DISTANCE
September, 2004
Donovan and Larkin had barely gotten out of the SUV before the chilly rain began pouring down. By morning, it would more than likely become sleet or snow. Grabbing what they could carry in one trip, both of them dashed onto the covered porch and Larkin waited impatiently while Donovan unlocked the door. If he didn't hurry, she'd surely have pneumonia within the hour. After he fiddled with the door a few moments, they were finally inside. However, it was colder inside than out. Donovan tossed down the bag, opened it quickly, and dug around for the lighter he had brought with him. While Larkin stood in the middle of the room freezing her ass off, Donovan flicked the lighter to begin searching out a few lanterns and kerosene. He knew the family kept plenty of it around as this place was used quite frequently. She shook her ass right off as he moved to check the lanterns for kerosene. Luck was with him. There were several scattered about with more than enough inside to sufficiently light the room. He lit as many as possible and Larkin began to walk around a little. Movement kept her warm, but she also wanted to look around. The inside of the cabin was very small with everything in one large room, like an efficiency apartment. A fireplace nearly dominated a small wall on one side, while a large bed dominated on the other. The appliances were older than she had seen in a while. Her eyes fell on a stove and she looked at Donovan quizzically.
"It's never worked," he commented. "No one has gotten around to furnishing electricity or natural gas."
She grinned a little. The grin was more along the lines of an 'I can't believe you dragged me out into the wilderness' than one of happiness. She watched as Donovan grabbed a lantern to search out wood and kindling. She wrapped her arms around her trembling body and moved around the tiny amount of floor space. There were small framed photos on the hearth of the fireplace. She approached and squinted up at them. She took one down and gazed at it. It was one of Donovan and an older couple. Has to be his parents. He looks just like his mother. She replaced it and took down another. This seemed to be an older photograph, more along the lines of a family portrait. Most of who she assumed were Donovan's siblings resembled their mother. This portrayed a very young Frank Donovan; he was probably no more than twenty. In it, he had shoulder length hair. Oh Jesus. He was a longhair. What a damn switch. She gasped aloud [as if she were caught pilfering] when Donovan entered the room carrying a small box loaded with four or five logs and smaller pieces of wood for kindling.
She replaced the photo. "I'm sorry," she said, her face reddening slightly.
He set down the box and then stood before her. "Don't be. It's okay. This belongs to my family and you don't know much about them. It's normal to be curious." He took her ice-cold hand in his and brought it up to his lips. "Let me get a fire started before your lips turn as blue as your hand," he said with a smile.
While Donovan fought with the fireplace, Larkin made quick work of her damp clothes. She unzipped her bag and was relieved to note that she had grabbed the right one. She dug out her fuzzy robe and slippers and literally threw herself into them. By that time, Donovan had gotten the fire going pretty good. She turned when she heard his slight chuckle. She stuck her tongue out at him and moved quickly over to the source of heat that would be roaring at any moment now.
"Couldn't you have found one a little thicker," he asked amusedly as she sat near him. She showed him her tongue again. When he was satisfied with the progression of the fire, he slid in behind her, enveloping her body with his long legs. She leaned into him and he secured his arms about her. "I can see why you wear this now," he said. "It feels nice."
Don't tell me this distance between us is making him get weird on me. She could sense tentativeness about him, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't quite bring the words to the surface. His hands were warm against her body and she placed hers over his, slipping her fingers between his. Whatever he wanted to say, she wished he would come out with it already. Larkin had no idea why he had chosen this particular place to bring her. For eight months, they had fought to maintain their long distance relationship despite the pitfalls. Every month, they tried to have two weeks together, either she came to him or he to her. It was excruciatingly difficult for Donovan to get the time. However, he somehow managed it on more than one occasion. There were times when neither of them could connect face-to-face, but there were telephones and computers. Praise Jesus for technology. This two-week span found him totally and completely on vacation. He had absolutely insisted and had even arranged for a temporary replacement. He wasn't the only damn agent capable of working with the team. Each of them had something to say to the other, but neither had an idea what it was.
Donovan, you're stupid, stupid, stupid. Don't you think she knows something is on your mind? Why else would you bring her here? He tightened his hold on her body and inhaled her perfume. The separation was getting harder and harder to tolerate, but he held onto it, held onto her. "Better," he whispered huskily, his voice drifting down into her ear. She sighed and muttered a sleepy 'mmm hmm.' If you don't say it now, she's going to fall asleep. Goddamn you, Donovan. You should have done this months ago. He closed his eyes and sighed. It had been quite a while since he had spoken these words and truly meant it. "Selena? Ich liebe Sie," he whispered.
"Frank, what did you say," she asked. Despite the amount of time she had been with him, she had never learned to decipher his words when he tripped into German. She often wondered if he did it to toy with her [in a good way].
"I love you," he whispered again.
She sighed contentedly, knowing with everything that she had in her that he loved her, but hearing the words was overwhelming. He hadn't ever uttered them in her presence. "I love you, too." Even though she didn't think it was possible at this point, his grip tightened yet more and he leaned his cheek against the side of her head. "I like this place. I'm glad you brought me here."
When he heard her utter the words back to him, he couldn't describe the emotions that swept through him. He felt relief, elation, and horrid nervousness. Suddenly, he felt the desire to tell her more. "It's special to me, it's a place I can come to be myself. I don't have to be a SOG leader or an accountant or an in-between guy between two separate organizations. All I have to be is me; it's whom I want you to know above all else. It's why I wanted to bring you here. I've never brought anyone here, I've never been able to do that."
She wholeheartedly believed that. It wasn't a line of bullshit or his way of manipulating her. He had never, would never do that. "I know a lot about you now, enough where you no longer thoroughly disgust me," she said with a laugh. She could feel him smiling against her. "I have my own big whopping thing to say to you, as if hearing you say you love me wasn't enough. By November, Thanksgiving at the latest, I should have the transfer that I requested. Someone is retiring in November and I'm getting his slot."
A little thrill raced through his soul. "Really?"
She shifted her body just the slightest and he released her. Unceremoniously, she hiked up her fluffy robe and straddled one of his legs. She wanted to see his face on that one. "Really. I've known for a couple of weeks, but I wanted to wait until we were face-to-face again." She leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "I've never known someone who has gone the lengths you have to maintain this relationship, but I've wanted it just as much as you. I love you for your patience, Frank. I love you for that most of all."
He said nothing. Instead, he reached for the sash of her robe and pulled it out of its loose knot. He opened it just enough for it to fall away from her body. She wore only her panties and bra underneath. "I hope you mean what you say about liking this place, because I don't intend for us to leave until the very last day you're with me."
She leaned up to accept his deep kiss. He broke it just moments later and held a steady gaze with her as he unhooked her bra from the front and slipped it off and away from her body. She leaned up again as his lips and tongue touched her throat. His hands moved down her back where they slipped briefly into her panties as he dug his fingers into her buttocks. She threw her head back a little and moaned. Gripping the small of her back with one hand, he lowered her to the floor. Kissing her again, he slid his hand back into her panties and began dragging them down. Within seconds, she was completely nude before him. She went to work undressing him, taking her time, touching while she moved. He didn't make one move to help her, he allowed her to offer her own brand of torture intended specifically for him. Once he was undressed, they kissed again and Larkin molded her body against his, running her fingers over him delicately, but with great urgency. He didn't want to remove her hand, but he also didn't want their lovemaking to end before it began. He moved suddenly and pulled her atop him, her hand falling away naturally. He sat up to meet her and plunged his hands into her hair while his mouth assaulted hers passionately.
"I want you now," she whispered when he released her lips.
"So you'll have me," he said right before he entered her.
Their bodies moved together in a timeless, eternal rhythm. His eyes locked with hers and he realized that she was utterly beautiful as the flames burned on, casting a red glow on her body. God, had he ever felt so strongly about one person like this ever before? He couldn't begin to explain the deep, immediate connection. At the same time, he didn't care if it was ever explained to either of them. When he met his release inside her, he told her he loved her again, and was hard pressed to let her go.
* * *
Larkin was up early. Actually, she couldn't help it. It was damn cold inside. The fire had died out some time in the night and neither of them had the energy to get out of bed to stoke it. The temperature didn't seem to bother Donovan at all; in fact, he seemed to have settled more deeply into the covers. She dressed quickly. Subzero temperatures and naked flesh didn't mesh well. You're exaggerating, Jane. It isn't that cold. When she was sufficiently dressed [a blouse with two sweaters], she peeked out the small window. As she expected, the rain from the night before had changed to snow. There was a light dusting on the hood of the SUV and some had blown onto the porch. Larkin stepped outside to take in the view and it was incredibly glorious. She saw snow capped mountains everywhere, seemingly a lifetime away. At first, she hadn't been so crazy about the idea of coming out here, but now that she had seen the scenery, she was glad. She had seen nothing like this before. The altitude began working on her and she became a little dizzy. She noticed a chair just a few inches from where she stood and she went to it and sat down. She cursed for a bit when her ass made contact with the cold seat. However, she quickly grew accustomed to it. It wasn't quite subzero outside, but cold enough to maintain the overnight snow. She stretched dramatically and rubbed her arms up and down a few times. It was great out here, but not as good as it was inside. Perhaps she could get a fire started. If not, maybe she could persuade Donovan to get it going. She stood up slowly just in case the dizziness struck again and moved back toward the door.
Larkin entered the cabin and saw that Donovan had arisen, donning a pair of pajama bottoms and an opened robe. Completely surprised, she watched as he started coffee [in the electric coffee maker] and she suddenly noticed that the room was warmer than it was when she stepped outside. When he turned to move toward the nonworking natural gas stove, he stopped, noticing her for the first time. "Okay, I thought you said there was no electricity or gas here."
He smiled a little guiltily and shrugged his shoulders. "I lied." He approached her and took her into his embrace. "If I'd have told you about that last night, there would have been no fire built, and I would have had to make love you in a boring old bed. Wasn't it much better before the fireplace?"
"That was a lot of trouble to go to just to tell a girl you love her, just to make love to her. I should cut you off for two weeks for doing that," she said, smiling mischievously.
"I could get to you easily," he countered. "I've done it many times before."
"You do think highly of yourself, don't you," she asked, her smile never faltering.
"There are certain things that I do well, and one of those is steadfast persistence. If you doubt that after all this time, you could try cutting me off, as you say, but I can persuade you to change your mind within hours," he said, deadpanning for all he was worth.
"Well…consider today your first day, Frank." When she tried to pull her body out of his embrace, he held onto her tightly, nearly crushing her to his chest. His hands began to move, and she thought she had an opportunity to escape. However, he had only loosened the embrace to move his hands down to cup her buttocks. "Uh," she sighed. "Okay, okay. You win, I won't cut you off."
He chuckled. "Incredible, a minute and a half. Record time, I think."
* * *
January-September, 2004
Mr. and Mrs. Dotson made Wenda Steen their personal mission. They remained with her through the horror of her hospital stay and the surgeries she had had to repair the damage done to her face. She had been released from the hospital after two months and was taken into the care of the Dotson family. She had no other place to go. Wenda claimed that she remembered nothing before or after the accident. The only thing they knew was that she was completely forlorn regarding her mutilated face. Of course, it wasn't as bad as Wenda would like to believe, but to her it seemed as if the world had ended. The Dotson's set Wenda up in their guest bedroom and made her as comfortable as possible. When the old farts finally left her alone, Grant began to plot out what she would do. First of all, she had to fix her face. She had been told virtually nine dozen times that she would never look the same again. Of course, the surgeries she would need wouldn't be very damn cheap, but there was no way she could live life looking like a hideous monster. The hospital had partially repaired her cheek and had shaped her nose the best way possible, but nothing had covered up the scar. She hated the scar most of all. She had money tucked away, but the thing was, how could she get to it? Although her face was destroyed, someone would probably recognize her, if not her demeanor, posture, and voice. Perhaps if she hung around here long enough, the farts offering shelter would allow her access to a vehicle. She had no desire to stay here, but they had taken her in, as if they felt responsible for her. She liked taking things from people, but she didn't enjoy being treated like an invalid. Sooner or later, this would have to end and end quickly.
By late February, Grant had earned the trust of the Dotson's, and they allowed her to borrow their crappy pickup truck. It smelled of chewing tobacco and dogs. It mattered little to her. After she parked the shitty truck, she never intended to go back again. She would get her money, rent a car, and get where she needed to go. Before she left the area totally, she dyed her hair so that it would match her natural color. Through several underground connections, connections who knew better than to squeal, she was given the names of several surgeons who could restore her face. She chose one who was located in a neutral state between Chicago and D.C. She would remain there for several months until her face had some semblance to normalcy. After that, she would take care of business and eliminate a couple of players. As it was, there were too many on the field. Let's get this shit rolling.
* * *
Another airport, another day, two people avoiding goodbyes. Donovan and Larkin kept telling themselves that it was only two more months. However, they often counted it out to almost the last second. Two months meant sixty days, eight weeks, fourteen hundred and something hours. It was incredibly nerve wracking. Larkin had had the most difficult time leaving the cabin and then leaving for the airport. God. Had she ever thought a man could creep into her life and latch on so quickly? She wondered what would have happened if he hadn't made that 'can I see you' phone call eight months ago. Her friends had told her repeatedly that she loved him so much because he was her first. She doubted that completely. Sure, he was her first, but it wasn't like she had felt her virginity was some sacred cow never to be touched or used. She had zero hang-ups about 'saving herself.' It was horseshit her mother had to endure and she sure as hell hadn't wanted to endure it. Why did she need a reason to be in love with anyone? Did she ever ask her girlfriends why they fell in love with their men? Hell no. She deserved the same respect.
"Selena," Donovan's voice said.
She came out of her daze. "Did you say something, Frank?"
He smiled a little sadly at her. "Ignoring me now? All I said was that your flight is close to being called. I want to do my fade if that's all right."
She nodded with her own sad little smile. "It's okay."
He took her into his arms and held her in a tight, warm embrace, nearly lifting her feet off the floor. His mouth covered hers and his kiss was as passionate as his embrace. Once broken, he laid his hand on her cheek. "I love you, Selena."
Each time he said it, she felt weak in the knees. "I love you, too."
As was custom, neither said goodbye, they simply parted and walked away in different directions.
* * *
Grant stood off to the side as she watched Martel leaving his little girlfriend. If there weren't so many people around, she would have approached the girl right away. Oh well. There was time for that. She wanted to get both of them together if it was possible. However, the little slut was going back to wherever she came. She shook her head a little. She's from D.C. Since the accident, her memory was wonky. Other ideas began to bloom in her head. She smiled a little as she cooked them up. What could she do to harm the girlfriend? She knew everything about Martel's past. However, there had to be something, some little thing that would destroy her. She smiled even wider when it came to her. Perfect. I hope you're ready to lose another woman, Martel.
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To be continued…