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 Wolfe, Lillian Raines, Billy Lewis, and Buzz, Frank, Marina, and Henry Cooper are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Bianca Montgomery, Kendal Hart Slater, Zach Slater, and Greenlee Smythe belong to ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters Detective Sargent Langston Malloy and Attorney Danika Kováč, and their daughter McKenna, Judge Bennett Thomas and her daughters, Rian and Lauren, Jake, Jen, and Jacqueline Morgan, and Toni Martin 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. 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 to my friend newfan64, for their ongoing willingness to edit my stories. Words cannot express how much I appreciate the two of you and your steadfast support of me, both personally, and as a would-be writer. Thank you to all who continue to read and/or comment. I appreciate the time you have invested in this story, and truly hope you continue to enjoy.
Finally, this update is very heavy on the Langston/Dani (or as WickedWanda calls them, DANG) storyline. Again, I apologize for the unbalanced content, and promise there is much more Otalia to come. The loose ends are almost tied up, and soon we can all move forward together.
Rating: This section of Chapter 16 is rated PG-13 for some mild profanity and veiled sexual references.
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 16.12 – A Few Fireworks of Our Own:
Saturday, July 4, 2009… Gwen Matthews' Residence—8:15 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"Conclusions? Ha!"
Delivered on a sharp laugh, Langston's response sounded almost offended, but it felt more like weariness to her. "I still can't even reach anything in the cupboards above my refrigerator, let alone reach an actual conclusion about what the fuck I'm supposed to do about my life."
Gwen made a face at her. "I realize that you're deflecting because this is difficult, Langston, but I'm concerned about you," she said forthrightly.
Langston responded with a wobbly smile. "I know. And… thank you," she said sheepishly.
She stilled for a moment, her thoughts running rampant. And then she met Gwen's tender gaze, noticing, not for the first time, the tiny flecks of green and gold that flickered in their depths. "Honestly, Gwen," she said with a sigh, "Even the things I thought I knew with absolute certainty, I'm not even sure of anymore."
"Meaning?" Her expression intent, Gwen crossed her legs, tucking her bare feet up beneath her.
The corner of Langston's mouth turned upward in a wry grin. "You're trying to shrink me again, aren't you?"
Gwen smiled. "Not at all," she denied. "Just trying to help you think things through out loud."
"And that's different from shrinking, how?" Langston countered.
"I don't serve my clients beer on my sofa," Gwen bantered.
Laughing, Langston agreed that Gwen had a point. Pointedly taking another swig of her Fürsten Trunk, she set the bottle on the end table. "When I left Chicago, I was certain that I would never forgive Dani for what she did," she shared. "I never wanted to set eyes on her again, never wanted to hear her voice…"
Her own voice turned quiet as she ended her comment, allowing the thought to linger in the dark and lonely corridors of her heart and soul. Seeing Dani, hearing her voice again, had rocked Langston in a place so deep she wondered if she would ever recover from it. And then she'd heard the truth—been forced to deal with the reality of all that she had lost, simply because she had chosen to doubt the intentions of the one person she was supposed to trust with everything. How could she have ever doubted Dani?
"And now?" Gwen gently prodded.
"I can't stop thinking about who we used to be," Langston answered. "And I can't help wondering if we could be that way again."
"Is that what you want?"
"What I want is to not make another mistake where she's concerned," Langston answered. "It's not just the two of us anymore. We have McKenna to consider."
"And you expect yourself to be perfect when it comes to the two of them?" Gwen gently challenged.
"Well, no," Langston replied, a sheepish expression on her face. "Not when you put it like that."
Delivered on a wry tone, Langston's comment brought a knowing grin to Gwen's lips. "Then what is it that you expect of yourself?"
Head bowed, Langston fell silent for several minutes, contemplating. And then she glanced up, meeting Gwen's questioning gaze. "I expect to make decisions with a clear, rational mind, so that no one gets hurt."
"You're afraid of being hurt again," Gwen surmised.
"Isn't everyone?" Langston countered mildly.
Gwen couldn't argue the point. "I imagine they are," she conceded. "But I think most people see the reward being worth the risk."
"Yeah, and I would agree if it was just me," Langston said. "I can't afford to think emotionally anymore. Too much is at stake."
"So emotional reasoning scares you," Gwen ventured.
"I don't trust myself," Langston divulged.
"Because?" Gwen prodded.
"It just seems like every time I make a decision based upon my emotions, it ends up being a cluster-fuck," Langston admitted. "When I think rationally, I'm in control."
"And control is important to you," Gwen noted. It wasn't a question.
"Very," Langston answered without hesitation. "The ability to think rationally in stressful situations has saved my life more times than I can remember." Both personally and on the job, she thought, but didn't say. "It's crucial."
"When you put it that way, I can see how important it is," Gwen conceded.
Langston leveled her with a formidable glare. "But?" she queried.
"Who says there's a 'but'?" Gwen countered.
"Your tone says there is," Langston replied, her tone a bit more snippy than she'd intended. "Come on, Gwen, I need your help here. Tell me what you think."
Now Gwen had her opening. She wasn't one to give unsolicited advice to friends. She never did with clients. But she'd been chomping at the bit to tell Langston what she thought of the situation.
"What I think…" she began, measuring her words carefully, "is that you have a wife who loves you, and who you obviously still love. And you have a beautiful baby girl…" she added, glancing toward the toddler who lay on a pallet on the floor nearby, babbling quietly to herself, as she grasped her own tiny toes. "…who deserves to grow up with the two parents who love her, and each other, instead of being shipped back and forth on alternate weekends and holidays."
Pausing then, Gwen allowed Langston to digest her comments. And after several minutes of silence, she ventured on. "I know that Dani hurt you, and I don't blame you for being angry, Langston," she said gently. "But find a way to get beyond it, before it's too late."
Surprised by the comment, Langston immediately looked up, meeting Gwen's steady gaze. "See, that's the thing, Gwen," she said with urgency. "I stopped being angry with her the moment I first set eyes on our daughter."
"You sure seemed angry with her when you came by that evening," Gwen challenged.
"It was easier than facing the truth," Langston shrugged.
"And what truth is that?" Gwen asked, delving deeper into the mystery that was Langston Malloy.
"I was already wavering once she told me the truth about why she defended her father," Langston admitted. "And then I saw McKenna, and all I wanted was to gather the two of them in my arms, and never let them go."
"Then what's stopping you?"
"I'm stopping me," Langston answered, emphasizing the root cause of the issue.
"Why?" Gwen pressed without hesitation. She could feel the rising tension as Langston moved closer to her truth—the truth that might break open the floodgates, and allow her friend the opportunity to move forward with her life.
"Because I can't forgive myself for everything my own stubbornness has cost me," Langston admitted, her voice cracking with emotion.
"You blame yourself for all of this," Gwen commented evenly.
"Well, yes, of course," Langston said in a tone that clearly indicated Gwen should have known it all along. Who else would I blame? she asked internally, but didn't dare voice.
"Who else would you blame, right?" Gwen astutely ventured.
Langston's blue eyes widened in astonishment. "How did you…"
A gentle smile blanketed Gwen's face. "It's what I do," she answered without hearing the entire question spoken aloud.
Nodding, Langston accepted Gwen's explanation.
"Who says there's anyone at all to blame here?" Gwen asked gently.
"I suppose the answer you're looking for is… I do," Langston answered begrudgingly.
"I'm not personally looking for an answer at all," Gwen countered. "I'm just trying to help you clarify your own point of view."
Langston didn't speak a word, but the grin on her face spoke volumes.
"Why the smile?" Gwen prodded.
"That's just a very… shrink-ish thing to say," Langston pointed out, emphasizing the "shrink" part.
Gwen laughed softly. "Yes, I suppose it is."
They fell silent again—Langston lost in thought, and Gwen allowing her the space to process. Moments expired, their passage marked by the ticking of the ornate Grandfather clock that stood regally in the far corner of the room, interspersed with the McKenna's squeals of amusement and delight, as she interacted with the pile of gently-used toys Gwen had produced from a heavy wooden toy box at the back of her bedroom closet the first time Langston brought her for a visit.
"How do you forgive yourself for everything you never became?" Langston wondered aloud after several minutes.
Genuine affection softened Gwen's expression. "You start by acknowledging everything you already are," she tutored knowingly.
"That's not enough," Langston argued, as McKenna toddled toward her with a mostly toothless grin on her face, and a stuffed white and yellow bunny rabbit in her hand.
When the child reached her knee, Langston leaned down, effortlessly lifting her into her lap. Immediately, McKenna snuggled against her chest, shoving a thumb into her mouth. "Dani and McKenna deserve more from me," she declared, as she brushed a kiss against her daughter's dark curls.
"You're a work-in-progress, Langston," Gwen countered. "We all are."
"You really believe that?" Langston questioned. Absently, her fingertips feathered through soft dark curls, massaging McKenna's scalp with smooth, familiar strokes.
"I believe the moment we stop trying to better ourselves, we begin to decay," Gwen said forthrightly. "One way or another, we're always in a state of change."
"Yeah, and what if my change is toward becoming more like my father, instead of less?" Langston queried, emphasizing the measurements. The mere thought of it made the blood in her veins turn cold. Her body stiffened visibly, and McKenna reacted instantaneously to the change.
A wry smile flickered across Langston's face, and she leaned down, brushing her lips against the top of her daughter's head. In less than two weeks she had acclimated to being a mother, and now she felt as though McKenna had always been in her world. She wouldn't have traded a single moment of it for anything.
"How likely do you really believe that is to happen?" Gwen challenged with a touch of incredulousness in her tone. The question was rhetorical, and they both knew it. "Look, Langston," she continued a moment later. "Dani doesn't expect perfection. She just wants to be with you, exactly the way you are. Hasn't it always been that way?"
Langston considered the question for several moments, remembering how willingly Dani overlooked her penchant towards irrational anger, and incessant need for control, as well as every other flaw she possessed. Sure, she gave her shit about it—but only because she understood her. "Yeah," she finally said. "I guess she has."
"Then what makes you think that's changed?" Gwen challenged.
"I don't," Langston sighed, almost wearily. And then a wry grin trickled across her lips. "This is all in my head, isn't it?"
With a knowing chuckle, Gwen left Langston to her conclusions.
"My arguments sound so much more convincing when I don't actually say them out loud," Langston commented dryly.
"That's why it's good to process with a friend," Gwen replied.
"Or a shrink?" Langston teased.
"No comment," Gwen mumbled.
They laughed together then, as a sense of peace finally settled inside the dark corridors of Langston's lonely heart. "Thank you," she said with sincerity, her blue eyes meeting Gwen's tender gaze. "I don't know how I would've managed the past couple of weeks without you."
Though it hadn't been easy for Gwen to set aside the romantic feelings she held for Langston, she'd found a way to make it happen, and having talked frequently since that night when Langston showed up at her door, the two of them had grown infinitely closer, forging a deeper friendship than either had ever anticipated. And for that, they were both grateful beyond words.
"Lucky for you, Detective Malloy," Gwen said with a touch of playfulness, as she patted Langston's thigh, "you'll never have to find out."
They shared a smile, and then Gwen said with decisiveness, "Now, as much as I'd love to lounge around here with you, watching the fireworks display over the Capitol, I think you have much better prospects this evening."
"Oh, do I?" Langston sounded intrigued.
"Indeed, you do," Gwen declared. "I think it's time you take your little Sleeping Beauty here," she said with the tilting of her head toward the child who was snuggled against Langston's chest. "And go be with your wife."
Langston couldn't keep the grin from her lips as she considered the possibility of being with Dani that night—of holding her, and kissing her, and touching her in ways she hadn't allowed herself the pleasure of in years. And finally, she found herself with no other choice than to admit, both to herself and to Gwen, "There's nothing in this world I want more."
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Bauer Barbecue—8:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Lifting an arm above her head, Doris Wolfe glanced languorously at the expensive gold watch that adorned her left wrist, noting the time. Daylight was slowly giving way to dusk. The fireworks display would soon be underway, and still, there was no sign of Olivia or Natalia. "Something tells me we're not going to see them again this evening," she commented to Bennett in response to her partner's casual mention of their friends. A sly grin played across her expressive mouth.
"And what makes you say that, Darling?" Bennett queried in that slow, distinctly Southern drawl of hers. She glanced sideways at her partner, and offered a knowing grin. "You're not jealous, are you?"
"Yes," Doris pouted in response without a moment's hesitation.
Bennett rolled onto her side, and inching closer to Doris, she slid a knee between Doris's thighs as they sprawled on the quilt beneath the huge Oak. "Oh, really?" she questioned, her tone low and sultry, as she propped her head against the base of her hand.
Languidly, she trailed a fingertip along the smooth, graceful column of Doris's neck, delighting in the subtle twitch of muscle as her lover's pulse jumped beneath her touch. Her own pulse reacted, sending a shock of heat racing toward a very distinct point between her legs. She gasped softly in surprise, and continued her journey, sliding that fingertip down into the valley between tantalizing breasts. They weren't nearly as perky as they had been in Doris's youth—neither were Bennett's own, for that matter. Still, they were as exciting and stimulating to Bennett as they had ever been—and quite possibly, even more beautiful. Just a glimpse of that subtle curve, the slight swell of them, and Bennett turned wet, aching to see more.
"Mm…" Doris nodded and moaned, as the warm of Bennett's mouth, that smooth, slick tongue met the soft flesh at the swell of her left breast. Instinctively, her fingers tangled in the dark locks at the base of Bennett's neck, holding her firmly against heated flesh.
"Really, Mom?" Lauren playfully rebuked, as she approached the quilt where the two grown women frolicked like hormonal teenagers, without regard for those around them.
Tearing herself away from Doris's breast, Bennett looked up, a sheepish expression on her face. She found her daughter standing above, arms crossed over her chest, one hip sharply jutted out in a stance that would have clearly announced her displeasure—if not for the subtle grin on her lips.
"Uh, hi, Sweetie," Bennett greeted, trying to stifle a blush. She righted herself, crossing her legs, her bare feet tucked up beneath her. Doris sat up beside her, a devilish grin plastered across her face.
Lauren arched an eyebrow. "Is this what I have to look forward to if I come home unexpectedly?" she teased.
"Oh, no, Honey," Doris answered reassuringly. And then that grin returned. "I imagine that would be far worse."
A hearty laugh burst from deep in Bennett's chest, and Doris readily joined her. Lauren simply rolled her eyes. "The two of you are ridiculous," she said good-humoredly.
"Are you coming home tonight?" Bennett asked straightforwardly.
A sculpted blonde eyebrow arched again. "I think I'll take my chances at Rian's," she said warily. "She doesn't seem too inclined to take anyone home."
"Oh, you mean the redhead?" Doris inquired, curiosity piqued. "Because it looked to me like she was more interested in you, than your sister."
Lauren laughed sharply. "That's crazy," she said passively. "I'm not even a lesbian. Besides, she was totally fangirling all over Rian today."
"Fangirling, yes," Doris conceded. "But not crushing. That's what she was doing over you."
"Stop it," Lauren protested, embarrassed. She could feel her face flushing, and hoped the impending darkness would help to cover the response.
"Oh, all right," Doris relented with a sigh. She glanced at Bennett, who was grinning at her. "What?" she said, feigning innocence.
"Shit-disturber," Bennett accused lightly.
Doris made a face at her. And then she looked pointedly at Lauren. "Which one of you ended up with her number?"
The corner of Lauren's mouth curled into a disconcerted twist. "I did," she muttered.
Doris grinned, looking rather pleased with herself. "I rest my case."
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—9:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
"You know, Kendall," Dani said with quiet contemplation, as the fireworks crackled around them. The brilliant colors were dimmed by an inner sense of melancholy. "It's almost like I've been recycling through the grieving process these past few weeks."
Considering Dani's experience for a moment, Kendall nodded understandingly. "That makes a lot of sense," she replied, normalizing the experience.
"It does?" Dani questioned, sounding unconvinced. She needed someone to challenge her if she was wrong, not placate her with blind agreement.
"Well, yeah," Kendall said, sounding convinced. "You weren't expecting to see Langston again, and all of a sudden, this person you've grieved over is back in your life."
"Is it weird that the process seems so chaotic this time?" Dani asked.
"From what Bianca says, the stages are rarely linear," Kendall tutored. "They're more cyclical, and rather messy."
Dani breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good to know," she commented. "I've been driving myself crazy, wondering what was wrong. I mean, it's bad enough I've been away from McKenna, but this thing with Langston…"
She sighed, allowing the words to trail off as she fell silent for several moments. "It's just all very confusing. She sends me texts with pictures of McKenna, or little stories about these cute little things that McKenna is doing, but there's never a word about us."
"I imagine the uncertainty of things makes it even more difficult," Kendall presumed.
"Yeah," Dani said quietly. "It does. My heart skips a best every time I see her name light up on my phone. And then I feel disappointment, followed by guilt, because I'm not happy with just a picture or a few sentences about my daughter. I want a little piece of Langston, too. It feels like… missing someone when they're in the same room with you."
Sensing a sudden, inexplicable urgency to get her mind off of Langston, Dani turned to Kendall then, dark eyes studying the green-eyed beauty. "Sounds like you've experienced something similar," she said inquiringly. "The perpetual grief thing, I mean."
Kendall laughed softly. "Oh, please," she said with a dismissive hand gesture, the swift change of topic having not been lost on her. "Grieving over Greenlee seems to have become a hobby for me," she commented.
"I'm really sorry to hear that," Dani said empathically.
A faint smile played across Kendall's face. "No need, really," she said. "She's walked out on me more times than I can count. And don't get me started on the times I thought she was dead," she said in a wry tone. "Zach, too, for that matter," she added, her intonation decidedly more emotional.
Dani eyed her curiously. "Dead?"
Nodding, Kendall shrugged almost nonchalantly. "Multiple times, actually. They even disappeared together once," she reported, referring to the time Zach and Greenlee had found themselves stranded in a bomb shelter, and presumed dead by everyone in Pine Valley."
"That must've been really devastating, believing you'd lost both of them," Dani empathized.
"It was," Kendall quietly affirmed. "When they were found alive, I felt like I'd been given a miracle—a second chance to get things right with Zach. I lost track of the number of chances I'd had with Greenlee by that point, but suffice it to say, it was a lot. We have a love-hate relationship, but it's more love than hate at this point, I think. I have Zach to thank for that, too."
"Anyone ever equate your life to a soap opera?" Dani queried, trying not to sound amused. It was difficult, given Kendall's flippant tone.
"Yeah," Kendall snorted. "A bad one."
Dani grinned. "Taking it all in stride, eh?"
"What choice do I have at this point?" Kendall queried rhetorically. "Pine Valley seems to raise more dead people than Jesus. Must be something in the water."
Unable to hold back her laugh this time, Dani snorted, and the noise was so comical, Kendall couldn't help but join her. Kendall's unique brand of irreverent humor was infectious. And she had to admit, no matter how macabre the subject, she felt better after laughing it off with her newfound friend.
"Anyway," Kendall said, breaking through their laughter. "I didn't mean to be quite so flippant about all of this. I know you're really hurting right now, and my smartass comments probably aren't much help."
"On the contrary," Dani interjected. "Thanks for lightening this up," she said. "I can get a little melancholy at times."
Her face sobering, Kendall regarded Dani with tenderness. "Melancholy can be cathartic in small doses," she remarked. "You just don't wanna let yourself live there."
"Agreed," Dani said with a nod.
"So how long do you plan on staying here with my crazy family?" Kendall asked lightly.
"I was considering going back in the morning, actually," Dani announced. "But Bianca said something just tells her I need to say a bit longer."
Kendall smiled. "My sister is rarely wrong about such things," she commented. She feigned deep contemplation, and then added, "It's rather annoying, actually."
Delivered with a droll lilt, Kendall's comment brought a grin to Dani's face. "Yes, I imagine so."
Saturday, July 4, 2009… The Bauer Barbecue—9:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Jacqueline Morgan had been positively beside herself when her text alert sounded a mere thirty minutes prior. It was her beloved niece—the one she feared she'd lost forever. Langston had asked permission to see her, without offering explanation as to why. Despite the ambiguity of the request, Jacqueline responded with a swift agreement, her heart swelling with hope. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she filled her daughter-in-law Jen in on the development, and without hesitation, Jen expressed a sense of delight at the prospect of getting to know the other woman as family, rather than a detective working a case.
And now, as she watched her niece approaching with sure, steady strides, those blue eyes shining with joy, Jacqueline knew without words that Langston had been forgiven for her transgressions.
Langston met Jacqueline's steady gaze, but didn't immediately engage with her. Instead, she paused several yards away, greeting her Chief warmly when she encountered him. She took a moment, chatting with him briefly.
"It's good to see you, Malloy," Frank said in a gruff, yet congenial tone.
"Likewise, Chief," Langston returned pleasantly.
McKenna, who had awakened from her nap the moment the car stopped, squealed with delight in her mother's arms, drawing a chuckle from Langston. "Seems my daughter doesn't like to be kept out of conversations," she added, by way of introduction.
If Frank was surprised by the revelation, he didn't show it. "What's her name?" he asked interestedly. "How old is she?"
"This is McKenna. She's almost nine months," Langston answered proudly.
Frank reached out, lightly pinching a chubby cheek. "Well, McKenna, it's nice to meet you," he said, sweetly acknowledging the baby. And then he turned his attention back to his detective. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Langston responded automatically. "Thanks, Chief." She paused for a moment, and then said, "Actually, I wanted to talk with you about my leave…"
Holding up a hand, Frank halted the statement. "You have more than enough time available, Malloy," he said, almost as if he knew where she was headed. "Take what you need, and let me know when you're ready to come back."
Langston's blue eyes practically twinkled when she smiled. "Thanks," she said appreciatively.
"Don't mention it," Frank replied with a nod. "Listen, you have a good evening. Enjoy the fireworks with your baby girl," she said, remembering years past when he'd shared them with Marina, even as he hoped to share them with his newest little girl someday, as well. "I'll see you soon."
With that, he excused himself, and headed toward the cluster of tables near the back patio of the Bauer home. Marina was there, his grandson Henry bouncing in her lap as she chatted with Lillian and Buzz; the two of them having apparently recovered from their annual tryst in the woods. And as he approached, Billy Lewis joined them at the table, so he knew the conversation would be lively.
Turning from her chief, Langston pivoted on one foot, and quickly moved across the yard in the opposite direction—a woman on a mission to beg forgiveness.
Jacqueline watched as Langston drew near, the warmth in those deep blue eyes enveloping her, just as her sister Carrie's once had. She smiled in response, the love she felt for her sister's child reflecting in her dark, expressive eyes. "It's wonderful to see you, Sweetheart," she greeting warmly.
Without another moment of hesitation, Langston went to Jacqueline, pulling her into an embrace.
"I love you," Langston said softly, as she held her aunt close against her, McKenna firmly tucked between them.
"I love you too," Jacqueline whispered against Langston's ear, as she returned the embrace with equal force and emotion. Langston was her closest connection to the sister she had lost, and it broke her heart to think that she felt so betrayed. "I'm so sorry for hurting you."
"I'm the one who's sorry, Jacqué," Langston murmured. "I never should've spoken to you the way that I did. And I certainly shouldn't have blamed you for anything."
"No, Langston," Jacqueline countered. "I should've told you. I…"
Shaking her head, Langston halted Jacqueline's comments. "None of this was your fault," she insisted. "It's mine. If I hadn't left, so many things would be different. Dani and I wouldn't have lost our son. And I would've known about McKenna from the start."
McKenna took the mention of her name as a cue to begin protesting being squished between the two women. Laughing, they separated, and McKenna instinctively reached out for Jacqueline. It was obvious that her daughter knew her aunt, and that caused an emotional response in Langston that she hadn't anticipated. It was an odd mixture of thankfulness and sadness. Thankful that her daughter had always known the love of this wonderful woman—and sad that she had missed out on their initial bonding experiences. She had no intention of missing out on anything more.
Smiling into the eyes of Langston's mirror image, Jacqueline murmured softly to the child, as she accepted her from Langston's arms. "Oh, yes, that's right. Come to Aunt Jacqué, my sweet girl."
Affectionately, she peppered the child's face with kisses, and Langston immediately saw an entirely new side to her aunt. It wasn't that she'd never seen her being affectionate—she hugged and kissed Jake, and Langston and her brothers, all the time when they were children. But she seemed somehow… unrestrained now, as she cuddled McKenna in her arms. The change made her curious, and she vowed to find a way to better understand her enigmatic aunt.
And then she turned her attention from Jacqueline to Jen, who stood quietly nearby. Stepping closer, she extended a hand in greeting. "I suppose it's time I truly introduced myself," she said sheepishly. "I'm Jake's cousin, Langston."
"It's a pleasure, Langston," Jen said warmly as she accepted the detective's proffered hand. "I'm so glad to see you. I wanted to say thank you for all you've done for my family."
"All I've done?" Langston questioned, sounding confused. She'd relentlessly grilled the woman's partner, accusing her of vile acts against their children, and this woman was thanking her?
"Jacqueline told me you stayed on the case, despite your reservations, to protect my boys," Jen explained.
Burying her hands in the pockets of her low-slung jeans, Langston nodded. "That, I did," she conceded. "I would do anything to protect your family, Jennifer. And that includes your partner." She shrugged, as if to indicate there was nothing more to say.
"Well, thank you," Jen said sincerely. "I'm looking forward to more time with Jacqueline," she declared. "And I hope that means you'll be around more too. I know you meant a lot to Jake, and I'd love for my boys to know you."
Langston grinned, pleased by the spirit of the invitation. "Jake meant a lot to me, as well," she shared, a hint of sorrow in her tone. "And I was hoping McKenna would have a chance to know her cousins."
"Then it seems we're in agreement," Jen proclaimed with a triumphant smile.
"Indeed," Langston said firmly.
"Okay," Jen said with a sense of finality. "I think the fireworks are about to begin, and I need to track down my wayward fiancée and our children," she grinned. "I'll be in touch though. Maybe a barbeque weekend after next?"
"That sounds perfect," Langston readily agreed. "I'll see you then."
Jen turned to Jacqueline then, excusing herself. And then, with a gentle squeeze of Langston's forearm, she was gone.
"Do you think we could find a place to talk?" Langston asked of Jacqueline after Jen's departure.
Jacqueline responded with a warm smile. "Yes, of course, darling."
Bamboo tiki-torches blazed with flickering firelight, illuminating the edges of the back patio, and they walked together toward an abandoned table near the far edge. Only a few guests still lingered at the tables, some snacking on leftovers, others sipping on domestic beers and mixed drinks as they talked in hushed tones. Most had gathered on blankets and lawn chairs out in the center of the huge backyard, awaiting the start of the annual Bauer fireworks display.
Upon arrival, Langston pulled out a chair for her aunt, before taking a seat beside her. Jacqueline thanked her, and settled into the chair, McKenna snuggling against her chest with a sleepy yawn. "Seems our girl is ready for bed," she commented.
"Yeah," Langston agreed. "She usually passes out around seven thirty, and wakes up for a bottle around midnight."
"Still not sleeping through the night, huh?" Jacqueline questioned lightly.
"Is that abnormal?" Langston sounded concerned.
"No, not at all," Jacqueline said reassuringly. "I was just thinking how unfortunate for you and Dani," she grinned.
Langston grunted.
Fireflies danced, and silence fell between them, amplifying the sounds of crickets and frogs chirping and croaking nearby. It sounded so much like the evenings at Carlyle Lake, and that reminded Langston of Dani, and the reason she'd felt propelled to find Jacqueline tonight.
"You think I'm a stubborn ass, don't you?" she asked, cutting to the chase after finally summoning the courage. Her expression was almost sheepish as she anticipated her aunt's response.
Caught off guard, Jacqueline studied Langston's face in the firelight, attempting to read her, get a handle on where she was coming from—and where she was going with such a question. As guarded as her niece often was, it didn't take much to read the sadness and uncertainty in those blue eyes. "About Dani?" she queried knowingly.
"Yes," Langston answered quietly.
"I think you were in a lot of pain, Sweetheart," Jacqueline answered gently. Rubbing McKenna's back in slow circles, she pressed a kiss to the soft curls on the top of her head.
"That doesn't answer my question," Langston countered.
"Yes, I think you're a stubborn ass," Jacqueline replied with a touch of humor in her tone. "Does that make you feel any better?"
"Not really," Langston sighed.
"I can't imagine why," Jacqueline said dryly.
Langston made a face at her. And then her expression turned contemplative. "You knew why, didn't you?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Why she defended him?" Jacqueline clarified.
"Uh-huh," Langston muttered.
"Yes, I did," Jacqueline confirmed.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Why didn't I just know?
"Anytime I brought Dani up, you shut me down, Langston," Jacqueline answered, keeping her tone as non-confrontational as possible.
"And that's why you never told me about my son, or about McKenna," Langston surmised.
"I wanted to…"
"I believe you," Langston sighed in confession, eyes downcast. "I really am a stubborn ass."
Ignoring the self-deprecating comment, Jacqueline arched a perfectly chiseled eyebrow. "Are the two of you going to stop this ridiculousness now, and just get on with your life?"
Startled from her self-indulgent inner castigation, Langston glanced up, meeting Jacqueline's steady gaze. "What?"
"You heard me," Jacqueline said in a tone that tolerated no argument.
Langston couldn't help but grin. For most of her life, she remembered her aunt as a quiet, unassuming woman, but on rare occasion, she would catch a glimpse of the physician in her—the strong, decisive woman who took no guff from anyone. She hoped to see more of this woman in the years to come. "I sure hope so, Jacqué," she admitted. "I still love her more than I ever thought possible. I just… I hope she can forgive me for being such an asshole."
A soft smile graced Jacqueline's lips in response. "I think I'm holding your answer right here in my arms."
She didn't need to elaborate. Langston knew. Tears filled Langston's blue eyes, turning them a deep shade of purple, as Jacqueline's words permeated her heart. "Yes, I suppose you are," she quietly agreed. She smiled through her tears then, announcing, "I think it's time I go find my wife."
Jacqueline's smile reached her eyes. "I think that's the wisest decision you've made in years."
Nodding, Langston could do nothing but agree.
Saturday, July 4, 2009… Out and About in Springfield—9:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"Think anyone missed us?" Olivia wondered aloud, as she navigated the backroads that would take them back to the Bauer's place on the far side of town.
"Don't you?" Natalia countered.
Olivia arched an eyebrow suggestively, and grinned. "You don't suppose they knew what we were doing, do ya?"
"Seriously?" Natalia sounded amused. "We've been gone for nearly six hours, Liv. Even I would've figured out what we were doing."
Olivia snorted. At least Natalia recognized her own penchant toward naiveté. "You have a point."
A comfortable silence fell between them then, the only sounds being the low murmur of the radio and the hum of the tires against the pavement. Reaching over, Natalia grasped Olivia's hand in her own, pulling it into her lap. And together, they enjoyed the random bursts of fireworks that displayed over the treetops as they wended their way through the curves and valleys along Old Route 36 toward Clear Lake Avenue that would take them through the heart of Springfield, and back to the annual Bauer Barbecue where they would be reunited with family and friends just in time for the big Independence Day fireworks finale.
Life was good.
TBC in Chapter 16.13…