I made burritos for dinner and the turtles wolfed them down. Splinter politely ate a bit of one. They retired into Splinter's chamber, the interior of which I still had not seen, for nearly an hour, and then slipped out the passageway, into the night.
I washed the dishes, then the whole kitchen, then paced around. Splinter emerged soundlessly from his room and slid onto the couch. "Lia," he said softly. "How long has it been since you have played your instrument?"
"A while..."
"I would be most honored if you would play something for me."
I smiled at him and pulled my guitar out of its case and sat in the chair to tune it. The tuning turned into a sparse rendition of 'Sakura", which I had never forgotten from my first lessons.
"Lovely," said Splinter, his eyes closed. I kept picking until it worked into an Irish folk song my mother had taught me.
It was a long, sad, song, so I cut it off at three verses. I was running up and down the frets, picking out little riffs and deciding what to sing next, when the turtles came in the passage door. I stopped playing. "Do you have it?" I asked.
"Yeah," Donatello carefully carried a brown paper bag and set it on the table. I started to bolt up, but Leonardo was kneeling before Splinter, and I stopped. The other three joined him. They looked serious and sat at formal attention.
"Master," said Leonardo. "Someone knew we were going to be there. They were watching for us."
"They did not attack?" asked Splinter.
"No. If that was their intention, they missed their opportunity. We waited a long time before breaking cover. Finally Mike created a distraction, and Don was able to grab the parcel. I'm certain we weren't seen, but someone was waiting."
"Did you see them?"
"Yeah," said Raphael. "They were Ninja. Or dressed like it anyway."
"You were not seen?" Splinter's eyes narrowed.
"No."
"Who knew of the location?"
Leonardo shook his head. "Only Lia, and Adeline Jackson."
"I can't believe she would tell anyone," I said. "I trust her...at least..." something felt like a punch in my stomach.
"This doesn't make any sense." said Donatello. " How many Ninja could Adeline Jackson know? we watched her, She arrived in one cab, dropped it off, and left in another. Those guys, whoever they were, were there before she was."
"Someone got to her," said Raphael.
"I think we should see what's in this package," said Leonardo.
XXXX
Adeline gazed down at her hands as the coffee cup rattled unsteadily on the saucer. She shook her head, partly amused, partly annoyed with herself. I'm acting like a schoolgirl, she scolded herself, all nervous and shook. She peeked out between the overhead cabinets and the countertop at the man who sat on her couch, his back to her. His fair hair gleamed like pearl in the lowered lights of her living room. What am I thinking, that he won't still be there?"
"Peter, how do you like your coffee?"
"Coffee?" asked Peter from the couch. He turned around to smile at her indulgently. She knew her nervousness was apparent to him. "You don't have to make coffee for me. How about a couple of nice glasses?"
Adeline tilted her head and came around the counter. "What have you got there?" On the coffee table sat a bottle of Rose'. The label had been her favorite a long time ago. Now she knew where he must have gone when she excused herself briefly to drop off the mysterious package for Lia. Now she felt doubly off-center. "Oh, Peter, I don't drink."
Peter leaned back twisting around to see her again. "At all?"
"At all."
He looked thoughtful. "How long has it been?"
Adeline drew in a breath and came around the counter into the living room. "When Frank died, I went through a real hard time. I lost everything, not so much because of his death, as how I tried to cope with it. I lost almost everything behind drinking."
"Ten years?" Peter stroked his chin.
She nodded.
"Long time ago," he said, smiling. "Things change."
Adeline heard an alarm bell go off in her mind. She imagined herself forcefully hitting the snooze button. No, she thought, Peter is just too gentle and sweet. He just doesn't understand.
On the other hand, she certainly didn't want to have to explain to him how it had been with her. Not now, not with the way he had been looking at her.
Peter's face was boyish and sincere. "Alright," he said. "One glass, then."
"One glass...?" repeated Adeline.
"I mean just bring one glass for me. I can't drink coffee at night."
"Oh, of course!" Adeline felt more off-balance than ever. She got a wine glass out from behind everything else in the cabinet and shakily poured herself a cup of coffee.
"Come on out here and sit with me," said Peter as he uncorked the bottle. "As nice as your stereo is, I did come up to talk with you."
Adeline sat on the couch with Peter, not too far away, and watched him slowly pour himself a glass of wine. Condensation made little rivulets on the bottle and Adeline wondered how he had kept it that cold. She was aware of the sip he took, and how he held it in his mouth. He sighed, "Another superb dinner."
"Yes, it was," Adeline rolled her head a little, stretching her neck to release the tension. It was an unconscious act, which over the years had become habitual. She realized too late the response it would trigger, though it was really alright. She didn't think he was in her apartment just to listen to her stereo, either.
Peter sat up, and set his glass down, motioning her to sit forward. He softly said his hands on her shoulders. "You know," he said. "Believe it or not, at one time in my meandering quest for myself, I studied Shiatsu..here..."
Adeline sighed, determined to feel comfortable and relax into the warmth of Peter's hands. She knew this dance. She heard the alarm bell, one more time, faintly in her mind, and pushed it aside. It's been so long, she thought, no wonder I'm nervous. Peter gently massaged her shoulders, moving his hands down her back and finding tight places to coax into relaxing. The soft music wandered through the air, and the room glowed warmly. Adeline closed her eyes. The sensation of a warm, glowing ball began to form in her mind, superceding all other thoughts. It was comforting, relaxing, the warm dusky color of Rose'. She felt Peter's breath very close, on her neck, and then his cheek touching her hair, and the warmth of his lips behind her ear.
"Addie..." he whispered.
She gasped, but had no will to pull away. "What did you call me?" she asked in a hushed tone.
"Addie," he breathed into her hair. "I said 'Addie'."
"Frank used to call me that..."
Peter pulled her around to face him. "I know..." he murmured, laying his mouth over hers. He tasted of sweet wine. He drew her in close and she felt engulfed by him, almost ready to lose herself entirely. He withdrew a little and she felt the wine glass on her lips. "Drink..." he said, kissing her forehead. She did so obediently, and the warmth spread through her like fire. "Good girl..." he kissed her deeper and harder, and as she felt the last wisp of resistance waft away like smoke, he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom.