Separate Lives
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mainly family and close friends remained in the reception hall. Most of the other guests had taken their cue from the bride and groom and departed shortly after they did. Already missing them, smiling slightly at the sweet memory of their departure and how happy they had looked, Trixie sent a long glance over the large room, taking it all in. It hadn't changed in size or in decoration, and yet now it somehow seemed smaller and less enchanting than it had when the reception first started. The gold of the ribbons seemed duller. The flowers weren't quite as lively or lovely. A few blooms were wilting and some petals now marred the ivory tablecloths. Gentle flames still flickered but had melted a good portion of each and every candle. The band played softer, less jumpier music. A few employees of the country club were beginning to quietly and efficiently clean up the tables on the outskirts of the room. She sighed to herself, a quiet, almost lost sound. Truly, the magic of the night must have resided with the presence of a deliriously jubilant Honey and Brian. No question about it. It wasn't the same without them.
Now that the most exciting parts of the day were finished and the time to leave for home was rapidly approaching, Di's body was crying out for some much-needed rest. Gratefully, she lowered herself down onto one of the chairs, thankful for the comfort of the soft padding, and didn't waste a second before swiftly slipping off her high heels. Her feet immediately groaned in response, freed from their captivity to fashion. Arching an eyebrow, she considered her husband who was off talking with his parents, most likely setting up a time for tomorrow's breakfast. A cunning smile curved her lips. He didn't know it yet but he was going to give her feet the best darn foot rub ever when they got home. Pleased with her decision, she nodded her head and focused on Trixie. "Are you sorry you didn't catch the bouquet?" she inquired, her face a portrait in innocence.
"Diana Belden! What kind of question is that?" Trixie chastised tartly, crinkling her nose at her giggling sister-in-law. Because she needed to do something, Trixie absently played with an unused linen napkin, folding it into tiny squares. During the bridal bouquet toss, she had intentionally kept to the background, having absolutely no desire to catch the darn thing. "I think the right person caught it." She gestured towards a beaming Whitney who had her face buried in the fragrant blossoms of the pretty toss bouquet. Honey had kept the real deal. In fact, her mother was in possession of the gorgeous creation, having promised the bride she would start drying it out the second she got home so Honey would have it preserved forever. "Your sister loves it."
"And Bobby loves the fact that he caught the garter." Di covered her mouth, violet eyes dancing mischievously. The youngest Belden had taken some serious heat from the male Bob-Whites, most noticeably Mart and Dan, but had shaken it off with an aura of unconcern since he had earned the pleasure of slipping it onto his girlfriend's leg. "However, I don't think our parents were ecstatic that they were the matching pair. They would have preferred another couple."
"You're right about that." Both sets of parents had worn identical shades of disbelief and an oh-my-goodness, my youngest couldn't already be thinking about getting married kind expression on their collective faces. Remembering it made Trixie laugh. Out of all of them, Mr. Lynch had been the most priceless. She had almost seen the price tags of yet another wedding flashing before his startled eyes.
Di dropped her chin into her hands. Slow, almost lethargic music filled the air, obviously letting the remaining people know that the reception was on its way to being well and truly over. A few stragglers ignored their pointed meaning and were still out on the dance floor, making the most out of the dwindling time. Di took her eyes off them. Curious, she pointed to the set of car keys at Trixie's elbow. "What are those, Trix?"
"They're Bobby's keys. He wants me to drive his car home," Trixie answered, tapping the key chain. "It got stuck up at Honey's house today during all the pre-wedding activities. You heard about the flower fiasco, right?"
"Oh, did I ever!" Di's lips quivered with barely suppressed mirth. Leaning across the table, she grabbed Trixie's hand and held on. "You should have heard my mother complaining about it earlier. She wasn't happy with Larry or Terry about that at all. They're lucky your mother was able to fix the problem so quickly. Otherwise…" Grinning, she made a slicing motion across her neck.
"I can imagine." Trixie chuckled again. Mrs. Lynch could be as formidable as Honey's mother when it came to societal functions. She'd heard enough stories over the years from both of her friends. She would have been very, very displeased with her sons for creating unnecessary havoc on such an important day. "Anyway, Bobby asked me to drive the car home. He's still using my rental, of course. I think he's probably planning on being out late tonight with Whitney."
Di shuddered at the thought of her youngest sister and Trixie's youngest brother hanging out late together. Her face reflected her sisterly horror. She didn't want to know what type of activities would be occupying their time. She'd rather like to imagine that all four of her younger siblings were youngsters instead of legal adults.
Trixie understood the emotions traipsing across her friend's face. "Believe me, I know how you feel," she muttered, wondering how her annoying, curly-haired brother could have grown up so quick. It both amazed and saddened her. While she had been a witness to a good portion of his life, she had been more of a visitor over the past few years. All by her choice, of course. It was stupid to feel recriminations about it now. But that's one thing the sentimentality of weddings allowed for, she thought with a small sigh. An introspective into one's own life choices. She hadn't been as bothered about it at Mart's wedding. This wedding was much different. And that difference lay firmly at Brian's new brother-in-law's door.
"Enough of this!" Di waved an imperious hand, bringing all thoughts of Bobby and Whitney to an end. An idea flittered in her mind, something that needed to be done. She slanted an appraising look Trixie's way and asked hesitatingly, "Well, if you're going back to the Manor House, would you mind doing another favor? This time for me?"
Trixie sat back in her chair, dimples winking in each cheek, lowering her voice so only Di could hear, "For the mother of my little niece or nephew, you'd better believe I'd do it. What do you need my help with, Mrs. Belden?"
"My stuff." Tapping a finger to her forehead, she admitted, rolling her eyes at her carelessness, a trait that seemed to be happening more and more often with her now, "Most importantly, my cell phone. Somehow, I managed to leave it at the house. I think it's in Honey's room. At least I hope it's in Honey's room. I can remember using it when we were getting ready this morning but I can't seem to recall where I put it. I know my overnight bag is still there, though. I can easily do without my bag, of course. But my cell phone…" She ended on a small, self-deprecating sigh.
"Is kind of important," Trixie finished for her and covered Di's hand reassuringly, agreeing to the chore without a second thought. "Don't worry, Di. I'll get it for you. You can pick it up when you come over to the farm tomorrow."
Having finished talking with his parents, Mart sauntered over to the table, whistling under his breath. The second he reached them, he pressed a quick kiss to Di's dark head and rubbed a hand over her back. "What's going on, ladies?" he asked, too tired to think of anything more complicated for his sister to interpret.
"Nothing much." Di gave him a sunny smile, all thoughts of exhaustion fleeing at the sound of his voice. His presence rejuvenated her. She patted a hand on his thigh and said, "Trixie is the best sister ever. She just offered to get my things from Honey's and she's also retrieving Bobby's car, too. Did you leave anything there? I bet she could pick it up for you, too."
"Nope. Everything I used last night is in the trunk of our car," he shared with remarkable good cheer. He had stuffed his clothes that morning, using the patented Belden-let's-just-toss-our-items-into-our-bag favored way of packing. The style worked well for all of the blondes in the family. Brian was the only one who was more meticulous with his things. No one else in their clan put as much detail into it as he did. Knowing Trixie had driven over with his parents, he wondered aloud, "How are you getting there, Trix?"
Trying to keep from laughing, Trixie replied jokingly, hooking a thumb towards Bobby and Whitney, "I suppose I could ask them to drop me off."
"They'd cheerfully kill you if you offered." Di chortled, imagining the looks on their faces if Trixie were to ask them. Bobby would want to wring her neck. Whitney would be more polite, of course, but she wouldn't be all that pleased either.
"True, true," Mart answered, stroking his chin and pretending to ponder the problem. "Well, it would be a little out of our way, since we live in the opposite direction of Glen Road but I suppose we could offer you our form of vehicular transportation this evening." He grunted lowly when Di hit him in the stomach, protesting his less than humble invitation.
"I'll take you up on it." Trixie pushed herself out of her chair and picked up Bobby's keys. "When do you want to leave?"
Di stretched and half-heartedly covered a wide yawn. "I'm starting to feel really tired. I don't know about either of you but I could happily curl up right here and fall right to sleep. I doubt it would take me long at all." Instantly, Mart pressed even closer to her side, ready to make sure that she really was okay.
"It's time to call it an evening." Mart looked down fondly at his wife who was having difficulty disguising another wide yawn.
"I'll go say my farewells." Trixie excused herself, ready to make the rounds. She approached her parents first who were in the middle of reminiscing about the wedding with Madeleine Wheeler and Miss Trask. Two people were noticeably absent from the small group. Matthew Wheeler and Jim were nowhere to be found. Her parents quickly embraced her. Madeleine surprised her by giving her a hug, too. Trixie wanted to ask about Jim's whereabouts but didn't, not with her father standing right next to them. It was on to Dan next who was talking with Mr. Maypenny and Regan. Another round of hugs and she hurried back to an impatiently waiting Mart and sleepy-looking Di.
"All right, slowpoke. It's time to go!" Mart announced, giving a careless wave to the others in the room. Together, the three left the reception hall, with Trixie sending out one last search for the missing Jim who still hadn't appeared. Giving in to the inevitable, she walked behind them and made it to the purple sedan, one of the last few remaining vehicles in the parking lot. Gallantly, Mart opened the door for his wife and hummed lightly as he rounded the hood. Once everyone was settled within, Mart started the car and drove to the Manor House.
Di kept up a steady stream of chatter during the car ride, dreamily recalling the entire wedding from start to finish. Trixie threw in a few comments here and there. Mart didn't say anything, only sent his wife loving looks out of the corner of his eyes. In no time at all they were driving up the steep hill to the Manor House. Trixie watched the building come into view. It loomed ahead, tall, regal, and impressive. A few lights burned, on the porch and inside the house, obviously there to welcome back the family members who resided within. She couldn't help but feel nostalgic herself when the idea that Honey wouldn't ever be calling the place home again hit her. Instead, her friend was now embarking on her first night in her new home, the one she shared with her husband. The Manor House was so quiet, looked so different from the home it had been only a few hours earlier. There wasn't much left to show that a beautiful wedding had taken place, one that would most certainly grace the society pages on the morrow.
After Mart pulled to a stop, Trixie perched on the edge of the seat, a hand at the ready on the door handle. "Thanks for the ride, guys. I appreciate it. What time are you planning on coming over in the morning?"
"As early as possible!" Di sang out, merrily ignoring Mart's loud and rather indignant groan of disappointment.
"Hopefully around nine." Mart arched a look at his wife, hoping he'd be able to sleep in, at least a little. Camping out on the floor of the cabin the night before had been fine, especially since he'd been able to enjoy the company of his brother and his friends. But the thought of his comfortable bed, with his gorgeous wife sleeping in it with him…that alone was pure heaven to him. He wanted to spend as much time as possibly in it. Slyly, giving her the necessary push, he suggested quietly, "A little extra sleep would do all three of us good."
Just like that, Di's face softened and glowed. "The three of us," she breathed out, adoring the description. Reverently, she patted her stomach and the little one growing within.
"Nine o'clock it is, then," Trixie declared, grinning at Mart in the rearview mirror. He knew his wife well. It amused her to know it. "Thanks again for the ride. I'll see you in the morning. I'm helping Moms make the breakfast," she shared, thinking back to their silly bet from the night before. Looking back, she should have known that Jim wouldn't be able to hold out against her father. Peter Belden could be quite intimidating when he chose to be. "And I've already been volunteered for clean-up, too."
"Excellent, squaw." Mart reached back and tugged a curl before Trixie batted his hand away. "You can work while the rest of us sit back and relax. Just like old times, sister dear."
Di chuckled lowly. "Thanks for getting my things, Trix. Everything but my cell phone should be in my overnight bag. Unfortunately, I'm not sure where my cell ended up." She fluttered her hands, laughing a little helplessly at her forgetfulness.
"No need to worry, Di. I'll find it." One shoe touched the blacktop. She climbed out carefully, being sure not to get caught up in the tangle of the long skirt of her dress. Competent hands smoothed it out. "Don't worry. You'll get it back tomorrow."
Mart honked the horn and slowly backed up. Trixie stayed on the pavement and waved good-bye to them. A pair of headlights cutting through the darkness brought a halt to her plans to follow the gravel path to the house. A puzzled frown lined her forehead. Wondering who could be returning home, knowing there were four possible candidates in all, three for the house and one for the apartment, she stepped back onto the grass wet with evening spring dew and waited to see who it was. Craning her neck, she watched as Mart's headlights momentarily caught the vehicle.
An SUV. Only one person here was the proud owner of one. Jim. Shaking her head, causing her curls to bounce, she toed the ground, undecided on how she felt about it. Elated or scared? Relieved or uncomfortable? Her emotions always seem to run such an odd gamut when they were together, especially now, after a week built on their promise of a truce. The week was over. The wedding was finished. It made her wonder what was in store for them next. "I guess I'm getting my wish," she mumbled under her breath. She'd wanted to say good-bye to him at the reception. Now she had her chance. Because she was essentially waiting on the doorstep to his house, Trixie stayed on the edge of the driveway while he parked his car, a small smile on her lips, and feeling more nervous than she had during their one and only dance of the evening.
Gold silhouetted against the deep purple of the night sky drew his immediate attention. He did a double-take, wondering if he was imagining things. After rubbing his eyes to make certain she wasn't a figment of his imagination, he was astonished to discover that she was actually there. Trixie. Waiting on the side of his driveway. Waiting to go into his house. Waiting…for him. Well, he reluctantly admitted to himself, maybe not exactly waiting for him but he decided to not dwell on it. For some unknown reason, she was here, at his house, and they were the only people present. It made up for the disappointment of discovering that she had already left the reception while his father was taking an urgent business call. Moving deliberately slow to mask his true feelings, he closed the car door with infinite care behind him and walked towards her, his hands hanging loose at his sides. A memory of another time when they were at the almost exact same spot flittered around his mind but he resolutely batted it away. That one hadn't ended well. She had stalked back to her house. Worse, he had let her go. Because it was better to leave it in the past, he refused to think about it. Casually, he took off his jacket, laid it over his arm, and approached her. "Hey, Trix. Are you spending the night again?"
A playful question. He asked her a playful question. It startled a low chuckle out of her. "No, not tonight. I'm running a few errands for some members of my growing family." She stopped her intense view of the house and tossed a look his way. The whiteness of his tux stood out against the night. For some reason it made her mouth go dry. Her mind recognized it was because of another spring evening, well in their past, where they had been similarly dressed and managed to find an extremely new and enjoyable way of passing the time together. Her eyebrows snapped together while she pushed aside the memory. Not now, not when they were suddenly and irrevocably alone. Not now, not when the moon bathed them in its soft, luminescent glow. Not now.
Having no clue about the direction of her thoughts or how powerless she was to stop them, Jim offered his lopsided grin. "Who are you helping out?"
She concentrated on breathing and pressed her hands tight against her thighs, finding the whole situation unbelievable. "Di asked me to get her bag," she answered without preamble. Inhaling the cool night air, she continued, the words came pouring out of her mouth, proof to how nervous she was, "She left it here this morning. I also need to find her cell and get my bag, too. You know, from last night. Bobby's car is also here. He gave me his keys because he wants me to drive his car home since he has my car. He's going to be heading back to school early tomorrow morning." She came to a tumbling stop, aware of how insane her explanation sounded, and bit her bottom lip.
One eyebrow cocked high at the tumultuous explosion of words coming his way. It so reminded him of their teenage years together. Excitement or nerves often got the better of her then, too. Hoping to put her at ease, he glanced off towards the lawn. Sure enough, there was one lone car left over from the wedding guests, waiting patiently in the long shadows of the house. He couldn't make out more than the shape of it but it was obviously Bobby's. "What's his car doing here?"
"You haven't heard about the mini-disaster?" Her laugh started to sound normal. Trixie ran a hand over her hair, totally missing out on the way he hungrily followed the motion. Talking about something concrete certainly helped her. "You know his best friends in the entire world, right? They were fooling around and knocked over one of the floral arrangements while we were getting ready for the wedding. Moms volunteered Bobby to run into town quick to get a new arrangement from the florist before the ceremony started. Hence, the leftover car."
Jim's face lit up with humor. "Ah. That explains it. It's a good thing my mother or Miss Trask didn't know about it." He could only imagine how they would have taken the news of a broken arrangement. With the stress of the wedding day, it wouldn't have been a pretty sight. He was thankful Helen Belden had been around to take control of the situation.
"Where are your parents?" Trixie craned her head, glanced down the driveway but no car appeared to suddenly interrupt their time together.
"Still at the country club. My mother wanted to unwind with your mother and Miss Trask. I think they're looking at some of the digital proofs from the photographer already." He shook his head. The women were still glowing from the success of the wedding. The fathers, on the other hand, had taken about as much as they could. When Jim left, both Matthew and Peter had found refuge at the bar where they were most likely commiserating about weddings, their children growing up, and getting older themselves, to the accompaniment of a shot or two of some hard liquor.
She rolled her eyes. Pictures. It seemed she couldn't get away from them. "I have a feeling we're going to be getting lots of emails soon," she remarked dryly, imagining the amount that would soon be crowding her inbox. But she wouldn't want it any other way.
"Just like after Mart's and Di's." Jim agreed although he had a sneaky suspicion he'd enjoy this set of pictures more. This time around he and Trixie were actually in a lot of them together. Better, they would be smiling in them. Because he wanted to touch the curls skimming her shoulders, he fisted his hand at his side. "I think I heard the head photographer promise to email Honey a preview, too."
"We should be able to hear her high-pitched shrieks of delight all the way here from Antigua," Trixie replied, only half-joking. She answered his smile with one of hers. Together, they lapsed into silence.
They stood for a moment, letting the stillness of the night settle around them. Their minds were on similar tracks, of Honey and Brian and the new life they were embarking on together. He cleared his throat, gestured towards the house and invited, "Well, let's start in, Trix. I'll be glad to walk you up to Honey's room."
Surprise danced across her overly expressive face. Dumbly, she nodded her head and slowly followed him inside the house. She told herself she shouldn't be surprised by his offer. After all, his room was directly across the hall from Honey's. The only sound was the crunching of their feet on the gravel, the porch boards creaking underneath, and the natural symphony created by the early spring insects. Trixie waited on the doorstep, lips curving slightly when Jim opened the door for her and motioned her inside the quiet house.
They may not have had that second dance but Jim was pathetically grateful to have a few extra moments alone with her. He automatically reached out, flicked on the light. Millions of threads of light radiated from the chandelier above. Looking back on the day, he realized they had been amazingly lucky. Somehow they had been able to get a significant amount of time together over the day, an amazing feat in itself. Time in Honey's bedroom, more time out on the porch, and now. Alone and together. Their unfinished conversation from earlier floated through his mind, made him curious to further her explanation. Slowing closing the door behind him, making sure to keep it unlocked for his parents' arrival, he tried to come up with a way to introduce it into the conversation. Nothing came to mind; nothing but the direct approach. Clearing his throat, he went with it. After all, it was all he had. "Dan found us at an inopportune time."
"What?" Trixie whirled around, glancing around the room to see if their dark-haired friend was skulking around in the house. Of course he wasn't. Understanding slowly dawned upon her face after his meaning sunk in, to be replaced with a gentle red blush. "Oh! Yes, he did," she murmured, much softer than she had before. She contemplated the floor and briefly wondered why the hell she was able to perform her job above and beyond the normal call of duty and yet, here in Sleepyside, she managed to resort back to her old ways. Every single time. It was extremely disheartening.
He didn't move, stayed right there in the main hall. "You were telling me why you like to pull back from us," he gently reminded her, granting her an assessing look, wondering how she would respond to it. "In fact, I seem to remember you were saying it was easier for you."
Her smile was as transparent as her desire to discontinue the conversation. "Yeah, well, it is," she replied, simply and hoping he would let it end there. Turning on her low heels, she started to the stairs.
With his longer stride he was able to pass her and beat her to the first step. He didn't feel an ounce of triumph as he stepped onto it. The extra height let him stare down at her even more. "Trixie," he said. Only one word, nothing more, nothing less.
"You're not going to let it go," she muttered, not needing a confirming nod from him. Knowing it was useless to resist, she blew out a breath, laid a hand on the knob of the railing, and suddenly found the floor to be of extreme interest. Her voice was whisper-soft. "It is easier for me if I'm more of an observer at times, as you said. I don't always like leaving. If I can hold a little bit of myself back, it makes everything easier all around."
The simple explanation soaked in, gave him more of an insight into her that he hadn't been expecting. His first response, one where he told her to stay, then, and not leave them, wasn't the most acceptable. He didn't have any right to make such a claim to her. Instead, he settled for an equally quiet, "I see."
Enough was enough. She was through with personal introspections, had had more than enough of them over the past week. Trixie cleared her throat, tossed back her head, and ended any further delves into her personal psyche with a wide smile that didn't reach her eyes. "So, should we be heading up to Honey's room or not?"
Just like that, she closed the subject between them. He recognized the tactic. He'd used it often enough himself. What she had given him in a few spoken sentences was more telling than an entire dissertation written by someone else. He'd remember it. "All right," he responded neutrally, willing to give in and let it go. Together, they started up the stairs, both striving hard for some modicum of comfort.
"Let's go." Her answering grin was filled with gratitude since he was willing to leave her answer where it was. Had he decided to pursue it, she didn't know what else she would have added to it. Everything always seemed to be better for her when she was in Sleepyside. Coming home was almost like taking that famed dip in the fountain of youth. Only for her, it didn't give her endless youth. It rejuvenated her spirit. When it came time to leave…it was always difficult, had never become easier even though she had years of practice at it.
They had traveled up and down the stairs together many times in their shared adolescent years. It was a unique feeling, ascending the staircase with the man by her side. Trixie threw a few cautious side glances his way, doing her best to make sure he didn't see them. As they reached the landing, she finally admitted to herself that the week couldn't have been a better one. And leaving this time would be the hardest of all.
Jim led the way down the hall, hoping he was successfully concealing his own interested looks from her sharp eyes. They reached Honey's closed bedroom door. Long fingers expertly turned the doorknob. "Here you go," he whispered and held the door open. Trixie mumbled her thanks and entered the darkened room. Threads of thin moonlight dappled the walls and the floor. She didn't say anything, merely watched as he began to quietly and competently gather the bags for her. Needing something to do besides ogling him at work, she hastily turned away and began blindly searching for the cell phone, thankful for the small chore. It took her mind off the undeniable fact that he was only a few feet away from her.
Jim bent down, picked up the purple bag first and dropped it at the foot of one of the beds. Trixie's followed next where it landed with a small thunk. About to tell her that the bags were ready, he glanced up. Any words were caught in his throat. Standing in a thin shaft of pale light, her face furrowed in concentration, she tempted him without endeavoring to. His jacket dropped from his hands, landed on top of the bed. His mind shut off.
"All right, Di. Where did you put that phone?" A hand on her hip, Trixie surveyed the room, trying desperately to remember where Di could have left her cell phone. Nothing came to mind. The only clear memory she had was of long fingers adeptly assisting her into her dress that morning, in this very room. Her back tingled. Small goose bumps formed. She fleetingly wondered what happened to her wrap. "Maybe I'll get the light," she mumbled, her voice low and embarrassingly raspy, hoping it would do more than help her find the cell phone. Maybe it would help shut down the track her mind was currently on.
The last thing he wanted was light. Not now. He liked the dark, the interplay of light and shadow as it gently fell over her. With the shimmery gold of the dress, the sparkle of sapphire at her ears and neck, he wasn't spoiling the vision she made with anything bright. She was illuminating enough. Luck happened to be with him. His long strides made it to the nightstand and grabbed the small electronic device before she had time to carry out her suggestion. "Here it is," he said, offering it to her with a smugly triumphant grin. It wasn't every day he got what he wanted. He was more than willing to appreciate it.
Smiling her appreciation, Trixie reached for it, still surrounded by the dark. Somewhere in the exchange their fingers brushed against each other. A simple touch, a small gasp of air, and she was defeated. Her breath caught in her throat, her knees threatened to buckle, and the blue darkened to a telling and much deeper cobalt. Stunned by the power of the simple contact of fingers gently scraping each other, she missed the phone. It fell with a loud clunk to the floor. Her stunned gasp of "Gleeps!" was much softer. Getting her favorite expression out proved difficult, much more than it should have been. Her hand dropped uselessly to her side while she prayed the darkness concealed her unquestionable response to him.
Jim was thankful it didn't. He couldn't come up with a single word to say. Not with her mouth open, her eyes centered on him, and the darkness pooling around her like an inviting halo. What was he to do? There wasn't any way he could ignore what he wanted to do, what his body was clamoring for him to finally, finally do. God, it had been too long. Much too long. His mind couldn't conjure up the last time. But his body…it could and it did. It knew what to do. Tentative fingers reached out, skimmed over the smooth, soft skin of her cheek bone. He felt it warm under his touch. All the while he watched her, waiting to see what she would do. Accept or reject. He thought he would die if she rejected him.
Rejection? Not a chance. Trixie's heart was pounding as rapidly as water moving swiftly off a mountain lake. Her chest rose and fell in the rhythm while the ease and comfort she had recently explained to her friends gleefully dissipated into the air, making a travesty of her earlier description. It certainly didn't fit anymore. Nothing between them was simple, could ever be simple. Nothing she was experiencing was easy. And there wasn't a single ounce of comfort residing anywhere around her. Not at this moment, not with him. Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out to wet them, unknowingly bringing his attention from her eyes to that inviting area.
They were alone. Right in the here, right in the now, and right where he wanted them to be. That was all that mattered to him. The separation, the years apart, the pain and the reasons for it, slipped beyond him, well out of reach, out of his mind, to inhabit that amazing resting spot where it simply didn't matter. Maybe it would later but, for now, all that mattered was her. Emerald eyes did nothing more than survey her face, drinking in the heightened coloring of her cheeks. A thumb traced the line of her cheekbone. Amazing him, she seemed as paralyzed by the astonishing moment as he was.
Trixie couldn't guess how long they were frozen, standing, staring, studying each other, with his hand resting against her cheek and a damn arms-length of air between them. How she wished the distance was less but she couldn't move to close it. Her legs wouldn't cooperate, felt as if they would collapse under her if she asked that of them. Almost as if he read her thoughts, he came forward, slowly and deliberately, giving her time to protest if she needed to. She was almost certain that she imagined it, dreamed it or was the victim of a wild, crazy, and absolutely delightful hallucination. But then his mouth was coming steadily closer and his hand was no longer caressing her face. Instead, she felt the firmness of it cupping her bare shoulder. Unaware that she stood on her tiptoes, silently inviting him further, she met his mouth without hesitating or a thought of a single objection. In fact, the second their lips touched, she unconsciously pressed her whole body against the full length of his.
Instant fire. Raging over every part of him. It was so familiar, almost as if the last time he kissed her had been yesterday and not somewhere in the not-forgotten past. He wanted to be gentle, to savor but he couldn't fight the need. It had been too long. His wants had no control over his desire, which was rushing through his blood. Strong, powerful, unquenchable. It made his hands grip her hips a little harder than he intended, made his breath catch almost painfully in his throat, made his mouth slash across hers in an effort to prove how much he wanted, how much he missed, how much she meant to him. Then his tongue dove past willing lips, met and mated with hers, and all thoughts were gone.
Her hands fisted at his sides, in the pure whiteness of his shirt, bunching the smooth material. A small purr of surprise was swallowed while she gave everything over. The inevitable aftermath of their kiss wasn't even an inkling on her horizon. All she could concentrate on was him and the delicious feelings his kiss was creating throughout her. Her eyes wouldn't stay open. She was afraid to open them; afraid that if she did, he would disappear and that it would only be yet another dream in a long chain of them. The touch of his hands gripping her hips helped dispel the fear, made her believe that he was right here, in her arms, and her mouth was busily working under his. Cautiously, she brought a hand up, traveled over the wideness of his back, to end up at his neck, while everything went a brilliantly hazy red behind her eyelids. All the while the kiss went on, with no thoughts of a break, no thoughts of the necessity to breathe, no thoughts of anything except for the darkly decadent passion sparking between them. Nothing was more necessary than the feelings they were experiencing together. Nothing.
Breathing hard, as if he had recently taken up her chosen choice of exercise and finished a long and grueling run, Jim reluctantly lifted his head, stunned that he could still taste her on his lips. He couldn't let go of her. Not when his weakness had been exploited so very, very enjoyably. There they were, in a darkened bedroom, together. His mind shut off minutes ago, maybe even since finding her alone on the front lawn. He didn't know. He definitely didn't care. Since words hadn't been very kind to them over the past few years, either on his side or hers, he pulled her back to him before the necessity for them became a reality. It wasn't much of a sacrifice, truth be told. He needed more of her.
Blue eyes fluttered open, watched the slow descent this time, and darkened with desire. She tightened her hold, felt his fingers leave her hips and move up her back to trace the skin revealed above the dress. She hoped, hoped, hoped he would do more than merely touch that damn zipper he skimmed over. She played with the red hair at the nape of his neck and more than willingly, quite eagerly, opened her mouth to him again. The second time was even more potent than the first. And she watched it all, saw the flush of red stain his cheeks and the intense expression he wore the entire time. It brought back many other, stronger memories, made the yearning for him so hard it nearly hurt.
When they broke apart for the second time, his body was fairly ordering him to do something about the desire that rode him hard, demanding more than yet another passionate embrace with her. At that moment he would have given anything to come up with something charming, funny, or intriguing to say. But he didn't possess a silver tongue and had to rely on his expression to get across everything he wanted to tell her. All he could get past his mouth were two words, simply yet hoarsely and spoken. "My room."
Words weren't part of her arsenal right now, were swimming around in her mind but couldn't be formed by lips numb from him. They weren't necessary, not when she could affirm or deny with a simple motion. She nodded without a second thought, not needing any clarification. He was asking for more than a mere stop by his bedroom. And she was more than ready to go with him. Trixie didn't realize she was still in his arms until they tightened around her in response, clearly reveling in her answer. Carefully, timidly, she lowered her head to his shoulder and let it rest there.
Such a simple gesture. It had more power than a million words. He didn't say anything, merely laid his head on top of the blonde curls. They stood a minute, two against the flickering light of the moon, while their hearts started to pick up on the same rhythm. When he couldn't take it much longer, he grabbed her elbow, began pulling her behind him on the way to his room, his longer stride eating up the carpet. He had the presence of mind to grab his jacket on the way out. He didn't spare a glance at her, knowing if he did they wouldn't make it to the sanctuary of his room. Oh, no. They wouldn't. His control was shot. Instead, he concentrated on the warmth of her skin under his fingertips, her fluttery whispery breaths, and allowed himself to imagine the ecstasy he'd make damn certain they'd find together in his bed.
Trixie couldn't think. She was running entirely on impulse right now. She hurried her steps to match his, trying not to look into anything but the present. Questions, possible regrets, the infamous what happens afterwards were all ruthlessly brushed under the expensive carpeting at their feet. She truly did not care. All that could be cheerfully pushed aside until later…much later, if she had her way. Risking a glance at him, she was taken aback by the amount of stark emotion displayed on his face. He usually wasn't that open with her, or with anyone, she realized on a blinding flash of insight. One thing was extremely clear. He wanted her, possibly as much as she wanted him.
She nearly slammed into him when he stopped suddenly, halfway across the hallway. Staring up at him with wide eyes, she catalogued the newest emotion slowly sweep over his face. Chagrin. Curious, she stared in the direction he appeared to be fascinated with and nearly groaned aloud herself, imagining the same emotion had to be reflected on hers. A set of voices could be heard, coming from the stairway. They were easy enough to identify. Matthew Wheeler's deep baritone voice, followed closely by a low giggle from his wife. Jim dropped his hand from her elbow and turned around to face her. From the closeness of the voices they had maybe a second to prepare before his parents found them.
Whatever he was going to say was interrupted less than a second later. "Madeleine, look who's here!" Matthew called out jovially the second he reached the second floor. The presence of Jim was expected. Trixie, on the other hand, wasn't. Pleased to have her there, the alcohol in his system making him unaware that she really shouldn't be there, he sauntered their way down the hall, missing the passionate cues flying around the two like bright, vibrant red flags. His slightly intoxicated mind only recognized the small smiles on their faces as friendly, not as forced. "It's Trixie. She's come back to visit us. Are you spending the night again?"
She choked on a breath of air. She had been, only with a much different roommate than she had the night before. Her face turned an absolutely furious red. "No, no. I had a few errands to do," she started to explain, not looking at Jim and cringing at the sound of her voice. Thick and foreign-sounding. She hastily cleared her throat and, stepping away from Jim in the hopes that putting some distance between her and the man who had stirred up a powerful desire within her, attempted a laugh that was supposed to be light-hearted. It came out as strangled instead. Clearing her throat again, feeling absolutely mortified, she added, "Di asked me to get her bag and her cell phone. Bobby wants me to get his car."
"Ah. I heard about that." Madeleine's pace was slower than her husband. She joined them, a welcoming smile on her face, but her sharp mind was whirling at a quicker rate of speed than a sports car traveling on the highway. She didn't miss nor miscalculate anything. The flushed looks on their faces, the fact that neither would look at the other, the jacket her son held in front of his body were extremely telling. Mix that in with the almost grim smile on Jim's face and Trixie's odd and obvious nervousness proved to her that something interesting had been going on between the two before their interruption. She was suddenly grateful for her wealth of social graces. Keeping her suspicions from showing, going for light to help the two of them out, she added cheerfully, "Bobby saved the day by getting the new arrangement."
Trixie nodded her head, unable to formulate any kind of a response. Her cheeks felt as if they were blazing, most likely the reddest they had ever been. Even though she was almost twenty-five, it was still pretty damn embarrassing to get caught by the parents of the man you were intending to become more intimate with. In their home, no less. She barely resisted the need to compare the ceiling and the floor. Instead, she forced herself to meet Madeleine's friendly gaze and breathed a silent sigh of relief. It didn't appear that she knew what had transpired between them. "He needs his car because he has to go back to school tomorrow. I'm also picking up a few of Di's things, too."
"I'm happy to say that the demise of the poor flower arrangement was the only mishap of the day." An expert at handling awkward social moments, and this was one of the most awkward ones she had ever had the displeasure of experiencing, Madeleine hoped to get the conversation on a nice, easy path, to help smooth things over for her son and for Trixie. Jim still hadn't spoken, was staring at a fascinating spot on the wall, and Trixie looked as if she wished she could drop off the face of the planet at any particular moment. Her tone gentled even more while Matthew continued to stupidly grin, completely oblivious to it all, "Honey had the time of her life. She's always going to remember her wedding day as one of the happiest of her life."
"She made a beautiful bride," Trixie said into a small moment of silence since someone in their group had to say something and neither of the men jumped in to help out.
"She certainly made me proud! That's quite a sister you've got there, Jim!" Matthew clapped his hand on Jim's back and laughed, a deep booming one that bounced off the wall. Jim managed a small grunt as an answer.
For the first time in her life, Trixie felt like she may actually metaphorically die, only not from curiosity or impatience. The cause of death on her certificate would be listed as mortification. There was nothing quite like it. She never wanted to experience it again. "It was nice to see you," she said into the air, not meeting anyone's eyes, and turned to Honey's room. As much as she hated to do it, there was an errand she needed to finish. "I'm going to get our things now."
"Here. Let me help you, Trixie," Matthew offered gallantly. He merrily threw open the door, flicked on the light, and motioned for her to go in first, throwing a grin over his shoulder at his wife, who merely rolled her eyes behind his back at his continued obtuseness. When he stumbled over the smoothness of the carpet, the doorway rose to help steady him. "Don't worry about it. I'll carry the bags out to the car for you."
Hysterical laughter threatened to overwhelm. Trixie swallowed back the small bubble, choked out an answering, "Okay." Left with no other option, she retraced her steps into the bedroom. She hesitated a moment when she reached the spot where Jim had kissed her. The promise of something more was still there, almost a tangible thing, as if the moonlight had captured it and held on to it. She gritted her teeth against the sweetness of the memory. There wasn't going to be any fulfillment now, not with his parents there. She reached down and picked up the cell phone from where it had fallen during the failed hand-off. "I found Di's cell."
"You're detective instincts are still amazing," Matthew noted, impressed by her quick find. "How you found the cell phone so fastly is beyond me."
Fastly. Realizing Matthew Wheeler's inebriated state was hampering his speech should have made her laugh. Instead, she smiled wanly at him and slipped the object into Di's bag. "Thanks for helping," she whispered quietly since her mother spent countless hours of drumming polite manners into her.
He picked up both bags and strolled back into the hallway, proud of himself when he didn't stumble this time. "I'll be back up in a few minutes, Maddie. I want to load these up for Trixie," he said, his words slightly garbled, and nodded at Jim. "Have a good night, son. See you in late in the morning."
Trixie risked one quick glance at Jim. In that moment, she found the same emotions reflected on his face that were on hers. "Good night," she whispered and, since she couldn't stay without telling his parents why she wanted to, turned on her low heels and followed behind Matthew, murmuring small comments at the appropriate times as he carried on a rambling and disjointed discussion about the wedding mainly by himself.
Madeleine waited until Matthew and Trixie were well out of sight, undecided on the correct path to take with her son. To address it or not to address it. That was her question. Closely, she watched him through thick lashes. The set lines on Jim's face gave her the answer. As much as it pained her mother's heart, she was going to leave it alone. "It shouldn't take them long to get to the car," she declared gently.
"No, it won't." His answer was clipped, purposefully didn't allow for any other form of conversation. Fingers gripped the jacket until the knuckles turned white. Taking such a step forward with Trixie had been gloriously wicked. Having his parents serve as an unknowing barrier to the more was just plain ludicrous. It made him want to bang his head off the wall. There was no guarantee if another chance would ever come their way.
Because he looked absolutely miserable, Madeleine took pity on him, deciding not to make him an unwilling participant in polite conversation. Judging from the look on his face, he didn't need it right now. "Take care, Jim. I'm planning on enjoying a nice leisurely morning tomorrow." She gifted him with a soft, understanding smile before she turned away and walked gracefully down the hallway towards her suite.
His quiet, dark room offered an immediate refuge, practically begged for him to enter it. The door closed behind him, harder than it needed to. He strode towards his window, ripped back the curtain, and watched the sight below him. A goddess in gold was standing with his father, obviously thanking him for his help with the bags. She climbed into the beat-up car, carefully rearranging her skirt as she did so, and closed the door behind her. While he couldn't hear the sound through the thick pane of glass, he was frustrated enough to equate it to the death knell of what should have been transpiring between them and would have been, if not for his parents. Gritting his teeth, he watched the red taillights of Bobby's car disappear down the driveway, didn't move until she was out of reach and gone from his sight.
The curtain fell back. Beyond frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair, making the short red locks stick out in different directions. "I can't exactly call her back now," he grumbled to himself, ignoring his very first thought. "What the hell would I say? The coast is clear? Meet me at the clubhouse? Need you now?" His short bark of laughter held a bitter edge to it. Shaking his head, he cursed the changing course of fate. Somewhere, he knew, someone was laughing at the pair of them. Unfortunately, he truly did need her now. But it wasn't going to happen, not with the fact that their fledgling moment had been unintentionally destroyed.
Needing a distraction of the serious kind, he stomped over to his desk and sat down heavily. After flipping open his laptop and halfheartedly searching through his email from work, he had to admit that there wasn't anything holding his interest right now, not even a message flagged with high importance from their liaison to a company they dealt with in South America. Idly, he picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers, ignoring the computer screen. Burying himself in work was normally a successful way for him to channel any excess energies or thoughts into a more productive venue. Needless to say, it wasn't working right now. He couldn't make himself care. The edges of his chair skidded across the plastic covering protecting the carpet. He jumped out of it and paced around the confines of his room like a lion prowling its cage, almost imagining the walls of his spacious bedroom were beginning to close in on him.
Pacing the confined space didn't help, not when thoughts of a beautiful blonde responding temptingly to his kisses were uppermost in his mind. In fact, it only seemed to make the situation worse. He even picked up his cell phone, called up the cell number Honey had programmed in for him and he'd never been able to delete, and almost, almost, pressed the little green button that would send the call through. He ended up tossing the small inanimate object back on the dresser. Irritated with his inability to focus on anything but her, he aimed an annoyed glare around his room, pointedly ignoring the largest piece of furniture in it. He couldn't look at it without recalling everything that should be happening there right now. His trek brought him back to his desk. "This is driving me crazy," he grumbled under his breath.
Work clearly wasn't a possibility, not with the current state of his mind. Sleep wasn't an option, wasn't anything his revved up body was ready to attempt. Heavily, he sat back down on his desk chair and began rearranging the items on the top. At least it kept him occupied. The first drawer was next. Almost absently, he moved the objects around, making order out of an already established order. It didn't matter to him. All he needed was something to occupy a few minutes of time, no matter how boring or unnecessary the action. The second drawer was next. Without looking into it, he reached in. His fingers skimmed over something soft and…velvety? Wondering what it could be, he pulled it out of the drawer and hit pay dirt. Making love to Trixie was about the furthest thing from his mind. With eyebrows lifted, he flopped back into his chair and hesitantly flipped the box open. A plain and rather simple diamond ring stared back. It sparkled beautifully in the moonlight as if it was delighted to be free from its captivity to breathe fresh air.
Amazingly enough, he had managed to find a distraction that was strong enough to ward off Trixie and the intimate activities they had been so close to participating in together. He stared at the ring as if he had never seen it before. Reverently, he closed the box and placed it on the desktop. The envelope was next. One small word was scrawled across the top. His name. In her rather illegible handwriting. For the first time curiosity gripped him. It suddenly seemed of paramount importance to discover the contents. Inching forward, already losing an inward debate that never had a chance to form, he roughly tore the top off and pulled the lone piece of paper out.
The paper contained many old creases and folds to it, a testament to the fact that it hadn't been an easy one to write. The folds had flattened out but were quite visible, even years after its conception. Tensely, he smoothed the letter out, placed it on his desk, and expelled a large amount of air. It almost felt like a rubber band was attached from shoulder to shoulder, pulling a taut, tense line across his back. Ignoring the stiffness, he flicked on the small desk lamp. The comfortable glow brightened the words. Her words. Her last words to him before she moved away. His heart rate increased while he picked up the letter.
Jim, (the letter ran)
Oh, woe. This is like the seventh time I've tried to write this out to you. Somehow I don't think I'm going to be all that successful this time around, either. I've never been great at putting words down on paper.
There's no easy way to do this so I'm just going to do it. Here goes. I've decided to transfer out to California University. It's a great university out in San Diego. I was offered a full scholarship there a few days ago, and, well, I'm going to take it. It's offered a whole new set of opportunities for me, especially with Honey choosing not to go into criminal justice with me.
To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about this choice. I know I'm acting okay about it but…honestly, I don't know if it's the right choice for me. Yeah, it's a good chance and it's a good change given everything that's happened, I guess, but it's not New York. It's not home. And it's so far away.
Anyway, I'm off to California in the morning. Time will tell if I've made a good choice. My parents are supportive of it. Mart wasn't very happy about it but I think he's come around. Maybe. The rest of the Bob-Whites seem okay with it, too. I think. There's not much I'm certain of at this moment. All I know right now is that the only person who could change my mind is, well, you.
There wasn't a closing, only a hastily scribbled Trixie at the bottom of the page.
The last line leapt off the page at him. All I know right now is that the only person who could change my mind is, well, you. He stared at it, hard. The words danced gleefully before his eyes, ridiculing him, while he looked at the page until the black letters blurred with the plain white background. God, it gnawed away, taking away generous bits of his soul with each bite. She didn't ask him to come after her. She didn't ask him to call her. She didn't even ask him to understand her choice or to forgive her. She didn't ask anything of him at all, not really. It was the unspoken that got to him, that stuck icy little nails into his skin and wouldn't let go.
The note slipped from his fingers, to flutter back to the desk. Feeling more unsettled than before, Jim pushed himself off his chair, stalked over to the window and stared off towards the little hollow where her house was nestled. He lifted his hand, fanned his fingers out against it, and allowed himself the luxury of playing the 'what if' game. What would have happened if he had read the note when Honey first offered it to him, right after he discovered Trixie's change in plans?
To him, the answer was an embarrassing one. He knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, he wouldn't have been able to look into anything else but the overwhelming pain, anger, and desolation her decision to move away caused him. The letter wouldn't have lasted long; would probably have been balled up and thrown out minutes after he read it, an unwilling victim of his own temper, disappointment, and quite shattered heart at what he perceived to be as Trixie's rejection...even though he knew he had played an extremely important part in that choice. In fact, he, and their fights, had to have been the driving force behind it all.
A small inner voice inserted itself, insisted that first reaction would only have been his initial response. It would have lasted maybe a few days, maybe a week; possibly even an entire month because it had hurt so damn much. As he spun away from the window, serious lines of discontent carved into his face, he admitted the whole truth. He wouldn't have been able to ignore her hidden plea. The words alone would have hounded him, day and night, from the very second they'd been unveiled. Come hell or high water, he would have gone to California. And she would have come home. With him. Feeling like the biggest, stupidest fool to ever grace the face of the earth, the sound of a curse word he rarely used fell from his lips, its sound coarse and gravely in the silent room.
Thank you, thank you, and thank you again to my sister, Joyce and Pam! I appreciate your help and input so much!
