5
Rune Alignment
Chapter 26.
"Well," Gleason took a deep breath and began, "I was born in a commune on a small island between North Ronaldsay and Fair Isle, in the North Sea."
"A commune, you mean hippies?" he asked incredulously.
"They considered themselves . . . artists. And they were, many of them."
"How big was this commune?"
"As I remember, seven women and nine men made up the core group. People came and went over the years. I was seventh of nine children. We had no insular family units; everyone looked after everyone else. None of us children really knew who of the adults were whose parents.
"However, Christian MacNaughton was a big, hulking red-haired giant of a man who seemed to watch over me more than he did the others. I think he may have been my father, the red hair and all. I don't know which woman was my mother. Christian and Nora were devoted, but I never felt anything from her, or the other women."
He stared, trying to process this.
"So, tell me where you were born," she said.
Bobby shared his family's story – his mother's illness, his father's philandering, his father's death a few years ago, his older brother's troubled youth and troubled adulthood.
"How often do you see your mum?"
"Once a week, Carmel Ridge is not far from the city. I call her everyday, well almost everyday. She has good days and not so good days. The staff has done a wonderful job keeping her disease under control. But she's getting older and she's beginning to have other health problems."
It was obvious to Gleason how much Bobby loved his mother. He spoke softly, lovingly about her. His face softened as he shared his mother with her. It was also clear how badly he felt about his father's behavior. She sensed Bobby realized how the circumstances of his mother's illness, that and the responsibilities for two young boys, overwhelmed his father, how that was the reason for his father's conduct, his way of dealing with it. Bobby's distain for his brother was apparent, he spoke briefly and harshly of him. It occurred to Gleason that Bobby was more like their mother and his brother took after their father. She wondered if the possibility of her illness passing to him was a concern to Bobby.
Guido arrived with the wine list. "What does the lady like, red or white?"
Bobby and Gleason both laughed out loud.
Eames and Edward enjoyed their dinner and learned about each other's lives. Eames realized that Edward's glibness hid a damaged upbringing. She also realized how gentle and sweet he could be. He was sensitive to other people's feelings, but sometimes reacted to them inappropriately. His cockiness masked deep-set insecurities. They didn't talk about his relationship with Bobby.
Edward was falling in love with this woman. She was so many things she didn't appear to be. She came from a long line of cops. Her father and brothers, two of them anyway, were cops, big guys, strong guys, respected by other cops. He thought it was a hoot that she became a cop, too. She was petite, but her size belied her physical strength. She was so strong and a hell of a shot, he liked that. On the surface, Alex seemed disaffected by the brutality of their job; but compassion moved her on a deep level. She was smart. She was a superb detective in her own right; she didn't just bask in the successes of her asshole partner.
Bobby and Gleason enjoyed their isalata alla caprese. The wine was perfect.
"Do you have a birth certificate?" Bobby asked
"Our documentation was done when we children were taken into Child Protection."
"What do you mean?"
"The authorities broke up the commune when I was seven. Apparently, one of the men was trading magic mushrooms for marijuana on runs to the mainland. He traded with an undercover officer and got nicked. The authorities arrested all of the adults on charges like delinquent or absent tax assessments, other drug charges. They accused the adults of neglecting us, one man was suspected of abusing a boy."
"Was any of that true?"
"I don't know. I was seven, a kid. I remember Christian screaming for them not to take me away from him. They placed us in Child Protection. I never saw Christian or any of the others again."
She was unbelievingly beautiful. The dim restaurant lighting and candlelight from the table cast glows and shadows that moved along the planes of her face. Tiny curls escaped from the fantastic ring of red hair that wreathed her head. Light caught and curved off those curls like sparks. Her skin was flawless, I don't think she wears make-up, Bobby thought. Her eyes held him. He had noticed that her eyes changed with the colors she wore. Tonight her eyes were the color of dark blueberries, candlelight bounced back from specks of gold. He watched her pulse under the thin skin of her neck. He wanted to suck that pulse.
"I was ROTC in high school and enlisted after graduation. After basic, I served as an MP in Munich. I had a great time, enjoyed the travel and considered re-upping."
"Did you?"
"No, uh, no I didn't." He looked down at the table and kneaded his fingers.
Gleason wanted to ask why, but did not. She wondered if his mother's illness, and his father's and brother's indifference, was a factor.
"So you became a civilian police officer here."
"Actually, I used the GI Bill for four years of college and I graduated with degrees in criminal justice and psychology. Then I entered the academy."
"Two degrees in four years, that's impressive."
"I like to learn. What happened while you were in Child Protection?"
This man is wonderful, she thought. He is so good looking – his eyes . . . dark portals into his being. The way he looks at me, the way his eyes move over my face, my body, his eyes touch my skin, I can feel them slide along me, he makes me feel naked.
She watched his hands as he talked. His hands were puppets that illustrated, indicated, and emphasized his words. They danced in the air with a grace that added an additional layer of meaning to what he said. His fingers were long, with a gentle strength. She had felt his fingers on her face, neck, throat. They were soft yet powerful. Gleason thought back to the time Bobby had rubbed his thumb over her nipple, the shock of pleasure; she had moistened then. She felt that thumb again, and moistened now. She imagined what else he could do with those hands, those fingers. Where he could put them, slide them – do with them. Gleason shifted and her breathing deepened. He put his left hand on her knee and slowly slid upward, taking fabric with it. He heard her breath catch.
"How was your dinner? Is everything to your liking?" Guido asked Sledge and Eames.
"It was wonderful," Sledge told him.
"Will you have dessert this evening? We have a wonderful selection."
Sledge looked across the table, Alex shook her head and said, "I can't eat another thing. Dinner was superb."
"Wonderful, wonderful. Here, let me pour the rest of the wine. It is too good to leave behind."
Guido poured and excused himself.
The server approached and asked Bobby and Gleason if he might remove their plates. Their dinners had more than satisfied.
"Yes, thank you," Bobby said.
Guido arrived after the server left. "Was everything to your liking?"
"Guido, it was over the top. Thank you for making this happen."
"My pleasure my friend. Now, what can I get you?" he clapped his hands together and rubbed them.
"Uh, may I have a cup of tea, chamomile if you have it? Gleason asked.
Guido nodded with a smile and turned to Bobby.
"I'll have black coffee, thanks."
"Coming right up."
The server returned, removed their water glasses, bread plates, cutlery, the butter and everything else but the candle. He whisked the white tablecloth and left.
Bobby reached for her hand. She wished he had reached for her leg again. She watched his thumb stroke the top of her hand. That thumb . . . across her nipple, she felt herself thicken.
"Bobby, can we go home?"
"What's wrong?" he looked alarmed.
"Nothing, nothing . . . I just . . . want to make love to you."