Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimer: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Marissa Spencer Randall, and Frank Cooper are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena and Paulina Kundera, Bianca Montgomery, Maggie Stone, Erica Kane, Jackson Montgomery, Alexander Cambias, Jr. and Sr., Zach Slater, and Michael Cambias are owned by All My Children, ABC/Disney.
Rights to the movie Imagine Me & You are owned jointly by BBC Films, Twentieth Century Fox, and Cougar Films, Ltd. The children's book The Mouse and the Motorcycle is copyrighted by HarperCollins. The television and book series
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, AMC, ABC/Disney, BBC Films, HarperCollins, or any other entity. Dialogue in these scenes is original, with the exception of portions of the 6.29.2009 conversation between Natalia and Blake. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Finally, this chapter weaves back and forth between the past and the present, as Olivia, Natalia, and Emma prepare for their trip to Martha's Vineyard, and also during the flight on the Lewis Jet. Additionally, there are a couple of occasions where there are, in essence, flashbacks within flashbacks. As such, I have included dates, times, and locations in an attempt to organize the flow of the scenes, and hopefully, avoid confusion. If ever there is a section that doesn't make sense, please don't hesitate to ask.
Rating: Chapter 9.2 is rated R for coarse language and sexual situations.
Hope you all enjoy the chapter…
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May, 2009
"Honor isn't about making the right choices. It's about dealing with the consequences."
Anonymous
"Wisdom consists of the anticipation of consequences."
Norman Cousins
Chapter 9.2 – When Past and Present Collide:
Friday, April 24, 2009… Martha's Vineyard—8:30 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Collecting her empty coffee mug and newspaper, Lena meticulously arranged the Adirondack chairs around the fire pit before heading toward the back door. Opening the door, she called to Sandy. "Do srodka," she said, instructing the dog to go inside.
Sandy was on her feet and inside the door like a shot. She trotted through the family room, up the step into kitchen, the telltale "click-click-click" of her toenails against the ceramic tile kitchen floor telling Lena it was time for a trim.
Bianca smiled at Lena as she entered the kitchen. "I'll call the groomer's on Monday," she said, reading Lena's mind.
Lena enjoyed a furtive smile. She had long-since stopped wondering how they managed that.
"Good run?" There was a bowl of freshly cut pineapple on the counter, and Bianca was busy folding egg whites into pancake batter.
"Always," Lena answered with a smile. She leaned over, kissing Bianca briefly. "Thank you," she said, lifting the paper and mug. "You spoil me." She set both items on the countertop.
Dropping the spatula against the side of the bowl, Bianca reached over, clutching the front of Lena's sweatshirt in her hand. The action garnered a dimpled grin, as she pulled Lena closer. "Spoiling you is my favorite part of being your wife," she declared, her voice low and sultry.
An eyebrow arched. "Your very favorite part?" Lena suggestively intoned.
Bianca laughed softly, as she wrapped her arms around Lena's neck. "Great sex is all a part of the spoiling process," she grinned.
"If that's the case, I'd like to be spoiled rotten, please," Lena teased.
"I think that could be arranged." Bianca sealed that declaration with a slow, open-mouthed kiss.
Lena exhaled a low groan, as Bianca pressed her against the kitchen counter. Her right hand tangled in raven locks, as her left arm reached around Bianca's waist, pulling her impossibly closer.
They were still lost in their kisses when Lena's mother, Paulina sauntered into the kitchen in search of her morning coffee. "Good morning, my Darlings," she mumbled with a yawn. Her slippered feet shuffled across the floor, as she trekked toward the coffeemaker.
They smiled into their kiss. "Morning, Mama," they said in unison, before breaking apart.
Lena kissed her mother's cheek. "Where's Alexander?" she inquired. Her step-father was usually up early enough to share the morning financials with her. "There's a report in this morning's Journal I'm sure he'll be interested in reading."
"Oh, he'll be along soon," Paulina said, vaguely. Opening the cabinet door to the left of the sink, she retrieved her favorite coffee mug. She lifted the carafe, pouring a cup full of the steaming liquid.
"I picked up another pint of your favorite creamer, Mama," Bianca reported. Switching on the griddle, she returned to the abandoned bowl of pancake batter.
"Thank you, Darling." Paulina pulled a spoon from the drawer, and made her way to the refrigerator.
"You're up rather late this morning, Mama," Lena observed, as she picked up her travel mug, and stepped to the sink. She rinsed it out, before placing it in the dishwasher.
"Sometimes old bones just need a little extra rest," Paulina said, passively. She stirred her coffee, and set the spoon next to the coffeemaker, poised for her next cup.
"Oh, Mama, you're not old," Bianca gently dissented. She glanced at Lena. "Breakfast in thirty minutes."
Lena grinned, and mischievously popped a piece of pineapple into her mouth, moaning her approval of the flavor.
Bianca rolled her eyes, and shook her head, drawing a chuckle from Lena.
"I beg to differ, Darling," Paulina was saying to Bianca. "I may be young-at-heart, but I'm old of body," she said, humorously. Creamer added, she took her coffee to the kitchen table, and settled in with the Arts and Entertainment section of Lena's discarded newspaper. It was time for her dose of morning fluff.
"Are the girls up yet?" Lena snatched another piece of pineapple.
Bianca grinned. "Not a peep."
Ah, perfect," Lena declared. She was glad they were sleeping in, given how late they had been up the previous night. "I need a shower before we eat."
"Yeah, ya do." Bianca teasingly scrunched her nose.
"Hey, now!" Lena playfully swatted her wife's ass, as she feigned protest.
Bianca arched a seductive eyebrow. "You keep doing that, and I might have to join you."
Lena grinned mischievously. "You should join me anyway," she husked.
Breath catching in her chest at the suggestion, Bianca released a soft groan. She tipped her head toward Paulina—a silent message to Lena to mind her manners.
The newspaper crinkled in Paulina's hands. "Don't hesitate on my account," she said, casually. "The girls are down for the count. I'd take advantage, if I were you."
Laughing softly, Bianca blushed slightly.
"It's not like you weren't on your way there when I walked into the room," Paulina reasoned. In the five years she had shared with the two of them, they had never been able to keep their hands off one another.
"I'm in the middle of making breakfast," Bianca contended.
"I'll finish the pancakes," Pauline offered. "No sense in Alexander and I being the only ones to enjoy a little morning delight." She took pleasure in a devilish little grin, shielded by the newspaper.
Lena's mouth dropped open. "Mama!"
Bianca laughed at Lena's reaction. She leaned over, whispering "Now you know how I felt when I heard about my Mom and Uncle Jack." She had been mortified when her best friend Maggie told her about the ruckus coming from Erica and Jack's hotel room the night of her wedding to Lena. She later forgave them, though, when she learned they were celebrating their own engagement.
Tilting the top of her paper downward, Paulina glanced at her daughter over the edge. "What?" She feigned innocence. "I may be old, but I'm not dead yet," she said, understatedly.
Lena groaned, and Bianca laughed.
Paulina smiled fondly at her daughters, as she set her newspaper aside. Walking toward them, she gave Bianca's arm an affectionate squeeze. "Go with your wife," she encouraged. "I'll feed the girls, and keep your breakfast warm for you."
Bianca blushed again. "Thank you, Mama," she said, warmly. She kissed Paulina on the cheek.
"You're welcome, Darling," Paulina replied, turning her attention to their pancakes.
"Come on, you," Bianca practically growled. Her face wore a seductive expression, as she tugged on the sleeve of Lena's sweatshirt.
Amused, Paulina grinned. "Bananas or blueberries on the girls' pancakes?" she called out, as Bianca dragged Lena from the room.
"Bananas are their favorite," Bianca answered. And then Lena was kissing her, as they made their way toward the master bath.
Paulina smiled to herself. It made her heart soar to see how happy her girls were together. There had been a time in Lena's life when Paulina wondered if her daughter would ever know true happiness.
During their years at University, Paulina had thought Lena's friend and classmate Olivia Spencer would be the woman to make her daughter happy. Lena's life had taken such a dark turn in the years just prior to meeting Olivia, and despite anguishing circumstances, Lena seemed to brighten in the young woman's presence. Because of that, Paulina had been fond of Olivia from their first meeting, and was disappointed to realize Lena's friendship with Olivia would remain exactly that: a friendship.
Following University, their respective lives had taken disparate paths; though, they remained in close touch whenever possible. Some of Lena's choices over the years had been questionable, at best; self-destructive, at worst. An alliance with an unscrupulous man named Michael Cambias led to her taking part in criminal acts such as corporate espionage, corporate raiding, securities fraud, blackmail, extortion, grand theft, and countless others; the extent of which, Paulina thankfully would never know. Her daughter's downward spiral had been heartbreaking to witness; especially knowing what a warm and generous young woman she had been before she became ensnared in Michael's twisted web of lies, destruction, deceit, and betrayal.
As a result of her choices, Lena had suffered indescribable consequences. The unholy alliance began with the promise of an education—one from the esteemed Oxford University, in London. Lena had entered the alliance with the hope of making a new life for her mother—one far away from the dangerous political climate in Poland. One where there would never be concern for personal or financial security. And then it had all gone wrong, and Paulina nearly lost her only child.
It had been years before Paulina learned the truth: Lena's choices had been dictated by fear; by threats against Paulina's life. Finally, everything made sense. But her daughter was still struggling. She was lonely, and connected with no one, save her mother and Olivia.
And then Bianca Montgomery entered their lives—a function of one of Michael's schemes. She was Lena's intended mark in an attempted hostile takeover of Enchantment; the corporation owned by Bianca's mother, the illustrious Erica Kane. But the moment Lena met Bianca, everything in her life began to change. While the scheme progressed far enough that Lena risked losing Bianca, ultimately, Bianca had chosen to forgive her the betrayal. And finally, Lena had found her soul mate, and Paulina gained a second daughter. Now, six years later, the two of them were the picture of contentment, with a blissful marriage, two beautiful daughters, and flourishing careers. Paulina couldn't have been happier for them.
Though admittedly surprised to learn of Olivia's involvement with another woman, Paulina was profoundly happy for her, as well. Despite her disappointment regarding the lack of a romantic connection between Olivia and Lena way back when, Paulina had been pleased for Olivia when she learned of the young woman's relationship with Alex Cambias, Jr. He was a good man, much like his father; and irrefutably, the antithesis of his younger brother, Michael. Paulina felt, with absolute certainty, that Olivia's romance with Alex had been what saved her from becoming entangled in Michael's warped schemes. And despite the pain and anguish that followed Alex's untimely death, even when she learned it had all been a ruse, Paulina remained grateful to the man for the choices he had made to protect Olivia.
It had been several years since Paulina had seen Olivia—the last time had been when Olivia sought refuge with Bianca and Lena, just a few weeks after their wedding. Olivia's daughter Emma was barely more than a toddler back then, and given the information Olivia had divulged to her during that visit, she felt immense concern for the safety of both mother and daughter. And grateful to know that all had turned out well, Paulina was very much looking forward to seeing the two of them again.
Friday, April 24, 2009… Lewis Jet—4:15 p.m. Central / 5:15 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Oftentimes, when past and present collide, the future is indelibly changed. And that change is seldom for the better. It was into such a volatile circumstance that Olivia's life had been launched in the moment she learned Alexander Cambias, Jr. was alive.
It had only taken a moment—a brief telephone conversation with Lena early that morning—to set the course for the inevitable collision of her joyous present with her ominous past. The announcement that Alex was anxious to see her had rattled her, in a place so deep that it actually startled her—she hadn't expected such a reaction. But her thoughts had been too focused on Natalia throughout the day, for the reality of seeing Alex again to truly sink in—until a half-hour into their flight, when Natalia asked how she was feeling about their impending reunion.
The innocent inquiry completely derailed Olivia's thoughts concerning Natalia, and forced her focus onto her own past—the choices and associated consequences, the happiness she felt deep down, knowing that he was alive, and the paradoxically unremitting sense of anger she felt toward him for what his choices had cost her. And now, as the engines of the Lewis jet propelled them through the clouds making its way northeast from Springfield to Martha's Vineyard, taking her into ever closer proximity with this inevitable collision, Olivia's thoughts drifted back to the day she finally told someone other than her sister Marissa and Paulina Kundera, the truth about her son…
Wednesday, February 18, 2009… Olivia's Penthouse Suite, the Beacon
There comes a time in life when one must choose to confront the ghosts of past; the ones that threaten to destroy the future. But how does one decide when this time is at hand? Sometimes such determinations come as a result of deliberate inner reflection, sometimes in response to life-changing experiences, whether they be good or bad, and sometimes, it comes from out of nowhere, catching one unawares. For Olivia Spencer, the decision was made in a moment of quiet utterance, and reinforced by the questioning expression in the eyes of the one woman she loved and respected more than anyone in her life…
"You love your girls, and I know you would protect them with your life…"
Averting those probing mahogany eyes, Olivia pulled away from Natalia, and stood up from the sofa. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her trousers, she sighed discontentedly.
She paced the floor for several minutes; Natalia's eyes tracking her every move, as she weighed her words carefully, before responding. And finally, meeting Natalia's gaze, Olivia spoke. "You're right, Natalia… I would protect my girls with my life," she readily conceded. "The problem is… I didn't do the same for my son…"
Natalia just sat there.
Stock still.
Staring at Olivia.
Waiting…
The air hung heavy and thick between them, the only sounds in the room being the syncopated rhythm of their breathing and the droplets of freezing rain, tapping against the windowpanes, as Natalia just stared at her; an amalgamation of confusion, curiosity, and concern registering in those dark expressive eyes.
Nervously, Olivia held Natalia's gaze; the index finger of her right hand tapping frantically against the faint scar that traveled the lush valley between her ample breasts—the scar that signified not only the presence of her borrowed heart, but also the birthing place of her deep and abiding love for the woman whose eyes remained locked on her own.
"Your son…" Natalia parroted; her voice soft and low, as if mulling the notion over in her mind. "Y-you… You… have a son…" she repeated, stumbling over her words, as she attempted to reconcile them with what she knew of Olivia's past.
"Yes…" Olivia quietly confirmed; unconsciously nibbling her lower lip. "I—I had… a son…"
"Had… as in past tense?" Natalia inquired, softly.
Olivia merely nodded her response, as she watched Natalia's body language and the expression in her eyes for any hint of reaction.
Natalia exhaled a heavy sigh; her lungs burning in her chest. "I have… so many questions, Olivia…" She sounded out of breath, as she stated the obvious. She regarded Olivia for a moment; her mouth opening and closing several times, as she chose a question, then changed her mind, and went searching for another.
Olivia halted the attempts at inquiry with the raising of one hand. "I know…" she sighed; lowering her head, as her eyes fluttered shut. "I'm sorry, Natalia… I… I didn't mean to just drop that on you," she quietly apologized; shoving her hands into the pockets of her trousers again. Though she didn't know why, that action always seemed to steady her. "I can only imagine what's going through your head right now, but…" she paused, taking in deep breath then, and looked up, meeting Natalia's gaze, as she continued, "I promise, when I'm finished, you'll have as many answers as I can give you."
She paused for a moment, searching for an appropriate way to word a crucial caveat. "Before I begin, though, I need you to understand that I can't tell you the entire story. Not because I don't trust you—I trust you completely," she was quick to clarify, "but because there are other people involved; people I care about. And I don't want to betray their trust. Can you understand that?" Her tone was tentative, and she prayed that Natalia would be accepting of the limitation.
Natalia nodded her head, indicating acceptance of Olivia's conditions. "I'm listening," she quietly assured, "whenever you're ready…"
Biting her lower lip, Olivia turned toward the window again; staring out across the snow-covered courtyard. "Y'know, until a few hours ago, I actually believed I had done a stellar job of protecting him, but now…" she sighed heavily; closing her eyes to stave off the tears. "If only I had known then what I know now…" The emphasis she placed on "then" and "now" spoke volumes with regard to the weight of the sorrow she carried within her heart.
The utterance of those words provided Natalia with one piece of crucial information: The "past tense" lilt of Olivia's previous statement did not mean that her child was no longer living, which is what she had most feared. But rather, it simply meant that he was not with his mother; a truth which, of course, Natalia was already aware.
Rising from the sofa, she approached Olivia; wrapping her arms around the hotelier from behind. "What is it that you know now, Honey?" she asked, quietly. Her chin came to rest against a strong, but haggard shoulder.
Olivia sank back, allowing her body to lean against Natalia's, as their temples rested together. "That Alex is alive…" she answered; her voice barely a strangled whisper.
"I don't understand, Olivia. What does Alex's death… or non-death, I guess… have to do with protecting your son?" Natalia inquired; gently prodding for more information.
Olivia exhaled a low, caustic laugh. "Absolutely nothing—at least not now." Her head was still spinning with the sheer weight of this news, and the morose implications of the choices she had made all those years ago. Choices that had been made out of fear and desperation, in the wake of Alex's untimely demise. "But seventeen years ago, his death changed my entire world…"
Realization dawned, and Natalia gasped, "Oh, my God. Alex was your Nicky…" she said, quietly. Their earlier conversation came rushing back to her, and the pieces fell into place. Deducting reasoning set in, and she surmised, "He was your son's father…"
Hot tears began a steady cascade down Olivia's cheeks at the utterance of her truth from Natalia's lips. "Yes…" she gulped; her voice a strangled whisper. "If only I had known…" she sobbed. "If I had known he was alive, I—I would have made such different choices…"
"Hey…" Natalia summoned; gently coaxing Olivia to turn in her arms. She tipped Olivia's chin, meeting dark jade, and gently swiped at the tears that fell from therein. "Whatever your choices, I know you made the best ones possible, given the circumstances as you knew them."
Nodding her head absently, Olivia sniffed back tears; but those words were of little comfort, as she collapsed into Natalia's embrace.
Natalia led her away from the window, settling them on the sofa. Gently, she stroked chestnut locks from Olivia's face. "Maybe we could start slowly, y'know. Ease into things," she suggested. "Tell me how you first met Alex," she coaxed.
Again, Olivia sniffed and nodded. "I met Alex when I worked for his father Alexander, at their family Estate," she explained. The fact that she had been a commis, meaning a Chef's apprentice, and then a Sous-Chef, in his kitchen wasn't germane to the conversation. "Lena was actually the reason I landed the job."
She smiled fondly through her tears, as she remembered those early days with Lena, whom she had met during their first year at Oxford. Lena had bounded into class one morning, chattering about an opening for a Chef's apprentice at the Cambias Estate where she was living, and encouraged Olivia to apply. The fact that Olivia was a kitchen hazard, at best, seemed unimportant to her.
Lena Kundera was certain of two things: One, Olivia needed to earn a steady income to cover her tuition, and also be able to send money home to Marissa, who was taking care of their little brother, Sam. And two, she was wildly attracted to Olivia, and the idea of having her under the same roof was quite appealing—a fact that she would reveal to Olivia over a bottle of expensive whiskey one night, after a particularly ugly run-in with Michael Cambias; the man who basically controlled Lena's life. And with those factors in mind, she had waged her battle. "Come on, Spencer," Lena had prodded; refusing to take "no" for an answer. "I know you need the money—and you can save a fortune by not having to live in the dorms. It's the perfect solution."
The perfectly waged argument held water, and so with Olivia's blessing, Lena had turned on the charm, and it was within the course of thirty minutes that, despite any formal training or true interest in the culinary arts whatsoever, Olivia had been offered the position as Chef's apprentice. A twist of fate, or perhaps more appropriately, the machinations of one completely irresistible Hot Polish Fox named Lena Kundera, had forever altered the course of Olivia's life. She would learn at the hands of one of the most renowned Chef's in all of Europe, and fall in love with the man who would father her firstborn son.
"Did she work for him, too?" Natalia was saying, in an attempt to prod her along.
Olivia shook her head back and forth. She looked so vulnerable, like a small child, and Natalia felt an overwhelming need to protect her.
"No… she didn't work for Alexander. She was involved in this jacked up business arrangement with Alex's younger brother, Michael, at the time, but… that's another story," Olivia said, dismissively. "Anyway, Lena and I attended Oxford together. We were on the rowing team, of all things…" She laughed, realizing how strange that seemed to her now. But the laughter was good for her state of mind. "And we collaborated on our Masters' theses, because we were both analyzing the inner workings of Cambias Industries…"
"You, uh… you went to school at Oxford?" Natalia said; attempting to wrap her mind the fact that she was involved with someone who had been schooled at such a prestigious University. "You mean like… London, Oxford?"
Olivia smiled, and exhaled a soft laugh. "Yes, I mean like London, Oxford. The Cambias Estate is near London, and I lived there for several years, working for Alexander while I finished my Bachelors and MBA."
"Wow, I had no idea…" Natalia was clearly impressed.
"It's really not that big a deal," Olivia said, offhandedly.
Natalia tipped Olivia's chin, forcing eye contact. "Well, I think it is," she declared. "But we can debate your brilliance…" she kissed her lightly, "later. Right now, I wanna hear more about Alex."
"Alex was…" Olivia took a moment to mentally classify his meaning in her life, "I guess I would say he was my first love. That fits. Like I said, he was my Nicky. But it was different, in the sense that I wasn't a sixteen-year-old love-struck girl—I was a twenty-one year old woman," she explained. "It sounds almost pathetic, admitting that I didn't experience my first love until I was twenty-one, but…"
"Olivia, it's not—" Natalia attempted to disagree, but Olivia cut her off with a single raised finger.
"Don't. Okay?" Olivia requested. "Please, let me finish."
Natalia nodded her acquiescence.
"But… I didn't trust men. After what happened with Jeffrey, I—I didn't… I didn't know how to act around them. My mother said I asked for it—that the way I looked, the way I dressed and acted, caused Jeffrey to do what he did. So I was afraid to do anything around men, for nearly five years. And then I met Alex, and everything changed…"
Friday, April 24, 2009… Lewis Jet—4:15 p.m. Central / 5:15 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Natalia wasn't concerned about anything happening between Olivia and Alex once they were reunited, because Olivia had more than proven her devotion over the past two months. Rather, her concern was for Olivia, and the added stress their impending reunion might cause Olivia's heart. After all, she had already caused Olivia enough stress, all on her own...
As she cuddled next to Olivia on the jet, Natalia, too, ruminated on the collision of her past and present—the consequences of her choices closing in on her; closing in on them. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to rewind the hands of time… But she was no longer a child. And adults didn't get "do-overs". They simply had to learn to live with the consequences of their choices—disastrous as they may seem. She cursed herself, as she remembered the worrisome tone in Olivia's voice when she returned home from taking Emma to school that morning…
Friday, April 24, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—9:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"Olivia!" Natalia snapped; attempting to corner the hotelier's attention. She tried not to sound angry, but Olivia was ranting. They had been arguing about her concerns regarding Natalia's health since the moment Olivia returned from dropping Emma off at school that morning. She had found Natalia kneeling on the bathroom floor, vomiting.
"No, Natalia. You need to listen to me. You've been exhausted. Listless even. For weeks." She emphasized the expansive length of time, and her concern deepened. "And now you tell me you've been feeling dizzy and faint… I still can't believe you didn't tell me about that before now… I should be pissed at you for not telling me; but right now, I'm too damned busy being worried." She sounded frantic.
"Olivia, I'm not sick," Natalia insisted. "I'm fine!"
"You're not fine, Natalia," Olivia argued. "A woman who's fine, doesn't vomit her guts out before she even has breakfast!"
"If you would just shut up, and listen to me…"
"Oh, what? Now you wanna talk?" Olivia howled. "Now you wanna tell me how shitty you've been feeling?"
Natalia growled in frustration. "You are so damned stubborn sometimes!"
"No more so than you, Sweetheart," Olivia countered. "And I'm not giving in. Not this time," she vehemently declared. "Not when I know there's something wrong."
"There's nothing wrong, Olivia," Natalia maintained, attempting to hold her temper. Wrong wasn't exactly the word she would use, anyway.
"Bullshit," Olivia snapped. "If it were just that you're tired all the time, I would let it go for now. Chalk it up to too many late nights. But you're nauseated this morning; you say you don't have the flu, and you swear you're not nervous about this trip, so what am I supposed to think? Have you been feeling nauseated all this time, too?"
The dearth of response from Natalia provided an answer that Olivia didn't like. "You have—haven't you?" she sighed. "I'm worried sick about you, Natalia, and I think we should go see Rick right now, because I need you, and… I can't bear the thought of anything…" Olivia rambled; tears flooding her eyes.
"Olivia…" Natalia attempted again. Gently, she touched the hotelier's arm; the desperation and fear in her dark eyes willing her to stop. "Look at me… Listen…"
Olivia stopped mid-sentence; fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, as she waited for Natalia to speak.
"We don't need to go see Rick," Natalia declared; eyes searching Olivia's. "I'm pretty sure I already know what's wrong…" She sounded sad, almost defeated; and most of all, scared.
Olivia's breath caught in her chest. "What?" she exhaled; fear rising inside her.
Natalia drew in a deep breath; closing her eyes, as she gathered the courage to answer.
"Natalia, you're scaring me…" Olivia nearly whimpered, when no response was forthcoming.
Finally releasing the breath from her lungs, Natalia grasped Olivia's hands in her own. "I think… Umm… I think I'm…" she stammered; nearly gasping for air, "I'm… pregnant…"
With the breathless uttering of two words, just three little syllables, their entire universe had been forever altered. And as if someone had punched her in the gut, every last bit of air was forced from Olivia's lungs, leaving her gasping for breath…
Friday, April 24, 2009… Martha's Vineyard—5:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Scurrying about the kitchen of their beach cottage, Bianca fussed incessantly as she chopped, minced, and diced every conceivable vegetable and herb Lena could even fathom existed. She acted as though she were preparing dinner for the Queen, rather than Lena's old college friend and her family.
"How long have the filets been marinating? They need at least twelve hours to ensure proper flavor. Do you remember what time I put them in this morning?" She quartered a carrot, and dropped the pieces into the colander in the sink. "Did you check on the grill? Are the coals on schedule?" She glanced up at Lena expectantly, after her round of rapid-fire questions.
Lena offered a slow, dimpled smile in response. Watching her wife get worked up like this simply amused her. "Did you really just ask me if the coals were on schedule?" She chuckled. "You're preparing dinner, not checking their arrival time," she teased.
Bianca made a face at her, and continued chopping the carrots on the cutting board. "The potatoes should have been on the grill thirty minutes ago." She had long-since cleaned them, poked them, brushed them in a light coating of vegetable oil to ensure that crispy, crusty goodness in the skin, sprinkled them with kosher salt, and wrapped them in tinfoil to ready them for the grill. Releasing a frustrated sigh, she wiped tiny beads of perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. She hated being behind schedule; especially with something this important. "They'll never be ready in time."
"I guess we'll be eating a little bit later then, won't we?" Lena observed, casually.
Glancing up at her, Bianca stifled a grin. "You're about as funny as Olivia," she said, dryly.
"I take it that's not very funny," Lena bantered.
"What do you think?" Bianca arched that trademark eyebrow, and Lena laughed.
Diligent hands made quick work of the remainder of the carrots, and then Bianca was busily rinsing them. She had already finished the chopping the zucchini, summer squash, and onion, minced the fresh garlic, and diced the fresh oregano, basil, and sage. "Baby, would you hand me the olive oil and pepper?"
Lena rose from the stool at the breakfast bar, and walked toward the refrigerator. Reaching above, she opened the cabinet, to retrieve the bottle of oil. "Do you want the pure or the extra virgin?"
"The extra virgin," Bianca answered. She quickly arranged a large sheet of heavy duty tinfoil into a makeshift tray by turning the edges upward, and dropped the mixture of freshly rinsed vegetables inside.
Grabbing the requested bottle, Lena closed the cabinet door, and reached for the pepper mill on the back of the stove. She sidled up behind Bianca, setting the items on the kitchen counter, as she stealthily wrapped her arms around her wife's waist.
Pressing into her backside, Lena nipped at Bianca's ear. "This oil is the only thing virgin around here anymore," she murmured, as her right hand slipped beneath Bianca's blue-and-white Pine Valley University t-shirt. The color was faded from years of wear, but those same years had made the material softer, more pliant, and thus, it had become one of Bianca's favorite t-shirts.
Bianca groaned at the contact; then giggled at Lena's comment. "You sound like that dirty-minded Englishman in Imagine Me & You." They had first viewed the lesbian film at Festival Del Mar—the annual gay pride festival in Ibiza, Spain, where they spent the latter part of their honeymoon. There were many gay and lesbian films that premiered during the festival, but this was the only one considered a theatrical release rather than an "indie film," and it had quickly become a favorite.
Somehow, Bianca had managed to get an advanced copy of it on DVD for Lena's birthday, before it was even released in theatres. Nearly five years later, she still had yet to reveal exactly how; but Lena surmised that her mother-in-law, the infamous Erica Kane, had somehow been involved.
"Are you complaining?" Lena queried, as her warm mouth slowly trekked along the taut cord of muscles in Bianca's neck.
"Hardly," Bianca purred. "Especially not if you keep this up." She tilted her head to allow Lena better access, and groaned again when a wandering hand found her right breast; squeezing lightly.
"You want more, don't you?" Lena's voice was knowingly seductive. Her left hand moved lower, brushing against the front of Bianca's jeans. She always used her left hand when she touched Bianca from this position.
"You know I do." Bianca growled, as Lena's hand applied just the right pressure in exactly the right place. She swallowed her wife's guttural response with a deep probing kiss.
"Do we have time?" Lena's voice was low, and raspy with want.
"No." Bianca's response was firm; but she sounded disappointed. "That's why we made time this morning." She grinned devilishly, as she recalled their early-morning lovemaking. Thank God both of their girls were good about sleeping in!
"Well, I want to make time again," Lena challenged; a seductive lilt to her accented tone. Her open mouth was pressed against Bianca's pulse point now, as her fingers probed, ever so gently.
Bianca groaned, and reluctantly forced a little distance between them. She turned toward Lena. "Grill. Now." She playfully snapped her fingers, and pointed toward the patio door.
"Damn," Lena groused. She turned toward the door, only to have Bianca catch her arm, and pull her back.
Their bodies were pressed together, and Bianca's dark eyes held the familiar flash of mischief. "You. Me. Jacuzzi. Later." She punctuated each word with slow, deliberate tongue kisses.
Lena produced a dimpled smile. "Perfect," was her one-word response. She kissed Bianca again.
"Potatoes," Bianca murmured, grinning against Lena's lips.
"Right…" Lena chuckled into their kiss. One last quick kiss, and she picked up the pan of foil-wrapped potatoes, and headed toward the back door. "You put the filets in the marinade around six thirty this morning, by the way," she called back to her wife, as she sauntered out onto the deck to check the readiness of the coals. She glanced at her watch: Five forty-five. "You should pull them out of the refrigerator in an hour, if you want them on the grill by seven thirty."
"Love you, Babe!"
Lena poked her head back in the door. "That's because you're a smart woman," she teased.
"Go check your coals," Bianca directed, with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her tone was wry; but she couldn't stop the smile that tickled the corners of her mouth. She blew Lena a kiss, and turned her attention back to her vegetables.
Friday, April 24, 2009… Lewis Jet—4:30 p.m. Central / 5:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Sinking further into the sofa, Natalia felt the emotion rising up in her chest as she remembered the sound of Olivia's breath, violently expunging itself from her lungs. Her face had been ashen, as though the very life had been yanked from her body, and even now, more than seven hours later, Natalia could still hear Olivia's labored gasps for air. She had wanted desperately to reach out for Olivia, but her body was anesthetized, and she couldn't move. She could barely breathe, herself; the weight of her confession pressed so heavily on her chest.
Even now, she could feel that pressure on her chest, and tears of regret pooled in those dark, expressive eyes, as she remembered the events that followed her confession…
Friday, April 24, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—9:40 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Two simple words. I'm pregnant. They sent Olivia's mind reeling; and Natalia's entire world into a familiar and unwelcome tailspin. It was one thing to suspect it; and something entirely different to lend voice to her suspicion.
Olivia stared at her blankly, her mouth opening and closing several times; yet nothing came out, as her brain attempted to process both content and meaning. Finally finding her voice, she uttered just one word. "Pregnant." It was both statement and question. Her face wore a veil of ever-evolving emotions: shock, bewilderment, dismay, and most poignantly, fear.
Natalia simply nodded her head.
Olivia bit her upper lip, as she began to process on a deeper level. "That's… just… No—," she said; shaking her head in adamant denial. "No, Natalia. There's just… it's not possible."
"I'm sorry, Olivia." Natalia's voice was brimming with repentance. She had never felt so ashamed in her life—even when she learned she was pregnant with Rafe. Back then it could be chalked up to teenaged naiveté—sex wasn't something that was discussed in her household, and she hadn't known she could get pregnant the first time. Now it was just plain adult stupidity—she knew, all too well, the consequences of sex, and she chose to sleep with Frank anyway. The only similarity the two events had in common, aside from the possibility of a second pregnancy, was the fact that each of those sexual encounters had been prompted by fear.
With Nicky, it had been the fear of losing him; of losing that sense of being loved and of belonging to someone. And with Frank, it had been the fear of her growing desire to be loved by, and to belong to Olivia. It was the fear of feelings that were growing like wildfire; burning into her heart and body, images of Olivia and the feelings and desires that she dare not indulge.
"There's no reason to be sorry, Natalia, because there's no way you're pregnant," Olivia insisted. "You would've… I would've notice—"
Natalia reached out, halting Olivia's words with the placement of a finger on the hotelier's lips. "Stop, okay?" She sighed, creating a pause. "I don't wanna believe it either, Olivia," she admitted, when she finally spoke again, "but it makes sense now, when I piece everything together.
"What do you mean?"
"You know how tired I've been. I feel drained all the time. I've been cranky, moody even, and forgetful." She chuckled a little, but there was no humor in it. "And I wasn't feeling well yesterday morning when I went to pick up your Armani suit from the cleaners. I ran into Blake…" She remembered Blake's voice saying, "If I didn't know you were with Olivia, I'd probably say you were pregnant." God, those were the ugliest words she had ever heard. She had immediately stuffed them down, forcing them to submit to her urgent need for denial. Just thinking about Blake's postulation made her want to vomit again.
"Whoa, wait a minute," Olivia interrupted; again, not liking what she was hearing. "Why did you go out to pick up my suit when you weren't feeling well?" Anything to give her a moment to process what Natalia had just told her.
"Because you said you needed it for our trip," Natalia answered; shrugging her shoulders.
"Well, you should've asked one of the staff to do that," Olivia said, insistently.
"Oh, that is so not the point!" Natalia huffed; frustrated that their conversation wasn't getting her anywhere.
"Maybe not, but… I don't want you running menial errands for me—especially when you're not feeling well. We have an entire staff of people at our beck and call," Olivia argued. And then she stopped, and her expression changed to one of realization. "Wait a minute. You've suspected this since yesterday, and you didn't say anything?" She begged the question with her tone.
Natalia nodded, sheepishly. In an attempt to deter the swirl of emotions inside of her, she suddenly found her feet quite interesting.
"Oh, my God, that's why you were so edgy and distracted during dinner last night," Olivia reasoned aloud.
"I just… You were just so happy. Laughing, chatting, making plans. I just wanted to enjoy that time with you. I didn't want to ruin our evening," Natalia said, softly, her fingers twisting nervously in front of her. "You asked if I was okay, and… Oh, God, Liv, I was freaking out inside. But I couldn't tell you. Not then." Tears collected in her eyes. "I don't even wanna be telling you this now."
Olivia drew her close. "Look at me, Natalia," she quietly coaxed, tipping Natalia's chin.
Tearstained eyes reluctantly met Olivia's, and Natalia's lower lip began to quiver.
"You need to listen to me, okay?" Olivia's voice was calm and even. "Even if this is true, you won't have ruined anything, Sweetheart," she softly reassured. "This is just a really… I'm just surprised, is all…"
"Obviously not pleasantly so," Natalia accused. She hadn't meant to sound so harsh.
"I didn't say that, Natalia." Olivia hoped she didn't sound defensive.
"Well, you didn't say you were happy, either…"
"Sweetheart, I…" Olivia sighed, and searched for words. She reached out, taking Natalia's hands into her own. "It's not that I'm unhappy about this. It's just, well… right now I'm just a little stunned, is all." She sounded overwhelmed, but not angry or upset like Natalia had expected. "I mean, it's not like either of us was expecting this, y'know? And besides, we're not even certain it's really true," she reasoned. She needed to grab onto a little hope, somewhere.
When Natalia realized how harsh she had sounded, she was immediately remorseful. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Liv," she cried. She pulled Olivia closer; clinging to her. "I didn't mean that. I really didn't. I—I'm just so scared of losing you…" Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking into Olivia's shirt.
Olivia held her close, rocking her gently. "Oh, Honey, why would you ever think you're going to lose me…" She kissed Natalia's temple, soothingly.
It was more an inner thought spoken aloud, than an actual question; but Natalia answered anyway. The obvious answer was that this was Frank's child, and she was afraid Olivia couldn't, or wouldn't, live with a constant reminder of Natalia's self-proclaimed betrayal. But the answer that sprang from her mouth was something very different. "Well, you just… you didn't seem very receptive when I told you I wanted to have more children with you, and I thought…"
"You thought what, Sweetheart?" Olivia gently prodded.
Natalia bit her bottom lip to stave off more tears. "I thought this might be a deal-breaker…"
Releasing her hold on Natalia's body, Olivia moved back, meeting her gaze. The expression in her eyes was one of raw determination. "You listen to me, Natalia. The only way this would be a deal-breaker, is if you were to leave me for Frank," she said, forthrightly. It was what she had feared the most from the moment she first pushed Frank to date Natalia. And now, standing there on the precipice of that possibility, the utterance of those words felt like a knife stabbing her in the gut, and twisting.
She fought hard to keep that clutching fear from reflecting in her eyes; but Natalia knew her far too well. Little comments, here and there, had been adding up for her as the weeks passed, and now, the expression in Olivia's eyes cinched the deal—Olivia had been afraid of Natalia leaving her all along. She tucked that knowledge away, rather than confronting Olivia with it—she knew it would be better coming from Olivia, when she was finally ready. Instead, she dealt directly with the statement Olivia had made. "I've never felt this kind of uncertainty, Olivia. Not in my entire life," Natalia said, bluntly. "But the one thing I'm completely certain of is that I would never leave you—especially not for Frank; and definitely not because of this baby."
"You sound as though you already know it's true," Olivia observed. "We uh, we need a test, y'know, to be sure."
"I, umm… I picked one up at the pharmacy on my way back from the dry cleaners," Natalia reported.
"Oh," Olivia exhaled, bewildered. "Have you already taken it?" She looked anxious.
"No—" Natalia shook her head. "But I have no doubt what the results will be."
The air hung heavy between them, and Olivia bit her bottom lip, subconsciously. "Maybe you should—"
Natalia was nodding her agreement before Olivia even finished the statement. She squeezed Olivia's hand; the expression in those tearstained eyes was pained as she slowly released her grasp. And her feet felt like lead as she stepped toward the master bath.
Bending down, she retrieved the test from beneath the sink, where she had stashed it the afternoon prior. She fidgeted with the box, making several failed attempts at opening it. And then she felt Olivia's hand touching hers; steadying her.
She glanced up, meeting the compassion in Olivia's jade eyes.
Wordlessly wrapping one arm around Natalia's waist from behind, Olivia kissed her temple. She nuzzled against Natalia's cheek then, whispering, "You don't have to do this alone."
Natalia instinctively knew Olivia was talking about far more than just the test. Her eyes filled with tears again, as she caught their reflection in the mirror. They looked so perfect together; Olivia's face nuzzled so intimately against her own.
Jade eyes locking on mahogany pools that shimmered with worry, Olivia gently removed the box from shaky hands, as she released Natalia from her hold. She fumbled with the box, opening it with only slightly less resistance than Natalia had been experiencing.
Pulling the testing stick out, she handed it to Natalia. Their fingers brushed together in the transfer, and both of them bristled, slightly. For the first time ever, there was genuine fear in their touch; but thankfully, they still felt the love that flowed beneath it.
Olivia dropped down onto the edge of the bathtub, and opened the instruction pamphlet. She sighed heavily, an attempt to ease her tension, as she began to read.
Not knowing what else to do, Natalia nervously sat down next to her. The testing stick felt as dangerous as a stick of ignited dynamite between her fingers, and she regarded it as a perilous enemy. Chewing her bottom lip, her fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with it; until Olivia reached over, gently grasping her hand.
She didn't have to say anything. Natalia understood the meaning behind the silent gesture.
When she finished reading, Olivia turned toward Natalia; who regarded her with nervous expectancy. She explained the necessary procedures to ensure an accurate reading; and with Natalia's assurance that she understood, Olivia stood up from the bathtub's edge. Then, reaching out, she claimed Natalia's hand, pulling her to her feet.
"I'll be right here, okay?" Olivia quietly reassured.
Natalia's eyes darted about; her expression more than a bit discomfited. And Olivia laughed softly in response. "I didn't mean that quite so literally," she clarified. "I meant that I'll be—" She gestured toward Natalia's bedroom.
Blushing profusely, Natalia's gaze dropped to the object in her hand. "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," she said, sheepishly, before Olivia even finished her sentence. "I know what you meant." She felt incredibly embarrassed.
Olivia fished her Blackberry from the pocket of her jeans, and set the timer for five minutes. "Press this button to start the timer," she instructed, pointing to the black square with the silver edges in the center of the device. It was her way of easing Natalia's discomfiture. "I'll be right outside, whenever you're ready." She left it up to Natalia to determine the timing of whatever happened next.
Natalia nodded her assent, and accepted the device from Olivia's hand. "Thank you," she said, quietly.
Stepping closer, Olivia gently cupped Natalia's face in her hands. "However this turns out, just know that I love you, okay?"
Delivered on a whisper, Olivia's words stirred Natalia's tattered emotions, and tears began anew.
Pulling Natalia flush against her own body, Olivia held her close. She made soft shushing noises, and whispered quiet reassurances until the tears began to subside; but not once did she minimize Natalia's feelings. She understood, all too well, how it felt to be scared about an unwanted pregnancy—though personally, she couldn't imagine not wanting a child that belonged to Natalia, regardless of how that child came into existence.
But that was neither here nor there in the moment. First, they needed to be certain there was even a child to consider. Gently, she eased Natalia from her body, keeping a firm hold on her biceps, as she locked onto her gaze. They spoke in silent conversation, as they often did, and then wiping tears away with the pads of her thumbs, Olivia leaned in, kissing Natalia tenderly. It was the only communication they needed before Olivia stepped out of the bathroom to wait.
Friday, April 24, 2009… Martha's Vineyard—5:45 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Charcoal or wood fires were Lena's preferences for grilling. And she loved the custom-built dual-option grill that had been part of her wedding gift from Bianca. But on days such as this, when her wife was flitting around, fussing about the timing of a meal, she longed for the quick ease of grilling with gas.
Checking on the coals, she was thankful to find that they were ready. Bianca would have a conniption if Lena returned to that kitchen and the potatoes weren't on the grill. Lena would gladly deal with the little fits and the need for meticulousness though. It meant that their guests were important to Bianca. For rarely did she get anxious about the timing of a meal, or anything else regarding company for that matter, when that wasn't the case. It made Lena feel good to know Bianca had attached the same sense of importance to this visit, as had she. This was going to be a great weekend, she mused.
Grinning, Lena reached into the pan she had carried from the kitchen, and lifted the potatoes out two at a time, positioning them near the back of the grill. Sheltered from the ocean breeze, they would cook more quickly there, Lena reasoned.
Turning toward the door, she made the mistake of glancing across the deck. A wide array of toys—both children's and dog's—were scattered about. Again. Sometimes she wondered how two little children and one Cocker Spaniel could manage to make so many messes. She smiled to herself, as her eyes dropped to her abdomen. And pressing her hand firmly against it, she wondered whether those messes would increase exponentially with the addition of their third child. They had thirty two weeks to go before they would find out, and she was simply giddy with anticipation.
A quick glance down the stairs revealed Jordan's bicycle, tipped over in the center of the mid-level deck. How the child always managed to tip over a bicycle with training wheels still baffled her; but that was her Little One. Nothing the child did ever ceased to amaze Lena.
Alex's ladybug scooter had been abandoned nearby, telling her that her girls had been hard at play, together. She shook her head and grinned. Had anyone told her six years ago that she would be this happy living in a world filled with inflatable bounce 'n slides, ladybug scooters, doll houses, and Lego pieces that seemed to multiply like rabbits and always be underfoot, she would have laughed in their face and promptly called them a fool. She had never been happier to be wrong, and that realization was not lost on her, as she unlatched the gate, and bounded down the stairs to store the riding toys beneath the upper deck where they belonged.
Reaching the upper deck again, she gathered random Mega Bloks, a Disney Princesses beach ball, a half-chewed bone, an empty sand pail and two shovels, their volleyball, two squeaky toys—a yellow ostrich called "Ossie" and the pink football, a fire truck, a pair of blue Princess Jasmine dress-up heels, and an inexplicably liberated Barbie Doll head, and dropped them in the appropriate boxes near the sliding glass door that led to their bedroom.
Thinking herself satisfied with the appearance, Lena finally headed toward the family room door; but before she made it inside, she just simply couldn't resist walking over, rearranging the Adirondack chairs around the fire pit for the third time that day. And then she laughed at herself—sometimes she was as bad as her wife.
Popping in through the family room door, she found Bianca basting the vegetables with a mixture of olive oil, minced garlic, and pepper. "Potatoes are on the grill," she announced, before her wife could even ask.
Bianca glanced up from her work, and smiled. "Thank you," she said, appreciatively. "These will be ready to go on in about thirty minutes." She tore off another sheet of tinfoil.
Lena reached over, snatching a raw carrot before Bianca could tent them with the foil. Bianca was about to protest, when Lena released a satisfied moan. "The seasoning is perfect," she praised.
Unable to resist knowing for herself, Bianca reached in, procuring a sample. She tasted it, and agreed. "Oooh, you're right. I think I'll use this blend more often," she decided. Satisfied, she tented the foil over the veggies then, pressing the sides together firmly to create a sealed pouch.
"Sounds good to me," Lena agreed. She sat down on the barstool, and propped her chin in her upturned palm; watching Bianca work. "Have I told you lately, how much I love your cooking?"
"You're just happy I'm not burning your dinner anymore," Bianca teased.
"What are you talking about, Sweetheart?" Lena said, rhetorically. "Your cooking is wonderful."
Chuckling, Bianca replied, "Well, I wouldn't go that far. But it's a damn sight better than it was five years ago. I'll give you that." She wiped her hands on a blue gingham kitchen towel, and tossed it on the counter.
Memories of charred meats, blaring smoke alarms, overcooked vegetables, chewy pasta, and a sobbing wife, made Lena grin. "Yes, it's definitely better than five years ago," she readily agreed.
Bianca laughed. She knew exactly what Lena was thinking. "Let's just hope tonight's dinner is nothing like any of those." She sounded more than a bit nervous about the prospect of failure. Using the tongs as a means of distraction, she flipped the filets over in the marinade.
Sliding off of her barstool, Lena rounded the breakfast bar, and pulled Bianca into her arms. "Just relax, okay?" She soothed her wife with a light kiss. "Everything will be perfect."
"I can't just relax," Bianca resisted. "Olivia is an accomplished Chef. I can't serve anything that's less than perfect."
"She's not coming here to critique your cooking skills, Sweetheart."
Grinning, Bianca agreed. "No, she sure isn't."
Lena understood the tacit message. "She's bringing her girlfriend to meet us," she said, emphasizing the gender of Olivia's partner. She paused in wonder. "I still can't believe she's with a woman. Wonders never cease."
"Still sorry you missed out on her?" Bianca teased, remembering Lena's candid recounting of how smokin'-hot Olivia Spencer had shot her down cold during their college years.
Dark eyes flickered with passion as Lena searched Bianca's face. "I have everything I've ever needed or wanted, right here," she said, softly.
Casually, Bianca draped her arms around Lena's neck, earning a dimpled smile from her wife. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and she leaned in, kissing Lena passionately. "I don't care how late dinner ends up being," she murmured, her voice low and sultry, as she brushed her mouth against Lena's, "you are so getting some right now…" She nipped Lena's bottom lip, extracting a low groan.
"Where are the girls?" Lena husked. As was always the case, her body was instantly responsive to her wife's advances, and she was more than ready to go.
"They're with Grandma and Grandpa," Bianca answered, amid a sultry kiss.
"God, I love my Mother." Delivered on a groan, Lena tangled her fingers in Bianca's hair, as she pushed her against the wall.
Moaning her wholehearted agreement, the fingers of Bianca's right hand made quick work of the fly on Lena's jeans, as she simultaneously glanced at her watch over Lena's shoulder. "We have forty five minutes," she reported, breathlessly; recalling Paulina's promise to be home with the girls by six forty-five. "Let's make the most of it..."
Lena moaned her approval into Bianca's mouth. "You'll get no arguments from me." Declared on a growl, kisses continued as she began moving Bianca backwards, making their way toward the bedroom.
Friday, April 24, 2009… Lewis Jet—4:45 p.m. Central / 5:45 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Natalia was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of giggling. A casual glance across the cabin found Emma curled up in an easy chair, reading the Beverly Cleary classic, The Mouse and the Motorcycle. It had been a favorite of Natalia's as a child, and one of the few books she had taken with her when she left home. Remembering how she had read it to Rafe when he was a little boy, she might have turned sentimental, had she not been distracted by the image of Emma in that chair. For the first time, she took a moment to not only observe the room, but to consider the mechanics. The place looked like someone's living room; except that it was a living room with wings. It felt almost surreal, and Natalia had a passing thought about whether or not the furniture was somehow bolted down. It was, of course—it was silly of her to even wonder. But distraction was bliss at the moment, and she would take any she could find.
Standing at the wet bar, Natalia poured another bottle of water into a glass of ice, and took a long gulp. The more time she spent ruminating over their long, arduous morning, the more unsettled she felt. And now, her stomach was literally in knots. Olivia's calming presence, her kindness and uncharacteristic show of patience throughout the day had only served to make Natalia feel worse, instead of better. And she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for every moment of anguish her own poor choices had caused, for both of them; but especially for the woman she loved.
Setting the half-empty glass on the table, she dropped down into the chair with a heavy sigh. Her head was throbbing, and she felt as though it might explode. Leaning her elbows on the table, she rubbed her temples; an effort to assuage the pain. But her efforts were in vain. She took another drink of the water, and forced back tears, as her thoughts turned back to Olivia—she was worried sick about her. The emotions stirred by her impending reunion with Alex were obviously weighing on the hotelier's mind—she had barely spoken since their flight began, and she seemed to be growing increasingly more tense, the closer they came to their destination. And Natalia's plight had only served to add to that rising tension…
Friday, April 24, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—10:15 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Inside the bathroom, Natalia slumped down on the edge of the bathtub, and eyed the testing stick with disdain. She could hear Olivia, anxiously pacing the floor outside the master bath. She knew she needed to act quickly—to end the tension caused by the unknown, for both their sakes. But she felt completely anesthetized; unable to make her body move.
Ten minutes ticked by. Natalia's heart rate increased, as she contemplated the stick.
Then, fifteen. Beads of perspiration collected on her brow.
Twenty minutes. Finally, she reached toward the stick. Her stomach began to churn, and she thought she might vomit again. As if she had been burned, instinctually, she recoiled; burying her face in her hands. Feverishly, she began to pray; seeking absolution for her sin, and begging God for this nightmare to be nothing more than a fleeting bad dream.
Olivia had long-since stopped her pacing—it wasn't doing either of them any good anyway, and she was certain the carpeting was thankful for the reprieve. Instead, she sat on Natalia's bed, staring at the familiar pictures on the nightstand; her fingertips taping nervously against the faint scar in the center of her chest. She had a fleeting thought: a wish that Gus had gotten Natalia pregnant again before he died. Then there would be no way Natalia would have ever even slept with Frank. Olivia knew her—Natalia would have distracted herself from her growing feelings for Olivia by focusing her energy on that child. And thus, there would be no way that a pregnancy by Frank would be possible.
Twenty minutes turned to thirty, and finally, Natalia opened the bathroom door. And she stood there.
Stock still.
Looking at Olivia with pleading eyes.
Olivia was on her feet in an instant; anxious expectation in her eyes. "What did it say?" She held her breath, waiting for the impending response.
Natalia bit her bottom lip, and averted Olivia's gaze. "I just started the timer."
"Oh—" Olivia felt her hope deflate, and the sharp corresponding release of air from her lungs felt like a crushing blow to her chest. The wait that she had thought to finally be over, had in essence only just begun. But the ache in her chest was nothing in comparison to the pain she found in Natalia's eyes. Tossing her own cares aside, Olivia went to her; pulling her close.
Clinging to Olivia, Natalia's entire body began to shake. Olivia simply held her, and stroked her hair until she calmed enough to move. The air remained dense between them as Olivia ushered Natalia back into the bathroom, settling them on the edge of the tub. They felt the tension mounting as seconds slowly ticked into minutes, and they weathered it, as they had learned to weather any challenge: Together. And had they spoken, they would have realized a fundamental truth—the one that would set the tone for their future: In one of the most stressful moments they had encountered in the history of their entire relationship, neither of them was focused on her own fears and concerns, but rather, their deepest concern was for the impact a positive test result would have on the other.
The alarm on Olivia's Blackberry went off, slicing through leaden stillness like a razor-sharp blade, and echoing in the smallness of the room. The moment of truth was finally upon them.
Tearstained eyes fell on the object of Natalia's disdain. It taunted her; an ominous reminder of her sin and betrayal. She glanced sideways at Olivia, shaking her head back and forth. "I can't—" she barely choked out.
Olivia nodded; but remained still. She felt her pulse increase, and her mouth felt like the Sahara, desiccated; her tongue, like sandpaper. "Do you want me—"
"Please—" Natalia pleaded, before Olivia even finished her question.
Closing her eyes, Olivia breathed deeply, exhaling slowly; an attempt to steady her nerves. She squeezed Natalia's hand, and Natalia squeezed back—a reciprocal offering and acceptance of strength. And then she was standing. Her body felt leaden, her feet like moving through a deep snowdrift, as she navigated the small space, making her way to the vanity.
Dark eyes, riddled with guilt and shame, followed her as she moved; and halted abruptly, along with the breath in her chest, when Olivia stopped in front of the vanity. Silently, Natalia prayed; fettered air burning her lungs. And then her heart began to pound, so hard that swore Olivia could hear it.
Closing her eyes, Olivia grasped the edge of the vanity; her knuckles turning white with tension. She released a slow, agonizingly sharp breath. And finally, opening her eyes, she looked down at the testing strip that held their fate.
TBC… in Chapter 9.3—When Past and Present Collide…