Paul led Grace down the steps and onto a ledge that ran the length of the room. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Glad you came?”
“How could you possibly leave here?”
“It’s home away from home. It’s what I have to look forward to,” he replied. “C’mon, I’ll show you the rest.”
Paul toured Grace through 6,000 square feet of pristine architecture. The house uniquely decorated with furniture from all over the world. Original artwork adorned the walls, allowing Grace to feel the essence of each culture as she went from room to room.
“This one’s my favorite,” Paul said, guiding Grace into a large room with French doors leading onto a terrace. “Come on,” he said, opening the door. “You’ll like the view.” He stepped outside with Grace in tow.
“I can touch the stars,” she said, twirling as she reached for the sky. The wind whipped through her hair as salt air cleansed her soul. Settling into Paul’s arms, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he responded, kissing her cheek.
“Make love to me,” she said suddenly, as she turned to face him.
“We’ve just met Grace,” he said, meeting her gaze.
“I’m not looking for Mr. Right. I’m looking for Mr. Right now.”
“Must be the alcohol talking. You don’t seem the type.”
“That was before I realized every moment counts.”
“If you want a thrill, I’ll take you parasailing. But if you want me, it’s going to take longer than a moment.” “Is that a no?” she teased.
“That’s a not yet,” he replied in a convincing tone.
Paul went back into the house, returning with blankets, glasses, and a bottle of sparkling cider. They wound their way down wooden steps, drenched in moonlight to the beach below. After smoothing the blanket over the warm sand, they removed their shoes. Grace fell to her knees and reached for the heavens. “Can you see me, Wilde?”
She took a glass of cider from Paul and ran to the water’s edge. She held her glass high and shouted, “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened!” Paul held her tightly while her body writhed with grief. When she finished, he dabbed her tears with his shirt tail.
“Now your tears will blend with the sea and live forever,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast. “Here’s to life, right here, right now.” His eyes glistened in the moonlight as he descended upon her with a tender kiss. “I am truly sorry for your loss,” he whispered against her lips. He gathered her close until she could no longer tell which heartbeat was hers. At that moment, she felt no pain.
Icy water and bubbling foam swirled around their ankles. “C’mon,” he said, taking her hand, “before we get carried out to sea.” He led her back to shore and eased her down onto a soft blanket. Her toes dug deep into the warm sand as he positioned his body inches from hers. His eyes captured her sadness and she surrendered.
“Please don’t leave me,” she said, pulling him close.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“Good,” she said, snuggling deeper into his arms. The sound of waves crashing on the shore lulled her from the final minutes of a miserable day. Paul stroked her hair in a rhythmic motion, causing heat to stir below. Her thoughts moved like a freight train, slow at first, then picking up speed.
She imagined Paul’s urgent kisses covering her face, her neck. His tongue, trailing between her breasts as his thumbs teased hardened peaks. She thrust forward as he reached to unfasten her bra, but suddenly he stopped, leaving her posed like a pin-up girl.
“We can’t,” he moaned, “I didn’t bring any protection. Did you?” “No,” she said gasping for air.
“We can make-out—” His laugh was wicked as he murmured sweet intentions in her ear.
“Oh, yesss.” She lay still, focused on the stars while his hand traveled from her ribcage to her belly. Then slipping beneath her clothing, he touched her bare skin. “We have to sensible about this.”
“Better to be safe,” he said, nibbling her ear. He stretched one leg across her body and held her down. Leaning on one elbow, he began exploring his catch. Grace struggled to free herself.
“Relax, Grace. Let me see what I’m getting myself into.”
“If you keep touching me like that, there’s going to be trouble.”
“No,” he said sternly, “we have to behave. This is going to be therapeutic. Now relax.”
Groggy, Grace awoke, broke free from her fantasy and from Paul’s arms. She popped up to check her watch. “What time is it? I can’t–”
“Relax Grace,” he said, massaging the back of her neck. “Let me work on these knots.”
“That feels amazing,” she said, melting under his touch. A tingling sensation radiated through her body. Right here. Right now.
She moved closer.
“Turn over,” his smoky voice commanded.
She obeyed, and when he straddled her legs and began massaging the tight muscles in her shoulders and back, she could feel the heat from his manhood move along her torso. While his strong hands kneaded her flesh, she let go and returned to her dream.
“Je serai là pour vous; you’ll see,” he said softly. Grace began to snore.
***
“Wake up, Sunshine!” Paul demanded, shaking Grace’s limp form.
“Where—?” Grace jerked. She patted the red-satin coverlet, looking for clues. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dim light. The sound of the ocean put her at ease. She wiggled her bare toes and peeked under the blanket. Everything was intact. “Oh my God. What time is it?” she groaned.
“Five-o-five. I brought you coffee.” Paul pointed to the travel mug he was holding. “To-go cup.”
“How did I get here? We were on the beach last I remember.” She tried to fluff the curls stuck to the side of her head. I must look a sight, she thought.
“I carried you up here.” Paul bent his elbow to flex his muscles.
“Well, Hercules, do you think you could show me where I can freshen up?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll escort you downstairs. You have five minutes before the sun comes up. You don’t want to miss it.”
Grace hurried. Paul’s excitement made her want to share the experience. She finished her nature call, splashed cold water on her face, and rinsed her mouth. Paul looked fresh; she resembled something the cat dragged in. Her reflection concurred. Who cares? The sun won’t wait.
“All set, Luscious?” Paul grabbed her hand before she could answer.
When they reached the beach, Grace stopped.
“Paul, you— Oh, my God! When did you do all of this?” Grace was referring to the bowl of fruit, a gingham-covered basket, and two crystal goblets filled with orange juice—all strategically placed on a small table covered with white linen.
“I have to eat something in the morning,” he said, nonchalant.
“What about you?”
“I usually have coffee and a donut.”
“Me too!” He pulled back the checkered cloth, exposing glazed donuts neatly arranged in two rows. “The fruit was just in case.”
They sat in beach chairs, cheering as the orange ball emerged from behind the coastal hills. Seagulls squawked, dipping and diving for their breakfast. Waves crashed against the rocks spraying mist along the shore. The morning breeze carried the scent of seaweed and something familiar.
“I smell roses,” she said.
“Up there,” he pointed.
Grace’s jaw dropped. The far corner of the house dripped with color.
Paul squeezed her hand. “My Grandma loved roses. We can pick some on our way out, as a memento of our get-a-way.”
Grace leaned back in her chair. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt so good. She didn’t want to leave. She hadn’t been this relaxed in…how long? She couldn’t remember.
While they gathered the remnants of their breakfast, Paul began to
sing. Grace was impressed with his voice as he crooned into his empty juice glass, pretending it was a microphone. Grace joined in, feeling giddy.
When they were packed and ready to leave, Paul presented Grace with a rose bouquet. She sat quietly by his side, inhaling fragrant blooms. She absorbed every detail she could before they reached the highway: the lush canopy of trees and wildflowers peppered between ancient rock formations. Birds swooped and chittered good naturedly after a night’s rest. The world came to life.
Everything is perfect.
“You snore,” he joked, breaking the silence.
“Impossible! I was having a fabulous dream,” she said.
“Fabulous? What about?” he asked, pressing his shoulder against hers.
“Secret,” she teased. “Besides, it was just a dream.”
When they arrived back at the Park Lounge, Paul walked Grace to her car. He kissed her tenderly before they parted. He watched her go before getting back in his car and driving away.
He was happy. Life was good. He didn’t notice the car that pulled away from the curb.
***
White knuckles squeezed the steering wheel as Jess kept his distance behind Paul’s car on the freeway entrance ramp.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he seethed. “She isn’t some fucking pick-up you meet at a bar and spend the night with! She’s my Grace!” His fist came down hard, missing the wheel and hitting the horn. The driver, one car over, sneered and gave Jess the finger.
“Fuck you, too!” Jess yelled.
Although the man didn’t hear what Jess said, he got the gist and raced ahead. Jess cut sharply into Paul’s lane and sped up, riding the man’s bumper until their road rage was squelched by a semi-truck that merged right. It put distance between Jess, the irate driver, and Paul.
“Damnit!” Jess shouted, slamming his brakes. Asshole! He swerved around the semi, exited the freeway, and headed back downtown. Two blocks from the courthouse, he pulled his car to the curb and reached for his cell phone.
“Grace, call me. I miss you.” He snapped his phone shut and continued driving another block, where he parked his car. Flipping the visor, he slid open the lighted mirror. While straightening his tie and smoothing his hair, he stared at his reflection. Bloodshot eyes stared back. “You need to get more sleep, buddy boy.” When reached for his briefcase, something caught his eye. He stretched over the console to pick up the tiny object from the floor mat. A filling? He examined it carefully. No. He smiled, rolling the gold between his thumb and forefinger. I’ll be darned. The back from one of Jenna’s earrings. He slipped the shiny object into his shirt pocket. So that’s where that went.
***
Grace set her flowers on the dining-room table. Not here. She carried them to the kitchen. Nuh, uh. Sneaky followed as she went from room to room admiring the roses in different settings. Finally, she brought them upstairs where she placed them on the vanity next to her sink. As she got into the shower, she snuck one more peek through the glass door. Paul’s words made her smile. A memento of our get-a-way.
When the phone rang, Grace didn’t listen for a message. By then she had worked liquid soap into a rich lather and she imagined the suds sliding between her breasts, and down her body were Paul’s kisses. Rosey peaks hardened thinking of how she and Paul made love in her dream last night. In the dream, Paul’s tongue flickered and teased each breast, driving her wild. Again, she imagined what it would feel to have his soft lips on her nipples, sucking gently, slowly. She began to moan. One soapy hand slid down her stomach as the other kneaded a breast. She imagined his fingers pressed between her legs exploring her silky sweetness. His touch quickened in her fantasy, so did her breathing. She wanted him. She imagined herself ready to take him when… Something crashed.
Grace jumped.
She pushed open the shower door to investigate.
“Sneaky!”
Sneaky sniffed at the pile of roses lying on the floor. The dog covered her muzzle with a paw and sneezed.
“Oh, you,” she scolded, stepping from the shower and dripping suds. She grabbed the towel she was planning to dry herself with and tossed it over the puddle on the floor. After picking up broken glass, she set the roses on the side of the tub and retrieved a tall, slender, candle holder from the linen closet. Once she placed each flower in the container, she stepped back into the shower. Before she pulled the door shut, she turned to admire her roses and froze. I thought I closed the bathroom window? Her skin prickled.
“Stop it!” she cried aloud. “Stop driving yourself crazy!” I don’t remember. She slammed the window shut, locked it, and returned to the shower. Hot water turned tepid, she hurried to rinse. “Nothing is going to spoil my day.”
CHAPTER 12
OPEN WINDOW
G race greeted Arlene Pratt in the waiting room. Arlene was dressed in her usual pea-green T-shirt and beige polyester slacks. Except today, her clothes were wrinkled Her hair was matted on one side, and she reeked.
“Let’s go into my office, Arlene.” Grace walked behind her client, confirming her suspicions. The woman weaved her way down the hall and plopped onto the couch. She was drunk.
“Did you ride the bus today?” Grace inquired.
“Misty brought me in her car.”
“Misty? Your neighbor?”
“She has a pretty car.”
“That’s right. I remember you telling me that.” Grace sat back, crossing her legs. So much for my perfect day, she thought. Paul’s image faded from her mind. She cleared her throat, needing to focus. Her smile remained.
“How have you been, Arlene?”
“Adelle is dead,” the woman groaned.
“Yes. Adelle died a long time ago.”
Arlene began to cry. This show of emotion was new to Grace.
“Can you tell me what you’re feeling, Arlene?”
“I did it,” she sniffed. “I opened the door.”
“What door? What door did you open?” Grace’s tone was gentle, but firm.
“Those boys—I let them in.”
“Do you remember what happened that day?” Grace had never expected a breakthrough with Arlene. The woman had been in the same mental condition for years. With the exception of an occasional drinking binge, nothing had changed. Arlene remained a child, locked in her own little world. She spoke in riddles and suffered from paranoia. When she drank, she wanted to kill somebody—anybody, everybody. She went to the cemetery every Sunday to celebrate her dead sister’s birthday but evaded any questions about the home invasion robbery or the rape that occurred eighteen years ago.
“I opened the door,” she bawled.
“What happened after you opened the door?” Grace reached for Arlene’s hand.
“They pushed me. Daddy hollered at me.”
“He was scared.”
“He was mad!” Arlene’s eyes opened wide.
“Why do you think he was mad?”
“He said, ‘no boys in the house.’” Arlene pulled her hand away from Grace.
“It wasn’t your fault, Arlene. The boys weren’t invited. You didn’t know.”
“He broke Adelle’s nose! Daddy didn’t do nothin’. He laid on the floor looking at me. He was mad!”
“Maybe he couldn’t move. Maybe his eyes were open, but he couldn’t move because he was hurt.”
Arlene looked at Grace perplexed. She let Grace’s explanation mill around in her brain. Her eyes moved back and forth. Her mind struggled to process the information.
“He was dead,” Arlene decided.
“Yes, he was dead,” Grace agreed.
Arlene’s chin began to quiver. Her shoulders shook. She remembered. Why? Grace was curious. Why does she remember after all this time?
“Did you go to the cemetery on Adelle’s birthday?”
“Yes.” Arlene picked up her purse and tucked it under her arm.
“Did something happen?”
“Adelle’s dead!” Arlene spouted off. �
��They kicked her, bit her, and bounced on top of her with her panties down. The fat boy broke her nose.” Grace’s stomach flipped.
“And then what? Tell me what happened next, Arlene. Can you do that?”
Arlene searched Grace’s eyes for answers. Her face bunched while tears flowed. She made a noise in her throat, sounding like a wounded animal. Grace’s ears strained to hear Arlene’s words.
“They…they did it to me, too.” Suddenly, Arlene charged the sofa, growling and kicking the cushions. She’s remembering what happened. She’s fighting them off.
“Kick ‘em!” Grace said, between gritted teeth. “Kick ‘em as hard as you can.” Grace’s eyes filled with tears watching Arlene fend off her imaginary attackers. When the memory played out, Grace held the broken woman in her arms.
“You did it, Arlene. You finally hurt them back for what they did to you and Adelle.” Grace tenderly pushed the hair from Arlene’s eyes. “Your mom and dad would be so proud of you.” Arlene buried her face on Grace’s shoulder and sobbed.
“That’s it,” Grace whispered warmly. “Get it all out. It’s all right.” But Grace’s eyes turned cold as the confession from Tiny Burton’s so-called dream resonated in her head. “I heard her nose break.”
***
Grace was having difficulty making it through the day. Her mind raced with disturbing thoughts and her friend wasn’t there to steer. Sal had taken the day off to have her final chemo treatment. Her white-blood-cell count is down. All good signs, right? Grace chewed the inside of her lip. Aside from the weight loss, Sal seemed to be doing great. She’d experienced very little nausea and only slight neuropathy and tingling in her legs. Her concern for the side-effects caused by chemical solvents used to deliver the treatment into her system convinced her to find a doctor who used human proteins instead. The procedure took only thirty minutes. Each time Sal wanted to return to work afterward, but Grace insisted she take the time to rest, watch a funny movie, and hang out with John, the love of her life.
Grace’s nerves hummed beneath her skin. I carry everyone’s burdens, I need to unload. She dialed Dr. Meltz.
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