Steady (Indigo)

by Robinson, Ruthie

  “Katrina, it’s me, Aubrey.”

  “Hi, Aubrey. How are you?”

  “Fine, but I need some money. I need to find me another apartment,” she explained, rushing the words out.

  “Oh? What happened to the one you’ve been living in?” Katrina asked.

  “It’s Darnell,” Aubrey said. Katrina inwardly groaned. Darnell was Aubrey’s latest boyfriend, and trouble as far as Katrina thought.

  “What’s up?” Katrina asked.

  “Nothing, but Darnell brought this girl home about a week ago; says she’s his buddy’s sister and doesn’t have a place to live. He says there is nothing between them, but I saw them in our room when I got home from work last night. I need to leave.”

  Katrina was so not feeling this today. Aubrey was one of her more challenging customers, twenty-one going on fifteen, and sexually abused as a child. She had sued her abuser, a wealthy family member, resulting in the creation of a grantor trust for Aubrey. She had family, but they were useless, taking money from her, leeches on a good day.

  “I can’t stay here with them,” Aubrey declared.

  “Have you spoken to Darnell about it?” Katrina asked, now in her counselor mode.

  “I tried, but he got mad and left with her,” she answered.

  Katrina blew out a breath quietly, not sure what to do. She’d taken so many trips down this road with Aubrey, gone through too many boyfriends, homes, and animals, but she wasn’t feeling it today.

  “Are you still working?” Katrina asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So what do you want to do?”

  “I want her to leave,” she responded.

  “How should we go about that?” Katrina asked.

  “Would you talk to Darnell for me? He likes you, thinks you’re smart. He’d listen to you.”

  Katrina had met Darnell a couple of times and had thought at first that maybe he would be good for Aubrey. He’d seemed somewhat stable, more on the ball than some of the others.

  “I’ll call you again when he gets home. She goes to work at three, so she won’t be around. Try talking to him, please?” she pleaded.

  “Sure,” Katrina heard herself promising. “I’ll be here until five; call me before then, or it’ll have to keep until Monday. Okay?”

  “Thanks, Katrina,” Aubrey said and hung up.

  Of all her trust customers, talking to Aubrey left her feeling the most impotent. Aubrey had graduated from high school, but barely. Her skills were limited. She worked at a pizza place when she worked. She’d gone through two homes already, and the trust was not ever going to purchase another one. She’d left her prior homes damaged and unclean, and the cost of preparing them for sale had been ridiculous. She usually had animals, her true friends, she called them, living with her, and when she moved out of her last house, she left the animals there alone. Katrina had to dole out money for fines to prevent her from going to jail for animal abandonment.

  She was responsible for Aubrey’s actions, financially at least; the trust was ineffective at changing Aubrey or her choices. The sad part of it all was that Aubrey was a very thoughtful and sensitive girl.

  Katrina buried her head in work, hoping to get through the day and go home; she wasn’t up for much talking today. Two more difficult calls had come in—one from a woman accusing the trust of not helping her son meet his medical expenses. The mother had faxed over page after page of documentation that Katrina would have to sort through. Another customer was unhappy with the state of his investments. Aren’t we all, she thought. She was past ready to go home; it was close to 5:30 now, and way past time to jet.

  ***

  Katrina sat back, pulling her legs into her body as she fell back against the cushions of her couch, tired from work and emotionally exhausted. Four years ago today she had lost two people who’d meant the world to her, who’d loved her, who’d changed the course of her life. Looking back at that first year after their deaths, she hadn’t been sure she’d make it. Thank God for the godfathers and Lola. She was grateful to and for them. She knew her parents would be proud of her; they were then, told her so often. Would they be happy with her life now? Was she happy with her life now? Was working for the bank and gardening really all she wanted out of it?

  She used to want more, in that window between being an orphan and her parents’ death. Maybe C was right. Perhaps it was time to venture outside of her comfort zone. She could pursue her old dream of starting her own landscaping business, for starters. She had enough money saved to cover her for a while; more if she sold her home. The fact that she was sincerely considering it was in itself a promising sign. Oh, to move beyond hurt and to try again.

  She stood up and walked out her back door, heading over to Will’s garden, her new place of refuge, her garden away from gardening. She’d spent gobs of time over there while he traveled, her little secret.

  She hoped he wasn’t home, but didn’t really care tonight; she just wanted the solace that she found there in his yard, in his space, in the dark. She opened the gate and walked in, thankful for the lanterns to mark her way. There was a small light on a side table in the main room of his home, but she didn’t see him. Quietly, she made her way to her favorite spot, her secret chamber. She took a seat, finding as always the wood smooth and cool beneath her legs as she settled back, her back against the wall.

  The chimes above her head played a quiet melody in the stillness of the night, blending in with the symphony of sounds that played outside. It was peaceful here. She started to cry then, giving in to the emotion that this day always brought for her. She always gave herself a time limit to cry; just for a moment. No wallowing, Katrina.

  She cried for the unfairness of life sometimes, for herself and for people like Aubrey, who life had left wounded and on the sidelines. She cried for her inability to make it better, cried because sometimes life was difficult and that was just the way it was. She leaned back and let her tears flow.

  She hadn’t been there long, but a small sound caught her attention and she opened her eyes, wiping them with her hands. Will stood just outside the doors, watching her. How long had he been there? He was dressed in a T-shirt and warm-up bottoms, his feet bare.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked, wiping her eyes again with her hands, standing up.

  “Long enough,” he said quietly, watching her, his expression unreadable.

  “I’m sorry for sneaking in. Today was long and complicated. I hope you don’t mind; I needed quiet.”

  “No, I don’t mind. You’re always welcome. Did it help?”

  “Yeah,” she said, looking into his eyes, finding them still undecipherable.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “No, I’d just start crying again.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’d better go, I’ve borrowed your garden enough for one day,” she said, standing up and trying to smile.

  As she started to leave, his arm stuck out and wrapped around her waist. She stopped and looked up at him, taking in his eyes again, and this time she saw compassion and concern in them. He pulled her to him, wrapping both arms securely around her waist, pulling her close to his chest, one hand moving to the back of her head, holding her against him. Her arms moved and secured themselves around his waist and she let herself lie against his chest.

  It felt right being here; it was calming to be supported by someone for a while. He stood with her in his arms, not seeming to be in any hurry to let her go. She started to cry again, and he continued to hold her. How long they stood there like that she didn’t know, but eventually she pulled back and looked up into his face, watching it move lower until his lips captured hers in a soft and tender kiss.

  She kissed him back, taking her time with it. She softly explored his mouth, opening hers wider for him, moving her tongue in search of his. His breathing changed and his hands moved from her waist to cup her butt, lifting her, pulling her closer to his body. She moved her arms up to
surround his neck and held on for dear life, losing herself in his mouth, his strength.

  She felt movement. He was taking her somewhere. She just held on as he walked the few steps back to the seat, not breaking his kiss. He turned them and sat, pulling her to rest onto his lap, and continued his quiet offensive. One of his hands moved, trailing along her hip, making its way underneath her T-shirt.

  She jumped a little at the touch of his hand at her waist and followed the smooth movement as it worked its way up to capture her breast, gently rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned into his mouth and held on as he turned her body, trailing his hand slowly up her thigh. She moaned as he reached the juncture of her thighs. He went still for a second, giving her time to recognize his intentions.

  She held her breath, removing her mouth from his, placing her face in between his shoulder and chin as his hand found her spot and those wicked fingers began to play with her.

  “I . . . Will . . . wait . . . oh, don’t stop,” she pleaded. Before she was ready, she came, quick and strong. She gripped his shoulders, pushing her face into his neck as he held her, allowing pleasure to work through her system, pulling another moan from her and leaving a calm in its wake.

  She turned her body into his, pushing herself against him, her mouth now seeking his again. He felt so good. Her lips locked on to his, and she moaned at how good his mouth felt. She moaned again and kissed him harder. She moved her hands underneath his shirt to feel his hard stomach before they traveled lower.

  She moved her body so that she straddled him now, legs on each side of his, resting on her knees. Her mouth moved deliberately over his. Her hands moved to the top of his sweats and rested there for a second, giving him time to recognize her intentions. She moved them slowly, first one and then the other, underneath his sweats, moaning again into his mouth at the strength she found there. Her body went lax as she wrapped her hands around the part of him she’d admired from the backyard.

  She just held him for a second, and then her hands began to move, starting at the tip, before both sliding slowly downward—she didn’t want to waste this chance—and then up again. He moaned. She could come to love that sound. Her mouth continued to feast on his as her hands loved him, moving up and down. God, he felt good, so smooth and strong; she adored the feel of him, so much better than any dream.

  “Katrina,” he said, pulling his mouth away from hers, his breathing ragged and harsh.

  No, don’t do that, she thought and went back in search of his lips. Ah, there they were. She’d found them and kissed him again, his tongue no match for hers.

  “Katrina,” he said after a minute. “You have to stop.”

  Up and down her hands moved, picking up speed. He moaned low in his throat and Katrina pulled back, wanting to watch him. His hand joined hers, she thought at first to stop her. But maybe not . . .

  “Katrina, you, have, to . . . ahh,” he said, his hand now gripping hers tightly. He began to help her move up and down. He fell back against the wall, his eyes closed. His face was slightly damp, making his hair cling to his face. He was so very sexy, and she watched him as his climax built.

  He blew out a breath, a quiet hiss, pulling her hands from inside his sweats quickly to place them on top, pushing down hard as he came. He moaned, so low she barely heard it. She watched as his climax showed on his face, looking like pain, his face twisting a little, his back lifting a little from the wall.

  She went in search of his mouth again, still holding on to him, her hand still trapped under his. She felt small final shudders run through him before she pulled back. She watched as his chest slowed down and his breathing returned to normal. Her hands were still trapped in his. He was still for a time before he released them from his death grip. She pulled them back and stood up. He gave a big sigh and his eyes popped open to stare into hers, scary in their intensity.

  “I didn’t expect that,” he said.

  “Me neither,” she said.

  She sat down next to him, looking over at him as he sat, staring ahead into space. After a time, he asked, “You okay?”

  “Yes, you?”

  He laughed quietly. “Yes, very much so.”

  “This is the anniversary of my parents’ death, and, as much as I try, I’m never prepared for it when it comes,” she said.

  “I see.”

  “I get scared a little without them here. I was used to being on my own, before them and the godfathers. I’d learned how to deal with that. They came along and showed me something different and I thought, okay, I can work with this, but then I lost them, too. It was hard getting started again, and this day reminds me of that,” she said, looking over at him, watching him shake his head in acknowledgment.

  “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time. I’d better get home,” she said, standing. “Thanks for letting me use your space here,” she said, that comment inadequate to describe what had just happened between them.

  “See you later,” she said, walking out through the doors and then through the back gate. He remained seated, letting her go, leaving him with an indelible mark on his heart.

  ***

  “Uncle C, Colburn,” Katrina called out in greeting the next morning as she entered their home. It was early, before six in the morning, and usually they could still be found at home, drinking their morning coffee and eating whatever one of them could scrounge up. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night.

  After leaving Will of the talented fingers and enigmatic expression behind, she hadn’t known what to do with what had just happened. She needed time to replay and process, replay and process, her mind twisted, no idea what she wanted to do next. Her body wouldn’t settle down or lie still, either, so she quit trying at about 4 a.m., deciding she needed some godfather time.

  “Colburn,” she called out, hearing sounds coming from the kitchen. She walked through the living room and into the kitchen to find Uncle C pouring coffee into two mugs while the television sat on the counter, blaring out the morning news.

  “Hey, Uncle C,” she said. He turned at the sound of his name, giving her a smile, welcome and love in his eyes. She almost started crying again.

  “Well, how is my favorite goddaughter this morning?” he said, his smile growing in size.

  She so needed this. “I’m your only goddaughter,” she shot back, thinking she would never ever grow tired of hearing his affirmation of her place in their lives.

  “You’re up early,” he said, standing next to the coffeemaker at the counter near the sink.

  “I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d come over to help around here,” she said.

  “That boyfriend of yours giving you trouble?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes roaming her face.

  She walked over and opened the cabinet, took out a mug, and walked to stand next to him. He reached for the pot and poured some into her cup. She turned and opened the refrigerator, searching for the creamer that she purchased and kept in stock here to cut the mud that passed for coffee in this house. The godfathers would never dream of drinking anything that wasn’t absolutely black in color.

  “No boyfriend, just wanted to see you and Colburn,” she said.

  “Yesterday pass okay for you?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. She turned her eyes to him.

  “Yes,” she said, leaning her head onto his chest.

  “It’ll be okay, Kat,” he said, his arm going over her shoulder.

  “I know,” she said, lifting her head. “You guys had breakfast yet?” she asked, stepping away.

  “Nope, but feel free to cook,” C said, and she laughed.

  She sat her coffee down and pulled out the ingredients for breakfast. She put a couple of slices of bread into their toaster. “Do you two want bacon this morning?” she asked.

  “Of course we do. And not that turkey bacon stuff,” Colburn said, walking into the kitchen and kissing her cheek.

  Katrina walked over to the refrigerator, grabbing turkey ba
con and eggs, ignoring Colburn, and placing them on the counter. She found the skillet and arranged the bacon in it. She put six eggs in a bowl and began to scramble them. Colburn and C took their coffee and sat at the table, watching her and exchanging looks.

  “So how is that boyfriend of yours?” Colburn asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, but if you’re referring to Will, he’s fine. We have done quite a bit of work on the garden. I’m impressed with him; he works really hard, and is more knowledgeable than I had given him credit for,” she said.

  “Katrina’s boyfriend is a hard worker,” Charles said.

  “He seemed pretty tough to me. He didn’t let you intimidate him or push him out of the competition,” Colburn said. She opened another cabinet and took out plates and silverware and set the table. She walked back to the stove and picked up a fork.

  “You two must think me tougher than I am; trust me, I’m not that tough,” she said as she removed the bacon from the stove and cooked the eggs.

  Colburn and Charles sat at the table, waiting for her to finish. She removed the last of the toast, placed it on a plate next to the bacon, and put it on the table. She stirred the eggs once, then scooped them into a bowl, and put them on the table. She led the way with grace; she kept it short and sweet so she didn’t lose her audience.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said.

  “That could be trouble,” Colburn said, interrupting and giving her a wink.

  “I’ve been giving some thought to a career change. I could start out small, maybe take on some small landscaping jobs. I’ve done it for free in the past. Maybe after the competition I could take on small paying jobs build up a business the way you two have. You’ve always encouraged me to start getting paid for what I do. I’m sure you’ll be happy that I’m finally coming around,” she finished, finally looking at them.

  Two serious faces studied her.

  “You were right the other day, C. I used to want more for my life. I think it’s about time I started owning it more. I didn’t use all the money after Mom and Dad died; I put most of it in savings. That could be my seed money, plus I could sell my home and take an apartment until I get it going.