June, 2002
The air inside the house was stale from being locked up for so long, but Laura refused to pull back the drapes or open the windows. Preferring the dark, she turned on the air conditioning instead.
Everything looked just like it had the last time she'd been here. Laura busied herself with a series of everyday tasks. In the kitchen, she plugged in the refrigerator and closed the door. She lifted the telephone to her ear, making sure it had a dial tone. She walked out to the laundry room and switched on the hot water, before finally heading back outside to unload her car.
She was about to lug in her third load of supplies when she heard a car pull into the driveway next door.
The man getting out of his vehicle was a stranger. Laura had talked to him three times over the course of almost twelve months: the first time on his porch, the second time at the harborside Fourth of July festivities, and the third time over the telephone from his ship. That had been last August; before both their lives had changed.
Yet Laura felt like she knew him. She'd kept the gift he'd sent her in January; she even had it with her now. Other people had sent her flowers that had soon wilted, or cards that she had shoved into a shoebox and hidden at the back of the closet. Bill Adama's gift, though, had been special.
He opened his trunk and retrieved a suitcase, then looked up and saw her standing there. They both stood gazing at each other before finally he broke the spell and moved toward his front door.
She reached into her own trunk for another bag of groceries, blinking tears out of her eyes.
"Here, let me." Suddenly he was beside her, taking the bag out of her hands. She glanced over his shoulder and saw his suitcase resting against the porch railing. Laura quickly wiped at the corners of her eyes as he reached into the trunk for the final bag, balancing them both in his arms. "Kitchen?"
She nodded mutely, locking her car before following him into the house.
He was turning back from the counter when she caught up. He was dressed casually in jeans that looked like they were worn from hard use, and not because they'd been stonewashed in some factory. His t-shirt was a stark white, showing off his dark skin. Like the one he was wearing the day they met, it had Eisenhower printed across its front; a bleak reminder of why he hadn't contacted her during these last few months. He had two new accessories: a pair of round spectacles, and a streak of gray at his temples. Laura thought they both merely added to his physical appeal.
"I thought you'd still be overseas."
"I got back last week. I've been at Norfolk." He shrugged. "Unless your boss changes his mind, we head back in six weeks time. How long will you be in town?"
"I'm not sure," she said truthfully. Laura began to busy herself with unpacking the groceries. "Thank you for giving me a hand with these."
His hand, rubbing against her sleeve, stilled her.
"Laura, I wish I could have been there."
Laura stared dully at a mark on the countertop.
"Would you care to join me for dinner one of these nights?" he asked.
The telephone interrupted any reply Laura was going to make. She snapped it up before its second ring.
"Hello. Yes… Yes… No. Vance can kiss my ass."
Bill gave a low rumble beside her.
"I don't care… Monday, make him sweat until Monday… Yes… Thanks."
Laura hung up and looked over at Bill, who was standing perfectly still, watching her. She bit her lip.
"Yes," she said finally. "Not tonight. I need to…"
Bill gently squeezed her arm. "Let me know when you're ready."
Laura felt hot tears burn her eyes yet again. Her whimper of frustration turned to something else when she felt his thumbs brush gently across her cheekbones. His touch felt so good.
She stepped back, breaking the contact. She didn't want to feel anything.
"Thank you for helping me with the bags," she said, staring at her shoes intently.
His hand eventually fell away.
"Laura." He murmured her name as a farewell.
Laura didn't look up again until she heard the front door open and close, signaling his departure.
0.0.0
Laura spread out the blanket and fell down onto its center.
Opening the champagne bottle with a pop, she splashed a generous amount into her glass, licking her fingers when the bubbles overflowed.
Lying back, Laura looked up at the sky. There were too many clouds to see the stars. She imagined the organizers of tonight's festivities praying that the rain stayed away. She was praying for it to come.
"Every year, no matter what we're doing or where we're living, we'll spend the Fourth of July together."
Laura gulped down her drink, attempting to drown out the memories of last year. This year Wally was working. Like Laura, he'd buried himself in his work. It wouldn't surprise her if he was sitting at his desk with a pile of paperwork in front of him tonight.
She presumed Bill was at the harborside park. She'd spied him getting into his car earlier, wearing his full dress uniform, just like last year. He would probably be involved in the evening's ceremonies once again.
Laura's telephone had rung throughout the day. Assuming that it was Bill, she had simply ignored it.
"I can't imagine anything nicer than watching the stars, listening to music, and sipping champagne right here, by the waterfront, with my two favorite sisters."
Laura had decided to spend this year in her own backyard.
All around the neighborhood, dogs began to bark and howl restlessly. In the distance, Laura soon heard the steady booming of the fireworks that were causing their distress.
She held her glass up high. "Happy Fourth of July," she toasted.
0.0.0.
The rain was coming down in thick sheets, stinging Laura's skin as she lay on the blanket. She couldn't hear the fireworks anymore; only the rain beating on the rooftops.
Laura closed her eyes and made no effort to head for shelter.
0.0.0.
Laura swayed. Her head rolled onto something solid. She felt weightless and suddenly warm.
Why couldn't she feel the rain anymore? She could still hear it.
She shivered against Bill Adama's chest. She knew it was him, carrying her across the yard toward the house. No one else could be here. No one else could lift her so effortlessly.
Her nails curled and dug into his shoulders.
"Bill?" she croaked.
"Shush, honey. It's okay."
Once inside, Bill headed straight for the downstairs bathroom, and carefully set her back on her feet. Laura's head lolled; he caught her, holding her in place against the wall with one hand while he leaned over and twisted the taps in the shower with the other.
Once the water was running, he turned his attention back to her, tugging at her sodden clothing. Laura's arms dangled at her sides, offering him no assistance. She looked down at herself when he had completely removed her blouse and bra, noting her erect nipples. She looked back up at Bill, frowning at his apparent lack of interest.
He tugged her skirt and panties down and maneuvered her into the shower stall. She shuddered in reaction; the water's warmth only highlighted how freezing she really was. Instinctively stepping out from under the flow, she backed up against the glass and slid down until she was sitting on the tiles, her knees drawn up to her chin.
"Laura!"
Her teeth chattered, preventing her from speaking.
Bill let out a loud growl from the other side of the shower door, then ripped at his clothes, undressing down to his boxers. Stepping into the shower, he gripped her under her arms and hauled her upright. The hot water poured across her back. Laura stared at his neck for a moment before leaning in and suckling on it.
"Laura—"
Laura let her eyes drift shut again, feeling her way across his chin and along his jaw line with her mouth until she found his own. She tasted him, exploring the softness of his lips, coercing him with slow, lingering kisses until he finally let out a deep moan and responded. Open-mouthed and wet, they kissed and kissed. Their tongues, hips and chests pressed together, unwinding an entire year's worth of frustration.
Bill dragged his mouth away from hers and turned off the shower. Opening the linen closet, he found them both fresh towels. He handed one to her, and twisted the other around his waist before disposing of his wet boxers. Laura watched him, running the towel carelessly over her body, until he impatiently yanked it from her grasp and took over the task.
"Come on," he said, guiding her up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Laura threw the towel off and pulled the bedspread down in one fluid movement, then fell heavily onto the mattress.
Bill fussed with her sheets and blanket until she was cocooned snugly beneath the covers.
"What are you doing?" she asked, frowning.
"You need to sleep."
"Don't wanna sleep." She struggled until she freed an arm. She reached up and sank her fingers into his thick hair. "I want to forget." She pushed against the nape of his neck, drawing his face down to hers. She kissed him just once before he managed to exert his superior strength and pull away from her.
"This won't help," Bill said, his voice gruff. "You've been trying to forget for too long. You need to start remembering."
Laura twisted at the bedding, angry at both his rebuttal and his psychoanalysis.
"I think you should leave now."
Bill edged closer and took her hand. "I know how close you were. I saw that for myself. I know that you've changed since their accident." He wiped gently at her silently falling tears. "Your eyes aren't as bright as they used to be."
"Will it ever get better?" she whispered, all her anger now gone.
"No: not when you love somebody that much. Yes: you need to give it time."
"Will you stay?" she asked. "Just until I fall asleep," she added when he hesitated.
Bill lay down beside her, and Laura gratefully rested her head on his chest, her eyes drifting shut almost immediately. She was safe for the time being.
0.0.0.
Laura rolled over to check the time when she woke. It was nearly lunchtime. She got up, and discovering her naked state, she blushed at her behavior the night before. First she'd gotten drunk. Then she'd allowed herself to get soaked through to the skin, the rain sobering her up somewhat. Finally, and most embarrassingly, she'd propositioned Bill Adama, and he'd rebuffed her advances.
Donning her robe, she thumped down the stairs, hoping some caffeine in her system might clear her head.
She paused abruptly at the bottom of the staircase, whirling around in astonishment at the brightness of the ground floor. Her drapes and curtains were pulled back. A gentle breeze flowed in through several open windows.
Laura noticed a book sitting on the coffee table. She recognized it instantly as the gift Bill had sent her when Cheryl and Sandra had been killed. It had been on her bedside table last night. She frowned; why had he moved it?
She walked over and picked it up, sinking into the sofa as she read the poem he'd marked.
Not knowing when the Dawn will come;
I open every Door,
Or has it Feathers, like a Bird,
Or Billows, like a Shore –
The telephone roused her from her trance-like state.
"Hello?"
She listened to the voice on the other end.
"No," she replied. Then, "Yes." She checked the time. "If I pack now and leave immediately, I can be back in the office first thing tomorrow morning."
She hung up the phone and glanced around.
"Sorry, Bill. I'm not ready to open the doors just yet."