SAILING INTO UNCHARTED WATERS

Chapter Five

"Lori, Lori, honey, wake up," urged John, gathering his wife into his arms. "You're dreaming, babe… that's all… just a dream… shush…"

Holding her close, he murmured soothing words into her ear and lightly smoothed her hair. His mouth traveled the slender column of her throat; beneath the silky skin, he could feel her pulse racing against his lips. "It's okay, everything's fine," he said softly, attempting to calm her.

Slowly, Laura relaxed. She touched her cheeks, embarrassed at the dampness there. "I'm sorry… the dream… God, Johnny, it was so real…"

John pulled back several inches in order to observe her face. Her expression appeared strained and unhappy in the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains. "Tell me," he said. "Is it the baby? Did you dream something happened to the baby? Are you okay? You gotta tell me if you're not well, Lori!"

Laura swallowed a hiccup, and then took a deep, steadying breath. "It's not the baby," she said.

John heard the slight quaver in her voice and it concerned him. What concerned him even more was the shimmer of tears he saw in her eyes, and the way she bit her lip as she reached out her hand, gently caressing the side of his face. "It's not the baby," she repeated, allowing her thumb to lightly brush his lower lip.

She dropped her hand as she recalled the dream, experiencing once again the horror she'd felt in her nightmare. Quickly, unexpectedly, she pulled John close, holding him tight.

"Lori, what is it?" he asked, puzzled, but returning her embrace. "What was the dream about?"

Fear choked her, preventing her from speaking. She had a sudden, terrible superstition that verbalizing her fears might turn them into reality.

During the daylight, Laura was able to handle her worries about John's job. In the daylight, her fears seemed silly, the product of an overwrought imagination.

But the nighttime hours! It was the hours between dusk and dawn that every goblin that ever hid in a child's closet suddenly broke free; those were the hours when Laura's carefully structured defenses collapsed and her worries got the best of her. The monster hiding in Laura's closet was her fear of getting a call from Andy telling her that John was hurt – or worse.

It angered her that he was so cavalier about his safety, and she suspected he didn't tell her half the things he experienced working the streets of New York.

She knew he loved the job - that was the problem.

He was smart; he could easily move up the ranks and get a desk job. It would be better pay – and it would be blessedly safe. But he loved the action. There was a part of her husband that enjoyed the violence of the job. He had an Irish temper beneath the gentleness he displayed toward her and those he protected. She'd heard the rumors of his run-ins with the thugs on the street. John Kelly gave as good as he got.

And that's what worried her.

It's what caused her to awaken in the middle of the night while Johnny slept, her heart racing, her breath coming in painful little gasps. That was when she'd get out of bed, unable to go back to sleep.

As her heart settled back into its normal rhythm, she released her hold on John and began to rise from the bed. "I need some water," she said.

"I can get that for you." He started to sit up, but Laura shook her head.

"I need to get up, John."

He watched her leave the bedroom, unsure what to do. He thought about going back to sleep; it would be time to get up for work soon. That's what she wanted, he knew – to be alone with her thoughts. He could always tell and this was one of those times.

Hell, who am I kidding? he thought. There's no way I'll get any sleep now. He got out of bed, threw on the blue striped bathrobe, and went in search of his wife.

When he entered the kitchen, she frowned. "Go back to bed, Johnny," she said in a tired voice.

"Tell me about the dream."

She pulled a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured a glass. As she drank the juice, she watched John, sitting at the table, his eyes centered on the blocks and teddy bear she'd placed there earlier that evening. Her heart softened at the look on his face, and she moved to the table and sat down across from him.

"Hard to believe we're really going to have a baby, isn't it?" she asked. A gentle smile played about her lips and she reached across the table for his hand.

He smiled back at her, but his eyes were grave. "I'm happy, Lori, but I'm also worried. What happened back there in the bedroom?"

The smile left her face and her eyes drifted down to their locked hands. "I dreamed I got a call from the hospital. When I got there, Andy was there… he'd been crying. In the background, I kept hearing a police radio…'officer down, officer down…'

"It was you, Johnny. You were the officer." She stopped, unable to go on.

John exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "It was a dream, Lori. Just a dream."

"This time…"

"Hey, I'm right here. I'm fine."

Laura said nothing, continuing to stare at their hands.

John hated seeing her this way. In spite of his attempt to reassure her, he realized her fears were legitimate. He still remembered the day his father's life had ended. Jack Kelly had walked through the wrong door at the wrong time. The last time his ten-year old son saw him, he was lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment with tubes going in and out of him. His dad never even opened his eyes to say goodbye…

The memory of it still haunted John, making it difficult for him to enter the hospital where his father died, even on the occasions when his job demanded it.

But like his old man, John was a cop; it was his calling. Lori was unable to understand that, and he didn't know how to explain it to her. He was beginning to think the job would always be between them, but he didn't know what to do about it. He knew Lori wanted him off the streets, but a desk jockey wasn't who he was. He was like his dad, a street cop through and through.

The world was sometimes a shitty place. He wanted to make it a little less so. And now that he had a baby on the way, it was even more important to him to make a difference. He wanted to hand his kid a better world in which to live, one that was just a little better because John Kelly, Jr. had made it so. Sentimental? Yeah. And probably a losing battle, but that's how he felt.

Lori squeezed his hand. "Johnny, you were shot at today. You might not have been fine. You might not have come home to me… to us. You might never have known you were going to be a father!"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, but it didn't work out that way, did it? You can't second-guess every encounter, Lori. And you can't live your life worrying about what might have been – not if you want to do your job effectively. That kind of thinking is a liability for a cop."

A shaky laugh escaped her, one tinged with irritation. "The intrepid Johnny Kelly! Defender of Truth, Justice and the American Way."

"I hope so," he said, his voice and eyes serious. "I've got an obligation to the people of this city."

"You've got an obligation to your child," said Lori, removing her hand from his. She stood up, frustrated by his refusal to understand how afraid she was.

"You're right," he agreed. "I do. And it's for him that I'm doing this. I want him to have a good life."

"How can he have a good life if you're not here?" She ran a hand through her hair, and tears once again threatened. "God, I hate this! Your need to be a crusader ruins even the happiest moments! I didn't want to fight tonight… I wanted this to be a wonderful night… instead… instead…"

Her words drifted off into nothing, and she stood there in the middle of the kitchen, wondering where all the bright anticipation had fled to. It was always like this. Always.

John stood up and crossed the room to her. "Hey, it's okay. Look, I'm careful. You think I don't want to be around? You think I don't want to grow old with you, see my kid grow up? I'm not going to jeopardize any of that. You gotta trust me, Lori."

What could she say to that, she wondered. She'd married a cop. And she loved him. She'd have to find a way to cope; what else could she do?

She watched John visibly relax. He seemed to sense he'd won some sort of battle. Well, I guess he has, she thought. I can't let his job come between us. Not now.

"Johnny, you have to do something about Andy."

He stiffened. "Lori, please… not now."

"If not now, then when?" She reached for his hand. "I'm serious. Please think about what I'm saying. He needs help. You know that! He's not himself."

"He's going through a rough patch. He'll come through it. He's worried about his kid; his ex is hanging him out to dry… he's got a lot on his plate."

Laura gave him a skeptical look. "I don't give a damn about his plate. What I care about is your safety. When you're out on the street, you need to know that Andy is exercising good judgment, that he has your back. It's enough worry for me that you refuse to get off the street, but…"

She stopped and took a deep breath. Something Johnny said to her when they first began going together came to mind in that moment: Never tell me what to do, Lori. Suggest… just suggest…

Keeping his macho pride in mind, she tried another tack with her stubborn husband. "Okay, I get it. Andy is going through a bad time. You're his friend… you want to help him through it."

"That's right. I owe him a lot. I wouldn't be where I am without his taking me under his wing all those years ago."

Laura doubted that, but she kept her thoughts to herself. "John, can you talk him into getting some help? Talk to him. Please, get him some help… maybe I'll sleep better at night."

He nodded and then kissed the palm of her hand. "I'll talk to him."

Andy woke the next morning feeling like he'd crawled out of a sewer. Another night that had started out with good intentions and then gone in the opposite direction. His tongue felt like sandpaper; the taste in his mouth was foul. He rolled over onto his side to look at the clock.

Christ! Where the hell did she come from?

Lying next to him, her mouth wide open, was the redheaded dancer from the Strutting Peacock. Sounds of faint snuffling escaped the sleeping woman each time she inhaled.

Andy frowned. He had a vague memory of the girl doing a complimentary lap dance for him… after that his memory was sort of foggy. He stared at the large, uncovered breasts that lay flaccid on either side of her chest. They didn't look quite so pert without the tassels that had covered them the night before. Or had his vision returned along with his sobriety?

The redhead looked older than he'd taken her for in the smoky dimness of the club last night; the morning sunlight gave evidence of slight lines around her mouth and puffiness under her eyes.

What the hell was her name? JoJo… Jolene? No… JoEllen… yeah, JoEllen.

He looked past her to the alarm clock on night table and groaned. He should have been at work thirty minutes ago. Fancy was going to have his ass if this continued.

Andy tried to sit up, but quickly fell back onto the mattress. His head ached like a son of a bitch!

He looked again at the redhead. Christ! What had he been thinking?

But that's just it… he hadn't been thinking.

Not with his brain, anyway.

"Hey, you, Sleeping Beauty," he said. His voice was so raspy he almost didn't recognize it. "C'mon, Sunshine, time to rise and move it." He shook the redhead's shoulder.

Slowly, she opened one eye, and then the other. "Jesus, Andy! What's your problem?"

"My problem is I shoulda been at work half an hour ago. I gotta get dressed – and you gotta get out of here." With a grimace, he finally rose to his feet. Lurching over to where his trousers lay on the floor, he reached down for them. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

Well, at least she wasn't a thief; his money was still there.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked, eyeing her up.

"Now don't be that way. You don't owe me nuthin', Andy Pandy. I had a real good time last night."

She got out of bed and approached him, a seductive smile on her face. Andy thought she was going to kiss him, but instead she reached for his balls and gave them a quick, expert squeeze.

"Hm… nice piece of property you got there, darlin'. How about we try a little experiment? You get back in that bed and we'll see how quickly I can make you forget all about needin' to get to work. What do you say, darlin'?"

Andy stepped back. "Sorry, Sunshine. Not today. You gotta go. Now." He pulled a fifty from his wallet and held it out to her. "Here, buy yourself a dress or something."

The redhead frowned at him. "I don't want no goddam dress, and I don't want your money either."

Andy shrugged and tossed the money on the bed. "Well, that's a newsflash… the whore with a heart of gold, turning down good hard cash."

"How dare you!" gasped the woman. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Andy exhaled heavily, shook his head and turned his back on her. "Look, kid, the night is over, okay? Get dressed. Go on… beat it."

"I see how it is," she said, gathering up her clothes. She pulled her dress over her head, and stuffed her underwear into a large purse sitting at the foot of the bed. "Last night it was all pretty words and eager hands; today, nuthin'! You ain't a gentleman."

"That's the truth," he muttered, more to himself than to her. She might be a whore, but she was right. His behavior last night had been loathsome. He'd taken her home and screwed her until liquor and exhaustion overcame him. She'd been nothing to him… just some bimbo he met at the club. Broads like her were a dime a dozen.

Even as he thought it, an inner voice admonished him. Don't be a sanctimonious prick, Sipowicz. You're no better than she is.

She slid into her high heels and, finally dressed, walked quickly to the door.

The fifty-dollar bill was still lying on the bed.

"Go ahead, kid, take the money," he said, resolved to be kind. "You earned it."

She ignored him and opened the door. Just as she was about to leave, she turned and looked at him. "You ain't no nice guy. You talk a real good show… but you ain't no nice guy."

Andy watched the door close behind her.

She was right.

He wasn't a nice guy.

To be continued.

Authors' Note: This is a continuing story from the writing team of WriterJasmine and Teeheehee1234. It's meant to be a fun attempt at writing a story together based on words that readers provide to us on a weekly basis. For more information about this, please read our profile and please feel free to participate. The 'bolded' words throughout the story are words that some of our reader friends sent our way this week. The words utilized are: pulse; fear; monster; son; calling; liability; intrepid; obligation; pert; balls; property; experiment; loathsome; and sanctimonious.