Echo of Redemption (12 page)

A moment later she turns on the water to the sink.

We are breathing hard and laughing.

It wasn’t our most intense encounter, but it was satisfying, and when I turn her in my arms, seeing her flushed and beaming. I know I won’t be able to stay away.

As we adjust our clothes, she takes me off guard, announcing, “I asked Garrett to marry me.”

She meets my gaze and I don’t really know what to say.

“He refused.”

I find my tongue, barely. “I’m sorry.”

She smiles and stands on tiptoe to kiss the corner of my mouth. “Don’t be. It’s not what I wanted, not really. I want the ménage, for better or worse, the three of us. I’m just afraid of what a baby means to us. I’m so desperately afraid of normalcy…it was an attempt to meet my fear head on.”

The water is still running and I reach behind her to turn it off. She hits the chrome button to the air dryer.

“I’m assuming Garrett guessed that.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know if he did or he didn’t. He accused me of wanting safe because I can’t count on you.”

I nod, hurt, feeling like a knife has been thrust into my chest. “Is that the way you see it?”

She kisses me, gently, and I let her, savoring the sweetness of her mouth. “I wouldn’t be here if I felt that way. I trust you with my life. Just don’t be long. I need you.
We
need you.”

I hold her close, ignoring the jiggling door handle behind us.

* * * *

I no more than return from my errands when George informs me, “Garrett called.”

I am immediately filled with guilt, knowing she might be in hot water with Garrett when she returns home to him, but my culpability takes backseat to my greater fear that he called here and the conversation may have been overheard by anyone
listening
, which makes me very nervous.

Kicking off my shoes in the foyer and then placing them in a small cabinet for storage, I join George in the living room where he is seated with his feet propped on an ottoman and doing a crossword puzzle.

Seeming to read my thoughts, he assures me, “Don’t worry. He didn’t say anything that would lead anyone to believe that
you or your brother
are here. He actually inquired as to whether or not I might be willing to shorten
my vacation
, and I assumed it was his way of inquiring about the status of your brother.”

Sitting in a chair opposite him, I ask, “What did you tell him?”

“That he needs to be prepared for me to be absent another few weeks.” George sets the crossword puzzle down and readjusts, putting his feet on the floor and leaning forward. “While you were away I took the liberty of having your brother’s first counseling session.”

By his tone I can imagine how badly that went.

“He refuses to admit he has a drug problem. He insists that his drug usage was a choice.” Dismissively, he adds, “We’ll get there, it will take some time, but I’ve cracked tougher shells. To be honest, I’m more worried about you.”

I meet his gaze and he covers one of my hands with his.
Oh
,
hell
.

“You’re avoiding Garrett and Kitten. I believe there is more going on than your fear that trouble may have followed your brother to town. Want to talk about it?”

My hand jerks under the weight of his hand and his fingers close tighter, holding mine. I warn him, “Don’t try to analyze me.”

“That isn’t my intent. I thought you might need a friend to talk to. You’ve been through a lot.” Thankfully, he releases my hand and sits back in his chair.

Since when did George start seeing us as friends?

“Your wife and children have been out of contact for almost a year?”

Don’t do this, George.

“You sought out an old flame that could have destroyed the ménage…has it?”

“No! Eva is past.”

His lips twitch. “Is she? Or was your brother’s arrival merely a convenient interruption?”

I let out a long slow breath, repeating, “She is in the past.”

“I assume you know that Kitten is pregnant?”

I nod, unacceptable emotion filling my chest.

“How do you feel about that?”

Stop
.
I stand abruptly, having taken all the interrogation I intend to.

“Your children are all but lost to you, and now you have the opportunity to start over with a new baby.”

Only supreme self-control keeps me from hitting him. “The baby she carries is not a replacement. My children are not replaceable!” I leave the room, cursing. I don’t need this. No one asked George to analyze
me
.

“Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boist’rous; and it pricks like thorn.”

William Shakespeare,
Romeo and Juliet

Kitten

The loft Thomas sent me to is in one of the few timber buildings left in San Francisco. An old factory converted into live-in, work-in units for artists. Not that I have ever understood how a struggling artist could afford almost a million dollars.

The real estate agent smiles too widely as she shows me the amenities. She is short, chubby, a little too perky, and afraid of getting her hands dirty as evidenced by the look of disgust when she has to turn a corroded door handle to show the bathroom.

“Twenty-four hundred square feet. And the light here is amazing. You didn’t say, do you paint?”

My palms and pits start sweating.
Don’t ask me any questions
,
lady
.
“I’m not much into small-talk. Will you accept a check today for seven hundred and fifty?”

She looks aghast. “Well, no. The bank is quite firm on the price.”

“You’re certain?”

She licks her lips, making me feel like she is lying. By taking less, her commission gets cut. I prop the checkbook on a countertop and write out
e
ight
h
undred
t
housand
d
ollars
, hoping that she will not notice that my hand is shaking. I hand it to her. “Will this buy me the keys today?”

She doesn’t even blink. She hands me the keys. “I’ll draw up the papers. Will you be available to sign the deed in the morning?”

“I will.”
God, please let me be available to sign the damn papers in the morning.

She leaves me and I look at the property Thomas just purchased. The walls and floors are painted black. The bathroom is a health hazard, and the kitchen is smaller than what I had in my dorm room at college. Remembering his brother stretched out on my table, tattoo covered and bullet-riddled, I decide the place is perfect.

I call Thomas from the provided cellphone. “It’s all yours. She wants me to sign the deed in the morning. Tell me how I’m supposed to escape Garrett’s notice a second morning in a row?”

“I’ll take care of Garrett.”

I’ll take care of Garrett.
“Before or after he kills me?”

“Sophia, you worry too much.”

Disgusted I ask, “What do you want me to do with the keys?”

“Toss them in a dumpster. I won’t need them.”

I blink, suddenly remembering my obstetrician appointment. “Oh, shit! What time is it?”

He doesn’t answer fast enough, and I hang up on him in an attempt to read the time on the phone’s screen.
Shit! I’m late.
Or will be by the time I cross town. No question about it. The cellphone immediately starts ringing and knowing it’s him, I don’t answer. I went two full weeks without a single word from him and there is nothing he can say to me now that I need to hear. The phone immediately starts ringing again, but I still don’t answer.
Let him worry about me for a change.

* * * *

My day couldn’t be easy. Dr. Moran’s office is downtown and midday traffic is a nightmare, the parking situation worse. By the time I reach the twelfth floor office, I’m frazzled. I peek around the corner between foyer and waiting room before entering. I’d hoped to arrive before Garrett but seeing him sitting across the room, I decide I will never have any luck at all as far as that man is concerned.

As nonchalantly as I can, I cross the room and sit down in one of the leather upholstered chairs. “I know. I’m late.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Only a few minutes.”

He doesn’t respond, not a look or a blink, or even a tap of an impatient finger.

The doctor’s waiting room is almost empty. Garrett, a woman who is so pregnant I don’t know how her stomach has kept from splitting wide open, and me. The woman’s name is called and she lumbers out of her chair. It is not an easy thing to do, standing, when you are trying to lift such a swollen stomach. Seeing me watching, she blushes. “Triplets.”

Her voice seems to waken Garrett from a slumber and he hurriedly stands to give her a hand up. I think she is made even more discomfited by his assistance, but she doesn’t refuse the help. It’s hard not to stare as she waddles…yes, waddles…out of sight. Oh God. I do not want to be here. I want desperately to wake up and find this is all a bad dream.

Another woman enters the lobby. She is carrying an infant car-seat-a-ma-jig, pink blanket dangling over the edge. A squeal of delight comes from the general area of the receptionist’s desk. Suddenly three women appear, bouncing up and down impatiently as the new mother unwraps layers to expose the baby. Although I never see so much as a head or a hand, I have to assume there is a baby by the amount of “oohing” and “ahhing”.

“Come around! Come around.”

The woman and bundle disappear through the entry door, after which much excited chatter ensues. Eavesdropping, I learn that she is an employee and that she is on maternity leave. Obviously, she waited until closing time to arrive.

One of the nurses comes to the door and calls my name. I stand, thinking Garrett will stand too, but he doesn’t. “Will you come in with me?”

He finally looks at me, but I can’t read his expression. I wonder if he reads guilt in mine. I’m trying, really, really trying not to betray Thomas, but I don’t know how I’m going to get through tonight with Garrett acting this way without giving him some explanation.
I was at work. I was at work.
I reinforce the lie in my head.
I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary today.

“I’ll come in with you if you want me to.”

“I do, why wouldn’t I?”

He stands and takes my hand, making me feel better instantly, but then he whispers, “You didn’t go to work.”

Reaching the nurse, I plaster a smile on my face.
I will not do this here
.
I keep my back turned toward Garrett so I won’t have to look into his eyes and see the accusations or the hurt I might find there.

We have to pass the woman who brought her baby to show off. I finally see the baby’s face, a deep shade of red, made to seem very red by the soft pink knitted cap and frilly pink dress she is wearing. She seems unbearably small but when she yawns, obviously bored by the entire showing-off-thing, her mouth is a wide, deep cave.

How could such a small baby have such a wide mouth?

The women meeting the new baby for the first time are all overwhelmed by her cuteness and there are more “ahh’s”…and I am not unaffected…not by any means. Her adorableness makes me sad. The woman shifts the baby’s weight and her left hand flashes a large diamond and a simple band. Married. At a glance I decide she has a very normal life, a husband and house in suburbia. She doesn’t have to worry about which man to please, which to lie to…or which to obey.

I think the nurse leading me to a scale is in a hurry to see me gone, because as I am weighed and my vitals taken a second nurse asks medical history questions. Led to a large, well-appointed examination room, I am told to take off my clothes from the waist down and handed a paper sheet to cover up with for privacy even though as soon as the doctor comes in he will lift the sheet.

I am left alone with Garrett and fidget nervously with the button at the waistband of my skirt.

Softly, he asks, “Where were you?”

He has a right to ask. We’re in a relationship. He’s my Master. But still I bristle. I never expected to want space or privacy, but today I need both because I don’t want to lie to him again. My brain quickly spins lies, and I start thinking of metroparks I could have escaped to for meditation and reflection. I
am
facing a huge decision today.

I slide down my skirt and step out of it. Step out of my shoes too. I am left wearing the garter belt and stockings, suddenly a pain after being so convenient before. Without pressing the issue, Garrett kneels and unclasps the hooks. He rolls the stockings one by one down each leg. His caress on my bare skin draws goosebumps.

I step away, suddenly fearful he’ll realize I had sex.

Shakily, I climb onto the examination table and the paper cover rattles and I am embarrassed it seems so loud. Probably because the room is deathly still, waiting along with Garrett for which lie I will decide on.

I drape my lower half with the paper sheet, hoping Garrett is right that this doctor is community-friendly. My thighs are criss-crossed with deep bruises.

“At least tell me
he
looked well.”

My gaze collides with Garrett’s at the same time there is a light rap at the door. The doctor and a nurse enter without waiting for my approval. Garrett steps nearer the table to make room for them both. I reach out my hand and am surprised when he actually takes it. “He is.”

“Excuse me?” the doctor asks, sitting on a stool at the base of the table.

“Nothing,” we both say together. Garrett squeezes my hand. I am nauseous and filled with dread. I don’t want to face the questions I know he is going to fire at me as soon as we get home.

“Place your feet in the stirrups and scoot your bottom to the edge of the table for me.” I scoot, he pushes up the drape. His eyes widen at the sight of my thighs, but he recovers swiftly. He is quick, cold hands, colder speculum. “Nurse?”