A Love Story

27)

Myrtle Fargate considered Zach Slater to be a fine man, especially when you consider just how many not-so-fine men there were in Pine Valley. For a long time, she had thought that Ryan and Kendall would be the two who would survive everything, that she'd get the chance to see their children wreaking havoc in Pine Valley and being adorable while they did it.

It had been with a quiet sort of sadness that she'd realized that she would never see what she had so dreamed of for Kendall.

Now, though, she had begun to think that, just maybe, Kendall still had a chance at what she'd always wanted. And if Ryan Lavery thought she was going to sit back and let him ruin what she wanted for Kendall, the weenie had another thing coming… something coming in the form of an elderly yet spunky carnie with a bit of a crush on Zach Slater.

Palmer Cortlandt had handled the news given to him by an excited Opal rather well considering; although when he found out that that jackass Adam Chandler had known for weeks, it had been only Petey's pleas that had kept from tracking down the other rich old bastard and doing something extremely nasty to him.

Okay, fine, it was also Opal threatening him with a broom that had kept him in the Cortlandt home, simply seething as he had counted down the hours until JR got Dixie to the Martin home. Although he knew that JR was right in his insistence that Dixie have a good night's sleep before dragging her into the chaos and Hell that was the tangled Martin/Chandler/Cortlandt family tree.

Now, finally, he paced the living room of the Martin home, eyeing with slight irritation the young woman that Petey was ogling with wide eyes, his teenage hormones going full force. Granted, she didn't have much in the chest area but she was a pretty thing and his youngest child was all too happy to enjoy the view as she set out the food that Ruth had made over the last hours.

The young woman, Amy something-or-other, was vaguely familiar in a way that any Pine Valley citizen learned to be afraid of and he found himself glaring at her with narrowed eyes, trying to figure it out. Yet, he couldn't, not with why he was there in the first place, swearing under his breath every few minutes.

Dixie's nearest and dearest, gathered together to welcome her home and see her for themselves… Palmer focused on ignoring the way Opal was whispering with the new girl, who was apparently not Tad's favorite person—at least to judge by the way he glared at her—and he winced when he heard the words "Tarot" and "fun-time" in the same sentence.

Just what he needed at the moment, somebody to play with Opal's cards with her at all hours of the day… when he heard the unmistakable sound of Adam and Brooke's muffled bickering, he stuck out his chest and prepared for battle, beginning his tirade the second the Chandler patriarch set foot in the living room.

And Adam walked right by him, Brooke right at his back, tapping him in annoyance with her hand-bag as he started picking at the plates of food, earning a sigh of defeat from Ruth, who left to get the next tray of cheese and meat. Amy, however, favored the eldest Chandler with a slightly peeved look.

"These are supposed to be for that woman who died but isn't dead… these aren't for you," she stated with an oddly hysterical air of an irritated baby-sitter. Adam stared at her for a few moments, looked down at the slice of club sandwich that he held and offered her a wicked smirk before popping it into his mouth.

The chest-less wonder looked rather irritated, leaning closer to Brooke and whispering quite loudly, "Am I supposed to be afraid of him or something?"

Brooke snorted, shook her head and smiled lightly, eyes sparkling as she whispered just as loudly back, "No, he just likes to think you should be." She cocked her head, studied the young woman more intently. "Who are you?"

"Just the crazy lady who has no actual idea who you people are… but Mr. and Mrs. Martin are giving me a really great room with about zero rent so I should help, right?" Amy beamed, and then took Brooke's hand, pumping it warmly. "I'm Amy Cohen. Please call me Amy. Now, um, I have to go help Mrs. Martin with the food."

Stuart simply set out the pies he had baked, mumbling to himself as he shifted them repeatedly, apparently searching for the right set up and Marian finally led him away to sit by Joe, who was nervously twiddling his thumbs and muttering under his breath. Palmer swore to himself, shaking himself and then heard the unmistakable sound of a car door opening and then slamming.

He felt Joe surge to his back, and then Tad nearly bowled him over when he lunged for the front door, grabbing onto the doorknob and pushing against it twice before swearing and yanking it open and was none too gently shoved aside by what had to be the smallest female Palmer had ever set his eyes on.

Micaela Kincaide found herself the focus of a massive group of people, from a teenage boy who immediately began focusing on her breasts to an old man who was just sort of glaring at her. She frowned, cocked her head, wondering if she'd had the address right in any way… and then she spotted the female following Ruth Martin out of the kitchen.

And Amy noticed her, a huge grin coming over her face as she set the plate down on the table and threw up her arms in a rather ridiculous show of girlish glee. "You're here… Wait, I thought you were in Switzerland… what are doing here?"

"Visiting." Micaela glanced at Tad, reached out and patted his cheek playfully. "Thanks for being such a gentleman, Mr. Martin." She turned, cocked an eyebrow at Amy and stalked across the room, looping an arm through Amy's and dragging the taller woman up the stairs, where she hoped her room was. "Let's go, we have things to discuss."

Kendall was smiling at him, lips curved up like a Cheshire cat, hazy blue eyes of her fine and flawless and glittering with mirth as she gazed at him over her cards… "I so kicked your ass this round," she sang softly and he was only barely able to bite back the grin that the laughter in her voice brought on.

He studied his own cards, studying them for long moments before grinning at her, his careful control slipping up for a moment of glee, something he'd never experienced from just a look like that from someone, but then, she was making him feel and do things he'd never known he had in him.

Kendall was becoming the most pleasant surprise Zach had ever encountered in his life.

He eyed her, with hazel eyes warm with humor, and he managed to clear away the grin for a moment before he got a full dose of that grin again and he rubbed his mouth, looking away for a moment before looking back and observing her. "You, Madame, are no lady."

She burst out laughing for a split second, a explosive guffaw before she clapped a hand over her mouth and it caused light to flash off the massive rock that adorned her finger, the one he had slipped on as a way to get what he wanted and he had ended up finding what he had always needed.

"What are you gonna say next hubby, 'frankly my dear, I don't give a damn'?"

He studied her intensely, silently, acutely aware of her scent as she leaned across the table and scooped the amount of Poker chips away from him and towards her side, cackling softly as she did and tossing her curls, looking every bit the wife triumphant and his fingers fiddled with the cards that hadn't won him this game, watching her and enjoying her joy at his expense.

And then she picked up on his focus and looked up, staring at him with her eyes half-hidden beneath her eyelids, long lashes shielding herself from him and he was even more aware of her, even more aware of how wonderful she smelled, how she was just close enough for him to pick up on the warmth that saturated her.

She reached for the remaining chips, eyes still on him and he moved suddenly, his hands fastening around her wrists and she bit her lip, grinning and blushing all at the same time, but there was something in the eyes that finally focused completely on his were edged with something like dominance…

She twisted her wrists, grabbing a hold of his hands and gripping them with a shockingly strong force and he leaned forward, responding all too easily to her strength and grateful for it; after all, it wasn't like he was in any way able to take care of himself, keep himself going as anything more than a man who existed.

There were long moments of silence as they peered at each other and then she stood, supple perfect form unfolding and not releasing the hold she had on him with one hand, slipping charmingly around the desk and then she stood in front of him and he stared at the hand that gripped his, the strength that he needed for so long.

And then she was kissing him, and he slid arms around her waist, pulling her close to him and into his lap, gathering her against him and she didn't fight him, not at all. If anything she moved by herself, pressing and crushing herself against him, breathing rapidly against his mouth and fingers playing over his face and neck.

He pulled away, fighting to control himself and it wasn't made easy by the fingers that were laced through his hair and the shallow breathing and he tilted his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and he let his hands roam across her back and then glide lower, rubbing large circles and, god, she was so warm.

"Why are you fighting this so hard?" It was a ragged whisper, coming from low inside her and he simply shook his head softly, not answering and he cringed inwardly at her sad sigh, at the misery there that he could fix. But what if he couldn't, what if all he did was be that finale blow that broke her?

He smoothed his hand down her curls, swallowing and simply savoring her, savoring the feel of her warm weight in his hold, here, where she wouldn't break him like no one would be able to and he knew it, knew full well that she would never feel the same because he could never love her like Lavery had once loved her so why should she even try?

She simply sat in his lap, wrapped in his hold and she tilted her face, burrowing her face in the curve of his neck for a moment before going back to his mouth, kissing him and crushing herself as hard as she could against him, seeming to try to simply press herself completely into him—

And he stared down at the game of Solitaire that was laid out before him, the only thing he had been doing the last hours, playing with little pieces of paper and pretending like they held something he was looking for. And it wasn't true, it was just more of his own lies, the only thing he had learned to survive on, lies that he didn't need anybody else.

Zach looked up, studied the rest of his office, eyes open only because no one was there to see him and take him down with it, use it against him like his father had. He had cared for his mother; he had given her some piece of himself that he had worked so hard to keep hidden and look how it had ended.

Kendall would end the same way, looking at him like he was nothing and insisting that he could never do what was needed, ending up like that, some shattered shell of a woman with empty eyes and a too fragile voice and a quality of spun glass and something that had been broken one too many times to ever heal.

And he wouldn't let Kendall end up like that.

Amy's room was truly Amy's room and Micaela found herself smiling as she entered, feeling Amy slip in beside her, the much taller female making Micaela feel even more small and useless than before. The room, still feeling light and airy and feminine, must have belonged to a female at some time and, while the walls weren't an explosive pink, they were a soft shade that spoke of sweetness.

The pagan/Wiccan/something-or-other-that-Micaela-didn't-understand had already decorated it in a way that screamed light and airy, making the room feel even more open and gentle than before. The only overly loud decorations were the tie-dye pillowcases and the edge of a sheet that peeked out of the trunk at the foot of the bed.

Micaela looked at it, and then arched an eyebrow at Amy. "That the new altar clothe?"

"Yep." Passing Micaela and kneeling, she opened the trunk and pulled the clothe out, holding it up before her for her friend to inspect. Her last one had been a midnight blue number, and Amy had taken white thread to it, sprinkling stars across it lightly. She probably still had it at the bottom of her trunk, even with its burn marks and candle wax and incense stains.

This one, beneath Micaela's fingers, was softer, silkier, and she winced at what candle wax and heat might do to it, not to mention if Amy spilled any of her oils on it. It was more brilliant than the blue and, when it caught the light from the window just right, the summery green slipped into an almost white. "You're gonna have to be careful with that one."

"I already have it all planned out." Folding the sheet across her arm, she gestured absently to the table that someone had pushed before the window, its surface flat and shiny and, spotting the thin glass resting against its legs, Micaela grinned, seeing that Amy had taken her previous advice on how to make her altar clothe last longer than before. "And Maggie already promised that she would help me set it up in a day or two."

Maggie… the name connected itself to a few things and Micaela watched as the clothe was carefully set on the edge of the bed and she set herself down, folding one long denim-clad leg beneath her and observing Micaela with those wide blue eyes that revealed so much so often, had so much emotion that she wasn't afraid to give out willingly, even to people who didn't deserve it.

"Did you get that club of yours… and apologize to Mr. Chandler? And, um, do other things that young, attractive, overly perfect business-women do on a regular basis or when, you know, they go to Switzerland and come back with a dead woman and a dead little girl?"

Amy, Amy Cohen, who could gather up everything Micaela had done in one long run-on sentence and Micaela chuckled to herself, shaking her head and finally answering, "Yes, sort-of, and, yes, yes, yes and a big yes to that last one even though I didn't exactly understand it."

A million-watt smile and a flash of white teeth, watching as Micaela slipped off her heels and then dropped into the light beanbag, rubbing the arch of one foot as she did, feeling Amy's silent laughter and enjoying it. Micaela, loner that she was, had pathetically few friends and none of them meant as much to her as Amy did. Sure, they happened to disagree over how useful mothers really were in the long run but they both got having one thing and wanting another.

Micaela's eyes found the frame by the bed and she noted that Amy was still using her Christmas—er, Solstice present, a silver-plated frame that held a picture of her and her mother, just before the car crash and she smiled to herself, even if she went by the belief that mothers were vastly overrated.

"Really… are you dealing with everything okay?"

Micaela shrugged, looked away for a moment before casting Amy a grin and an arch of an eyebrow. "Don't worry about it, Amy…" she waved one hand absently, shrugged again and then ran fingers through her hair, smiling quietly to herself. "I think I've found something to keep my interest in this little town."

Palmer, upon spotting Kendall Hart-Slater, was at her side in just a few moments, wrapping his arms around her and chuckling, working hard not to notice the strained quality to her and her smile and her voice when she laughed with too much brightness and she beamed, shucking off her coat and letting him toss it to Joe, snapping for the doctor to hand it up somewhere.

JR had brought Kendall and for that he was grateful. Kendall was one hell of a woman and she would keep everybody in line while he checked on his niece and his little niece and he chuckled, leading her to the couch and settling her down, chuckling yet again as he patted her hand…

Damn it all to hell, Myrtle was right wasn't she?

So focused was he about focusing on his favorite Kane of all, he missed the opening of the door completely and was only aware of her entrance by the way Tad's head snapped up like a bulldog's when he spotted her, as always keenly aware of her presence no matter what was going on.

He turned, stared at her as entered, slinking in cautiously with that daughter straining at her hand, muttering about running off with some dog or something and all he could see was his niece and he stood, crossing the room in a handful of strong steps and locking his arms around her, almost lifting her in his joy.

"Welcome home, Dixie… we've all needed you so much."