Rolling in Clover

by Dawn, Penny

  "Where do they live now?"

  Kimberley shook her head and released the break. “I don't know. I haven't talked to them in a very long time.” Her childhood home disappeared in the rearview mirror, leaving her to wonder if it was real. Had she imagined a life in Lake Villa? Had she dreamed the falling out with her sisters after her mother's death?

  She'd long since forgotten her mother's face, and she'd never remembered her father's. But the images of Kathleen and Maura remained as clear as a holiday memento. They were real, all right, but no longer part of her.

  She was young, eighteen, when her mother died. The argument with Kathleen and Maura centered on what her sisters had coined “her share” of the unimpressive estate her mother had left behind. Funny that something she'd never wanted had robbed her of something she'd always desired—closeness with her sisters.

  "You can keep it all.” She recited the last words she'd spoken to her sisters. “I'll make my own way."

  "What, Mommy?” Allison asked.

  "Nothing, baby."

  Second stop, north side of Cedar Lake. On the bay. Jason had always wanted to buy his parents’ practical Tudor, to raise his children in his childhood backyard. Had his dreams come true? The “Devon” on the mailbox wasn't telling any fortunes. Had Gene and Sheila retired? If Kimberley knocked on the door now, would Jason answer, bare-chested and covered in weekend warrior sweat?

  "Who lives here, Mommy?"

  "I'm not sure. I always hoped this house would be mine someday."

  "It's pretty."

  "Isn't it? Would you like to live here?"

  "With you?"

  "Of course, with me."

  "And Daddy?"

  Well, no. Kimberley wiped tears from her eyes. Brennan would never live in a lake community so far out of the city, would never stoop to living in a modest home like this one.

  Life in Lake Villa had continued without her. Jason had married, and probably fathered. Her sisters, with any luck, had followed their dreams and gotten the hell out. Hopefully, they'd found happiness, or whatever it was they were looking for.

  "I don't belong here,” Kimberley whispered.

  "I'm hungry, Mommy."

  "You are?” She dabbed at her eyes with a knuckle. “I know just the place. The best peanut butter and jelly in the lakes region."

  "What's the lakes region?"

  "Where we are. Here. Where I used to be."

  She drove around Cedar Lake and parked the car in a gravel lot next to a building in dire need of renovation.

  They entered Dot's Place, the aroma of fried fish, Today's Catch, wafting from the greasy kitchen. For nostalgia's sake, Kimberley refused the front booth by the window—Jason had always referred to that table as the Fish Bowl—and slid into the second.

  What would have happened had she and Jason met for lunch in this dingy diner just one more time?

  What would have happened had he responded differently to her news? “Jason, I'm pregnant."

  His smile appeared, slow and nervous. “Really?"

  "I don't know what to do."

  His thumb working over her knuckles. “We'll work it out."

  Working it out had turned out to mean giving her a few days to think about what she wanted. Law school? Or a family?

  "Why are you crying, Mommy?"

  She wiped a tear. “Because I'm lucky to have you. Do you know you're the best part of Mommy's life? Do you know that?"

  "And Daddy's.” Allison grinned.

  "And Daddy's.” If only he'd show it, once in a while. “After lunch, I'm going to take you to all the places I used to go when I was your age."

  "Like where?"

  "Well, there's a park not far from here with a real caboose. The rest of the train is gone, but the caboose is still there."

  Allison's eyes grew large. “Really?"

  "Really. And there's a beach with a pier, where we can skip stones, and take off our shoes and wade in the water. And there used to be a horse farm behind the YMCA, too. We'll buy some carrots and feed the horses."

  "Real horses?"

  "If they're still there."

  "Mommy? I like Lake Villa."

  "I used to when I was your age, too."

  But then her father left. And then her mother died, and she'd lost her sisters, too. When she'd aborted Jason's child, she'd cut the threads that had connected her to the tiny town. She no longer fit there. Maybe she never did.

  * * * *

  At eight-fifteen, Kimberley carried a sleeping Allison into the house.

  "Hi, Kimmy."

  She jumped at the sound of Lauren's voice and shifted her daughter. “Where's Bren?"

  "Out with Rick."

  "Figures."

  "He's out looking for you."

  "What?” She sank to the sofa and laid Allison across her lap.

  "I'm not saying he wasn't an asshole this afternoon,” Lauren said. “But what were you thinking? You've been gone for over seven hours."

  "He's looking for me? Is he ... at the track?"

  Lauren shook her head and shrugged at the same time. “Who knows by now?"

  "Well, I'm home. You can take the car, go home to your kids."

  "Honey, was this a hormonal rant? Or are you serious? Are you really ready to leave him over a few side bets and beers?"

  "I don't know why he told you that."

  "He was out of his mind, Kim, bawling like a baby. What the hell happened?"

  Kimberley's heart ached, wishing her husband would show her raw emotion, the way he obviously still did with Lauren. “You know how it is. I'm just pregnant."

  "Talk to me, honey."

  "You don't want to talk about this."

  "Of course I do. Honey, I'm worried about you, about Bren."

  "Don't worry."

  "Too late."

  "Fine, let's talk."

  "Let's."

  Kimberley chewed her lip for a moment. “When you were with Brennan...” She brushed the sofa cushion, remembering the way Luke had held her there. “...what was he like in bed?"

  "I don't know, Kim. He was ... I don't know."

  "He's an animal when he fucks. Absolutely crazy."

  Lauren's brow knit, as if in confusion. “I should go."

  "That's fine. You don't have to say anything else. I know. My husband—kinky, dirty, ass-slapping—used to hold you afterward."

  Lauren reached for the discarded car keys. “Kimmy, really, this—"

  "I know I'm right. I'm good at interrogation. Opposing counsel used to dread me in that courtroom. By God, I was on my way. And this is what I left it for—an addict, who doesn't show me half the respect he shows his ex-girlfriend."

  "You left it for that beautiful treasure sleeping in your lap.” Lauren opened the door and stepped one foot out. “And don't you forget it."

  * * * *

  "Hey, Kimmy.” Brennan stumbled into the bedroom just after three in the morning. “Shit, you came back. Now I owe Rick five hundred bucks."

  Sitting on the window seat in the turret, she looked up from her dish of ice cream. “I'm sorry I left like that."

  "Love you,” he crooned with a smile and half-open eyes.

  "I love you, too."

  "Love my cock, too? Say it."

  She stifled a shudder and set aside her ice cream dish. “I love your cock.” There. Like a robot.

  "Can you feel it?” he asked, stepping out of his jeans, losing his balance, and thudding to the floor. He pulled himself up to his feet. “Want to?"

  "Of course."

  "Come feel it.” He meandered toward her, reaching into the fly of his boxer shorts, exposing his penis, and touching it to her lower lip.

  She turned out the light, led him to bed, and covered the tip of his penis with her lips.

  "Mmm.” Brennan pulled her hair as she eased him onto his back. “You may be a spoiled, fucking bitch who just lost me half a grand, but you give head like a whore.” He yanked again on her hair. “Like a whore."
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  "And Lauren?” She forced her way out from under his hands and removed her nightgown, her lips brushing against him.

  "She's nothing compared to you.” He shoved her head back into his lap and fell asleep almost instantly, but she worked religiously until he reached rock-hard. Imagining seven-and-five-eighths of pure man, she climbed on top.

  "Can you feel my cock?” Brennan mumbled in his sleep.

  She held on tight to the headboard, riding him deep and slow. Working her vaginal muscles against the rod, maneuvering it deeper and deeper, the way she'd learned. The way she used to like it with Jason. What she imagined Luke to be.

  * * * *

  Luke had returned from a late-night drive an hour ago, but he couldn't drift off. Diane slept next to him, and he stared at her in the dim light of their bedroom, remembering the days of glory they'd shared.

  The day they'd met, her golden hair had shimmered in the late-summer sunshine, and she had smiled at him, as if she'd been looking for him her entire life. He'd lain her down on the shores of Lake Michigan, burrowing his fingers into her, feeling her passionate response.

  God, he'd been crazy about her. If she'd let herself love him, would he love her still?

  Tenderly, he touched his wife's cheek, remembering the beauty he once found in her.

  She slowly opened her eyes and sighed in discontent.

  "I just want to look at you,” he whispered. “I won't touch you, I promise."

  She rolled away, depositing his hand upon her pillow. “I can feel her on you,” she said.

  "What?” A flitting glimpse of panic rose in his chest.

  "I know you're not thinking of me with that look in your eyes."

  "I was thinking of the night we met."

  "When you wonder why I don't lay down for you, it's because of the night we met and all other nights like it. God, I was so easy for you, wasn't I?"

  "I was easy for you, too, back then. We were kids, doing what kids do. Remember?"

  "I remember all right. I remember the sacrifices I made for you."

  "Caleb was a sacrifice for both of us, but I wouldn't change the way things turned out for anything."

  "What about for a blowjob?” She turned her chin toward him, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “Would you change it for a blowjob, Luke?"

  "Our son for a blowjob? What kind of a question is that?"

  "Don't worry. I know you don't have the balls to find the right woman to do it. Just remember what you sacrifice when you think about trying to."

  "Do you want me to go? Are you trying to push me away?"

  "I don't know."

  "Do you understand why I leave?"

  "What I don't understand is why you keep coming back."

  "Do you want this to work, Diane? Is it ever going to work, or are we killing time?"

  "I don't know."

  "Well, before we kill each other, do you think we can figure it out?"

  "I don't know!"

  "What do you want me to do? If I try, you turn your back on me. If I don't, you're offended. Tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

  "I don't know what you should do."

  "No, you know I should go to work. You know I should support you and the kids. You know I don't make half the money you wish I did, and you know I shouldn't bother you when I get the urge to love you in the middle of the night. What else do you know? What else should I do?"

  A cold stare settled on him. Not a trace of tears was present in her eyes, although he felt like bursting into waterworks.

  "I don't know.” She rolled onto her back, now studying the ceiling. “There's still water damage, from that leak in the roof last spring."

  He leaned over her and kissed her frigid lips, gauging her reaction, putting some effort into it, parting his lips.

  No response.

  He gathered her boyish nightgown with his fingers and caressed her stomach.

  She continued her staring contest with the ceiling.

  He worked his way up to her breasts, and bit into her neck.

  As if she didn't want to witness his next act, she closed her eyes.

  He worked a knee between her legs and bunched the nightgown above her scarce bosom, at her neck. He rolled his tongue over her nipples, covering every inch of her flesh with his mouth, and licked her down to her navel.

  Nothing.

  Slowly, he pulled off her underpants and nibbled gently on her clitoris. He entered her with his tongue and brushed her softly. She tasted sweet and ... pregnant. But that wasn't possible.

  She lay there, rigid and motionless.

  Still, he worked. There had to be something left in her. There had to be. He pulled her legs up and rested her thighs on his shoulders.

  She pulled the nightgown down to hide her breasts.

  He continued to eat, growing more aroused by the second, while she lay in boredom. He wrote the alphabet inside her with his tongue. Three times. Slowly. Come on, Diane. He hummed onto her, simulating vibration, caressed her up and down, inside and out, his hands and mouth working for a favorable response.

  Ready to take her by force, he backed away. There was nothing left in her; he'd been wrong to try to create what had dried up long ago. She avoided looking him in the eye.

  "Go ahead,” she whispered.

  "Touch me first."

  Nothing again.

  "Is it me?” he asked. “If you pretend you're with someone else, does it feel good? Did any of that feel good?"

  She didn't answer.

  "I don't want it this way. I want it, I want you, but not like this."

  She reached for her underpants.

  "Good night, Diane."

  CHAPTER 10

  A radio sounded outside. Kimberley, dressed in a yellow sundress, raised the kitchen shades and peered outside to see Luke's pickup truck parked in front of the fourth stall door. She quickly picked her jaw up off the floor and opened a window. “Hello."

  "'Morning, Mrs. Roderick.” Luke squinted into the sunshine, wrinkling his nose. “I don't suppose I can trouble you for a cup of coffee?"

  "No, you can't. I already have one man in my life who doesn't have time for me, and you're eight days late."

  "So is my wife."

  Butterflies kicked up like a tornado in her gut. “Late? As in pregnant?"

  "Look, I'm sorry I haven't called. Can I come in?"

  Suddenly dizzy, nauseous, and encompassed by a whirlwind of emotion ranging from anger to self-pity, she nodded and turned to unlock the breakfast room door. Luke wasn't supposed to procreate. He was supposed to spend his days with his hand against her baby, flattering her, and trying to hurdle his way into her bed.

  Where did he get off impregnating another woman, when she'd relied on him for the attention she couldn't possibly receive from the man she'd married? Brennan hadn't called to say he'd arrived safely at this week's office, or left a message with the number of the hotel, in case of emergency, as his replacement cell phone had yet to arrive. Damn it, she needed more of Luke; she couldn't share him with the three people he was obligated to, let alone with a brand new baby. She sat at the table, forcing her lower lip out of a pout, and dropped her head into her hands.

  "You all right?” He carried the scent of fresh-cut grass indoors with him.

  She willed away tears. “Fine."

  He took the chair opposite her and opened his hand; slowly, her hand crawled to his.

  "But Brennan ... Oh, never mind."

  "What did he do now?"

  "Long story."

  "I've got time for long stories."

  "Not this one.” At last, she raised her head. “When's she due?"

  "She hasn't told me yet,” he said, “but I know her schedule. I pay attention. And yesterday, I found the test in the trash. Positive."

  "Congratulations."

  The scar at his eye creased with his squint. “You aren't happy for me."

  "I should be, I know. It's just...” She took a deep breath and dabbed
at her eyes. “It's just horrendously bad timing."