by Kim Pritekel
- panted. "Oh, Denny," Rachel whimpered, the sting of hot tears behind her eyes at the powerful orgasm that had just overtaken her. She covered her eyes with her arm, trying to get her heaving chest back under control. "Shit."
* * *
"What? Are you okay?" Hannah took her hand away, Denny's thighs closing, the brunette turning away. "Denny? What happened? Did I hurt you?" She saw the brunette shake her head.
"No." Denny felt foolish, but couldn't allow Hannah to continue making love to her when all she could see was Rachel's face, her body craving the blonde's touch, not the woman who had just been inside her. Sitting up, she covered herself with the sheet as she reached to the end of the bed for the tank top that had been taken off moments before.
Hannah moved to her side of the bed, the bitter taste of rejection in her mouth. "I'm trying to make this work, Denny," she said at length, unable to look at her partner.
Denny was being consumed by guilt and confusion, her constant companion over the past couple months. She could hear the bitter hurt in Hannah's voice, which made her feel even worse. Denny was ashamed at what she said next, her guilt morphing into anger. "Why? Do you feel obligated?"
Hannah was stunned, her mouth falling open as she watched Denny rise from the bed, snagging her panties from the floor. "No! Because I love you. I missed you."
"Did you?" Denny glared accusingly at her from the doorway of their bedroom, then disappeared into the darkened house.
Hannah sat stunned, wondering where the hell all that had just come from. Her stomach began to somersault as she glanced toward her closed closet door, wondering-.
Denny ran her hands through her hair as she stared out of the window in the guest bedroom, her body still humming with adrenaline and un-sated arousal. "What am I doing?" she whispered, hating herself for allowing her own tempest of emotions to let her speak before thinking. Hannah hadn't deserved that.
"Shit." Tugging her panties on, she was about to head back to the bedroom to apologize when she almost ran smack into Hannah. "I'm sorry. That was a real asshole thing to say."
"Yeah, it was. I died that day, Denny, and how dare you question that. But you were dead, and I had to learn how to live my life without you." Hannah felt the hurt and anger that had been building over the past two months rise to the surface. "I'm assuming you were referring to Tiffany?" Denny said nothing, having no idea if that was the woman's name or not. "If I'm wrong and it was just an ugly remark, then yes, there was someone. I fought it, unable to let you go, but then I realized that I had to. Tiffany never had my heart, but she was good to me, and helped me get through the most difficult time of my life. Your death!" She slapped her hands on Denny's upper chest, her anger and grief beginning to trail down her cheeks. "Don't you dare judge me, just like Joni. You have no idea what it was like for me. None!"
Denny allowed Hannah to let it all go, even took the slight beating she was taking, finally grabbing Hannah by the shoulders and pulling her to her. Her heart broke at the woman who was falling apart before her. For the first time, she was able to really see what Hanna went through, and she felt like an asshole.
"Shh. Don't cry. I'm sorry." Blue eyes slid closed as Hannah cried against her, grabbing fistfuls of Denny's tee shirt, clinging to her. "I'm sorry." Denny kissed the side of Hannah's head, cupping the back of her head and rocking her slightly.
"Why did you have to go, Denny?" Hannah cried, finally able to take out her anger on the woman who spurred it. "Goddamn it, why did you have to get on that fucking plane? We were happy! Fuck!" Hannah pushed away, hurrying from the room as realization dawned- it was over. Suddenly she saw it all clear as day. Denny had known, almost from the very beginning. Hannah had been holding onto a ghost.
PART 17
JENNIFER'S BROWS DREW, resting her hands on her thighs as she took a closer look. She brought a finger up, ticking each fish she saw off with a stroke to the air. Only counting nine, she began again, moving around to the side of the tank, then the other side, looking for the elusive number ten.
"Hey, Dad?" she called, moving back to her starting position in front of the aquarium.
"Yeah?" Michael walked into the living room, dishtowel in his hand, where he and Conrad had been washing and drying the dinner dishes.
"We're missing Rusty."
Michael bent down, grabbing the small green net from the storage compartment under the fifty gallon tank. He brought his own finger up, counting the air as he squinted into the shipwreck half buried in the white and blue rocks covering the bottom of the tank.
"Where you at, little guy," he muttered, sticking the net into the water, waving it around to try and shoo the angel fish out of hiding, if he was hiding.
"You don't think it got caught up in the filter, do you?"
"Hope not." He waved the net around again, both groaning when the body of the fish floated up from where it had died and settled. "Aw, that sucks," the mechanic muttered.
"Conrad," Jennifer called out, still gazing into the tank. "Your fish died."
"What? Which one?" the teen asked, stepping into the room.
"Rusty," Michael supplied.
"Figures," the kid snorted, voice dripping with angry sarcasm.
Michael stood, turning to face his son, who was eyeing him suspiciously, stomach churning at what might come out his mouth this time.
"Why would I think you could keep a fish alive."
Jennifer yelped, hands covering her mouth as her brother hit the floor, their father standing over him, hand still stinging. "Don't you ever, ever say anything like that again," he growled, trying valiantly to hold his temper in check.
Jennifer watched in shock as her father stepped over the prone boy, slamming out of the house, followed quickly by the slam of his truck door and roar of the engine.
Stunned and thoroughly disgusted, the girl looked at her brother, who was starting to pick himself up. "You little bastard," she hissed. "How dare you say something like that to him." She felt tears of rage and grief flow down her face.
Conrad got to his feet, feeing sick to his stomach at what he'd just said to their father. His jaw hurt as he adjusted it, and deep same suffused his face. He didn't know why he'd said it, it had just kind of slipped. Now Jenny was mad at him, and she was the last person he wanted upset with him. In a lot of ways, he felt she was all he had. When they thought both their parents were dead, he and his sister had gotten very close while living with their grandparents.
With a heavy sigh, he went to his room, closing the door behind him.
Michael pulled into Stuffy's Bar parking lot, shifting into neutral, and slamming the heavy metal door behind him. The small bar, which he hadn't been to in over five years, looked as it always had- small, smoky and the cheap beer flowing. Everything seemed to stop as he walked in, all eyes on him. He wasn't in the mood for excitement or for folks to get all up in arms cause he was alive, surviving some crash.
Ignoring the attention, he took a seat at the bar, ordered a cold one. Once the mug was in his hand, he took a sip, closing his eyes as the liquid slid down his throat. Opening them, he stared at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, stroking his trimmed beard with thick fingers. Why did Conrad hate him so bad? What had he done to deserve that? Michael carried enough guilt over Melissa's death. The fact that his son blamed him for that hurt almost as bad as though Melissa had slid off the wing all over again.
Running a sandpaper-like hand over his face, Michael's head fell, staring down into the amber liquid of his beer, unsure what to do. Maybe it would be best for everyone involved if Conrad went back to live with Meredith and Walter.
Funnily enough, as he sat there, his family from the island popped into his mind. He thought about Pam, wondering what she would do in a situation like this. Michael actually smiled at the thought; no doubt she'd pop the boy into next week. Which made the mechanic think about what he'd done. Never had he struck his kids like he had. Conrad had dropped immediately, Michael's hand still hurt from it. He broug
ht his hand up, looking at it, spreading out his fingers before slowly curling his fingers into a fist, noting the reddened skin. His luck, he'd get back to the house to find a police officer waiting for him. Not like he wouldn't deserve it.
Michael sighed again. Opening his wallet, he removed the two folded Polaroid's, straightening them out flat on the bar. In one was Rachel, Dean and Mia, all three smiling into the camera, just before leaving Duke's house to head home. Dean stood in the middle, grin huge as the two girls flanked him, an arm around each of their shoulders. The other picture was of Pam, Denny and himself, in a similar pose, though Pam was sitting in a chair between the others. He looked at all the faces, all six of them, a smile creasing his grizzled features. It amazed him just how much simpler life was when they'd been on the island. He wouldn't give up his kids again for a moment, but couldn't help but wonder how everyone else's lives were going. With any luck, smoother than his.
* * *
"Will this work? I know it's not exactly the Taj Mahal, but it's warm and dry. And private."
Denny looked around the tiny room. To one side were stacked boxes, filled with old paperwork that needed to be shredded. On the other side was a foldout sofa and small breakfast nook, replete with dorm fridge and wet bar sink.
"This'll work, Joni." She nodded, imagining her meager belongings stacked in the corner- all six boxes of them.
"Okay. Well, I need to get back downstairs, so if you need anything, just holler." Joni gave the dazed woman a firm hug, then left her alone, her footfalls fading as she scurried down the steep staircase that led to the sidewalk, right next to the entrance to Mile.
Denny blew out a breath, hands in her back pockets as she walked around the small space- all seven steps of it. There was one window on the wall where the boxes were stacked. She grunted quietly as she pushed it open, determined to get rid of a bit of the mustiness. Window opened, Denny turned back to the room, running a hand through her hair. She had slept in the guest bedroom the night before, though sleep had been a joke. Over a barely picked at breakfast, she and Hannah had decided that perhaps too much water had gone under the proverbial bridge, and it was time to call it quits. Hannah had cried, which had inevitably tore at Denny's heart, but they both knew it was for the best. To make it as easy on Hannah as possible, she had waited until the researcher had left for work, then had loaded up what was left of her belongings in her VW van, given Joni a call, and had left a note behind.
Flopping down on the couch, grimacing at the boing of an unhappy spring, the brunette buried her face in her hands.
* * *
"Hello, my friend!" Reenie took the blonde into her arms, hugging her tight before releasing her, moving aside so Rachel could enter the loft. "Is this all you've got?" she asked, indicating the backpack slung over the blonde's shoulder.
"Yep. Light packer."
"I guess. Come on in. Beth's here."
"Oh, great!" Rachel had met Reenie's actress friend a time or two, always thinking she was a beautiful talent.
"Well, it's great to see you!" Beth Sayer's said, standing from where she'd been lounging on the couch. She walked over to the author, wrapping her in a warm hug. She smiled warmly down at her. "What a great thing to happen to a storyteller, huh?" she teased with a wink.
"You have no idea," Rachel chuckled. "It's good to see you again, Beth. In town for a show?"
"Yeah. Got about two weeks left, then I'll be out of this one's hair." Reenie waved her off.
"Sooooo," the editor purred, nodding toward Rachel's laptop, tucked inside her backpack. "you finished?"
"Yep." Rachel grinned proud. "Martin has it, so you should be getting it soon." Rachel flopped down on the black, leather couch, Beth sitting next to me, taking up the blanket she'd been wrapped in before. "He's looking to get this thing out by the two year anniversary, in June."
"Of the crash, or of the rescue?" Reenie asked, handing both women a cup of coffee, then cuddling on the loveseat with her own mug.
"The crash- June 5."
"Ah, so the media hound strikes again." Reenie was still angry with her employer for sending the dogs after Rachel. It had taken the author to disappear, closed up in a mountain cabin for five months, to give her some privacy and a chance to bounce back. During that time, she'd written, what Reenie thought, was her greatest work.
"So are you coming out of self-isolation? Reen tells me you were in Beaver Creek."
"Sure was," Rachel said with a huge grin.
"It's beautiful up there."
"You've been there?" the blonde asked, relaxing into the corner made by the back of the couch and the arm. She wrapped chilled fingers around her mug of coffee. Beth nodded.
"I grew up in Pueblo, not all that far."
"No kidding? I didn't know that."
Beth nodded, sipping from her own mug. "Yes, ma'am. I haven't been back in some time, though."
"Does your family still live there?"
"My mom."
Rachel could tell that was a conversation perhaps best served by a change of subject, noting how Beth's eyes fell, her shoulders stiffening. "I've actually been puttering around Oregon again, looking to buy a house. I'm ready to head back home."
"Well, good for you." Beth smiled, her entire face lighting up. Rachel, who hadn't seen Beth in a few years, was struck all over again by the woman's beauty. She found it funny- since she'd accepted her attraction to Denny, she'd realized that she had always looked at women in degrees of attractiveness. She didn't gauge them in comparison to herself, as she knew a lot of women did, but rather as to what sort of character they'd make. Now, after everything with Denny, she had to wonder if it were perhaps more accurately, in degrees of how they'd be for her. "So what's your next novel about?"
Beth's voice shook Rachel from her thoughts, making her blush slightly as she looked away. She missed the amused gleam in blue eyes. "Well, I'm actually considering something dealing with Pompeii and the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 A.D."
"God, doesn't that require more research?" Reenie asked, resting her head against her closed fist. Rachel nodded vigorously, eyes twinkling. Reenie rolled her eyes. "I don't get it."
"A woman with a brain- it's sexy," Beth grinned. She caught the warning glare Reenie sent her way. Don't worry, Reen. I know, hands off.
Rachel blushed again.
"I saw your Island Six on TV the other day," Reenie said, stretching her legs out, resting her crossed ankles on the coffee table.
"Really?" She had Rachel's attention. She'd been purposefully avoiding television and any newspaper articles about it. She didn't want to see Denny. She already saw enough of her in her dreams.
"Apparently Dean has taken up the cause of the environmentalists." Rachel stared at her, stunned. Reenie chuckled, amused. "Yep. He's become the lawyer for WorldWin. Quite the little prize fighter, from what I'm hearing."
"I'll be damned."
"Have you kept in contact with anyone?" Beth asked standing to refill her coffee, bringing the carafe back to give anyone else a warm up.
Rachel shook her head with a heavy sigh. "No."
"Why not?" The actress sat back down, tucking her bare feet under her body.
"I don't know, to be honest. I think a lot of it is because I had so much to deal with when I got home. Hell, everything just kind of-"
Beth nodded in understanding. "Who knows, they may have been able to give you the support you needed."
"Probably, and in retrospect, undoubtedly. I don't know," she sighed, mind focused on a single image. "I think I needed to get on with my life without memories of what happened." She looked down at the mug, which she slowly turned in her hands. Beth studied her movements, then glanced at Reenie, who shook her head slowly, as if to say "Don't ask".
"It's probably best, hon," she said, reaching over to squeeze Rachel's arm. The blonde smiled, though it was forced. Beth watched the interaction between the two women, and when blue eyes focused on the author again, she saw it plain as day- long
ing. She knew that look well, and knew the heartbreak that went along with it well.
Interesting.
"Beth, would you help me for a second?" Reenie asked, getting to her feet and snagging Beth's hand as she walked in front of the couch.
"Uh, sure, Reenie." Beth rolled her eyes at Rachel, who chuckled. "What?"
Reenie waited until the swinging door of the kitchen had swung safely shut, then turned to her friend. "Listen, Beth, I saw the looks you were giving Rachel in there. I know she's a beautiful woman, but don't even-"
"Reenie?"
"-think, huh?"
"Shush. Do you really think I'd do that to your best friend?" Beth crossed her arms over her chest, more amused than offended. She saw the shame suffuse Reenie's face. "Listen, Reen, yes, she's beautiful, and well, hot as hell, but something happened on that island, didn't it?"
The editor looked up, dark eyes surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not stupid, and I'm not blind. There's someone on that island special to her, isn't there?" Beth's eyebrow raised in challenge, daring Reenie to deny it.
The dark-haired woman sighed, running a hand through her short hair. "I can't talk about that, Beth, I'm sorry."
"I understand. It's just," Beth looked down at the tile, nudging at the pattern with her toe. "I know that kind of sadness and loss. I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe I can help her."
"Don't!" Reenie's voice was quiet so Rachel wouldn't overhear, but firm "She's confused enough as it is."
Beth studied her face for a moment, then nodded, the barest hint of the corner of her mouth curling up. "It was a woman, wasn't it?"
"Goddamn you, Beth," Reenie fumed, "How do you read me so goddamn easy?"
Beth threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, honey. You're priceless."
"Uh, ladies, if you'd like to talk about me some more, I will happily leave so you can do it in the comfort of the living room." Two stunned pairs of eyes stared at Rachel, who had poked her head in through the door. "Honest, guys, I won't break."
