Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimers and other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia, Emma, and Sam Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Doris, Ashlee, Berry, and Bob Wolfe, Phillip and Alan Spaulding, and Buzz and Frank Cooper are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera, Bianca Montgomery, and Michael Cambias belong to ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters of Jennifer, Tracy, Jacob and Dylan Jackson-Morgan and their extended family, Detective Sargent Langston Malloy, Attorney Danika Kováč, Gwen Matthews, Judge Bennett Thomas, Judge Dalton Graham, Jake and Preston Morgan, Diane and Toni Martin, and Jordan and Lexie Montgomery-Kundera are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. With the exception of Company, the dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
All errors are the sole responsibility of this author, as this update has not been edited. A significant portion of this content was pieced together over the course of a single weekend. Not my usual style, but some of my ancillary characters were speaking to me, desperate to tell their stories, and so I simply followed their lead. I hope y'all enjoy where they took me.
Rating: This section of Chapter 14 is rated R for some mild sexual content because, well… I wouldn't want my 13-year-old niece to read it. Call me overprotective, but I don't think she needs any ideas just yet. LOL
Regards—
Kimberly
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."
— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)
"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."
Unknown
Chapter 14.23 – Trials and Tribulations:
Friday, June 19, 2009… Judge Bennett Thomas's Chambers, Springfield Courthouse—11:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Bennett Thomas leaned back into the thick cushioning of her high-back leather chair, a weary sigh escaping her slightly parted lips. Reticent to open the thick manila folder in her hands, it felt like an ominous lead weight, bearing down with impossible force. Not unlike other files she had handled in the past, its contents held the power to either make, or break, a family. But this one was intrinsically different—it was a family who mattered to Doris. And ethical or not, that made it matter more to her.
It was not lost on her, the slippery slope that loomed ahead. She wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps this was reminiscent of the path traversed by many other Springfield civil servants who now found themselves embroiled in the hotbed of organized crime. After all, all it took was one small favor for the wrong "friend," and then one's choices ceased to be their own. Last night had proven that, in spades.
She thought of Doris, of the choices she would face that day, and the toll those choices might take on her—not only as the Mayor of their great city, but also as a woman who was slow to trust, and whose trust had now been broken in such an unconscionable way. How had things gone so very wrong? she wondered. But she already knew, of course, because he had told her only moments after swearing her to secrecy. Had she been wrong to agree?
In reality, it mattered very little now. Doris was already angry. And rightly so, Bennett granted. She'd had the power to lessen the blow, and she'd chosen to keep her word to him, instead. So much for complete honesty in their newly-revived relationship, she chastised inwardly. Doris would forgive her, of course. She always did, no matter how Bennett had failed her. But Bennett had promised to never again be the source of her pain.
Yet here they were—Doris hurting, and Bennett the ancillary cause.
She cursed under her breath, condemning herself. If only she had bargained with him a little, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps Doris wouldn't be hurting—at least not as much. She couldn't do anything to change what he had done; but she hadn't needed to make things worse by keeping something so devastating from the person she loved. Of course, he hadn't a clue as to the enormity of what he was asking. But that wasn't an excuse either. It was, in fact, yet another reason why she and Doris needed to come clean about their relationship.
Again, she sighed.
Ultimately realizing this line of thought was getting her nowhere, she cast it aside by the sheer force of her will, and turned her attention back to the file folder in her hands. She was set to revisit the Morgan custody case in her courtroom in less than an hour, and there was much to consider, especially in light of the recent charges filed against Preston Morgan. It simply wouldn't do for her to appear in court without ample understanding of the case as it currently stood.
The faultless fabric of her black linen trousers quietly rustled as she crossed her legs, right over left, settling herself in the deep recesses of her chair. With one sleek hand, she smoothed out wrinkles that didn't exist—a means of avoidance; though if called on it, she would deny the accusation.
Noting that the court file had expanded considerably in the forty-eight hours since Tracy Jackson's arrest, Bennett wondered again as to the nature of its contents. She knew from an earlier conversation with her judicial assistant Andrea, that the bulk of new content involved the investigation into the charges that had been lodged against the young woman. But true to nature, the detached expression on Andrea's face revealed nothing as she delivered the file, accompanied by her customary brief overview. It was no wonder the girl was such a whiz at poker! Bennett mused. It had always amused her, knowing that her young assistant had paid her way through college via illegal back-room poker tournaments. C'est la vie.
Setting thoughts of Andrea aside, Bennett focused on the case at hand, and her thoughts turned to the family she would be meeting with in just a few brief minutes. Would it be good news for them… or bad?
Her gut told her that Jennifer Morgan's fiancée was innocent. But she wasn't elected to follow her gut. She was elected to uphold the law. And she needed to know the current status of the department's investigation on this young woman before she could make any sort of ruling with regard to the best interests of the Morgan children.
There was no time like the present, she supposed, to assuage her growing curiosity and concern.
Finally, she opened the file, delving in with razor-sharp attention. With slow deliberation, a long, slender index finger with a perfectly manicured nail traced along the printed lines, following them to where they dangled mid-thought at the far right, bottom corner of the page. Then, slipping beneath the sharp edges to expose the next fact-rich page, she continued on, as one-by-one, she reviewed the documents with keen interest.
Page after page that familiar Times New Roman font dotted thick sheets of pristine white paper, dirtying it with secrets, new and old. There were witness statements—several of them, in fact; including one from Doris's daughter, Ashlee, about the alleged incident that night at the frat party. And there were statements regarding the incident instigated by Diane Martin against Tracy Jackson at Company a few months prior, as well. Strange, how so many cases were coalescing together, Bennett thought.
And then there was Phillip Spaulding's statement—the one indicating that Diane Martin had confessed to conspiring against Tracy Jackson at the behest of one Preston Morgan. Not that it had taken much to convince her. She'd hated the girl for years, and she chomped at the bit at a chance to attain retribution for her daughter; despite the fact that Tracy had done nothing to the girl.
Spaulding's testimony led Bennett straight into the next fact of interest—the full and formal recanting of Toni Martin's original testimony. Surprisingly, it was accompanied by a statement of remorse for any harm she may have caused. Her mother had forced her into filing the false charges, it seemed; though the girl didn't seem to know exactly what her mother's interests were in the situation. Diane Martin, of course, certainly hadn't provided any information that would shed light on things either. Regardless, they had both been arrested for filing a false police report, and now languished together in a holding cell at Police Headquarters. Given the flurry of arrests in both the police department and the courthouse, Bennett doubted they would see a judge before the following Monday; illegal as that may have been.
Turning her thoughts away from the mother and daughter, Bennett focused again on the contents of the file. The alleged victim's recanting of her initial testimony aside, the most compelling piece of information was the fact that one of their highly esteemed criminal court judges had seen fit to drop all charges against Tracy Jackson—a decision that was backed up by the recommendations of Detective Sergeant Langston Malloy, and Director of DCFS, Gwen Matthews.
She didn't want to know what kind of political maneuvering, or outright scheming, had taken place to get such a ruling from the judge at what was apparently the ass-crack of dawn. Ignorance, especially in this case, was absolute bliss. The dismissal of charges, in and of itself, was enough for her to lift the order of protection, filed in her court, keeping Tracy Morgan away from her children. If she could do nothing else in terms of this case today, at least she could reunite this young family.
A dense weight lifted noticeably from her chest upon the realization. But she was certain she could find grounds to do much more. And the answer, she believed, could be found in the laundry-list of charges filed against Preston Morgan. Leaning forward, she clicked through several screens on her computer, searching with sharp eyes for the information she needed. Finally, locating the electronic file on the downfallen financier, she pressed the print key, and watched as the machine on the sidearm of her desk began spitting out documents.
Gathering them up, she organized them as quickly as possible, and then began the practiced skill of skimming for most prudent details—something she and Doris had become quite adept at during their years in law school. To this day, neither of them had ever met a law student who managed to read all of the content required of them. They doubted they ever would.
Bennett was halfway through the pile of documentation when her attention was drawn to a light tapping on her door. Glancing up, the corners of her mouth twisted into a soft smile. Doris was dressed in a perfectly tailored gray silk suit, black heels, and a pale blue blouse that brought out the deep blue of her eyes. Bennett's heart stopped, and when she finally recovered her breath, she fought back a blush. "Hi," she greeted softly.
"Hi," Doris said sheepishly, as she lingered in the doorway. She was hesitant after her rash display of temper that morning.
"Come in," Bennett motioned. "Close the door."
Pushing the heavy wooden door closed behind her, Doris gingerly set the lock, so as not to draw attention to the fact. And then she turned toward Bennett, making her way across the thickly padded carpeting. Just watching her walk caused Bennett's body to hum. She forced her gaze upward, where it met swirling pools of blue uncertainty.
Bennett waited expectantly.
"So, I spoke with Bob this morning," Doris announced finally, as she sidled her way around Bennett's desk, settling a shapely hip against the edge. Her leg brushed lightly against Bennett's calf, causing an unbidden heat to rise in the judge's belly.
Willfully, Bennett tamped down her arousal, wondering how in hell she had managed to keep her wild attraction, her fierce desire, for this woman a secret for so many years. "Oh?" She sounded curious, but not eagerly so. "And what did he say?" she asked in the calmest voice she could muster.
"He told me the truth," Doris answered. "It took some coercing, of course, because he was afraid of compromising me. But he told me the truth about his involvement in this mess."
"I'm glad," Bennett said softly. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, thankful that she no longer needed to keep anything from her lover. Reaching out, she smoothed a gentle hand across Doris's knee; a simple act of comfort and support.
"And… he admitted that he begged you not to tell me," Doris added, as she pressed her hand lightly over Bennett's, squeezing gently. She paused for a beat, looking quite remorseful with her head hung low, pain rippling in those deep blue eyes. "I'm sorry, BJ."
"Sorry for what, Darling?" Bennett asked, benevolently. Doris Wolfe hated to be wrong. But even more than she hated actually being wrong, she hated having to admit it. Bennett saw no reason to make things harder on the woman she loved—especially now, with the world crumbling down around her, both professionally… and personally.
Doris knew it was a rhetorical question. Bennett's smile upon her entry into the office told her that her angry outburst had been all but forgotten the moment she slammed the bathroom door. But still, she felt terrible for the way she had acted. "You didn't deserve my outburst this morning," she said simply.
"No, I didn't," Bennett quietly agreed. "But you didn't deserve to have your brother topple the entire structure of the Springfield PD by getting involved in organized crime, either," she stated matter-of-factly. "I think I can let this morning slide."
"You are far too forgiving of me," Doris asserted.
"No," Bennett said, shaking her head. "Not in comparison to the things I've done to you in the past."
"Our past is no longer on the table," Doris said decisively. Her eyes flashed with an intensity that brooked no dispute.
Bennett nodded, accepting the declaration. "Understood."
Doris crossed her arms, releasing a heavy sigh that unexpectedly billowed up from deep within her lungs. "What am I going to do, BJ?" she asked, almost helplessly. "He's the fucking Police Commissioner!"
"He's placed you in a terribly compromising position," Bennett commented empathically.
Doris simply nodded. The comment was comforting, given that it had been spoken by Bennett. Still, it was a vast understatement. And they both knew it.
"Do you have anyone on the force capable of taking his place?"
"Well, I would say Barry," Doris answered, speaking of her cousin, the Chief of Police. "But apparently he's up to his eyeballs in this bullshit, as well."
"I heard," Bennett sighed. She glanced up at Doris, gauging her level of stress. "I'm sorry, Darling."
Doris sighed in response. "Yeah," she said. "Me too."
"What about your Chief of Detectives?" Bennett posed. She searched her memory for a name. "Cooper, isn't it?"
Visibly rattled, Doris pushed away from Bennett's desk abruptly. "Not on his fucking life," she seethed.
"What?" Bennett's tone was an amalgam of surprise and confusion. "Why?"
Doris began to pace, almost erratically. "He's been out of control lately," she reported.
"How so?" Bennett inquired.
"Well, drunken binges resulting in driving under the influence, for one thing," Doris answered with a sigh of disgust.
"Ooh," Bennett winced, as if in pain.
"He doesn't know that I know, of course," Doris was saying. "And the only reason he hasn't been caught outright is because Olivia and Rafe—he's Natalia's son," she added, in explanation, "protected his sorry ass by making sure he got home safely."
"Why would they protect him?" Bennett asked. And then a realization set in. "Oh, my God, he's the father of Natalia's baby." It wasn't a question.
"Yes…"
"Whoa," Bennett said softly. "I hadn't put the pieces together until just now."
Running a hand across the top of the smooth leather guest chair that sat opposite of Bennett's desk, Doris turned to her. "Not only is he acting like an infantile jackass, he's making their lives a living hell."
"I take it he's not too keen on their relationship," Bennett said, understatedly.
"That's putting it mildly," Doris snorted.
"Maybe a promotion would give him something else to focus on," Bennett suggested with a shrug. "Take his mind off of what he can't have."
Stopping in her tracks, Doris turned toward her, the expression on her face completely indecipherable. Bennett's breath caught, as she awaited Doris's response. It was several moments before the response came, and even then, Doris wondered at the wisdom of her own words.
Friday, June 19, 2009… Olivia's Office, the Beacon—11:15 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"I just don't understand why you have to be so hard on Phillip," Natalia said, as she closed Olivia's office door, shielding them from the outside world. It wasn't a criticism, so much as it was a comment, but still, she braced herself for a little backlash. They had just come from the meeting with Jen and Tracy and their attorneys—the meeting that Phillip had crashed—and Natalia's take on Phillip's actions were once again in direct opposition to Olivia's point-of-view. She was beginning to wonder if they would ever see eye-to-eye where he was concerned.
"I don't trust him, Natalia," Olivia snapped. She wasn't angry with Natalia; just stressed. Their recent interaction had left her feeling even more on edge where he was concerned, and she couldn't quite figure out why. "How many times do I have to explain that to you?"
It was a rhetorical question, and Natalia knew it. But that didn't stop her from responding. "I know, Honey. I know," she said, with a light brush of her hand along Olivia's arm. That simple touch was enough to calm the tense hotelier to a more reasonable level of irritation. "And I understand why you don't trust him. But I really think he's trying to help Jen and Tracy."
Snapping her finger, Olivia turned on her heel. "You see?" she countered, her tone sharper than intended. "That's how he gets to you. That's how he does it, Natalia. He throws out that olive branch—acts like 'Mister Nice Guy,' gets you to trust him, and then… BAM! The truth behind his intentions hits you out of nowhere, and you're left sitting there wondering what the hell happened to you, and how you could be such a complete fucking fool to have ever trusted him in the first place. You begin to doubt yourself; to doubt your own judgment. And once he starts with his rationalizations, you begin to believe you actually deserved it, and perhaps even that it was your own fault," she said, revealing an even deeper side to her pain where Phillip Spaulding was concerned.
Natalia's heart ached for her, and she wanted to reach out. But Olivia was pacing now, her agitation increasing yet again. "How do you think he got all that information out of Diane Martin?" she posed, as she continued wearing a hole in the carpeting. "He sure as hell didn't do it by being honest with her."
Or had he?
That was a question to which Olivia had no answer. And if she were honest with herself, she didn't really want one.
"But he seemed truly genuine with Jen and Tracy this morning," Natalia argued futilely. Perhaps she was just too trusting.
Olivia turned toward her, jade eyes dark—a swirling amalgam of anger and hurt. "He sounded truly genuine when he told me he loved me, too," she said, coolly. "And we all know how that turned out."
Natalia's heart wrenched in her chest, aching for her, for the pain she had endured at Phillip's hands. This time, she didn't hesitate in reaching out to her. "That doesn't mean he wasn't being truthful when he said it, Liv," she quietly countered, as her hands swept gently down smooth, toned arms, grasping Olivia's hands into her own. "People change. Feelings change."
Ordinarily, Olivia's insecurities would have gotten the best of her after a statement like that. She would have worried that perhaps Natalia's feelings might change someday. After all, everyone else's had. Every damned person she ever loved, save her daughters and her brother Sam, had changed their mind and left her. But she knew better than that with Natalia. Natalia was rock-solid, and Olivia's insecurities ceased to rear their ugly heads.
The fact that Olivia hadn't reacted to that comment wasn't lost on Natalia either. She knew what it meant—the hotelier was completely secure in their relationship. Her heart skipped a beat, knowing that had never been the case in Olivia's past. Gently, she squeezed Olivia's arm. "The fact that we're together is living proof of that," she said with affection.
Olivia couldn't help the smile that teased at her lips. "We are, aren't we," she said, more statement than question.
"Yes," Natalia confirmed. "We are." She was quiet for a moment, and then she met Olivia's gaze again. "And I, for one, am kind of glad things didn't work out with Phillip."
The puzzled expression on Olivia's face begged the question, and Natalia was quick to respond.
"If they had, I wouldn't have you. Just like you wouldn't have Emma if you hadn't loved Phillip," she quietly reasoned. "And from where I'm sitting, she's worth it all."
Olivia's gaze softened at the mention of her little girl's name. She sank down into her desk chair, settling in. "Yes," she sighed, a slight smile toying at her lips. "Yes, she is. And I wouldn't undo one moment that resulted in her. But I wish I could erase all the rest," she added ruefully.
"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," Natalia reminded unnecessarily.
A long sigh fell from Olivia's lips. "I know."
Natalia eased herself into Olivia's lap, draping her arms around Olivia's neck. "Maybe we can't erase the past, but we can make new memories. You and me, and our children."
A warm smile filled Olivia's face. "Yes," she readily agreed. And then she kissed Natalia lightly on the lips. "We certainly can." She sounded excited by the prospect, and it was infectious.
Natalia's face lit up in response, and she kissed Olivia again. This time, the kiss lingered until they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Breathless, they groaned in unison at the intrusion, and then Natalia turned her head toward the sound.
"Come in," she said, not having to guess who was there. Lena and Bianca were due to arrive any moment.
The door burst open before Natalia even finished her greeting, and Jordan came barreling through, full steam ahead. "Where's my Emma?" she asked, her head full of soft dark curls bouncing excitedly.
"Jordan!" Bianca exclaimed, before offering a sheepish apology to Olivia and Natalia. Shuffling Lexie onto her right hip, she chased after her overly-enthusiastic elder daughter.
Olivia and Natalia laughed heartily. That child was an absolute delight.
"No worries," Natalia reassured, as she stood from Olivia's lap. "Emma's just as excited. We practically had to sedate her to get her to sleep last night."
Bianca laughed softly at the comment. Oh, how she could relate! Though, it was often Lexie who needed sedation, more so than Jordan. Lexie would often stand upright in her crib for hours on end after being put to bed for the night, refusing to even lie down, let alone allow sleep to claim her. The further Lena's pregnancy progressed, the less effect breast-feeding the child before bed seemed to have, and now they were at a point where neither of them really knew what to do. The pediatrician told them not to worry, of course. "She'll sleep if she's tired enough," she said. But that did very little to actually stop the worrying. But that was an issue for another time, Bianca thought, as she turned her attention back to their friends.
Rising from her seat, Olivia embraced Bianca, offering a warm greeting in her ear. Lexie squealed between them, causing both women to laugh. And then the child went willing into Olivia's arms, legs kicking excitedly, dimples abloom.
Shaking her head, Bianca just smiled, and counted her blessings. She couldn't believe how quickly Lexie had taken to both Olivia and Natalia. It wasn't like the child at all. Ordinarily, she preferred to be left to her own devices, and she didn't go to strangers at all. That was yet another constant display of her youngest daughter's independent spirit, and as much as it frustrated Bianca at times, she also adored that part of her child.
Jordan, on the other hand, had never met a stranger. She loved everyone. All the time. And she always wanted to be involved with whatever was going on. That was never more obvious than in the present moment. "Where is she, Auntie Talia?" Jordan was asking of Emma, as she tugged insistently at Natalia's skirt.
Crouching down to the little girl's level, Natalia met Jordan's gaze. "She's at home with Rafe."
"Who's Rafe?" Jordan crinkled her nose. This name was strange to her.
"He's our son," Olivia answered warmly. She tousled Jordan's curls ever so slightly in a warm show of affection, even as she delighted in having Lexie's chubby arms wrapped around her neck. The more time she spent with Lena and Bianca's children, the more she was looking forward to having another little one of their own.
Natalia's heart fluttered. Our son, she thought. She would never tire of hearing Olivia referring to him as theirs.
"Oh," Jordan said, with a furrowed brow. "How come I never met him before?" She sounded skeptical.
"Well," Natalia ventured. "He was away the last time you were here to visit."
"Where did he go?" Jordan asked curiously.
"Jordan—," Bianca said, sounding stern.
"Sorry, Mommy," Jordan frowned. Once again, too many questions had gotten her a scolding; even if it was a mild one. But she was curious! Always. She peered up at her mother, and then met Natalia's gaze with a quizzical expression in her own dark eyes. "Are you going to ask me if I'm writing a book?"
Olivia bit back a laugh, as Natalia chuckled. "No, Sweetie."
Grinning, Bianca met Natalia's gaze. "She's our inquisitive one," she offered, by way of explanation.
Natalia laughed. "Just as Emma is ours," she related. And then she stepped over toward Bianca, enveloping her in a warm hug. "It's so good to see you again."
Hugging Natalia in return, Bianca couldn't help but smile. "And you as well," she said warmly. "You look fabulous. Pregnancy agrees with you."
Blushing just slightly, Natalia smiled. "Thank you," she said. "You're looking wonderful, yourself."
"Thanks," Bianca grinned.
Olivia threw Lena a wry smile. "What are we, chopped liver?" she muttered.
"Apparently so," Lena replied dryly.
Bianca glanced at Natalia, as she wrapped an arm around her wife. "I think our partners are feeling a bit insecure this afternoon," she teased. Her gaze falling on Lena then, she pulled her close. "Pregnancy looks fabulous on you too, Baby," she said. And then she nuzzled against Lena's ear, "I should think you would know that by now, seeing as I can't keep my hands off of you."
Lena's face flushed into a deep rose, and Olivia laughed.
Pulling Natalia close against her side, Olivia met Bianca's gaze. "I have the same problem with this one," she said teasingly. "Can't keep my hands to myself."
"You won't hear any complaints from me," Natalia said boldly.
Olivia grinned. "Didn't imagine that I would," she said cockily.
A playful tap accompanied a pointed look, and Olivia knew she'd best behave. "So… what do you and Bianca have planned for this afternoon?" she asked, skillfully changing the subject.
"Well, I thought we would take the girls to the pool for a bit, and then head back to the farmhouse to get started on Rafe's birthday dinner," Natalia answered. "Dinner at seven," she added, locking gazes with Olivia. "Don't be late."
"No worries, Natalia," Lena said nonchalantly. "We should be finished with business and on our way home before five."
"Perfect," Natalia declared.
Olivia glanced at her watch, noting that it was a little after eleven. "Why don't we all grab a quick lunch at Watershed," she suggested. "Our presentation is ready to go, so we have a little time before the meeting."
"Sounds great," Lena readily agreed. "We had a nice breakfast on the flight, but I'm still famished. Ridiculous, I know," she added ruefully.
Natalia laughed, and rubbed her expanding belly. "I can relate."
Catching Bianca's gaze, Olivia's eyes twinkled with mischief, an impish grin tickling at her lips. "What do you say, Bianca? Shall we feed our ravenous mamas before they waste away?" she asked with a teasing lilt that earned her an admonishing glance from Natalia.
Olivia simply laughed it off, and gave Natalia a gentle squeeze with her free arm.
"I say we shall," Bianca agreed with a grin. She motioned toward Jordan, who offered her own dimpled grin in response. And then promptly, she slipped her hand into Natalia's, letting her mother know she preferred to walk with her Auntie Talia.
A warm smile accompanied Bianca's nod of approval. She reached for her wife's hand, taking it into her own. Their fingers entangled spontaneously, and she wondered if that tingling sensation she felt upon their every touch would ever cease to amaze her.
A moment later, she tossed the thought aside, branding it "ridiculous." She was certain that it wouldn't. And with a grateful heart, she led the way from Olivia's office, heading down the corridor toward Watershed, her newfound family members following closely behind with her daughters safely in their care.
Friday, June 19, 2009… Squad Room, Springfield Police Department—12:15 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Detective Sergeant Langston Malloy leaned forward in her desk chair, the rickety old relic squealing in protest as she moved. A familiar sound, borne of years of wear, with little, if any, maintenance, it was comforting to her, in a way. And though the padding was a far cry from the opulent dark leather of the guest chair she had occupied in Judge Dalton Graham's chambers just four hours ago, she didn't mind in the least. It felt like home.
She laughed deprecatingly to herself at that thought, wondering, not for the first time, whether that was the reason she'd never found a stable relationship since moving to Springfield. But she knew better. It wasn't the job that had kept her from seeking out the company of another. It was the woman she'd left behind in Chicago.
In less than two days, Danika Kováč had managed to unravel every delicate thread of peace Langston had painstakingly weaved together over the past three years. That dream had lingered with her long after she left her bed, taunting her even as she walked into the judge's chambers alongside Gwen later that morning. Hell, it haunted her still!
Fuck Dani—and the fucking case she rode in on.
Despite herself, Langston couldn't get her mind off of the maddening woman—or what had happened as a result of that dream just a few short hours ago. Not that getting off in the shower had done her any good, whatsoever. She was still hard… congested… and in desperate need of relief. It reminded her of another time, oh so many years ago, when life was simple, and her heart was free.
Shifting in her seat, she groaned, powerless to stave off yet another sharp flash of arousal, as unbidden memories flooded her conscious thoughts, taking her back to their younger years—to a time when such experiences were full of discovery, of wonder, and all had seemed right with the world. Annoyed as she was by the woman's intrusion into her peaceful cocoon of denial, she couldn't stop the amused smile that teased at the corners of her mouth as she remembered a steamy night in late August, 1989. They were nearly seventeen, hormones raging, and…
Friday, August 25, 1989… the Cabana, Langston Malloy's Childhood Home—11:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
The air outside was hot, almost to the point of turning sultry, as they emerged from the depths of the crisp cool water, breaking the surface with laser precision. The weight of the air pressed around them, clutching lungs that already burned from countless laps along the massive expanse of the pool, and they struggled in unison to catch their breath.
"Damn that felt good," Langston declared. "You really gave me a run for my money tonight."
Dani arched an eyebrow in mock challenge. "Was there ever any doubt that I would?"
Langston laughed lightly. "No, not really." She had always been competitive, but not so much so that she couldn't enjoy a little banter after enduring a good ass-kicking. It was a skill she had developed after one too many skirmishes with her older brothers on the basketball court.
Reaching for Langston, almost as if by instinct, Dani pulled her close. She grinned triumphantly, as she maneuvered them into a secluded corner. The custom-built swimming pool, complete with waterfalls and hot tubs tucked away in intimate grottoes, originated inside the house beneath a glass-encased solarium, and spanned the entire length of the back yard, stretching from the main house all the way out to the cabana.
The distance between the two dwellings ensured that the two young girls would have privacy—they always did. Long-ago, Langston had taken to practically living out in the cabana, and no one ever ventured near when soft lights flickered through the sheer lace curtains that covered the windows. Still, Langston worried that someone would catch them if they weren't careful.
Their gazes locked, as Dani pressed hard against her, and they felt the mutual arising of heat that had nothing to do with the sultry summer night. "We should probably go inside," Langston suggested on a strangled whisper.
Dani grinned. "Probably…"
Typical for August in Chicago, the heat made it difficult to breathe, despite the lateness of the hour, as they ascended the concrete steps that led to the terrace. As they entered the cabana, the cool air clashed with the closeness in their lungs and the heat that poured from their bare skin, causing goosebumps to form instantaneously. "It's fucking freezing in here!" Danika exclaimed; her slight frame shivering as water dripped from her neon pink bikini.
Grabbing a thick, white towel from the stack just inside the door, Langston grinned, almost devilishly. "Here," she said, tossing it her.
"Thanks," Dani said wryly, when the towel smacked her in the face. Snapping it open, she shook her head in amusement, and quickly patted her skin dry, not bothering with her thick mane of black curls. She was too distracted by Langston, watching intently as the other girl dried off—all the while wishing she could be that towel, traveling over that taut body.
Langston Malloy was a stunning creature any time of the day, with her long dark tresses piled around her angular face in the typical '80s fashion. But standing there, clad only in a sleek black bikini, her hair tousled and still dripping from the pool, she was absolutely breathtaking. And the best part of it was, Langston had absolutely no idea how truly magnificent she was—both inside, and out. Dani's breath caught, and she felt the unmistakable heat of arousal coalescing between her legs.
Aware that she was being watched, Langston glanced up at her, towel in her hand, as she leaned a forearm across her thigh. She had one foot propped up on an ottoman, as she meticulously soaked up the water from her smooth, tanned skin. "What?" she asked self-consciously.
"Nothing," Danika answered nonchalantly. But the smile that teased at the corners of her soft mouth told another story.
Langston smiled, having read that story with practiced ease. She tossed the towel aside, grabbing for the remote control instead.
A Top Forties mix blared from a local Chicago station on the state-of-the-art rack system that had been built in when Langston's father renovated the cabana for her three summers prior. The 80s bubble-gum pop had wafted through the outdoor speakers that surrounded the pool, dancing on the humid summer air as they swam, late into the evening.
And now, flipping a switch on the wall, Langston silenced the outdoor speakers, so as not to disturb the dwellers in the main house. The music ensconced them then, the beat pulsating as she increased the volume; and they danced, carefree, belting out the lyrics off-key, and then laughing together until their bellies practically ached from it.
When the final notes of the B-52's Love Shack gave way to T'Pau's Heart and Soul, wordlessly, they moved closer together. Dani offered that dazzling smile—the one that always wilted Langston's resolve, and stretching out a hand, she took Langston's into her own. Together, they allowed the music to surround them, suffusing their senses with the smooth, relaxed groove that belied the inherent pain of the lyrics.
Fingertips lightly connecting, and then slipping away, only to reconnect again in perfect rhythm with the music, they moved together effortlessly, their bodies never touching fully. It was a graceful, fluid dance, not inherently sexual in any way. But anyone with the gift of sight would've recognized the undeniable chemistry that sparked between them.
Soon though, the opening vocals of Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar on Me overtook the airwaves, and unwittingly, the context of their interaction took a sharp turn toward the decidedly erotic. The words echoed, gently throbbing as the initial strains of the electric guitar began to pour from the huge speakers, voices and instruments melding in perfect harmony. It was a live version of the song, and the energy permeated the room, shaking the walls around them.
Having taken a long drink of the iced tea she'd been sipping all evening, Dani set the glass down on the wet bar. She felt flushed with heat, her belly doing backflips as a rush of arousal slammed into her. Dancing with Langston always made her hot, but never more so than tonight. She swallowed hard, attempting to stifle the need that burned deep within, and turned back to Langston with an expression Langston had never before witnessed, flashing in her dark eyes.
Langston's breath caught, as Dani moved toward her again, that svelte body coiled like a feral cat, readying for a pounce. Futilely, she attempted to distract herself by focusing elsewhere. And when her gaze returned powerlessly to Dani, her eyes turned midnight blue, almost black, as they followed the tiny rivulets water that dripped from the tips of Dani's dark curls.
Meeting the beads of sweat on her skin, liquid fused, streaking along the smooth flesh of Dani's long, graceful neck. And breathless, Langston watched intently, as they slipped further down, disappearing beneath the slight fabric of Dani's bikini top. A visceral part of her wanted to be those tiny drops of liquid. Her mouth went dry at the mere thought, and she licked her lips unconsciously, as heat pulsed between her legs.
Holy Mother of God.
Another attempt at distraction drew her attention back Dani's face, where her gaze fell headlong into the wanton expression in those simmering black eyes. She knew they would kiss. They always did. But somehow she knew instinctively that this kiss would change her entire world.
Finally reaching Langston, Dani drew her close. And this time, as they moved together, their bodies were flush up against one another; breasts against breasts, nipples brushing lightly through the thin cover of their swim suit tops, while smooth, toned olive thighs slipped between their perfectly tanned, equally toned counterparts.
Mouths met, gently at first, connecting, parting, and reconnecting again, much as their fingertips had just moments earlier. But each time their mouths made the connection, their kisses became more frenzied, their tongues caressing at first; then battling for control. And by the time the song ended, their breathing was erratic; their nubile bodies burning with need.
Pulling Langston impossibly closer, Dani buried her face against her neck, her fingertips tangled in those soft, dark tresses, still slightly damp from their swim. Purposefully, she drew in a deep breath through her nose, the amalgamation of chlorine, and sweat, and Langston's own unique scent borne of shower gel and shampoo, suffusing her senses. "Do you ever touch yourself, Lang?" she breathed, lustfully, against Langston's ear.
"Huh?" Langston gasped, her body shuddering at the words. She was so startled by the question—intrigued by the mere notion—that she struggled for a coherent response.
"Do you touch yourself, you know… down there?" Dani expounded; the warmth of her mouth moving along Langston's skin, as her thigh pressed ever closer against Langston's hot center.
Suddenly nervous as hell, Langston gulped, a tremulous smile playing on her soft, expressive lips. She was already wild with need, and Dani's mouth against her skin, that probing thigh between her legs, certainly weren't helping. And neither was the wet heat she felt against her own thigh as Dani moved against her—that definitely wasn't residual water from the pool that dampened Dani's bikini bottoms! Not wanting to appear self-conscious, she put on an air of confidence she did not feel. "Sure," she said, struggling to breathe. "All the time… Don't you?"
"Yeah… I do," Dani openly confessed. And then perfect white teeth nipped at Langston's earlobe. "Do you think about me when you do it?" she asked; her voice turning low and sultry.
"What? No!" Langston denied.
Dani knew it was a lie. She could read Langston Malloy like a book—and not just any book, but a treasured novel, the pages turned soft with wear. But she said nothing, simply allowing the moment to go where it would.
And then Langston's heart lurched in her chest, eyes widening. "Why?" she asked, losing the battle with her self-consciousness. "Do you think about me?"
Dani bit her lower lip, hesitating. And then slowly, she nodded her head. "Sometimes," she admitted. "After we kiss for a really long time, I feel… excited… wet," she confessed, in a hoarse whisper. Like I am for you right now! "And I have to go… take the edge off. I think about you while I'm doing it. I think about how much I want it to be your fingers… your tongue… touching me."
Langston blinked twice, not knowing what to say.
And then her gently tanned skin flushed deeply, and her blue eyes widened in question. "Is that what you're doing when you run off to the shower on me?"
Finally, Dani's strange behavior made all the sense in the world! Every time they made out, Dani felt the need for a shower—even if they had just taken one before climbing into bed!
Busted, Dani grinned almost sheepishly. "Well, I have to do something!" she defended, emphasizing the something part. "Your kisses drive me fucking crazy!"
"Thank God!" Delivered on a sigh of relief, Langston's words told a story of long-held secret fears, and Dani was immediately engrossed.
"Why?" Dani asked gently. "Langston, what did you think I was doing?"
"I thought…" Langston swallowed hard around the lump that had formed in her throat. "I thought maybe you were washing away some kind of guilt, or something," she shrugged.
"Guilt?" Dani sounded almost indignant. "Let me tell you this, Langston Malloy… I have, we have, absolutely nothing to feel guilty about," she declared, emphasizing the plurality of their right to feel what they felt for one another.
"Our fathers would disown us, if they ever knew," Langston cautioned.
"Yes," Danika agreed, in a tone that proclaimed she didn't give a damn. "But that could never change how much I lo…"
A gentle finger fell across Dani's lips, stilling her confession. "Don't…" Langston whispered, her eyes silently pleading. She wasn't ready to hear it, and Dani understood why.
"Not saying it out loud won't make it any less true," Dani gently challenged.
"Yes, I know," Langston quietly acknowledged. "I'm just not there yet."
Gently, Dani took Langston's face into her hands, her thumbs lightly caressing soft cheeks, as she searched the depths of Langston's dark, hazy eyes; communicating without words. And then, leaning close, Dani kissed her tenderly. "I understand," she whispered. "I'll be right here waiting when you get there."
Grinning, Langston pulled her closer, an undeniable flash of desire eclipsing the dark shadows from her eyes. "So I make you crazy, huh?" Her tone was one of amusement… and something else even she couldn't quite identify.
"Uh-huh," Dani practically purred, as she nodded her head affirmatively. "I need it right now, Lang," she husked, as she slid her center against Langston's thigh with renewed purpose. "Can you feel me?"
Gulping, Langston fought for breath, her nipples growing harder where they pressed against Dani's pert, young breasts. Dani was impossibly wet, and… hard… against her thigh. "Jesus, yes…" she hissed.
"Come do it with me," Dani invited, her voice a low caress against Langston's mouth, as her fingers tightened again in Langston's hair. "In the shower… Please… I want to see you."
"I… um… I don't think that's a very good idea," Langston gasped in protest, though not very convincingly. Her body told Dani otherwise when she felt Langston's clitoris twitch as she grazed it with her thigh, not by accident. Langston grew acutely aware of her own need, begging for release.
"Why not?" Dani pressed. "It's not like we've never showered together," she reasoned. "And we've certainly spent enough time making out."
That was certainly true enough. They'd showered together since they were little girls. And as they grew older—whether in the locker room or at home—they'd grown accustomed to seeing one another in various stages of undress. They had been in closer proximity with one another, even completely naked, than either of them had ever been with anyone else, fully clothed. It had seemed only natural that day, while showering together, when Langston felt the heat of Dani's mouth against her neck and shoulder, as she gently washed Langston's back after a swim.
When she heard the soft moan of approval tumbling from Langston's lips, Dani's soap-covered hands slipped around her body, gently playing across her belly. Langston gasped softly, and turned to her then, their mouths meeting in that first, fateful kiss—the one that led to so much more as the years passed by. But in that moment, the kiss was both sultry and sweet, as the steam from the shower swirled around them. They were just shy of turning sixteen, and neither of them had ever kissed a girl before. Hell, Langston had never kissed anyone before!
Strange as it may have seemed, given the intimate milieu of their first kiss, by mutual agreement, they had taken things slowly from there. It wasn't until six months later that they began exploring one another's bodies in earnest. The first time Dani's mouth found Langston's breast, Langston thought she might actually come undone. And the first time Langston's tongue grazed the edge of Dani's nipple, causing it to pebble under the brief, gentle touch, she felt as though she'd found the eighth wonder of the world in the small cry of pleasure that tumbled from Dani's soft, kissable lips.
They spent hours sometimes, naked together in bed except for the thin fabric of their panties, kissing and caressing… but never touching one another beneath that sheer barrier that lay, unspoken, between them. And now, with the question looming between them, Langston just wasn't quite sure how she felt about changing that tacit agreement.
"I… It feels a little too much like sex, Dani," she answered, her voice quavering. "And I'm… I'm just not ready for that."
"It's not really sex, if I don't go inside—right?" Dani asked, uncertainly. There were some things they just didn't have answers for, and they didn't know where to find them.
Equally as confused, Langston simply shrugged. "Still…" she said with a hint of caution, as she shook her head.
"What if I just kiss your tits and stuff, and promise not to touch you down there?" Dani persisted.
You're already touching me. Langston gasped at the thought.
"You can touch yourself," Dani husked, her tongue lightly skimming Langston's lower lip. "And… and I can watch."
"Dani…" Langston's breath hitched in her throat, and she fought for control. Just the thought…
"Langston, please," Dani practically begged. Lightly, she nipped at Langston's lower lip, holding it between her teeth, releasing slowly. "I'm about to pop here."
A low groan ripped from deep in Langston's belly. "And you think I'm not?" she retorted, fighting back the urge to rub herself against Dani's insistent thigh. "You're making me crazy!"
"Then don't say no, Langston," Dani growled with an urgency Langston had never before witnessed. "I know you want to… I can feel how hard you are against me."
That visceral urgency that lingered in Dani's voice had proven to be Langston's undoing. Within moments, they were naked in the shower together, experiencing another series of firsts that neither of them would ever forget. They didn't have sex that night—Dani had kept her word, difficult as it proved to be, and not touched Langston anywhere she didn't ask to be touched. But standing beneath the cascade of warm water, Dani had introduced her to the marvels of watching another woman climax… and to the wonders of a showerhead, in bringing swift relief to her own aching need.
Friday, June 19, 2009… Watershed—12:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Restless and distracted, Olivia pushed back from the table, a barely audible sigh falling from her lips. Her plate was nearly as full as it had been when their server set it in front of her. The contents were merely rearranged, thanks to the absentminded effort of her fork as she listlessly shoved it around. She glanced at her watch for the third time in as many minutes. And then she glanced at her phone, still sitting silently beside Natalia's on the table. They should have called by now!
Sensing Olivia's unrest, Natalia reached over, laying a gentle hand atop Olivia's. Their fingers intertwined without need of forethought, and Natalia squeezed lightly—an expression of solidarity, an act of comfort. She knew the hotelier was concerned about Jen and Tracy, and anxious to know what was taking place in a courtroom just a few blocks down the street.
Never one to miss non-verbal cues, despite her current pre-occupation with Lexie's tangle with a bowl of macaroni and cheese, Bianca shifted her attention to them. Looking from one to the other, she asked, "Is everything okay? You both seem a little distracted this afternoon."
"Jen and Tracy are in court right now," Natalia reported in response.
"Ah…" Bianca's response was accompanied a nod of recognition. Elaboration was unnecessary. Both she and Lena were well aware of what had been happening, including events of the past few days. She just hadn't been aware that they were due back in court that morning.
"What was the outcome with the attorneys this morning?" Lena asked, her rich, contralto voice filled with concern. She and Olivia had spoken briefly as the Enchantment jet was taking off, finalizing plans for the day, and Olivia mentioned the early-morning meeting Jen and Tracy had scheduled with their legal team.
"Things were looking up in a lot of respects," Olivia reported, not sounding very convinced.
"But?" Bianca prodded, not yet convinced that she'd heard the whole story. Her focus intently upon Olivia, she didn't even flinch as she reached out her right hand, grasping a sippy cup that was about to be slung across the room.
Lexie squealed in protest, and Bianca handed the cup to Lena, her gaze still locked on Olivia's face, expectantly.
Natalia grinned at the commotion, and Bianca's innate response to her surroundings. She remembered with fondness the necessity of having eyes in the back of your head with small children under your care, and not for the first time, she wondered how different things would be the second time around.
"Let's just say I'm… cautiously optimistic," Olivia answered, drawing Natalia's attention back to the conversation. She didn't have to wonder what it was that Olivia was really thinking.
"And yet, you're still worried to the point of being distracted," Bianca responded, more statement than question. It was so unlike Olivia, and Bianca wondered what else was going on with the usually hyper-focused hotelier. But she didn't ask. Olivia was the type who would talk when she was ready, not when she was probed.
Helplessly, Olivia shrugged. She hated the fact that there were some things money couldn't buy—at least not without breaking the law. And more than that, she hated that some people didn't give a rat's ass about the law; they used their money to buy whatever the fuck they wanted. Preston Morgan was one of those people, and given all that had come to light during the darkest hours of the night, she was afraid that he had gotten to the judge assigned to Jen's case. "I can't help myself," she finally admitted. "I've gone to war with men like Preston Morgan over custody of Emma," she explained, remembering her skirmishes with Phillip and Alan. "They don't exactly fight fair."
"Perhaps not," Lena granted. She knew exactly what kind of man Preston Morgan was. He reminded her very much of another man she had once known—the man who had practically destroyed her—and the man who had ultimately led her to the love of her life. "But that doesn't mean they always win," she reminded, thinking of the all the blessings she had received as a result of his dastardly ways.
She despised the way that Jordan had come into the world, but she wouldn't have traded the joy of being that little girl's mother for anything. Nor would she have traded the life she had with Bianca. She would gladly keep every horrific memory, every moment of pain, if it meant keeping her family forever. She could no longer fathom a life without them. And lucky for her, Bianca felt the exact same way. How could she possibly ask for more?
"That's true enough," Olivia conceded after a few moments of contemplation. "I guess it just seems like they win more often than not."
Lena nodded. She couldn't really argue with that. "Do you need to go to them?" she asked, referring to Jen and Tracy. Her expression was equal parts compassion and concern, as she glanced from Olivia to Natalia and back again. "We're ready to roll this afternoon," she said to Olivia. "So I don't need necessarily need any attention."
"Yes, of course," Bianca chimed in. "Lena and I can take the girls to the pool while…"
Olivia held up a hand, gently halting their offer. "That won't be necessary," she said in a grateful tone. Their support meant everything to both her and Natalia. "I'm sure we'll hear from them soon enough."
"Thank you though," Natalia added, appreciatively. She reached diagonally across the table, lightly squeezing Lena's hand. "Your support means the world to us," she added, echoing Olivia's thoughts.
Lena smiled and nodded, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.
Reaching across the table toward Natalia, Bianca gave her hand an affectionate squeeze, not unlike the one Natalia had just given her wife. "That's what friends are for," she said warmly.
Déjà vu," Natalia thought, her mind returning to the conversation with Jen and Tracy just hours ago. She smiled softly. "Agreed," she said. "But this time, someone else has to be Stevie Wonder," she added drolly, as she glanced at Olivia.
An equally confused expression fell across Lena's and Bianca's faces, as they both struggled to comprehend the context of Natalia's comment. Obviously, they were missing something.
Olivia just laughed.
Friday, June 19, 2009… Company—12:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"Hey, Munchkin?" Rafe said tentatively, as they lingered over lunch in the far back booth at Company. Mindlessly, he pushed a fry around in Buzz's famous dipping sauce. He still couldn't figure out what was in the stuff, but he knew it was addicting. He had craved it the entire time he was in prison.
"Yeah?" Emma answered, peering up at him, turquois eyes wide with wonder. She absolutely adored him, and her expression showed it without reservation. They'd had a wonderful time exploring the farm that morning, and Rafe had been as excited as she was when showing her the beginnings of her treehouse. He has described to her, in vivid detail, the vision he and Josh had created for her special hideaway. By the time they finished, Emma could literally envision it, right down to the lacy curtains that fluttered in the open windows.
"I… I just wanted to say sorry again for yelling at you the other day," Rafe said quietly. He had been riddled with guilt ever since their encounter over the bicycle, and the fact that he had already apologized to her, and been offered forgiveness in return, had been little consolation. He'd hoped today, the time he was spending with her, would make things right again in his own heart. "I really didn't mean to be such a jerk."
Emma shrugged, and took another sip of her chocolate shake. "That's okay, Rafe," she said with compassion in her tone. "Mommy 'splained that you need some 'justing time."
"She did?" Rafe sounded surprised that Olivia even cared enough to explain anything—at least where he was concerned.
"Yeah," Emma nodded. "She said 'cause you never had to share Ma before, it might be hard for you to get used to being with our family."
His heart lurched in his chest. "When did she tell you that?" he asked, both curious and confused, not to mention a little nervous.
"Before you came home," Emma answered. She dunked a fry into her milkshake, and shoved it into her mouth. "Yummy," she declared.
Rafe was quiet for several moments, as he struggled to make sense of what he could not understand. It baffled him that Olivia could be so spot-on about what he had been feeling. She had literally told Emma the same thing that he told Emma after the unfortunate incident the other day. "Was it weird, Em," he finally ventured, "when our moms…" He choked on the question.
"When our moms, what?" Emma pressed.
"You know…" he shrugged. "When they started kissing, and… stuff?" He didn't want to think about any of it, but he especially didn't want to think about the stuff part.
"Why would it be weird?" Emma crinkled up her nose, her face bearing a confused expression. "They love each other—and that's what people in love, do."
The statement was so matter-of-fact, that it left Rafe little room for argument. Silence enshrouded them, and he was left to his thoughts for several minutes.
And then the sound of Emma's voice drew him back to the present. "Are we really gonna go see Hannah Montana today?" she asked innocently.
Rafe smiled down at her, and tousled her hair with affection. "Yeah, Munchkin," he assured. "Just as soon as we finish our lunch." Hannah Montana, the Movie wasn't exactly his cup of tea, but he would bear it… for Emma.
Emma rewarded him with a dazzling smile that reminded him of her mother in those unguarded moments he had witnessed between the hotelier and his Ma. It threw him for a moment, but he quickly recovered.
When his attention returned to Emma, he found her grabbing her Buzz Burger, taking the biggest bite she could manage. "Whoa, there," he laughed. "Slow down, Emma. You don't have to eat it all in one bite!"
"But we'll miss the beginning of the movie!" she protested around a mouthful of burger. If she was gonna see Hannah Montana, she knew she'd better finish her lunch quickly.
"No, we won't," he gently assured. "It doesn't start for another hour, and the theater is only a few blocks away."
"Oh—" Emma grinned sheepishly. And then her eyes lit up. "Can we have Dippin' Dots at the movie?"
"Dippin' Dots?" Rafe queried. He had never heard of such a thing.
"Yeah!" Emma exclaimed after she swallowed the bite in her mouth. "They're little balls of ice cream. You can get them in the vending machine at the theater."
Rafe smiled. "Sure, Munchkin," he said warmly. "After all, it is my birthday," he reasoned. "And what's a birthday without ice cream." It didn't matter to him that he couldn't eat it with her. It only mattered that she was happy.
Glancing up, Emma smiled at him. "Happy Birthday, Rafe. I love you," she said sweetly. And then she was on her knees in the booth, her arms wrapped around her big brother's neck, squeezing him tightly.
Never in his life had he felt a hug so powerful as that of an eight-year-old little girl whose heart was so wide open it could completely engulf every ounce of his unspoken pain. He felt the heat of unbidden tears stinging his eyes. "I love you too, Munchkin," he murmured against her ear.
He held her close then, smiling into her hair, not caring for a moment about the smudges of chocolate he would no doubt find on the shoulder of his brand-new white Cubs jersey. His mother was a miracle worker when it came to getting out stains—and the little girl in his arms was a miracle worker when it came to melting hearts hardened by grief and loss—and most of all, confusion.
Friday, June 19, 2009… Squad Room, Springfield Police Department—1:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"Malloy!"
Langston was jolted back to the present by the sound of Frank Cooper's voice, booming as he entered the squad room. Flustered by the memories of that long-ago night, she fought to regain her composure. "Yes, Chief," she said, scrambling to her feet. The burning rush of arousal hit her like a freight train, and she staggered slightly, righting herself only moments before he stepped into her space. She prayed to God he wouldn't notice the flush she could still feel on her skin, or the desired-filled haze that clouded her usually clear blue eyes.
Grinning, Frank extended his hand to the young detective. "Congratulations," he said gruffly, as she took his hand in return.
"On what, Chief?" She sounded confused.
"On a job well-done last night, Detective Sergeant Malloy," Frank declared.
Langston flushed visibly now. "You heard about that, huh?"
"A little out of your scope, I'd say," he gently pointed out. "And I might've appreciated a little heads-up, but…"
"Chief, I…"
Frank held up a hand, and Langston's explanation died on her lips. "There's no need, Detective," he said clearly. "I understand why you did it," he stated succinctly. "And why you didn't tell me."
Her blue eyes darkened, and her jaw flexed with tension, as she regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. But she refused to give into the fear that edged along her spine, clenching in her gut. "You know, don't you?"
"Who you really are?" Frank said pointedly. His lips tightened, and he nodded, almost imperceptivity. "Let's just say… I make it a point to know exactly who I have working in my unit," he said, just barely skirting a real answer. "Why do you think none of my detectives were caught in that mess last night?"
"I'm not surprised, Sir," Langston said reverently.
"That my detectives are clean?" Frank queried. "Or that I'm not in the dark?"
"I think you know the answer to that," Langston countered strategically. The first rule of survival in the world where she grew up was to never give away anything, even when it was already assumed to be true. That kind of mistake could get you killed. "What I am surprised about, is that you kept me. You know, given what you may or may not know about me."
Frank understood the game all too well. He had played it himself, once upon a time. And though those days were long behind him, they had taught him a few lessons that were beneficial to him in keeping his unit on the straight and narrow. That's how he had recognized that Malloy was on the up-and-up when he first discovered her true identity. He had taken a huge risk where she was concerned, and it had paid off in spades—both for him, and for the department. But mostly, for Langston Malloy; though she had no idea at the moment just how much her life was about to change.
"I've never seen so much as a hint of impropriety where you're concerned, Detective Malloy," he replied after a moment's thought. "And last night, you proved yourself beyond all doubt. It took guts to make that call," he praised. "Sheer guts." He regarded her seriously for a moment, and then nodded his head again. "I see another promotion in your very near future," he boldly declared.
Langston's smile was eclipsed only by a slight flush of humility. She was thankful for the excuse, as it hid the lingering effects of her walk down memory lane. "Thank you, Sir," she said with deep appreciation.
Frank nodded in response, and turned on his heel. And as she watched him walk away, deep inside her, she felt the ominous rumblings of a war she knew she could never win.
Nostalgia wanted to grab the phone, to call Dani—to share with her the news of yet another professional success, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow. But Stark Reality snapped at her, reminding her of the bitter truth—that for all that they had shared, Dani had betrayed her, and there would never be a bright tomorrow—not for the two of them together, anyway. Empathy attempted to comfort her, but she found no respite in it. And finally, Sorrow overtook her, twisting its tentacles like vice grips around her heart; and slowly, she sank back down into her rickety chair, allowing it to welcome her back home.
TBC in Chapter 14.24…