Chapter 18
Through the Looking Glass
Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place.
If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!
~The Red Queen
Location: A Hotel in London
Arlo reclined on the cramped little bed in his hotel room. Turning the volume down on the tele, the Italian placed a call to his employer.
"I need to speak to Il Capo." He demanded politely.
After a few minutes of waiting, a low and disgruntled male voice echoed over the line.
"Yes." The man greeted in a patronizing tone.
"I'm sorry to disturb you so close to the holidays, but I tracked Mr. Doyle to London, Signore."
"And?"
Arlo felt confident that he was on to something. This was a distinct departure from Doyle's highly reclusive routine, but the disparaging way his Boss treated the information caste a momentary doubt into his mind. The Italian rapidly explained the circumstances to his boss of how he had traced the slippery fellow to London; then the trail ran cold until an informant contacted him with a sighting. Intel had placed Doyle in Belfast that very evening, so what the hell was he doing in London-at a very public venue, with a mistress that none of Arlo's associates could identify and link to the notorious weapons dealer…yet?
"Doyle is bedding yet another woman. So what? His way with women is admirable."
There was a disinterested pause as Arlo's boss shifted through papers.
"It seems out of the norm for him and this one's a bit too bright for the part… eh, even if she's a bit spoiled." Arlo noted in a heavy Sardinian accent.
"Probably a spy then." His boss offered casually. "God knows that we're not the only organization trailing him."
He had successfully tagged most associates affiliated with Doyle who had even the slightest ties to the Mossad, the CIA, Scotland Yard, and the ISA. A few he'd purposely burned as a favor to gain the man's favor. Il Capo had narrowed down the allusive criminal to two possible identities: one, he had no desire to deal with while the other possibility proved intriguing and piqued the game-player's interest. Arlo continued on as an unimpressed sigh filtered over the line. "This one is petite, elegant, and beautiful…"
"Aren't they all?" The thick European accent devoid of any emotion replied over the line.
"A blond with long flowing hair and striking blue-green eyes."
A sudden air of interest invaded the otherwise fruitless conversation.
"An American?"
"No, French."
"Hmmm." The mysterious stranger mused. "Put a line out on her and let me know what turns up."
Arlo hesitated.
"What?" He barked impatiently.
"I lost them, Signore."
"Then, why are you wasting my time with this?" The man's trademark sinister fury seeped into the conversation, which made Arlo extremely nervous. "And, NOW your incompetence has tipped him off to our distrust, so I can expect him to retaliate accordingly."
The Continental man gripped the phone tightly irritated that a six-figure salary produced nothing more than idle gossip from the black market.
"Il capo, sono spiacente!"
"Don't apologize! Just clean up the mess you've made or I'll give you a reason to be sorry!" The stranger seethed over the line and slammed the phone down to punctuate his intent.
Location: The Ballroom at Donovan Manor
A burst of flames rose high into the shaft of the fireplace when the alcohol splattered against the burning logs before the weight of the tension suffocated it beneath the accumulating ash. Shane paused briefly surveying the scene, then abandoned his station along the bar. He briskly exited the room and headed towards the study leaving the mess for morning.
The frozen precipitation had subsided leaving the landscape glistening white. A strange calm enveloped Shane's study as he entered from the side door of the library. Purposefully he strolled over towards the old mahogany desk-a bluish haze filtering in through the frozen panes of the floor-to-ceiling window. The effect cold and desolate, Shane switched on the small Tiffany lamp to provide some warmth for the room and picked up the phone. Dialing a number, the spy cradled it on his right shoulder.
"Donovan." He announced firmly.
Shane's eyes darted towards the chess set situated in the corner of the room by the window. A professional but familiar voice greeted him as he strolled around the desk and moved the black Rook swiping his opponent's Queen.
"I need you to deliver a message for me." Shane instructed over the phone.
His acquaintance understood the meaning setting the wheels in motion. A short pause as the spy flicked his wrist to gaze at his watch.
12:05 a.m.
It was officially Christmas Eve.
"Midnight tonight… their time." Shane ordered when asked.
His eyes studied the clean crisp lines created from the subtle snowdrifts along the stone perimeters of the formal garden in the back of the estate. Satisfied with his course of action, he finished the call and slowly retreated upstairs to his room. Passing her door to his right, Shane paused momentarily letting his fingers glide along the door panel. A fleeting sensation of her soft, smooth, bare curves pressed against him between the cream-colored silk sheets elicited the urge to enter…
Turning abruptly, he continued across the hall to his room as he yanked off his tie in frustration. Kicking his Italian leather shoes to the side, he discarded the stifling suit for more suitable clothing. The room was cool and drafty, so Shane slid beneath the goose-down bedding and rested his arms behind his neck. Sleep seemed so far away from the spy at the moment. Kimberly's voice echoed around the room.
"Emma."
Insanely ironic that she would mention Emma when this was the room they had shared when they first married. Yet, Shane felt detached from the memories that lingered within these walls as though he were an observer to another man's life. His advise to Kimberly had been spot on: time HAD taken care of things between him and Emma. Strange how deeply he had mourned her, yet when she reemerged years later, the feeling hadn't been as he had hoped. Most assuredly, Shane's new found love with Kimberly played its role, but as time passed, Shane began to see that the Dragon's actions merely sped up the inevitable between the two. Barely out of their teens, Shane and Emma were united by the thread of English Upper Class tradition and little else. Yes, he loved her, but in a way that only a young lad could give due to youthful inexperience. Emma's wholehearted and unmerited devotion to her betrothed certainly made things easier. However, the early marriage had restrained young Donovan into a life drawn from his parents' accomplishments and social standing. Duty and responsibility hoisted onto his shoulders at a time when a man yearned to carve his own way in life…
Donovan Manor, a few months after Shane & Emma's wedding.
"Shane, just one more?" Emma asked with a slight pout. "For me?"
Her pretty green eyes gazed up at him for an answer and when Shane didn't respond quickly enough, she employed her newest weapon against the young man—sex.
"You're an insatiable one." Shane replied with a smile exposing his dimples, as he maneuvered Emma's hands away from the buttons of his dress shirt. While her eagerness to please her husband thrilled Shane, Emma's manipulative streak unnerved him.
"Next time, just come out with it, darling."
Emma batted her lashes apologetically. "I will. I promise."
She threw her arms around his neck kissing him generously. Picking up her brush, Shane pulled his wife close to him on the window-seat of their bedroom and began to brush her long blonde hair as Emma explained the details to him. Barely home a week, and already the confines of British society closed in on the young man. The more Emma discussed who and what the cause was about, the more suffocated Shane felt. Perhaps, if his young bride found something worthy to champion other than a vague conservation project one of her relatives decided to attach their name to in order to appear more "respectable." Shane recalled his mother's disparaging remarks regarding these types of affairs. Once at an obligatory charitable event hosted on the back lawn at Donovan Manor,
"Son, if you love me, you'll never waste so much as a shilling on fashioning a building or other useless piece of rock in my honor." Jeannie Margaret Donovan whispered softly into her teenage son's ear. The Donovan Matriarch had no patience for those who squandered their wealth on trivial pursuits instead of investing in those less fortunate. She had taken her Catholic upbringing to heart and held firmly to the notion that "to much is given, much is expected." It was a quality Shane admired about his mother—her heart for people, especially children in need.
In stark contrast, Emma prattled on about some matter regarding beautification of a government building. The pretentiousness of the situation depressed him and so to pass the time, Shane's thoughts wondered to other places. Selectively hearing bits of Emma's grave commentary, the young spy laughed out loud despite himself.
"Shane!" Emma scolded. "It's. NOT. funny." His pretty wife was clearly offended by his outburst.
"Ssshhh, ssshhh…" He cajoled her, but, " God help him, if this were to be his crowning achievement in life: riding the wave of the upper-tier of the English Society circuit!"
In hindsight, Shane recognized how very early on his simmering resentment over the arrangement effected his decision to join the ISA when Nickerson approached him. Thus, with or without Kimberly's presence, Emma's reemergence into Shane's life would have ultimately led to the same painful conclusion for the married couple.
As Shane lie awake pondering this, a bitter realization slowly presented itself to him. The ISA had been a ticket to freedom for the spy in his youth— a glimmer of hope for a world outside from what had been dictated to him. How ingenious that the organization manipulated Donovan into a bondage that no marriage could have imitated! Resentment crept into his heart at the thought. "To hell with the rest of the world!" The spy grumbled silently.
"Kim," Shane lamented.
Nestled protectively underneath the silky cream sheets, Shane held her in the crook of his left arm, rhythmically stroking her hair. Their free hands rested on his chest mimicking the bond that had been solidified between them— fierce, fervent, and unbreakable.
"Happy?" He asked kissing her head lovingly. Their eyes remained fixated on their fingers, intertwined and barely indistinguishable where his ended and hers began.
"Oh, I'm happier than I think I've ever been, Shane." She replied dreamily. "What about you?"
"Oh," He exhaled contently. "Very, very happy."
And to punctuate the depth of his feelings, he turned his head to meet her expectant eyes.
"I do love you, Shane Donovan…" Her sensuous lips peppered him with kisses along his bare-chest as the two lingered in the ecstasy of their lovemaking.
"It certainly took you a long time to say it,"
"Mmm, well I wanted you to be the first to say…" She murmured as her lips continued to search him. She paused briefly to gauge his reaction, but he didn't make her wait long. Still stroking her hair, he smiled—pleased with himself.
"I'm rather glad I did." Taking her hand to his lips, he gingerly kissed her fingertips.
"I love you, Kimberly." He whispered as they soaked in the euphoria of the moment… ~April 26, 1985.
Shane irritably tossed himself to his right grabbing an extra pillow to latch onto. Pushing back the excruciating truth, Shane focused once again on the task at hand. The spy exhaled slowly. Letting the case drive his thoughts, Shane pondered his adversary's next move once he received his Christmas present from the fickle weapon's dealer. Ingenious really…Shane's showmanship would solidify his cover and direct the attention of Arlo's boss to something other than who Doyle preferred to fraternize with on his downtime. The issue settled in his mind, Shane methodically adjusted his breathing and slowly drifted into a deep sleep.
Meanwhile in the master bedroom across the hall, Kimberly lay wide-awake wrestling with the revelations from their evening together. She had entered the bedroom seeking solace from their tumultuous exchange, but ran right into their past love affair! Kimberly shut the door and leaned against it. A rush of sensations inundated the senses as flashes of their lovemaking invaded her memory. Up until now, Kim gave little thought to the odd sleeping arrangements but now the wicked irony taunted her.
She stood at the foot of the bed clinging to the wooden post recovering from the impact of hearing Shane's declaration of love for her…
"I know how that sounds." He acknowledged gently placing his hands on her bare shoulders to reassure her. "Here we are about to make love…"
Shaking his head in disbelief regarding his reluctance in confessing his feelings for her.
"And I finally tell you what I should have told you ages ago."
Placing his fingers gingerly on Kim's parted lips, he lovingly traced them. Her enraptured expression encouraged him to press on.
"When I saw you standing in my doorway," He took her face into both hands, "I just felt such joy," Shane inhaled excitedly and talked fast as Kim slowly shook her head in incredulous awe. His eyes illuminated a fiery flame of passion.
"I wanted to graab you in my arms and tell you right then!"
Kimberly delicately pressed her hands against his chest thwarting anymore advances and protested her past until he vehemently shook his head exclaiming,
"Forget about the past! It's over! It's done!"
Sliding his hands around her face to cradle it,
"It's just us. Just the future… I never want to let you go…" ~ April 26, 1985
The desire present in his eyes earlier in the ballroom mingled with the memory leaving an imprint on her soul; she yearned for his touch. Scurrying into the adjoining bathroom to her left, she hastily dressed for bed. A splash of cold water against her face did little to quell the burning stirring within her heart.
"Stop it, Kimberly!" She sternly admonished as she glared at her reflection in the mirror. Reliving the past was futile and only made the wounds fester. "Avoid destructive behaviors and focus on the present." She reprimanded to herself. However, Shane's words echoed around the room as she guiltily slipped into the four-poster bed.
"That's a bloody lie and you know it!"
Drawing the covers snuggly towards her, the sharp, shimmering cut of the diamond drew her attention. Like a flashlight-wielding cop, it condemned Kimberly for her secret desire and reminded her of Philip. Instead of counting sheep, she struggled to remember those early days with her fiancé. Surely they shared something special since she had allowed Philip to be so close to the children? Andrew and Jeannie adored their prospective stepfather! Dr. Allison had assured Kim that small gaps in memory were normal and would return as they progressed, but it bothered Kimberly that so much of that spring before their engagement still alluded her? Things would be much simpler for her if she was alone, but she had created enough upheaval in their lives. The thought of another failed relationship tormented her when by all standards; Philip was a safe emotional investment. "Or was he?" A tiny bell signaled deep within her heart.
Staring at the ceiling, Kimberly methodically twisted her engagement ring around her finger… left, to right, right to left as the evening mingled between distant memories from the past.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Kimberly focused on that first day…the gulls looming overhead, the sound of the waves. One of the audio member's radios pumped out the latest music from the alternative scene; a genre Kimberly wasn't familiar with. The heavy drum beat and low grunting voices were too harsh for her tastes…
She could see Philip now.
The well-built man stood a few feet away from her dressed in a form-fitted pale blue polo shirt and kaki shorts. His long golden blonde locks tucked underneath his navy blue cap and a black Sharpie stuffed behind his ear, Philip Collier was the polar opposite of the kind of man that piqued Kimberly's interest.
Trying to mend her broken heart and recover from the humiliating last year, Kimberly had spent the past two months in LA avoiding any and all advances from the opposite sex. News from Salem had done little to make the transition less painful. Instead, she focused on work at the Child Abuse Clinic and parenting her two small children. It was an isolating existence, but it was safe and comfortable in Kim's eyes.
Now, the rising star of the Hollywood crowd lowered his shades in order to make eye contact with the pretty stranger who had stumbled onto his beachfront set unexpectedly. Flirting shamelessly with Kimberly, the movie producer's translucent blue eyes captivated her throwing her completely off-guard!
"So when do we see each other again?" Collier audaciously asked.
"Uh,… um…"
Flustered Kimberly stuttered and stumbled trying to figure out a way to let him down gently, but his kind eyes broke her resolve. The charming producer flashed Kimberly his winning smile as she surveyed Philip's physique and demeanor. The man looked like he could grace the cover of the latest surfer magazine, not engage in lengthy conversations regarding fatalism in British Lit over a cup of tea! The irony amused her and when a girlish giggle escaped Kimberly's lips, Philip mistook it for encouragement of his advances.
"Then, how on earth do I repay you for your help today?" He gushed flirtatiously.
"Oh! Nnnnoooo…" Kimberly waved him off as she gathered the beach bag and ushered Andrew and Jeannie to the car. "It isn't necessary. I really shouldn't have interjected myself into your project."
Philip followed closely behind abandoning his crew to help Kimberly strap Jeannie into her car seat. He was determined to retrieve the lady's digits.
"But I'm glad you did." His voice oozed a healthy mixture of confidence and genuine interest as Philip requested Kim's number. "Your boy like to fish?"
"Oh, momma could we?" Andrew piped up as Kimberly narrowed her eyes disapprovingly. The boy missed his father terribly and the effects of the distance were beginning to show.
Kimberly threw her attention back to Philip and tried to explain, but he cut her off.
"You know you're forcing me to walk aaall the way back there," He gestured towards the crew with a sheepish grin. "And face those jokers defeated."
"I don't have anything…" She attempted feebly.
Philip removed his cap and handed her the Sharpie.
"Sign here." He instructed with a wide grin.
It was infectious.
But Kimberly doubted anything could evolve from this. It was clear that the two shared little in common… but there was something very appealing about that fact. If Kimberly were to accept his offer at least she wouldn't see him each time she gazed at Mr. Collier.
Signing the cap, she passed it back as Philip suggested,
"You like motorcycles?"
Kimberly smiled faintly and bit her lip.
"Heavens no!" Her mind screamed.
But to Philip,
"I might be willing to learn." She replied coyly with a twinkle in her eye.
How refreshing it would be to become absorbed in someone else's world for a while! Kimberly sighed as she convinced herself. "Yes, this is perfect. He isn't him…"~ March 1992.
The blue-stained ball cap with Kimberly's phone number and signature presently set on the mantle of Philip's study in Malibu in a commemorative glass case for all to see. Kimberly remembered him boasting of his luck of finding her when entertaining guests at his place. The memory induced another vague recollection of Philip singing that old Harry Nilsson number: she put the lime in the coconut…
Impulsively Kimberly reached for the phone and dialed his number.
After the third ring,
"Hello?" A groggy voice floated over the line.
"Heeey," Kim cooed. "Did I wake you?"
She leaned back against the pillows and pulled her legs protectively up against her chest while they talked.
"You okay, babe?" Philip inquired glancing at the clock and hearing the unease in Kim's voice.
"Yes, yes." She assured him emphatically. "I just miss you, that's all. It's Christmas Eve."
"I know. I miss you too." And he meant it.
Philip stretched and rubbed his brow. Across the room, the obnoxious snore of his business manager reverberated throughout the drafty hotel room. Snowflakes descended steadily from the blacken sky. He proceeded to tell Kim about trials of his day with Stu, which she eagerly listened to in a desperate attempt to create distance from her time with Shane.
"…So with nothing opened, we've raided the mini-bar." Philip was saying as he pinched his brow. " I shudder to know what the bill will look like once production wraps up."
"There goes your profit, eh?" Kimberly smirked relieved to talk about nothing, but the feeling was fleeting. Soon there was literally nothing left to say.
"Philip, I…" Kimberly began after a few minutes of idle silence.
Sensing what his fiancé was about to reveal, Philip interjected,
"You know, Babe. This is probably the worst Christmas that I have spent in a long time, but I think it's been good for me…"
Kimberly's eyes shot open. "Oh?"
"Yes." He answered vigorously as he maneuvered out into the hall for privacy. Stu's insufferable snoring was grating on Philip's last nerve. "I've been thinking about all the fun we've had together..."
"Huh, me too." Kimberly interrupted absentmindedly. Though admittedly, she couldn't quite remember the last time it truly felt fun and carefree with her fiancé? Her eyes fluttered around the room as the events from her date with Shane punctuated the sharp contrast between the two.
"Remember that time we drove out to that bar off the 101- a real hole in the wall…" Philip was reminiscing as Kim's mind worked on a hazy memory.
"I remember you serenading me with that annoying song from my childhood as you cooked me dinner."
Philip howled at the memory. "What, you don't like my singing?"
"Oh, but I do!" She laughed light-heartedly, "I simply enjoyed the meal much more than your choice of theme music."
"Those were good times." Philip noted affectionately.
His genuine tone caused a swell of conflicting emotions within Kim's heart. Things had been easier and fun with him at one time. Perhaps, they could have that again? Clearing her throat, "Philip, is there something on your mind?"
Philip allowed the question to hang in the air for a few seconds and then sighed,
"Kimmie, this time apart has proven one thing to me..."
"Yes?"
"That our relationship is in limbo and I think that's what's really affecting…"
He allowed his words to fall away leaving the obvious implication to flow between them over the line. "It's simply not fair to either of us." Philip added pragmatically.
Kimberly inhaled deeply. "I agree."
Once again, she felt like a complete fool having invested so much into yet another man. And once again, Shane had been correct with his accusation from in the ballroom below. The thought irritated her.
Resigned to what was about to take place even if the timing was way off, Kimberly reasoned that there were worse things in life than ending a relationship over the phone on Christmas Eve. She stroked the silky sheets pondering life without him and an air of relief flooded Kim's soul. She was so much more comfortable with isolation than expectations a relationship demanded of her. Her thoughts racing back and forth, Kimberly missed Philip pleading his case for their "love" until he bombarded her with a proposition.
"So are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He inquired eagerly. The lilt in Philip's voice confused Kimberly.
"Well," She murmured, but before offering an opinion,
"Let's set a date!" He declared passionately.
The words played over the line like an out of tune chord leaving Kimberly utterly stunned. Philip proceeded without a response, assuring her that solidifying their commitment would create a "safe environment" for her and that "things" would flow from there naturally. Apparently this included him scaling back with his work and blending their two homes, so the children would have a unified family. No more shuffling back and forth! The movie producer described exactly what she wished… just not with him. When he finished his closing argument, silence filled the room. She had forgotten how easy it was to be swept away by the producer's pitch when he was sold on an idea. Ignoring the gentle tapping on her heart,
"Okay?"
Came a meek reply that didn't even resonate as her voice, but Philip's exuberant demeanor compensated for the lack of warmth emanating between them.
"How about May?"
"March!" She replied sharply still dazed by what was taking place. The sooner she cut ties with her past permanently, the better.
"Wonderful!" Philip exclaimed clapping his hands with delight. "This is the best Christmas present you could have given me. I'll start making arrangements for Lake Tahoe."
What had just transpired flung Kimberly into a dream-like haze with Philip completely oblivious to it.
"Love you, babe!" He gushed as they ended the call-never realizing that she didn't return the enthusiastic declaration.
Letting the phone slip out of her hand and onto the base, Kimberly fell back into the bed. She sunk into a deep sleep as though she had taken the red pill and tumbled down the rabbit hole; lost in a web of truth and distortions.
The dream appeared hazy at first as laughter from old friends mingled with the sounds of champagne being poured into crystal flutes wafted overhead. Kimberly struggled to acclimate to the darkness and stumbled into a seat— the plush one at the symphony. The thick velvety red curtain had not lifted yet. The air was dark and oppressive. She still couldn't see, but something deep in her heart told Kimberly that she didn't want to. Why was it so cold? Clasping her breast, she discovered that she wore nothing but her pink negligee from so long ago. Anxiety filled her soul until she felt the gentle touch of a familiar friend to her left take her hand. She desperately sought his steady, encouraging gaze, but a blanket of black hid him from view. Darkness shrouded everything, so that Kimberly had to trust whoever sat next to her. The stranger seemed kind and trustworthy. After a few seconds of silence…
"Turn around and open your eyes, Kimberly." Her companion instructed.
The curtain lifted slightly as Philip's baritone voice jovially sang in the background of her memory,
"She put the lime in the coconut and drank them all up…"
"I can't do this!" Kimberly whispered frantically.
"Yes, yes, you can." The soothing male voice replied.
Tiny beams of light appeared from beneath the curtain. The stage floor wasn't polished wood, but expensive ceramic. Kimberly recognized the tile. It was Philip's study in Malibu. She stepped into the narrow alcove that divided the kitchen and the side staircase. The roar of the ocean smacked against the shore serving as a warning. Twisting the handle on the door, she rushed inside—her red sling-back heel getting caught on the charcoal grey shag rug. Tripping forward, she grabbed the desk for support sending Philip's papers scattering to the floor! Kimberly lifted her eyes to see the painting hanging on the wall behind his desk.
A shiver ran down her spine!
Morphing out of the abstract blue monochromatic nude figure a wide toothy grin emerged taunting Kim with her past. Suddenly something invaded Kim's line of vision to the right. She smelled citrus and could hear the slow folksy strings accompanying the annoying little jingle…
" She called the doctor, woke him up, and said
Doctor, ain't there nothing I can take
Doctor…"
"Just retrieve the lime and leave." She reminded herself.
The curtain crept up once more.
There was movement in the room. Was she not alone?
Kimberly's heart sank as she squeezed her eyes shut, yet the stranger refused to let go of her hand. His lips grazed her left ear this time. She leaned in longing for what he promised. It was inviting —the warmth of his breathe against her neck as he whispered huskily,
"Don't be afraid… to open your eyes…"
Aroused, she blinked away the fear.
Her heart pounded between her ears.
"Maybe he's right." She muttered. "Maybe he's right. Maybe, … he's right."
Christmas Eve, Mid-morning
Gasping for air, Kimberly eyes flew open! She tightly clutched the blanket, her knuckles white from their deathly grip. Searching her mind, Kimberly tried to decipher the riddle that was her dream. Yes, she attended the symphony last night, but Philip's in Berlin? Did they speak last night? Who was talking to her? Sitting up in bed, she surveyed her surroundings, but felt flushed. Collapsing back into the bed, she turned her head towards the window. A heavenly light poured freely into the room erasing the doubt and haunting shadows that prevailed in the night. Realizing the late hour, Kimberly assumed that Shane had already left with the children for the morning sleigh-ride with the neighboring family from his youth. Begrudgingly pulling her body out of bed, Kim ached from fatigue. It was as though she had literally run through time from the night before instead of experiencing a fanciful dream. Entering into the kitchen, she found Simmons sweeping remnants of glass into the trash.
"Just cleaning up the mess from the ballroom." He offered when she gave him a perplexed look. Kimberly stumbled towards the coffeemaker to retrieve some brew feeling the emotional hangover from the night before. Clearing her throat,
"Simmons, is there another room available in the family-wing?" She asked trying to sound nonchalantly.
"No ma'am. Five rooms in the family wing, five in the visitors'." The butler replied as he returned the brush and pan into the pantry by the corner. "Lavin…"
Kim arched her brow catching his departure from formal protocol. Simmons cleared his throat and started over.
"Ms. Peach is in the room beside you, but she'll be back tomorrow."
Peachy had departed early to reach Edinburgh at a decent time. She would spend Christmas Eve with her own family and return to Donovan Manor later the next day to spend with her adopted one which left Kimberly alone to maintain pretenses with Shane. At the thought of him, the sound of the front door opening and closing filtered from down the hall as the trio returned from their holiday ride. There was little time to adjust her mask.
The children entered the kitchen first, clamoring for a warm beverage and an early lunch.
"Let's eat and then we can bake cookies for Santa!" Kimberly offered cheerfully avoiding Shane's penetrating stare.
The afternoon activities provided the perfect buffer between the two as they engaged in last minute holiday preparations, attended evening Mass, and returned to settle the children for the night. Unbeknownst to the reluctant couple, Simmons had slipped into the family room while they were out and placed a fresh batch of mistletoe tied together in a shimmering crimson ribbon above the window next to the Christmas tree. After dinner and baths, Shane reclined in his father's old leather upright by the fire as Andrew disappeared into the library to retrieve their favorite Christmas poem to read before bed. Jeannie snuggled securely in her father's lap dressed in her special pink Christmas gown and robe that she had opened shortly before. Kimberly was also dressed for bed in a pair of silk burgundy pajamas and plush robe that the children insisted she open that evening. Choosing a spot at the end of the couch across from them, Kimberly tucked her feet under her—just a few feet away to observe the merry scene. When Andrew returned, he picked the ottoman as his perch being "too old to sit in his father's lap." The declaration pierced Shane's heart prompting Kimberly to give him a compassionate, but encouraging look as he began,
"Twas the night before Christmas…"
The boy rested his chin on the arm of the chair; his thick hair easy to stroke when his father outstretched his arms. With wide-eyed excitement,
"And aaaalll through the house…"
Instinctively Kimberly leaned back and quietly grabbed her camera, which set on the table behind the couch where she had left it earlier from their little gift exchange by the tree. Shane continued on with both children gazing adoringly up at him. His smooth low voice—just above a whisper lulled them into the familiar tale as Kimberly peered into the lens to snap a shot. The camera provided a safe portal for viewing and allowed Kimberly to safely indulge her fantasies. Bringing the subjects into focus, the doting mother waited for the right moment. The image couldn't have been any clearer. The fire flickered behind them. The white Christmas tree lights twinkled against the velvety fabric of the stockings. When Shane flipped the page, Jeannie impulsively pointed to the picture in the book as Andrew looked on. Kimberly smiled contently.
CLICK!
Absorbed in the recitation, Shane kept reading. His voice rose and fell with each intonation, "Oh Comet, oh Cupid…!"
Andrew and Jeannie's faces lit up as their father commanded the stage; just like Kim had envisioned their Christmas evenings all those years ago when she had told Shane she was expecting. Completely animated by the time the story drew to a close, Shane bellowed enthusiastically,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Giggling, Kimberly automatically depressed the button, snapping the image for posterity.
CLICK!
His eyes lifted just in time to gaze directly into the camera…and straight into her eyes. The intensity of his expression stole her breath. Slowly she pulled the camera down into her lap. Too excited to sleep, Andrew and Jeannie clamored for another story as they tugged on their father's shirt for attention. His eyes lingering on Kimberly, Shane addressed them.
"Ah, but it's getting late." He coaxed them. "Run into the kitchen and get the cookies you made with your mum to leave for Santa."
Andrew and Jeannie scurried off as Kimberly rose and headed for solace by the window. A few flurries created a peaceful backdrop against the merriment of the evening. Nary, a word had been spoken between the two since their fiery and passionate altercation from the previous evening. Left alone, they attempted to create a safe buffer between them in the spirit of the season.
"Look, Shane!" Kimberly offered lightly as she peered out the window. " Are those deer tracks in the snow?"
He strolled over, his eyes following her line of sight. Sliding his hands in his pockets, Shane surveyed the snowy landscape. "Yes, yes you're right." He noted pensively.
"THAT close to the house?" She replied incredulously as they stood together absorbing the calming scene.
Suddenly he placed his right hand on Kim's back steadying her as he pointed ahead.
"Look Kim! Right there!" He exclaimed. Kimberly leaned with her nose almost touching the glass. "Just over the wading pool and behind the shrub."
In the concealment of a winter's evening, two Red Deer meandered along the pine shrubbery of the formal garden. Shane pressed his body into Kim to get a better view. Foraging for food, the deer were spooked when Shane's knuckles accidentally tapped the window. Abruptly they disappeared into the night leaving behind a zigzag of tracks in the snow.
"We should tell the children that we just saw Santa's reindeer." Shane quipped.
Kimberly laughed at the thought and started to retreat from the window by pivoting to her left before Shane could step back. Once again, the two were locked in almost an embrace.
"Are you going to kiss mom?" Andrew chirped casually as he entered the room with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. Jeannie trailed behind skipping along with a carrot dangling in her little hand.
"Andrew!" Kimberly exclaimed awkwardly as they both gazed at their children who didn't seem to be bothered by their parents' intimate exchange. The two busily arranged their treats for the evening's visitors on the table behind the couch.
The red ribbon catching his eye, Shane looked above and coughed. Kim's eyes had traveled along with his.
"I don't believe this." She muttered skeptically dropping her head for protection.
"I had no idea, promise." He offered emphatically raising his right hand in "Scout's Honor" formation. Andrew shrugged his shoulders but didn't turn to address either parent as he explained pragmatically.
"I saw Grandpa kiss Grandma last year under the mistletoe and he said it brings good luck the whooole year long!"
"Reeeally?" Jeannie chimed in as though a pot of gold might appear if her parents complied.
"That's so very true son." Shane noted nostalgically locking eyes with Kim, who knew exactly where his mind traveled.
Kimberly hastily averted her eyes. Instead, she ran smack into the wonderfully innocent and hopeful gaze of their daughter. It was apparent to the rest that the little three-year old took the holiday tradition seriously even if Jeannie had no clue of its significance. By this time, both children had eyes on them, so Kimberly tilted her chin up and looked him squarely in the eye.
"Well, I wouldn't want to go spoiling tradition." She attempted to proclaim in her best imitation of her father, but Shane towered confidently over her, so the words escaped her lips more timid than she'd plan.
Shane smiled faintly.
Placing his hands gently on Kim's shoulders to steady her, he paused. Kimberly looked absolutely stunning to him. Her bright eyes, which appeared greener at the moment given the proximity to the lights twinkling on the tree, illuminated her soft peaches and cream complexion. Her hair loosely pinned back with various strands of soft flowing tendrils cascaded around her face. Her face slightly flushed with anticipation, Kimberly swore he could hear her heart pounding beneath her breast. She cursed him for putting her on the spot in front of their children.
Impulsively Shane slid his hands around her face, his thumb delicately tracing her bottom lip. His eyes simmered with desire, yet Shane possessed an air of control as he leaned closer to her.
His lips parted.
His breath caressing her face, Kim closed her eyes ready to respond…