Intentions - SF9 (8 page)

Ryan ran back just as Catherine called for her. The older woman was lying face down on the table with a pale blue sheet loosely wrapped around her body. Ryan felt her stomach clench as she entered the room. She was actually more nervous than she had ever been about giving a massage, and she wracked her brain to come up with some relaxation techniques for herself. "Would you like some music?" she offered, knowing that her voice betrayed her anxiety.

"That would be nice. There are a number of CD's in the cabinet there," Catherine indicated. Ryan opened the door and found a lot of new age instrumentals, but one disc caught her eye.

"Cool," she muttered to herself as she pulled out Joanie Madden's "Song of the Irish Whistle."

"Pardon, Dear?" Catherine asked.

"Oh," Ryan said as she popped the disc in the very snazzy Bang & Olufsen CD player, "I was just commenting on this CD. This is my instrument, you know."

As the strains of the Celtic harp wafted through the air Catherine turned and looked at her carefully. "This one?"

"No, I play the whistle." Several bars later the ethereal tones of the whistle began. "That one right there," Ryan indicated.

"What a beautiful instrument," Catherine said. "Do you play often?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't think I've touched it since I've been with Jamie. I used to express myself through my music, but I just don't have the need anymore. I should get in the habit again. I can't afford to get too rusty if I want to keep it up."

"Jamie would love to hear you play, Ryan. I guarantee you'd have an appreciative audience."

"Good point," Ryan said, much more relaxed now that the calming whistle was trilling in the background. "I'll pull it out as soon as we get home." She approached the table and tried her best to get into her professional mode. "What type of massage are you used to?"

"The person I have now just does traditional Swedish massage, but I love Shiatsu also. Why don't you do whatever you're comfortable with."

I'd be comfortable making a run for it
, Ryan thought as her stomach gripped again. She grabbed a bottle of lightly scented massage oil and warmed it in her hands for a few moments as she tried to decide where to start.

She delayed so long that Catherine finally turned onto her back and caught Ryan's wide-eyed gaze. "Are you as nervous as I am?" she asked, a smile brightening her face.

"More," Ryan gulped, feeling better almost immediately just to have the issue out in the open.

"Do you want to just skip it, Dear? I don't want to make you nervous."

"No, no, this is no big deal, Catherine. I'm a professional-I just have to calm my mind for a minute."

"For what it's worth, Ryan, even though I'm a little uncomfortable, I trust you completely." She gave her a warm, open smile, and Ryan felt the rest of her anxiety ease.

Returning the smile, Ryan said, "Let's start some place nice and safe." She stood on the left side of the table and took Catherine's arm in her hands and began to work the massage oil into her flesh. "Let me know how firm a touch you like," she advised.

"I'm tougher than I look, Ryan," she laughed. "I like a lot of pressure."

Hmm, there's a family trait
, she thought as she started to work on her mother-in-law's arms.

"I think I'd be more comfortable on my stomach," Catherine said, and Ryan helped her arrange the sheet after she had turned over. Getting back to business, she pulled both arms above Catherine's head as she dug into the muscles with her thumbs. "Perfect," Catherine hissed out in a pleasure-filled moan. "Just perfect."

Oh, God !
Ryan cried inwardly as she realized that Jamie moaned just like her mother did.
I've got to get my mind on business!
She used every centering technique that she knew, but the only thing that worked was when she reminded herself that Catherine trusted her implicitly.
She knows I'm very sexual, she knows I sleep with her daughter, and she knows that her husband would kill both of us if he saw me massaging her. And yet, she trusts herself to be this vulnerable with me. I can't repay that trust by letting my mind wander all over the place. She's not my lover's naked mother. She's a woman who is putting her trust in my hands, and I have to respect that in the same spirit that it's offered.

Once her little pep talk was finished she switched her mind off rather easily and concentrated like she always did. She was soon able to focus only on the tips of her fingers and the individual muscles that her fingers glided over.

Catherine was right on the money when she said she liked a firm touch. Ryan gave her everything she had, but the harder the pressure, the more she liked it. She knew that the aggressive massage would help Catherine's stiff muscles, so she was a little more forceful than normal, and before she knew it she was right back at the arms.
God, did I hit everything else? I completely lost track of where I was.
Just to make sure, she broke the silence by asking, "Any areas bothering you?"

It took a second for Catherine to realize that the voice was addressing her. "No, I don't have a care in the world," she murmured.

Ryan placed her hand on her back and leaned over a bit. "Relax for a while. I'll leave the music on for you."

" 'Kay," she muttered sleepily as Ryan gently closed the door.

Neither of her companions was in the weight room, so Ryan went down to the first floor to look for them. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the two naked blondes as they lounged in the sauna. "Am I the only one that has to work around here?"

"God, Honey, you were gone for over an hour! What were you doing in there?"

"I had to concentrate really hard to ignore the fact that it was your mom, so I didn't pay any attention to time. The only reason I knew it had been a while was because my hands were starting to cramp. She likes it rough, too," she said with a waggling eyebrow at her lover.

"Me too," Jordan reminded her as she held out the bottle of moisture lotion that she had carried into the sauna.

Ryan sighed heavily as she started to strip out of her clothes. "Do all of you only want me for my hands?" she sighed as she accepted the lotion and started to work on Jordan's lower back.

"That's only half of your allure," Jamie assured her. "Your mouth is equally important to me."

"Not to me," Jordan demurred, letting out a gasp as the powerful hands stroked her tired muscles. "I only need your hands."

As soon as Jordan's brief massage was finished, she wrapped herself up in a towel and announced, "I'm going to bed. Wake me up at the last possible minute, will you, Sport?"

"Will do, Sleeping Beauty. Sleep well."

As Jordan left Jamie asked, "How late was Mia here last night?"

"She was still here this morning," Ryan said, smiling a little.

"Oooh, Mia finally had her way with Jordan, huh? Good for her!"

"You're jumping to conclusions. They were lying on a chair by the pool, fully clothed, when I found them. I think they were talking most of the night."

"For someone who doesn't talk much, that Jordan sure is gabby when she's around Mia. What in the heck is up with her, anyway?"

"I don't know, to be honest. Jordan's a pretty complex person-she's not so easy to figure out."

"She'd better not hurt my Mia," Jamie said, her eyes narrowing. "It's obvious that Jordan is a love 'em and leave 'em kinda girl, and I'm afraid that Mia really likes her."

"Don't make too many assumptions about Jordan. As I say, she's more complex than she seems."
A lot more complex
, Ryan decided.
I think Mia would be in well over her head with Jordan.

They padded into the house in their warm-ups, just making the turn for the stairs when Catherine's voice called out from the living room. "Jamie? Ryan? Can I have a word with you both?"

Catherine was also dressed in a nylon warm-up suit--probably one that she wore after playing tennis, Ryan considered. She looked young and relaxed and attractively casual in the simple cocoa brown outfit that emphasized her eyes, and Ryan considered once again what a fabulous catch the lovely woman was.
Jim Evans…you are a putz!
she thought, not for the first time.

"When your father was here yesterday, he left these envelopes for you both," Catherine said, handing both woman matching buff-colored vellum envelopes.

Ryan and Jamie exchanged glances and Catherine said, "I think they're safe. Too many witnesses for him to put a biological weapon into yours, Ryan."

The tall woman grinned at her with a look of embarrassment. "He continues to disappoint me," she admitted. "I am a little wary of any communication from him."

"You're wise to feel that way, Ryan. He has a tendency to disappoint." She gave Ryan a sad little nod of understanding and waited for the younger women to take a seat.

"I'll go first," Ryan said, ripping open her envelope. A letter and a small plastic card fell out, and she gazed at the card for a long while, her mouth dropping further and further open. It was a credit-card sized piece of plastic with "S. Ryan O'Flaherty" stamped onto it. Below her name it said "Member since September 1999." The top of the card simply read "The Olympic Club."

Wordlessly, she handed it to Jamie and, opening the letter, read it aloud.

Ryan,

Please don't assume that I'm trying to buy your good will with this small gift. The harm that I've tried to cause you could never be ameliorated by so small a token. Instead, please accept this as a small peace offering. I know that Jamie loves Olympic, and I think it would make her happy to play there in the future. Since you are a part of her future, it only seems fitting to include you in that scenario. The membership is yours to do with as you wish. If you don't want it, you can sell it back to the club--the choice is yours. I hold out the hope that one day we can play the course together and enjoy each other's company. I'm certain that I will like you once I get to know you, Ryan, and even though I don't hold out a lot of hope, I pray that the reverse is true, also.

I am truly sorry for the trouble that I have caused you. I have no excuses-none are creditable. I can only try to make it up to you over time, if you will allow me the opportunity.

Sincerely,

Dear Jamie,

I've done more terrible things in my life than I am willing to admit, even to myself, but the thing I'll always regret the most was willfully hurting you. I still don't understand what came over me, but I know that I have seriously harmed the most precious thing that I have-our relationship.

The happiest day of my life was the day after you were born, when your mother and I brought you home from the hospital. The hospital was filled with nurses and friends and family, and I didn't have the opportunity to spend a moment alone with you. But as soon as we got home, your mother went to bed to rest and I could get to know you a little bit. I came into your room and sat in the rocker holding you that first night, already so attached to you that I couldn't bear to put you in your cradle. I held you in my arms and cuddled you for most of the night, so filled with joy that I couldn't even think of sleeping. I spoke to you about my hopes and dreams for you, and I promised that I would always be there to take care of you.

I broke that promise, Jamie. I shattered it, all because of my need to control you and every other thing that means anything to me. I don't know how to stop behaving the way that I do, but I promise that I will try. I want you to know that no matter what happens, I will try to fulfill the promise I made to you on a cold clear February night, 21 years ago.

Her father always used a fountain pen for personal letters, and she noticed that some of the letters were smeared, as if a few tears had escaped and fallen onto the paper. Wiping her own eyes with the back of her hand, she continued to read.

Forgive me for launching into lawyer mode, but I have a few matters to take care of, and not much time to do them before I leave for Washington.

I pulled a few strings and convinced the membership committee to waive the normal process for you and Ryan to become junior members at the Club. Your mother's great-grandfather was one of the founding members of Olympic, Jamie, and I think it's time you became a member in your own right.

Even though I arranged and paid for the memberships, they are in your names. You will be responsible for the monthly charges; I will not even be informed of them. I do this only so that you understand that I am trying to give up control over your spending practices, not to avoid the expense myself.

Towards that end, I agree to your request for a discretionary distribution from your trust. I've communicated my wishes, in writing, to Tuck, and he is prepared to follow your instructions whenever and however you wish to proceed.

It would probably be best for you to move your money to a money manager of your own choosing, Honey. Having my firm handle your affairs is probably not a good idea for either of us. I'm sure your mother can suggest someone that she trusts if you need any advice.

I did some research and it appears that you should create a durable power of attorney to give Ryan the right to make decisions for you in case you are incapacitated for any reason. I know that she's the person you trust to make decisions for you now, and a power of attorney will enable her to do that.

Forgive me again if this sounds a little businesslike, Sweetheart. I'm trying to get all of my affairs straightened out before I leave for Washington, and I'll admit to feeling a little overwhelmed.

I'm very much looking forward to having a fresh start for our relationship, Jamie. I hope that by taking care of some of these financial matters, we can put them aside and never have to revisit them.

As I've already told you, I'm feeling adrift with this change in my life. I would be forever grateful if you could come visit me, for even a weekend. I know I'll be busy, but I'll clear my calendar at a moment's notice to see you-- government business be damned. (That was a joke, Honey. Don't tell the President that I said that.)

I am more hopeful than I have been in months about the future of our relationship, Jamie. I promise to do my best to be the father that you deserve.

Love always,