“Please come inside the house so we can sit down and at least talk about this,” she motioned for the girl to enter the door. “This is not the place to discuss something of this nature, Wayne. Calm down and move so she can step inside.”
The cold darkness caressed the outdoor world leaving the three of them inside the growing, awkward, quietness of the house. Large blue cups containing hot coffee, and one tall glass of soda filled the hands around the table. But the quietness lingered around them like a heavy anchor, holding that big surprise at bay. Christine had excused herself once more to get some of her famous cinnamon rolls from the freezer to the microwave. They’d always been Wayne’s favorite, ever since the first day they’d met in the bakery that one late evening, and she hoped the sweet cinnamon smell would take down his edge a little bit. Shaking the walls he built up a mile high.
It was quiet in the living room. Quiet as in a fox hole. If someone dropped a needle against the wooden floor it could be heard from miles away.
“Here you go, please take one. Warm and gooey just like you prefer them, Wayne.” He wasn’t moving an inch in his chair and his strong fingers were still locked hard around the blue ceramic in his hand. If he just squeezed that hand a little bit harder Christine was afraid he might just break the porcelain in two. The tight hold made the usually so warm tone of his skin turn his knuckles pure white, pale against the blue cup. The other hand was creating slow, continuous strokes over the unshaven parts of his chin.
The young girl staring down into her tall glass of soda across the table let her left hand travel along the tabletop until it grabbed a warm bun then bit into the oozing sweetness with satisfaction. “These are very good, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. In fact, I happen to be working as a baker downtown and I brought these over here not too long ago and placed them in the freezer for Wayne. Something sweet to enjoy when he comes home from long shifts at work. They’re his favorite, I’ve been told. Right, Wayne?”
His face hadn’t moved. Without the slow movement of his hand across his face she might have taken him for a solid stone statue, simply sitting there in the chair, with eyes deep in thought or away somewhere else, while staring at the young girl sitting across from him. He stayed silent for a long time until his stroking hand slowed to a complete stop on his now slightly rosy skin. Without taking his eyes of the guest he brought up the cup to his mouth at the pace of snail and downed a big gulp, the sound echoing throughout the room.
“What’s your name?” His dark tone shook the small person in the opposite chair.
The young girl stopped chewing and placed the half-eaten bun next to the glass on the table.
“Mary.”
“That’s a very religious name. Doesn’t surprise me knowing Lucy.”
“Wayne, come on. That wasn’t very polite. A lot of people are named Mary, it’s a very common name,” Christine’s voice cut him off, but he never took his eyes away from the girl whom he couldn’t quite place.
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“How did you say I know your mom?”
“Well, she never told me who my dad was until I found her diary after she passed away, and your name was in there. A lot.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m your dad, though. She might have just liked me a lot. We…” The sentence died off as soon as it started, leaving the two women around the table to look up from their drinks and wait for him to continue.
“Yes?” Christine said, urging him to finish what he started.
“You see, Mary,” his eyes were darting between the two women, “we only… slept together once, and we used protection.”
“Do you want me to leave, Wayne?” Having finished her cup, Christine stood, leaving the conversation to die once again.
“No. No, please stay. Believe it or not, it would be easier if you stayed. Would you, please?”
She smiled and let her hand move slowly across his upper back as she went back to the kitchen to refill her cup. As she rounded the corner, Wayne leaned across the table, and with a low voice got Mary’s attention.
“Just so you know, I’m demanding a paternity test, because I’m not sure I’m buying this shit.” The moment his sentence finished, he leaned back, and Christine walked back into the room.
“What just happened? Mary, are you okay?” From the moment she’d left the room Mary seemed to have shrunk a few inches down into the chair and her eyes looked as if they might burst in tears at any second.
“Wayne?”
“I just said I needed to see that diary, and have a paternity test done. Right?” His arms lay crossed over his broad chest, as his eyes drilled into Mary’s.
“Yes,” she faintly whispered before pulling her sweater more snug around her tiny body.
The conversation didn’t give the impression of leading any further, and after Wayne had eventually excused himself from the women still sitting down around the table, Christine had motioned for Mary to take the spare bedroom for the night, just until morning when things had to be discussed in more detail and they were all rested, in hopes Wayne may be less aggravated from the shock of suddenly becoming a parent.
Chapter Nineteen
Wayne’s body was already hiding under the sheets in bed when she closed the door quietly behind her. “Do you want me to stay the night, Wayne, or would you prefer me driving home?”
His burly body sat straight in bed like a joker erupting from a box. “Stay, of course. I can’t fucking deal with a fifteen year old stranger who thinks I’m her dad. Are you crazy? What if she’s some crazy lunatic deciding to stab us in the middle of the night, burn the house down, or something else? We have to sleep in turns.”
Her hands were already on his shoulders, sitting across from him on the bed. “Your shirt is soaked; you’re sweating like a boxer.”
“Fuck yes!” he hissed, and swiped her hands off of him. “I cannot be a dad. I slept with Lucy one single time when I was nineteen and she was seventeen, and we didn’t tell our parents because, you know… the age thing.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. How can you possibly understand? How can any woman understand? As a man you have sex with someone, you protect yourself the best you can, and then you’re off. Who knows how many other women will have children showing up on my doorstep in the future.”
“Wow,” she huffed. “You just confessed to being a man-whore, Wayne. Perhaps you shouldn’t sleep around so much?”
“A bit too late with the lecture, thank you very much,” he whispered and pointed across the room to the wall from where they could hear water running from Mary using the bathroom.
“Are you pregnant too, just not telling me? Is that how you women work? Just using us men for sex when you’re aroused and then you send us unknowingly off out into the world.”
“Oh, stop it,” her head shook. “You’re starting to lose it, and nothing good will come out of insulting me. Why don’t I just leave and you can deal with yourself tonight. Call me tomorrow.” She pushed herself back on the sheets and off the bed, but his hand grabbed her arm, and pulled her across the bed and into his arms.
“I’m sorry, please don’t leave. I know I’m losing it, but I have no idea how to deal with this. Help me, please.” His eyes were deep pools of sheer desperation but she had nothing else to give him but her care and concern. She wrapped her arms around him, and held him as tightly as she possibly could, just to feel his chest move a little slower with each minute ticking by on the clock hanging on the wall.
“Lie down with me,” he whispered into the fabric of her shirt, still covering her body. “I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight anyway, and without you here I’d probably just wander this room in a circle until my feet fall through the floor and you’ll find them peeking out through the ceiling when you walk in the house tomorrow morning.” He held her tight. Clinging on for dear life.
“Let me get up and brush my teeth, and put on
something else. I’ll be back in a second.”
“No. When I said ‘don’t leave’, I meant ‘don’t you dare leave this bed right now’. Don’t leave my side. You’re my anchor for survival right now.”
“But Wayne, I…”
He’d already pulled her with him as he fell back down on the now cold sweaty sheets, Christine now half across his chest. His legs tangling around hers creating a vine of limbs; making it impossible for her to escape. “Anchor,” he whispered. “Anchor.”
He turned slightly and buried his face in the nook of her neck, the side of her face resting on top of his, and locked both his strong arms around her, holding her tight, tight, covering them both with sheets in his state of anxiety.
With the smoothness of her hand she leisurely stroked the back of his head, his short hair scratched the inside of her palm. Eventually the strength of his hold around her loosened somewhat and her hand came to a complete stop through his dark strands of short hair. Her eyes found it hard to see if he was asleep in the shadows of the room, but she decided to move herself away from him, trying not to wake him up.
She sighed and decided using a toothbrush could wait until the following morning, and tried to close her eyes and find comfortable part of the pillow he slept half upon. But with jeans too tight, and a bra tugging into the softness of her flesh, she knew she wouldn’t get any rest until she had taken them off.
Without moving his arms, she tugged at her shirt and eventually got it up over her shoulders and in a rolled up ball tossed it aside on the floor, unhooked her bra, gave it the same treatment, and with the help of her feet scooted out of her jeans and tucked them in a pile at the end of the bed. When she turned to reach behind herself for another pillow his arms slowly came to life and pulled her tight against him once more. This time his face made sure to situate itself between her breasts, then his mouth released a slight sigh as he gave one of her breasts a slight peck and nuzzled his face back between the two.
“Really, Wayne, now?”
His head nodded in silence, but all she could feel was the scratch of his beard tingle sensitive spots across her breasts.
“Just stop moving around between them and everything should be fine. This is not the time for sex, okay?”
A few seconds went by and she placed herself comfortably in the bed with a pillow under her head, his arms locked in an unbreakable chain around her, his face still flanked by two ample breasts. Then she felt him move.
“Just let me cuddle you for a while. It definitely makes me think of other things than this evening’s event, and I’d rather have you on my mind than thinking of what tomorrow might bring. Just… let me play a little, take my mind off things.”
“Sounds like you’re using drugs.”
“If so, I’d like to be high on you all the time. These boobs have magical powers,” his mouth found her nipple and tasted it. “And tonight I’m going to let them win over me.” As his hands slowly caressed the skin of her naked back, his mouth found plentiful spots for his lips to wander. His mouth warmed her skin, making her breasts feel larger and heavier if possible, placing open mouthed kisses over each nipple, until his face grazed the gap between them again and at the end of her sigh he laid down to sleep.
Damn it, she thought and cramped her thighs together, now he made it impossible for me to fall asleep.
Chapter Twenty
“I’ve made an appointment this morning,” he coughed and looked down at his watch. “In thirty minutes I’ll see my doctor for a paternity test. Will you be okay here with her?” His head nodded slightly to the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, “or do you think it’s better if we rent her a room or something?”
Christine wrapped the robe she’d brought over a few weeks ago a bit tighter around herself, tying the red fleece fabric with a tight knot of the belt. “Will you be alright going to the doctor by yourself? If not, I’ll make sure she has somewhere to stay while I go with you.”
“No, I’d rather do this myself. I just wanted to ask to see if you’d be willing to hang with her until I come back, it probably won’t take long. I’m still on the fence if I believe this, and I’d prefer you to be somewhere around other people. Maybe take a trip into town, just don’t tell people who she might be. Please.”
“Right,” she answered and looked over his shoulder at the clock on the wall by the fireplace. ”I’ll figure something out. I might have to go into work though for a few hours.”
“Good idea, you can bring her over there, and if things get weird my buddies at the station aren’t too far away, and you might have customers coming in.”
“It sounds like you think she’s some kind of axe murderer instead of your possible daughter. Oh no, I’m sorry. Calm down, breathe, Wayne, breathe.” The moment her mouth had articulated the possibility of the young girl sitting on the other side of the wall being his long lost child, his eyes had grown larger than golf balls, his breathing slightly erratic, and to keep himself standing he grabbed hard at the kitchen counter and stared down on the floor between his hands. No vomiting was at least a plus.
“Just go,” she said softly, caressing his back growing wet from sweat pearling down his spine. “The faster you get this over with the quicker you get the results back. I got this covered for now. Just go, you have a ways to drive. Here are your keys.”
Through the window she watched him step into his truck, and then noticed him halt for a short second and look back over his shoulder and meet her eyes. “Just go,” she mouthed back through the glass and watched him back out of the drive way and continue down the road until the height of the hill had swallowed the sight of the car and she was alone in his house with the young stranger. A stranger they’d still welcomed into his house last night, not only to talk, but to stay until morning.
She’d been awake most of the night, cursing herself for convincing Wayne to let the guest sleep in the bedroom just down the hall. Sure, her backstory sounded convincing, and she knew things about young Wayne that only someone from his past would have known. If she wasn’t his daughter, at least she must have known Lucy very well. Well, enough to recite parts of Lucy and Wayne’s romantic past, scoot old photos of the young couple across the table last night, not to mention having Wayne’s old high school football team’s sweatshirt he’d let Lucy borrow one chilly evening when they’d just started dating. Her looks were those of her mother’s, not more than her eye color resembled Wayne.
But an axe murderer, Christine thought, that might have been an exaggerated idea. Could she be crazy? Sure, but she knew about crazy. She had many times been close to round that dark corner of turning mad, and sometimes she wasn’t quite sure if she was back from those sinister shadows herself.
* * *
“Hi.” The lock of the door clicked almost silently behind him as he stepped inside the entry hall, leaning against the door behind him as it shut.
“It’s late. I wanted to call to see how you were doing but I figured you needed some space. Mary is already asleep upstairs. So, how did things go, and forgive me for asking, but what on earth took you so long?” Christine’s hands grabbed harder around her robe, the exhaustion and stress of the day spreading goose bumps across her wrapped up body.
“The drive was long,” he said with a sigh and tossed his jacket on the closest chair in the hallway. “And I think I must have stopped at least three times at the side of the road going there, even ended up being a tad late. Thank God we live where we do, otherwise there would have been a very large amount of pissed off drivers behind me. I couldn’t even hold an average speed limit.” His words turned into another sigh and he shoved off his boots using just his feet, leaning against the wall. The dirt was clogged underneath the heavy soles and to save time and energy he left them in a pile on the floor, and moved passed Christine in the hallway until he reached the couch and fell backwards onto the fabric, engulfing him in warm comfort. His eyes were closed as she reached his side and sat down on the coffee tabl
e across from the couch.
“I know you’ve been drinking,” she said quietly. “Because the house smelled like nothing but whiskey and cigarette smoke as soon as you came inside. You should be lucky you didn’t have an accident on the road, or Brody cuffing you and taking your car away during one of his stakeouts along the highway. Wayne, you could have hit someone.”
A solemn nod was his lone answer, until he opened his bloodshot eyes and focused on something on the other side of the room.
“If I stopped three times on the way there, you can probably double that number going back home, with a bottle of whiskey tucked between my thighs while driving. My last stop got me out of the car to take a stroll down by the river bend, you know by the dirt parking lot among the trees, by Wilfred’s Creek. I downed the last of the bottle there, until it was a sliver of brown liquid at the bottom of that bottle, and then I threw it down in the water. Must have missed a step or two on the way back to the car, and before I knew it the ground came up and hit me in the face.”
“It’s been dark for a while now, Wayne, and you’ve been gone for,” she looked up at the clock on the wall, “sixteen hours.”
“I passed out. I remember seeing the sun starting to sink above the horizon, might have been around six o’clock or so. At least I’m here now, not that it would have bothered me to have slept in the dirt all night. No one comes around to that place anyway, except Brody.”
“And did he?”
His eyes closed once more and he took a deep breath, “Yes.”
“You mean that Officer Brody, your best pal, protector of the law, a stick so far up his ass it must be hard to walk, didn’t take you home, and let you drive in this condition without putting you in the slammer? I find that very hard to believe.”
“What time is it now?”
“Almost eleven-thirty. It’s almost midnight, Wayne.”
“That gave me about four or five hours to sober up somewhat, and have tons of coffee shoved down my throat. I’m not quite sure when he showed up at the parking lot. Maybe he saw my car and wondered what the hell I was doing. As I said, no one stops there anymore.”
Once Upon A Killing (A Gass County Novel Book 2) Page 11
