Welcome back and thank you for reading along.
Chapter title inspired by the song with same title by John Legend.
All of Me
It had been several months now that Helena Wells, CEO of Wells Corp and one of Manhattan's favorite socialites was romantically involved with Myka Bering, Wells Corp's Chief Counsel and the press' new person of interest. In spite of all the wonderful moments the two had shared, this was their first vacation away together.
And Helena had chosen the perfect spot.
Melody Key is a private isle located in the Florida Keys, the southernmost point of the continental United States. It is the world's fifth most expensive island and is currently up for sale for about six million dollars. At present, its occupants are two women who were in desperate need of a vacation. The island's future rests with one of those women – Myka Bering - who is staying there for a week.
Myka doesn't know it yet, but one word from her about the place - and it will be hers.
The vacation Helena planned for Myka and herwas going off without a hitch. There, on the very private island, every detail was arranged to make sure that they would have a relaxing holiday, as Helena referred to it. In very little time, the women forgot the hectic pace and noise of Manhattan, and acclimated quickly to the soft breezes and warm weather of the secluded isle.
The house boasted three bedrooms, balconies, pool, and a boat to get to and from the mainland. Helena made sure that they had no reason to go anywhere, unless they chose to do so. Every detail was seen to so that this would be the perfect retreat. Their days there were to be unfettered by the demands of their hectic lifestyle back home.
Early morning walks along the beach melted into afternoons on the sand that became evenings of dinner on the veranda. And as the sun slowly faded in the sky, hours were spent gazing at each other, or talking as they swayed in the hammock, looking up at the stars.
"Pick one," Helena said to Myka as she lie in her arms. It had become a nightly ritual for the couple to take advantage of the sky view that the bright lights of Manhattan never allowed.
"Pick a star?" Myka asked.
"Or a planet, you know there are over…," Helena started, but caught herself. This was Helena the romantic, not Helena the scientist. Maybe.
"OK," Myka said, adjusting herself so she could look straight up. "I'll take …," and she hesitated as she scanned the heavens. Helena envied the finger Myka placed in her mouth as she tried to decide. "That one," and the finger pointed up. Helena looked up at the star that shone in the black sky.
"Why that one?" Helena asked. She felt Myka's shoulders shrug as she thought about her choice.
"Reminds me of you," Myka said, still staring at it. It was, after all, the brightest one in the sky.
"That is Aldebaran," Helena answered matter of factly. Myka smiled. Of course Helena would know its name. Myka paused only a couple of seconds on purpose before asking; "What constellation?"
Helena's answer practically burst from her lips, "It is the bright star in the constellation, Taurus the Bull and is surrounded by the Hyades star cluster." Inside that romantic body beat the heart of a scientist.
"And what does it mean?" Myka asked, knowing there was still some information left.
"It is Arabic, and means 'the Follower'," Helena said, pleased to share her knowledge.
"The Follower? Hmm, that hardly seems like anything I would associate with you," Myka mused.
"You're wrong," Helena said, as Myka turned to look at her. "I would follow you anywhere."
It was simple declarations like this that made Myka fall in love with Helena all over again. Helena was always saying things that made Myka wonder - how was it possible to know you love someone with all your heart and then feel it even more deeply the next time they said something wonderful? This is what Myka was thinking as she entwined her fingers in Helena's and closed her eyes. Myka pressed her head into Helena. The warm ocean breeze wrapped around them and Myka couldn't remember another time she felt this peaceful.
It had been a perfect vacation, mostly because there was nothing there but the two of them. Myka woke up to Helena, ate all her meals with Helena, spent quiet afternoons reading or walking around the island with her, dined at sunset and then went to bed alongside her. Without the background noise of traffic or pressure to be at work, their love-making was unhurried, serene, and most surprising to Myka, happened in places like the beach or on blankets spread out on the top deck of the house under the stars. They spent hours in the fresh water pool, most of it just staring into each others eyes. All without the fear of someone snapping pictures. Helena had designed tiny refractors that were placed on the island before her arrival, and with the security system Pete and Claudia designed, anyone trying to take a picture from a passing boat or plane had the light deflected and the picture distorted.
Myka spent hours studying Helena's face, running her finger along the curve of her jawbone across the straight line of her chin. Her thumb grazed the creases in Helena's cheeks when she smiled. She traced the curve of Helena's eyebrows that crowned her eyes. Myka knew Helena's eyes were expressive, and yet now she could see a range of emotions in them - from laughing when Myka ran from the lizard - to when she lied about how good the tea was that Myka tried to make her. Myka thought she knew everything about that face and yet, in those few days she discovered even more things that affirmed Helena's beauty.
Helena was doing her fair share of staring back. In fact, when they both decided to read by the pool, Helena was on the exact same page an hour later. She had spent the time drinking in the sight of Myka scantily clad in a bikini on the chaise lounge soaking up the afternoon sun. Helena started her visual trek at Myka's feet and slowly moved up her long toned legs and didn't stop until she had traveled every inch of her, up to the curls that adorned her head. Myka tried to concentrate on her reading, hearing the soft sighs on the other side of her book. It was simply Helena - breathing her in.
It was applying the necessary suntan lotion that sent them both over the edge. It seemed impossible for either of them to lather the fair skin of her lover without it leading to exposing even more skin. And that led to – some of the sweetest moments of their time together.
Helena had thought of everything and planned the tiniest details. The closets were filled with summery clothes, beach wear, and a different outfit for every dinner. It was a welcome change from the suits and office couture. Myka's toes reveled to be in sandals again. The day after they arrived, Helena had two professional masseuses arrive on the island to give them massages. Unfortunately, Helena had too much trouble relaxing when the woman working on Myka seemed to be enjoying her job. Of course, that fact was only true in the Brit's head, but that didn't stop her muscles from tensing up. Helena immediately canceled the one scheduled for later in the week. They would do their own massages.
The staff that prepared their meals did so without being seen for the most part. The large kitchen was stacked with more than just the spaghetti Helena packed. Some mornings, Helena found it too tempting not to feed Myka the fresh cut up fruit that was on their plates. Doing so promptly resulted in them going back to bed until early afternoon. Lunches were often skipped as they napped from an exhilarating morning of discovering new ways of enjoying each other.
When meals were more intricate, like fresh lobster or soufflés, a staff member stayed to attend to the dinner. They left quietly after the meal was served. Helena tried to convince Myka that being on vacation meant you could leave the dishes for the staff to clean up when they came back the next day, but Myka wouldn't hear of it.
"That Midwestern upbringing is simply ingrained in you," Helena complained.
"We're considered the West, thank you very much, and yes, as is yours," Myka pointed out.
"At least mine isn't annoying," Helena grumbled.
Helena struggled with being totally out of touch with the office, and more than once wondered how anything would get done without her there. Midweek brought cravings and she suggested to Myka they just check in, but Myka knew better. Checking in meant Helena would search for a problem that wasn't being addressed to prove they couldn't survive without her. Irene had been left very clear instructions to contact Myka via text if something urgent did come up that needed Helena's attention. Irene was an excellent Gatekeeper and Myka knew she would only communicate if it was urgent. No one agreed more with Myka that Helena really did need this vacation.
Irene was surprised that the person who gave her the most trouble was Eileen. She was like an untethered astronaut floating in space with the same amount of panic at times. 'I should never have taken her to see Gravity,' Claudia confided in the HR Director. Eileen had never worked a week Helena wasn't there, and so the Brit's absence was unnerving. Cups of tea went to waste as there was only so much the girl could drink herself. She tried bringing it to people, but no one in the coffee crowd appreciated it for the art that it was.
Back on the island, the only official business Myka had that week was to make sure Helena relaxed. They went to the mainland one afternoon when the weather was cloudy. They drove into a small town where Myka stopped to get souvenirs.
"This very act will do more harm than good," Helena informed her as she followed Myka around the shops.
"How will it do that exactly?" Myka asked.
"Well, you will spend needless time on choosing things for several people. The objects cannot be personal because the very word 'souvenir' means something bought or kept as a reminder of a place or an occasion. Well, my guess is none of them have ever been here, nor are they on the receiving end of this occasion. In fact, I wager that your trinkets will only remind them of our absence and won't be appreciated at all," Helena surmised.
Myka stopped and turned to look at her. "And the real reason?" she asked.
"Because if you buy something for them, then they will feel obligated to reciprocate, and our house will be filled with trinkets from God knows where that I will abhor," Helena explained in detail.
"Very nice," Myka said, shaking her head.
"Well you asked me. Do not ask me questions you are not ready to hear the answers to," Helena said back.
"I always want to hear your answers," Myka said, kissing the lips that were slightly pouting.
"Well, maybe for Irene... and Claudia... and Ms. Sullivan of course," Helena said because Myka's kiss could get her to agree to just about anything.
"Do you think you'll always call her Ms. Sullivan?" Myka wondered as she looked at a seashell necklace.
"Perhaps," Helena said, not having given it much thought.
"I wonder if she feels any more settled about finding out she's a Wells," Myka wondered.
"Of course she does, " Helena said with certitude. Since finding out Eileen had Wells blood in her veins, there was little Helena thought the woman couldn't do…with some guidance.
In fact, that was the only thing Eileen felt more settled about. It somehow seemed clearer to her now that Helena was not there. She had talks with Claudia and then her parents about how nothing would change except that she had a direct connection to Helena. It didn't entitle her to anything really, and she was fine with that. If Helena wanted to promote her or give her other duties in the future, it would be because she earned them, not out of nepotism.
On the way back from shopping, Myka caught another glimpse into Helena's past when she asked the Brit if she wanted to go to visit the Ernest Hemingway House, the historic site where the famed author lived for many years in the 1930's.
"I cannot, out of good conscience," Helena said. Myka was prepared for a response stating lack of interest, but this answer perplexed her.
"What does that mean?" Myka asked as they made their way back to the car that would take them to the boat back to Melody Key.
Helena took a deep breath, the kind one takes when sharing a family story that will not reflect well on the people involved after the tale is done.
"As you know, my brother Charles continued to live under the guise of HG Wells after I went to work for the Warehouse. Poor Charles…., " Helena softly laughed as she reflected back on her brother. Myka watched Helena's expression change and was certain she felt the storm of sympathy and anger Helena still felt about her past. "…When the reservoir from which he plucked my ideas to write about dried up, poor Charles was left with few resources. So he used his…," and Helena stopped. The sea of calm in her eyes became more like a fury and she said; "…my good name to secure his place in society. He had many affairs, some resulting in poorly organized marriages. He became involved with politicians and many suspect, had an affair with a woman who was a spy. It was unfortunate that while Charles may have had the Wells charm, he lacked the Wells intelligence. Poor soul," Helena said - and meant it.
Myka had stopped by a bench near the car as Helena continued. "He was at the Roosevelt's estate in 1935 when he met one Miss Martha Ellis Gellhorn, and began a passionate affair. He was 68 years old at the time and would have married her had it not been for the fact that she fell in love with another man," Helena said.
"Ernest Hemingway?" Myka said with amazement. Myka remembered the name now, having read the biography of Hemingway. It never ceased to astound Myka that Helena's stories often dealt with the not so distant past in the most unusual way. "How do you..?" Myka inquired and then regretted asking Helena. It was a valid question since Helena was away for all those years, but Myka feared it would remind her of too much.
"Charles thought I was working on secret government projects and therefore, could not be reached in person. He continued to write me letters for years, hoping they were reaching me. I couldn't respond of course, but the Warehouse kept them for me. Years later when I read them, he had written extensively about Miss Gellhorn and how she broke his heart," Helena said.
Not only could Myka feel the sadness Helena exuded when she talked about the period she was bronzed, she felt the darkness of that experience. Their Oneness afforded Myka a deeper sense of what was going on inside of Helena. Even though those same emotions were present inside of Myka now, she couldn't always figure them out. Not yet, anyway.
"So you see, out of deference to my brother, I shall refrain from visiting Mr. Hemingway's home," Helena said.
Myka smiled, took Helena by the waist, and hugged her. "I'd rather be with you at the house," she said.
The long days of relaxing in the sun were drawing to an end. Helena planned their last night to a tee. Dinner outside, watching the sun going down. When dinner was over, they took their drinks and sat in two Adirondack chairs on the beach and let the waves rush up to touch their feet.
"This has been the most wonderful time, Helena," Myka said, their hands joined across the chairs.
"Yes, it has," Helena agreed. It had been a long time since she felt such calmness.
"We should get away every few weeks," Myka said, closing her eyes wanting to capture this moment of total bliss.
"Yes," Helena said, closing the real estate deal in her mind.
Helena pulled Myka from the chair as they took their last walk along the beach. The moonlight now glistened off the water and the waves gently grazed the sand. Helena stopped and faced Myka.
"Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture, dignity and love," Helena whispered to Myka under the stars.
"John Milton," Myka said of one of her most favorite lines.
"Your beauty takes my breath away, Myka, and with it, my ability to convey my feelings adequately. Alas, I must rely on the poets to describe what I see," Helena smiled.
"Her heart thought it knew joy before, but it was mistaken. It had known happiness perhaps, but this – this was joy," Myka quoted.
"Browning?" Helena guessed, unable to place the phrase.
"Bering," Myka said, and pulled Helena in and kissed her gently, but with the fiery passion that only true love ignites.
A/N An article in 2001 in The Guardian, suggests that HG Wells had many affairs and one of them may indeed have been with Gellhorn. Her letters to HG Wells have been donated to Boston University. According to her will, they must remain sealed until 2023.
As always, - I welcome your thoughts, suggestions and questions.
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