Shattered 11

Connie was scheduled for the evening shift, and no matter how angry she was at Norman, she wasn't going to disregard her responsibilities. She just hoped that the 'time alone' he seemed so set on would maybe snap some sense into him. She was concerned, of course, since she was more or less aware of her role as guardian, in case he was ever guilty of 'diminished capacity'.

Physically, he was a grown man, but emotionally? Every bit the boy he had been when he poisoned Mother's tea. Of course he was no longer controlled by the same problems-- she would have never taken him into her life or her bed if there was a chance he'd 'relapse'. Maybe this was some new problem-- something never recognized and treated. And if that was the case, she couldn't afford to have it surface just now, with the pregnancy and all that went with it.

She was set to leave at 3:30, and would have, if the phone didn't start ringing. She dropped her bags in the doorway and ran to answer.

"Norman?" She was sure it would be her errant husband, perhaps overwhelmed by being far from his home turf. No one responded. She tried again. "Hello?" There was another moment of silence and the line went dead.

Another hang up call. It was getting tedious, but she didn't have time to bother with it now. The caller ID reported 'unknown number' like all the ones before. She set the phone in the cradle, made sure the answering machine was on, and then grabbed her bags and left.

The drive to work was occupied with rambling thoughts; she would give up this time to analyze the situation, but once she got to work, that was it. There were other lives to deal with and she couldn't be distracted.

Meanwhile, what went wrong? The incident at La Belle, obviously, and it would not be repeated. She had gambled that it would have swayed him to be more agreeable with their marriage contract, but it had only aggravated the situation. She would let him be sullen and childish, in that case. She would not think that once the child was born, the situation could get worse. That would not be tolerated.

Hours later and hundreds of miles away, Norman's thoughts were far removed from the unpleasant trap he left behind.

Laney's body was warm and inviting, pressed against his as they embraced in the suite foyer. Blindly he reached out for a small table and set aside the box he had almost crushed in his excitement. With both hands free, he stroked the contours of his partner's back. There was a rush of deep, passionate kisses that assured he was indeed ready to indulge in more. His jeans began to feel uncomfortably tight in his groin, and Laney felt it as well.

"Oh, Laney. Laney!" He practically crushed her in his desperate embrace. "I never imagined this-- I didn't dare. I didn't think you'd even remember!" He whispered anxiously in her ear, her long hair now unpinned and soft against his face. "I've never been with anyone but Connie." Don't even speak that name. It has no business in this room, and these arms…

"Shh. It's alright." she cooed gently. "I just want to be with you tonight. Even just to lie beside you while you sleep-- it doesn't matter."

He kissed her again, trusting her completely. She would never lie to him, he knew. She was different than that 'other person'; she had no reason to deceive him. She could have let their reunion end at the bookstore-- or even the restaurant-- but she didn't. She knew about his past, and that he was planning to leave an unhappy marriage-- she knew all about it and didn't care. And now perhaps they both felt this was their only chance to celebrate the one honest and pure relationship in their lives.

"But what about you?" Norman was afraid to ask, in case there was 'someone else', not mentioned in their hours of conversation. "Do you have…. anybody---" He felt ashamed to think that their time together might be compromising something else. He didn't want 'his Laney' to regret their time together, though he certainly didn't consider anything he was about to do as betraying a loved one. Outside of Laney O'Donnell, he had no loved one.

"No one." she assured softly. "Friends and acquaintances, but since my husband died…." She didn't know how else to say it. "I haven't been too interested in this sort of thing, until you showed up."

Another flurry of kisses convinced him that it was meant to be. A relationship, started as a childhood friendship, untainted by the excesses of intervening years, was free to blossom into romance-- the 'so much more' he had always dreamt possible for everyone except him.

She broke the embrace, tugging on his arm, and dragged him away toward the bedroom. He kicked off his shoes in the sitting room, following along in a trot. They laughed at their own awkward progress-- loosening clothes, indulging in kisses, as they made their hurried way.

Laney stood beside the bed, down to her lacey Victoria's Secret under things. Norman tore off his shirt with such enthusiasm that she laughed out loud. She sat on the edge of the bed and was immediately bowled over onto her back as Norman lunged forward to kiss her again.

More kisses, more fumbling with clothes, and more tender embraces quickly followed. Norman's hands trembled as they gently roamed the soft warm curves of Laney's flesh. He moaned into her mouth, as they moved together into a more comfortable position along the bed. Her hands slid between them, eagerly working at the buckle of his belt. She pushed against the waistband of his eans, and Norman moved from her only long enough to oblige. He peeled off the last of his clothing and pushed it onto the floor, before once more lying atop her for another flood of kisses.

She quickly embraced him-- all of him. Her hands stroked his shoulders, his back, his hips as he tensed and writhed in pleasure. Reaching down between their bodies once again, her fingers caressed him intimately, and he moaned at the touch-- the wonderful, gentle, healing hands that embraced, and stroked and inspired.

"I love you."

The frantic whisper escaped them both at the same time. It's real! It's Laney! With little effort Norman sidled his hips between her yielding limbs and consummated their union with ardent delight.

Time passed. Somewhere.

It didn't matter what hour it was; in that bedroom, in that hotel, in that tangle of arms and legs and bed sheets, time didn't matter.

Norman lay on his back, stroking Laney's arm as it rested over his chest. He was at peace, safe and secure, feeling cool air against hot flesh as perspiration dried. She was asleep now, head against his shoulder, hair spilling over the pillow like a sleeping angel. It was perfection.

He was pleasantly tired from making love, time and again, and should be sleeping, too. There had been ecstasy found in each others attentions-- attentions that happened without words or suggestion-- a natural progression, as if each knew-- instinctively-- what pleased the other. It had never been quite like that before, and he was already worried that it would never have the chance to be like that again.

Don't think like that. Nothing matters but now. No one matters but Laney and me.

He smiled, and understood that everything happens for a reason. This bliss could never have happened quite like this, if her family hadn't left, if mother hadn't died, or even those other people, too. Because then he would have never met the doctor who married and betrayed him, and would have never been driven back to the motel, and the safety of childhood memories. Laney O'Donnell would have come and gone from California, signing books and he would have never known.

There was a soft purring noise again, like he had heard earlier. The muted tone of a cell phone beyond the bedroom door, maybe buried under clothes in the sitting room. After a few moments of insistence, it stopped.

Suddenly the room was split by the loud jangle of the phone at the bedside. Laney started and groaned, not willing to stir from sleep and let the world intrude. The phone was on the table on Norman's side of the bed, and he thought about lifting the receiver off the hook just to make it stop. Unfortunately, the caller would just try again, more than likely. And who would be calling Laney in the middle of the night-- their night-- if it wasn't important?

Awkwardly, he reached for the phone and picked it up.

"Laney! Laney! Thank God you're there!"

It was that annoying Ms Chandler. She must have been the one trying the cell phone, too. Norman wasn't going to disturb his lady for this woman, and took particular delight in handling the call himself.

"Hello?"

That single word in a masculine voice sent chills down Sandy's spine.

"Is this Miss Chandler?" Norman smiled as he spoke in a deep, almost seductive tone.

"What the hell are you doing there?" Sandy was screaming into the receiver. "Where's Laney??"

"She's sleeping. Maybe you can tell me what this is about."

"Get her on the phone right now! I want to speak to Laney!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Is it something important?"

She slammed the receiver down with enough force to make him wince. Norman rolled slightly to the side, and clicked the phone a few times until assured of a dial tone. Then he opened the drawer of the night stand, dropped the receiver in, and closed it again. There would be no more phone calls to bother them now.

Laney nuzzled against her lover and wrapped arms around him, still half asleep. He rolled to face her, straightened the blankets over them and then gently took her in his arms. He thought he might try to sleep for a little while, and was soon dozing peacefully.