face, their eyes locking. “Now, sweetheart. Now. Come right now.”

  “Now!” Leah gasped, taking herself there, her muscles clamping around him again and again as she climaxed, head thrown back, fingers making fast, furious circles at the top of her throbbing cleft.

  “Oh! Now!” Rob roared, pulling back and thrusting one time, just once, the rhythmic, telltale pulse of his orgasm chasing hers as he exploded inside of her.

  Leah didn’t let him go. She kept him right there, still inside of her, cradling him against her breasts—they were fuller now too—and pulling the sheet over their sweaty bodies.

  “What an awful day,” Leah said with a sigh, watching the snow fall through the skylight.

  Rob chuckled. “Merry Christmas, huh?”

  “Well, it started out well,” Leah mused, looking at the ring on her finger. She kissed the top of his head. “And it ended well. It was the middle part that was awful.”

  He raised his head to look at her. “I have some news that might cheer you up.”

  “What?”

  “There’s good news and bad news,” he said cautiously.

  She made a face. “What’s the good news?”

  “I found a lawyer who says he can get baby Grace back.”

  “Oh, Rob!” She threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. Then she pulled back, frowning. “Wait, what’s the bad news?”

  “The bad news...” He cleared his throat. “Well, the bad news is…it’s Donald Highbrow.”

  Leah blinked at him, confused, and then she finally recognized the name. “Donald Highbrow? The lawyer my mother works for?”

  “He’s the best, Leah,” Rob explained. “He specializes in adoption law. And there aren’t many lawyers who do.”

  “Oh I don’t care.” She kissed him again, too thrilled at the thought of getting her baby back. Her arms ached, they literally ached, to hold her. And poor Rob—he’d never gotten the chance to hold her at all. Every day that went by was a day they could never get back.

  “I love you, Leah,” he whispered, nuzzling his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. “I would do anything to make you happy.”

  “You do,” she whispered back. “You do.”

  When Leah was a little girl, she couldn’t pronounce the name of the man her mother worked for, so she called him Mr. Eyebrows—instead of Mr. Highbrow—and the nickname had stuck in her head ever since. She couldn’t help thinking it, even if she didn’t call him that, when the lawyer shook hands with Rob across the table before they all sat down.

  Seeing her mother sitting at her desk, answering the phone, had been a shock to Leah’s system, but Rob had assured her, if anyone could get Grace back, it was Donald Highbrow, so she was willing to risk the awkward silence, sitting in the dark paneled waiting room, listening to the clack of her mother’s typewriter, occasionally interrupted by the phone.

  When her mother announced, “He’ll see you now,” Leah and Rob stood together, holding hands, and Leah dared her mother with her eyes to say something, but she didn’t. Patty Wendt just waved them into another dark paneled room with a conference table in the middle surrounded by big leather upholstered chairs. Clearly, after the fiasco on Christmas, her mother had received the message loud and clear—Leah was nowhere near ready to “kiss and make up.”

  Especially since she fully believed her mother had something to do with Grace’s kidnapping, even if she couldn’t prove it. Leah insisted on calling it a kidnapping, although everyone from her own mother to Erica to the doctor who had written her a prescription for sleeping pills had tried to dissuade her, even giving her helpful, alternative phrases like “forced-adoption” and “disappearance” and her favorite and her mother’s—”the mixup.”

  “Leah, you’re looking well.” Donald smiled as reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat, pulling out a Bic ballpoint pen and slapping a yellow legal pad onto the desk.

  Leah shrugged, not knowing what to say to that, considering the last time she’d seen him, she had been placed in four-point restraints and had so many sedatives and various other drugs in her system, she saw three of him walking into the hospital room, with three of her mother bringing up the rear.

  “As I told you, we’ve fully cooperated with law enforcement, but they haven’t been much help,” Rob began, looking at Leah and squeezing her hand in reassurance.

  Donald snorted, scribbling on his notepad. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Neither am I,” Rob agreed with a sigh. “That’s why I hired a private investigator immediately, but so far, he’s been unable to turn up anything.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  Rob shook his head sadly. “It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “Well, that’s unlikely.” Donald wrote something else down, frowning. “But if Leah’s recount of the story is accurate, and she really was coerced or fo
rced into signing the adoption papers—”

  “She tricked me!”

  “Yes, well, if that’s the case, the social worker will have gone out of her way to put Grace somewhere inaccessible.”

  “Far away?”

  “Probably,” Donald agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t get her back. It just means private investigators aren’t going to be much help. We’re going to have to do this legally.”

  Rob nodded. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “Leah, I know it’s painful, but I want you to tell me again what happened. Everything you can remember about the day Grace was… the day she was—”

  “Kidnapped.” Leah reached for a glass and the water pitcher sitting in the middle of the table, pouring and then sipping, giving herself time and the courage to go back to that day. It had only been a little over two weeks—two weeks!—but it felt like a lifetime.