The Lady, or the Tiger?
Chapter 7: Becoming Lionhearted
"Whoa," Charlie Masters brought his horse to a halt near the fence line of the Murdoch's Body Farm. Grateful for the steed, his voice held a calm and reassuring tone despite his intense adrenalin rush. Charlie Masters didn't become the best reporter in Toronto by avoiding risks, he had reasoned with himself back when he dreamed up this plan. He secured his horse to a sturdy tree, in the blackness, part of the plan being to do this on a new moon, when the night would be darkest. Mr. Masters secured the feed bag over the horse's nose, to keep him quiet, unstrapped his scarecrow-like "body" from the back of the saddle, and heaved the lightweight "corpse" up over his shoulder. Last but not least, the shovel.
Stealthy, sneaky, Charlie Masters slinked closer to his planned point of access. He almost giggled, his plan was so brilliant… prove Murdoch's Body Farm is dangerous by dumping another body there, secretly, himself. This "victim" had a rather insulting note pinned on his chest, letting Murdoch know his goose was cooked. Charlie would get the scoop, because he would be the one who knew that there had been another body dump. He would insist on a public inspection, claiming he had been watching over the body farm at night trying to catch the "Body-Dumper" murderer for his story, and he believed he had spied someone moving about on the Murdoch's property – even heard digging.
"Fortunately, this fake body isn't heavy," he thought to himself arriving at the Murdoch's fence. He tossed the shovel over to the other side, then flung the fake body over too. The moment he placed a hand on the top rail, though, that's when…
ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE! The high-pitched buzzing sound actually made him dizzy with the agony of it, and "Something wet! "Oh my God, I'm bleeding… Is this blood?!" he panicked. And those lights, all over, bright, so bright.
Masters jumped back, rushing to check himself for injuries, it just starting to register that the liquid felt cold, couldn't be his blood… had to be something else. And then it hit him hard – Murdoch had set-up a trap, and he and fallen right into it!
First, just "SNAP!" Then an odd "zipping" sound, from all around. Such terror! The ground was moving! Master's screamed, like a little girl, he screamed, as gravity shifted under him, the ground reaching up, engulfing him completely, flinging him up in the air. He scrambled wildly at the edges… A NET! He'd been caught in a net… He was hanging, trapped, captured, CAUGHT, in a net dangling from a tree, like a sitting duck! This was a disaster, a complete disaster!
) (
It was first thing in the morning, on SATURDAY – truly the best day of the week for them… not a work day, no outside obligations, house to themselves because Eloise and Claire-Marie had the day off. On this particular Saturday morning, William was sleepy, Julia, she was feeling quite… lusty.
"Nooo," his scratchy voice cracked and rumbled, eyes remaining closed, "Saturday. Sleep more."
Julia giggled, thinking William had finally made the transition to Caveman. Deciding to respond in kind, she grunted, "Baby not know Saturday…" then slid her warm, sultry body up along his to dangle her lips close to his ear and seduce, "Its sleep, or me, detective."
He opened one eye. She giggled. "Sleep, and then you," he bargained.
Accepting the challenge, Julia made her first move. She rose up onto her knees and lifted her nightgown over her head, making sure to shift the mattress about somewhat wildly as she did so, and then she intentionally draped the fabric enticingly over his chest and the more vulnerable aspect of his neck before she tossed it to the floor.
He resisted, "I can't see you since I'm sleeping."
"Oh, but husband, eyes are not the only means to arouse a man," she said, unbuttoning his pajama top, then admiring the scrumptious ups and downs of him, first with her fingers, then with her mouth, gently sucking and kissing, as her fingers moved down over his firm stomach, and she moaned with the delight of the feel of him. Then coming closer, moving over him from her side and rubbing her warm, curvy, plush body on his solid, well-contoured one, the supple inside of her thigh encountered the eager bulge of him. His face said he was ignoring her, but oh, his body, his body had tightened and hardened, and lower down, it reached fervently for her…
Julia's velvety hand snuck into his pajama bottoms.
He fought his instinct to moan.
Masterfully, she squeezed, and stroked and tortured him, her reward was beyond palpable, William's body reacting strongly, his moan totally erupting her own insides with want for him.
"So… me then," she taunted.
He reached for her body, where she was lying on her side next to him, toured his hand down the deep dip of her at her waist, so huge the slope up her hips, outright groping as he found her backside, and he reveled in the feel of her moldable buttocks, surrendering to him, squishing and filling between his rigid fingers, soft and lush.
Wanting more of her, much more, all of her, he scooched and wriggled to tuck underneath her while his hands decisively took hold of her by the hips and he guided her, bringing her up over him to straddle him. Julia was in charge, and she set the tempo, controlled the force of their union, rocking them both closer and closer to complete abandon…
)
A few hours later, William sleeping in, Julia stood at the stove, intermittently humming and talking to their now nearly two-year old son. The little one sat in his highchair at the table, mushing and chewing, somewhat, on his banana slices. Catching herself, Julia warned herself to pay attention, as she placed the bread in the toaster and then laid it over the flames. She had already gotten a reputation for burning the toast, and she had every intention of breaking the pattern from now on. Particularly since she had heard William's footsteps upstairs and she knew he would be down soon. She swore, the man deliberately flirted with her so she would burn the toast…
Although she knew he was up and about, Julia was still surprised when William appeared in the kitchen. She heard him behind her. Cheery, his voice, she so loved it when this man was happy, as he greeted their son. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of him leaning over to kiss his "Little Man's" curly head, and then play, his voice lively and enthusiastic, with the baby for a moment. Oh my, she noticed in her glances, so instantly her womb zapping tight with the charge of seeing it, he wore only his pajama bottoms. "Remember the toast, Julia. Remember the toast," she coached herself with the guiding mantra.
Mmm, the gravitational force of his approach, coming up from behind her, pulling and spinning at her to an astounding torque before he had even arrived, before he had even made contact. And when he did, his body feeling so strong, and so big compared to hers, his breath on her neck, and then, tender, his fingers shifting her hair out of his way. "Good morning," his only warning before his hands moved in around her sides and he hungrily explored her belly and her hip bones, and he pressed in behind her, so solid, and his lips and breath teased her ear and nuzzled her neck.
She pretended to ignore him – glanced at the toast.
William's inhale first, before he spoke again, "I woke up and you weren't there. I was disappointed." Mmm, more succulent kisses to her neck.
Zing, the memory hit, and it hit hard – of their first kiss, William being "disappointed" about there not being any green fairies, of all things. And Julia just couldn't withstand it back then, unbearable – waiting anymore, and so she had touched him, in such an undeniably romantic way, sliding her fingers into his hair. And she had seen it then, in those gorgeous eyes of his, she knew it down in her bones that she had him, that she had always had him, and she just knew it, beyond a doubt, William Murdoch loved her. And her heart had jumped for joy, making her breathless, making her boldly crazy enough to move closer, drown in his scent, tilt… She had told him, then, exactly what she would tell him now, knowing the words would resound vibrantly in his heart as much, as they would in hers, striking just the right chord…
"Disappointed, William? We can't have that," she whispered, magnifying the impact of it, and Julia reached back to find his head as he stood and breathed behind her, to scratch, so lusciously, her fingers into his hair. His hands explored the curves of her, and his sharp exhale signaled his own euphoric spin, and she felt the pull of lust surge strong – strong enough that her knees threatened to give way as her womb, her core, wrenched with wanting him, stealing away blood from her extremities and her brain. "William… she wriggled in a weak attempt to stop him. The baby's right there."
"He's too young to know any more than that his Mommy and hid Daddy love each other…" his kisses teased with a sharp nibble, "a lot," William reasoned. His seductions grew, tugging and twisting her womb with their tempting rugged desire, and she felt it, distinctly with a captivating poke, he had become robustly aroused, and it practically floored her, and she felt the drop, the delightful dizziness stealing her. Then, from somewhere inside her head the warning came – the toast! She had to save the toast!
It was at that very moment that the doorbell rang, stopping their escalating passion. William raised an eyebrow at her. She reached for the toast.
"George?" he suggested. "He and Higgins have been in charge of chasing down all the zany ideas from the public about what made our victim's bruise," he hesitated there, his brain taking the extra step of quelling his optimism, despite the Saturday morning oddity of being interrupted at home. "I think I should get it. You're um…" his eyes traveled down her curvy body, only minimally masked by her thin, plain white nightgown, William keenly aware the fabric of which was so fine that, when the light was placed just right behind her, her secretly revealed silhouette had, on more than one occasion, nearly brought him to his knees. Adding to that there was her creamy cleavage, heaving so invitingly up and down with her rushed breaths – for it appeared he had undone quite a few of her buttons, and it seemed William was quite pleased with the results of his ravaging.
"You may need to cover up," he advised, clearing his throat.
Her voice sounded far off, requiring his focus to decipher it, "George has seen me in a lot less, you know."
Her tone was so very cocky, it sent a thunder bolt down a direct path to his groin, even tighter now, his pajamas. He remembered the instances to which she referred, as if being hit by a memory wave, Julia wearing not much more than a Christmas bow, and George right there next to him… And then, at the nudist colony, when she had saved George's life, this remarkable woman, so bold, in so many ways, naked, and gorgeous, and she had whacked the killer on the head with a shovel after sneaking up behind the culprit. And she was so, so, magnificent. And George had seen her, and the Inspector had seen her, and he had… Oh my God, he had definitely seen HER. And she was even more beautiful than he had ever dreamed of. Instantly, William felt the surge of the rampage of emotions all over again, conflicting, and tickling, and twitching his insides.
Their eyes met and Julia giggled with the look of him. So indescribable, his expression. "Fear? Anger? Definitely not shame," she decided… "Perhaps a manly sense of pride – and lust?" she wondered.
Attempting to explain, he stumbled, "Any human male… would have a… a very strong urge to… to touch, Julia. The feeling swoops over you, down to… well, through your whole body…"
Julia stepped in closer to him again, pressed closer to him.
"It's not always something a man feels he can control," William disclosed, wrinkling a corner of his mouth at her, his face full of charm.
The doorbell rang a second time, interrupting.
"No?" she asked, eyebrow up. Then her delightful giggle.
William swallowed with the pressure of it. "No," he answered simply.
She stepped back, and said, staring down at him, "Perhaps William, it is you who needs to cover up."
William cleared his throat and turned away. Disappointing really, that she didn't get to see his blush.
It was William who went to the front door, after the third ring. It turned out that it was not George, after all.
)
Believing his… alertness had lessened sufficiently to go unnoticed, William swung the front door opened with the usual, "What have you Geor..."
Louise Cherry, eyes widened, and dropping, downward... down further, (ahem), all the way down, soaking in the look of his bare and impressive chest, and those well-muscled arms, and that exquisitely rippled stomach… stood on their welcome mat, a gaggle of other reporters gawking at her success thus far, from the sidewalk, quite a way back on the other side of the Murdoch's front gate, the Constabulary-established boundary they could not cross.
Both surprised, a pause ensued, one that was undeniably uncomfortable, before Miss Cherry spoke up abruptly, her own jolt shoving her forward with impetus. "I'm afraid George is not accompanying me today, um…" unable to wholly stop herself, she dropped her eyes down to savor the sight of the man once more, "Um…" her eyes back to his, "unlike at our lovely dinner, detective..." Her smile, thin and tight, trying to act as if everything were normal. She considered adding a part about their having discussed batteries that evening, but could remember no more than that it was terribly boring, so decided against it.
Finding words, desperately working to find words, so terribly bothered by his state of undress, William stammered, "Err… Miss, uh, Miss Cherry, whatever are y..."
The pushy woman reached up and started to undo her hat pins, preparing for when she would be invited in, "I'm here to speak with your wife, actually, um, privately." Despite herself, despite having had practiced, numerous times, encountering this exact initial hurdle at their front door, Miss Cherry faltered, stuttering out her explanation for being so brash as to march up and ring the Murdoch's front doorbell… on a Saturday morning. "Well, you see… I, well, err, it's that I… Well, to be honest, detective…"
And every bone in William's body was screaming at him that she was likely being far from honest…
"You see, I, um, I figured that, because we are friends, um, from George…" that tight smile again, the strange urge to curtsey, "and my having been a guest in your home previously, so, err, the unannounced visit, especially considering the situation... um with my upcoming story..." she pressed.
Seeing no way out of this, and not knowing whether or not Miss Cherry had already discussed this "upcoming story" with Julia, William decided to err on the side of being polite, which was pretty much a default mode with William Murdoch anyway, especially when push came to shove, which it certainly was doing here, Miss Cherry stepping too close and removing her hat. He stepped back from the doorway and welcomed her in, taking the lady-reporter into the living room. "Have a seat, please Miss Cherry. I'll… I will go get my wife."
William attempted to exit the living room nonchalantly, once out of her sight, barreling up the stairs. Clearly, he needed to put on a robe, and to bring Julia hers.
)
Dr. Julia Ogden had most certainly not previously discussed Miss Cherry's horrid upcoming story with the ambitious and intrusive reporter. Further, she would surely NOT be inviting the woman into their home again anytime soon.
William cringed as his wife marched back into the kitchen after practically bodily throwing Louise Cherry out on her posterior end, Julia's arms pumping wildly at her sides as they did when she was furious…
William hoped upon hope that she wasn't this mad AT HIM…
Her eyes fiery, and with an air of steam wafting up from under her flowy curls, she huffed as she plopped herself down into her seat at the kitchen table. "Great," she complained, "Now my eggs are cold, too."
Immediately he regretted it, saying it, as if to lighten her mood, "At least the toast's not burnt," her glare stabbing him into a wide-eyed state of immobilized panic.
Unable to fully control herself, Julia placed her fork down and turned directly to him. Probably his deer-in-the-headlights look, but, after an attempt, her mouth opening, taking a big breath to begin her tirade, she closed it again and looked back down at her plate. "Take a deep breath, Julia," her inner-voice coached.
Her eyes met his again, her voice's squeak triggering his usual response, dread and astounding love, oddly somehow, the love always winning out. "That woman has some nerve, William! How dare she? Really!" Julia shook her head vigorously with the disbelief of it. She stopped herself again, swallowed, took another breath. She would try again, but already she knew that telling him what the woman had accused her of, what the woman planned to write – in the most well-read newspaper in Toronto…
There was a burning at the back of her eyes. Whoa, might she cry?
Julia's jaw clenched tight. It took everything she had not to slam the table, her eyes instinctively drifting over to her other side, to remind herself about William Jr. sitting right there, innocent, sweet, in his high chair.
Sounding much calmer, she inhaled deeply once more and said, "Miss Cherry stopped by to give me a chance to officially comment on her upcoming story in which she…" This halt required that she blow out some of the pressure built up inside of her, exhaling a stream of hot air through pursed lips before she continued, "In which she will suggest some truly horrendous things about me." Julia found she needed to look away from him, the compassion in his big, brown eyes rendering her weaker, although she was grateful for it. She re-lifted her fork, poked at her food. "Miss Cherry believes that I have been using contraceptives, specifically a diaphragm, without you knowing," she swallowed again, "with the intent to deceive you about my lying about being sterile… so I could keep working." Fork down again, she stared down at the plate and added, "She had every intention of 'telling' on me," the squeak was back, "demanding to talk to you before she would leave."
My God, her eyes are beautiful, the thought dashed away in his head, as she returned to look at him once more. "I think I made it worse," she confided, a subtle sadness in her expression, accepting the mistake, "My refusal to let her talk to you…"
He nodded, "Gave her more suspicion that she was right."
Phew, she blew out more pressure, "Yes, yes, I believe so," she wrinkled a corner of her mouth at him, admitting it.
William reached up and rubbed his brow. "Those really are dastardly accusations," he agreed. He reached over and cupped her face.
Amazing, a part of her marveled, she felt better. He loved her. It didn't matter what this dreadful reporter-woman said, or thought, or wrote… He definitely loved her.
She nodded, changed the subject, "You were thinking we'd ride our bikes to the park?" she asked him, finally taking a forkful of her breakfast.
) (
Louise Cherry left the Murdoch's reeling in her head about Julia Ogden's outburst. "Me thinks she doth protest too much," her brain offered up, fueling her fire, her own observation serving as even further proof that her insinuations were correct. Now she was definitely going to run the story, and she planned to use the Shakespeare quote as her hook in the title, too.
) (
After William and Julia discussed William's intentions of using their hidden passageways and the secret tunnel to covertly get themselves and their picnic gear out of their house, without being spotted by the reporters at their front gate, they decided against the plan. They would likely still be able to get out to their bicycles through the backyard being unseen – for William already had them waiting out at the camouflaged water-well. This water-well was, in actuality, the endpoint of the secret tunnel, and it was located just within the edge of the woods bordering their backyard. He had snuck the bikes out there last night, right before he went to bed, benefitting from the darkness provided by last night's new moon, despite it being such a crystal-clear night.
The parents had agreed that William Jr. was too young to keep such a big, juicy secret as that their house had, within its walls, secret passages, particularly in light of how very hard William had worked to keep them exactly that – secret. Julia reminded him about all the planning and conniving and work he had put into this special, almost magical, detail about their magnificent house… He had managed to keep the passageways' and tunnel's very existence OFF of the architectural plans that the contractor used and filed with the city of Toronto, and he had made sure the workers were interspersed throughout the project, so as not to be able to grasp the full meaning of, what was to some an abnormal number of oddly shaped and located closets, and what were to others mere walls – walls that William had had to build himself, at odd hours, when no one else around. Yes, yes, it was best to wait until later to divulge their existence, later when their little boy would be able to understand how important it was not to tell, and he would be better able to hide such an intriguing thing from others, be they nannies or housekeepers or Uncle George or his little friends.
Julia held William Jr. in her arms. Up ahead, William carried the picnic basket and other bags, stuffed the gills full of diapers and other necessities. She held back a little giggle at the sight of him packed down as he was. "Your Daddy is so smart," she whispered to the little one in her arms as they tiptoed, sure that William could overhear her. "You see, it was your Daddy's idea to hide our bicycles in the woods. And thanks to that brilliant idea, we can get out to go on our family picnic in the park without all those pesky reporters knowing," she explained.
Just a short time later, Julia whispered loudly from behind him on her bike, her little son in front of his chest, safe in William's baby-carrier converted backsack, "Brilliant, William," congratulating him as they pedaled out – safe, a successful escape, completely unnoticed, across a neighbor's backyard.
William wondered, peaking at the neighbor's house windows through his peripheral vision, if Julia, too, felt precariously nervous about using the backyard of the very same judge who had presided over her murder trial to sneak out in such a stealthy manner…
"I don't think he saw us," she answered his question about the Honorable Judge Matthews, "Nor his wife."
"Agreed," he confided. However, they would still need to get back in later, and it would be late afternoon then, "much more likely for the older couple to be outside then," William worried.
On their way to the park, William suggested that they stop and buy a newspaper. Happily, with a brief perusal of the pages, there appeared to be no terrible headlines about them today. Julia spotted it first, just as he was about to close the paper up, reading the headline aloud, "Why Detective Murdoch Should be Appreciated… It's by Ruby Rosevear," she exclaimed, "Remember, William, that lovely young woman from the Murdoch Appreciation Society?"
"Mm," he answered her.
"It sounds quite supportive," she encouraged, feeling glad she had helped the young woman with the story when she had called her up unexpectedly at the morgue, had even let the young woman come by the morgue to see the body of the victim who was dumped on their property… the body dump that had started this whole mess.
"Agreed," he replied, folding the paper up and tucking it away in one of their bags for later.
) (
Bicycles secured with a lock and chain to a nearby tree, William having learned from the time the young urchins had stolen his bicycle so long ago, and their picnic blanket spread out in their spot – that one prefect spot of their first kiss, and where he had watched from atop a special tree years after that, and he had seen Julia's longing for him, and grieving of being with him, her visiting the spot, their spot, this one spot, too, on a Christmas day, with Darcy at her side – and now, story-tale-like happiness,the small Murdoch family played in the bright autumn leaves, just below the same tree where he had carved their initials into the bark, telling the Universe what no one else would ever know, that he loved her, undeniably, only her, she was the one, always, the only one for him.
William had cleared out a series of small trails in the fallen leaves using some sticks he had ingeniously tied together with his handkerchief to serve as a makeshift rake. After that, until they were exhausted from the exercise of the fun, they had played tag on the trails. Now, still out of breath, they turned to collecting the beautifully-colored and intriguingly-shaped leaves. The experience of the day was picturesque, wonderful, stimulating the senses, rich with the rustling sounds of the leaves crunching underfoot, or swooshing in waves, blown about in the wind up above them in the trees, the smells, so keenly stirred by being surrounded by Nature, grass, and leaves, and dark, fertile earth tingling in the nostrils, and such vivid colors dancing for the eyes within the nip of the cooler air and sunshine on their cheeks.
Julia picked up a yellow leaf with 5 points. "Look William Jr.," her voice drew them, "A star!"
The little boy gazed up at the sky, puzzled.
"No. No, sweetie. I mean this leaf…" she tried to explain.
"Not shining?" he wondered.
"No," William interjected, "It has the shape of a star."
The child seemed unconvinced.
Julia took a seat in the pile of leaves, then scooped the toddler up into her lap and tried to put it in simpler words, "When you see a star in the sky at night, it twinkles, and sparkles, and blinks. And so, when people draw stars, like with a pencil or a crayon, they draw little points coming out of the center of the star, to make it look like the little shiny pieces of light shooting out of it."
"Oh," he answered her. Now, better understanding the game, the boy hopped up and searched the ground looking for another. Finding one, he lifted it proudly in the air. "A big star!" he declared to the cheers and smiles of his parents.
"Come, let me show you," William said, sitting down on the ground next to Julia, and pulling his young son into his lap now. "That's called a shade leaf," he said…
His tone professorial, Julia thought.
William took the smaller leaf and the larger leaf and held them up next to each other for the little boy to better make a direct comparison. "See, they're the same type of leaf, probably even from the same tree," he explained, looking up to the braches crisscrossing the sky. "Oh, yes. I see," he encouraged. They followed his eyes, "This tree right here, with the spiky brown balls hanging down from the branches there… See them…"
Both Julia and William Jr. did, William catching their nods out of the corner of his eye.
"You see, the leaves up at the top of the tree can get lots of sunlight, so they can be smaller, but the ones near the bottom…" William waited for their eyes to shift lower in the tree, "those leaves have to stretch out and cover more area. They have to grow big, so that they can catch as much of the sunlight as possible down there so low, in the shade… You see, that's why it's called a "shade" leaf," he taught, "because it's in the shade. All shade leaves are much bigger than regular leaves from the same tree."
Julia was impressed, gushing, "Oh I see! Let's find more like that," jumping up and leading the charge. Soon there was an abundance of myriads of colors and shapes and sizes to be admired.
"That one looks like a giant teardrop," William said of a leaf his son had found.
"Like an elephant's teardrop," Julia added, to emphasize its bigness.
"A hipamus," William Jr. tried to suggest.
Julia glanced proudly at William, wondering if he, too, saw this latest piece of evidence that their child was quite intelligent. Thinking so, she gushed, "Our acorn, detective… not far from the tree, hmm?"
William pinched his lips together. He agreed, but he had to admit, he was inclined towards being more humble about it.
Julia squatted down in front of the boy. "You mean a 'hip-o-pot-o-mus, Little One," his mother clarified. "Did you see one of those, a hippopotamus, at the zoo with little Alice and her mommy, Mrs. Hughes, and Claire-Marie?" she asked him.
"Yes Mommy," came his answer, his excitement jazzing his volume. Their little one's mind moved quickly though. "Still green," he said of a maple leaf at her feet.
It was true, most of the distinctly Canadian leaves – the maple leaves – down on the ground were bright yellow, with an occasional one being orange or even red. Whatever green ones there were, dangled, still up in the trees.
"I guess it got windy enough for that one to fall off anyway, before it was ready," Julia proposed.
It was then that William had a splendid idea – for a romantic gift for Julia. His mind dashed away with the enchantment of it, the planning. He knew exactly where to get the leaves he needed. He would need an excuse to get away…
"A mitten!" Julia declared of another yellow one William Jr. had found.
It did look like a mitten. "Let's find others like that!" she urged, dropping her eyes down to the ground for the hunt. Soon they had many. She took two of the littlest ones they'd found and sandwiched William Jr.'s tiny hand between them. "This one is for the Baby Bear…" she began.
Grasping her game, William used two of the largest mitten-shaped leaves and pinched his own hand between them and he added, "And this is for the Papa Bear…"
"Which one are we missing?" Julia asked her son.
"Momma Bear!" William Jr. yelled it out with fervor, remembering the bedtime story, having heard it countless times, when they read it to him from the book with the pictures, or when he listened to the spinning 'phon-gaff' Daddy had put in his bedroom. The whole family searched for two medium-sized leaves for Julia to use for her 'mitten,' not satisfied until every member of the Murdoch family had been able to have a leaf-mitten that was "just right."
Next, Julia suggested that they scoop a bunch of leaves into a big pile and then throw William Jr. into it! It was great fun. Of course, the toddler loved it, filling the air with his gleeful screeches and bubbly child laughter. "Again!" he'd call out, already in a full-out run towards either his Daddy or his Mommy, to be caught mid-leap into their arms and then sailed into the pile, over and over again. Soon tired out, they all lay down in the dilapidated pile.
"Would you like some of those bags of caramel popcorn? I know where the vendor usually is," William offered, thinking it might be a good chance to get away and collect his leaves for his romantic surprise.
"That sounds delightful, William," Julia replied.
"I'll be right back," he said, hopping up.
)
William headed for the location he remembered seeing the redbud trees. "Perfect," he thought, finding a place where the neighboring trees of this one particular species had exactly what he wanted – heart-shaped leaves. This spot offered a full range of colors. William checked the ground and up in the branches to find precisely the ones he wanted to collect for his love trifle to Julia, preferring those that were multicolored, changing, green turning yellow, yellow turning orange, orange turning red… the hardest one of all to get being the most important – a maraschino-cherry-red heart found only at the very top of the trees, out on the furthest edges of the thin braches. Needless to say, William's lumberjacking skills were about to come in handy. He was glad he was wearing his more outdoorsy attire today.
)
Unaware of his 'tell,' though thanks to their successful clandestine escape from the house, there was no one else watching him anyway, William touched his fingers to his jacket pocket, checking to make sure that they were still there. Confident his leaf treasures were safe, tucked into his detective's notebook, preserved, flat, secure until later, the four perfect leaves waited, he re-juggled the bags of caramel popcorn, and picked up the pace towards his beautiful wife and his beautiful son. On approaching them from off to Julia's side, he observed that Julia had setup the picnic blanket for their lunch.
Within earshot, William announced his return, "I guess these will be part of desert, then," he said, lifting the three bags of treats up for them to see. He hoped Julia wouldn't question him about what took him so long.
"That will be lovely," Julia smiled at him.
He knew it, his face returning her smile without his even thinking about it, he sensed it in every cell, she was admiring him. My God, he loved that look from her, reveled in catching her in it.
Abruptly, William's eyes dropped away, something urgent calling his attention… William Jr., in a mad dash, was headed his way. "Secure the popcorn – incoming," his inner voice played, childlike, with himself. Bracing for impact, he remained standing rather than crouching down to catch the inbound little boy, and William Jr. plowed into his Daddy's legs and wrapped his arms around tight for a big hug.
"Hey there, Little Man," he greeted, caramel popcorn bags safely pressed against his chest, reaching down to take that sweet, tiny little hand in his. "I'll wager you're pretty hungry, hmm?" he asked.
"Yes Daddy," the boy's reply, adorable, only served to further intensify his Daddy's love.
The two Murdoch men joined Julia on the picnic blanket and she started passing out their lunch – peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the toddler's juice in a baby bottle…
"Nooo," his complaint registered in typical two-year old fashion… loudly, "Big boy cup!" the little one insisted with a pout.
Julia started explaining why it was necessary, that he couldn't picnic with a 'regular' cup until he was no longer eating in his highchair at home… But, tangentially in her mind, she was noticing, with a thrill, how their son's complaint had reminded her so very much of William – particularly triggering her memories, delightful ones, from this morning when William complained about being bothered when he wanted to sleep longer. In that moment of toddler opposition, she could not have been more grateful to the Universe. Perhaps it was that sensation of warmth in her soul that led her to shower the boy with compassion, telling him she understood it must feel bad not being allowed to do the things that bigger boys do all the time, but to remember that he was doing more and more grownup things every day – that he drinks out of a cup at home, where there is a table, or a highchair tray. He just needed to be patient, she promised he'd be picnicking just like the big people soon enough.
Still, the child's persistence railed, finally paying off, William suggesting he could ask one of them to take the lid, with its offending 'baby' nipple, off each time he was going to take a drink of juice, and then they would put the lid back on for him when he was done, so it wouldn't spill. It was a good compromise.
The bunch of them were hungry – and conversation lulled. Julia pulled out a wine bottle and corkscrew, opened it and then passed her husband a glass, planning on not taking 'no' for an answer. The look they shared staggered each of them momentarily. William Murdoch was clearly not planning on saying 'no' to the alcohol, and he was definitely being flooded by the same memory she was.
Breathless, she moved closer to him. Julia's eyes dropped down to the collar on his 'weekend outing' shirt. Securing her glass of wine down on the blanket first, she fiddled and played and pinched his collar, pleased it was unbuttoned at the top, her eyes seemingly entranced by it and said, "I DO like your suits, William… But, I must say, sometimes this more rugged look…"
He felt a button go… Such a lightning strike.
Julia cleared her throat, eyes enjoying the deeper peek at his flesh, "Your 'ranch-hand / lumberjack' look … mm…mm…mm," she told him, leaning her face closer, fluttering him with her breath. Then questioning herself about her statement, she tilted her head and divulged, "Though... those less roomy suits you used to wear back when we first met… those were quite nice too," she nodded agreeing with herself, savoring the secret memories of the lust-spurring sight of Detective William Murdoch in his more revealing suits of old. Her big, blue eyes dillydallied further down his casual, now even more unbuttoned, shirt, releasing one more of the little captors, revealing the convexing contours of his pectoral muscles, and then she slipped her palms up along the outside of the shirt fabric covering his chest, sneaking up under the lapels of his western-looking, shorter, and deliciously tighter, suede jacket, her hands riding the firm bulges of his deltoid muscles, guiding the jacket lower down his arms until her fingers found his biceps, under the jacket sleeves. "Not to mention those new, deliciously snug, denim trousers…"
William stopped her there, his fingers under her chin, picking up her face, bringing her eyes to his. She sensed it, well hidden under his scolding look, his longing. She smiled and leaned back, just a little and concluded, "Such a feast for the eyes, is all," with a shrug.
)
After they had finished lunch and cleaned it up, the three of them lie flat-out on their backs together, gazing up at the clear blue sky. It was the baby's nap time, and so it was no surprise the two-year old fell off to sleep… but Julia, that was less expected. William had spoken to her, in a whisper, not wanting to wake the sleeping toddler on the other side of her. It was her lack of an answer that had made him smile. Julia had fallen asleep too. He basked there, in his memories, of her sexual advances, sometime in the dawn of morning, a mere few hours ago, and then her being downstairs later, preparing breakfast for them all, after he had dreamily slumbered in the gift of her letting him sleep in. "Contentment," was not a strong enough word for the feelings in his heart, perhaps "absolute gratitude to God" for his good fortune, he suggested to himself. William allowed the euphoric feelings to linger, to sink in, enhancing them with a deep breath, fueling the flames. He was so very, very happy.
Sometime later, Julia wafted closer and closer to consciousness, the heaviness, the sweet oscillation of her sleepy swaying settling until she knew, at that moment, that she was awake. Her eyes opened already aware that he was there. His attention so soft, yet focused on her, and she was certain, he had been adoring her, adoring both her and their baby, cherishing them, but his focus had returned wholly to her, the way they each do sometimes of the other, marveling at their bounty and feeling the glow of love in their hearts.
Her eyes, magnetizing, big, beyond beautiful, breathtaking, stunning, as she opened them and held them adamant, unwaveringly fixed to his.
"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked him, after a moment of waiting, anticipating the tender touch of his lips to hers.
William pulled back slightly, "Julia," his tone one of shock, "We are in a public place," he reminded her, "There are people around," he lowered his voice to a whisper
Her eyebrow up so high, admonishing him, then turning to analyze the details of the scene – picnic blanket spread out on the grass, the two of them lying together on it, in the same, exact, perfect, spot, the subtle whiff of alcohol on their breath…
And happily, they both fell into a huddle of shushed laughter at the absurdity that he would dare to say such a thing in light of where they were.
The laughter calming, William explained, "I thought I'd let you go back to sleep... maybe you'll dream I'm kissing you," his voice ended with a cocky edge to it, his fingers failing to resist grasping one of her curls.
She took a deep breath, let his closeness descend into her more deeply, his smell, his eyes twinkling at her, "I'd rather have you BE my dream come true…"
And with that final wish, he did kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her, kiss, after wonderful kiss…
)
Not aware that she had drifted off once more, Julia awoke to discover herself still on the picnic blanket in the park, now lying on her side, facing away from William. "Fifteen minutes, perhaps a half an hour?" she questioned how long she had slept, feeling the grogginess dissipate. William's voice… "He must be talking to William Jr.," she reasoned, his tone the one he used with their little son.
"Big boys…" William said, Julia determining from his chosen words that he was in the process of trying to convince the child to do something, "…learn to use the toilet. That way they don't have to wear diapers anymore."
"Like Daddy," William Jr.'s sweet voice answered.
"Mm-hmm," Julia heard William reply, "And Mommy, and two-year-olds, like you almost are, like your friend Alice. Shall we try using a potty at home, so you can start to learn?"
"O.K. Daddy," the little one agreed, motivated to be a big boy, subconsciously striving for his parents to love him, to be proud of him.
Julia rolled over to center their little son between them and added, "And then Eloise won't have to use Daddy's laundry cupboard all the time to wash all those dirty diapers anymore. I'm sure she will be glad of that, hmm?" she nestled her face into the little boy's soft black curls and gave him a kiss.
"Mmm," William said enthusiastically, "She'll have more time to make her yummy meals… and desserts," his eyes widening with their mutual delight at the idea.
Diaper changed, child back in his short pants, William sat up and reminded himself about the pond just down the hill. They could rinse out the dirty diaper there. Then he remembered, motioning off in the distance, prompting the rest of his family to follow suit. "I saw a rowboat, over on the other side of the pond…" unable to finish his thought before…
Julia exulted, "What fun!" and gave her son an excited squeeze, "A ride in a boat."
)
The Murdoch father had ventured to traipse across the swampy mess of the pond's shore to get the rowboat for his family and then paddle it over to retrieve them. While Julia and William Jr. waited for him to return, Julia took the opportunity to show her young son some of the wildlife at the pond's edge. They named the algae, and the cattails, and they saw a frog take a jump into the water and swim underneath it to get away, with his really long legs. It was great fun.
The sound of the oars stroking the water caught Julia's notice and she lifted her hand to shade her eyes to see William coming to shore. She took William Jr.'s hand and guided him back to make room for the boat.
"Ships ahoy," William called out, clearly having a blast with this whole ordeal. The boat slid up through the muck to make land and William jumped out, pulling it a bit further up on the shore to secure it.
He reached his hands out and said to Julia, "Hand me that pirate, matey," using his best pirate "argh," after the request. William held the baby and helped Julia step into the boat before handing the little one over to her, holding the boat steady while she settled them down together on the front seat facing the back of the boat, where he would sit to work the oars.
Once William had pushed them out into the water and jumped in to sit on the back seat facing them, she said, "It brings back memories of the Inspectors son, Bobby… playing at being pirates, does it not?"
"Yes," he said, remembering the time distinctly, poignantly, he and Julia walking arm in arm in the park, coming upon the Brackenreid's playing with their son in his "pirate ship." The Inspector and his boy engaged in a sword fight, Margaret cheering them on. William had even joined in with the game for a while.
"Yes," he said again, his tone more thoughtful, "Bittersweet." He gave her his wrinkled corner of the mouth expression.
The gesture making Julia curious. "For me, certainly…" she questioned.
He nodded, explaining, "We were parted Julia. I was… troubled."
"You met Enid then," she pushed him, thinking it had stung her far more than it had him.
Then he said it. It rocked her soul with its magnitude, for it proved that it was true with him, that what he vowed to her all the time was profoundly true for him, that everything, everything, always comes back to her.
"And you had the seed planted in your head that day, that I would never be able to love you… It started that day, you said…" his brown eyes so melty, showing his pain as they held to hers, "With your seeing my wish to have a big family," he blew out some air, the action burning the remembered pain deeper into his chest, "You decided it then, that it was better for me to be with someone else, not to be with you. It's why you left me to go to Buffalo," his eyes held unblinking to hers, letting her see the sincerity of the hurt of it. And the boat slowed in its glassy-smooth drifting, for the oars had ceased, as if stuck somehow in a mirror of a different time.
"I see," she said. And she did.
Both turned, in a subconscious, agreed upon kind of unison, to change the conversation, both focusing on William Jr. once more.
The little toddler had been watching them, listening to them, entranced by the adult's intense talk. But now, he snapped back – a wonder, how such a small child can know his parents have turned to him to help them, to bring them back to a happier reality and time.
"Faster Daddy!" he urged.
Julia considered, as the boat made it to the center of the pond, William's comment about the memory being bittersweet, now understanding the reasons that William would feel it had been bitter, and instead finding she was feeling challenged to find the sweet. "Perhaps it was because he had been able to get Bobby back from the kidnappers, and the Inspector s family was so happy. Perhaps it was because they themselves had ended up even happier in the end…"
Quietly, William ceased paddling, let the boat slow. "I've been PONDering," he attempted one of her puns, only to be disappointed when she did not laugh, finding as he checked, that she was apparently deep in thought. He sighed and then gazed out at the autumn view. "Look at the colors of the trees, and how they reflect in the water," his voice awed.
"Booful," William Jr. said.
"It is booful, isn't it?" Julia hugged him tight in her lap.
The toddler squiggled, wanting down, wanting to get to the edge of the boat, to feel the cool water glide over his hand…
Her maternal instincts, immediately keenly aware of the danger, clutched him tighter.
And, being almost two, his typical toddler reaction was to up the ante, demanding to be let go.
Her eyes jumped to William's, pleading for help.
It had been problematic in the past. William sighed, it would likely be 'an issue' for them in the future as well, he reminded himself, their disagreements over the amount of risk-taking that was good for a child.
Julia noticed his reticence, concluding, "William thinks I should let him go… go to the edge of the boa…"
Suddenly, his mother released him.
With an excited squeal, William Jr. darted to the edge and kneeled down on the floor of the boat to bend over the edge and splash the water.
"So cold!" he exclaimed, eyes bugged wide.
"So pay attention. Make sure you don't fall in," William cautioned.
"O.K. Daddy," came the answer.
Touched by the trusting and the care and the confidence inherent in their father-son exchange, and even more so, calmed by the boy's decision to kneel - even when not told to do so, Julia made herself breathe. Still, she heard herself warn the precious baby, "Be careful, please, William Jr. It's not the bathtub. It's very deep."
"O.K. Mommy," he answered her.
"Can I come see too?" she asked, "Can you see any fish?" She tried so desperately to be as assured as William.
)
Back on shore, William decided to leave the boat where they had landed it. William Jr. wanted to find the frog – "to show Daddy."
They all hunted for the frog, any frog, for a while, having fun finding all sorts of things instead. Julia voiced a thought, that they could feed the fish and frogs and whatever else, some of the caramel popcorn. "William Jr. hadn't finished his earlier," she suggested, and William went to get it.
Disappointingly, it seemed that the wildlife was not the slightest bit interested in coming to eat the popcorn, well at least not the little fishes they had spotted in the shallow water, anyway. A few minutes later, though, Julia spotted a turtle.
"I bet he'll want some popcorn," she hoped, tossing the last piece of the treat she had in her hand out in front of the creature. She imagined getting the impressively large turtle to come closer and closer by making a trail with the caramel popcorn, but also, she noticed, on some far-off level, that their little boy, with his bag of what was left of their caramel popcorn, was not around. Subconsciously her body stiffened, becoming alert to the danger. But, she was distracted, and William had started to push aside the willowy cattails and to step off into the muck to go catch, what he called, 'the walking rock.'
"This will be great to show William Jr.," William gleamed with a whisper, so as not to frighten off the beast, as he snuck deeper into the tall weeds.
"Be careful, William," Julia sounded worried, "It might be a snapping turt…"
WILLIAM JR.'S BLOODCURDLING SCREAMS SHRIEKED THE AIR from behind them, sending electrical shockwaves through his parents, so immediately full of adrenalin that they wouldn't even remember running to him…
! - !
Suddenly overtaken, lost in a swarm of geese, taller than him, bigger than him, aggressive, lunging and prodding and poking and pinching and fighting with each other to gain the advantage in stealing away the tiny, helpless, little human's treasure, William Jr.'s brain instinctively giving him bad advice, to hold onto his bag of caramel popcorn with all his might, creating a dangerous game of tug-of-war with the monstrous beasts, their scary, hard, pointy beaks stabbing in at him from the front, and from behind, and from all sides, overwhelming the terrified little toddler with their squawking, and their flapping onslaughts, and those awful beady eyes… Fear! Panic! Terror engulfed the little child. But then, from somewhere, somewhere far way and inside and close, like inside his head or in his chest, like his Daddy's voice, and his Mommy's voice, and somehow his own too, came the sturdy, guaranteed instruction – Scream!Scream! Scream with everything you have. They will come! They will come.
And William Jr.'s bloodcurdling screams filled the air…
Instantly his Daddy had him in his arms, and he buried his face in his Daddy's big, safe shoulder, and he heard his own muffled screams still shrieking and shrieking with his fear, and his Daddy's heart pounded so, and his Daddy's big, strong words told him that, "he was alright," and then his Daddy squeezed him even tighter to his chest, as he engaged in battle with the beasts, joining his mother... William Jr. definitely heard his mother, his mother fighting too! Fighting for him.
Soon, his Mommy's soft warmth behind him, William Jr. was sandwiched, cocooned, between them, and she told her Little One in his ear that, "The scary geese are gone now. You're fine. Breathe, sweetie. It's O.K. It's O.K…"
And then his Daddy insisted, insisted that he look, look to see that the geese were gone, that it was safe now, and although he clung to his Daddy with all his might, he was still lowered down until his feet touched the ground.
"Come on, my big boy," his Daddy encouraged, "You can stand by yourself. We scared the geese away…"
His Mommy next to him, said, "We promise, Little One. Here, hold my hand."
And the boy was brave, for he let go of his big, strong Daddy, and he stood on his own, holding his Mommy's hand.
"Good," his father said. "One of your first adventures."
Such a whirlwind seemed to spin all around him, and it seemed so strange that everything except his head was completely still. And William Jr. decided that he wasn't so sure he liked "adventures" much.
"Now, where did that turtle go," his mother took a deep breath and turned to the art of distraction to teach her young child coping skills. It had been quite a scare for such a tiny little boy to be attacked by a gaggle of geese, and he would need to forget about it, at least for a little while, so as not to have a domino-effect expand his panic. "Mommy and Daddy saw a big, big turtle. Daddy said it looked like a walking rock…"
) (
Home, truly, there was no place else like it, William worked out with his weights while Julia and the baby played together in the playroom right next to his workroom. Contentedly, between his grunts, which he made major efforts to stifle so as not to be overheard struggling by Julia, he listened to their intermittent conversations. The little boy was coloring with crayons, and, he imagined, Julia was reading alongside of him.
Picture in hand, already knowing she would like it, William Jr. brought his masterpiece to his Mommy.
She pulled him up into her lap, his back cuddling against her bosom, and his soft curls brushing under her chin, as he held his picture out, displayed in front of them both, and she admired the mishmash of lines and colors, unable to tell what, if anything, it was meant to be.
"What's this?" she asked him, the smell of his bath seeping sweetly into her nose. As she and her son both gazed down at his artwork, opened wide in front of them, a memory poured through her…
Julia had been a bit older than William Jr., maybe three or four. She had brought a picture she had colored to her mother. Similarly, her mother had scooped her up into her lap so lovingly and held out the pièce de résistance for them both to see. "A butterfly!" she had declared, "Julia, it's beautiful, and is this the yellow flower we saw it land on? My goodness, my beautiful Julia loves her colors!" The warmth, and love, the care, reaching far deeper than Julia had ever expected possible, the feelings were beyond moving, much more than touching – poignant, tender, powerful. It brought tears to her eyes. Such a beautiful memory of being loved by her mother, one she had never remembered before. And now, she was so grateful, in that moment, for… everything.
She squeezed her boy tight, kissed his hair, took in the smell of him, thanked him, thanked her mother, thanked William. So eloquent, she thought, the way the little boy accepted, tolerated, her unexplained swelling of love and emotion, not asking her why, just absorbing it.
Sniffling back the tears, she turned her attention back to the drawing and guessed that the blue squiggles at the top might be sky, and her lovely son nodded yes to her suggestion.
"You, Mommy… And Daddy. And me," he said.
And she, sort of, saw it, the red at the bottom, guessing aloud, "On the red blanket in the park today?"
"Yes Mommy," he answered and then wriggled free to go draw some more.
)
Julia warmed up the Beef Stroganoff from yesterday, along with a few other things for a light dinner. William had been right, it tasted even better than it would have in his office on a Friday, and she forgave herself for her mistake about his Catholic faith in her head one more time.
Interrupting them, there had been a phone call. William returned to the table and told her that it was their handyman at their body farm, Jake Castern. He had found evidence that someone had tried to dump a body again, but, fortunately, the culprit had gotten caught in William's trap. They had pictures! The scrutiny cameras had taken photographs, and the man's face would most likely be on the film. Regrettably, the perpetrator had escaped his capture, eventually, leaving only the evidence of his attempted crime behind, deployed nets hanging from trees, one of which had been cut-opened with a knife, and multiple expended red-dye packs that had successfully fired off along the fence line, most likely covering the man who had triggered the booby-trap in red dye. At least, William speculated that that was what the photographs would show. He was bubbling with excitement, and pride, for his trap had worked! He wanted to go, right now, to get the film, but Julia talked him into waiting until tomorrow. It was agreed that he would take a trip to the Body farm tomorrow, after church, to get the film and reset the traps. Maybe catching the "Body-Farm Dumper" wasn't going to be so hard after all…
)
William Jr. had been tucked into bed quite some time ago. William remained downstairs reading up on still more possible machine parts that could conceivably make a bruise on a man's leg, like the one they had found on the victim – an overly large hand-like shape, with one larger bottom circle surrounded by four symmetrically placed semicircles. It was a puzzle. Julia headed upstairs to get ready for bed.
She spotted it instantly, waiting for her on her vanity. William must have expected she would find it there when she brushed her hair for the night. "So that was why he was so reluctant to come upstairs with me!" She figured, it making sense knowing William as well as she did, that he wanted her to find it alone, so he wouldn't feel awkward. "He must have done all of this today, collected the leaves, made the leaf-shaped pages for the notes he wanted to write, tied all the stems of the hearts together to make a… What could you even call it?" she wondered in her head, breathless, "This spectacular love-note, a little love-booklet, I guess."
The top leaf was a heart-shaped note, written in William's hand. It said, "The Story of My Heart."
Julia sat, still a bit stunned, in her chair at her vanity, and stroked his gift with her fingers, treasuring it already. There was an urge to cry, tingling and warming in the backs of her eyes and a choked-up tightening in her throat. He had a wonderful heart, and she already knew, William's had been a heart-wrenching, as well as heartwarming, story. She folded back that top note and discovered a green, heart-shaped leaf underneath. The surface of the leaf was still moist, petal-soft with youth, and she bent it back ever so carefully, to read the next note underneath it.
"Before I met you, my heart was green, inexperienced in love and promised to another, devoted and loyal, strong and true. But, I did not know, I had not yet experienced, the fire, the power, the remarkably impossible effect of you."
Her mind flashed so many images, going in so many directions, but the trail she followed, as it glimmered and caught in her mind's eye, was of seeing William's pocket watch. Liza had given it to him. She had had it engraved, promising her love for him, and he had suffered so terribly with her illness and her death. And Julia knew then, had suspected it even that early on, in her own heart that she loved this man, this man who was so dedicated to another. And she felt guilt, guilt that the woman's death had offered her the opportunity to love him, to have his love. Still now, she noticed, she felt that guilt.
She took a deep breath, ready to move on in the story of William's heart.
Under the note for the green leaf, there was a beautiful, heart-shaped leaf, this one orange and yellow, the colors so vibrant, flaming and pure, reminding of fire, and she wondered with such intensity, what the note under it would say. She bent the hue-changing leaf back, saw the words written there…
"But the very moment I met you, it was the power of the glowing, burning, undeniable need to be closer to you, to be with you … I felt it, first, just a flutter, a tickle, the fuse catching, catching that tiny, little stem, from outside directly to my deepest center of my heart, like the wick in a candle, and my world, my life, would never be the same, for I knew it in that instant, you were the one for me, my match in every way, and I ignited, changed, became filled with a courage and a joy I had never known, a striving desire to be better, to be better than I was, better than I could be, for you. I loved you then, and I knew that I would love you forever."
Julia felt her face flush with the excitement of what he had written to her. "Courage and joy," her mind fiddled with the words, "Like a wick in a candle… closer… better… better for you."
The next leaf was orange, a deep, blood-orange, much like the color of the roses William had recently bought her. And her mind played a memory of her sitting at their kitchen table, his red-orange roses in the center, triggering her to remember him telling her on a night now seemingly long ago, when they were in their hotel right after they had been married, his roses clutched behind his back to surprise her, vowing that he would never stop courting her. "And he hadn't! He truly hadn't," she thought.
"Embers burn orange, my love, with a passion, a passion only felt when holding on, holding with everything you have, praying, hoping, regretting, for it hurts so, that it will never die, just glowing, and burning, pining, lonely, forever if need be, for you, like embers, have lost your flame, and so you wait, you endure, glowing away your every ounce of life, waiting, waiting all alone. And this is what my heart did then, like the orange embers left over in the fireplace, while you were betrothed, married, loving another. Not mine, maybe never again, mine."
The message was one of loss, and it hurt and burned inside her chest profoundly, swelling a tear that blurried the words under her eyes. And yet, she was so glad, grateful, that he had waited, that he not moved on, that he had not found another. Julia felt herself nodding, "yes, yes," to the realization that the story of his heart was the story of her heart, for they were one, and she knew it as surely as she knew she had marrow in her bones, they had always been one, and they always, always, would be… one.
Julia already knew, before she turned the page, before she bent the white paper shaped like a heart backwards to reveal it, still carefully she bent it, for this story, as William had found his own unique way to tell it, it was precious… and yet, she knew before she saw it, the last leaf would be red.
Her pupils, even so, despite already knowing, dilated wide with the beauty of the purity of the red heart in her hands, her breath taken, astounding, the vivid color. Tears flowed down her cheeks, for it was as if she held William's heart, itself, in her grasp, she felt such love inside of her. She swallowed back the burn of the emotions, bent the pure red heart, to discover that last page of the story of his heart.
"Then such an eruption, implosion… You, in that stunning, deep, velvety luscious, red dress at the Ball, and suddenly, there was an overflowing of abundance, profound, unbelievable, impossible and wonderful abundance, an abundance of oxygen to feed the flames, to breathe life into the red-blood pumping through my veins, you walked in and you set me on fire again, my love, re-kindled me, but so much stronger than I had ever been kindled before. It IS you Julia. YOU. You are my future, my now, my past. You are my everything. You are my very life energy, my primal life force."
The message too long, too long to fit on that one heart-shaped page, and so she turned one more leaf page, the final one, on the very bottom, the end of the tale of his heart.
"The touch of you, the torch of you inside my heart has become a boundless blaze, an undying inferno, and thus, my heart is alive, throbbing, pounding, crying and soaring, full, completely full, and yet, astoundingly I find, its love still grows more each day. And, although I give you this message with "leaves," leaves that have grown and thrived and now will die for having left their trees, you know, I know... we both know, that my promise to you, whispered endlessly, over and over again as we reach peak, after peak, together, that I will never, ever, truly LEAVE you... It is true. For our love is now forged, complete, solid, unbreakable, and eternal. We can never truly be the one without the other, not deep in our souls, not deep in our hearts. Yes, your heart may beat longer than mine, but if it does so, it will have ME inside of it, just as mine has YOU. And, I say to you, that if you ever need proof of this, of this endless and undying connection fusing us as one, you will find it in our son's eyes, my love. It is forever, this love we share, both me and you, forever, and honest, and true."
Julia Ogden found herself, gazing down at his written words, floored, beyond enamored with the romance of it, the sincerity of it. She decided then, to put on his favorite garment, a silky piece of flimsy lingerie. She would go downstairs to him. She would thank him, thoroughly, thoroughly thank him, through and through. She loved him so, and she wanted William Henry Murdoch to feel good, to feel very good – all over, from the top of his head down to the very tips of his toes, and everywhere, most certainly everywhere, in between.
Sometimes, when she looked at him,
he forgot…
forgot the case,
forgot whatever it was that he had just been thinking about,
forgot how to form words…
Even more terrifying,
he even forgot how to, or even that he needed to,
breathe.
He seemed to do nothing but fall,
fall into her.
)
First, attentively placing his heart leaves, entangled and mingled with the love notes that compiled the story of his heart, placing the trinket down on the side table next to him, where he sat by the fire in his recliner, his chocolate brown eyes glazed over and intense, thoroughly enchanted, captured by her, Julia took his mechanical journal out of his hands and assertively tossed it down onto the couch. She reached over, so scrumptious, William's gorgeous eyes dropping down to watch the gentle jiggles of her bosom trapped inside the fine thin silk as she did so, to click off the reading lamp. His breath already surging out of his nostrils, she crawled up on top of him, both of them bathed in the crackling, low firelight dancing in its golden hues, only making them each more beautiful to the other.
Her kiss was controlled, but deep, her breath telling him of her efforts in restraint, divulging her hunger for him, the steamy blasts charging, flaring, out of her nose, to pour hot and strong, each rapid cascade rushing its whirlwinds all over his face as her lips molded and moved and pushed into his, the sultry mist spilling down to titillate his neck.
Against his hard chest, spongy-soft, and so warm, her body, just under that silky, naughty, forbidden…
My God, she was all over him, moving with such a primal and urgent rhythm, rocking him down to his very soul with want. William's heart raged in his chest, betraying his strained hold on… everything. Resistance, his purest instinct, when the wave hit, when it hit this hard, when it hit this unexpectedly. But, he did want her. My God, he wanted her. And Julia's brain pounded and throbbed, begging him without a sound, "Let go William. Take me. Take what you want. Behave badly, my God, please," the overwhelming power of the spasms, and the twitches, and the twisting in her womb, threatening her very life force, as she pleaded with him in her head, and rubbed, and squeezed, and oozed all over him.
Such a mutual plummeting, when his hand snuck up the back of her long, supple thigh, and tucked seductively under the loosely-fitted opening of her lingerie bottoms. And he released an internal moan, so deep and abandoned that it spilled out into their kiss, at discovering her creamy warmth. His brashness not going unnoticed by her, oh, he knew that she felt it, that she felt him touching, that she felt him taking, for her body responded by growing heavier on him and then he felt her smile against his aroused skin. It warned she would tease…
"Do you think you're getting away with something there, detective," she slyly asked him, with a sharp nip, lusciously drowning the sting of it in her mouth's humid, satiny, rugged kiss, specifically at the most tender spot, the vulnerable, wild, throbbing of his neck, somehow, now his shirt torn away, her hands ravaging his chest muscles, moving down further to treasure his firm rippled stomach "Did you think you could, "COP," a feel," she giggled, rather rambunctiously, quite liking this particular joke of hers.
His smile, followed so very quickly by… the giggle breaking off abruptly, for his lust demanded seriousness, demanded that he act, insisted, charged, that he take her… now.
There was a tilt, the reclining chair resetting, now upright. A squeeze, but was it him or was it her, they hugged together so tightly, as the world seemed to drop and they floated, soared, up, high, her in his arms as he stood, with a spin. William flung her, so delightfully, commandingly, he flung her down onto the couch. His jaw tight, demanding, taking, he was taking. She couldn't breathe… couldn't breathe.
How the world reeled as she watched, as she heard, as she anticipated, and her insides crushed and wrung and gushed and flooded ahead with torqueing need, and she hung there helpless, weak, suspended with lustful begging, her world sheer torrents, for she watched as he undid his trousers. The pants, they were just gone, and he was… My God, he was so ready…
He would take of her bottoms, he would spread her thighs gaining access. He would have his way with her. He would… OH, MY, GOD… He would… He would…
)
Slowing, finished, both so deliciously finished, remaining euphorically boundaryless for a time, hearts touching, pounding the one into the other, still so fast, but slowing, and she loved him so much she could do nothing but quake underneath him as her crying began, perhaps from the utter exhaustion of striving to get him closer, to pull him near enough to reach their perfection together, and she basked in his care, for he loved her so, and he promised her there on their couch by the fire, secretly in her ear, that he would love her forever, for all of time.
By the time he rolled them over and she rested her head down on his chest to hear his heartrate had recovered, she found herself thinking of his sweet promises, and his heart-shaped leaves and his touching notes. A smile slipped onto her face, remembering how she had wanted to make him feel good.
"It seemed you quite liked it," she said, shifting upward over him a bit more.
Joy glowed her heart with his laugh, after it, typical of William, a simple, "Yes."
Her memory flashed then, back to their beginnings, he was beyond handsome then, even more attractive than he is today, and he had just asked her to the Dinosaur Ball. Adorably, William was so awkward, his big brain searching for what to say after she agreed to go with him, and stumbling, faltering, right before her very eyes, and she had loved him even more for it. He had managed to nod, charming, truth be told, and to say his simple, "Very good." My God, how she already loved him then.
They lie together, listening to just the crackling of the fire, watching the shadows and glows flicker and ripple in the room.
Julia cleared her throat, readying to tell him something. She felt his chin lower, his face tilting down to her, a soft kiss on her hair. Attentive, his fingers playing with a wisp of her curls. Taking her time, wanting to say it right, she inhaled and slowed herself down. "I admit that what you wrote in your heart-leaf story was true, in a sense…"
"Mmm," he answered.
His breath, warmed over her head as he exhaled – an effort at staying calm, perhaps?
"I know, William, that you are right, that I will always have your love. And it is such a wonderful feeling to know it so surely,"
He sensed it coming though, she knew he sensed it coming, the "but."
He rolled her, bringing them each to lie on their sides within their embrace, face to face. He tucked a cushion under his head and gave her his bicep as her pillow. Each lured by the other's eyes, Julia noticed that she had always felt her face was so small when William held it in his hand like this, and his fingers traced and memorized her cheeks and her jaw and her chin, and sometimes, so tenderly, her mouth. And Julia felt tears swell in her eyes, for she would tell him how deeply she felt her dread of losing him, she would tell him again, for she had told him many times before, and she would tell him again, she would tell him now.
"I… I cannot, William, I just can't," she started, shaking her head, slow but definite, the hypnotic motion attesting to it, "I can't…"
In William's mind the image flashed, so quickly, he found himself amazed it could land with such pain, the memory of her saying to him these exact same words, after he had returned from the Yukon, and they had restarted their working together even though she was married to Darcy, and she told him back then, late at night in his office, in a similar lowlight, that she couldn't bear the pain of being with him while not being able to love him, and she had to leave, leave the morgue, leave him. He would lose her again, and it was so profoundly a huge loss, it had felt like a forever loss, and with the memory of it, William, too, felt the heat of the watery pools of tears filling his eyes.
Julia had to touch him, seeing his tears forming, her delicate fingers cupping his cheek, scratching back into his fine hair, catching the tender edge of his ear. "I'm sorry, so sorry, William, but I can't agree, adamantly, I cannot agree that it is possible that you could never leave me. I could not feel such pain in the imagining of it, if it were not so, if you could not be gone someday."
And though he did not say it, he did not nod, still, Julia knew he understood, he agreed, he knew what she said was true. She leaned in, salty, the taste, the heat of the kiss.
"You said the leaves would die, for having left their trees…"
Now, William did nod.
He cleared his throat, so choked-up and dry, "But the notes won't," he ended up whispering it, hanging on, like those orange embers, holding out for hope.
"No, no they won't," she gave, "But the leaves, like your body, will. And when…" she decided to add an, "if," for it was possible that she would die before him, "if… you die before I do, then there is no doubt that you will have left me, William. Without you, I will be alone. But, like the notes, it is true, I will always know I have your love. Always," she kissed him deeper now. The soft 'tick' as the kiss broke off, warm like the fire, and her lips kissed down his jaw to his ear, "Always," she whispered, again.
A few moments later, the searing intensity of their discussion cooled and settled, she worried that the beautiful leaves he had collected for her would become brown and brittle, and fade away. William had an idea – he would photograph each leaf-page. He knew an art studio where they could color in the photographs. She would have it, the story of his heart, she would have it forever.
Agreed, comforted, after that, William rolled her onto her back, tucking her snuggly between himself and the confines of the couch, and a cozy silence ensued. Their minds meandered, here and there, playing out much of the events of the day.
William began to plan out tomorrow – Early Mass, then up to meet Jake Castern at the Body Farm…
Julia had become involved with admiring his physique, her fingers and eyes traveling the various enticing contours of his arms, and his shoulders, and his chest, and his stomach. Her voice broke the silence.
"Was your work-out strenuous today?" she asked him, not ceasing her adoring stoking.
"Mm-hmm," his simple answer, his own attentions drawn to focus on the beauty of her face, her blushed skin, entrancingly blue eyes.
"Thank you," she giggled, and then wondered, lifting a discerning eyebrow at him, "You do do all that muscle-building for me, do you not?"
His eyes caught hers – my God, it never ceased to amaze her how warm, and deep, and big, and gorgeous his eyes were.
"I do it for the magic of this," he said, a gentle gesturing with his hand waving down the pair of them clung together, intimate, romantic…
"For the sex?" she checked.
He chuckled, for it was true, and her surprise that he would say so tickled him, but there was more. "Julia, this, what we have, it is much more than sex, it makes breathing worth…"
Julia jerked up to stare out at the foyer. "I heard something," she whispered.
William alerted too, he had also heard…
Little William Jr. emerged around the corner, his trusted stuffed rabbit, Blanco, in tow, clutched by the ear.
The little toddler had brought himself down the stairs. He was looking for them… didn't find them in their bedroom, their minds hurried to explain their son's unexpected appearance.
"Baby! Little One, what is it?" Julia's sweet concerned voice soothed, and she pushed over William to sit up and open her arms to catch the running tike, who jumped into her arms and buried his face in her pillowy softness.
"Hey, hey," she kissed into his black curls, blanketing the tiny distressed one with nurturing rubs and soothing hugs. "Mommy and Daddy are right here, hmm? Everything's fine, sweetie," she promised.
William was half-way through rushing to put his trousers back on when his brain reminded him that their baby commonly saw them each naked – they each even took baths with him sometimes. Besides, William Jr.'s face being completely submerged in his mother as it was, their tiny son had likely not even noticed his parents' half-naked states anyway, he decided. He buttoned up his trousers, leaned over and got Julia's bottoms from the floor too, meeting her eye as he placed them on the couch next to her, then sat down next to them and joined in on the soothing.
Julia took a deep breath. William knew she had figured something important out. She was amazingly good at things like this. She gave him a look, reassuring him that he was right. Her voice low, in an effort to keep it between the parents, "The Park," was all she said, and William's mind searched, arriving quickly to the memory of the wild geese attacking the little toddler.
Julia tucked her face down closer to her son again and said, "Sometimes, when scary things happen, we have bad dreams. But they're not real, Little One. Dreams aren't real. There are no scary geese here. You're safe, I promise."
William stood and leaned over to get his voice close to his son. "When I have bad dreams, or your Mommy has bad dreams, we share a hot chocolate. I'll go make some, hmm? It's warm, and yummy…" He rubbed his son's small back reassuringly, and stood up to go make the warm treat.
But then, William returned, far too quickly, Julia knew.
"I thought of what I do in my dreams, to not be so scared," William encouraged. "I get mad… I get mad at the geese for scaring me, for trying to take my caramel corn…"
William Jr. turned, his face now out of his mother's softness, it was easier to breathe. His eyes were big, so big, and the room seemed to tingle as he absorbed his Daddy's words. So very intently, he listened.
"And I get very, very big…" William's arms reached up and out wide, filling the space, "And I growl at them," his teeth gritted in anger, his eyes like rockets, "And I flap something around…" he grabbed a pillow from the couch across from them and flailed it up and down, "to chase them away. You could use Blanco, or your coat, or a stick. You just need to look big, to scare them away…"
His Mommy shifted under him, nudged him, "Go on, try it," she urged. "I'll try it too," she added.
William put the pillow he had used to flap about and placed it out in front of him, offering a target.
William Jr.'s feet on the floor, his Daddy looked so very big as he stared up to see his focused expression. "Fight the pillow. Pretend it's the geese," the same voice that William Jr. had heard earlier telling him to scream, when the geese were assailing him, that voice that was from deep inside of him somewhere, and sounded like Mommy and Daddy and him, and it told him, now, so quietly, so quietly that he wasn't really sure he had heard it at all, it told him to fight...
William crouched down, held the pillow out steady in front of William Jr., willing the small, small boy to swing at it.
And then William said to his son, "You have to be strong in your heart, angry and fierce, ferocious and invincible, like a LION in your heart…" And his eyes grew wide watching the change in his Little Man, for the boy focused, like a bullet on that pillow…
Watching on, Julia's thoughts leapt inside her head, seeing William, imagining him years ago when he jumped off that high, high bridge into the shallow river below, chasing after theirmonster, James Gillies… and then of him leading, marching forward with his men so courageously, down into the gangs on the docks to arrest the Inspector's attackers, the bloodthirsty O'Shea brothers. And then, this last image so close to home it hit with a jolt, as she saw him in her mind, surging forward into the burning building to save her, dousing the Grim Reaper's threatening flames, certain death engulfing her, and he fought it off with a soggy blanket, his silhouette suddenly there, "Just a mirage… No, no it WAS him," her inner-voice told. William Murdoch truly embodied the heart of a lion at times, and a part of her knew there was a weighty, unfathomable importance, a magic, in this transfer she was witnessing, from a father to his son, from THIS father to THIS son…
And yet, it hovered there, "perhaps a feminine trait?" part of her wondered. There was, inside of her, a desperate wishing to the universe, a pleading that her beautiful little boy would be alright, that he would be alright living his life with such a lion heart.
Suddenly, a strange chill running up her spine, twinging her every cell with a mysterious whoosh, there was the silentest of whispers, its voice, that of her own mother and her own father and her own voice too, and now, she realized it with an awe-inspired, huh, for there was also William's voice entwined in the tone of the inner voice she heard, firing off a tangential image of herself sitting upstairs at her vanity holding William's red-heart-leaf in her hands, and this voice, her own inner counsel, told her the profoundest of truths, "You too, Julia… you too have a lion heart," and then she remembered herself diving into the cold, salty sea water while they were sinking deep in the bowels of a sabotaged ship to save William… And she knew, she understood, that our hearts grow braver, stronger, grow more powerful because of the people who have loved us, and because of the people we have loved, and she knew, in that moment, that she too had a lion heart, and with it she would do whatever was necessary to save them, to save the ones she loved with all her heart, just as William would.
Her teeth gritted, remembering clearly her rage in the Park today, at those horrid geese. How dare they hurt her innocent child? It had been a fury that boiled in her blood. She would have done anything necessary to save her little child, and she would have killed those foul beasts for even trying to hurt him, if she could have, her kicks and her swings meant to be fatal as much as anything else. She figured it had been the same for William, too, at the time. And a part of her felt the slightest pang of regret, for somewhere out there, now, in the cold of night, some of those geese may have been suffering from the injuries those very same blows had inflicted upon them, for surely the first animal she had smashed at, she figured, had most likely ended up bleeding out and dying… Yes, it was true, she, too, had a lion heart.
All that happening so quickly inside of her as she watched on, and she saw their beautiful little toddler son clench his few baby teeth tight and hone every ounce of the juice of his little life into his LION heart, and burst outward from his center as he wound up for the attack, powerful and strong, and that pillow experienced his mighty wrath, mighty, at least, for a two-year old.
Pillow defeated, William hoisted his son up into the air victoriously and plopped him on his shoulders. Julia clapped and cheered as he paraded the boy around, and celebration of the child's success was enjoyed by all. Soon, the Murdoch family's self-defense lesson had morphed into roughhousing and laughter and fun, but the message was clear…
Sometimes, if there's enough love, you'll have a lion in your heart, especially, especially, when you need it most.
**And it should be noted for this story, thankfully, that becoming lionhearted can make the nearly impossible possible, and this is most assuredly good, because sometimes, sometimes in life, one will encounter the Tiger, rather than, or even in order to save, the Lady**
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