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 Spencer, Natalia Rivera, Doris Wolfe, and Frank Cooper are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena and Paulina Kundera, Bianca Montgomery, Zach Slater, and Michael Cambias are owned by All My Children, ABC/Disney and Prospect Park.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, AMC, ABC/Disney, Prospect Park or any other entity. Dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Rating: Chapter 9.8 is rated PG, I guess. There's some mild sexual innuendo in it, but nothing really over-the-top.
Thank you all for your continued interest in this story. As always, I appreciate the time taken to read and comment. The next section of the story is quite lengthy—I have about 62 pages of the rough draft completed, but between packing and transporting boxes, and trying to keep up with reading and class assignments, I just haven't had time to put the finishing touches on all of it. I had planned to post it all at once; however, I realized how long it's been since I gave y'all an update. So, I thought rather than make you wait, I would post it in smaller increments, over the course of the next several weeks. How do shorter, but weekly updates sound? That will get us through the remainder of my semester, as well as my move. Oh, and let me tell you, moving mid-semester is a pain in the ass… LOL Case in point, I tried to print out the paper that I wrote this week, only to find that my black ink cartridge was out... And guess where my spare cartridges are? Uh, yeah—they're at the other house. I literally took them down there in a carload of boxes the night before… It's an hour away, so… off to Wally World I went, at three in the morning... Ugh.
Anyway, here's the first handful of pages from the next section of the story. I sat down tonight and cleaned it up for y'all. Hope you enjoy! I know I enjoyed writing it for you…
Have a great weekend!
Regards—
Kimberly xo
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 9.8 – When Past and Present Collide:
Every choice we make carries a consequence.And it has been said that, for better or worse, each choice is the unavoidable consequence of its predecessor. But oftentimes in life we allow our emotions—be they love or hate, anger or apathy, courage or fear—to rule our choices, without consideration of those inevitable consequences. And, it is these emotionally-based choices—the ones which emanate from fear, anger, hurt, being in love, revenge, jealousy, that often bring the direst of consequences, and tend to wield their own unique brand of comeuppance—a lesson that was on the horizon for an ever-expanding group of individuals, all of whom were intricately tied to Olivia and Natalia…
Tuesday, April 28, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—5:30 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Plagued by haunting dreams of Alex throughout the night, the morning of his impending arrival, Olivia was up before sunbeams began to stir. Neither she nor Natalia knew what to expect—either from him, or from their own selves, and they had talked honestly about those uncertainties before falling asleep the previous night. Natalia had held her close, whispering soft reassurances to her, as they prepared for his imminent visit. And then somewhere in the night, whispers had turned to kisses, giving way to tender caresses, and together, they inched infinitely closer to making love.
Every inch of Natalia's skin felt like spun silk beneath Olivia's fingertips, her mouth, her tongue. And the sensation of Natalia's hands, gliding along Olivia's skin; touching the small of her back, her belly, her inner thigh as curious fingertips innocently inched oh so close to… there. The warmth of her mouth, her tongue, exploring the taut cord of muscle along Olivia's neck… Every touch, every nip, every kiss, every soft moan, intoxicated her. But her fears about losing Natalia, irrational as they might have been, were sobering. Shaken, Olivia had fallen into fitful sleep in Natalia's arms; leaving Natalia to tearful prayer. She couldn't fix what she didn't understand—only God had the power to accomplish such a miracle. And so Natalia left it up to Him.
When Olivia awoke the following morning, she watched Natalia sleep for a long, long while; thankful for the gift that she had been given, and hopeful that it wouldn't be taken away. She felt confident in their love—it was the one stable force in their lives. But love was never a guarantee of eternal happiness—at least it hadn't been for Olivia. And the world around them felt unsteady; crumbling. What if Frank objected to her raising his child with Natalia? What if Natalia gave in, and walked away? Worse yet, what if she stayed long enough for Olivia to fall in love with the child, and then realized what a terrible mistake she had made? Olivia simply couldn't bear the thought of it.
Before her emotions could overwhelm her, she kissed Natalia's temple, and then, quietly, she slipped from their bed, leaving Natalia to her peaceful slumber. The longer Natalia stayed oblivious to Olivia's inner torment, the better for her and the child, Olivia reasoned.
Moving stealthily through the dark, she made her way to the kitchen. At such an ungodly hour, she was in need of some serious motivation—and coffee was screaming her name. It only took a few minutes to measure the fresh grounds, and fill the carafe with water and pour it into the coffeemaker. Then it became a waiting game.
As the sanity-sustaining liquid brewed, she stumbled into the family room, where she retrieved the picture of Zach and Erick from the mantle. Better to focus on the immediate, rather than the ambiguity that awaited them at home, she reasoned. And just that quickly, her worries turned from the uncertainty of Frank's inevitable reaction to Natalia's pregnancy, to Alex, and how he would react to the news of their son.
Dropping into Paulina's recliner, she stared at that haunting photo in the semi-darkness, wondering if Alex would have looked at their son with such devotion, had he been there to witness his birth. And as she awaited Zach's impending arrival, Olivia's thoughts drifted back to a bitter-cold winter's night—to a cold, sterile delivery room in London, nearly twenty years prior...
She could hear him crying, her son. Alex's son. And she begged the nurses to let her see him. He was hers, god-damn-it, and she had every right; even if she had chosen to give him away! But they adamantly refused, insisting over and over again, that it was "for the best."
"Whose best?" she had wanted to scream. But she couldn't find her voice. Not after grunting, panting, pushing, and screaming her way through hours of agonizing labor.
"Surely it wouldn't hurt to just let her see him; make sure he's all right," she heard Paulina saying. She had been with Olivia throughout her entire labor and delivery; despite arguments from the doctor and his nursing staff. Paulina didn't give a damn about their protocol, she had insisted. She wasn't leaving her daughter. And that's exactly how she viewed Olivia—as her own daughter.
But the nurses remained adamant, and only Paulina had been permitted even a glimpse of the child before he was rushed from the room. Later, Paulina had described to her, in as much detail as she could recall, the beauty and perfection of her firstborn son. And Olivia cried herself to sleep in Paulina's arms.
"Your coffee is ready." There were tears streaming down Olivia's face, and last thing she remembered about that night was the amalgam of grief, utter exhaustion, and extreme gratitude she felt for Paulina, as the sound of Lena's voice startled her; ripping her from the past. She jumped, and Lena quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you. Want some?" she smiled, holding a steaming mug out to Olivia, in amends.
Wiping the tears away, Olivia smiled up at her, thankful for the semi-darkness, as she reached for the mug. "Thank you."
"You were awfully deep in thought," Lena observed, as she folded her legs into the chair opposite Olivia. She didn't mention the tears. "Feel like talking about it?" she offered, taking a sip from her own mug.
"Like I told Natalia yesterday: there really isn't much to talk about," Olivia said, passively.
Noting the picture frame in Olivia's hand, Lena reached forward, setting her mug on the coffee table. "I think there's a lot more than you're willing to admit."
Cornered, Olivia cursed Lena under her breath, and fixed her with a glare over the top of her mug, as she slipped the picture frame between her left thigh and the arm of the chair. "Oh, yeah?" she challenged. "Well, I think you're too nosey for your own damned good."
Lena grinned. Now that was the Spencer she knew and loved. "And I think I care enough about you to call you on your shit. What's going on in that head of yours? Because we both know you're not up this early out of any great love of mornings." There was sarcastic humor in her tone when she finished.
Pursing her lips, Olivia's glare momentarily intensified. But despite her best effort to the contrary, a slight grin cracked at the corners of her lips. She shook her head in surrender, and then her eyes fixated on the steamy liquid that swirled in her cup. "I understand why he made the choice that he did," she finally admitted. "But god-damn-it, Lena, right now, I'm so pissed off at him, I swear I could strangle him myself."
"You have every right to be angry, Olivia," Lena validated. "What he did—the choice he made—cost you your child." Her voice was an amalgam of empathy and indignation.
Her head jerking up, Olivia stared at her in astonishment. "How did you know?"
But she already knew the answer, and she was nodding her head, even as Lena softly sighed, "Mama—"
"I should have known she would tell you," Olivia said, in a tone that held only gratitude. Anything to keep from reliving that decision yet again.
Reaching over, Lena gently grasped Olivia's right hand. "No one understands your anger more than I do."
"I know—," Olivia quietly acknowledged. Their eyes met over the edge of Olivia's mug as she sipped her coffee, and she gave Lena's hand a firm squeeze.
"Should I be at all concerned about finding you holding my wife's hand in the dark?" Bianca said teasingly, as she entered the room.
"It's not that dark in here," Olivia denied, as their hands fell apart. "There's some light from the kitchen."
"Semantics," Bianca sighed dramatically.
Olivia smiled at her, thankful for the reprieve from her inner torment.
"What sounds good for breakfast?" Bianca asked.
"I think something light would be good this morning." Lena tried to sound nonchalant. She thought it best for Olivia, in case her nerves got the better of her when Zach arrived.
Taking a furtive glance at Lena, jade eyes flashed with gratitude.
Bianca approached Lena, concern in her eyes. "Are you feeling all right, Honey?" She crouched down, gently touching Lena's face.
Lena responded with a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Sweetheart." She leaned forward, brushing her mouth against Bianca's in a light kiss. "I promise."
"Okay, then," Bianca said, satisfied that all was well with her wife. "Fresh fruit?" she suggested. "I can throw a nice platter together. And I think we have some leftover fruit salad, too."
"That sounds perfect," Olivia said, thankfully. "Mind if I help?" she asked. "I could use the distraction this morning."
"I think a better distraction would be a run on the beach with me," Lena interjected.
Olivia gave her a look that asked what planet she was from, and Lena laughed in response. Not easily deterred, she simply told the ill-tempered hotelier she would meet her on the beach in fifteen, before sauntering from the room.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—7:15 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Returning from their run, Lena and Sandy bounded up the stairs from the beach, energized. Lagging behind, Olivia cursed under her breath, as she barely tripped up onto the lower deck before collapsing in an exhausted heap. It wasn't that she was really that out of shape—truth was, thanks to Natalia's influence, she had never been more fit. But she had never seen a pregnant woman with such stamina— Lena was an absolute force, and it had proven impossible for Olivia to keep up.
"I really hate you right now," Olivia panted out, fixing Lena with a disdainful glare. Thank God Lena hadn't expected her to carry on a conversation as they ran, she thought.
"You'll get over it," Lena said, passively. She couldn't help but grin. Whether Olivia admitted it or not, the run had been exactly what she needed to take her mind off of her troubles. "Besides, it was good for you, and you know it." Grabbing two towels from the wooden cabinet near the Jacuzzi, she tossed one toward Olivia.
"Sadistic bitch," Olivia groused, as she caught the towel. Clinging to the railing, she released a long, exaggerated groan as she heaved herself into an upright position. "Thank you," she added, breathily, as she wiped the perspiration from her face.
"I've been called far worse," Lena said, blithely, as she worked the towel across soaked skin. "By you, as I recall…"
Olivia recalled the day she had accused Lena of being a, well... something far less flattering than a sadistic bitch. She cringed at the memory, wishing she could take it back. But she knew Lena well enough to know that no grudges had been held.
"Not one of my finer moments," Olivia sheepishly admitted.
"You can say that again," Lena grinned.
"Fuck off." There was humor in Olivia's tone.
Laughing, Lena tossed her a bottle of water. "Shut up and drink this."
Still out of breath, Olivia thanked her, as she leaned against the railing, and did as she was told.
Sandy barked twice, making her usual demand, and Lena crouched down, bottle in hand. She tousled the dog's sandy-blonde fur. "I wouldn't forget you, Girl," she said, affectionately. The dog barked again, prompting Lena to laugh, and tip the bottle. And thus, the drink ritual began, with Olivia looking on in amazement.
They chattered amiably as Lena finished giving Sandy her drink. And when the dog trotted off to find her pink football, Lena grabbed Olivia's hand, pulling her to her feet. She protested, but Lena told her to quit whining, and insisted that cool-down stretches were necessary. Olivia grumped about it, of course, but she knew Lena was right—they would both be sorry if they skipped it.
Twenty minutes later, their cool-down was finished, and they were lounging on the upper deck with mugs of coffee. Lena intermittently tossed Sandy's ball for her, happily engaging the dog in one of her favorite activities. The morning paper lay untouched on the table, as they talked about nothing in particular.
But even as they talked, Olivia's mind was busy, tracking days' worth of thoughts, emotions, and conversations. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, she glanced up, meeting her friend's gaze. "Thank you, Lena," she said, with deep sincerity in her tone.
She didn't need to explain. Lena understood, and she offered a warm smile in response. "You should run with me every morning," she said, casually. She set her mug on the table, and crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair.
"I think maybe I will," Olivia decided. There was determination in her tone. And then she was taking another sip of her coffee, as Lena tossed the ball across the deck, and Sandy scampered after it once again.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—8:00 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
The ringing of Olivia's cell phone startled Natalia from a restful sleep. Rolling toward the sound, she frowned when she found Olivia's side of the bed abandoned, cold. Groggily, she grunted and rubbed her eyes, as she reached toward the offending device. It was rather early for a call—still only 7:00 a.m. in Springfield, Natalia noted, so she assumed it was someone from the Beacon. Glancing at the caller ID, she quickly realized she was wrong, and she didn't even need to answer for the call to put a smile on her face—it was Heirloom Furnishings.
She answered, declaring, "Olivia Spencer's office. Natalia Rivera speaking. How may I help you?" It was the way she always answered Olivia's cell when the hotelier wasn't available. She hoped the owner, Mr. Davis, hadn't heard the bed creaking as she slid up, propping her back against the headboard.
A brief conversation confirmed her assumption: their bedroom furniture was ready for delivery. Those butterflies were doing flip-flops in her belly, and she struggled to keep them in check as she dealt with the call. She thanked Mr. Davis, for attending to the matter of notifying Olivia personally, and let him know she would be in touch again once she had worked out details on their end.
After hanging up with Mr. Davis, she dialed Tracy's cell.
"Hey, Boss Lady!" Tracy chirped in greeting, thinking it was Olivia phoning her. "Terrorized any concierges' yet?" she teased.
Natalia chuckled. "Wrong Boss Lady," she corrected good-naturedly.
"Oh! Hey, Natalia," Tracy quickly rallied.
"Hey," Natalia said with a grin. "To answer your question, we're staying with friends, so Olivia's been fairly well-behaved so far."
Tracy laughed. "Lucky you, huh?"
"Definitely," Natalia readily agreed. "Sorry to confuse you, I don't know where my phone is right now," she reported.
"Ah… that's the best kind of vacation, isn't it?" Tracy sounded refreshed just thinking about it.
"You said it," Natalia swiftly agreed. "I hope this isn't a bad time." Her tone asked the question.
"Oh, no, not at all," Tracy said, casually. "I'm just on my way to drop the boys off at my parent's place." Jen had already been at work for several hours, as had been the case since Olivia asked her to take charge beginning the previous Friday.
They chatted briefly about how things were faring at the Beacon, and Tracy jokingly told her they had been "eventful, but not unmanageable."
Laughing, Natalia said she assumed that to mean things were relatively normal. Tracy confirmed her assumption.
And then Natalia explained that she needed a favor, if at all possible. She needed Tracy to take Jared and Dave, the dayshift maintenance guys, out to the farmhouse to disassemble and move furniture, to make room for the new bedroom suite that would be arriving later that afternoon. They were all to stay on the clock, including Lawrence, who was to drive them in one of the Beacon vehicles, unless Tracy felt more comfortable driving out to the house alone. If that was the case, she was to take one of the Beacon vehicles, as well. And she was welcome to take Jen along if she liked. Tracy thanked her for the consideration, saying she just might do that—they could use a few hours of downtime together.
Natalia explained then, where Tracy would find the spare key, what furniture was moving where, and how the new furniture should be arranged in the master bedroom. Once the details had been discussed, Natalia thanked Tracy several times over, for being so willing to pinch-hit for her during their absence—both at the Beacon, and now in this personal matter. Tracy said she was happy to help in any way she could. With that, they ended their call, and Natalia moved on to call Lawrence, and then get back in touch with Mr. Davis, to finalize the delivery. Not a bad morning's work, Natalia thought, for a woman who was still lounging in bed. And by weeks' end, she and Olivia would be lounging in their own bed, in their farmhouse, where Natalia prayed Olivia would finally be ready to be with her completely.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009… The Beacon—7:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Activity at the front desk was bustling, even more so than usual, as Tuesday morning launched into action. Guests and employees alternately interacted and dodged, depending upon their agenda. Tracy had been slammed since the moment she walked in, and had barely had more than a moment to fill Jen in on Natalia's request. At the moment, she was busily handling early checkouts, while Bryce, who had already arranged half a dozen excursions to various tourists' attractions, attained information for a rather impatient young man with an attitude that needed adjusting. He was courteous to the man, but his patience was wearing thin.
It had already been a long week for Jen, who had agreed to take the helm in Olivia's absence. "Training under fire," Olivia had called it, in jest. But she had no doubts Jen could handle whatever fires came her way. And oh, had they ever! Not just small fires, but blazing infernos.
There had been a major misunderstanding between the florist and the designers during setup for a wedding reception on Saturday afternoon. The reception was for none other than the youngest daughter of the local Congresswoman—a woman whose support could make or break Olivia's plans for expansion of the Beacon in Oakdale and Chicago, as well as the side-project she had planned on Chicago's South Side. And though issues with banquets, receptions, and the like officially fell under Gregg's domain, somehow he had managed to drop the ball. Luckily, Jen was there to resolve the issues, ensuring that the event went off without a hitch.
Sunday afternoon brought issues with the reservations for a convention of therapists who specialized in anger management. Unfortunately for Jen, they weren't very adept at managing their own anger, leaving her to wonder how well they fared with their clients. She left the Beacon with a splitting headache, and a strong need for a stiff drink; thankful that they weren't substance abuse experts.
And then there was the whole debacle with the transportation arrangements for a group of businessmen who were in town to meet with the Mayor—a major deal that would be a total coup for Doris, and ultimately Olivia as well, if all worked out in their favor. Transportation issues fell under Lawrence's charge; but conveniently, his pager and cell phone were out of commission, leaving him unreachable late Sunday evening. Again, Jen was left to resolve the issues, post-haste; ensuring that the Mayor's early-morning meeting would bode well for Olivia. Or perhaps not.
Monday morning brought the Mayor's meeting, which set off a course of events that would color the entire day. Doris's demands, and her incessant threats to call Olivia if they weren't met, incited a hodge-podge of squabbles between employees at Watershed. The minor squabbles were chased by an all-out screaming match as the discontented disposition seeped into the kitchen, culminating in a major blow-up between Chef Jacques and his Sous-Chef, Dario, who was as hot-headed as his mentor. They barked back and forth, exchanging acerbic barbs—Jacques in French, Dario in Italian—neither of them understanding a single word spat by the other; yet both completely comprehending the implied sentiment. By the time Jen reached the kitchen, they were launching pots and pans filled with food. Expensive food. Food meant to feed the Mayor and her prospective business associates. Releasing a heavy sigh, she set to work, bringing the explosive situation under control.
Leaving the kitchen after negotiating a truce between the two temperamental men, Jen sank into the booth at the back of the restaurant, burying her head in her hands.
By the time Tuesday morning rolled around, she was at her wits end; thoroughly regretting her agreement to take charge. Not really, of course—she appreciated the trust Olivia had placed in her, and the opportunity to prove herself. Now that she had seen firsthand what Olivia dealt with on a daily basis, she had a newfound respect for the hotelier.
She was poring over the report from the night audit—an audit that, of course, didn't balance, when the unthinkable happened.
"Babe?" Jen was drawn from her thoughts by the sound of Tracy's voice.
The soft, tentative nature of Tracy's tone immediately caught Jen's attention. And when she met Tracy's gaze, the expression in those dark eyes did little to assuage Jen's rising concern. "What is it, Honey?"
"There's uh, there's someone here to see you," Tracy announced, her voice trembling. Glancing behind her, she quietly closed the office door, as if trying to keep the visitor at bay.
Jen couldn't fathom who this mysterious visitor might be. She was on her feet and across the room in an instant. "You're really scaring me here, Trace," she said, anxiousness in her tone. "What's going on?"
It was mere moments later when the answer to that question turned their world completely upside down…
Tuesday, April 28, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—8:30 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
After breakfast, Olivia and Lena were shooed off to the living room by their partners, who had plans to attend to without the two of them underfoot. Lena chuckled at the prospect of being so easily dismissed. Olivia, of course, wanted to know what they were up to.
"Oh, just… go read your paper," Natalia had said, as she ushered a resistant Olivia toward the door.
"My paper is on my desk at the Beacon," Olivia argued, unsuccessfully.
"Then borrow Lena's," Natalia insisted. "Just go." She snapped her fingers.
Turning abruptly, Olivia pulled Natalia tightly against her. "I love it when you get bossy," she said, with a mischievous grin.
The corner of Natalia's mouth twisted upward. "That's always nice to hear," she said, pressing a kiss to Olivia's lips, "but I'm still not gonna tell you what we're up to."
Olivia groaned, and Natalia kissed her again. "Now go," she insisted, with a playful shove against Olivia's chest. "I'll bring you both some coffee."
And so Olivia went.
Working their way through another pot of coffee, Olivia and Lena finished the conversation that had been interrupted earlier that morning. They covered several topics germane to Zach's visit, while skillfully avoiding the most difficult ones until they became inevitable.
And then a comment from Olivia brought the most painful topic to the surface, tossing them into an unrelenting abyss. Lena wondered aloud how Olivia's experience with Jeffrey, and the birth of Ava, had affected her in the wake of her second pregnancy and the untimely death of Alex. In response, Olivia surmised that giving up Alex's baby caused her to bury the truth about Ava's conception and birth even deeper, locking it away in the dark recesses of her memory until years later.
"Why didn't you tell me what you were going through, Olivia?" Lena sounded sad for what her friend had been through all those years ago. "I understand not telling me about Jeffrey and Ava back then—you weren't ready to deal with what he did to you. But why didn't you tell me about your son?"
Shrugging, Olivia sighed softly. "There were others whose pain was far greater than mine," she said, simply.
Lena closed her eyes, steadying herself. "You know, don't you—about my first pregnancy," she said, protectively spreading her hand across her abdomen. It wasn't a question.
Olivia nodded her head solemnly. "Your mother told me. She shouldn't have, but—"
"No, no—," Lena protested, shaking her head. "She did what she thought was best."
"Paulina was there for me when I really needed her, Lena," Olivia acknowledged. "She helped me protect my son from Michael."
"I know. I think it was her way of making up for not being able to do the same for me," Lena said, understandingly.
"Tell me about it?" Olivia gently cracked the door, hoping Lena would finally share that part of her past. It was something they both needed—to share the parts that had been so long-hidden.
Dark eyes focused on the fringe at the edge of a throw pillow, as finally, she opened up about things she had only ever told Bianca. "The way Michael conditioned me, I felt as though there was nothing innately good about me. I was nothing, Olivia. Nothing but his corporate whore, you know? There to fuck when he wanted an easy piece. And there to fuck other men and women, to do his bidding, whenever he saw fit."
Tears clouded jade eyes filled with empathy, as Olivia nodded.
"And then I got pregnant, and even though it was his child, I felt like… like I finally had something good in me, you know? I felt whole, for the first time since I met him. And… a huge part of me died when he ripped my baby from my body." Even after all these years, Lena had to force herself not to break down at the memory of her unborn child. "Mama knew the same thing would happen to you, if he ever found out you were carrying a Cambias heir. So, with Alex dead, the safest thing to do was to help you hide your son."
Olivia reached out, gently touching Lena's hand. "I'm so sorry for all your pain, Lena," she said, empathetically. "I wish I had known back then… You wouldn't have felt so alone."
"I couldn't bear to tell anyone, Olivia. I felt guilty, and… so, so ashamed," Lena quietly shared.
"But… you didn't do anything wrong," Olivia reasoned, supportively.
"I know that now. But back then…" Lena shook her head and shrugged, almost helplessly.
Olivia nodded. She understood.
"I only ever told Mama because I developed an infection afterward, and she had to take me to hospital." Lena swallowed hard. "Michael's so-called 'doctor' wasn't much of a stickler for antiseptic, and knowing what I know now…" She sighed. She couldn't go to that place. Not now. This was about Olivia, and there would be plenty of time for other truths later. "I'm just… I'm glad Mama stepped in to help you."
As if she were sensing the disquiet in her Mama's voice, Alexandria, who had been playing quietly in the floor between them, glanced up at Lena. Quickly, she found her purchase, ambling over to her, allowing her Mama to pick her up.
Lena kissed the baby's cheek. "Kocham cię, Little Bear," she murmured against the baby's ear, telling her how much she loved her as she hugged her close.
Olivia hadn't missed the hesitation in Lena's voice in her earlier comment. Nor had she missed the expression on her face as she hugged the child in her arms. She knew there was far more to the story; but she trusted that it would all be shared in time. Lena was a lot like her in that way—she talked when the time was right—and thus, Olivia moved on to other things that needed to be discussed. "How long have you known about my son?"
"Just since the other day, after I called to tell you Zach wanted to see you," Lena answered. "Mama warned me it was a bad idea, and when I pressed her about her reasoning, she decided it was best that we get all the secrets on the table."
"She didn't tell Alex, did she?" Olivia sounded panicked.
Lena shook her head. "That's yours to tell," she asserted, "and I… I think you should know everything before you make your decision."
"What else is there to know?" Wariness was setting in.
"A lot, actually," Lena replied. Alexandria grew restless, and Lena set her back down on the floor. Leaning forward, she clasped her hands in front of her. "But before I get into all of that, I need to apologize to you."
"For what?" Olivia was clueless.
"If I had known about your son, about what you'd been through, I wouldn't have been so flippant when I told you Alex was alive," Lena explained. "I'm so sorry for that. I would never want to hurt you."
"How could you have known, Lena?" Olivia attempted to reason. "I kept the truth from you, and I asked your mother to do the same."
"I know you don't hold it against me, but I still want you to know that I'm sorry." Lena's voice was soft and sincere.
Olivia offered her a slight smile. "It's forgotten, okay?"
Lena nodded her head. "Thank you." She sighed heavily then, ready to dive into the deep end. But before she could, there was a knock at the door. She offered her a rueful smile. "Excuse me," she begged pardon, "I'll be right back."
Opening the door, she found Zach on the other side. He was early. Really early. But still, she was happy to see him. She smiled up at him, welcoming him with open arms; even as Olivia literally froze in her seat at first sight of him.
He looked relaxed; comfortable in his casual jeans, Red Wings jersey, and sneakers. A touch of gray teased at his temples, where it peeked out from beneath his Red Wings cap. His hair was just a bit shorter than she remembered, but that didn't stop the ends from showing their natural curl. And he still sported that scruffy five o'clock shadow, even in the morning. Her chest ached, and she felt the sting of unshed tears gathering behind her eyes as she watched him.
He greeted Lena with a warm hug and a kiss to the cheek, as he stepped inside. "Thanks for allowing the visit," he said, with gruff sincerity. His voice was low, but distinguishable enough that Alexandria heard him. Immediately, she began toddling in his direction; that partially-toothless grin on her face.
"It was Olivia's call," Lena acknowledged.
"Still, y'know—" His voice was husky, as he shrugged a bit sheepishly. After he resurfaced as Zach Slater, Lena told Alex how hard Olivia had taken his death—how she left school, simply disappearing for months. And how completely different she was—cold, hard, sullen—upon her return. He knew he didn't deserve to be pardoned for what he had done, and Olivia had had every right to refuse his visit. She owed him nothing. He owed her… more than he even realized. And he was thankful that she had agreed to see him.
Jordan, who had also heard his voice, sailed into the room, as if floating on air. "Daddy! Daddy!" she squealed, excitedly, as she scurried toward him, arms raised.
Never one to be left out, Alex dropped to her knees, launching into a crawl—it was faster than walking. "DaDa-DaDa!" she babbled, hands and knees slapping against the hardwood floor, as she made a beeline for him, as well.
Stunned into silence by what she had just heard, Olivia's mouth dropped wide open, as her heart lurched in her chest.
TBC...