“One night is all it takes,” sighed Joan. “Jean became pregnant. She wouldn’t hear of getting an abortion. “
“But why didn’t she get in touch? I could’ve helped her,” said Byron.
“She was a free spirit,” said Joan. “She didn’t ask for anyone’s help, sadly.”
Declan shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“My mother committed suicide when I was eighteen months old.”
“That’s when my husband and I adopted him,” added Joan.
“Christ,” said Byron, reaching for another large shot of whiskey. After it had been poured, Joan put the bottle away.
“Some of the things you said, like being a bad boy, triggered an association in my mind,” said Joan. “Plus that bizarre feeling that we knew each other. A couple of times you’d look at me in a certain way. It would remind me of Declan. So,” she continued, “I thought there’s only one way to find out. After your dinner here I saved your fork for DNA then found a sample of Declan’s hair from when he was a child. It’s a match.”
Declan was speechless.
“So not only do I have a son, I have grandchildren?” slurred Byron as the words sunk in.
“Yes,” said Joan. “Two of them. Jack and Camille. The twins.”
“And I…I have a father.”
Declan had a million questions including wanting to know how Joan and Byron met. Joan explained about the bookstore and Byron asking her for coffee. She told him about the baseball game and the art gallery.
“So, let me get this straight,” said Declan. “You two are together?”
Byron and Joan looked at each other. Byron placed his hand over Joan’s.
“Your mother is a wonderful woman. I’m falling in love with her.”
Joan inhaled sharply. He'd said it again, even thought he was now clearly smashed.
“My mother and my father are sleeping together and falling in love, falling in love and sleeping together,” said Declan. “This is truly fucking weird. I’d also say…”
“Yes, what?” asked Joan nervously.
“I’d say it’s going to take a lot of getting used to.”
“Son,” cried Byron, stumbling towards Declan and giving him a bear hug. “Son!”
Joan thought Byron was about to cry. She was relieved to see he was a sentimental drunk not an aggressive one. Still she felt cause for alarm at his drinking.
When Byron began to sing ‘Danny Boy’ inserting ‘Declan’ in place of ‘Danny’ she told him firmly it was time for bed. Byron agreeably put his arms around Joan and Declan and let them help him upstairs, singing all the way, until he collapsed on the bed and began to snore.
In order to avoid a media circus, Declan and Elizabeth held their spring wedding in Joan’s back garden. Elizabeth held Byron’s arm as he walked her up a makeshift aisle of red carpet. Byron had been true to his word. Having endured a massive hang-over he’d returned to A.A. and hadn’t touched a drop. The twins, Jack in a white tuxedo, and Camille in a white organdy dress proudly carried the rings. As she passed Effie, Elizabeth winked her friend who was holding hands with Jimmy Mack. Effie had persuaded him to come over for the wedding and had been complaining about the difficulty she’d had walking ever since.
Elizabeth felt elation. ‘Rags ‘n’ Beats’ magazine, in it’s third issue, was a triumph. She now had a Byron Sparks original photograph of her scar on the wall of her house. Declan’s new single ‘The Lights of Elizabeth Bay’ was making its way up the charts. Nothing in her life could be any better. She was finally becoming Mrs. Declan Thomas.
***
Feeling sun-kissed and sleepy from champagne, Elizabeth curled up on the king-sized bed of their honeymoon suite in Akumal on the Mayan Riviera. Declan emerged from the shower, toweling his hair dry. He was erect and as hard as she’d ever seen him.
“I see you’ve got something for me,” she teased.
“Yeah,” he said flopping down on the bed beside her.
“What do you think?” he asked, stroking himself.
“I think I might like to suck you.”
She rolled over and took him tenderly in her mouth, delighting to hear his moans of pleasure.
“I’ve got some wonderful stories to tell you,” she said.
Declan pushed her back on the bed, staring into her luminous green eyes.
“I’ll bet you do Mrs. Thomas. You’ve got the filthiest, most delicious imagination in the world. And I want to hear every one of your fantasies, but save them for another time.”
“Really?” said Elizabeth. “How come?”
“Your fantasies are hotter than hot. They really turn me on. But in a fantasy, you’re in charge of what happens.”
“Yes.”
“Tonight,” he said, running his tongue over her stiffening nipples, “tonight we’re going to create a new fantasy…together.”
####
About the Author:
Discover Titles by Susan Ferrier-MacKay:
Butterfly of Venus published by HarperCollins (digital North America)
Dragonfly of Venus Page 26
