He turned the envelope over and over in his hands, tapping it on the edge of the Formica table every other rotation. His eyes hadn't left the golden color mailer since yesterday afternoon when it had arrived in the mail. His name was written in bold confident strokes on the front, with some letters donning ornate tails. It wasn't every day he got mail especially mail as fancy as this one. Logan let out a sigh and shook his head at the object of his concentration. For over 12 hours he had been holding onto it, curious of its contents but had yet to open it. Now after an uneventful night at one of the numerous bars in lowtown, Logan was still hesitant. After nearly 3 months away, the return address: Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, Salem Center, New York, USA was beginning to bring back way too many memories.
Normally sensitive to everything around him this morning he was unaware of the sights and sounds. Not even Amiko's tearing through the kitchen; banging kitchen cabinets and slamming the refrigerator door made him look up from the letter still clutched in his hand.
"Do you want breakfast, Logan? I can make you something?"
There was no answer. He'd been back for 3 months (the longest he had ever stayed) and he still wasn't himself. There were many nights he didn't come home or would slip in at dawn. He was sleeping on the couch and he and Yukio barely spoke. At least the fighting had stopped but it was different. Amiko hated the silence. She liked it better when he got mad or was disappointed in her. Even when she came home with a bad grade on a paper he shrugged it off. He had stopped caring and Amiko was worried. She watched him turning the envelope over and over and finally sat at the table across from him eying it closely.
"A letter from New York. Wow."
He finally acknowledged her and furrowed his brow in her direction, "Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"
"I have plenty of time." She knew to tread carefully. "So why haven't you opened it?"
"I'm sure it's not important."
"You're not curious?"
"Not really."
"The person who sent it has really nice handwriting. They took a lot of time doing that. You should open it." Elbows on the table she leaned onto her hands staring at him.
He put the letter on the table top and shoved it over to her, "You're so curious, you open it. Be my guest."
"But it could be private. It's not right to read other people's mail."
"I'm giving you my permission." He pushed it a little closer.
Amiko picked it up and read the return address, "It's from the mutant school you've told me about."
He nodded.
Not getting any response from him she returned to the envelope and carefully began to open it. Not wanting to ruin its contents she was trying to peel the flap without tearing it. She had always been meticulous this way. Never one to tear through wrapping paper on presents either. Logan began to glare at her as she tried slipping a small fingernail between the envelope and flap. The glue was too strong and she wasn't making any progress.
He began fidgeting in his chair as the seconds ticked by, finally out of frustration one blade from his right hand appeared and the snickt of the blade startled Amiko and she scooted her chair back, eyes now on his hand. She knew about the blades but it was a rare occasion when she ever saw them in the flat. Here he was just Logan. Sometimes moody, sometimes irritated but just Logan, her foster father, the man who loved her and made sure she got everything she needed. Wolverine was just someone she heard stories about in the streets or at school.
His hand reached across the table and the blade was now a foot away from her, "You going to take all day opening that damn thing?"
"I don't want to ruin anything inside." The envelope was now clutched close to her chest, "And I don't see the big hurry since you obviously have had it since the post arrived yesterday."
She had a point there. "I'll open it. You read it." She slowly brought the letter closer to his bladed hand, "I won't hurt you. Just hold the letter still." Amiko couldn't take her eyes off him as the blade sliced open the top with sharp precision. The blade retracted back into his skin, with a snikt. Amiko watched his face. As usual it was unreadable.
"Does it hurt?" She asked.
"Always." This was a common answer and he never offered any other explanation about it. Not liking to talk about it, a short sweet answer always seemed the easy way out. He pointed at the letter, "So get on with it. You're dying of curiosity."
Amiko carefully pulled the contents out of the envelope as Logan got up and paced the floor. As she unfolded the letter, a newspaper clipping fell out between the sheets along with a ticket. "It's a ticket to something." She held up the ticket but Logan didn't turn around. The name on the ticket didn't mean anything to her. Hannah Masterson. Miller Theater. Columbia Univeristy The date was this coming Saturday. She unfolded the clipping, "Hannah Masterson. Is this the woman? The one you left behind in the United States?" Amiko's voice became animated as she looked at the picture accompanying the article. Logan still hadn't turned towards her and continued to pace the floor, his fists now clenched. "She's playing on Saturday and this ticket is for her concert." She picked up the letter and read it outloud. "Dear Logan, I realize this will come to you at fairly short notice but I wanted you to have the opportunity to witness Hannah's return to the concert stage. Her playing at this time has far exceeded anything she has done in the past due to her diligence and focus on her craft. Graham Eastborne has proved to be a worthy tutor and pushes her consistently. I realized that it might not be the appropriate time for your return but I wanted you to have the choice." Amiko stopped and looked at him. He was listening as he now braced himself against the sink. His back still turned away from her. "Are you going to go?"
There wasn't a sound. Amiko looked back at the letter. "There really isn't anything else except that it's been quiet at the mansion. And it's signed Dr. Henry McCoy. He's awfully fancy isn't he? Using big words and everything."
Logan still didn't move, "Are you alright, Logan?"
"Fine, " he managed to say.
"So she is the one isn't she?"
"There isn't a one, Amiko, I told you that." Emphasizing one, his tone was now sharp.
"Okay, she's not the one, but you should go. You could get a flight to New York today and be there in time for the concert. This Dr. McCoy guy wouldn't have written to you if he didn't think you wanted to be there."
"Why would I want to be there? Classical music…boring." Logan felt agitated but he also knew there was no reason to upset his ward, so he tried lightening his tone and shrugging off his anger.
Amiko looked at her picture, "She's beautiful. She's just like I imagined. Very elegant, a real lady. I think it's romantic. It's like Beauty and the…" She stopped when she realized what she was saying.
"the Beast? Is that what you were going to say?"
Amiko looked up at his face expecting his anger to flare up, "Logan, I'm sorry."
There was no facial reaction just his stern voice commanding, " Get ready for school."
"I didn't mean anything bad by it, really." There was more she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she knew he was unhappy. For once she wanted to do something for him.
He turned to her and saw the sadness in her eyes. She was a kid and he had no right to take out anything on her. He managed a crooked smile and pulled her ponytail gently, "I know you didn't, kiddo. You've just got an overactive imagination, which is a good thing. Doubt I could live up to that Beast comparison though. Doesn't he turn into some handsome prince when Beauty falls in love with him or something.? Like that's ever going to happen to me."
She pulled on his chin and he leaned towards her. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and smiled, "I think you have a lot of fairy tale prince qualities, Logan." She pointed to his chest, "They're in there and I can see them. I bet Miss Masterson's seem them too. You're not always the tough bad guy."
As she pulled away from him he a felt a little flummoxed but before he could say anything she had skipped into the other room to get her ready for school. He picked up the article and brushed his thumb across Hannah's image, then reached for the ticket. It was tempting. He wondered about Henry's sudden invite. A year away had been the plan and he was determined to keep his distance but did Henry have another reason for summoning him back to the mansion? Was Hannah in trouble? He skimmed the article; mentions of classical pieces and practicing schedules meant nothing to him. Then something caught his eye.
THERE SEEMS TO BE A SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MISS MASTERSON AND THE ONCE WORLD REKNOWN CHILD PRODIGY GRAHAM EASTBORNE. SPECULATION CONCERNING THIS PAIRING GOES BEYOND THE PRACTICE ROOM.
Any concern disappeared quickly as the words jumped out at him. Of course it was bound to happen. His departure was like throwing her into the guy's lap. And wasn't this exactly what he would want for her? A normal life with a guy that has everything in common with her? He felt himself tensing up as he crumpled the article and letter in his hand. The ticket sat on the table and without any hesitation he picked it up and ripped it in half, just as Amiko appeared at the doorway backpack in hand.
"I guess you're not going to the concert then."
"Guess you're right."
"You could send her flowers. I think that's what they do at concerts or opening nights of plays. I bet Miss Masterson likes flowers."
He turned to Amiko, scowling, "We won't be mentioning Miss Masterson's name in this house again. Is that clear?"
"Logan….I don't understand."
"You're a kid, you're not meant to. Now get going, you don't want to miss your bus.
Meanwhile in Greenwich Village…
Their routine fell into place quite easily. Practicing, light dinner and bed. In the morning, Hannah found herself drawn to the piano before Graham awoke but didn't feel any remorse in plunging into a Chopin Nocturne or Bach Minuet to warm up. She sat at the piano in one of his t-shirts and her underwear gliding through a piece with ease while Graham wiped the sleep from his eyes and propped himself up to get better view of the mesmerizing sight in front of him. He was not disturbed by the interruption. Having her so close was all he could have ever asked for.
Hannah turned to him and saw that look in his eyes, which was often present. It was not Graham the teacher. "You're not doing your job. I haven't heard one criticism out of you since we got back last night from the school and how can I improve without you telling me what is wrong?"
"It's a little flat, not enough life." Although the man inside had other thoughts, he was still able to focus on what was important.
"You can't be serious," she blurted out shocked by his words.
"I'm dead serious. I think everything is perfect. Every trill, every grace note, dynamics, but it's nothing special." She sighed and looked a little disgruntled, "Hey, I'm being honest."
"Show me."
Graham did not play in front of anyone anymore and he was thrown when Hannah stood up and glared at him, pointing at the keys.
"I want to hear something special."
"You will if you keep at it and put more life into it." He remained calm.
"No, I need to see how it is done and don't give me your excuses." She moved over to the bed and flopped back down onto it.
"It isn't going to happen."
"It will happen because until it does, I refuse to play and I refuse to join you in bed."
He sat up abruptly, "That's blackmail."
She leaned into him, brushing her hand across his cheek, placing a tender kiss on his lips. She looked at him seriously, "You stopped playing because of me, now start playing because of me."
He was hesitant, but she looked at him in a way that it was hard not to give in. She always got what she wanted in the end, wasn't that what her father said?
She gently pulled on his arm, "You've wanted to do this for awhile."
"I can think of something else I want much more." He raised his eyebrows playfully as she continued tugging on his arm.
She smiled, "You know I have a thing for piano players. Watching you play might put me over the edge."
"You're full of shit." He was now out of bed, naked and being pulled gently towards the piano bench, "I don't think I can play naked."
He sat down on the bench, feeling incredibly exposed. "I just played in my underwear surely you can play naked."
"I think it's only fair that you play naked too."
"You're being childish, Graham. But fine. I have no problem with that." She pulled off the t-shirt and gently pushed him. He scooted over and she joined him on the seat. She found she was trying to cover her breasts with her left hand and arm.
She started playing heart and soul with one finger, "That doesn't count and you aren't completely naked. The underwear goes."
"Fine." She stood up and let her underpants drop to her ankles, then stepped out of them.
When she sat back down, Graham smiled at her wickedly. "This isn't a game, Graham."
"Maybe not, but whatever it is, it just got damn interesting. We could just skip the piano playing bit and get right on with sex . On the bench, across the top, it all sounds good to me."
Now she was flustered and she leaned over trying to reach for the t-shirt, "Forget it, I don't care if you ever play again." Once the t-shirt was found she stood up and slipped it over her head then went back to bed. She threw herself on the bed and turned away from him.
Graham stayed on the bench and watched her. Longing to go to her side and just hold her. But instead he stretched his fingers over the keys and then placed them on the keyboard. He hadn't played in front of someone for a very long time. But in private he was finding it easier to play a piece or two. If he was going to do this, he would do it for her. When his fingers finally began to glide across the keys, he played a lovely Bach minuet.
Hannah sat up, and was amazed at what she saw. Although the piece was fairly simple it had everything Hannah was lacking that morning. Life, passion. His demeanor at the keyboard was hypnotizing. It was where he belonged and she found herself drawn to him in a way that hadn't presented itself before. She stood up and moved closer to him, walking around the piano so she could see him from every angle. He looked up and smiled at her, pleased by her expression. There was a longing there that he had yet to see in her eyes. When the piece was over, he sat still watching her reaction.
"You should be playing Saturday. Not me."
"I will be playing on Saturday, through you, Hannah."
"Graham, it was beautiful."
"And every piece you play will be beautiful, when you breathe some passion and life into them. It's not hard to do when you feel inspired." He took hold of her hand and she moved closer to him. When he pulled her down to the seat next to him, he took her face into his hands and kissed her with such passion, her body quivered. He didn't let her go and continued the kiss, his tongue sensually exploring the inside of her mouth. When he finally released her, he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand smiling at her. "You're a major distraction, but you inspire the hell out of me."
She smiled awkwardly. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to come back with a response. And what was the response he was looking for?
Graham noticed her uneasiness and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin where this was going. "It's easier for some. You'll find it Hannah. It's there inside you. " He tapped her head, "Could be there", then he moved down to her chest, "Or here. This is quite a common place." He placed his hand on her heart. His eyes looked down as Hannah's hand was gently rubbing her slightly pregnant belly. He moved his hand and placed it over hers, "Now that's one place I didn't think of but it makes total sense."
Hannah felt caught. She wanted these few days to be focused on her playing and Graham, not on the baby. With any mention of the baby came thoughts of Logan. She didn't want to go there. Not now. But that was easier said than done. She knew only one way to get out of this conversation. "What about here?" Slipping her hand away from her belly and then sliding his down her abdomen. Graham's jaw dropped as she placed his hand between her legs.
"Well, sure, there is that possibility." He managed to get out as his fingers found her wetness incredibly inviting.
"Then why are we sitting here babbling?" She took a deep breath and sighed as he wiggled his fingers slightly.
That was all he needed as he stood up and scooped her into his arms, "Hell if I know."
As he placed her on the bed and straddled her, she reached up and stroked his face, "Remember this is for the sake of my art, Graham."
"I've always believed in supporting the arts 100. This will be no exception."
She smiled as she grabbed hold of his hair and pulled him towards her. Graham didn't waste any time.
A pattern had created itself at Graham's loft over the next couple days leading up to the recital. After a night of lovemaking that often found them falling asleep from exhaustion in the wee hours of the morning, Hannah was awake by 9 and ready to play. To his pleasure, Hannah had found her inspiration. There was no stopping her. He found little to criticize and would cook her breakfast or go out for croissants while she practiced. By noon Hannah was ready for a pick me up and she would cajole him into the shower or playfully start a pillow fight that would end up in bed. Graham never expected this to happen so quickly and quite so often, but it was working. Her pieces grew because of their intimacy and her drive for perfection at the keyboard provided a sex life Graham could not have imagined in his wildest dreams a few days before.
There were walks in the village, along the river in the afternoon, then back to practicing. They laughed and talked over a take out dinner before Hannah insisted Graham play for her. He could barely get through the piece before Hannah was dragging him back to bed ready for him to make love to her again. There was no discussion about the baby. Hannah's morning sickness was residing and she looked and felt wonderful. She wasn't sure if her hormones had anything to do with this wild sex life she had created for herself but it felt amazing. The thought of Saturday finally arriving and her routine changing was something she put out of her mind. She was enjoying this way too much. This was her present and for the time being that was all that mattered.
Saturday morning, Graham expected her nerves to kick in but there was no evidence of that. Graham was already up on the phone, dealing with last minute preparations when she finally woke. He continued his conversation but smiled at her and stroked her cheek,
"She has to have a Steinway in the dressing room; I stated that to you months ago." Hannah moved closer to his side and began tracing her finger across his bare chest. He was trying to remain professional but it wasn't easy with her distracting him, "I don't' care about the cost, it will be there when we arrive this afternoon. And I don't want to see a Yamaha or any other rubbish, you got it. A Steinway." He removed Hannah's hand from his chest and tried sitting more erect. "I know the hall has been sold out for months, the demand for tickets for tonight is incredibly high. So by my calculations you can adhere to the rider you've been provided with or my artist will not play." Hannah had moved away from his chest and now proceeded to kiss his neck moving slowing towards his earlobe, her left hand slid under the covers to his thigh. Graham could hardly contain himself. Flustered he shouted into the phone, "Those are my final words, Mr. Ruebens. I'll see the Steinway in her dressing room this afternoon." He closed his cell phone, throwing it down on the end of the bed, and then took Hannah's face in both of his hands bringing it within inches of his own.
"That young lady, was a wicked thing to do when I'm conducting business."
He could hardly keep a straight face as she now had her hand on his penis. "This is much more important business and I don't know why you bother with the Steinway, I'm not bothered. You make me sound like a diva."
"Well,"
"I am not a diva, Graham Eastborne." She removed her hand and turned her back towards him in a humph.
He curled up against her back, wrapping his arms around her, kissing the back of her neck, "I just want them to know who they are dealing with. We're not some amateurs. You deserve the damn Steinway."
She slowly turned towards him, "And I will have the damn Steinway." She smiled at him tracing her finger across his lips, "But right now all I want is you."
"I have a million and one things to do, and Francine is coming to do your hair and makeup at 11." She let out a sigh and then put on a pout. He smiled as he leaned in to kiss her lips tenderly, "You can have me anytime you want, you know that."
"But not today."
"I didn't say that." The phone rang and he reached for it then sat up, stroking her hair as he spoke into the phone.
"Yes, this is Mr. Eastborne." He listened contently as he twisted strands of her hair through his fingers. "That's wonderful." He smiled tenderly at her as the caller continued speaking, "I can't thank you enough for putting a rush on this for me. I know I didn't give you much notice." He leaned over and kissed her cheek, "Well, that is very kind of you, Mr. Findlay. I'll be there in the hour. Goodbye." He flipped the cell phone shut, setting it on the bedside table then refocused on Hannah.
"Who was that?" She questioned as his face drew closer to hers.
"Never you mind" His lips gently brushed against hers as one hand fondled a breast tenderly. She let out a content sigh and he smiled down at her, "I suppose I could spare a half hour."
"I don't know if I like that you're running off on some secret mission."
He began kissing her neck and then moved down to her chest, a finger circling a nipple enticingly. He looked up surprised, his fingers still stimulating and causing a gasp to escape her lips at varying intervals, "So you don't want me now? I can stop. I have plenty to do. And an extra practice couldn't do you any harm." Removing his hand, he began to sit up.
She grabbed his wrist tightly, "Stop? How could you think about stopping?"
He smiled triumphantly, "So you want me now?"
She looked seriously up at him, "You know what I want."
For a brief second, Logan came to mind. Wasn't that who she really wanted? It never seemed to go away. Graham knew he had major insecurities concerning this mysterious man. It was hard not to. The woman he loved was carrying this man's child. That wasn't going away. And any mention of the baby seemed to stir something inside her. Curiously enough the past few days' sexual escapades had all begun at the mention of the baby and her avoiding the subject. He couldn't put that out of his mind.
Hannah moved closer to him, her face inches from his own, running her hand through his hair "I can't believe you have to seriously think about what I want, Graham?" He snapped out of his daze and smiled awkwardly. Hannah wisped a strand of hair off his forehead, "You look incredibly serious. I think you are the one that is nervous about this evening."
Thank goodness she misread him; he relaxed back onto the pillow pulling her on top of him, "Possibly." He kissed her gently on the lips.
"Well, we better do something about that. I will take that half hour, Graham Eastborne, and you will walk out of here an anxiety free man." Her hands and lips didn't waste anytime. Moving sensually across his body, thoughts of Logan soon dissolved and gave over to the passion burning inside him.
Back in Madripor….
Logan paced the small balcony looking over the city shouting into the phone, "Wildflowers. Yeah, that is what I said. Canadian Wildflowers. I don't want your high falooting roses, lilies or the like. Basic, simple wildflowers. And specifically from Canada. What don't you understand, bub?"
It was obvious he didn't like the response he was getting on the other end. "Money is no object here. I told you that. Just take care of it. I want them in the dressing room by 7pm tonight. Miller Theater Columbia University, New York." There was a slight pause, and then he burst out, "I don't care if you have to go to bloody Canada and pick them yourself. Just do it. You got my credit card; I don't care about the cost." He slammed the phone shut just as Amiko appeared at the sliding door.
She was about to speak when he pointed a finger at her, "It's nothing. Don't you go making a big deal about it. I just figured it was the proper thing to do. She'd expect it wouldn't she being from her background. Flowers and the like."
"Roses might have been simpler. Do you think they can find Canadian Wildflowers in New York City?"
It was amazing Amiko would even know such a thing but she wasn't like most children her age. She picked up on everything from the adults around her. Often Logan wondered it he had messed up taking her under his wing instead of giving her to authorities where the possibility of a normal family existence might have taken place. But he had promised her mother and they had bonded right away. For the most part there were no regrets. But right now he didn't need another opinion on the subject, "Not you to. Damn it. Anybody can get a dozen red roses. Absolutely no thought to that."
Amiko smiled, " Are they special flowers that mean something to both of you? I mean, she'll see them and right away know they are from you without reading a card. That is really romantic."
"There is nothing romantic about it whatsoever. It's her special night and hell, the whole bloody room will be full of roses, just thought she might like something different. I'm unconventional that way." He was feeling uncomfortable and began fidgeting. "I need to get out of here. I'll take you down to that funfair you were bugging me about last week."
"Really? Will you ride the carousel with me?" Her face lit up and it was nice seeing the child that she was shine through.
"Don't push your luck on that one, darlin'. I'm agreeing on just going that should be plenty." She skipped over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Any sign of affection such as this was always somewhat awkward for him. "Get yourself ready, kiddo. I might change my mind. Hurry up now."
Amiko was used to these kinds of responses whenever she hugged him. She smiled up at him and he managed a smile as she ran back into the house.
Logan picked up the cigar balancing on the edge of the patio table. Taking a puff he thought about the flowers arriving in Hannah's dressing room. He'd never done anything like this and what would they actually mean to her if they did get there. After the heated phone call with the Manhattan flower shop he wasn't so sure they'd show up but Amiko was right, they would stick out and Hannah would know right away they were from him. How would she take it, a reminder of him after months of his being silent? He reopened his phone, now thinking it was a bad idea. He should cancel the damn flowers but the thought of facing that dimwit on the other end of the line was not a pleasant thought. He closed the phone and looked out onto the city taking another puff of the cigar. Ah, what the hell. It was done. Whether she was messing about with that piano player or not, Logan wanted to know he was thinking about her.