Chapter 16, yay!
Oh and to all of you who think this is my storyline, it's not...unfortunately.
It was simply my idea to rewrite her story with a Spashley twist.
Disclaimer: 'Tropical kiss' belongs to Jan Coffey... And South of Nowhere characters belongs to Tom Lynch
Thank you for all of Chapter 15 rviews!
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Spencer figured it would be best all the way around if she just told her father about the development of her and Ash. As usual, he didn't get home until late that night, though, and only poked his head into her room long enough to say he had another last minute day trip that he had to make off the island tomorrow.
He was gone by the time she woke up the next morning.
That was fine with Spencer, though. She had a mission. She needed to find out what was going on.
She glanced out across the courtyard and the guesthouse. No sign of Ash. Spencer knew the other girl would be coming over for breakfast before going to work, so she took a quick shower and got dressed.
After their talk last night, Spencer knew they'd be walking a fine line regarding how physical their relationship would get. She was as tempted as Ash was, but they both wanted to take their time. At least, the blonde did. And that meant no temptations.
Leaving her bedroom, she noticed that the office door was locked. She wasn't discouraged, though, and decided to search Arthur's bedroom.
One thing was certain to Spencer. Paula hadn't divorced Arthur because he was a slob. Everything in the bedroom was immaculate, pretty much like the rest of the house. Of course, she knew some of this ws due to the efforts of their housekeeper, Clotilde. Spencer had met her in passing on Monday and was amazed at the whirlwind of energy the woman was.
Arthur's bedroom was larger than hers. It contained the usual assortment of furniture, bed and side tables, lamps, two bureaus, an oversized reading chair, and an armoire that she guessed housed a television.
She checked the bureaus. One was empty. She turned her attention to the other. Shirts, underwear, socks. She felt around the clothes, looking under the bottoms and at the backs of the drawers, remembering what she'd seen in movies about guns or keys being hidden there.
Nothing.
The double-wide closet was her next target. Rows of suits of jackets and pressed pants and shirts hung tidily on the metal bars. Everything was in its place.
She glanced up at the two rows of shelves above the hanging clothes. Stacked on them were an assortment of suitcases, light sweaters, and a couple of neatly folded blankets. One medium-sized file box sat on the upper shelf, and Spencer fixed her eyes on it. The top of it was slightly askew, like Arthur might have reached in there recently.
She had to see what was in it.
Spencer's fingers could barely reach it. She gently started pulling. The avalanche came without warning.
Following the mysterious box, suitcases, sweaters, blankets-and the shelves they were sitting on- all came crashing down on top of her, knocking her to the floor. Thankfully the box was light, because it hit Spencer squarely on the head before all the contents dumped on the floor around her.
Spencer stared in disbelief at hundreds of airline barf bags on her lap and on the floor.
"Are you okay?"
Startled, Spencer looked up. Ash stood in the doorway of the bedroom dressed for work. "Oh hi. When did you come in?"
"Just now. I heard the demolition crew working in here." She smiled, taking in the full extent of the disaster.
"So. . .how's it going?"
"He collects barf bags."
The brunette started laughing. "Hey, it's better than collecting Cincinnati reds memorabilia."
"That's it. You're in trouble." The blonde hauled herself to her feet and started toward him. "I'm going to give you a god bruising and put an end to all those wisecracks."
Ash met her in the middle of the bedroom and, before the younger girl could hurt her, pulled her into her arms, and sealed her lips with a kiss. The blonde leaned into her, losing herself in Ash's taste and touch. Ash's hand moved down to her back and gathered the blonde so close against her body that there wasn't a breath of air between them.
"I like this kind of bruising," Ash said softly.
"There's more where that came from." Spencer smiled, kissing her again. "Oh. . .and good morning."
"I think we need to add sundresses to the 'too hot to wear' list," the brunette said, pushing one strap of her
dress down over her shoulder and pressing her lips to her pale skin.
Never mind the dress, Ash's mouth was hot, and the blonde loved the sensation. "I'm gradually running out of clothes I can wear."
"That's the idea." Ash ran her hands down over the curve of Spencer's bottom and pulled her closer. The younger woman didn't move away. She felt a thrill race to her very center.
Ash seemed to gather her self-control, looking over at the mess.
"So what happened here?" she asked.
"The shelves attacked me."
"You probably provoked them."
"Maybe a little." She hated to have Arthur come home to this. "Will you help me fix this?"
"Of course!
Ash left her standing in the middle of the room and went to test the brackets in the closet. They looked secure. She reached for one of the shelves that had fallen down. "What were you looking for?"
Spencer contemplated telling Ash about the passports, but decided against it. She felt so horrible thinking that Arthur might be doing something wrong, committing a crime. At the same time, she didn't want to lie.
"I wanted to se what was inside this box," she said, crouching down on the floor and starting to pt all the barf bags back inside of it. "I hope he didn't have his collection organized alphabetically by airline. Hey, look. . .Flugfelag Islands Air."
"That's great. But why were you in here?"
"Curiosity, okay? I was snooping around Arthur's closet. I'm trying to. . . To understand him."
She paused with the shelf in hand. Their gazes met over the mess between them. "I know what you're going through."
Spencer doubted it, but she didn't say anything.
"You and Arthur are doing a lot better. . . and in a lot less time. . . than my dad and I did."
"When was that?"
"Six years ago. I fourteen and full of hormones and resentment and distrust. I ran him through the wringer until I smartened up."
"So you were the one who had to change?"
Ash placed one end of the shelf on the floor and leaned on the other end. "I don't know. I guess he changed, too. He wasn't only dealing with me. He was trying to kick start his marriage with my mother again. And then there was my younger brother, the know-it-all of the family. For me, I just had to accept the fact that he was back, ad this time he was going to stay. In the end, it was a heck of a lot better to have him back with us."
Spencer carefully placed the last of the barf bags in the box and put on the lid. "I don't have all that. Arthur isn't back. He doesn't care about his family. He was stuck with me this summer because of my mother." She let out a frustrated breath. "At the same time, I can see that he's trying. There are moments that I really enjoy being with him. I like hearing him laugh. Tell stories. I can see myself in his eyes. Still, it hurts because I know its for a short time. Again."
Ash left the shelf on the floor and came over and took Spencer into her arms. The darn tears were threatening to fall again. She fought them.
"Its different now when you were a kid though," Ash told her softly. "You don't need him. Yu can be friends. You can work things out on your own terms. You can enjoy the time you have with him, without worrying what might or might not happen."
"Maybe," she replied, thinking again of the passports in the desk.
"He was nervous before you got here, Spencer. But I can tell you he's very happy that you're here now. I wouldn't write home off yet. Give him a chance."
"I am," she said, wiping a runaway tear on her cheek.
"And I think he's almost at the end of these crazy hours and trips off-island too. He keeps he's in the last
throes of this project he's working on. He told me he'd have a lot more time, after he's done with it."
"What's the project?"
"You got me. But he was definite that the end's in sight." Ash cupped her face and placed a kiss on her forehead. "So hang gin there."
She nodded, resigned to squash her curiosity for now. Maybe her father was doing the right thing. Maybe.
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