by Lorena May
“There we go,” he said, turning to give her a lop-sided grin. A primal longing overtook her. A tingling coursed through her body, and she felt herself go slack as she looked at him through eyes that said, “Take me. Please.” They stood silently staring. She raised her chin toward his face.
“Chloe. Your parents. . . It’s not right.” He shook his head, taking a step back-ward, his face a mask of misery.
The dam burst inside her. Slowly, she placed her palms on his chest; warm and robust, heaving. She moved forward to lay her head against him, his heart thrumming in her ears, his heat flushing her cheek. Hesitantly, she felt his big hands encircle her shoulders, barely touching, then stroking her back. She raised her face to look into his eyes. “Steve,” she murmured, raising her lips to his. He took a long, shaky breath, his face twisted in a grimace. Then, he plunged into her mouth, his lips lush and pliable. Ah, an experienced man. His tongue pushed hard into her mouth, assailing her own. Two fierce combatants. His hands moved to raise her hips, pulling her into him. Draping her arms around his neck she wrapped her legs around his waist, causing him to fall back against the fender of her car. He shivered as she ground herself into his midriff. She was all nerve-endings; all desire and he was completely hers.
“Steve, my parents love you. And so do I.”
A week later they stood looking at the satin-swathed displays in Tiffany’s Jewelry. Chloe shrugged shyly and pointed. “I really like that one”.
Holding up her fine, slim hand, she observed it sparkling in the bright store lights. He’d been wrong. This was so very, very right.
Chapter 5
~ Chloe, July, 2014
Organ music and enormous bouquets of white lilies filled the church. Big bows decked the ends of oak pews. The tone was reverent with a touch of festivity. Chloe felt it; vibrant excitement. The beginning of her new life.
When she and Steve first told her parents of their plans they were met with shock and hesitation.
“Harrumph.” Her father looked down at his shoes. “Steve, you’re a good friend. A fine man. But - forgive me - you’re old enough to be her father.”
“We hoped you’d go to University before you married,” her mother added.
Chloe was nothing if not persuasive. Smiling, she hugged her parents one by one, kissing their cheeks, bantering. “Mom, Dad, you know I’m not like other girls my age. I assure you. I’m ready. I can help Steve with his restaurants and take business classes part-time. This way I’ll get hands-on experience to practice what I learn.”
Steve’s plea was heart-felt. “John, Helen, I love your daughter. I promise she will achieve everything you hoped for her. And I will take very good care of her.”
Steve’s children didn’t take the news easily. He’d planned an outing with them at their favorite local restaurant, asking if they minded Chloe coming along.
“Why does she have to come?” cried his oldest daughter, Melissa.
“Can’t it be just us, Dad?” Ben, his son, begged.
But Chloe met them a few minutes after they had arrived and been seated. She breezed in, cheerful and beaming. “I’m so happy to meet you,” she said, giving each her warmest smile.
The meal continued pleasantly enough until Steve dropped the bomb. “Kids, I’m happy to tell you that Chloe and I are getting married.” The air thickened; became suddenly frosty. Forks clattered to the table and the three children, open-mouthed, stared at their father.
“What about Mom?” asked ten-year-old Sandra.
Steve reached out to touch her arm, looking into her eyes. “Sandy, your mom and I are divorced. We’re not getting back together.”
Chloe attempted cheerful conversation, but there was no saving the evening. Finally, she slid from her chair nodding solemnly at each child. “I’m sorry to have upset you. I love your father. I promise I will be a good wife to him, and you know you will always be welcome in our home.” They looked down at their half-eaten plates and said nothing. Blowing Steve a kiss, Chloe slipped away like a thief in the night.
The wedding was to be an intimate affair. After all, Steve had only been divorced a few months. Helen delighted in planning the event, and Chloe was happy to let her. She had bigger fish to fry. Steve owned an upscale restaurant chain, The Ritz, with five locations throughout Western Canada. They were doing well, but Chloe had ambitions. They would become the biggest, the most successful, classiest restaurants across the country if she had her way. From the time they announced their wedding to the day itself, she had visited each establishment, speaking to patrons about their likes and dislikes. She’d visited high-class restaurants in Ottawa, Calgary and Vancouver to check on menus, décor, prices, and what diners had to say. Her head spun with ideas.
But, first things first. Marriage. Waiting at the back of the church, she watched the tiny congregation. Steve and Ben stood at the front. Steve’s daughters, Melissa and Sandra, sat stone-faced in the front row. Beside them, leaning back, his elbows resting on the pew, was Steve’s business-partner, Gabe. Despite their common interest, Chloe hadn’t yet met him. From where she stood she saw thick, blonde hair, a strong jaw covered with light stubble, and wide cheek-bones. Everything about him screamed ‘bad boy’. Even from that distance. So different from the man she was about to marry.
Like an alarm, the wedding march began. The audience jerked to attention, and stood. Chloe’s school friend, Alison, walked solemnly down the aisle, her bouquet shaking a little.
Flanked by her proud parents, the bride glided ahead, eyeing her admirers as she went.
Two friends from school stood awkwardly in their short skirts and high heals beaming at her. Steve’s daughters, dressed to the nines, stared straight ahead. Gabe rose with a devilish swagger, and stood grinning, his eyes flashing a knowing look as he took in the young bride. He wore a black leather jacket over his white t-shirt, and Gucci skinny-jeans, emphasizing his muscular legs and butt. An uncomfortable fluttering filled Chloe’s stomach. Her breath caught, and she looked away toward Steve, who smiled lovingly at her through tear-filled eyes. Steve’s son, dressed in an expensive suit, his thick brown hair newly cut in the latest style, stood beside the groom, eyes downcast.
How could he not gawk at the beautiful bride? Everyone else was. Head high, she floated up the aisle, her thick, red curls loosely gathered in white flowers. Her dress flowed, a simple white silk that emphasized her slim, young body. Chloe’s bright green eyes glowed as she endowed each guest with a warm, wide smile. As she reached the nave where Steve stood her eyes lit up, filled with love and longing. He, in turn, gaped. She pressed a hand to her throat, overcome.
Chapter 6
~ Chloe
What was Steve thinking? Hiring Ana! Chloe sips cabernet and sits back, her fingers thumbing through today’s receipts. The last patrons have left – finally! A group of the town’s most successful businessmen – loud and obnoxious when they drink–ass-holes, really, who expect to be catered to. And, of course, they are. Chloe sighs. One of the pitfalls of the entertainment business. Grit your teeth, and smile. She’s very good at that.
Shoving the receipts to the side, she reclines, drinking and watching the staff as they finish up for the day. Ana gathers dishes from a table near the window, smiling a little. What is her expression? Embarrassment? Shyness? Coquettishness? Chloe can’t quite figure her out. Her spidey sense kicks in. Ah! Gabe sprawls in a chair by the table next to Ana guzzling a beer, a tantalizingly teasing expression on his handsome face. Chloe can’t hear what he’s saying to Ana, but it’s having quite an effect. Ana is pretending to ignore him, but clearly, she’s enjoying the banter. And she’s sure taking a long time clearing that table! So sexy! She’s trouble.
Tom is setting tables in the front corner of the restaurant. Chloe suppresses a giggle. An interesting little drama is taking place before her eyes. Tom almost throws the cutlery at the table. His face is red and tight, and every so often he glares openly at the little flirtation going on across the room. It’ll be amusing .
. . As long as it doesn’t affect the running of the restaurant. A sobering thought.
She reaches for the bottle and pours herself another glass of wine, only half filling it in case anyone is noticing.
They’re not. Ana is finished with the table she’s been clearing – finally. She turns to walk past where Gabe sits, eyes straight ahead, pretending she doesn’t notice him. The girl’s a babe in the woods! Or is she? He sticks his leg out in front of her, chuckling softly, then flashes one of his startling smiles. She stops and turns to look at him, unable to suppress a smile. What’s he saying to her? Chloe is dying to hear. Something cute and frisky, she can be sure. Ana blushes and shakes her head a little, daintily prancing around his feet, and heads off to the kitchen. Tom stands watching, waits a moment, and follows her, glaring at Gabe as he passes by.
“Hey, Baby. Leave that poor little girl alone.” Mona struts in, waggling a finger at her boss. She sidles up close, tousling Gabe’s hair, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. Chloe listens to his laugh, watches Mona plop down on a chair across from him, plunking her beer on the table. She crosses her shapely legs and turns toward Chloe.
“Hey, lady, get over here and chill with us,” she hollers.
Gabe smiles fetchingly at her. “We wantcha bad,” he drawls.
Chloe arches her brow, taking another sip of wine.
“We do!” Mona beckons with her finger. “We need an old, experienced broad to schmooze.”
Sniggering, Chloe picks up the receipts and her wine glass. She slips into a chair next to Mona. “Another good day,” she chirps. “Must be doing something right.” She pushes the pile of receipts toward Gabe.
He gives her a twinkling wink, chuckling “You don’t have to sell me, Honey. You’re a wonder-worker. A wonder-worker with a fine, fine ass.”
She sniffs. Mona chortles. “Time to relax, Boss. It’s all good. That little lady Steve hired oughta bring ‘em in!”
“She’s a hottie for sure,” Gabe smirks, holding his palms up as if to shield himself from an onslaught. “To look at. Not to touch. Got it.”
Chapter 7
~ Grace
A breeze rustles the thread-bare curtains that hang, limp, in Grace’s window, brushing her sunken cheek. It feels good. Idly, she gazes out onto the street. A paper cup dances along the sidewalk. It’s windy out there. Old Joe is slumped drunkenly against the stained brick wall of the Transit Hotel, oblivious to a group of loud bikers gathered nearby. Grace turns and picks up the worn leather diary from the dresser, letting it fall open. Its pages are stained and crinkled. There are no dates now, only writing that begins with a rounded, child-like script and becomes uneven and shaky, sloping downward. Fingering the cross she wears around her neck, she flips through, reading her life story.
‘Lyn is so strong. I’m proud of her. When the social worker visits she doesn’t show her sickness at all. We woke up early this Christmas morning and opened our gifts. I made her a red friendship bracelet at school and she loved it. Lyn gave me Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and a pink velour jumpsuit. I love them. Papa came for breakfast and we had a great time playing scrabble. I won!’
‘They are taking me away from Lyn. We both cried all morning. She gave me her cross necklace to keep forever. Lyn says I am a smart and good girl and don’t forget that. She says I can do or be anything I choose.’
Grace’s eyes blur. She wipes them with her t-shirt and turns the page.
‘I miss Lyn so much. Five other foster kids live here. Monica is okay but she has lots of rules. The other kids think I’m a baby. I sneak into the girl bedroom to read and be alone. Then the others come in.’
‘I peed the bed again last night and Monica made me wear a diaper around the house in front of the other kids. They all laughed.’
‘At school we had Valentine’s Day and I only got two valentines. Everybody else had piles on their desks. Nobody plays with me at recess.’
‘The kids call me Stink at school and at home. They hold their noses around me. But Monica says there isn’t room in the bathroom for a bath before school and I just have to smarten up. I try staying awake but I always fall asleep and pee.’
‘Monica has had it up to here and I’m going to another foster home next week as soon as they can fix it. I hope I can have my own bed.’
‘Joan is nice and I get to help her with the baby, Allie. I love the smell and feel of Allie. The dad is Greg. He looks at me funny and touches my bum.’
‘Joan lets me change Allie’s diaper and hold her and play with her. Then Allie giggles and it fills me with a tickly, happy feeling inside.’
‘He came into my room again last night. I pretend I am asleep and he touches me and rubs me. I want him to stop but I’m scared. But I’m lucky because I can have a bath every morning here.’
‘Joan says I have to leave. I am tempting Greg, she says. I held Allie for a long time today rocking her and crying. I wish I could take her with me.’
‘My new school is big and everyone wears designer clothes. I like my teacher. She has blonde curly hair and is very pretty. I watched the other kids play four-square at recess. I wish they would let me play’.
Suddenly there is a sharp tapping on the door. Belinda? Who else knows she lives here?
“Belinda?” There is no answer. Grace skims the room with her eyes making sure there is nothing in sight to rip off. Gingerly, she rises, and shuffles to the door. Her hand touches the handle. “Who is it?”
The voice is silvery; clear and pleasant. Who speaks that way? “Grace, please open the door.”
She feels her heart race, and a kind of foreboding overtakes her.
“I won’t leave until I see you. It hasn’t been easy finding you.”
Grace scratches her arms, her insides quivering. Her breath comes in little gasps. Slowly, she turns the door knob and opens it a crack. She peeks through. A rush of adrenaline shoots through her body. Her arms fall limp to her sides and she stares.
Chapter 8
~ Chloe and Grace
Tall, confident and professional looking, the woman looks out of place in this grubby walk-up apartment building. She stands calmly, a close-lipped smile on her face. Grace gapes. Gasps. Stumbles backward. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Chloe?”. She opens the door, ducking behind it.
Chloe steps into the doorway of the pitiful little suite, her green eyes pinning Grace’s. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? How hard it’s been to find you?”
Grace slumps against the door-jam gawping. She wants to run and hide. But how? Hanging onto the knob for dear life, she lowers her eyes to stare at the floor.
“Can I come in?” Chloe asks, finally.
Grace inhales deeply, running her hands through her hair. A kind of dizziness overtakes her and she blunders toward the bed to perch on the edge of it. Chloe! After all these years!? She nods. “Yes. Yes, of course. Come in. It’s a mess and it’s not much . . .” She gestures toward the rickety chair by the window.
Chloe walks gracefully across the room and sits, showing no sign of distaste. She rests her forearms on her lap and crosses her legs, leaning toward her sister, an expression of love filling her face. A beautiful heart-shaped face with high, sculpted cheekbones, peaches and cream skin, shining emerald eyes, and full lips twisted into a smile. “Grace, I don’t care. I’m just glad to see you. After all these years. I’m here to help you. To do whatever you need.” She looks imploringly into Grace’s eyes. “I know it can’t have been easy for you.”
Grace shrugs into herself, hyper-aware of her emaciated body and grey skin. She gapes at her sister’s soft, delicately poised hands and perfect nails, the massive diamonds and gold sparkling on her fingers. Her mustard-colored jacket and matching dress, perfectly tailored and fitted.
Heat flushes Grace’s cheeks and neck, and she shrinks further into herself, relieved, at least, that her robe covers her arms. “Do you want coffee or something?”
Chloe shakes her head. “No. Just
to talk.”
“How did you find me?” Why? Just go!
Chloe hesitates. Should she tell her? Is this ghost of a woman really Grace? There’s no going back now. She struggles to keep the distress from her eyes, and smiles benignly at her sister’s dull eyes, wasted body, the mat of hair sticking out around her face. Grace’s bony shoulders slump forward and she picks and scratches her hands, fixated upon them.
“I hired a Private Investigator,” Chloe says apologetically. “I wanted to find you.”
Grace raises her eyes to look at her sister, and she is overcome with shame.
Silence. An interminable awkwardness hangs in the air. Finally, Chloe speaks. “Grace, I know I should have done it a long time ago. There’s no excuse. Please let me help you now.” Is there any way this specter could ever pass for a whole human being? My god, what’s happened to her?
Grace shrugs. “I’m okay.” And she draws her knees to her chest, shifting to lean against the rusty metal bed-post.
Chloe reaches into her pocket and draws out a photograph wrapped in purple silk. Slowly, reverently she unfolds the soft material, and gazes at it wistfully. “Remember this? It was a beautiful summer day and Lyn took us to the park. You fell off the monkey-bars, and I jumped down to make sure you were okay. You let me oooh and aaah over you and then we started to laugh. Remember? You weren’t used to seeing me like that. By the time Lyn got to us we were both in stitches. So she took a picture.” Chloe stands and holds the photo out to her sister, who cocks her head a little, her eyes taking on a glimmer of life.
Grace makes no move to touch the photograph, but she looks at it and the beginnings of a smile twitch her lips. She sees two small girls, their faces creased with laughter, red curls plastered on their sweaty cheeks and foreheads. Their bodies lean into each other. They are identical. The only difference between the two is the color of their t-shirts. One wears green and one wears yellow.