W.W. –very early Sunday morning
"Thanks for the ride, I appreciate you going this far out of your way." Margaret was looking at the foggy drizzle that was still misting down. She pulled her sweater tighter around her.
"It wasn't any trouble, really." Kenny looked at the block of condos and eyed the distance to the doorway from the parking lot. "Are you sure you don't want me to walk you up? You'll freeze in just that sweater."
"I left my jacket at the office, and I was going to have Leo's driver swing us back for it…" She grinned and realized she was rambling.
"So it's my fault for not letting him take you. I have an obligation to see you to the door, now." He slipped out of his camelhair coat and handed it to her. "Here, I'll be fine in this." He wore a cashmere sweater under his suit coat and had been a little too warm with his other jacket on.
She relented and put his coat on. It was warm, and had a certain smell that men's clothes have when they take good care of themselves but aren't too prissy. For just a moment she thought of her father coming home from work and her burying her face in his coat when she hugged him. She found herself blushing.
As they walked towards her building, she looked sideways at him.
"You and Joey were really surprised to see Sam Seaborn, weren't you?"
His expression was guarded. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
She reached over and put a hand on his arm. "It's okay. I don't want to pry. I just thought you should know you're not the only observant person around. And you were really nice to me this week. If you ever want to talk…"
He nodded, and grinned his wry grin at her. "It's not my story to tell. I'm sure you know what's that like, working where you do." He looked at the doorway. "Well, here we are."
"Yes." She looked, and started to take off his coat. She got her keys in her hands and he took the coat as she held it out. Her hand touched hers and she suddenly said, "I have coffee."
"Yes?"
"I could make some. Coffee." She shook her head at her own awkwardness. "Would you like to come up for a cup of coffee before you head home?"
He looked at his watch. 1:15 AM. "It's not actually all that late, is it?"
"I hoped it wasn't. Late." She stood uncertainly with her hand on the door.
"I'd love to come up for a coffee." He smiled at her, and his smile was reflected back at least twofold.
W.W.
Ruth Lyman lay in her lover's arms, her cheek tickled by the curly white hair that covered his broad chest. They'd had a time too busy to speak, and would soon pass into the time where they were too tired and happy to speak. This time, the between time, she remembered from her marriage, was the best time for things which had to be said.
"So, what should I call you?" She hoped her voice didn't sound harsh to his ears, as it did to hers. "I need to know what to call you."
There was a long silence, and she wondered if he had drifted to sleep. It had been an emotional night, and their lovemaking had also not been without passion. Maybe she had waited too long to speak to him.
"So you still need to call me something?" he asked at last, almost tentatively.
"What happened, it happened. Who you are, you are." She shrugged and snuggled against him. "There have been things in the world, evil, unforgivable things. But this? Please! Had they put you in the prison you'd have been out by now, yes?"
"I'll have to tell your Joshua. I'm not supposed to cross the state line."
"Josh knows," she said softly. "He called this week."
He shrugged and squirmed, trying to look her in the eye. She clung to him and he gave up, lying back with a sigh.
"So you knew. And you said nothing."
"It was your story, to tell me in your time. I knew you would. You did."
He held her for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms more than he had enjoyed anything in many years. He finally asked the question he had wanted to ask, been afraid to ask, after he'd told his story and before the lovemaking which had followed.
"So, Ruth, before tonight. Avi Maxwell, did you love him?"
"Yes, I think," she said promptly. "Avi is sweet, and very kind. Avi is a gentleman, and I think he loves me."
"Well that's decided then," he said gruffly. "You call me Avi Maxwell, then."
"Good. Stay tonight, Avi." She closed her eyes. His soft breathing lulled her to sleep.
W.W.
"Abbey? Abbey!"
"What is it, Jed?" She turned on the light, and saw him sitting in the bed looking around.
"Abigail. There you are. I was asleep." He rubbed his eyes and blinked owlishly.
"That's okay, honey. It's still early. Go back to sleep." She kissed his cheek, happy to note no sign of fever.
"Okay, yeah," he said laying back down.
"I love you, Jed," she whispered to his back as he rolled over, already searching for sleep.
W.W.
Jack Moss sat up and looked at the clock. It was almost 5:00 AM, and he had woken from a strange dream, in a strange bed. After a moment, he oriented himself. Annie, her bright orange earplugs visible even in the dark hotel room, was sleeping beside him.
He lay back, and frowned at the ceiling. He hoped that Donna knew what she was doing, leaving the only home she'd known outside of Wisconsin, to follow her man to a whole new city and a whole new life. She was smart, smarter than Jack, probably smarter than her mother. He was glad she was happy.
He rolled over and pressed his back and shoulders back against the comforting warmth of Annie. It hadn't been easy, he and Annie, in their day. But now, looking at Donna, thinking of Isabella and her husband in Eau Claire, Jack figured it was worth it. Ultimately, all any parent wanted was for his kids t have things better than her had done, and he hoped he and Annie had set the bar pretty high for their girls.
He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to find him again.
