Some Girls Do (31 page)
“You're welcome. He's a sweet boy,” Wilhemina said. “I would have stayed at the house longer, but my stomach doesn't feel right. I think I just need to go to bed.”
“I hope you're not coming down wife something. Maybe you can sleep on the drive back,” Katie suggested.
Wilhemina gave an unintelligible murmur and turned quiet. After a few moments, Katie leaned toward Michael. “I really appreciate you talking with Jeremy, but you really shouldn't even mention things like baseball games if you can't—”
“I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think I could make good on it,” he said, cutting her off.
She opened her mouth, then bit her lip. “But he won't stop talking about this until the two of you go.”
“Then I'll take him.”
“Why?”
He tossed a quick glance at her, then focused on the road. “He's a good kid. I liked being with him.”
Not knowing what to say, she sank back into her seat. She was so tired that when she closed her eyes, she felt as if her body were spinning.
“You're not the only one who can keep promises, Priss,” Michael murmured to her.
In the darkness of the car, it was tempting to lean toward that voice, to lean against his shoulder, to let someone else be strong while she took a breath. A hazy image filled her mind of Michael, Jeremy, and her all together, living and laughing. Another followed of her held in the circle of Michael's arms. Katie rarely indulged in fantasies. They were a huge waste of time, but this one was more tempting than the fantasy of winning the lottery.
“Can I go with you?” Katie asked after Wilhemina had gone to bed. They stood outside Ivan's room in the darkened hallway.
Michael shook his head, both touched and uncomfortable with the offer. His mother represented a difficult, painful part of his life that he couldn't control, and he wasn't inclined to share that with anyone. Although, if there was anyone who could handle it, he suspected Katie would be the one. The woman was a rock.
“You're tired,” he finally said.
“So are you,” she said. “You helped me with my little mission tonight. I'd like to help you with yours.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Yours was fun. Mine won't be.”
“All the more reason,” she said.
“Someone needs to watch Wilhemina. She might escape again.”
Katie shook her head. “She's exhausted and she doesn't feel well. She's not going anywhere. The least you can do is let me ride with you. How far is it?”
“Not that far,” he had to admit. “But I don't want you along.”
She paused a half beat. “I don't believe you. I'm riding with you,” she said, turning toward the stairs.
Frustration cut through him and he went after her. “I meant it. I don't want you going with me.”
Her face was set. “Then pretend I'm not there.” She proceeded down the stairs.
Exasperated, he followed her down the stairs. “This is none of your business.”
“I know,” she said, continuing toward the foyer.
“I don't want you to go.”
She ignored him and opened the front door. “Lots of stars out tonight, aren't there?”
“You're dead tired on your feet.” He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. “Why are you doing this?”
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes filled with a dozen emotions he couldn't read, but he felt somehow warmed. “I'm weird,” she finally said.
He sighed and strode toward his car. “I think it's so you won't feel like you owe me. This is your version of payback,” he said, and expected her to deny it.
“That's partly true,” she mused, sliding into the car after he unlocked the door.
Michael got into the car and looked at her. “You don't owe me anything. I don't want you doing anything because you feel you owe me.”
Her eyebrows knitted while she sat for a moment. She met his gaze. “You were a friend to me, tonight. I want to be a friend to you.”
The honesty in her eyes undid one or two knots that had been tied tightly for years inside him. At another time to another person, he would have doubled his defenses and said he didn't need a friend. And maybe he still didn't need a friend tonight either, but it felt good for her to care. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He didn't want to go down that road again, that road of counting on someone. Even though he had more than a feeling that he could depend on Katie almost as much as he could depend on himself. Wanting to push aside his thoughts, he started the car, opened the moon roof, slid in an Aerosmith CD, and headed down the road. With Aerosmith playing and the wind blowing, he wouldn't be able to think, and that was okay with him. He didn't talk and neither did she, but he felt her presence with him, almost inside him, throughout the ride.
When he turned onto the road where he could see the lights of the Liberty Mental Health Facility, his chest tightened up. Approaching the gated entrance, he cut Steven Tyler's volume in half and showed the attendant his driver's license. The man checked his list and waved Michael through.
Michael drove directly to a row of visitors’ spaces in the parking lot, cut the engine, and looked at Katie. “I won't be long.”
“I could go with you.”
He immediately shook his head.
“Not exactly the kind of girl you bring to meet your mother, huh?”
Her words jerked him to a dead stop. He searched her gaze and saw the barest hint of vulnerability glinting in her eyes. Swallowing a sigh, he shook his head. “Trust me. This has nothing to do with your upbringing and everything to do with mine.”
She nodded, but still looked unconvinced.
“She probably won't even know who I am.”
She nodded again, still unconvinced.
“This isn't pleasant. You don't want to go in there.”
She gave a half smile. “I've had more than a few unpleasant experiences in my life. On a scale of one to ten, this would probably only rate about a two for me. Don't put words in my mouth. I'd like to go with you.”
He squeezed the bridge of his nose. After everything he knew about Katie, he wouldn't ever want to do anything that gave the barest suggestion that he didn't think she was good enough. “Okay, but if she starts screaming, I'm sending you out right away.”
“Let's go,” she said, reaching for her door. She was out before he could meet her on the other side and Michael led the way to the double doors where a guard allowed them to enter. He checked in at the visitation desk, and after a couple of minutes, they were allowed to take the elevator to the third floor. The halls were darkened for the evening to promote calm, but Michael heard a few voices as they moved toward his mother's room. It was a sad fact that many of the residents struggled not only with mental problems, but also with sleeping difficulties. He inhaled the strong scent of antiseptic and his gut tightened again. He hated that smell. For Michael, it was the smell of his mother gone mad. An aide unlocked the door and allowed him and Katie to enter. His mother sat up in bed with the television on, her arms tied to the bars alongside her bed. Not a good sign. She was a small forlorn wisp of a woman in that bed. It always surprised him how small and delicate she looked.
She glanced up and her face lit with joy. “I'm so glad you came. I've missed you.”
Cautiously, Michael drew closer. “It's good to see you too. I brought a friend with me. This is Katie Collins.”
Katie extended her hand, then quickly modified the usual plan by touching his mother's arm. “It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Wingate. What are you watching?”
His mother waved her hand in a dismissing gesture. “PBS. It's the only thing I can stand.” She looked at Michael. “Where have you been keeping yourself, darling?”
Michael felt a prickly sensation at the base of his neck. He still wasn't sure if she recognized him or not. “I had an assignment that took me down to Texas.”
“The bluebonnets are beautiful there. Unless it was too dry, of course.”
“There was so much rain it flooded, so we saw plenty of flowers,” Katie said. “Do you like flowers?”
His mother widened her eyes. “Oh, I've always loved a garden. Reginald could tell you that.”
“Did Michael ever help you in the garden?” Katie asked.
She chuckled. “He would rather build things, but he liked to play in the sprinklers when the groundskeeper turned them on. It didn't matter what clothes he was wearing. Do you remember that, Michael?”
She'd called him by his name. It took him by such surprise that he didn't say anything for a second. He nodded. “I remember your rosebushes. Didn't you win a lot of ribbons for them with the garden club?”
His mother nodded. “Every year it seemed.” Her brow knitted with a frown. “Until I came here.” Her gaze grew hazy. “I miss gardening.” She looked at Michael. “I've missed you so much, Reginald.”
He tensed. In and out. Lucid and not. Hide and seek. He could barely remember a time when she hadn't confused him with his father. He could never remember a time when he hadn't hated it. He felt Katie take his hand and he looked at her. There wasn't pity in her eyes, instead an affirmation that she knew who he was. For the first time in years, something inside him eased.
“I'm sure you're proud of how hard your son works,” Katie said.
His mother nodded. “He's always been industrious. He liked computer games. His father—” She broke off as if confused. “His father didn't.” She sighed. “I wish I didn't feel so tired. Will you come to see me again soon?”
“I will,” he said, then leaned toward her and kissed her forehead.
“It's so good to see you, Reginald.”
Michael sighed. “Good night, Mother.”
“Good night, Mrs. Wingate. It was nice to meet you.”
“Come again.”
Katie held his hand as they left the room. She held it while they rode the elevator down to the main floor, and she didn't let go until they reached his car. He got in and was ready to turn on Aerosmith at one hundred decibels, but she stopped him.
“You know why she calls you by your father's name, don't you?” Katie asked.
“She wishes he were still alive.”
“Yeah, but it's more than that. You are the man she wishes your father could have been.”
“She is delusional.”
“But she remembered what you were like as a child. She remembered the difference between you and your father. She looks at you and wishes.”
After all the years of dealing with his mother's instability, it shouldn't have made sense, but it resonated inside him. “How do you know I'm not like my father?”
“Was he charming?” she asked, taking him off guard.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“You're not,” she said with a smile. He could have been insulted, but the smile prevented it. “You don't have time to be charming. You're too busy being responsible and strong.”
At that moment, he wanted her so bad he could howl with the need. She had no idea how significant it was that she had come with him to visit his mother and taken the situation in stride in her compassionate way. “I wish you'd brought that damn condom you swiped from my stash.”
Her eyes darkened with the same need he felt and the air in the car thickened in an instant. “I wish I had too. I left it in my purse at the house.”
His heart cranked into overdrive. She was ready for him. He was always ready for her. And he didn't have a damn condom. And he'd promised her he wouldn't take her again without protection. He wouldn't die from it, he told himself. He just felt like he would.
“Would you let me kiss you?” she asked, her voice husky and her eyes full of something that made him feel hot and bothered.
Her kiss would only make it worse.
“
The more forbidden the candy, the more you want to eat it.
”
—S
UNNY
C
OLLINS'S WISDOM
“
Y
eah,” Michael said, leaning toward her, and she lifted her mouth to his. Her lips were warm, but her breath was cool from the peppermint she'd chewed just moments ago. Lifting her fingers to cradle the sides of his cheeks, she slid her tongue over his. He liked the way she held his face, as if he were important to her. He liked the way her breasts pressed against his chest, as if she wanted to be closer. She tasted like everything he'd ever wanted and needed, but had spent his life not knowing it. He felt the slow beat of his need pounding through his blood. It was arousal and something more.
Her tongue tangled and teased, her mouth tugged at his lower lip. He plunged his fingers into her silky hair and wanted to sink inside her skin, into her lungs and heart. But skin was as close as he could get, and even that was difficult in the car.
“Damn console,” he muttered, pushing his seat back as far as it would go, and pulling her over him so that she straddled him.
Her breasts rubbed his chest while she undulated over the part of him that she had already made rock hard. The air in the car turned hot. He slid his hands beneath her shirt to cup her breasts and she moaned, pressing into him.
There was something tender yet primal about the way she kissed him, and the strange, growing connection he felt with her wrapped around him like a silken cord. He rubbed his thumbs over her tight nipples and she shifted restlessly over him, driving him farther and farther from sanity with each little movement. He slid one of his hands down to touch her thigh, then inside her panties to where she was wet for him. She suckled his tongue deep into her mouth.
She made him so hot he felt as if his brains were sizzling inside his head. Before he could tell her they needed to slow down, she slipped one of her hands inside his slacks.
Michael thought he might explode.
He pulled his mouth from hers and opened his mouth to tell her something that he completely forgot when she wrapped her hand around him and began to stroke.
Her breath whispered over his cheek. “Why isn't anything close enough?” she whispered, with the same gnawing desperation he fell. “Why?” She gave him a French kiss that belied her lack of experience and he felt her tug at the buttons on his shirt. Her open mouth slid over his throat tasting his pulse, cranking up the drumbeat of need pounding in his head. She made him forget everything but her.