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 and Emma Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, Phillip, Lizzie, James, and Alan Spaulding, Rick and Leah Bauer, Beth and Lillian Raines, Mel and Remy Boudreau, Mindy Lewis, Michelle Bauer Santos, Danny Santos, Blake Marler, Josh, Shayne, Bill, and Billy Lewis, Reva Shayne, Frank, Buzz, and Daisy Cooper, Christina Moore, and Maureen "Maury" and Matt Reardon are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera, Bianca Montgomery, Kendal Hart Slater, Zach and Ian Slater, Erica Kane, Jackson, Lily, and Reggie Montgomery, Greenlee Smythe, Maggie Stone, and Jake Martin, along with the fictional companies, Fusion, Enchantment, Cambias, Cortlandt Electronics, and Chandler Enterprises belong to ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters of Jennifer Morgan, Tracy Jackson, Detective Sargent Langston Malloy, Attorney Danika Kováč, Judge Bennett Thomas and her daughters, Rian and Lauren, Erick Slater, Franceska "Cheska" Stone, and Jacqueline and Preston Morgan 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, All My Children, ABC/Disney, Prospect Park, or any other person or entity. With the exception of images from the Bauer barbecue that aired on July 3, 2009, the dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Many thanks to my friend and favorite FFW, WickedWanda926, and my friend newfan64 for the edit on this one. And thank you to all who continue to read and/or comment. I appreciate the time you have invested in this story.
Rating: Overall, Chapter 16 is NC-17 for colorful language and overt sexual content.
My plan is to update each weekend between now and the Fourth of July, which is when the majority of this chapter takes place—July 4, 2009. It is my hope to give Otalia—and all of you—the Independence Day we all wanted back in 2009, but were cheated out of because TPTB at P&G were such asshats.
I hope y'all continue to enjoy!
Kimberly
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"When you meet someone so different from yourself, in a good way, you don't even have to kiss to have fireworks go off."
— Lisa Schroeder, I Heart You, You Haunt Me
Chapter 16.3 – A Few Fireworks of Our Own:
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Bauer Barbecue—2:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Stepping out from behind the wheel of her smoky-gray Mercedes-Benz Roadster convertible, Doris Wolfe smoothed invisible wrinkles from the pleated front of her dark gauchos, a diversionary tactic Bennett had become quite familiar with over the years. DJ was nervous. And Bennett could completely understand why. After much discussion, they had made a mutual decision to forgo any formal announcement of their involvement, and just simply begin to live their lives out in the open.
Making that decision was proving far easier than acting upon it.
Locking the passenger side door, Bennett closed it quietly. And then the loose gray gravel that lined the parking lot crunched beneath her sandal-clad feet as she skirted around the rear of the car, coming up behind Doris, who was still standing behind the open car door. She placed a reassuring hand upon Doris's shoulder, squeezing gently. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready, DJ," she said quietly, giving her lover an out.
Turning to face Bennett squarely, a wistful smile teased at the corners of Doris's mouth, as those blue eyes met Bennett's gray ones. She reached out, linking her index fingers through the belt loops of Bennett's mint green linen shorts, her blue eyes appraising Bennett with appreciation. Even dressed for a barbecue, Bennett managed to look stylish without being overdone, she thought. "No, I'm ready, BJ," she said with conviction. And then, gathering her close, she tangled her fingers in the dark locks at the base of Bennett's neck, and kissed her. Thoroughly.
From across the yard, Rick caught sight of them as he walked toward the barbecue pit, a platter full of fresh meat for the grill held up in one hand, and a bottle of domestic beer in the other. Distracted, he craned his neck, his mouth agape, as he stared at them. He might've been fine, if not for the porch column that set itself in his path.
Slamming right into it, he yelped loudly, even as he attempted to maintain his balance. But it was too late. The meat went flying in all directions, the huge platter striking the concrete porch with a cacophonous crash. Thank God he still had a hold on his beer!
Heads turned from every direction. Eyes, filled with amusement, focused on him, before turning toward the source of his distraction—the mayor and her female lover, making out in the parking area of the Bauer's house. The low rumble of voices could be heard spreading throughout the crowd, as the scuttlebutt began. It wouldn't be long before the entire town knew about the mayor kissing a woman at the annual Bauer barbecue.
Standing nearby, Phillip tried his hardest to hold a straight face, but this was just too priceless. He burst out into laughter at Rick's most recent debacle. The guy was klutzy on his best day. But distracted, he was practically a menace. Phillip was glad there was no knife involved.
Stepping toward Rick, the laughter in his blue eyes still played across his face. "You do know you're supposed to toss the salad, not the meat, right, Rick?" he teased.
"Hardy-har-har," Rick mocked in return, his expression one of feigned annoyance at his best friend. "And for your information, I don't toss either."
A satisfied smirk accosted Phillip's mug. "Well played, Dr. Bauer."
"Oh, just shut up, and help me clean this up," Rick groused, but that ever-present goofy grin gave him away.
Laughing, Phillip stooped down and began gathering the wayward hot dogs and hamburger patties. If he was surprised by the Mayor's public display, he didn't look it. And all he could really think was: Thank God Alan's not out here to witness it. His father would've had a field day, seeing his ex-wife carrying on with another woman. Secretly, Phillip thought it was fabulous, but Alan would see it as Doris making a laughing-stock out of him, and he simply wouldn't stand for that.
Shuffling across the back porch, Frank's attention fell on Doris and the Judge. He stopped dead in his tracks, and tilted his head to the side, as if to equalize his perception of the scene that played out before him. In doing so, he looked like Bubo, the mechanical owl in Clash of the Titans, only he was creepy rather than cute. "Must be something in the water around here," he muttered under his breath. And then he shook his head, as if shaking the image away like an Etch-a-Sketch, and continued on his way.
When Doris finally lifted her mouth from Bennett's, they were both breathless, and more than ready to forgo the barbecue. They could create fireworks of their own at home, Doris hinted. But Bennett held strong, despite the obvious want in those blue eyes, now dark with desire, and the resounding call of need that echoed within her own body. There would be plenty of time for that later. Now was the time to tell the world what they meant to one another.
Steeling herself, Doris drew in a deep breath and held it. When she finally released it, she smiled and reached for Bennett's hand. "It's time," she declared with conviction.
Bennett returned the smile, as she entwined their fingers. "Yes, it is," she readily agreed. "Let's go shock a few constituents."
Doris laughed, and pulled her close, kissing her again. "Yes, let's."
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—5:00 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Dani's blood turned cold as she remembered the look of raw fear that trembled in Langston's usually calm blue eyes. Throughout their lives, she had watched Langston navigate every imaginable situation, and never, had she witnessed anything as profoundly disturbing as the expression on her face in that moment. Whatever had happened out there, Langston would never tell. But it was bad. Devastatingly so. And Dani had to wonder if her wife would ever get over the effects of it, as her thoughts wandered back to that fateful morning at the hotel…
Monday, June 22, 2009… Danika Kováč's Room, The Beacon—5:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"Could we just get this bullet out of me, please?" Langston demanded, trying to shake off the sheer terror of those moments out there in the dark. It had been hours, and still, she couldn't piece together the sequence of events that led her to Dani's door.
She remembered pulling her weapon from its holster, firing blindly behind her as she pushed the bike to its limits. But she had no idea how she had managed it—the throttle was on the right handlebar. Had she somehow fired left-handed? And she remembered the sharp jolt as the bullet hit her, and the piercing sting that followed as it tore through her flesh. And then there was something about a semi-truck, and a police cruiser that seemed to come out of nowhere.
But that was it.
Adamant, Dani shook her head. "We should call your aunt," she suggested. "She's much better suited for this."
"She hasn't practiced in years," Langston countered. "Besides, it can't be that serious. If it was, I'd be dead already."
Dani gave her a chastising look. "That's not funny," she censured.
"I'm not joking," Langston replied just as adamantly.
Ignoring her, Dani persisted. "She's still better suited than I am, Lang," she reasoned. "I could hurt you. Or… you could get an infection, if I don't clean it properly."
Weariness settled in, and Langston became agitated. "I don't want her involved in this, Dani," she snapped. "She's been through enough already."
"She became involved the moment her husband got tangled up in the family business," Dani pointed out.
Releasing a slow sigh of defeat, Langston nodded. "Fine," she reluctantly agreed. She was too fatigued to continue arguing. "But the less we tell her, the better. Now go get your things together, while I make the call."
"I told you, I can't leave with you, Langston," Dani reiterated.
"And I won't leave without you."
"Then it seems we're at an impasse."
"Not for long," Langston said firmly. "Go pack."
Frustrated, Dani sighed. "Control freak," she muttered accusingly.
A slight grin teased at Langston's lips, but she didn't dare laugh for fear of pain. "Look at it this way: it's an excuse to get close to me," she enticed.
Dani planted her hands on her hips, and simply shook her head.
"What?" Langston queried, feigning complete innocence. And then she arched an eyebrow. "Don't even try to pretend you haven't been aiming to get your hands in my pants since the moment you set eyes on me the other day."
Rolling her eyes, Dani excused herself while Langston made her call. Arrogant! she thought, as she moved toward the master bedroom. But she knew it was true. She'd wanted to get far more than just her hands in Langston's pants.
Langston smirked, as she watched Dani walk away. And then she fished her cell phone out of the front pocket of her tight, black jeans, and scrolled through her contacts to find her aunt's number. She had no way of knowing how deeply her future would be impacted as a result of one simple phone call. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss.
In the end, Dani held to her conviction—she hadn't gone anywhere with Langston. But rather than it being a conscious decision, it had been dictated by circumstances. And now she found herself on Martha's Vineyard, with a family she barely knew, blaming herself for the myriad ways her life had gone wrong.
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Bauer Barbecue—3:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Having recovered from his earlier debacle, Rick sent Phillip and Blake to the local market to pick up more ground beef and hot dogs, while he turned his attention back to grilling the meat that hadn't fallen on the ground. In years past, such an excursion wouldn't have been advisable. But it seemed both Phillip and Blake had mellowed in the years since their ill-fated involvement, and they had long-since buried the hatchet—fortunately, it wasn't in one another's backs.
Unbeknownst to Rick, a game of Frisbee had ensued nearby, and he was swiftly cracked in the back of the head by an errant toss from his sister, Michelle. She and her husband Danny laughed as Rick was sent catapulting to the ground. Still grinning, Danny offered a hand to his brother-in-law. Rick accepted, and Danny teased him as he pulled him to his feet. And then Rick found himself surrounded by Beth and Mindy, both of them teasing him mercilessly, just as they had since senior year of high school.
At a cloth-covered table nearby, Buzz played cards with Frank and Matt, as Lillian looked on, laughing with the men. Each time Buzz won a hand, he earned a hug and kiss from Lillian. She was always so proud to be by his side, and so truly deserving of the happiness she had found with him. It only took a few hands for Matt to throw down his cards, crying "Uncle." And then he wandered over to an adjacent table, and laid on his charms with Rick's ex-wife, Mel Boudreau. Sadly, it wouldn't do him any good, and he would ultimately leave the barbecue alone.
Near the pool, Bill and Lizzie made out on a lounger, red solo cup and bottle of beer firmly gripped in their hands. On the other side, Alan fished a pricy Cuban cigar from the inner chest pocket of his tailored black blazer, and handed it to Billy Lewis, who wore a ridiculous multicolored shirt that looked like it was a reject from the Hawaiian Islands. As they smoked, Billy wrapped his arm around Alan's shoulder. Alan looked chagrinned, but he didn't move away.
There was a game of badminton happening on the far side of the pool, just behind where Alan and Billy stood, enjoying their cigars. And across the field, a touch football game was underway, with players including Ashlee, Bennett's daughters, Rian and Lauren, Josh and Shayne, Christina and Remy, James and Daisy, and Rick and Mel's daughter, Leah. They laughed and screamed as they played, and laughed even harder when Christina and Remy ended up on a heap on the ground after Remy slipped in the wet grass, fumbling a pass.
A light breeze blew, taking the edge off of the humidity; and beneath the huge oak tree that shaded a decent portion of the Bauer's backyard, a small but tight-knit gathering had taken place. Olivia and Natalia lounged side by side, with Doris and Bennett sitting adjacent to them, all in matching Adirondack chairs. Nestled between the two sets of chairs a thick quilt covered the ground—a contribution from Bennett for the kids, including Emma and Rafe, to share when they came up for a little air.
Flopping down onto the quilt, Rian Thomas exhaled a paradoxical breath of exhilarated exhaustion. Her sweat-soaked vintage Fleetwood Mac t-shirt—the one she had pilfered from her mother's closet a decade prior, and claimed as her own—clung to her chest, as she attempted to catch her breath.
"Whew!" she breathed, her small, high breasts heaving beneath the t-shirt, accentuating the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. "That was fun, but man, am I beat. They really take their football seriously in this crowd," she declared, as she brushed thick raven locks away from her face, and lay back on the quilt, folding her arms behind her head like a pillow.
Bennett grinned at her eldest, remembering the afternoon she had claimed that t-shirt, declaring, "Face it, Mom. You're too old to wear somethin' this cool," as she gazed upon the garment like it was the Holy Grail of vintage concert t-shirts. Rather than being aghast at having been deemed "too old" for something at the ripe old age of thirty-nine, Bennett had laughed in response, and tousled that mop of thick, dark curls. At twenty-three, Rian still looked as youthful as she had that afternoon, yet her dark gray eyes held a wisdom borne of vast experience—some that Bennett understood completely, and others she would never comprehend.
"Well, you know what they say in the Old South, Sweetheart," Bennett said to her daughter, feigning a deep Southern accent, "If you can't run with the big dogs, you'd best just stay on the porch."
The corners of Rian's mouth twisted into frown, as she tilted her head, glancing toward her mother. "Funny, Mom."
Delivered on a decidedly dry tone, Rian's retort drew a round of laughter from the women surrounding her. She grinned in response. Despite what some might think, she wasn't really one for needing to be the center of attention; but the occasional acknowledgement of her quick wit was good for her ego.
"What's so funny?" Lauren asked, her blue eyes bright as she crash-landed on the quilt next to her sister. She was as sweaty and out of breath as Rian had been a few minutes earlier, her mop of streaky blonde shoulder-length hair framing her face in wet curls.
"Well, Mom thinks she is," Rian answered, emphasizing the part about thinking, as she cast a teasing smile toward her mother.
Tilting upward on her elbows, Lauren arched an eyebrow in her mother's direction. "When will you learn?"
"Apparently, I'm a bit slow on the uptake," Bennett bantered in return.
"Well, she's funnier than Olivia. I've gotta give her that," Natalia supplied playfully.
"Hey, now!" Olivia protested, earning a dimpled grin from Natalia. "I'll have you know…"
"Oh, now you shush," Natalia fussed.
The expression on Olivia's face was a mixture of surprise and amusement. No one in her entire life had ever been allowed to shush her and actually get away with it. "I guess I've been shushed," she said, feigning indignation.
Everyone laughed again, as Olivia cast an adoring glance toward Natalia.
"So, Rian," Olivia said conversationally, garnering the young woman's attention after their laughter subsided. "Your mom tells me you're working on a degree in social work."
A slight smile touching the corners of her mouth, Rian's gray eyes shone, as she sat up, twisting to face the hotelier. "Just finished my first year," she announced proudly. After graduating with Honors from Bryn Mawr with a Bachelor's Degree, majoring in International Studies, with minors in Gender and Sexuality, and Sociology, she was pursuing her Master's in Social Work at the University of Illinois—Springfield.
"So you'll be looking for an internship in the fall or spring," Olivia ventured.
"Yes," Rian answered. Brushing back the wayward locks of her tousled raven hair, she bent her knees, and wrapped her arms around them. The heels of her sneakers dug into the quilt, and she leaned forward, regarding Olivia with interest.
"Does it have to be something local?" Olivia queried.
"No, I don't suppose so," Rian answered. "As long as it's within reasonable driving distance. Why do you ask?"
"Well, Natalia and I are embarking on a new venture in Chicago," Olivia explained. "A home for pregnant teens. Chicago isn't exactly close, but if you're interested, it might be a great opportunity to get in on the ground floor of something really rewarding."
Never one to pursue an endeavor without adequate information, Olivia had already done her homework, and she knew that one of the most prudent ways to staff the home, financially speaking, would be through the use of social work and counseling interns, given that they hired a director who was licensed to provide supervision.
And she also had no doubt that Rian Thomas would be a valuable asset to the organization. Thanks to a few impromptu get-togethers with Doris, Bennett, and their girls since their official "coming out" as a couple nearly two weeks prior, Olivia had been afforded the opportunity to interact with and observe both Rian and her sister, and she had to admit, the more time she spent with them, the more she liked what she saw. Rian was intelligent, articulate, and witty. She came across as lighthearted and playful much of the time, but Olivia could see the depths of sincerity in her eyes, the level of maturity in her responses, when the topic was of a sensitive nature.
Sitting upright on the quilt, Lauren draped a supportive arm around her sister's shoulder. "Hey, that's right up your alley, Ry," she said, admiration evident in her tone. "Imagine all the great work you could do."
Much like her sister Rian, Lauren, who had just finished her junior year at Stanford where she was studying mechanical engineering, was intelligent, passionate, and well-spoken. She was the quieter of the two girls, seeming to be well-grounded and studious, and her striking blue eyes held a wisdom beyond her years. Clearly, Olivia thought, Bennett Thomas had raised her daughters well.
Intrigued by the offer, Rian considered the logistics, as well as the opportunity. She glanced at her sister, garnering a nod of approval—something that was more important to her than mere words could express—and then back at Olivia. "You know, that's definitely something I would consider," she said, agreeing with Lauren that such a prospect fit nearly all of her areas of interest. "I might have to do just one or two days a week, so I could be back in Springfield for classes, but I certainly wouldn't mind the drive for an opportunity like that. Thank you," she added, sincerely.
Oliva smiled, pleased with the woman's response. "Give me a call when you're ready to talk details," she said. "We should have a director in place by then."
Rian offered a genuine smile, her eyes flashing with excitement, in response. "Thanks," she said. "I will." And then she glanced at her sister. "What say we go check out the spread?" she suggested.
Lauren grinned. "Oh, I am all over that. I'm starving!"
With that, both girls scrambled to their feet, and as if they were in competition, they tore off across the lush green lawn making their way toward the food tent.
Smiling at her daughters, Bennett shook her head. As much as they loved and admired one another, there was always a sense of competitiveness between the two of them. Some days it was more endearing than others. Today was one of those days, and Bennett basked in the joy of it. "That was really thoughtful of you, Olivia," she finally said, once the girls hit the tent, having landed at the entrance in tandem.
"We'd be lucky to have her," Olivia asserted. "From what you've told me, she's very passionate about her work."
During their last get-together, Bennett had explained Rian's tardiness by sharing that her daughter volunteered for the literacy corps, working with high school students in one of the area's most economically and culturally disadvantaged schools. It was a position she'd started as soon as she'd been old enough to drive, and it never mattered to her that she didn't get paid for doing it. She truly loved both the work and the students.
"She is," Bennett confirmed, the corners of her mouth twitching into a proud smile. "And I don't see that ever changing."
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—5:15 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Dishes washed, countertops wiped down, and leftovers having been efficiently stored away for snacking later on, the crowd of extended Montgomery-Kundera family members gathered out on the mid-level deck. It was the most spacious, and thus, that had been where they'd shared their afternoon meal. The picnic tables had been moved aside, making room for a dozen or so Adirondack chairs, a few random fold-up beach chairs, and a riding toy or two for the toddlers.
Later, Dani had been told, they would venture down another level and onto the beach, where they would congregate around the fire pit Jackson and Zach had erected earlier that afternoon. Makeshift seats had been fashioned out of sand, surrounding the pit, giving them a touch of warmth to take off any chill that may drift in off the coast, as well as a spectacular view of the fireworks display that would be set off from several boats, anchored out in the harbor.
As the family members chattered in small groups about random topics, they were good about including Dani in their conversations—an effort for which she was decidedly grateful. As the afternoon progressed, a smattering of friends and neighbors dropped by, seemingly unannounced; though, not surprisingly, they were welcomed with open arms by this group of gregarious individuals.
At one point, Jordan had come racing up the stairs, limping noticeably, tears staining her soft russet eyes, and trickling down her lightly tanned cheek. She wasn't wailing or carrying on the way Lexie had at times throughout the day, but she was obviously in distress. A glance downward toward her knee revealed the source: a rather serious scrape that seeped with blood.
Dani's heart went out to her, as the memory of Langston's trickling blood tore through her once again. Oftentimes, she wondered if she would ever get that image out of her head, but in the moment, she willfully forced her attention back to the present moment.
Bianca was inside fixing juice cups for the little ones, but Lena was out on deck, chatting with Kendall and Dani. Six months pregnant and counting, despite her fitness regimen, she was visibly tired from the heat and the non-stop activities of the day, including chasing after a cantankerous one-year-old; but the moment she saw her daughter's face, she made a move to rise.
Before she made it to her feet, Kendall gently touched her arm, a soft smile gracing her lips. "You stay," she said gently. "I'll see to her. I've handled my fair share of scraped knees with the boys."
Gratefully, Lena released a soft sigh of relief. "Thank you," she murmured. "It's been a long day."
Rising from her chair, Kendall squeezed Lena's shoulder with obvious affection. "I remember those days," she said empathically.
Upon Jordan's arrival amidst the group of adults, Kendall stooped down to her level, her light summery dress floating in the gentle breeze. "What happened to your knee, Sweetie?" she asked, as she drew the child onto her makeshift lap.
Little arms wrapped around Kendall's neck, and Jordan buried her face against her aunt's bare shoulder. "Erick was chasing me, and I tripped, and I fell on a big rock," she sniffed.
"Well, the nerve of that big rock, huh?" Kendall asked, playfully.
Jordan nodded against Kendall's shoulder.
Pressing a soothing kiss against Jordan's brow, Kendall scooped the little girl up in her arms. "What say we go inside and see if we can't find some Dora bandages, and fix that knee right up?" she suggested.
"Yeah!" Jordan exclaimed, seemingly forgetting about the pain.
As Dani watched the interaction between the two, her memory was flooded with another instance of a loving aunt coming to the rescue of an injured niece. The injury may have been more severe, the mood, more intense, but the expression of love was had been equally as moving…
Monday, June 22, 2009… Danika Kováč's Room, The Beacon—5:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Jacqueline Morgan tapped lightly on a heavy wooden door, her insides quivering with a sense of nervousness she hadn't felt in more than twenty years. The call that had awakened her from a fitful sleep still had her rattled nearly forty minutes later.
Shifting anxiously from foot to foot as she waited, she clutched her medical bag in her right hand. She hadn't touched it in years—since Preston demanded that she give up her practice as a trauma surgeon. Pulling it from the closet after ending the early-morning wake-up call, she'd dusted it off, all the while lamenting the loss of her career. Why had she given in to him on the things that mattered most to her?, she silently chastised. But she had. And having been called into action this morning, she'd had to scramble to gather supplies for her unanticipated patient.
The door swung open, and Dani breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Jacqueline," she exhaled. "Thank you so much for coming. Please, come in."
Stepping through the door, Jacqueline accepted the warm embrace that welcomed her. "It's so nice to see you, Dani," she said affectionately.
"Likewise," Dani replied with obvious fondness.
A quick glance around the room failed to produce any sign of Langston. "Where is our patient?"
"Resting in the bedroom," Dani answered. "Follow me. She's anxious to see you."
"I'm a little anxious myself," Jacqueline confessed, palms sweating. The comment was more for herself than for Dani. "She hasn't lost consciousness?"
"No," Dani reported. "But she's gotten weaker since she arrived."
"I'm not surprised," Jacqueline admitted. "How long ago did this happen?"
"A few hours, I think," Dani related. "Lang's a little iffy on the details. All I really know is that it didn't happen around here."
Banking the information, Jacqueline nodded. She knew where Langston had been over the weekend. Not because her niece had divulged much in terms of details—she'd never been much for the baring of souls to anyone other than Dani—but because Langston had called just to let someone know where she would be.
Dani could tell from the expression on Jacqueline's face that she knew more than she was saying. But secrets were a major part of the life they had all come to know, and thus, she didn't question. Instead, she waited for Jacqueline to speak. She didn't have to wait long.
"How much blood has she lost?"
"It was pretty bad when she first got here," Dani reported. "But I put pressure on it as best I could, given the pain she's in. It seems to have subsided for the most part."
"Good." Jacqueline breathed a sigh of relief.
Before entering the bedroom, she paused, her gaze locking on Dani's. "Is she here with you?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
"You should take her downstairs."
"I won't leave Langston."
"She can't be here while I do this," Jacqueline insisted.
Dani hesitated, poised to argue. But she knew Jacqueline was right. Unnecessary exposure to trauma wasn't good for anyone; especially not her. Sighing, Dani nodded her assent. "I'll take care of it," she reluctantly relented. And then she tipped her head toward the bedroom where Langston lay bleeding from a bullet wound. "You just take care of her."
"You have my word," Jacqueline vowed. "You just be careful not to be seen, okay? I'm sure they're watching the building."
Weren't they always? Dani nodded. She knew what was at stake, and she refused to sacrifice anyone else's life in exchange for her own.
With a gentle touch shared between them, they parted ways then, Dani moving toward the master suite and Jacqueline into the second bedroom where she found Langston lying on the bed. It was clear from the scene she was witnessing that Dani had taken excellent care of her, and Jacqueline felt immensely grateful. Yes, Dani was Langston's wife, but her niece hadn't exactly been hospitable in recent years, and quite frankly, Jacqueline was a little miffed at her for that. Still, she loved her dearly.
"Hey, Sweetie," Jacqueline said, as she entered the room, gingerly closing the door behind her. She didn't want to take any chances of Langston seeing Dani walk past—or hear anything as she did. "How are you feeling?"
Startled at first, Langston slowly turned her head, and then she responded with a weary smile. "I've had better days."
A hint of a grin tickled at Jacqueline's lips, despite the serious nature of her early-morning call. Grateful, her heart finally stopped racing with panic the moment she set eyes on her niece, confirming for herself that Langston truly was all right. Or, at least she would be, once Jacqueline got that bullet out of her. Damn those bastards for hurting her! "I can well imagine," she said with a forced touch of humor. Anything to keep Langston from seeing how worried she was about her.
She set her bag on the bedside table, and took a seat next to her niece, who laid on the bed, shirtless, a sheet draped across her chest. It was obvious by the bulge over her left clavicle and shoulder that a thick towel lay beneath, most likely soaking up any lingering trickles of blood.
Reaching out, she gently brushed wayward strands of dark hair away from Langston's face. Even pallid and weak from blood loss, she was as beautiful as her late mother. Jacqueline choked back the emotions that threatened to burst, and leaning over, she brushed a motherly kiss against Langston's brow. "I'm glad you called," she said tenderly. "We'll get you taken care of, and no one will be the wiser."
"Thank you," Langston said quietly. Glancing around, she seemed suddenly aware of an absence. "Where's Dani?" she managed.
"She'll be back soon," Jacqueline assured. "She's taking care of something for me downstairs," she lied to protect her niece.
"Downstairs? She left the suite?" Langston's eyes were wide with panic, as she attempted to sit upright. "Aunt Jacqué, she can't be out there alone!"
Catching her uninjured shoulder with a firm, but gentle hand, Jacqueline held her down. "Be still, Langston," she quietly commanded. "She's lived in their world as long as you have. She knows to be careful."
Momentarily placated, Langston nodded. But the expression on her face told Jacqueline she was anything but pleased by that response.
Jacqueline gave her a questioning look. "For someone who doesn't want anything to do with her wife, you sure seem awfully concerned about her."
"Blame it on delirium brought on by blood loss," Langston said dryly.
"You seem quite lucid to me," Jacqueline challenged, her dark eyes sharp and probing. Something had changed since the last they'd talked. Could it really have been only two days? That hardly seemed possible.
"Since when did you become a shrink?" Langston rejoined.
"I rest my case."
Knowing she'd been outwitted, Langston fell silent, contemplative; as she watched her aunt's practiced moves.
Wordlessly, Jacqueline slipped on a pair of latex gloves. And then, with the sure, steady hands of a seasoned trauma surgeon, Jacqueline quickly assessed the seriousness of the wound, and began preparation for extrication of the offending object.
Saturday, July 4, 2009… Jacqueline Morgan's Residence—2:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Not quite two weeks later, staring out across the perfectly manicured lawn and pristine gardens that adorned the entire expanse of her back yard, Jacqueline Morgan released a slow sigh. The impatiens, and dahlias, and lantana were in full bloom, as were the coreopsis. How could she look upon such beauty, and yet feel absolutely nothing but profound sadness?
Attempting to shove aside her melancholy, she tried to focus on her outing with Jen, Tracy, and her grandsons. Her talk with Jen had gone far more smoothly than she ever would have anticipated, and despite her sadness, she was truly looking forward to spending the holiday with them.
Still, her sorrow lingered.
Willfully, she forced back the tears that threatened to spill. Never would she have imagined that early-morning phone call, the examination and procedure that followed swiftly on its heels, would ultimately lead to the loss of her beloved niece.
Yet somehow, it had, and she had only herself to blame.
TBC in Chapter 16.4…