They'd made their way to the bed once they'd recovered enough strength and made love again, more slowly this time. Languidly. Refamiliarizing themselves with each others' bodies. When exhaustion finally overcame them they simply held each other, not quite sleeping, each afraid they'd wake to discover the night had been yet another fantasy.
John smiled back at her fingering her hair tenderly. "What are you thanking me for?"
"Well because either there's something wrong with my memory," she said pausing mid-sentence to kiss him lightly on the mouth, "or that was even more incredible than before."
"Yeah?" he asked kissing her back, a little more deeply, letting a hand wander over her bare back. He'd been surviving on fantasies for so long it was hard to believe she was really here. Just a few hours earlier he wouldn't have believed it possible. His mind still couldn't quite process that it had really happened so his hands needed to keep touching her, to feel the warmth of her skin, to assure himself that she was real. But he knew none of his fantasies had ever been that good.
"Mm hmm," she said dipping her head down to nuzzle his neck, "so thank you for letting it happen. Thank you for listening last night and just… being amazing."
"Any time," he breathed into her hair, rolling her over, and pulling gently on her thigh to bring her closer.
"I can't," she moaned softly in his ear but allowed his mouth to wander over the tender skin at the base of her throat a moment longer. Finally she pushed lightly at his chest and said, "No, I'm sorry, I have to go."
He shifted his weight off of her and released his hold but continued to let one hand glide over her body. "Why?"
"It's morning," she said catching his hand and bringing it to her lips.
"The sun's not up yet," he pointed out kissing her again.
"But it will be soon," she said finally convincing herself to sit up. "And if I don't get out of here by then we're going to have to answer a whole bunch of questions. Like why you can never get these off without ripping them," she said picking up a torn black thigh high.
"Well someone was a little impatient last night," he said sitting up himself as Natalie began collecting her clothes.
"I waited nine years," she said stepping into her skirt, "I don't think you can call me impatient."
"Sweater okay?" he asked playfully as she slipped it over her head.
"A little stretched out on the sides," she said running her fingers through her hair to get rid of some of the tangles, "but it was worth it." Then she walked back towards the bed and leaned forward, the low neck of her sweater giving him quite an alluring view, "Happy Thanksgiving by the way," she said kissing him.
It took all of his self-restraint not to pull her back down on the bed with him, "I guess I do have something to be thankful for."
"Yeah," she said straightening, "me too. Listen, I'm gonna be tied up all day with family stuff and I know you're having dinner with Michael and Marcie, but maybe later tonight?"
He nodded, "I'd like to see you." As she sat on the edge of the bed to put on her shoes he said, "Look about everything we said last night-"
"Seriously John," she said cutting him off, "I have to go-"
"I just need to know where this puts us," he pressed.
Ignoring his statement she continued, "I mean, you think it's bad having your mother catch you sneaking back in in the morning, but it's so much worse being caught by your child."
"That happen to you a lot?" he asked before he could remind himself that her personal life over the past years wasn't his business.
She stopped and looked at him. "No," she said softly.
He reached for her hand and pulled her closer to him. "There's something I left out last night," he said. He saw her take a deep breath, realized she was steeling herself for bad news. He pulled her down into his lap so he could look more easily into her eyes. "I never stopped loving you," he said.
Her jaw quivered and she turned her eyes away. "John I-"
"And I guess that statement would make a whole lot more sense if I had told you I loved you back then, and I'm sorry I didn't," he continued brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But you knew. Please tell me you did."
Her eyes fluttered back to his. "Sometimes," she said, "sometimes I thought I was just fooling myself."
"You weren't," he said stroking her hair, "and seeing you… being with you… it's just brought it all back and-"
"I just don't know if that really means anything," she said suddenly. "Things aren't like they were back then. They're a lot more complicated. I'm not sure what one 'I love you' is up against nine years and half the country."
"Well I know it's not gonna be easy but-"
She brought a hand to his lips to stop him from speaking, "John, I can't just think with my heart anymore, okay?"
"Because of Jonas?"
"Because of a lot of things," she said sadly but firmly, "but yeah, because of Jonas. Because it's not just me I'm making these decisions for. And because there are things you don't know."
"Tell me," he said.
She shook her head, "I can't. I have to go." She stood up again and looked around the room, "where's my purse?"
"Natalie," he pleaded, "there's nothing you could tell me that's gonna change the way I feel about you."
Her head snapped back to his. For the first time he noticed a trace of fear in her eyes. "Don't promise that. We both know how much what you don't know can hurt."
He climbed out of bed and stepped into his boxers before crossing to the chair and handing Natalie her purse. "Thank you," she mumbled taking it.
He put a hand on each of her shoulders, "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to push."
"And I didn't mean to snap," she said shaking her head, "I just- I can't really talk about this now. I need to get back and I need coffee in my system." She gave him a weak smile.
"It's okay," he said running one of his hands over her hair. "I'll see you tonight?"
"Yeah," she said her smile broadening though he could see hints of tears in her eyes. She pulled his mouth down to hers and gave him a kiss with just as much intensity, but a slightly different character than their first kiss that night.
"Happy Thanksgiving," he said as they separated.
"Happy Thanksgiving," she echoed as she slipped out the door.
She leaned back against the door as she closed it and took a deep breath. She'd thought she could control the situation, but she should have known she couldn't control John any more than she could control herself around him. Just like him to make everything so difficult; nine years ago any information had to be pried out of him with a crowbar, now he'd totally turned around at the most inconvenient moment.
He sat staring at the door for a moment after she left, trying to wrap his brain around the last several hours. Not even in his fantasies had he dared to hope things would go so well. But had they really? He'd pressed Natalie to discuss where they stood and yet he didn't know what answer he would have given if she'd asked him the same question.
Not that she seemed likely to. As close as she wanted him physically she wanted to keep him at an emotional distance—not that he could blame her. But could he leave it at that? After all these years he'd finally told her he loved her and it hadn't escaped his attention that she hadn't said it back.
But she said she wanted him, and the emphasis she'd placed on that statement convinced him she had been talking about a lot more than one night of sex, no matter how amazing it was. He replayed the conversations they'd had over the past twenty four hours. That morning she'd seemed so open and warm if a bit superficial, on the roof top there had been an urgency in her words and a need to clear the air between them, so why did her attitude shift so dramatically towards avoidance in the morning? What was she hiding?
He scanned through each conversation in his head. Yesterday morning she'd firmly stopped the conversation when he brought up Jonas's father and this morning she'd started looking for her purse when the subject of Jonas came up. Was she specifically keeping him out of the part of her life connected with Jonas or was it some secret about Jonas she was avoiding? It was so disconcerting because for a moment on the roof he'd felt there was nothing closed between them; she hadn't marked any subject off limits. She'd changed the subject quickly after revealing that Cristian had followed her, but it was hardly surprising that she wouldn't want to discuss Cris with him.
He sighed and flopped back on the bed; he would see her again that night, and maybe he'd be able to break through a few of those walls she'd constructed.
His mind had started playing tricks on him again, he thought as he pulled into the parking lot of Michael's apartment building. He was back to seeing her in places where she wasn't. The driver of the green Honda that had pulled out in front of him, for example… for a moment he could have sworn it was her.
He was surprised to find Michael still in the process of buttoning his shirt as he answered the door. "Where's Marcie?" he asked.
"In a cab on the way to the Palace," Michael answered fumbling with a tie, "her flight got delayed so she said she'd meet us there."
"Well we'd better get there then," John said.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready," Michael said grabbing his jacket as he stepped into his shoes, "I just got held up by a call from the hospital. You talked to Natalie since yesterday morning?"
"Yeah," John said trying to hide a smile as they stepped out the door.
"And?" Michael pressed, "How'd it go?"
"Good," John said not looking at his brother as they headed towards the car.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning none of your business," John said opening the car door.
"That good, huh?" Michael said with a smile that indicated he knew just what John meant.
The Palace had redone the floors, John noticed as they walked into the dining room, and he didn't much care for the pale green tile. That was all he had time to process before he was grabbed from behind and a heavily accented voice squealed, "Johnny Mc-B! I heard you were back in town!"
"Hello Roxy," he said with an indulgent smile as she released him.
"Hey Mikey," she said circling around to give Michael an accusing glare, "what's the deal sneaking him into town without letting anyone know?"
"It wasn't my intention, Roxy," Michael said. John gave him a sideways glance; they both knew perfectly well that Michael had specific reasons for keeping his visit quiet.
"Well I was just talking to your beautiful wife over there," she said motioning towards Marcie who was sitting alone a short distance away. She gave them an amused wave. "I thought for a second you were standing her up and I was gonna invite her to eat with us, but she said the two of you were on your way so I think we should just push the tables together and have ourselves a little fivesome, what d'you think?"
"I don't think this is the kind of place where you can do that," Rex said approaching them.
"Of course it is," Roxy said with a flip of her hair, "I'll just go tell the waiters." She started to walk away but paused to slap Rex on the arm, "Where's your mannerisms anyway? Say 'Hello' to Johnny, he ain't been in town for a while."
Rex extended a hand towards John which John shook firmly. "McBain," Rex said. His tone was polite but cold. This could make for an interesting dinner. Michael walked over to greet Marcie leaving John and Rex to stare awkwardly at each other for a moment before Roxy returned with the news that the staff had arranged for them to sit together.
"So does Nattie know you're back?" Roxy asked after they'd all settled around the table.
"She knows," Rex said giving John a meaningful look. He realized immediately that Rex knew everything that had transpired between them. Well that wasn't going to do anything to ease the tension between them.
"Bet she was excited to see ya!" Roxy said elbowing him suggestively.
"Um… John, did you know Roxy owns a second salon now?" Marcie jumped in changing the subject to most everyone's relief.
"It's not just a salon," Roxy said, "it's a full service spa too." She ruffled John's hair all of a sudden, "You should come by—I've been dying to get my hands on this hair for years."
"I'll think about it," John smiled.
"But not tomorrow," she continued, "day after Thanksgiving the kids and grandkids come help me decorate the hotel. It's a tradition. Hey, you wanna see pictures of my little Mohicans? They're the cutest kids in the world!"
"Sure," he said as Roxy was already pulling out a packet of pictures.
The first picture looked like a school photo of a girl about six or seven with curly blond hair and a sly smile. "This is Rex's baby girl Sophie," Roxy explained.
John looked up and met Rex's eyes. "She's cute," he said truthfully.
"Damn straight she is," he replied poking at his potatoes.
"She's a little con artist too," Michael chimed in, "I've seen her in action. It must run in the family."
"She with her mother?" Marcie asked Rex.
Rex nodded. "Yeah, but I get her for Christmas, so, you know, it's okay." No one elaborated on who her mother was or what the situation between her and Rex was, but John thought it better not to ask.
Roxy flipped to the next picture; it was Sophie and Jonas sitting on a couch that John recognized as residing in the living room at Llanfair. "And this is her with her cousin Jonas-" Roxy stopped and looked around nervously. "Was I supposed to talk about him? Does Johnny know that Nat's got a kid?"
"I met him yesterday," John assured her.
Roxy sighed with relief as she flipped to the next photo, "Oh good. I mean, it's not like it's this big secret, I just- y'know some guys get scared off by that kinda thing."
"He seems like a good kid," he said.
"Oh he is," she said, "a little too good I think sometimes, but Nattie just lives for that little boy."
John thought for a moment; he knew what he was about to ask could make the rest of the meal very uncomfortable, but he also realized he'd probably never be as likely to get an honest answer. He decided not to let the opportunity pass. "She ever talk about his father?"
Everyone at the table froze for a moment and he knew he'd entered forbidden territory. Rex finally spoke, "No." When no one else regained their voices he added, "And I'm not saying he doesn't come up in conversation, I'm saying she doesn't talk about him. So don't bug her about it."
"I got a theory about him," Roxy volunteered, "you wanna hear it?"
"He doesn't," Rex said and turning to John he said, "You don't."
Roxy ignored him. "I don't think Nattie knows who that kid's father is."
"What?" Michael asked as Rex rolled his eyes. Clearly Rex had heard this before. John wasn't quite sure whether to be shocked by what Roxy was implying about Natalie's character or to brush it aside.
"I doubt that," Marcie scoffed.
Roxy waved both her hands to stop the others from talking. "Don't think I'm knockin' on the girl, I'm not sayin' what you're hearin'. I don't think she knows who his father is 'cause I don't think she knows who his mother is. I don't think he's her kid. I think he's adopted just like Nattie was."
"Roxy," Rex said pointedly, "Natalie wasn't adopted, she was abducted."
She furrowed her brow, "What's the difference on that again?"
"I don't know, Roxy," Marcie said shaking her head, "Jonas looks an awful lot like Natalie."
"Nah," Roxy said, "he's got her facial expressions, so it's easy to think that, but Rex and Nattie do the same thing and they don't share any generic material."
"Genetic, Roxy," Rex said wearily.
"Whatever," Roxy said rolling her eyes, "Okay, I got another theory-"
"Let's hear it," Michael said smiling, clearly amused by the situation. Rex shot him a 'don't encourage her' look.
Sounding triumphant, as though she knew this theory would convince everyone she said, "The kids secretly like fifteen years old and she had him before she ever came to Llanview."
Everyone stopped and looked at her, Michael laughed out loud. "What?" she protested, "you gotta admit, the kid's tall."
"Yeah but," Marcie giggled, "where was she hiding him all that time?"
"I dunno," Roxy said defensively elbowing Rex, "You're the detective. With a friend, maybe, or his father."
"Roxy," Rex pointed out, "you were around her before she came to Llanview."
"Yeah," she admitted, "but like I would have noticed if she was knocked up. You have no idea how drunk I was most of the time."
"Oh I have a pretty good idea," he said moving her wine glass further away from her.
"Well I'd like to hear any other theories," she said folding her arms on her chest.
Steeling himself for the negative reaction his suggestion would bring John said softly, "She said she met back up with Cristian when she was on the road—any chance Jonas could be his?"
He kept his eyes trained on his plate, not wanting to see the other's faces but he could feel the sudden awkwardness immediately. Finally Michael said, "Well… his eyes are blue."
"So?" he asked.
"Well Cristian's eyes are brown. Carlotta's eyes are brown. I don't know what color her husband's eyes were, but even if they were blue there's only about a twenty-five percent chance Cris and Natalie could have a blue-eyed child. I mean it's possible-"
"You know what," Rex said suddenly and sharply, "it's really none of our business. And if any of you want to know about Natalie's kid you should be talking to Natalie."
Marcie cleared her throat as she changed the subject. "You know what, John? You should keep Michael's car the rest of the time you're here. I don't have to work again until Monday and Michael and I can share a car."
"Are you sure?" John asked, grateful to her both for the offer and for relieving the tension he'd created.
"Yeah," Michael assured him.
The rest of the meal was uneventful and the earlier tension more or less forgotten. As they were leaving Rex grabbed John by the shoulder and pulled him back. "So I talked to her this morning," he said. John nodded cautiously. "I know everything. And to tell you the truth I'm not real happy about it. I'd tell you to stay away from her, but she's a big girl and she'd kick my ass if I did. But be careful with her, McBain."
"I will," he promised.
"She's been through more than you'll ever understand," Rex said with a final warning look as he walked away.
John returned to his hotel room and kicked off his shoes. She'd said she would see him, but they hadn't made any specific plans. He had no way of contacting her and no idea when or if she'd show up. He fell backwards onto the bed. He was tired; he hadn't slept much the night before.
He had started to doze off when he heard a tentative knock at his door. He opened the door to see Natalie holding a bottle of wine and a foil wrapped package. "I brought cookies," she said sounding somewhat self-conscious, "and wine. Can I come in?"
To be continued.