Saving Poughkeepsie

by Debra Anastasia

  So many things were wrong.

  After another family-gathering dinner, Livia sat with Kyle and their father in her darkened living room. Little JB slept in his car seat, and Kathy watched a video with the other kids in Emme’s room. Blake and Cole were in the basement, still putting together Emme’s new bike two days after she’d received it. Only Beckett and Eve were missing, having left for a vacation, of all things, which struck everyone else as long overdue.

  Livia couldn’t remember the last time it had been just the three of them. Her father nodded at the Christmas tree like it was a man in the room before he broke the silence.

  “Girls, I think you should move.” He looked from Kyle to Livia.

  “No.” Kyle shook her head. “I think I know where this is heading, and the answer is no.”

  Livia began to play with her hair as she looked from her father to her sister. This was how it always used to be. Kyle digging her heels in before she’d even heard their father out. Livia was always the peacekeeper.

  “Listen for a second.” She tried to convince her sister with the intensity of her gaze.

  Kyle sat back on the sofa and crossed her legs.

  Their father put one hand up and seemed to want to use it to pluck the right words from the air. “Taylor’s here. And even he’s concerned. Somehow this place, this city has come to the attention of some pretty bad people.”

  Their father put his searching hand in his hair. “It’s getting to the point, with all that’s happened in the past, that I want you both to have some distance from this situation.”

  Kyle began shaking her head.

  He watched Kyle as he spoke his next words. “You’re mothers. You have to think about the kids now.”

  Kyle continued to ramp up. This conversation was poorly timed. Livia knew her dad just wanted to take advantage of this moment when they were all together, but between the newness of Kyle’s motherhood and the poignancy of Christmastime, it was not a great situation.

  She spoke quickly, hoping to cut off a hot-headed answer from her sister. “Dad, I appreciate your opinion. We both do. But the option of moving away isn’t sitting great with Kyle or me. She and I have talked about it, of course.”

  Kyle nodded.

  “This place is where we have our memories. This very house. We created a family worth fighting for with you, and now we’re making it bigger. We want this to be where we keep our roots. And if we moved? Would you be able to come?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got five more years until I can retire. I have to stay here.”

  “So that settles it. Mom left you, but we certainly aren’t going to. And the kids would miss you and Kathy so much. Unless we have to—I mean, we aren’t going to be unreasonable, but we’re staying. And as far as Beckett’s enemies? They can find us anywhere. They do that for a living. Don’t you agree?”

  “I don’t agree that they can find you anywhere. Not as easily anyway, but I hear what you’re saying, and I respect it.” He stood and rubbed his hands on his pants. “That said, if I continue to feel uneasy, we’ll have this conversation again.” He looked back at the tree for a moment. “Whelp, Kathy and I best be going.”

  Kyle stood as well. “Thank you, Dad. Because of you we always know how important it is to put the kids first.”

  Their father nodded once and opened his arms. Kyle and Livia stepped into the three-person hug like it was a command. A flash startled them all, and they turned to see Cole checking the picture he’d just snapped.

  “Looks good.”

  Kathy came quietly down the stairs with her finger to her lips. Livia smiled as Blake came up from the basement, whispering, “They’re out?”

  Kathy nodded and winked. “Big day! Another in a long line of them, right?”

  Livia smiled. As quietly as possible, the company packed their things and wished each other the good tidings of the holidays.

  Livia finally closed the door, and Blake switched the lock in place before setting the alarm.

  “It’s only nine o’clock, but it feels so much later.” Livia snuggled into his arms. “Were you drinking downstairs?”

  “Yes. A few times.” He pulled her into a dance position. The Christmas music softly playing on the computer seemed louder now in the quiet of the house.

  He began to sway, humming the melody. They watched as the dog walked through the living room, gave them both a dirty look, and headed upstairs to bed.

  “He disapproves of this rowdy behavior.” Blake tsked.

  “Oh, hell yes, he does. We’re out of control.” Livia’s words turned to giggles as Blake dipped her in front of the tree.

  “Are you ready for the tradition, my bride?”

  “Sexmas? I can’t wait.” Livia wrapped her arms around Blake’s neck and kissed him deeply.

  During every Christmastime, sometime while the tree was up, they had a date. They’d find room on the living room floor and make love in the splashes of colored light from the tree.

  Blake cleared space and sprinted upstairs to get their end of the baby monitor. Livia met him back under the tree with a bottle of chilled wine and a glass.

  He set up the monitor before meeting her picnic style on the floor.

  “Only a few more years before this tradition gets too risky,” she told him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Don’t you mean risqué? Only one glass?” Blake took the bottle and opened it with a quiet pop.

  “The rest are dirty.”

  “I’m going to show you dirty in a minute.” He handed her a full glass before toasting her with the bottle.

  Livia sighed. “The wooing has fallen so far, Mr. Hartt. It used to be all smile counts and poetry. Now we just call sex ‘the dirty.’”

  “Not enough romance for you, Mrs. Hartt? I’d like you to know I took the trash out and walked the dog before bringing all my game to this carpet.” Blake took a long gulp from the bottle.

  “You’re going to have a hangover tomorrow.” Livia let him have her glass, and he set it on the coffee table.

  “I’m not worried about tomorrow. I’m worried about right now, with you, under this Christmas tree.” Blake supported her neck as he laid her on the floor.

  Livia turned her head. “You’d better convince me. So far you’ve talked about the dog going to the bathroom, trash, and dirtiness.”

  Blake kissed her jaw and turned her head gently, kissing her mouth as she bit her lips together.

  “Can’t I just convince you with my manly ways?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  He could, of course, do just that—but she shook her head. She loved the playful sparkle in his green eyes. His five o’clock shadow just made him more handsome, framing his kissable lips with scruff.

  “Okay.” He put his fingers at the bottom of her shirt, lifting it gently so he could circle her belly button with his index finger. “You’re the sexiest, most beautiful woman on this planet. So sexy, in fact, that I had to have you. I had to make you bear my children because my universe and yours had to be combined. Everything I’ve ever been needed to be buried inside of you, so deep, so full of love that we created life. Twice.”

  He lifted her shirt and kissed the tops of her breasts, whispering his devotion into her skin. “And it’s never enough. Unless I can hear you coming, I can’t think of anything else. All day, every day. For years now. You’re that powerful, Livia. This. Us. It’s so intense that years of it haven’t cured me. I can’t stop wanting to make love to you.”

  “Wow.” Livia smiled and pulled his face back to hers, kissing him and effectively stopping his beautiful words.

  He unbuttoned her pants and slipped his hands inside. “I wasn’t done.”

  “I hope not.” Livia unbuttoned his shirt, needing to touch the center of his chest, her talisman. Finally she could feel the steady beat against her hand. As his hand found her, she worked to keep her gaze on his determined face. It was amazing to watch him. This Blake, so sexual and dominant, was only for her. She kisse
d him again, trying to put some skill into it, but his fingers were taking her control. His heartbeat increased even more as she started to toss.

  When he pulled her pants roughly from her thighs, she forgot to be quiet. He hooked her legs on his shoulders, changing his touch from the deep, intimate strokes to a kiss. He used one hand to brace her lower back and his other to combine touch with his oral skills.

  She looked down at him, his tongue buried deep inside of her but his gaze on her face. She came.

  He held her steady and showed no mercy during her climax, begging her body to go further than she could even fathom. Her legs shook and she bit her wrist, trying to stifle her moans of satisfaction.

  But Blake wasn’t done, nor was he interested in giving her a second to breathe. She was on her knees before she could stop shuddering, and he was forceful and wild behind her, his long fingers finding her again, reminding her he was in charge. His touch felt so good it was almost pain. He increased his tempo until she needed her elbows to help her keep balance.

  When he was finally spent, they lay on the floor, panting. She kissed his cheek and felt for his heartbeat again. “Merry Christmas. I love you.”

  He kissed her forehead between pants. “I love you right back.”

  13

  Doom

  On the Sunday after Christmas, Ryan pulled away from Ted’s building. Now that he’d broken into the man’s apartment, he felt even less easy than before. His trip to the hospital yesterday had given him a brief respite from his nagging cop gut feeling. The receptionist had assured him that Dr. Hartt had been in touch few times. He was a last-minute speaker at a medical conference out of town.

  But when Ryan went through the apartment again picking a lock on his way, nothing had been moved. Not a single thing. The sponge was still where he’d stowed it next to the sink. The dishwasher hadn’t been unloaded. The pie Eve left hadn’t been touched. Dr. Hartt had clearly not been home.

  It just didn’t add up. He didn’t like it. He drove to work, knowing what he was doing now could be conceived as reverse stalking. Trish-style weirdness. But after Ryan let himself into his office about the time he’d usually be leaving—and on a Sunday, no less—he waved to co-workers here for second shift and began to investigate.

  After a few phone calls, Ryan was looking at Ted Hartt’s credit card history. The man hadn’t made a digital footprint since Christmas. Thanks to the cell phone company, he knew the text messages from Ted’s phone were the only evidence that he was still functioning. Another call put Ryan in touch with a somebody that owed him a favor. After listening to his friend tap around on a keyboard, Ryan knew Dr. Hartt’s texts to Eve had come from an untraceable computer, not a phone. After a little more prodding, the friend told Ryan that Eve was in Florida, which explained why she hadn’t already scoped out her dad’s place.

  Ryan hung up the phone. After seeing the mistletoe, he’d known Dr. Hartt was in trouble. Now he was sure the man was in serious trouble. If there’d been a ransom or blackmail, Eve would be back from Florida—unless that was where she’d been led. This was not good. He needed to call her.

  Her phone went straight to voice mail, and Ryan knew he would have to raise hell. He’d have to call every phone and shake down every scumbag until he could find Eve. He’d start with the brothers first, and he’d have to clue McHugh in next. Ugh. He’d have to admit to the stalking, the clandestine Christmas dinner, all of it.

  He pulled out his wallet and looked at the picture she’d included. Despite the fact that he loved her, Eve was his friend. This was her father, and something was very wrong. But before he went crazy, he’d contact the convention where Dr. Hartt was supposed to be.

  He just wished he didn’t have such a feeling of doom.

  Beckett laughed as they turned their chairs away from the surf and faced the beach house instead. The wine bottle was fine where it was, propped in the sand between them. G sprawled out on a towel Eve had brought down from the bathroom.

  The last of the sun was peeking over the horizon, warming their faces. They were both coated in a thin, salty mist from the Gulf behind them.

  He looked over his shoulder to her face. He leaned closer and lifted her sunglasses, comparing the color of the endless waves to her eyes.

  “Blue as the fucking ocean. Just so you know.” He leaned forward to kiss her, carefully adding his tongue to taste her salty, wine-flavored lips.

  She shook her head, but snaked an arm out of the comforter she’d brought to the beach from the bed to touch his face.

  Under the blanket she wore a tank top and comfy pajama bottoms. Her feet were bare with sand caught between her toes. Peaceful.

  She’d been the soft Eve for hours upon hours now, and he was so in love, so thrilled he could bring her round. No kids in sight, just his big, stupid self making her take down her guard felt like winning the biggest medal in his life.

  “What’s for Sunday dinner?” She unfolded her legs and stuck them in the sand. She ignored her own question as she used her feet to sift through the tiny grains. “I’ve never seen sand like this. It’s so white. I’m used to brown sand. And it’s acting like Play-Doh. It’s crazy.”

  “It’s quartz. Supposedly it’ll stay cool in the summer. Only beach like it. Or so says the Internet.” Beckett reached down and grabbed a handful, letting it slide through his fingers. “I like the lifeguard stands.”

  They both glanced in the direction of the bright shacks, each a different primary color. Although he hadn’t rented out the beach, it was so offseason that there were few people on the large expanse of sand. He and Eve had made love on the beach under the moonlight just last night.

  “Hungry.” She pointed at her mouth and made all kinds of purring noises, acting like a cartoon cat.

  Playful. Damn if he didn’t want to buy the house they were living in, flush the rest of the world down the toilet, and mail his brothers and their families to the surrounding houses. This was a close to heaven as Beckett felt he’d ever get.

  “I’ve got a plan. No worries,” he told her. “Actually, let’s pack up and get ready.”

  He helped her gather all their shit, and soon enough they were trekking back into the house.

  “I hate leaving. What’s in the fridge?”

  “Shut it, crazy woman. I brought you a dress and shoes and crap. We are going to dinner together. Then we can come back to paradise.” He led her upstairs and opened the bathroom door. Hanging from a hook was a simple white dress. White sandals that laced up her calf sat beside the vanity, and a velvet box stood next to a tube of lipstick. “It’s got everything you need in here.”

  She shook her head, but smiled widely. “Thought of everything, right?”

  He got dressed in white pants and a linen shirt, slapping on some cologne to top off the look. He fed G and took him for a quick walk, and by the time the dog had his belly rub, Eve was coming down the stairs.

  The dress skimmed her curves perfectly, and she’d shrugged on a super soft white cashmere sweater. Her sandals were perfect for walking in the sand. She wore the diamond pendant and matching earrings he’d left by her lipstick.

  She could be a wife. Some lucky fuck’s capable, gorgeous partner—a man who wouldn’t let her be in danger.

  “Thank you for my accessories. This is over the top. And not practical.” She hugged him around the waist and set her head on his chest.

  “Fuck practical.” He tilted her face to his. “I want to decorate you with diamonds. It’s sort of like peeing on my tree, ’cept more expensive.”

  “Let me check my phone. See if my dad can FaceTime real quick.” She went to the kitchen in search of the device.

  Ted had texted Eve a few times, but he hadn’t answered the phone when she’d called. It was the only part of the vacation that wasn’t going as planned.

  “Still no answer.” She returned with the phone in her hand. “I’ll call again when we get back. Can you put this in your pocket? I don’t want to carry a p
urse.”

  He turned his hip in her direction, and she slid the phone in his front pants pocket.

  “Ready?” He held his elbow out to her, and she took it. Instead of taking the car, Beckett walked them out the back door.

  They strolled along the beach for about a quarter of a mile before Beckett spotted the restaurant he’d rented. The waiters were waiting and took Eve’s sweater and his sports jacket. Another of them led them to the table closest to the window, which was surrounded with candles and twinkling white lights.

  “You went all out.”

  “Just spoiling you, killer.” Beckett held her chair as she sat.

  He admired her hair falling around her shoulders as he tasted the offered wine and approved it. After they both had a glass, he held his up for a toast.

  “To us.”

  She nodded before tapping his glass. After a swallow she smiled. “This is amazing.”

  “I picked out all your favorites.” Beckett lifted his chin in the direction of the servers, and the food was delivered to the table.

  A gorgeous salad with avocados and sunflower seeds was joined by a bowl of matzo ball soup.

  After sipping a bit of soup and poking around the salad, she finally figured it out, “This tastes just like the soup at Nicolatti’s in Poughkeepsie. And is this the Chick-Fil-A salad?”

  He nodded. “Flown in just for the occasion. Well, not the salad. They had that down the street. Don’t worry, this fine establishment is handing the main course.”

  The way she rolled her eyes made him want to kick himself for not doing this every weekend. It was always such a war—so many lives depending on them, so much to attend to. This whole vacation felt delectably selfish.

  The pasta primavera came next, and it was delicious. They shared small talk about dreams and plans of a future that would require them both to take different paths. They would buy the house they were living in, for sure. And the brothers would move, no problem.

  “So, where do you want the wedding?” He thanked the waiter who refilled their wine glasses.