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 Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, Phillip Spaulding, Beth Raines, Blake and Jason Marler, Rick Bauer, Daisy, Frank, Eleni, and Marina Cooper, and Coop Bradshaw are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The original characters of Tracy Jackson, Detective Sargent Langston Malloy, and her mother, Carrigan (Carrie) McKenna Malloy, Attorney Danika Kováč, and her mother Alaina (Laney) Brennan Kováč, and Judge Bennett Thomas and her daughters, Rian and Lauren 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, any other person or entity. With the exception of brief references to the 6.22.2009 episode of Guiding Light, the Blake/Phillip/Beth history, the Ross/Blake/Rick/Jason history, the Frank/Marina/Eleni history, and the Ashlee/Coop history, 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. I appreciate your input more than you know. And thank you to all who continue to read and/or comment. My day is really cram-packed, but I'll do my best to respond to all of your incredible feedback when I get home this evening. In the meantime, please know how very much I appreciate the time you have invested in this story.
Rating: This section of Chapter 16 is rated PG-13 for a touch of colorful language and subtle sexual references.
Finally, I apologize for the lack of actual Otalia interaction in this update. There's a lot of ground to cover in the Dani/Langston story, so I'm just trying to push through to get everyone to the Fourth of July conclusion. Otalia will return in the next update. In the interim, I hope y'all 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 16.8 – A Few Fireworks of Our Own:
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Bauer Barbecue—7:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"Hey, Frankie," Blake Marler chirped, as she slapped the Chief of Detectives on the back like an old pal. She'd come across him sitting on the top of a picnic table, boots on the seat, elbow resting on his thigh, his chin firmly planted in his upturned palm. An empty beer bottle sat beside him, and he looked like he needed another. "What's up?"
"Just contemplating the absurdities of life," he answered gruffly. His hazel eyes never wavered as he watched the Mayor, brazenly kissing Springfield's most prominent family court judge. He'd known his fair share of lesbians—Tracy Jackson, and his top detective, Langston Malloy being the two he knew best. But Bennett Thomas and Doris Wolfe had thrown him for a loop. Jesus, but that was a mindbender.
When Malloy's wife had called a few weeks ago, asking for a protective detail to get her to the courthouse, he hadn't been surprised at all—not about the request for protection, or about Malloy being a lesbian. She'd been upfront about her sexual orientation, as well as her familial ties to organized crime, from the beginning. He hadn't been surprised about her having a wife, either. Though, he'd been shocked as hell to actually hear from her. Never once had Malloy actually mentioned being married. He'd learned that on his own, thanks to his practice of learning all he could about the lives of those under his command.
And now, having met the detective's wife, it hadn't been difficult to see how much the woman loved Malloy. All it took was a few hours of escorting her about town, listening to the way she spoke of the detective, to understand the depth of their connection. He wondered briefly why Malloy had never mentioned her wife, and then decided it was none of his business.
He supposed that he never really contemplated the whole gay thing, because it hadn't really been necessary—until now. He'd known Tracy since she was a little girl, and accepted her as she was without question, because Tracy herself had never questioned it. And he'd accepted Malloy for the very same reason. Olivia Spencer, she was a wildcard—a woman who always danced to the beat of her own drum, so while he'd been surprised at first, it really hadn't thrown him all that much once he considered it. But Natalia? He certainly never would have ever called that. No, Natalia was safe, predictable.
"What do you mean?" Blake asked, climbing up to sit on the table beside him. She followed his line of sight, and then laughed. "Boggles the mind, doesn't it?"
"To say the least," Frank replied, sounding befuddled.
"They look really happy together," Blake said with a hint of longing in her tone.
"You sound almost jealous," Frank commented without judgment.
"I am," Blake sighed yearningly.
Glancing at Blake, Frank regarded her intently. "What do you make of this thing between Olivia and Natalia?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it absurd, if that's what you're getting at," Blake answered forthrightly.
"What would you call it, then?" Frank asked.
His tone was curious, and Blake considered the question thoroughly before answering. "I would call it love, plain and simple," she answered. "I think that life is far too short, and love, far too hard to find. They both deserve happiness, and it's clear they've found that together."
"Yeah, but Natalia," Frank said, shaking his head in refusal. "She's not a lesbian."
"Neither was Olivia, last time I checked," Blake granted in a wry tone.
"Then why is she fucking Natalia?" Frank snapped.
Ignoring his outburst, Blake said, "I think the better question is: Why do you need them to fit a label to accept the fact that they're in love?"
"I don't know," Frank muttered in frustration. "Just seems like there's lesbians everywhere these days."
Blake smirked. "Last I heard, the very idea of lesbians titillates most men," she quipped, emphasizing their effect on the male species.
"Yeah, well, it doesn't titillate me," Frank groused. Try as he might, he couldn't scrub the image of Olivia fucking Natalia with that… overly-exaggerated piece of manufactured manhood—and Natalia's obvious willingness and pleasure—from his memory bank. She hadn't responded like that with him! If he'd been able to be honest with himself, he would've admitted that she'd looked… bored, and maybe even a little scared, that night with him. But he couldn't be honest about that! What would it say about him?
"You're too close to this, Frankie," Blake gently asserted, drawing him from his inner musings. "You were hoping for a life with Natalia, and she chose someone else. I know that hurts and I'm really sorry," she empathized, recalling how it felt to know that her then-husband, Phillip, was more interested in the memory of the presumed-dead Beth, than he was in the living, breathing her. "I've been there, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone."
Frank took a few moments to ponder what Blake had said, and then responded. "It does hurt," he admitted. "But at this point, I think I'm mostly just afraid I won't have a chance to be a dad to my new baby girl. It was hard being cut out of my daughter's life when Eleni took Marina away. I don't want that to happen again."
"I can understand that," Blake consoled. "I was terrified of losing Jason when Rick threatened to go after full custody of him," she recalled, referring to the time in her life when she'd mistakenly thought that Rick had fathered one of her twin boys. Fucking Annie Dutton. "And it was worse when I thought Ross would take both boys."
"Yeah, I remember," Frank commiserated. "How'd you get through those times?"
Blake was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "I just tried to keep both Ross's and Rick's feelings in mind. Tried to understand where they were coming from, especially Ross, because I'd done so much to hurt him. And mostly, I kept reminding myself that they were both good men, reasonable and fair, despite the way they were acting at the time."
"I guess I'm hoping Olivia and Natalia will remember that about me," Frank admitted. "I've been acting kind of crazy lately."
"Try talking to them, Frankie," Blake recommended. "I can't speak for Olivia, but I know Natalia is a reasonable woman."
"She wasn't very reasonable tonight," Frank muttered.
"When was that?" Blake asked. "I haven't seen them in hours."
"That's because they went home," Frank reported, sounding bleak. "To have sex." He bristled visibly as the images flashed through his mind, running loose, like wild stallions on the open prairie.
Reddish eyebrows vaulted in interest. Oooh, this could be good! "How do you know that?" Blake's green eyes danced with glee. If there was one thing she was curious about, it was their sex life.
"Because I walked in on them," Frank answered.
"You what?" Blake sounded incredulous. "Like you just barged into their house?"
"I was concerned about Natalia," Frank attempted to justify. "Rafe said she left, and took his car keys and wallet. I thought something might've happened."
"That still doesn't give you the right to just barge into their home," Blake censured. "You're lucky they didn't have you arrested."
Frank nodded. He didn't like the idea of having to ask for permission to be a part of his own child's life, but Blake was right. The only way things would get settled was by talking, not by him just barging in whenever he wanted. "Yeah, I know," he sighed. "It wasn't one of my finer moments."
"You could've called, if you were concerned about Natalia or the baby," Blake pointed out needlessly.
"Next time, I'll know better," Frank agreed. He shuddered again at the memory, wishing he'd thought to call this time. "Some things you just can't un-see."
Green eyes grew wide as saucers, twinkling with interest. "Like what?"
"Oh, no," Frank said, waving his hands in front of him. "There's no way in hell I'm reliving that on purpose."
"Oh, come on, Frankie," Blake practically whined.
"No fucking way."
"Please?"
"No."
They bantered back and forth for several more minutes, Blake begging for details, and Frank adamantly refusing to provide them. Finally, growing bored with the interaction, Blake feigned a pout. "Fine," she sighed. "I think I'll go ask the Mayor instead. I'm sure she's got a few juicy details. She and Olivia seem to be thick as thieves these days."
"Great. More lesbian converts. Must be something in the water around here," Frank muttered, not for the first time that day.
"Chin up, Frankie," Blake said, as she hopped down from the table. "At least I haven't turned lesbian…" She paused for a moment, creating effect, and then she winked, her green eyes dancing with mischief, as she flirtingly delivered her departing remark, "Yet…"
Completely uncertain as to whether Blake was serious or not, Frank muttered under his breath again, as he watched her saunter away.
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Bauer Barbecue—7:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"So, your mom's, uh… friend… seems really nice," Rafe commented to Ashlee a bit awkwardly, as they sat side-by-side on the edge of the pool, legs immersed in the water. They'd been in and out of the water several times, and now they were just relaxing, enjoying the final vestiges of sunlight as the gorgeous July day slipped toward twilight. Soon thereafter, the fireworks would begin, signaling the end of another Independence Day celebration, and in the morning, they would awaken to just another hot day in July.
Though he loved holidays, mostly because Natalia always worked so hard to make them special, Rafe found them to be something of an enigma. For the Fourth of July, the whole country would stop, suddenly turn patriotic—as if decorating everything under the sun with the colors of the American flag made one patriotic—get drunk, blow shit up, and then the next day, they were back to being their normal asshole selves.
The same was true of Memorial Day and Labor Day, too. Well, except for the blowing shit up part. On Memorial Day, everyone seemed so grateful for those who served in the military, those who died for the cause. But the next day, he would hear those same people—most of them church people—bitching about their tax dollars being used to pay disability benefits and physical and mental health care needs of those same men and women they had just celebrated. It seemed rather of hypocritical to him. Thanksgiving was even worse, in his estimation. The whole country stopped, once again, and everyone gave thanks for all that they already had—and the very next day, they were ripping one another to shreds over a deal on some piece of electronic equipment that would be obsolete before they reached the first of the year.
Lunacy.
And don't get him started on Christmas and Easter.
Lifting her right leg, Ashlee let the crystal-clear liquid sluice over her skin, before dipping it back into the warmth. "They're more than friends, you know," she reminded gently.
"Yeah, I know. Sorry," Rafe sighed, sounding suitably chagrinned by his own lack of understanding. "I just… I don't really know what to call them," he shrugged.
"Well, my mom calls Aun… Bennett her 'partner'," Ashlee informed. It was a struggle remembering not to call Bennett "aunt" anymore, but the change was something that both women requested once the truth of their relationship was out. It just felt too weird to have the girls call them "aunt," now that they were officially together, and the idea of "mom" for the other person just seemed like too much, too soon. This was a huge adjustment for all of them, the women granted. So, given that everyone was an adult, they all just thought it best to be on a first-name basis without any titles other than "mom" for their own parent. "And she really is nice. I've known her all my life."
"Really?" Rafe sounded surprised.
"Yeah," Ashlee confirmed. "She and my mom were roommates in law school."
"Oh." Rafe fell silent for a moment. Then he glanced at Ashlee. "Were they, you know, together, back then?" He asked because he wondered if Doris and Bennett were like his mom and Olivia—switching teams later in life. Maybe there was something to that, he thought.
"Apparently," Ashlee sighed, her facial expression mirroring an inner sadness.
Thick eyebrows furrowed. "Is that a bad thing?" Rafe sounded both confused and concerned.
"No," Ashlee answered. Still wet from the pool, her messy blonde ponytail flopped dramatically as she shook her head. "I just wish my mom would've felt close enough to me to tell me about it years ago. But she didn't."
"That's not your fault, you know," Rafe said comfortingly.
"Yeah, I know," Ashlee said, not sounding too convinced.
"When did she finally tell you?"
"A couple weeks ago," Ashlee answered. "At a dinner with Bennett and her girls; who are apparently going to be my sisters at some point."
"Is that not okay?" Rafe queried. "They seem nice enough."
"Yeah, it's actually great," Ashlee said, sounding more like her chipper self. "I like Rian and Lauren a lot. We practically grew up together, so we're kind of like sisters anyway, I guess."
"How come you didn't tell me about this when it happened?" Rafe asked, sounding a little hurt. He focused on his feet, swishing them through the water, as he awaited her response.
"I did!" Ashlee looked at him with surprise in her bright blue eyes.
"No," Rafe countered, shaking his head. "You told me your mom was seeing someone, but you didn't tell me there was history there."
Ashlee thought about that for a moment, and then nodded her head. "Yeah, you're right. I didn't," she granted. "I'm sorry, Rafe. I guess I'm just not used to having someone to talk to anymore." Even though they'd broken up long before he died, sometimes she still really missed Coop.
"What about Daisy?" Rafe inquired.
"Daisy's different," Ashlee replied.
"How's that?"
"She's my girl," Ashlee said proudly.
"What does that mean?" Rafe sounded wary.
Sensing the unspoken question in his tone, Ashlee rolled her eyes. "Well, it doesn't mean I wanna sleep with her, Rafe," she said, matter-of-factly. She looked at him then, watching the way he averted her gaze. "We've talked about that before, right?"
Wordlessly, Rafe nodded. It was true, they had. And now he just felt dumb for thinking her comment was about sex again. He seriously needed to get laid.
One thought. That's all it took.
Shit.
And now he needed to think about something else, before he was forced to do something about this boner he'd given himself. Sometimes being a guy really sucked. Women could hide their physical responses, but for guys, it was right out there in the open, for the whole fucking world to see—especially when all they're wearing is a pair of swimming trunks. White ones, at that.
Forgetting all about her own struggle, Ashlee watched as a whirlwind of emotions played across Rafe's deeply tanned face. His dark hair, wet and wild, and his face scruffy with a five o'clock shadow, he was ridiculously handsome. "What are you so afraid of?" she wondered aloud.
"Huh? What?" Startled from his thoughts, Rafe grunted his response.
"I asked you what you're so afraid of," Ashlee repeated.
"Me?" Rafe scoffed, puffing out his chest in a display of machismo. "I'm not afraid of nothing."
Ashlee tittered at his response. "Okay, macho man," she teased, shoving him playfully.
His tanned cheeks flushed in the lingering sunlight. "All right, maybe I'm afraid of a few things," he shrugged.
"Me too," Ashlee openly admitted, hoping to make him feel less alone.
"Like what?" Rafe asked.
The question gave Ashlee pause, and she hesitated telling the truth. But then she looked into Rafe's steady, dark eyes, and decided to just trust him. "Like… sharing my feelings with a guy again," she confessed with a self-conscious shrug of her shoulders.
"Because it's different than sharing them with Daisy?" Rafe extrapolated.
Nodding, Ashlee sighed. "Yeah," she confirmed. "It's a lot different."
Rafe nodded. "I know what you mean," he said. "Until now, I haven't really trusted a girl since everything that happened with Daisy. I mean, we're cool and all, but… I don't really talk to her about my ma, or anything. Not like I do with you."
Reaching over, Ashlee touched Rafe's arm. "I'm glad you can talk to me about it." The dimples that formed on Rafe's cheeks as he smiled reminded Ashlee of his mother, and her heart melted just a little bit.
"Yeah, me too," Rafe agreed. He was quiet for a moment, and then he glanced up, meeting Ashlee's blue eyes. "You can talk to me too, you know," he said reassuringly. "I know I've done some shady things, but I wouldn't break your trust, Ashlee."
Dropping her gaze to the water, Ashlee pressed her palms down hard against the concrete as she nodded. "I felt really bad after I dumped all my mom issues on you a few weeks ago," she admitted. "I guess I just wasn't sure you were okay with it, you know, because you've got so much of your own stuff to deal with. So I tried really hard not to do that to you again."
Scooting closer, Rafe draped an arm around Ashlee's shoulders. "I'm pretty tough," he assured. "I did survive prison, you know. So I think I can handle my stuff as well as yours, don't you?"
Ashlee grinned, showing a mouthful of teeth. "Yeah," she said, her head bobbing. She met his gaze again. "It means a lot that you want to."
"It means a lot that you came to visit all those months," Rafe said quietly. "That place was hell, and knowing I would see you made it easier to deal."
"Even when I was saying you were being selfish and dumb?" Ashlee questioned sheepishly.
Rafe laughed. "Yeah, even then."
This time Ashlee's smile was more subdued, but it reached all the way to her eyes as she gazed at him. "I'm really glad, Rafe," she said sweetly.
"Yeah, me too," Rafe said, sounding almost content.
And then a mischievous grin flashed across his face, and Ashlee knew she was in trouble. Before she could even react, Rafe reached for her, grasping her waist, and flinging her into the water. Her loud squeal was chased by laughter, as he fell in right behind her. He hadn't planned on her being quick enough to grab hold of his swim trunks, or strong enough to pull him in with her. He guessed there were a lot of things he'd underestimated about Ashlee Wolfe, and as they laughed together, splashing one another with waves of water, he realized that he was looking very forward to learning a whole lot more about the pretty blonde with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.
Monday, June 22, 2009… Danika Kováč's Room, The Beacon—2:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Groaning softly at the persistent nagging pain that had plagued her for nearly twelve hours, Langston attempted to stretch out cramped muscles without further aggravating her injury. She had awoken a few minutes ago, grateful to be free of the haunting dreams that had persisted after her talk with Jacqueline a few hours prior. At Jacqueline's insistence, she had taken another dose of the pain meds—different ones this time, but still, just as potent. And then sleep had come again, unbidden, returning her to the world of troublesome dreams.
Her mother and Aunt Laney were there again, but this time, each woman looked the age they had been when they were murdered. Laney, so young and exotic, so much like Dani. And her mother, so distinguished, so regal, more like her sister Jacqueline than Langston had ever realized. It was striking, the contrast between the way her mother looked before her death, and the way she looked now, as she gazed at Laney with love in her eyes.
In that moment, Langston realized the true toll Laney's untimely death had taken on her mother. Though she had always been beautiful to Langston, after Laney's death, her arresting blue eyes had held a profound sense of sadness most of the time, even when she smiled. Even in her sleep, Langston felt the weight of that sadness in her own heart, as it ached for her mother.
And then she heard the baby again, and her attention was drawn toward that beautiful little curly-haired boy who sat in her mother's lap, gurgling and cooing, a sweet smile playing on his lips. He looked so hauntingly like her as a child, and she found herself completely enamored with him as she watched and listened to him. It had been the sound of a sharp cry—one that contradicted the curve of his lips, the laughter in his eyes—that had drawn Langston from sleep; and now she was positive that she heard it again. It wasn't a dream at all. It was the cry of a small child, she was absolutely certain of it.
Someone has their hands full, she thought absently, as she listened to the incessant wailing. It was foreign to her, and yet, somehow, familiar—a sense of connectedness she couldn't explain. It felt… right. And that unnerved her. Fortunately, she crying only lasted for a few more seconds, and then suddenly, it stopped, replaced by blissful silence.
Willfully shaking off the weirdness, she settled back into the pile of pillows behind her, and reached across the bed to grab the television remote. Clicking the set on, she scrolled through the channels absentmindedly, stopping at a scene on some daytime soap opera, where two women who were obviously in love, simultaneously declared that they didn't want to wait any longer to be together. As if by some mystical design, a sweet little girl interrupted them, asking them what they were waiting for, and the green-eyed beauty gazed into the most beautiful mahogany eyes, declaring, "Nothing… We're not waiting for anything," as she affectionately touched her partner's face.
The tenderness of the scene made Langston's throat tighten, and tears turned her usually bright blue eyes into a stormy midnight hue, as the emotions overtook her. What the hell is wrong with me? She wondered. Letting some ridiculous daytime soap get to me…
Yet, it had.
Hearing the longing in their voices, seeing the love in their eyes, made her realize how much time she had wasted. It made her want to make things right with Dani. Right now. If only she knew where to find her. The answer, of course, was to find her phone and call. But that would require getting out of bed—a feat she had yet to accomplish since Dani deposited her there in the early pre-dawn hours.
Searing pain gripped her once again, as she forced herself upright in the bed. The bedframe creaked beneath her as she twisted her body, somehow managing to drop her feet to the floor. She sat there for a few moments, allowing her balance to adjust to the new position. It dawned on her then that she still wasn't wearing any pants, and that made her chuckle just a little at the faint memory of Dani wedging her out of those wet jeans and boxer-briefs. She reached out then with her uninjured arm, and grasped the pair of dark sweats Dani had so thoughtfully left for her at the foot of the bed.
Grasping the waistband, she shook the pants out, allowing the legs to fall to the floor. And then she meticulously maneuvered to get her feet inside, and somehow managed to stand upright. Thankful that her dominant right arm had been spared injury, she managed to pull them up, but the process left her feeling, dizzy, disoriented, and more than a little fatigued.
Ridiculous, she thought; as she lowered herself back down onto the bed with a weary sigh.
Groggily, she leaned against the mound of pillows, finding herself ever grateful for Jacqueline's insistence that she accept help in slipping into Dani's t-shirt. She couldn't even fathom having to manage that all on her own. The pants had been difficult enough! But her stubborn pride would never allow her to admit to it out loud, and she was glad Jacqueline hadn't stayed long enough to witness how weak she was, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Seriously? Crying over a soap opera? Clearly, she must be PMSing.
But she wasn't. And she damned well knew it.
Uncharacteristically, she gave in to her exhaustion, and allowed her body rest, hoping to regain some of her physical strength—not to mention her resolve to track Dani down. She'd been sincere that morning, when she told Dani she was ready to work on their marriage. But she wondered about Dani's reaction—or lack thereof. What had Dani done to need forgiveness? She wondered, recalling her wife's tearful words that morning. And why had she seemed so hesitant, when three days ago, she was begging for Langston to take her to bed?
Allowing these rambling thoughts to monopolize her mind wasn't getting her anywhere. Assumptions would only make her crazy, and she knew it. The only way to get the answers she so desperately wanted was to ask the questions of the one person who knew the truth. And so she set upon doing exactly that.
She struggled briefly, making her way back onto her feet, and then she paused for several moments, regaining her equilibrium. One foot in front of the other, Malloy, she gently reminded herself as she began to move across the room. She made her way, in fits and starts, toward the adjoining bathroom, where she found her jeans, t-shirt, and undergarments draped over the shower rod. They were mostly dry, with the exception of the very bottoms of her pant legs, which were lazily dripping down onto the porcelain edge of the tub from the rainwater that had trickled downward along the fabric.
Reaching up, she searched the pockets of her jeans, finding them empty. No key chains, meaning the keys for her motorcycle, car, and apartment were missing. And unfortunately, her phone was nowhere to be found either. She wondered if Dani might have removed them, leaving them somewhere in the bedroom. Perhaps she just hadn't seen them.
After making what she assumed to be quite the spectacle of herself just trying to use the facilities, she grimaced once again, as she struggled to get the sweatpants back into place. Why the fuck didn't I just bring them in here with me, so I'd only have to do this once? She grumbled inwardly. Annoyed with herself for the lack of planning, she shook her head. That only served to make her dizzy again, and she had to lean against the countertop, steadying herself as she washed her hands and face.
Drying her hands on the thick white hand towel that hung just to her right, she found herself grateful for the placement. Had it been on the other side, she would've been forced to move her left arm, and that was proving more painful by the moment. She wondered briefly if Jacqueline left that bottle of pills on the nightstand by her bed, and then decided that she didn't really want them. She wanted to be clear-headed when talking with Dani, and thus far, those pills had thrown her for a loop.
Righting herself, she moved carefully through the open bathroom door, and back into the bedroom, where she searched, in vain, for her cell phone and keys. Though still slightly dizzy if she moved too swiftly, she was feeling a bit more stable on her feet, and she decided to brave a walk into the sitting area where Dani had first tended to her wound. Perhaps Dani had left her belongings out there.
She moved toward the bedroom door at a measured, but steady, clip. Turning the classic French handle, the heavy wooden door swung open with quiet effortlessness, much to her relief. She felt a rush of cool air, and then the smell of coffee, intermingled with the familiar chatter of a television, greeted her.
Coffee. Maybe that would help her head stop spinning.
As she stepped out into the hall, she noticed a set of French doors at the opposite end, presumably leading to the master suite. Another door, several feet beyond her own, stood open, allowing light to filter into the hallway. The placement of a bathroom, just adjacent to her room, told her that the other open door led to a third bedroom. She wondered briefly why Dani would need a suite with three bedrooms, but quickly set that thought aside, as she turned toward the sound of the television.
Slowly then, she made her way down the short hall, realizing that Dani had placed her in the closest room. Whether it was out of respect for Langston's privacy and the fact that they hadn't lived as a married couple for more than three years—or simply a desire to lessen the distance Langston had to travel—that Dani had chosen not to take her to the master suite, Langston didn't know. And it didn't matter, really. Her heart swelled with gratitude for her wife's thoughtfulness.
My wife, Langston smiled to herself. It had been a long time since she'd thought of Dani in those terms. She found that she liked it.
Finally making it to the sitting room, the scene she witnessed stopped her in her tracks.
"What… Um, what's going on here?" Langston asked, heart pounding in her chest, wounded blue eyes moving back and forth between the room's occupants.
"Lang…" Dani breathed in surprise, a tremulous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Immediately, she was on her feet, her mind scrambling for an explanation. She'd had every intention of telling her the moment she woke up again, but she hadn't counted on Langston making her way out of the bedroom on her own. "I… wasn't expecting you to…"
"Obviously," Langston said dryly, as she surveyed the scene.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Dani asked, concern coloring her voice.
"Looking for you," Langston answered, her brow furrowed.
"How are you feeling?"
"Groggy," Langston muttered. "And… confused. Who?" She couldn't even finish the question.
Dani offered a wobbly smile in response. "Langston, please, come sit down." She patted the arm of the sofa beside her.
"I don't want to sit," Langston scoffed. "I want you to tell me what's going on here. What is it, Dani?" she queried. And then she remembered again, Dani's words, whispered to her as she drifted off to sleep. I love you, Langston… I just hope you can forgive me one last time. "Is this why you think you need my forgiveness?"
Oh, my god. "You heard that?" Dani sounded almost panicked at the realization that Langston might have heard other things that she'd said earlier that morning.
Ignoring the question, Langston pressed, "Or is there something more? What, are you with someone else now?" Afraid of the answer, she immediately regretted the question. But she needed to know the score.
"What? God no, Lang," Dani replied, sounded deeply wounded. Stepping away from the sofa, she moved toward her wife. "How could you even think that?"
"I… I guess I'm not sure what to think right now," Langston admitted.
"There's never been anyone for me, but you, Langston Malloy," Dani whispered, vulnerability in her soft tone, as she gently touched Langston's uninjured arm. "Don't you know that by now?"
A swirl of emotions rolled through Langston's body as she contemplated a response. And then stormy blue eyes moved from Dani's face toward a noise that came from across the room. "Is this is the mysterious thing I needed to know about?" she queried as she gestured toward the source of the noise. "That you decided to have a baby?"
Biting her bottom lip, Dani nodded. "Yes," she said softly. And then, with adoring eyes, she glanced down at the infant who sat playing in the middle of the floor. "This is McKenna."
"McKenna?" Langston breathed, curious blue eyes slowly taking in the sight. She was still in shock over finding Dani on the floor playing with a baby to process anything beyond the initial impact. With a headful of dark curls and the brightest blue eyes Langston had ever seen, she looked remarkably like the beautiful baby boy who had visited Langston in her dreams. "You named her after me?"
"And your mother," Dani said. "Her middle name is Carrigan."
"Why?" Langston asked, befuddled.
"She's yours, Langston," Dani quietly confessed. Gently, her fingertips caressed Langston's face.
Completely taken off-guard, Langston blinked twice, as she grasped the corner of the nearby wall, holding herself upright. "What?"
"She's your daughter," Dani said again. This time, her voice was stronger, more confident. "Yours and mine."
Langston barked out a cynical laugh. "I'm fairly certain I would remember having been pregnant, Dani," she said wryly. "Besides… you were the one who was going to carry…" And then her heart began to race in her chest, blue eyes widening in realization. "Tell me you didn't."
Dani grimaced at the wariness in Langston's voice. "I… I missed you, so much, Lang, and I wanted, I needed to have some small part of you with me, so I… I used one of our embryos," she confessed, her voice telling the story of her intense pain and longing, as she held Langston's face in her hands.
"You had no right to do that without my permission," Langston spat. Her tone was one of bewilderment and barely-restrained fury, as she jerked away from her wife, wincing with pain the moment that she did.
"I had every right," Dani countered firmly. "You're still my wife, and we created those babies together, with every intention of me carrying them for us. You're the one who walked out on our future."
She regretted the words before they even exited her mouth, but there was nothing she could do to take them back. God, I am a stubborn, self-righteous ass, she silently chastised. Why did I say that to her?
Anger wanted to lash out, to make Dani pay for her words, for her actions. But Instinct told her to be quiet—to protect her child at all costs. Interesting, how she'd been a parent for less than a minute, and her first inclination was to nurture and protect. She smiled to herself at the realization that she was someone's mother. Dani had carried the child, but she was McKenna's biological parent. Just the way they had planned.
Anger could wait. Right now, she wanted to know her daughter. "How old is she?"
Releasing an inward sigh of relief that Langston seemed to be calming, Dani smiled proudly. "She just turned eight months," she reported.
"Eight months, huh?" Langston sounded as though she were mulling the fact over in her mind.
"Yeah," Dani breathed. "She's been crawling for a couple of months now. And she pulls up on the sofa and coffee table. And she can even cruise along the edges to the other end," she boasted. "I guess that's kind of unusual so young, but… she has a lot of her Mama's determination in her."
The expression in her eyes, the way she said the word "mama," told Langston that Dani was referring to her.
"She can even say a couple of words already," Dani added to the list of McKenna's grand accomplishments.
"Oh, yeah?" Langston replied, looking rather impressed. "What words?"
"Well, she says 'mama' pretty clearly now. We practice it every day. And she can say 'no' and 'stop' like a champ," Dani chuckled. "I think that's more of her Mama's determination coming through."
Despite herself, Langston grinned at the comment. Coming from Dani, "determination" translated to stubbornness and freakish need for control, and for some reason, Langston found it amusing. "So what you're saying is our kid is kind of a rock star," she commented lightly.
Dani beamed. "Yeah, she kinda is," she said, sounding quite proud.
Shoving a hand into her pocket, Langston nodded, accepting it as fact. Her kid was a rock star.
Feeling rather cocky now, Langston glanced back toward the infant then, watching her with intent curiosity.
McKenna had maneuvered herself around, and now she was lying on her back, one hand grasping her toes, and the other clutching the ear of a fluffy pink and white puppy, the thumb of that hand shoved securely into her mouth. She kicked her free leg, the heel of her tiny foot pounding against the thickly carpeted floor, as she gurgled and chattered to herself. Apparently, she was having quite the stimulating conversation.
Langston's heart swelled with joy as she watched her daughter, and then her thoughts turned to her own mother, and the little boy in her dreams. He looked so much like this little girl that she wondered if they weren't one and the same. She could've easily been wrong about the child's gender, she reasoned.
And yet, there was just something about him…
"My mom would've loved being a grandmother to her," Langston said softly, her gaze affixed on the sweet little girl lying so contentedly on the floor just feet away from her. Her thumb was still firmly embedded in her mouth, the little stuffed puppy dog dangling from her tiny hand by its ear.
At the look of pain that eclipsed Langston's gaze when she spoke of her mother, Dani's heart nearly shattered. She knew what that comment had cost. Tears misted Dani's dark eyes. "Yes, she would have," she quietly agreed. She wanted to say how sorry she was that Carrie would never know her granddaughter, and that McKenna would never know how wonderful her grandmother was, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. The emotions were just too overwhelming, because to think of McKenna never knowing Carrie would force Dani to think about her own mother, and how much they were all missing out on being a family—all thanks to the vileness of her own father. He had been solely responsible for the deaths of both women. She was thankful that he was dead now too.
And then as quickly as it appeared, the sadness left Langston's eyes, her face warming with the soft edges of a smile. Carefully, she moved from her position near the wall, crouching down to the floor. An arm draped across one knee, she leaned forward, her gaze fixed once again on her namesake. "Hi, McKenna," she said, her softly spoken greeting a warm caress even to Dani's ears.
Turning her head toward the sound of her name, McKenna grinned around her thumb. "Mama!" she chirped, chubby legs thumping excitedly against the carpeted floor.
Langston's heart tightened in her chest. Glancing toward Dani with a questioning expression, she found Dani's hands cupped over her mouth and nose, tears clouding those deep onyx eyes.
Unable to form words, Dani offered a wobbly smile, and simply nodded her confirmation. Yes, she knows who you are. She knows because I tell her… Every. Single. Day.
Tears welled up, turning Langston's eyes into oceans of deep blue, as she turned back to her daughter. Overwhelmed with a sense of joy she had never before experienced, her heart hammered beneath her breasts at the sight of her child. She watched in absolute awe, as McKenna twisted her body, maneuvering carefully, until she was somehow standing upright, the thumb and puppy never losing their purchase. And then, on wobbly legs, she began making her way toward Langston, one tentative step at a time.
Dani's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. McKenna had pulled herself upright on many an occasion over the past couple of months, but she had never stood upright without the help of a table or chair. And she had certainly never taken any unassisted steps! And there she was, Dani's baby girl, toddling toward the love of her life, a huge grin of accomplishment on her face.
"Puppy," McKenna announced, shoving the little stuffed dog toward Langston.
Langston accepted the offering, baby drool and all, and firmly declared it the "cutest puppy ever," much to McKenna's delight. She was rewarded with the excited clapping of little hands. "Thank you for sharing her with me," she said sweetly.
McKenna's wide grin showed off her two brand new bottom teeth—they were the only ones in her mouth. They were alone amongst all the slobber; and Langston couldn't help but grin in response. When McKenna wobbled, still unsteady on her feet, Langston easily scooped her up with her uninjured arm, delighting in the little infant giggles that emanated from her small frame.
With three quick, even strides, Langston covered the distance to the sofa. Easing down onto the cushion, she settled McKenna so effortlessly into her lap that Dani would've sworn she'd held her a million times. The child, who rarely went to anyone other than her mother and Mariana, was completely content in Langston's lap, enamored by her company. McKenna's eyes never left Langston's face, as Langston chattered animatedly at her daughter.
Dani's heart swooned at the sight, and then it simultaneously broke at the thought that she might never see such a beautiful sight again. "You'd better be careful," she said, hoping to break intensity of her emotions, "You're in danger of losing your heart."
Glancing up, Langston caught and held Dani's gaze. "I think it's already too late."
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—8:45 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Tentative as they were, those were the last truly peaceful moments Dani ever shared with Langston. Trembling, she forced a return to the present, unable to bear the memory of the events that followed. It took every ounce of strength she had not to just crumble beneath it and fall…
TBC in Chapter 16.9…