The rest of the drive to Cousin's island passed uneventfully, the fresh snow that had fallen a day earlier having been ploughed and the driveway shoveled. Logan hadn't requested any shopping to be done for them so they had simply stopped by at a supermarket just outside of Portland to stock up for a few days, Rory having a rather particular pallet these days. For example the scent of fried eggs most milk products grossing her out, hence they considered it a safer choice for Rory to pick whatever she felt like at the time. It had been while since either of them had had the pleasure - surely it was pleasure if it felt almost like an odd nostalgic event - to do their own shopping that didn't just involve getting a pack of diapers or a carton of juice from the corner store if they ran out, which they rarely did.
Rory now rolled, or at least attempted to roll, their two small suitcases across the icy gravel towards the white trimmed grey shingle house as their Volvo XC90's headlights lit the way, Logan following her, with the bags of groceries, towards the front porch.
"It's less windy than I remembered," Rory noted, as Logan searched for the right key and opened the door.
It did feel different. She'd almost feared that it would bring back old, painful, memories - but to her surprise, it felt evocative but the memories that came flooding back were not so much the ones that hurt, but the ones that had given her hope.
It was clear that someone had just recently been at the house - the heating had been turned up high, making the place nice and toasty in comparison to the 20 degrees outside and welcomingly the place smelled of fresh firewood, the salty sea air mixing with the slight scent of lavender, which Catherine tended to hang in the closets.
"Frozen pizza with extra toppings?" Logan called from the kitchen a minute later, as Rory was just about to head upstairs with her suitcase, which really wasn't very heavy. Logan was too tired to cook anything from scratch that night and while he usually never ate stuff like that these days, it was Rory who had insisted on reliving some of her history with junk food. Rory was supposed to watch what she ate, but he knew better than to deny her everything unless it was explicitly verboten.
"Uh-uh," she called back in approval, the familiar, slightly damp, feel and the occasional squeak of the floorboards feeling ever so familiar, as she walked the stairs. The door to the study was wide open, reminding her of the days she'd spent at that desk writing or editing. It had in part been the work that had got her through her rough patch, the other part being no doubt the man currently preparing the frozen pizza downstairs.
It was as if the house had stayed still in time, everything still at the same place as she had left it, even the bedsheets were the same, though with a nice crispy smell. She unpacked her essentials, leaving most of the clothing in the opened suitcase on the bed bench. Her legs felt a little numb and back muscles tense from the long drive despite the numerous stops along the way, and she decided to take a quick shower before dinner, hoping it would relax her.
She slipped off her maternity-jeans, which still fitted her quite loosely, and the turtle neck sweater she'd been wearing, her underwear falling to the floor on top of them. She glanced over the tub, realizing she'd forgotten the bathtub in question wasn't really the best for showers - the showerhead was placed just a little too low and seemed to have a mind of its own as soon as the water was turned on. And after seeing the bath salts, she recalled having bought herself at the local supermarket, she suddenly realized a bath might actually not be such a bad idea. She let the bath fill with water, the sounds of the water almost muffling the squeaks of Logan walking up the stairs.
"Definitely not the sight I expected to see when I walked up here," he smirked, seeing Rory pulling her hair up in a messy bun in front of the bathroom mirror without an item of clothing on her. Her bump looked almost as big as it had been half way through the last time around, and without a doubt made him stare a little - she was beautiful like that - Rory sending a cheeky smile in his direction as a reply, before she stepped, as gracefully as she could, into the bathtub.
There wasn't an ounce of shyness left between them - not after everything - he'd seen her when she was still shy, when she'd been drunk, hungover, upsed, celebratory, angry, during her period, giving birth and during healing - he'd seen it all - and while she really didn't feel like jumping into bed with him right then and there, her body needing a calmer way to relax that particular evening, the way his gaze and words spoke of his appreciation always felt good.
"Oh, man, this is the good stuff," Rory sighed without embellishments, as she slid into the warm water, only leaving her face onto the surface.
"You're going to make me envious of that water, if you keep this up," Logan chuckled, joining her in the bathroom, and washed his face and neck with cool water in the sink, drying it into a hand towel. With her ears underwater, his voice sounded muffled to her, but she got the gist.
"Do you think it's strange that I kind of feel more at home here than in the Vineyard?" Rory asked as she emerged to the surface a moment later, her hair evenly wet now.
"Well I do think you've spent cumulatively more hours here," Logan noted.
"Yeah, but I almost expected a flash of bad memories, but I'm not getting that," she replied somewhat surprisedly.
"I guess that's a good thing," Logan commented.
"Yeah, it is," she exhaled, feeling relieved and submerged into the water once more.
Logan sat down on the bench by the bathtub to keep her company for a bit, his arm resting on the edge, a few of his fingers testing the water.
"Do you know how you want to get in touch with him? What are you going to say?" Rory asked, as she sat up again.
"You're going to the school tomorrow right?" he asked.
"Yeah, in the afternoon, I should be a couple of hours tops," she replied.
"So maybe I'll catch him when he gets off? That website you were looking at before, did it have his timetable?" Logan suggested.
"I didn't check. But maybe you should start with Catherine?" Rory advised.
"You think she might have a problem with this?" he asked.
"I don't know, but I think it's fair to tell her what you are about to do. It's her life too, her relationship with her son, even if Mitchum plans to stay out of the picture," she explained.
"You're probably right," Logan said, adding, "I might go call her now," he replied, knowing it wasn't too late yet. He just felt like he needed to get the ball rolling so he wouldn't chicken out.
He kissed Rory on the lips for courage, and headed out back downstairs, adding, "I'll call when the pizza is done!"
"Or just bring it up here?" Rory called after him, half-seriously. The bath was really growing on her.
Downstairs Logan glanced into the oven briefly, noting that the pizza still needed 10 minutes or so, and taking a deep breath, he now pulled out his phone from his coat pocket, and typed in the number from the card that was left onto the kitchen counter like Catherine usually did - Honor having not really specified with her in advance who'd exactly be staying there. The preparations for them coming usually went through Honor, who usually just e-mailed her telling her the dates and requests, which in this case had been minimal.
The phone rang several times, Logan almost beginning to doubt whether he had typed the number correctly.
"This is Catherine," a slightly out of breath voice answered.
"Hi!" he greeted hesitantly. "It's Logan Huntzberger," he began, unsure what her reaction would be exactly.
"Hi," she replied with some reservations.
"I just wanted to say thank you for getting the place ready for us. Rory sends her greetings," he added.
"Oh, thank you. But there's no need," Catherine replied, clearly the thought of both Rory and Logan staying at the house this time, leaving her a little shocked.
"Actually, I was wondering if I could maybe meet up with you tomorrow sometime, if it isn't too much trouble. I can come to Portland, Rory has plans there anyways," Logan said, walking around the room slightly nervously.
"I guess. I have some appointments in the afternoon, but you could drop by my house if you want," Catherine replied.
"Good, how does 11 sound?" he suggested.
"Sure, I'll see you then. I suppose Rory still has the address," Catherine added.
"Yeah. Well alright, I'll see you then," Logan finished the call.
Logan sank onto the living room couch, taking a deep breath - for once it was a situation he'd never been in, and with no other incentive for him than the emotional kind - this was about reaching out and correcting his family's past mistakes more than anything. He would be no worse off if they wanted no contact, but perhaps there was something to gain if they did?
It was in the middle of the night, Evie having woken with a weak cry and Celeste had gone to sooth her. It wasn't terribly unusual that she didn't sleep through the night, sometimes just needing to be picked up and cradled for a few minutes, sometimes settling for a simple holding of one's hand on her stomach. Celeste had gotten so used to these wakings, she was really not bothered much about them. As she sat with her in the nursery armchair like this - glancing out of the rustling branches outside, the wind having picked up since yesterday, shadows cast by the street light, moving across Evie's room, that faced the street - she often felt the most alone, pondering about herself, her relationship and what she wanted to become. She'd gotten as far as looking up a private tutor that she wanted to take drawing classes from, hoping to get some direction, and with the first class next week she wasn't really sure whether to be excited or apprehensive.
That night it had already taken her nearly thirty minutes of hushing to get Evie to fall back asleep, getting her to almost doze off but not enough to put her down, having already attempted several times. As she'd managed to put her down, and held her hand on her for a minute longer, she heard Jess' quiet footsteps across the hallway, heading to the bathroom.
As she snuck out of Evies room, closing her door half-way, she noted Jess drinking a glass of water, having just lit the single mirror light.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Hey," Jess exhaled, after swallowing the water, and placing the glass down on the vanity. He didn't look particularly drowsy for the time of night.
"Did she kept you up long?" he asked, having woken with the realization that she wasn't in bed. He turned the light off, leaving just the sensing of their presence based on their breathing.
"A little," Celeste replied quietly, as she headed back towards the bedroom and slid under the blanket.
"Are you sleepy?" Jess asked, as he joined her, his side of the bed still warm unlike hers.
"I could sleep, but I probably won't fall asleep straight away," she replied, the lengthy soothing session having woken her more than ideal.
He turned to face her, despite seeing very little of her features in the darkness, placing his arm around her waist. Somehow in that darkness it felt safe, almost like they had once felt, the darkness hiding the strain from their faces - any evidence that time had passed.
"Is there something more I can do for you?" Jess asked.
"You sound like a customer service agent," Celeste replied, with an audible smirk, realizing that what he was asking was in fact more serious than that.
He brushed her nose with his, pressing his forehead against hers, wanting her to sense the love he felt.
"I don't know," she replied, more seriously.
He was trying, and while she appreciated it, there were days when she kept thinking it was too much, almost unnatural - it was like he was sucking up a lot of stuff that he would've fought her on otherwise. She couldn't agree that things had improved, but she just kept feeling like all of that couldn't possibly last. He'd relaxed a bit, but there were still times, like now, where his fears shone through. She didn't want him to be out of character like that, almost needy - she just wanted things to work naturally. But she didn't have the heart to tell him - it was sweet that he tried after all.
"You really don't need to try so hard," she added, laying a soft wet kiss on his lips. It spoke of gratitude, respect and her will to try as much as he seemed to. Maybe it was her fault, that she didn't feel as connected, maybe she was the one not trying enough?
She was glad he couldn't see her, surely then he could've seen how she was attempting to distract herself from tearing up. Her hand, that had moved to her chest along with her kiss, now trailed down his bare chest. She couldn't deny that she loved how he felt and smelled, even if he was a little musky, like now - her hormones doing their trick - distracting her. As her fingers reached the bulge in his boxers, he kissed her in return - slowly and deeply. There was still that drive, that intensity that left little time to think - it was just what she needed, what they needed.
His arm pulled her closer, flush up against him, grabbing her ass and upper thigh. Her kisses trailed down his neck, laying a few on his chest as well, breathing him in. He felt so safe.
Jess' fingers intertwined in her hair from the nape of her neck, their sweet intoxicating scent filling his nostrils. He could feel her nipples harden through her nightgown, brushing against him, his hand returning to her thigh. He took control by positioning her underneath him, his assertiveness making it easy for her to forget her dark thoughts. It was however, when she felt his lips on her stomach, leaving adoring kisses on her scarred abdomen, when she almost felt like she didn't deserve this - for not being perfect, for not being as content as she should be. She pulled him up for another kiss, wanting to forget herself again, and it certainly helped, her own hands trailing down his back pushing down his boxers as she went.
He nuzzled into her neck, as his other hand pushed his boxers completely off, returning to the inside of her thigh between them, slowly feeling her folds, making her gasp in anticipation. She was wet, her warmth being almost tantalizing around his fingers, his arousal soon replacing them, sliding up and down - even if not entering, that was one of the very best sensations she'd ever experienced. As a que, she flexed her pelvis towards him, wanting to feel more - wanting all of him.
Jess kissed her once more, his tongue teasing her a bit, as if trying to surprise her, as he entered, a satisfying groan leaving both of their lips almost in unison, almost making them laugh momentarily at the low withheld chorus they'd created. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him tightly. He moved without rushing at first, the bucking of her hips setting the pace, her squeezes milking him firmly. There was so little needed really - knowing each other through and through when it came to this.
He steadied himself, holding off for a moment, until her hips begged for more - this time slamming into her much harder, continuing to thrust a few times like that, very soon leaving her moaning quietly into his mouth mid-kiss. That tone of her moan was really all the signal he needed to come, somehow the very idea that he'd made her feel that way, driving him over the edge, feeling his member flexing inside of her, throbbing and releasing its tension.
His cool lips kissed her clavicle once more, the panting of the bodies filling the dark room wordlessly, as she turned and positioned her back into his chest, his arm wrapping itself around her waist, her arm holding onto it, not wanting him to let go.
At least they had this - something that had never really failed them - Celeste thought, as she closed her eyes. Yet inside she still felt incomplete.
