Chapter 14 – Bless the Child
Thursday May 14, 9:10 a.m.
Veronica
The phone resting on her dash buzzes; the words 'No Name' and a Los Angeles area code flash up at her. Veronica ignores the call and glances across the street. Nothing. When her voice mail dings she plays back the message:
"Hey, Logan here. Just checking in to see how Gai took everything. If you want me to come down sooner it's no problem. I forwarded my phone to Eva's so call or text anytime."
After all these years she shouldn't recognize the forced casualness in his tone. She lets herself wonder where Logan is and what he's doing - obviously he's told his girlfriend about Gai or he wouldn't chance Veronica calling back on a phone Eva could answer.
Well, Echolls, what's your disclosure policy these day? Did you tell her about the kiss, too?
Veronica leans her head back against the seat and sighs heavily. As if she has any room to think snarky thoughts. Two days into this and Logan has already given up his biggest secret while she still hasn't told Gai anything. She meant to, last night. Then he came home from school and complained he had both a large project due today and a big math test. By the time he put away the books he was exhausted and went straight to bed. Tonight, though. She can't keep putting it off.
Another car pulls out of the employee lot of Shelley, Barnett, Rublin and Sanchez Attorneys-at-Law, and she jots down the plate number. This would all be much easier if the payroll tax records gave information on temps or unpaid interns. Jennifer Weston's mother just had to hire one of the bigger law firms in town for her daughter's defense, dammit.
Three cars line up to pull into the lot and Veronica curses when she misses one of the plates; they're too close together.
During a lull she wishes for Sam. Not because he'd know better how to handle things with Gai and Logan, but because she and Gai's temperaments are too similar. Sam had a way of smoothing out their roughest moments.
Logan's offer to come earlier is a nice gesture and she understands the desire behind it. He'd been so eager to meet Gai it had taken everything she had to delay things until Saturday. Her fingers run over the cell number saved under Logan's name.
Veronica looks up and sees a car poised to enter the street. She throws her phone on the seat and jots down the plate number.
5:00pm – Beverly Hills Hotel
Logan
"Again, Daddy! Again!" The little boy cuts through the water with the skill of an eel and grabs onto his father with both hands. The man obligingly picks him up and gives him a heart-stopping toss into the deep end of the pool.
Logan's watched this action a dozen times now every one of them has tightened his fists. The kid is so small and light in the man's hands; it seems wrong to treat him so roughly. Yet what would he know? He can't recall ever holding a child of three? Four? Or any other age. He never cared to, either.
Today he has the strangest yen to lift that little boy up himself, which is a good sign he should get out of the sun. Damn the stitches that keep him relegated to a lounge chair while Eva swims.
He glances at the water; Eva's barely come up for air since they got here. He can see her now, streaking from one end of the pool to the other. She makes three passes before breaking the surface and going down again. No surprise – he's timed her before and she can hold her breath for almost four minutes. Especially in a tame pool compared to the tide she's used to swimming against.
"Three last things, buddy," the father says as little arms snake around his neck.
The kids whines a grating, "Nooo."
"Yep. It's almost dinner time."
"I'm not hungry."
The dad scoops up the boy and places his mouth over the tiny belly. "Well I am. If we don't go soon I'm gonna have to eat you."
"Daddy!" the kid screams with laughter and kicks his feet as the father playfully gnaws at his stomach. "Stop, daddy, stop!"
Logan's sure everyone is as relieved as he is when the dad does stop. The high-pitched squealing is almost as bad as the repeated, "Again, Daddy!" He'd swear if they recorded that and put it on a loop, it could be used as a torture technique at Guantanamo.
You're so full of shit your eyes are gonna turn brown… oh, wait.
Are you not hearing this?
Nope. Kind of hard to over the sound of you lying to yourself.
Eva's headed toward his end. He slips the phone off his lap and into his pocket, then plops his ass down at the edge of the pool so his legs are directly in her path. He waves them until she surfaces in front of him. "Hey, sweetheart. How're you liking the music?"
"This is maybe my favorite thing in California," she laughs.
Logan laughs with her. Only in Los Angeles would a posh hotel blast movie soundtracks underwater. "I'm heading over to the gift shop for something to read. You want me to pick you up anything?"
"Hawaianas. Cualquier color va a estar bien."
"Hawaianas." He lifts a wet lock of hair off her cheek. "You know, they're called flip flops here."
The amusement that lifts the corner of her lip makes Logan reconsidering the term and chuckle. "I think we can agree to call them hawaianas."
She grabs onto his legs and he holds them out so she can float while they talk. "Does Veronica call?"
The sound of a big splash is, predictably, followed with, "Again, Daddy! Again!"
Logan senses a twitch by his eye. He forces his lips into something he hopes resembles a smile. "No. I'll drop off your hawaianas and then head back to the room, if you don't mind. I've had enough of the pool."
The dad reminds the boy he gets only two more 'last things' and the kid does handstands instead of being thrown. Thank bejesus - handstands are quiet.
Eva's frown erases the relaxed happiness she had a moment before. "I will come with you."
Ten seconds. Eleven. How long can a kid that age hold his breath?
"Malachy."
"Huh? Oh, um, no. Enjoy yourself and I'll figure out something fun for us to do tonight."
Sixteen. Seventeen.
Her chin comes to rest between his knees as her stare fixes on him. "I can say something?"
"Says everyone before they bring down the hammer." The boy surfaces and Logan takes a breath along with him. "What?"
"At home you are like un gato. When you are not surfing you are relajadito, even when you are awake. Always I must ask you to take me dancing, pero last night you have Jameel take us to club with the latin dances. Then you come at me with the eyes like an animal who is hunting. Today you are frenético.
"I -," he searches his mind for any instance the night before when Eva didn't meet his need with her own. "Last night. We're usually like that when I first get home, aren't we?"
She shakes her head and her eyes fall to his chest. This time when she speaks it's so low he almost can't hear her over the noise of the other guests. "We make love to remember each other, not to forget what life has taken away. Not anymore."
With a thud to his gut Logan knows she's right. By the time they got back to the hotel room after dancing he'd been a toxic mix of exhausted and frantic over thinking what was happening between Veronica and Gai. Powerless to do anything about it he'd put all that energy and frustration toward Eva.
"I'm sorry. It'll be better after I talk to Veronica. Or Saturday when I meet Gai and know where I stand. I promise not to use you like that again."
"Do not make me this promise because I cannot return it."
If the line came from anyone else, he'd consider it sexual repartee and tell her she can use him anytime, anyway she wants. From Eva it's delivered with her stock gravitas. "Why not?"
"Because last night I am using you, too." She stands and pushes his knees apart so she can fit between them. "Malachy, I am doing the best. However, I am also in grief."
"You? Why?"
The cool wetness of her palms line his jaw and she treats him to chlorinated kiss. "Until now I only have to share you with memories."
6pm
Veronica
By the time Veronica finishes her stakeout, goes home, and transcribes her notes into something usable, it's time to leave. Usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays Gai goes to his grandparents for sax lessons and dinner and they drop him off afterward. Tonight, however, is their monthly family dinner.
Joy oh fucking joy.
Poor Keller got stuck with Lois for two weeks. Veronica should leave her at home, yet instead clips on the leash; given the way she and Lois left things she needs a little solidarity. "Let's go, girl," she whispers as she pets the dog behind her ear. "You do that thing where you lay your head in my lap when I get mad, and later I'll give you two Beggin' Strips."
Three if you keep Gai calm when we get home and I tell him about Logan.
Keller wags her tail and rubs herself against Veronica's leg on their way out the door. Sometimes she thinks the dog understands human speech. A half hour later, as Lois starts in on her, she'd almost swear it.
"So, Veronica. Did Gai tell you he got an A on his science exam while you were gone," Lois asks.
"I understand you guys made up a song about the periodic table." Veronica winks at Gai. "He played it for me."
Lois passes her the platter of the (same damn meal every time) pot roast. "Well, it seemed to help. I honestly don't understand how schools pile on so much homework these days. Especially in the advanced classes. Children who don't have a grownup around to help them must have the hardest time."
Veronica can't stop her leg from jouncing until Keller's head weighs it down. "I guess so. Gai's lucky to have the three of us then, isn't he?"
Sam's dad, Giv, methodically cuts up his meat. He's an older, weathered version of Sam; his skin is a few shades deeper and his brows bushier, however the light blue eyes are exactly the same. Giv's nose even has Sam's convex slope, albeit with the growth of an older man. It's easy to imagine black hair over the gray, and smooth skin over the wrinkles. Even their mouth quirks on the same side when amused.
"Papa Keith, too," Gai offers. "He helped me on a paper I had to write about Hoover."
"When did you have to write that?" Veronica studies the knife in her hand. The blade looks sharp enough to cut out her own tongue – just punishment for giving Lois even the slightest opening for criticism.
Gai shrugs and stuffs a double-size bite of roast in his mouth, then talks around it. "Lass week."
"Chew, swallow, then speak," Veronica reminds him.
"Hey," Giv offers, "I bet the guy who invented the Heimlich maneuver got a lot of pats on the back."
Lois' sigh of disapproval underwrites the laughter of the other three. "Gai, I've told you before. Do whatever you like at home, but in my house you'll use manners. Don't talk with your mouth full and get your elbows off the table."
"Sorry." Gai complies, unconcerned; he's used to the way Lois hands out orders and reproach the way other grandmothers do candy. It's less than ten seconds before he forgets and rests an elbow on the table again.
While Gai may not care, the blatant implication that Veronica doesn't enforce table manners at home rankles her. Keller's furry head moves a little farther up her leg and she turns to Giv. He's wearing a celebratory 'We're Number Two!' t-shirt, ordered when he found out his portable toilet business was the second largest in San Diego. "So, how's work these days?"
"Same shit, different day," he quips, getting a smile from everyone except Lois.
"Really, Giv. That joke is as old as you are," Lois sighs.
Giv leans across the table, clasps her hand and brings it to his lips. "Lois, have I told you how pretty you look today?"
The pale cheeks of the older woman fill with color, and her eyes drop to her lap. Giv winks at Gai, "Not so old I can't still make your grandmother blush, eh?"
The way Lois keeps her hand in Giv's and smiles flirtatiously, Veronica could almost like her. Until she catches Veronica reach down to pet Keller. "Is that dog under my table again?"
"She gets confused when there's a lot of people or we're not at home. It calms her to stay close."
"Mmm hmph. Well, as long as you're not feeding her people food."
Yes, Endora. Teach me, o wise one. "I fed her before we came."
The phone in Veronica's pocket vibrates with a call and sneaks a peek the screen.
INCOMING CALL: No Name. Again a Los Angeles area code.
Shit, Logan. I didn't call him back. "Excuse me, I have to take this." Veronica goes into the kitchen, closing the door on Lois' glare. She could let the call go to voice mail but any reason to leave the table is welcome.
"This is Veronica."
"Veronica, good. Shelby Tannen with the L.A. Times. I'm writing an article –"
"How did you get this number?" Veronica's grip on the phone tightens. So much for putting our cells under Dick's plan.
She turns around and sees Gai standing there, the door swinging shut behind him. He shoots her a worried look as he grabs the milk out of the fridge.
"Friend of a friend. There's been allegations of guards abusing prisoners, especially those convicted of violence against cops. What's your response to the rumors of retaliation against Jennifer Weston?"
Instead of going back to the dining room her nosy kid puts his empty glass on the counter and fills it up. Slowly.
"I have no response to that. Don't call again." Veronica tosses the phone on the counter and ignores it when it rings again. "Gai, you know not to answer any call from a number you don't recognize, right?"
He rolls his eyes, "Like you guys haven't told me a thousand times. Who was that?"
Veronica would lie if she hadn't seen his browser history and alerts. Odds are he'll read the article before she does. "Reporter."
He frowns as he puts the milk away. "What do they want?"
They're interrupted by Giv walking into the kitchen to scoop up the salt shaker, Lois at his heels.
"No, no salt Giv. The doctor said-" Her voice trails off as she stares between Gai and Veronica. "What's going on?"
"Some reporter called mom."
Lois' hand reaches behind her on the counter. Giv lets go of the salt shaker to twine his fingers with hers while they wait for Veronica's answer.
Never. This will never be over. "She was calling about Jennifer Weston, the woman convicted-" Veronica can't bring herself to say the words.
Before Giv and Lois can say anything, Gai barks, "I know who she is." It's been a long running joke in the family that Gai is part old man. This time he really looks it - his face is hardened with a level of bitterness and rage most people take decades to earn. "What about her?"
Three people wait on Veronica's answer. Somehow it's always she who is the bearer of bad tidings, yet, somehow, it doesn't get easier. "Um, apparently the guards aren't treating her well. It's… there's not a lot of sympathy for—"
"Cop killers." Gai spits out. "Good. I hope she's fucking miserable."
"Gaius Keith Zare!" Lois gasps. "Now young man, I know—"
"Lois, stop." Veronica moves to put her body between Gai and his grandmother. She can hear the sounds of Giv taking Lois to another room under protest.
None of the threadbare reassurances, platitudes and lies will help. She promised herself months ago she'd stop trying. "Gai don't. Don't hate her."
"What else am I supposed to do?"
Don't turn into me. For years rage and anger fueled her quest to find justice, even long after Aaron Echolls was dead. She wants more for her son.
"Listen to me. She confessed and will spend the rest of her life in prison."
"So?"
"So it's over." Veronica moves closer and lowers her voice to a half-whisper. "Think about your dad. The kind of person he was. What did he always say about hate?"
Gai's chin quivers and his eyes slide away from hers. "That it keeps you small and stuck."
"Yep, and that's why sometimes you need to let it go to move forward. Hating Jennifer Weston won't bring your dad back."
His eyes move back to hers, harder this time. "You're telling me you don't hate her?"
People always talk about the thin line between love and hate; Veronica's perfected walking the even thinner line that can exist between a truth and a lie. "Gai, I'm angry at her and it'll take a lot of work before I can move on from that, but I'm doing do my damndest."
See? Not a speck of lie.
"Why?"
She steps forward and takes his face in her hands. His cheeks are hot under her palms. "It's what your dad would have wanted."
Again, all truth. That is exactly what Sam would want.
When his nostrils flare and he gulps in a breath, Veronica pulls Gai against her and holds him close. Soon he yields and his head melts into her shoulder.
For the several minutes they stand there she's not sure he's crying until he pulls away and leaves her shirt wet. "Sorry," he whispers as he backhands his eyes.
"Do you want to go home?"
"Yeah, but Grandma will get mad."
She ruffles his hair and pulls him down to kiss his forehead. "I'll handle your grandma."
Preferably with some zip ties and cement. The laugh she stifles is stress filled as she pushes him toward the door.
Keller is waiting impatiently by the door to the kitchen. Veronica grabs the leash and makes their excuses while Gai heads out to the car with his backpack and saxophone. When Lois' eyes draw up with worry as they follow Gai out the door, Veronica feels a rare kinship with this woman who's supposed to be family.
"He'll be okay, just give him time. Jennifer Weston changing her plea to guilty is still new."
"What about that counselor I recommended," Lois asks. She hugs Giv's waist when he slips his arm around her. "Gai could go back and see her?"
"He spent a month in her office singing '19th Nervous Breakdown'."
"You never told me—"
"She was useless, Lois." Veronica tempers her tone when she sees the concern in Giv's eyes. "It wasn't her fault. Gai didn't do any better with the other two counselors we tried. You know how stubborn he can be."
"Yes, well, it's no secret where he learned that," Lois sighs.
"Thanks."
Lois' brows draw together and she reaches out a hand, just to drop it again before it reaches Veronica. "I was talking about Sam."
"Oh." The weight of Keller pressing against Veronica's leg is a comfort in the awkward silence. "Well, Gai's waiting for me. I'm sorry about dinner."
Giv leans forward and kisses her on the cheek. "Don't even worry about it. Tell Gai we'll see him Tuesday."
"Will do." Veronica smiles at Giv and keeps it on her face as her eyes sweep over Lois, then goes out the door.
Gai slouches in his seat and stares blankly out the window at the moonlit night. All during the ride home he doesn't talk or even play music; Veronica loathes the silence yet she respects the need for it. When she parks in the driveway and he doesn't move to get out of the car, she leans back to wait him out.
"Mom?" he murmurs once the engine has stopped its cooling noises.
"Mmm hmm?"
"I hate walking in the door. 'Cause I know he's not gonna be there."
She studies his profile and strokes the little tuft of hair over his forehead. "Me, too."
"But I don't wanna move. It'd be worse, someplace I couldn't even remember him living."
In every cell of her body Veronica wants to fix this for him. Rewind time and prevent Sam from chasing down Jennifer Weston. Or fast forward to when this loss has faded to an occasional, dull ache. Instead she has to watch her son learn that grief is seldom some catalyst to a heroic act, as the superhero stories would have him believe. Rather it's a constant companion, sometimes sleeping in the backseat and other times riding on your back while you slog through life.
She won't tell him about Logan, not tonight. She can't do that to him.
"How about if I go in first?" she offers. "Turn on all the lights and the TV, and throw some popcorn in the microwave. We can watch 'Iron Man'."
"Okay," he sighs and closes his eyes. "Good."
Veronica leaves Keller with him in the car. By the time Gai comes in the popcorn is done, the movie queued and she's ditched her jeans and bra for yoga pants and an old sweater. She cooks up some hot chocolate as the sweet to the popcorn's salt and calls it dinner.
The film is a digital version of a security blanket for Gai. Before the end credits he's got his head on her shoulder, they're sharing a blanket, and his limbs are loose as a baby's. She has to push him stumbling toward the bathroom to brush his teeth while she cleans up the dishes.
Chores done, Veronica finds him sitting up in the twin bed that's shoved in the far corner, strumming the three-quarter size guitar Sam handed down to him. Gai's not as skilled with the axe as he is with brass, as he puts it, but he can pick out a tune.
The chords and melody are easy to recognize; George Ezra's 'Blind Man in Amsterdam', dubbed by a much younger Gai as the 'boom-di-di' song. It was one of many in the nightly bedtime ritual until a year ago, when Gai claimed he outgrew such things. Though he doesn't sing the words they're clear in Veronica's mind:
He said "when your adventure ends your next one will begin"
"When your adventure ends your next one will begin"
"Remember," Gai asks when he stops strumming. "Dad always said, 'Tell me Old Gai, what's your next adventure?'"
While Veronica takes the guitar and places it in its stand Gai scoots down under the covers. It's silly given he's now officially taller than she, however old habits are still habits so she tucks him in and bends over to rub her nose against his. "I remember. Then you guys would make up stories about being pirates or hang gliding off Mt. Everest."
"Or building a studio where dead musicians could come and record."
She chuckles. "Right. The 'Studio of Dreams'."
"Hey mom?"
Veronica sits down on the bed. "Uh huh?"
"What's your next adventure?"
Landmine. "You first."
Gai snuggles deeper into the bedclothes. "I'm gonna…oh sh-," the way he cuts himself off tells her the edit is only for her benefit, "—oot. I forgot. Mike and his parents have to go to Santa Barbara tomorrow for his grandma's birthday. They said he could bring me and Fish."
"I don't want you missing school." Or Saturday.
"It's just a Field Day and Lydia's still making Mike go for half of it. They're not leaving until noon. I won't miss anything."
Veronica shakes her head. "Gai, I've been gone for two weeks. I wanted to spend time with you this weekend."
"No problem. Mike's dad has to work Saturday afternoon so we're coming right back the next morning. Please mom? His grandma has, like, the trickest house, with a game room and a black-bottom pool and everything. "
She can't say no - it's been forever since he's asked for a sleepover with Mike. Not that long ago she and Sam joked with Mike's parents about their joint custody arrangement; besides Gai spending most days after school at Mike's, the boys alternated weekends between the two houses. They still refer to the other twin bed in Gai's room as Mike's bed.
If he's going with Mike tomorrow she either needs to tell him about Logan now, or put off the dinner.
Cowboy up, Mars.
Her hands shake with the adrenaline flooding her veins; she has to work for a smile. "Trickest house? You've been spending too much time with Uncle Dick. All right, go with Mike and Fish."
"Thanks," he grins.
Breathe. Breathe. You can do this.
"Hey, listen, there's something I need to talk to you about."
"What's up?"
"I've, um," she hesitates. Every debate she's had with herself this past week flies through her head, each ended with Sam's voice: It won't get any easier, babe. "I've got an old friend coming over for dinner Saturday. Someone I want you to meet."
"Who is it?"
"His name is," Veronica pulls in a breath through her teeth, "Logan. I ran into him when I was working that case, on the ship. He's in town for a few days."
"Logan… wasn't he one of the guys in those pictures? The ones you had in your purse?"
"Yes."
"Lilly's date, right? What was he doing on a ship in South America?"
"That's kind of a long story.
"Okay," he yawns, "but he's your friend. Why do I have to be here?"
"Well, he's really coming to meet you."
Confusion furrows his brow. "Me? Why?"
"Because." Keep it simple, remember? "Honey, the thing is, Logan's your biological father."
The emotions that play across Gai's face are as eloquent as those in a silent film. Remembering Wallace's advice to let him feel how he's going to feel, Veronica waits him out. Even when he sits up and scoots so his back is in the corner, his knees hugged to his chest, as far from her as possible.
"How do you know? I mean," his eyes drop from hers as his cheeks turn florid, "I get how it works but I thought you weren't sure who he was. Like maybe it was just some college thing - spring break or something like that."
He thought he resulted from a random hookup? Oh, well done, Veronica. "Gai, I know. I've always known."
"Then why isn't his name on my birth certificate?"
"For good reasons." Foremost that I didn't want you immortalized as Logan Echolls' 'love child' in every rag mag from here to Spain. "First I you to know that you weren't just 'some college thing'. Logan and I were together. We even loved each other, once upon a time."
As if a door closes right in of her, Gai's face shutters of all emotion. "Until you told him you were pregnant and he took off, right?"
"No, baby. He left town before I even knew I was going to have you. Last week was the first I've seen or heard of him in thirteen years."
"Why? I mean," he cuts her off before she can answer. Anger sluices off of him so strongly it fills the air between them. "If you loved each other and all that, why did he even take off? Why didn't you try to find him? I mean, fuck Mom, isn't that what you do?"
The accusation hits with a resounding echo and Veronica does her best not to raise her battlements. "Gai, I want to have this conversation with you. I'll explain everything I can about what happened back then but we don't talk to each other like that."
His eyes fill and he shakes his head, careful not to look at her. "I don't want to hear it," he chokes off as the tears fall, dispelling her defensiveness and leaving only the pain in her chest. "I have a dad. I don't need another one."
"Logan could never replace your dad, Gai. He knows that," Veronica soothes as she reaches for him.
Gai flinches back so hard his head smacks against the wall. "Don't touch me right now."
"We need to talk about –"
"Talk about what? How you lied to me my whole life?"
It's against every instinct to keep her hands clasped in her lap. "I'll own that but at least hear me out."
"No, just get out. I want to be alone."
"Gai—"
"Get out! I said get out!" Like the child he still is, he picks up the pillow and throws it across the room. With his face flooded red and his arms across his chest he reminds her of himself at four.
Against the full force of his glare on her Veronica nods and backs out of the room. The least she can do is given him the time to process. "I love you. I'm here, when you're ready."
In two bounds Gai is off the bed and on the floor in front of her. With all his force he slams the bedroom door and it isn't long until grating thrash metal makes it thrum.
Well, what's your next adventure, Veronica? Because you sure screwed this one up.
11pm
Logan
Eva lounges in the bed beside him; her fingers rub the soft bedclothes. "Always people they are so wonderful, these sheets. I do not like them."
Logan looks around the well-appointed bungalow; perfection reigns in every detail from the marble bathroom to the custom window coverings. Her criticism makes him laugh. "You might be the only person in the world who complains about four million thread count sheets."
"They are too soft, slick like oil. I like them when they are crujiente."
"That explains a lot. Our sheets are like burlap. Burlap dipped in starch."
She glares at him. "If you do not like them, you may sleep on the floor."
"I didn't say I didn't like them." Logan lifts the cover away and leers at her. "But no sheets are much better."
Eva grabs the sheet and pulls it. Logan pulls back and a game of tug-of-war commences that ends with them both laughing, legs tangled, a twelve billion thread count rope twisted around them.
The bottom of his foot runs the length of her leg. "I hate to tell you this but after that waxing and exfoliating, your legs feel like the sheets."
"Eh? Who makes me go to the spa?"
"Hey, I suggested massages, under your edict to relax. You're the one that decided we should go whole hog." They had. Haircuts with deep conditioning treatments, mani-pedis, massages, and facials. Hours of mind-numbing decadence.
Eva's brows draws together. "Hog? There was cerdo in the facials?"
"What? No," Logan laughs and kisses the corner of her mouth. "It means to go for the whole thing."
"Ah, well," she slides off the bed and grabs the hated sheet, wrapping it toga style around her. "I think, porque no? When will I do this again?"
He sits up and watches as she goes to the bathroom and draws a glass of water. "Anytime you want."
"No." She drinks down the glass and fills it again. "The wax, it hurts. Facials and massages? Es super aburrido. I lie for hours and do nothing." Eva's eyes roll as she sits next to him on the bed and hands him the glass of water. "It is worse than shopping."
Spa treatments are boring? Reason four thousand and twenty nine to love you.
Logan drinks the water down, grimacing at the chemical taste. When he scoots over he pulls Eva down on the bed with him. She generously shares the sheet that, he has to admit, is so soft it's cloying. "You don't love shopping. Spas are boring and the sheets are too slick. Other than the pool, is there anything you do like about L.A.?"
"Sí," Her arm reaches and turns out the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. "Your Huntington library. This I love. Paintings for me, books for you, and the beautiful gardens. There I can stay all day."
"Well, m'dear, do you want to go back tomorrow? I'll go nuts if we sit around here waiting for the phone to ring. Or, believe it or not, this cesspool has one two other museums. There's also," he finds her hand and counts off on her fingers, "tourist traps like Universal Studios, Le Brea Tar Pits, or Disneyland."
"I think," she answers slowly, her fingers entwining with his, "these places will be full of children."
"So? We'll practice our mean faces and make them cry if they annoy us."
"So never before do you watch children. Today your eyes cannot leave them, especially the boy at the pool."
Under Eva's scrutiny, even in the dark, lying is useless. "It's Gai. I can't help thinking about him."
"Entiendo." When the silence stretches out with no way to fill it she changes the subject. "Malachy, you are so different here. Yesterday with Trina you are mean and sad. Today in the shops you are so, no sé, taking charge. It makes me think I do not know you."
"The clerk was being a bitch, treating us like tourists. And what about you? I've seen you tear apart a guy who looked at you the wrong way but today you were scared to go into a stupid store. You surprised me, too."
"I am not scared," she protests.
He heightens his voice in mockery, "I have enough clothes for this trip. We only need to go to la lavendería esta noche so I may wash them."
"I am practical, not scared."
"Mmm, hmm." He takes a lock of her hair between his fingers and runs the tip of it over her skin. "Well, practically speaking, I needed the clothes even if you didn't."
"No, I go shopping for you yesterday, when you are at el dentista."
Logan runs his tongue over the temporary crown on his tooth, still not used to it. Trina's dentist did a hell of a job with the color match, though, so you'd have to know to tell it's not real.
"Yeah, but the pants ride up in the crotch and that orange t-shirt doesn't exactly do it for me." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, though she can't see them. "Unless you want to play out a construction worker fantasy?"
Her hand comes up and presses down on his brow. "I know what you are doing."
"I'm trying to figure out why my girlfriend had to be practically bullied into buying some dresses she looks hot in."
She's quiet so long he hooks his leg around hers to remind her he's still waiting. "I do not mind the shopping, pero Rodeo Drive?"
"Better than the clearance rack at Target."
"It is so expensive."
"Exactly, and I was in the mood to spend an obscene amount of money. We're talking really offensive."
Her sigh is weighted. "Never before do you care about spending money. You say money has the taint of evil. Today you wanted to dance with the devil?"
He grins at her rare use of a quote, though given Eva's love for Batman movies it doesn't surprise him. "The devil is dead – both of them. My dad and Gory," he reminds her when she makes a questioning sound. "Using the money doesn't put us at risk anymore. I didn't want to dance with the devils, I wanted to do a jig on their graves."
She lays there, tense and silent. "Eva, is that what was bothering you today? The money?"
"Malachy," she rolls so she can settle her back against his chest. "You have seen my family. We are simple people, not rich. I see Bloomingdales from the car and you ignore me when I say we should go there. It is fancy enough for someone like me."
Logan sets his jaw and breathes through the rush of blood in his ears, angry at the term 'someone like me' and all that implies. And okay, also guilty for the scathing comments he made about the have-nots while growing up. "Someone like you deserves to be dressed in head to toe silk made by your own personal worms. Never let me hear you talk like that again, Carrasco."
Her shoulders shake, though he's not sure whether she's going to laugh or yell at him. "Who is this man? He never before speaks to me like this."
"Keep saying stupid things like that and you'll see a lot more of him."
"Maybe I say this because I am not on steady feet in your world."
"Hey," he shifts them so he's above her. Her breasts press into his chest and reveal her unsteady breath. "Eva, we're still us. It doesn't matter if we're in Chile, California, or Rome."
Her fingers find their way to the back of his neck and play with the little hairs there. "That is what I mean, how big your world is. I understand this for the first time and I am scared."
"It's your world too, regardless if you ever took advantage of it. Eva, we don't have to take it all on at once. Other than hoping we'll have reason to spend a lot of time in San Diego, I'm fine with staying in Chile. In our house. I've been a lot of places and gotta say, nothing even comes close."
The kiss she pulls him down for conveys her relief. They roll over and Logan settles in behind her again, their usual position for sleeping. "Hey," she says, "I am thinking."
"About?"
"My old room, with all your books. Always you say you will put them in good storage, so they will not be ruined."
He, too, has spent this past week considering possibilities for that room. "Yeah, sorry, I keep meaning to. Been busy."
"You say busy, I say lazy. You will be home now. Without all the books, we can paint the walls, make it nice for guests."
"Sure."
"Someday, maybe even Gaius will want to come visit."
Logan closes his eyes over the fear that grips him. "What if he doesn't? Want it, I mean."
"He should know he has a place in your life." Her hand comes back and strokes his cheek. "Sometimes the knowing is enough."
"Thank you," he whispers. Her welcoming a child into their home is an immense emotional leap for her; even her nieces and nephews don't visit.
As they lay there in the quiet of the night, Logan ponders the strength of the woman in his arms, the strength of all the women he's loved, even Lilly. Had his own mom been half as strong his life may have turned out very different. Probably she would have left Aaron the first time he strayed, or at least the second time when he threw her forgiveness in her face.
"Eva, why didn't you tell me before? About Eduardo cheating on you?"
"Why are you asking this?"
Logan runs the tip of his nose over her ear and murmurs, "Just wondering."
She sighs and drops her hand to his hip. "It is so long ago, when me and Eduardo are first married. We were children, ¿cachai?"
"You were both twenty."
"Yes, children, like I say. There is much from that time to forgive, for both of us."
"I'm sorry, about what happened with Veronica on the ship."
"It is okay," Eva yawns and pulls his arm tighter over her chest. His hand cups her breast and he can feel the rise and fall of her chest as she sighs.
He's close to drifting off himself when her words from the other night come back to him. No, I will not be doing this again. Not with a man who is not even my husband.
"Eva?"
Logan's question is met with a light snore. He smiles, resettles his head behind hers, and breathes in the unfamiliar salon shampoo, along with the deeper scent they made together. The one that signifies his only safe harbor this past decade.
Friday, May 15, 3 am
Gai
Thirst pulls Gai out of sleep and he stumbles from his bed for water and aspirin; the stress and heavy music has given him a headache. Some leftover of stubbornness and rebellion keeps him from turning it off.
The door to his parents' room is open and, from the hall light, he can see his mom's not in her bed. Her office is empty and so is the couch, where she sleeps sometimes. Keller lifts her head from her bed and Gai goes over to give her a pet of reassurance.
Once in the kitchen he presses his ear to the door to the garage, listening for the metallic clinks of the weight or the hum of the treadmill. That's when he notices that the old black sweater of his dad's is missing from its hook on the backdoor.
Which means Mom's in the backyard.
To go out to her now, in the middle of the night, means making up, which he's not ready to do. Instead Gai shuts his bedroom door to muffle the music, grabs the blanket off the couch, and settles himself on the kitchen floor. At some point, right before he falls back to sleep, Keller curls up in the hollow behind his legs.
A/N: Once again nevertothethird and ghostcat have come through to help me give this chapter and Eva my best. Thank you lovely ladies for all of your care and attention to this story. It means the world to me.
A/N: I haven't done 'previously on' synopses before but if any of you feel it would be helpful, just let me know. Thank you so much for sticking with this story and, as always, I love to hear your thoughts.