Back to the Drawing Board_7_KNEEding You_T
) (
The fantasy rumbled through my entire being, uninvited. In reality, William standing next to me, me sitting at my desk in the morgue… mmm, but in the fantasy, I stood up, backed him into the wall. Oh, my God, I seduced him mercilessly, pulled out my hairpin, let my curls cascade down over my shoulders, the reddish-blond wisps harbored and buoyed by my bosom, only to enticingly gather them up, sliding my fingers alluringly along my bare neck as I tucked the curls out of the way in a soft twist. I unbuttoned my top button. His eyes, intensely focused and wide, and oh so gorgeous. He watched, resisting, fighting, his square, magnificent jaw locked tight, and I felt the cold air rush over my skin as I popped the next button free, cleavage open for all to see. And at that same moment, like a bull in full rage, his breath surged out of his flaring nostrils. And I knew, he was losing the battle, he was falling, he would succumb.
It happened so quickly, the switch, the flip. He rushed forward, took what he wanted, lifted me up and flung my bottom impatiently onto my desk, his fingers on my blouse, my marshmallowy, bosomy, tissues bending around his touch, pop – pop – pop – each button went. Exhilarating, the implosion in my womb as his face burrowed in, kissing and sucking and nibbling.
From far off and right next to me, William's lovely voice, as if I were underwater, called, "Julia," slowly snapping me out of the lustful whim, "Are you alright?" he asked.
Caught engaging in illusion, I would feign normalcy.
"Oh… Yes, William," I answered automatically, but I had to drop my eyes, embarrassed. Still, my womb screamed, and tweaked so demandingly – I needed him, uncontrollably… public place and his rigid morals be darned! And now it was me who had locked my jaw and fought, so very hard, against my yearning. I felt it slipping, though, with the impulse to check about the morgue, the reminder playing in my head, "You sent Ted to the University. You're alone." And, knowing it was safe, I pushed back my chair and rose to stand before him. I felt it, my mouth soft and opened. My God, I wanted him, so that it hurt drastically, so deep inside.
Living the fantasy, I reached up, his eyes, so beautiful, that warm chocolate brown, and enormous, and they were stuck to mine as my fingers found the top button of my blouse. So delicious, he swallowed, disclosing to me his efforts at self-control. But his eyes strayed, down… to see. Another button, and round, luscious cleavage twitched his groin. I saw his weakening, it floored me and spun me… Wham, I plastered his hard, firm, body against my squishy, moldable one, pinning him against the wall, my hard-earned diplomas now all askew. My hands inside his jacket, thumbs catching his suspenders, his hunky shoulders sliding under my fingers, the cloth dropping to the floor. His breath flooding over me, both suspenders only dangling, first step taken in removing his trousers.
I noticed him do it, fix and plant his arms down to his sides with all his might, resisting. My finger inside the knot of his tie, the snug loop giving way. Then a deep, deep, kiss. Oh my God how my body soared, when he kissed back, hot, velvety soft, slippery and so… yummy, melting away my core. Our breathing elevating, hearts rushing, temperatures rising, flesh writhing and hungry, a single kiss broke off. The tender clicking sound of the releasing of the vacuum that had accumulated between us, as if our lives depended on it, we sucked each other in, and the crisp sound drifted, gently floated, delightfully in the air around us. And he, William Murdoch, despite being in a public place, leaned for it, stretched for another needy kiss. Again, the fresh clicks in between perfect kisses, again and again, and I paused to find his ear, to tell him, "Oh, William, how I love that sound," just before taking his lips once more.
Sensing he was flailing, I needed to push him, tie undone now, shirt buttons dropping away, the next one in my grasp. He would be battling, dizzy and swirling, and soupy in his head, for this was a public place… And he would not. But… now… through our clothing… I could… feel… him… warm… hard, so very - Ready... And, oh my God, I knew he wanted me. He would not be able to deny it, and he knew I knew, and it made him delectably vulnerable.
"Over the edge, before he can regain control," my brain sent me the order, and I seized the moment, fingers down to the round button, just atop his trousers, pinch, and gone…
"Julia, someone could walk in," he warned, his voice strained with the effort, his hands taking mine, stopping their advancing.
I did not behave, wriggled my hands loose, and the lush air of my words melding with the frantic rippling of his dense, warm, surging breath, I told him, increasing the danger, jolting the thrill, "Yes, William, they could."
And I slipped my hand in, I was inside. In all my life, nothing so wonderful as the feel of him. I stoked him closer and closer to his edge of tolerance…
And then he catapulted me… with his earthy moan – "Mmm."
My body fell, or was it the floor rising, and I told him, "My God, William, I love that sound even more," with a whisper in his ear. And immediately he responded, humid and hot, then, with such a roar afterwards, demanding and ravenous, his breath barreled down… so straight down, to my deepest insides, with such a wrench the tightness tugged, knotting beyond my ability to bear it.
His hands moved, for his will had crumbled, rough and hungry they groped downwards, soaking in my curves, in along the contour of my waist, so small, out over my hips, and then around behind my…
"Mmm," my God I had to… to feel our touch THERE, and he moaned again with the new sensation – blocked only by the tiniest stitches of clothing. So roughly, his hold, as he took my buttocks in his grip, pulling me fiercely down to him.
Only then did I let completely go of his lips, nibble on his bristly, virile jaw. "I want you," I begged him. Then with a fury, his arms so rugged surrounding me, the flip, the roll, the thud and…
"What… Oh… The wall…" my brain floundered to explain the sensations.
It couldn't possibly be fast enough – our touching, our connecting, our joining.
Fiercely, savagely, he pressed his larger body into mine, restraining me, jamming me against the wall. I had to have him, now. I reached down to raise my skirt, scrunching it up, wildly, and rushing, lifting my skirt for him. Soon he'd find I was naked, bear, available, underneath it… for him. After that, to shove at his opened trousers…
His voice, breathy, desperate, he warned me, "Hands to yourself, doctor," he commanded.
At first, I couldn't identify it, the word in my head meaningless as he bound my wrists with it… "His tie… His tie." My arms up, wrists pinned to the wall above my head, he locked me there with only one, strong arm, his other hand free to ravage me. Me, completely helpless. He would have his way with me… his knee into my thigh, spreading my legs wide, my toes reaching with desperation to stay to the ground, him so solid between my… under me, lifting, pushing, opening, widening, in… So Strong… "Mmm," beyond possibility, closer… "Please William!"
Closer, such force, he made love to me, robust, and primitive… "William, my God, please, don't stop…" We gushed and whirled together in a torrent towards the very universe's edges, the top collapsing down, the bottom flying up. Almost! So Close! "My God, William! Don't Stop!" my own words revealing my utter devastation…
Blast! Blaring! Was that the phone ringing?
No. No. I think it's the alarm.
Just a dream. Just a dream. "Oh my God, how terribly I longed for him…"
Julia felt it surround her, their bedroom. She felt her body be wobbled and dipped and flopped about softly by it, his side of the bed bumping and rocking as he moved. She heard it, the alarm clock's ceasing its toll. Heavenly, his breath in her ear. Delicious, he's kissing me. "Mmm," Wake up. Wake up.
William's voice dry, he asked her, "Shall we share a shower, Mrs. Murdoch…" I'm in his arms, magnificent, wonderful, warm, kisses… "We have to hurry, hmm?" he coaxed.
So big engulfing me, "My God I want him…" His arms, warm, strong, surrounding me… lifting me… taking me. "I'd go with him anywhere," even the thought in my head, breathless, with the overpowering, overwhelming force of my need to be with him.
Their lovemaking, drowning them in ecstasy in the shower, this glorious morning, was… hearty, the need to touch each other in their deepest, most perfect spot, only intensified by the urgency, for the clock ticked, and at any moment, their children would knock upon their bedroom door.
Afterwards, limp, their warm contentment rendering each of them softer, they hurried to cover their nakedness in a nightgown… and pajamas, and headed out, to greet their children.
Julia leaned in the doorframe of William Jr.'s bedroom to see their four-year old son playing on the floor, occupying himself patiently. "You're waiting for Daddy and me?" she asked him, feeling her husband's body settle behind her. How her heart erupted with her son's happy smile, the boy running full speed to have his morning hugs. Squatting down to receive him, Julia looked into her son's beautiful, chocolate brown eyes, so handsome like his father.
"Your hair is wet, Mommy?" he wondered, taking a cold, damp strand of her hair in his fingers.
Julia replied, with a quick glance up at her husband, "Your Daddy and I had a shower."
"Were you dirty?" the child asked innocently.
Oh, how mischievously Julia's mind jumped at the pun, so that she failed to completely mask her double-entendre inspired giggle as she held William's eye more firmly, and answered, "I guess it's true… your Daddy and I were a bit dirty this morning."
How lovely, her husband's subtle scolding, ducking his chin, raising an eyebrow at her.
"You smell so good," the little one noticed with their closer hug, and the sweet waft of his mother's scent in his nostrils, that followed from it.
William reached down and tossed his son up into his arms. "And you, little man, are a little stinker," he teased, rolling and tickling and laughing playfully with him. Briefly holding his son nearly upside down, William uprighted him, and they headed for the next children in line.
"I don't want a bath!" the boy complained as they passed by the hallway bathroom.
From behind them as they moved further down the hallway, and around the corner to the last bedroom in the hall, his mother said, her son's brown eyes peering back at her from over her husband's shoulder, "You're safe this morning, young man… But tonight…" her voice lingered threateningly.
Inside the spacious bedroom, Katie and Chelsea, too, played quietly. Hugs quickly grew into roughhousing, and soon, the tremendously joyful sounds of children laughing and screaming, and Daddies and Mommies growling and chasing, filled the house.
By the time the two parents were out of breath, chests heaving, red-faced and happy, but now reaching the limit of their time to devote to such fun and foolery, Claire-Marie arrived. Having come from the servant's quarters on the other side of the house, she had anticipated the lovely family scene as her approach grew closer, climbing the stairs, almost there, the glee of it all putting a bounce in her step. Yet, playing her role, she marked her arrival with a take-charge announcement, "Good morning Murdoch's. Time to get dressed, is it not?"
Protests rang out from the children, not wanting to stop their game.
"Now how do you think that kind of 'good morning' greeting makes Claire-Marie feel," their mother scolded.
Good hearts, the children, they rushed to hug their nanny to make-up for it, and the morning routine moved on to the next stage.
Before they went down for breakfast, Julia informed William that she would be giving him a taste of his own medicine, and, much like he had done when he gave her the Christmas gift of their trip to the Galapagos, she would be giving him clues as to the what his Anniversary present was.
William held back his internal concern, for he had come to believe, as they had done for the past six years, that they would be following the tradition of giving gifts made of particular materials, the specific ones required for the given year – the first year - paper, the second year - cotton, etc. This year, their seventh year, was to be copper and wool, and he had worked so very hard to think of something meeting that requirement to give her…
"Oh, William," she took his hand and led him to the foot of the bed to sit, "Come on. It'll be fun," she encouraged. She ducked around to her side of the bed, and carried it back to him from her night table…
Well, he wasn't sure quite what it was, at first. But he did see part of the theme in the clue – copper buttons. Quickly he figured out what the clue was, but he struggled with its meaning. A calendar, with nearly the whole month of August covered in copper buttons. His mind raced. The birthstone for August is sardonyx. It's a striped reddish-copper colored stone, marble-like in texture… He had briefly considered using it on their bathroom fixtures when first building the house. Could the days on the calendar be when the stonemasons would be redoing their bathrooms? William's mouth wrinkled up. He just didn't think so. And what of the buttons – perhaps she's buying me a new suit?
"Well?" Julia pushed him, her sparkling blue eyes urging him to say something.
He shook his head, her resulting smile helping him see the fun in it after all. "I can't… I have no idea," he told her.
So beautiful her bounce. "Good," she answered him. "Now you see how it feels… Don't worry. There will be another clue soon," she teased, then squeezed his arm in a loving hug, "Perhaps you'll get it then," she urged.
) (
By the time the Murdoch's stepped off the carriage to go their separate ways, her to the morgue, him into Stationhouse #4, they had covered much in the way of preparations for the Anniversary party. As the list of people to invite had grown bigger and bigger, they soon agreed it would be best to serve the food buffet-style, planning to put Eloise in charge, and instructing her to hire whomever else she wanted to help. They could set it all up in the dining room. Not having enough room for so many people to mingle comfortably in their house, they thought to use both the front and back porches, hoping for good weather. Needing more chairs, they decided to rent some, and then agreed to add renting a party tent, to put in the backyard, as well. And with that thought it had occurred to Julia, lighting up her eyes, making it impossible for William to say no to her, that she wanted to have dancing – if not in the tent, then in their living room.
So excited, she had suggested enthusiastically, that they invite their Dance Instructor, from the dance studio where they took lessons together all those years ago. William's memory as amazing as ever, he remembered the man's name - Professor Otranto. And then he had leaned close to her in the carriage, and agreed with himself from way back then, that the dance lessons had truly been, "well worth the eight dollars," earning himself the pleasure of her giggle.
Now however, feet on the ground, a day of work ahead of them, and Julia still having a lecture class at the University to give as well later in the afternoon, they were both feeling overwhelmed. Spotting the Inspector arriving right alongside of their carriage, Julia whispered to her husband, "Perhaps we should have Margaret handle all of this?"
Relieved of the burden of having to deal with it all, William quickly agreed.
) (
Still bothered by the case of his abduction, William sat at his desk, looking at the photo of the man they had found murdered – the man Meyers had revealed was his captor – the enemy spy who had taken the false identity of James Wimmer – the man who had been killed by Meyers' best man, put in charge of protecting him. He wondered after this "best man's" skills, the man's charge having had come so very close to death in the end. Guilt shoved at his conscious – this man could have died trying to save him, protecting him.
Quickly, the feelings too strong, he tucked the photograph back under the, now officially closed, file on his desk and stood to look out window. How is it possible, his mind wouldn't let it go, that I could be conscious enough to have been shown, and obviously grilled about, Rutherford's half-life formulas… So much so that I remember them well enough to recreate them over and over again so obsessively… and yet, not remember the man responsible? Turning his glance to see her morgue, he considered asking Julia to continue examining the drug he had been…
"Sir," George's voice from the door, "You're needed."
As so often happened with such news, his heart raced with the sense of thrill, of excitement. He had noticed too, however, that he always felt his face frown. It was dark, all this murder and mayhem. "Has anyone called Dr. Ogden?" he asked.
"Yes sir, Dixon, at the front desk," George answered. The constable, with his helmet already in hand, waited for the detective to grab his homburg.
) (
The victim was a young woman who had been stabbed, the knife still wedged in her chest, in her own home. The call had come in from a cleaner who had found the body in the kitchen. There was no sign of forced entry, no footprints in the blood pool around the body, no broken dishes or other signs of a struggle.
Dr. Ogden arrived shortly. She stated the obvious right away, trying with her usual failed morgue humor to tease, about the cause of death likely being, "the knife sticking out of her chest." Time of death was determined to be only three or four hours prior.
Julia stood, with William following to also stand next to her. "Can I take the body now?" she asked.
"Yes, doctor," her husband replied. His professional stiffness always a bit uncomfortable for her, she failed to stay completely in her role, and smiled at him.
William returned her smile, and hid his inner conflict, for as usual, she warmed his heart, but it did tug at his concentration when working a case, and, so important, his initial findings at the scene. However, he betrayed his tender turmoil with a sigh.
She nodded to him, an effort at apology, and got back to the case. "You'll be stopping by the morgue to retrieve the weapon, and her fingermarks, detective?" she asked.
Having found out that the woman was married, and her husband off to work, William told her that he and George would stop first to question the victim's husband.
"After that then," she replied.
"Very good," he tipped his hat at her.
) (
It was Constable Crabtree who came by for the knife and the fingermarks of the victim. "Thank you doctor," he said collecting them. "Detective Murdoch has brought the husband in for questioning," he told her. "The man's in the cells while the detective prepares for the interview. It seems the detective suspects him of the murder. He'll very much want to see if the husband's fingermarks are on the knife…"
"That won't be conclusive, George. The man lived in the same house as the victim – and as the knife," the doctor interrupted, causing a slight frown to form on the constable's face.
Changing the subject, George asked, "Doctor…"
The look in Julia's eye showed that she heard his concern.
"Well, perhaps it's none of my business," he took a deep breath, pushed himself out with it, "But the detective seems to still be… troubled, I guess, by, err…"
"His abduction," Julia answered him by knowing, "Yes, George. It was quite a traumatic thing to go through…"
George nodded, agreeing.
"And, I must say, someone who is so much in control… of themselves," Julia sighed, feeling compassion for her husband, "as William is… I think it troubles him most that he can't remember."
Wanting her opinion, George asked her, "Do you think Mr. Meyers truly believed taking such a risk with the detective was warranted… That having Canada's best spy watching over him would honestly be good enough to keep the detective safe?"
Having responded to the tension the question had raised inside of her by reaching up and rubbing her brow… And then recognizing how much the gesture was one she had picked up from William, Julia softly chuckled at herself before she responded, "From what I know of the man, he can't be trusted. But, my gut instinct tells me that he wouldn't do anything to hurt William." She finished her thought by wrinkling a corner of her mouth at George, another gesture from her husband, she noted.
"I guess I'd agree," George replied, and then bid her good-bye, leaving with the weapon and the victim's fingermarks.
) (
Her preliminary postmortem report in hand, Dr. Ogden caught her husband as he exited the Interview Room. Detective Murdoch pinched his lips together upon seeing her there and said, "The husband confessed to killing his wife."
"That was quick," the doctor replied.
William nodded, "Yes," he agreed. "It seems the burden of it was more than he could bare. I had done nothing more than open up the handkerchief to reveal the knife," he added.
She took a deep breath, admired him, for although he would never say it, never take credit for it, Detective William Murdoch shone particularly brightly when it came to conducting interviews of suspects, and such a subtle move as displaying, before a guilty man, the very weapon he had used to do the regretted deed, was truly brilliant.
"I think I might have found something that will make him regret killing her even more," she claimed. "His wife was…"
"Pregnant," William finished her sentence, earning a stare from his wife that offered both amazement and annoyance. He explained, "Her husband confessed to killing her because she had been having relations with someone else. He became enraged when she told him this morning that she was pregnant."
"I see," Julia replied.
William went on, "He couldn't take the fact that she was pretending that he was the father. It seems they had not been, um… having relations for quite some time, but only a few weeks ago she'd become," He glanced up into his wife's familiar blue eyes, struggling with the wording, "Well, she had been very… insistent, lately."
"I see," Julia answered. She considered saying it aloud, but hampered the thought. Male jealousy, once again had ruined the lives of three people, for the man's wife and her child were now dead, and he would likely hang…
Interrupting her thoughts, William added, his comment infuriating her, "I don't think he'll get the noose. Men on a jury tend to feel a kinship with… such a motive."
Arriving in his office, Julia decided to push her anger at the male-dominated, unfair, sick world aside, and bring up another topic. "Before the call about the body came in, I phoned Margaret…"
"Oh?" he asked…
She smiled and went on, "She took the job. Margaret will be planning our Anniversary Party from here."
"Good," he answered simply, "Very good."
"I told her about the things we had agreed we wanted…" Julia poked him playfully with her elbow, "Including having a dancefloor."
William surprised her, for all the windows in his office were opened, as he took her in his arms. "Delightful," he said, "I will dance the night away with my beautiful wife, then," he promised winsomely.
Julia's eyes dropped down to his lips, and the tension between them grew, both feeling the need to share a kiss, both fighting against that need, the back and forth of it only charging the desire higher. It was William who withdrew, let go of her, stepped to the other side of his desk.
Lilting on the lovely waves of it, Julia fought in her head to remember what they had been talking about. "Margaret! Yes, Margaret," the memory came.
"Oh, and William," she drew his attention, "I hope you don't mind…" the words surging an element of worry in her chest, for it was at this very moment that she realized he might, "I added James Pendrick to the list of invitations." She hurried past the discomfort she saw registering on his face, to say, "You know, as he's back from Panama now."
With a sigh, William sat down in his chair. "Too late to do anything about it now," his own voice told him, "It's already done."
His mind replayed the three of them – the Inspector, James Pendrick, and himself – in the bar. The sting of it still resonated as he remembered trying to break between the two enchanted men, bonding over their shared thrills at the World's Fair. He had made an effort to connect, reminding James that the two of them had actually flown – together – over Niagara Falls…
For her part, Julia was feeling regret. Her beautiful, sensitive husband looked so ambivalent with her news, and she remembered how nonchalant and dismissive he had been about the effect his having been left out by Pendrick and the Inspector had had on him. She remembered it so clearly, with a tug at her heart strings, the hurt look on his face as he sat, distracting himself with his latest invention – a hand-light that shone ultraviolet light, to use more easily at a crime scene to look for traces of blood and other bodily fluids. It had seemed to her that her husband and the other inventor had been developing quite a strong friendship, that was until Pendrick had become so enthralled by, captivated by, addicted to – really, his 'Fountain of Youth' pill.
The memory ran in her mind. She had sensed something was troubling William, and somehow, she had known it had to do with James Pendrick being at the station that day, so she had asked William about it directly… "Oh, yes. That was it," Julia remembered. She had said he should have invited Pendrick over to their home. She swore she heard it in William's voice, he was choked up when he told her, "Oh, I think he's out with the Inspector. The two of them seem to have struck up quite a friendship since spending time together in St. Louis at the World's Fair."
Clearing her throat first, pushing the sadness down, Julia said, "I hear he's back flying now," hoping to re-foster their connection, "Margaret said airplanes, more so than rocket-ships, I think."
"Good," he replied. He would make the best of it. So quickly he looked away, the memory of her telling him that Pendrick had kissed her searing his jealousy once more. "Perhaps it will give us something to talk about then," he worked to cheer himself.
A big sigh released, Julia decided to move away from it. "Well, husband," she said, "I'm off to class. Miss James is finishing up with body, and I'll write up the final postmortem report tomorrow."
Wanting to feel closer to her before she left, he asked, "And Dr. Ogden, what thrilling topic will you be dazzling your lucky students with today?"
She sat next to him, her buttocks leaning against his desk, and then leaned down nearer to him. "Today, detective, they will encounter the astounding world of forensic entomology…"
"Oh!" he sounded truly delighted.
"Yes," she bubbled with glee. "I intend to share with them my own, young, early encounter with the subject… when a brilliant, and dare I say handsome, young detective placed some beetle pupae I found in the body into rotting liver… in his office!" she giggled with the memory of it, and reached up to cover her nose, adding, "Oh my, what a stink! But, the discovery that this detective's pupae had hatched five days after all the others in the area led directly to the discovery that the body had been kept on ice! It was the main clue that ended up breaking the case! It still amazes me, William!" she declared.
He stood and took her in his arms again. "And I suppose your students will be able to guess the identity of this detective?" he pushed.
Such a lovely giggle, mixed with the guilty pleasure of loving the very man, "I do suspect so… yes," she replied, kissing him – saying good-bye.
Enjoying the feelings that watching his wife's round, and curvy, and sexy backside as she walked away invoked in him, William decided, there and then, that tonight he would be buying a certain beautiful pathologist flowers.
) (
Julia Ogden's voice teetered on the edge of excitement as she told her colleague about her lecture. "Truly, Leo, you'd have been amazed at both the absolutely horrified and disgusted looks on their faces… and then, only fifteen minutes later, their totally awestruck grins at the wonder and the power of it all. They loved it!" she declared…
Julia not in her office at the University, but the door left open, William considered that she might be elsewhere in the building…
Then…
Dr. Carruthers seated at his desk, Dr. Ogden sitting beside him on his desktop, she pulled up her skirt to reveal her stockinged legs. Their heads huddled close as he commented, his hands firmly holding her knee…
Leo spotted the shadow, the presence, just there in the background – at his doorway, jolting his eyes to check more closely. Astounding the way panic had already flushed through him, his heart pounding, his voice dry. "It was most definitely…" He was sure of it…
"Julia!" he nearly screamed it.
She turned to look, catching only the man's back – his hat – a homburg!
"That was your husband!" Professor Carruthers warned.
"Oh my God!" she completely folded with the dread of it. "He must think we were…" Julia was in a dead run before she even realized she had left Dr. Carruthers' office. She took off like a shot after William.
Down the stairs, around the corner.
The front door just closing. Faster Julia!
Which way?!
There!
Faster!
"William!" she called, to no avail, as a matter of fact, he only picked up the pace of his fleeing.
"William wait!" she screamed it now.
He could hear by her voice behind him, she was running – fast, and she was panicked, too.
Now, from close behind him, her tone deeper, lower, she ordered it really, "William Murdoch, you stop this instant!" Julia had broken down into a fast-paced walk, was working to quell her panic, to be more in control. Not yet within arm's reach, she noticed the yellow roses in is hand and she felt a sinking pain flood through her.
"William, it's not what you think," she pleaded. "He was examining my knee, uh, comparing it to his…" She had reached him now – took a hold of his elbow from behind. "Please William," and such a relief shot through her when he stopped.
She stepped around in front of him, ducked and tried to catch his eyes. They were down on the sidewalk, somehow both fixed and glazed. His jaw was tight. My God, she felt her throat closing up with the fear… her eyes welling with tears. He had to believe her! Just had to!
First – it was always first, an inner voice told her – BREATHE. The sound of her collapsed lungs trying to take in air, gave it away, her distress was beyond palpable. Julia outright distraught with tears, reasoned with him. "Trust in what, I know, you know, William – our love. Don't doubt it so quickly. Remember how much you love me, and I love you. Remember it in such a way that you feel it… and you will know, then… that you are wrong about what you are thinking…"
His face lifted, his eyes, huge with betrayal, and yet so intently focused with anger, he said sarcastically, "So, there is no romantic interest… between you?"
It surprised her really, her own reaction – for she was angry.
Julia's chin jutted in the air, defiantly. "There could be, I suppose… If I were not so madly in love with you!" she yelled it at him. But then, she softened, "Damnit William, just being near you still gives me butterflies half the time…" she forced herself to breathe again, calmer. "Did you not consider our facial expressions?" she pressed.
William's jaw dropped. He was astounded – absolutely shocked. Stretching his arms wide, asking, his courting gift extending the length of his torment. He momentarily seemed to be about to cry. His beautiful eyes glassing over. But, he fought back from it, grit his teeth. Furious he let go a huge groan, "Arghh!" He turned. He would walk away.
Abruptly, a newfound fury in his eyes, he turned back to face her… to confront her. "Julia, you were sitting on the man's desk! Your…" his eyes darted down to her dress and he flung his arm at it, "skirt up, on your thighs…" And just for a moment he held her eyes…
And she saw how devastated he was and it collapsed her, surging her face with heat, and pain. And then she saw him react to that, and grow so deeply, deeply hurt, as he said…
"And he was… rubbing… your flesh," and he turned away, but she knew there were tears in his eyes now.
He walked away.
She followed behind.
She would tell him. He would hear. It would make sense. It would all be alright.
"I was arguing that you can tell gender from just a knee joint, if need be… based on that case years ago, remember?" walking less than a step behind him, she pleaded.
He remembered. From somewhere so far, far away, there was a slight opening, a tiny little spurt of – hope.
Her voice, in its own way lovely with its unique squeak, continued from behind him, seeming to gain ground. "We found only the femur, after a body had been dunked in hydrochloric acid, and I concluded it was from a woman – because of the dimorphic angle, where the thigh joins the knee, the angle being widened by the female's broader hips up at the top of their femur…"
William stopped. He remembered it. It was plausible.
From behind him, she watched as his strong shoulders lifted with his big sigh.
"You do remember?" she asked. The question was pointless, for as he turned back to face her she saw on his face that he did. That he believed her. And even, just a bit, due to a wrinkle at the corner of his mouth, that he was sorry.
Her relief was so intense, she nearly broke into tears again. She immediately apologized, for the emotions had flown so very dangerously high, "I'm sorry William."
"Me too," he said simply, and he offered her the flowers, and she took them, wiping away a tear as she did so.
"Thanks. Their lovely," she said.
They turned back towards the University, she slipped her arm into his as they walked. She collected her things. They found Professor Carruthers, still in his office. Julia told him goodnight. And together, they took a cab home.
) (
Later that evening, before bed, the same argument erupted again. Julia was still feeling angry about the fact that he would even think she would be having an affair. For his part, William was still defensive about having been jealous.
Dressed for bed, but not able to bring themselves to get into bed, because of the still burning disagreement between them, William admitted, "True, I'm completely certain, confident, that there was nothing sexual, sensual or romantic going on between you and Professor Carruthers – at least NOW I am. But, what I saw when I walked into that man's office... Well, no man should ever have to…"
"Oh, I see. So, your defense is that you're a man and I'm your wife," she barreled forward. She felt she was on offense with this. Soon he would be on the ropes.
"Any other man would have thought the same thing, if they saw…" he stood his ground.
"I didn't marry any of these other men, William, I married you. I fell in love with you. Because I thought you were better!" she insisted, pronouncing the word 'better' crisply.
"I… I…"
"I thought William Murdoch didn't believe women were men's possessions," she hit hard.
"I don…"
"Didn't walk around thinking that a man could own a woman... control a woman," she slammed her point.
Feeling terribly defensive, yet standing up for himself still, he argued, "I don't thin…"
"Whose leg is this, William?" Julia challenged, pulling up her nightgown, changing her tactics.
Oh, despite his efforts, his eyes were drawn to it, as she extended her leg up into the air enticingly, impossibly long, the flesh succulently curvy at the back of the calf… Inside his head he yielded with a secret moan, as he noticed, amazing how it went right to his groin, the inside of her thigh, the flesh there remarkably firm and supple.
"Is this your leg, William?" she asked, with warning in her tone.
Of course, he knew it was nothis leg. It is her leg, no doubt… but, my God, he wanted to touch it, feel it in his hands, kiss, and suck, and, Lord, he wanted to be in between those luscious, luscious legs. Just the thought of it dizzied him, so delicious. Suddenly, William's Jaw jammed tight with fury, for he had let himself think it, imagine it, another man there…
"Does this leg belong to you, William?" her eyes burrowed into him, waiting, not backing off.
He wrinkled his face, asking for apology before he spoke the words, "Yes and no…"
Dumbfounded for a split second, the world seemed to pause, to teeter on the brink, before Julia gritted her teeth, rammed her chin in the air. "Wrong answer mister!" she stormed, "Wrong answer!" almost with disbelief, with utter disgust. She grabbed his pillow, fished a blanket out of the closet, and then shoved the bedding into his chest.
William donned his deer-in-the-headlights look, watching his whole world slip away.
Julia's fiery tirade burned on, "You don't own me, William… Despite what you might think!"
By the time she had fired that last statement at him, he found he was out in the hall, the bedroom door already slammed in his face, and his only hope was that the noise had not woken the children.
) (
Sleep had not come easily to either adult Murdoch that night, but by morning, exhaustion had taken its toll, and they each were deep in slumber when the children stirred. Julia was nudged awake by their little knock at the bedroom door. "Come in," she called out to them, working to gain her wits about her. She had her nightgown on… William wasn't here…
Her heart sunk with the awareness, the memory. He was down on the couch. They had fought. She felt awful.
Bouncing and bubbly, the three little ones piled into bed with her. Hugs and kisses and questions about where Daddy was, and then their mother asked them to be little angels, and play for a while upstairs, because she wanted to talk with their Daddy downstairs, on the couch, in private.
Down at the foot of the stairs, Julia wondered if Eloise had noticed her husband had slept on the couch, certain the astute woman had. She heard a clang and a clink, here and there, in the kitchen. A part of her anticipated the warmth and comfort of what would come, the family, all together in there, sharing breakfast, she and William right as rain. "Let's make this right," she thought.
"He looks cozy," she tried to reassure herself, standing over him. She concluded that he was still sleeping, his back to her, his black hair ruffled about on top of the pillow, his big, rugged, shoulder poking out from under the blanket.
She sat down on the couch, where his knees bent away making a little pocket of room for her. Her weight shifted his balance, woke him. He rolled over. Sleepy, his look. William pulled his legs from behind her and sat up, dropping one foot to the floor, bending his other knee up onto the couch between them, and then propping his elbow up on the back of the couch. He watched as she slid back to rest her back into the soft fabric and turn to him, mirroring his position, soliciting the rising of her nightgown, exposing between them the very legs that had started the whole ordeal.
Not lacking in tension, yet stronger than it between them, seemed to be their trust. Grounded in that feeling, she said, "I'm sorry… William."
Pointless in hiding his relief, he kept contact with her eyes. "For what?" he asked, his voice dry and scratchy from sleep.
"That was a fair question," she seemed to scold herself. Yet, one she had not been prepared for.
She wrinkled a corner of her mouth, admitting it. "It's hard to say, exactly… hurting you."
He sighed. He was feeling it so intensely, how much he loved this woman, how much he needed this woman. And it was the pure, honest power of those feelings that had always driven him in these most difficult moments, inspired and motivated him to dig with all his might, to find the truth. She deserved – they deserved – the truth.
He gave her a glance, she was waiting. She knew him well by now. When it came to finding his feelings, speed was not his virtue. He rubbed his brow. He sighed again. With that he started, "I was angry with you, you were right about that, but I was having trouble understanding why…"
Julia felt her own body softening. William was rarely able to admit to his anger. If nothing else, she knew in her heart that this man before her, was trying.
William went on, "It wasn't because you let another man touch your bare leg, at least, not mostly…" Another sigh, another rub of his brow. "It was because you are so demanding, Julia… So hard to satisfy…" He risked a glance, being quite self-disclosing now… "Julia…" A deep breath, it was growing clearer in his mind. "You set the bar too high… I was not as good as you expected me to be, as you wanted me to be… and I guess I don't think I'll ever be able to… trust you that much, to not…" he sighed again, the pressure feeling exponential, for he would have to admit to his failings, William glanced, finishing, "I don't think I am capable of it, of not rushing to jealousy. And…" William swallowed, ensuring the strength of his voice, "It hurt, not being good enough… disappointing you. And then," with a big exhale he said it, "that made me angry." He wrinkled his face, sharing with her his doubt, for to him, it did not make much sense.
But to her it did. And although she knew she would not be able to lower her expectations, for she did tend to presume him to be perfect, she regretted the pain her wishing for such a thing had caused for him. She found she admired him even more than she ever thought she could, for his bravery, his dedication and loyalty to her, and to the truth. William Murdoch was an astoundingly good man, and truth be told, he was perfect – for her. Her heart filled with love, and she so very much wanted him to know the love she felt for him, how much she loved him… She wanted him to feel good… to wash away all the pain she had ever caused him, ever.
"In all the world, William," she said, leaning close, kissing his cheek, scooching closer, "there is not a better man." She touched his jaw, stroked her thumb across his morning stubble. Held his face in her hand, tugged gently at him, brought his gorgeous eyes to hers. "Not perfect…" she said.
He wrinkled his face admitting it… took a deep breath.
She swung a leg over him shifting him as she did so, riding up her nightgown, sat in his lap, with two hands holding securely to his face, she swore, "But I couldn't possibly love you more, even if you were perfect." Oh, with every ounce of love she had, she kissed him, more and more.
Just for a moment, she found his ear, and asked him, urged him, "Do you feel it William – how much I love you?" and she showered him with more kisses, "with all my heart, with every molecule and atom of my body, and all my soul, down to my deepest core, my center, and my universe, William, I love you."
He yielded to the overwhelming truth of it, and she felt him accept it, know it down to his bones – William Murdoch knew her love. She responded instantly, raising her passion – pushing against him to lie him down underneath her. She would drown him with it. Jiggly and soft, and wriggling, and pressing in against his body, she lured him.
But… William Murdoch… was quite adept at resisting temptation. He reminded himself where they were. His body stiffened under her, his hands taking a tender hold, stopping her. "Eloise…" he whispered.
"Of course, he's right," the thought scolded her. Julia pulled back… giggled, for she had imagined the other eyes that might be watching them – those of their three children peeking and watching from around the corner at the foot of the stairs.
"And others," she added, turning to check if her suspicions were right. Like lightning strikes thunder, the response to the shift in their parents' gazes to their direction was destined to incite a raucous and rumbling pitter-patter of rushed footsteps up the stairs. William and Julia shared a knowing look.
And so began another day, with each Murdoch spouse admitting to the other that they were, and probably always would be, "needing you."
)) ((