Late Fall

by Noelle Adams

  “Yeah. Oh, yeah.” He smiles at me. “Thank you.”

  I smile back. “You’re welcome.”

  I nestle against him and let him recover, and after a few minutes, he’s kissing me again and stroking my back.

  “Do you want to try?” he asks. “I want you to enjoy this too.”

  “I am enjoying it. You have no idea how much.”

  His hand slips back under my gown. “Maybe you can enjoy it even more.”

  I don’t actually know if this is true, but there’s no reason not to let him try. I love how it feels when he kisses me. And when his mouth moves lower, to nuzzle my breasts, it feels just as good. And when he caresses me over my underwear, it still feels good.

  Deep and warm and slow and good.

  I’m breathing deeply, unevenly, and I’m making more of those silly noises that clearly feed his ego. My joints are aching but not enough to get in the way of the pleasure.

  I’m starting to think we might actually have some success when the phone rings.

  It’s so surprising and so out of context that I don’t immediately recognize it, but it keeps ringing until it pierces the haze in my mind.

  “What the hell?” Dave grumbles.

  That’s about how I feel too, but I check the caller to see that it’s one of the staff phones. It’s just after seven in the morning.

  “I better get it,” I say, pulling away from Dave slightly. “It might be important.”

  The caller is Charlotte. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I hope you weren’t still sleeping.”

  “No. I wasn’t. What’s the matter?”

  “We’re having some trouble finding Dave. Do you know where he is?”

  I feel a weird clench in my stomach. “What?”

  “Dave. I guess Kevin has been trying to call him and can’t reach him, so he came over, but Dave isn’t in his room. Do you happen to know—”

  “He’s here,” I say, since there’s no way to deny it. “He’s with me.”

  “Oh, good,” Charlotte says, not sounding the slightest bit surprised or disapproving. “That’s a relief. Kevin is here now, and he’d like to see him, if that’s possible. Do you think …” She trails off.

  I glance over at Dave. “Kevin was evidently worried, so he rushed over here to make sure you’re all right. He wants to see you.”

  Dave makes a face.

  “I can tell him no,” I say, almost hoping that’s what he’ll decide. I hate the way the call has interrupted such a private, intimate time between us.

  Dave groans. “No. I better see him, or he’ll be a pain.”

  “Well, if you don’t want to talk to him now—”

  Dave is already rolling out of bed. “It’s not worth the trouble.”

  Okay. Well, there’s that.

  I tell Charlotte that Dave can see Kevin, and then I get out of bed myself, stretching the tension out of my muscles and pulling on my robe.

  I’m going to look in the mirror to make sure I’m presentable when there’s a knock at the door.

  That was quick.

  I open the door, and Charlotte is there looking sheepish, with Kevin just behind her. He’s frowning. I can tell he doesn’t like the idea of my having spent the night with his stepfather.

  I want to shake the disapproving look off his face, but that’s obviously not something I’m allowed to do.

  Dave is beside me, and he gives me a quick kiss before he walks out into the hall where Kevin is.

  Charlotte says softly, “I’m sorry about this.”

  “It’s fine. And it’s not your fault.”

  I look over to Dave, but he’s walking away with Kevin.

  The whole thing feels different now. Not special and private and intimate. Kind of tawdry and awkward.

  It’s not rational that the whole thing should change in my mind that way, but it has.

  I get dressed and manage to get to the dining room in time to have some breakfast. I sit with Gordon, who is as friendly and solid as always.

  I don’t enjoy my toast, fruit, and yogurt, though. I keep wondering where Dave is. Everyone who passes by my table asks, and I have no real answer for them, other than the fact that his stepson came by.

  I hope that Kevin isn’t being too nasty to Dave. I wish he would just go away and leave him alone.

  A bad family isn’t better than no family at all.

  I’m returning to my room when Dave calls, asking if I want to walk. On cooler days, we’ve been walking in the late morning anyway, so I agree.

  The sky is starting to clear, and it’s becoming a decent day.

  Dave looks kind of distracted when I join him. He kisses me, but only in a quick, unfocused way—like it’s just a gesture. He’s never kissed me like that before, and I don’t like it.

  It’s not that I believe I always have to have his devoted attention. I’d just rather him only kiss me when he means it.

  I ask him if everything is all right, and he gives a noncommittal answer that concerns me. I don’t press him, though, and we walk in silence until we reach the bench.

  Wet, dead leaves are covering the sides of the path, and they strike me as incredibly depressing. Just a few days ago, those leaves were vibrant with color on the trees.

  “What did Kevin want?” I finally ask when we’ve situated ourselves on the bench. The sun is high in the sky now, and the warmth feels good on my face.

  “He called several times last night and thought something had happened, so he rushed over this morning when he still couldn’t reach me.” Dave’s face shows no expression, but I know he doesn’t like for people to see him this way—as someone unable to stand on his own.

  I don’t like it either. I guess there are some people who like to be coddled, but for the rest of us growing old is a constant fight for self-sufficiency, to be like we were before.

  “Maybe he was worried.”

  The nastier part of my brain wonders if maybe he was hoping that something serious had happened and Dave was on his way out.

  I try to smother that side of myself. I don’t like her.

  “I guess.”

  “What’s the matter?” I ask after another minute. Dave isn’t looking at me, and he hasn’t tried to touch me, so I know something is wrong. That isn’t like him at all.

  He shakes his head.

  “Why can’t you tell me?”

  When he still doesn’t answer, I frown at him. “Didn’t we have a discussion yesterday about how we’re together now, and so holding out on each other isn’t right?”

  He turns his head now and meets my eyes, reluctantly. “He’s moving—out to Virginia Beach, where the rest of the family is.”

  I know it’s unworthy, but my very first reaction is pleasure, relief. “Oh. Wow. When is he moving?”

  Poor Charlotte will be crushed, but maybe it will be better for her in the long run.

  “Next month.” Dave clears his throat. “He wants me to move too.”

  “What?”

  Dave looks away. “He does.”

  “He expects you to move all the way out there? Why? Why would you do that?”

  “So I can be close to the family. Everyone will be out there then.”

  “But that’s ridiculous. You’re settled here. You’re happy here, aren’t you?”

  He’s looking at me again, his expression slightly cool, as if he doesn’t appreciate the question. “Of course I’m happy here.”

  I can suddenly see that he might do it—no matter how much he’d prefer to stay. He doesn’t put up a fight, not with his family. He’s resigned himself to letting them walk all over him because he’s so afraid of having no family at all.

  He’s going to do it. I can see it all now, with that clear sense of the future I sometimes get, grown sharper with age and experience. “Then why would you think about leaving?”

  “What makes you think I am?”

  “It sounds like you’re considering it.”

  Naturally, I’m thinki
ng about me. How sad and lonely I’ll be if he leaves. But I’m also thinking about him. He won’t be happy there—not the way he’s happy here.

  “Of course I’m considering it. I just haven’t made a decision yet.” He sounds grumpy now, and he’s frowning down at the path, where a few wet leaves are scattered. “It would be nice to get some support.”

  So now I’m sad and scared and angry too—angry that he’s whining about my not fussing over him when it feels like my whole life is about to fall apart. “Well, I’m sorry. I’m not going to support you if you’re just going to let those stepchildren take advantage of you like that.”

  “What do you mean, take advantage of me?” His shoulders have stiffened in a way that doesn’t bode well.

  “They take advantage of you. They bully you around and expect you to give them money. They probably only want you out there so you can spend more money on them while you’re alive.”

  The words are bitter, and I know I shouldn’t say them. I know it. I can clearly see what Dave’s reaction will be—I’ve known it all along, which is why I’ve been holding my tongue.

  But sometimes you think a thing so often that eventually it has to be said.

  He stands up abruptly, glaring down at me with a coldness I’ve never seen in him before. Then he just walks away.

  Of course he’s angry with me. I understand exactly why he is, even though I’m convinced my words were fairly accurate.

  Accuracy doesn’t always matter. I’ve just attacked his pride and his judgment and the closest thing he has to a family—all at once.

  He might not put up a fight, but he’s not going to sit next to me after I do it.

  twelve

  Sometimes arguments are minor things that are forgotten the moment they’re over, but sometimes they aren’t.

  Sometimes they last a lot longer than they should.

  I sit on the bench for a long time, stewing over Dave and Kevin and the whole situation. Then I start to feel bad about what I said, so I stop by Dave’s room to apologize.

  He’s not there. A nurse coming out of the next room tells me that Dave went on the day trip to a nearby waterfall, which left a few minutes ago.

  Well, fine. If that’s the way he wants to be, then I’ll just give him some space. It’s not like I want to hang around him constantly anyway.

  I wish Marjorie were still here. I suddenly miss her like crazy. Feeling glum and restless and sad, I call up Beth, who invites me to have lunch with her. She’s getting a manicure afterward, and she takes me along.

  I feel better after lunch and a manicure. Dave will be back after dinner, and then everything will be fine.

  Except Dave doesn’t pick up the phone when I call him in the evening.

  He’s pouting.

  I decide I’ve made enough efforts for the day. If he wants to be an adult about it, he can contact me. I go to bed and read until I’m tired. Then I fall asleep.

  I can’t help but think about how Dave shared the bed with me last night. I can’t help but think about the way we were together this morning.

  But I know how life works. It’s always been the same. Never let yourself think daydreams are coming true, because the real world will just catch up with you—usually come crashing down around your head.

  I don’t sleep very well, and I wake up early. At least the sky is clear as I wrap up warmly so I can sit on my patio drinking tea and watch as the sky starts to lighten.

  When it’s light enough, I decide that there’s just enough time to make it to the bench and back. I was taking walks in the mornings long before Dave came around. I’m not going to change everything just because he’s angry with me.

  Feeling determined, I get dressed, putting on a jacket because the air is still nippy. It will be lovely this afternoon, with the cool air and warm sun, but the sun isn’t high enough yet to do much warming.

  When I get in sight of the bench, I stop abruptly.

  Dave is sitting there.

  I’m tempted to turn around and go back, but that’s a silly, petty gesture. I try very hard not to give in to such impulses. I don’t always succeed, but I try.

  I walk slowly over to the bench and sit down.

  Dave has been watching me since I got into sight. I can’t tell from his face how he’s feeling this morning.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” he says at last.

  “I always come.”

  He nods, his face softening just slightly.

  It’s enough. I was the one who said something wrong, so I’m the one who should apologize. “I’m sorry. For saying that yesterday. It wasn’t nice, and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

  He lets out a breath, and it looks like the tension is blown out of his body with his exhale. He reaches out to pull me against his side, wrapping his arm around me. “I’m sorry too, sweetheart.”

  He’s never called me that before. He’s never called me any sort of endearment. I like it.

  I like it a lot.

  “What are you sorry for?” I place my hand on his chest, over his heart. He’s wearing a lot of clothes—T-shirt, sweater, jacket—but I can still feel his heartbeat on my palm.

  “For being an ass about it.”

  I smile, and he wraps both arms around me in a hug.

  I hug him back, feeling safe and secure and happy in his embrace.

  He might not be as strong as he used to be, but he’s strong enough for me.

  I hope I’m strong enough for him too.

  “Let’s not fight anymore,” I say, pulling away enough to look up at his face.

  He’s smiling, as if he’s feeling something similar. “Agreed.”

  I’m not sure that I should ask the question right now, since it will bring back up a difficult subject, but I really need to know. “So what are you going to do about Kevin?”

  He makes a face. “I don’t know.”

  “Is he really pressuring you?”

  “Not really.”

  I don’t know if this is true or not, but I don’t question it at the moment. “I’d hate for you to leave,” I say, feeling rather vulnerable as I say the words, but saying them anyway.

  His eyes are very tender on my face. “I’m not going to leave you, sweetheart. Surely you know that. I love you.”

  My breath hitches in my throat, and it takes me a minute to process that he’s actually said what I think he’s said. “You do?”

  “Of course. Didn’t you know that?”

  “No. I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, I do. I love you.” He’s still holding my eyes, and his expression has become questioning, expectant.

  “I love you too,” I blurt out, since I know it’s true and I know I need to say it.

  His face relaxes palpably. “Well, good.”

  “It is good.”

  “I agree.”

  So we’re back to saying silly things, but I figure it’s all right. He kisses me, slow and soft, and then he adjusts us so both of his arms can hold me comfortably.

  He said he’s not going to leave me. That’s more of a relief than I deserve.

  We sit together for a long time, the sun finally starting to warm up the air, the trees, the world.

  Then I say absently, “I had a terrible night.”

  “So did I. I hardly slept at all.”

  “You should rest this afternoon,” I say, thinking that he does look rather tired.

  I don’t like him to look tired. I don’t like him to look anything but healthy.

  I’m suddenly terrified that he’s over seventy-five and doesn’t necessarily have a lot of years to live.

  The same is true of me, of course, but that doesn’t bother me nearly so much.

  “I’ll rest,” he murmurs, stroking my hair, “if you rest with me.”

  “Okay.” I smile, staring out at Valentine Valley.

  We do rest together that afternoon—in my bed. We actually do take a nap, followed by some leisurely kissing and caressing.
/>   We both have a very nice time.

  I make an appointment with the doctor for two days later.

  I want to have sex with Dave if it’s a possibility for us, but I’m worried about it being uncomfortable for me. Maybe some lubricant is all I need, but I’ll feel better about getting some medical advice first.

  I’m half excited and half embarrassed when I return with lubricant, a prescribed cream, and some good advice.

  It’s not like I’m going to jump Dave now that I have the necessary provisions. But at least it feels like it’s a possibility.

  Dave has asked me to go with him to the symphony on Friday night, so maybe that will be a good time for us to progress.

  It’s a strange week. Sometimes I feel a bit like a teenager, all jittery and excited about something that feels entirely new. In general, our routine this week is what it always has been. We walk in the mornings—after breakfast now because it’s getting cooler—have our meals at normal times, and do some of the planned activities. It’s not like I’m thinking about sex every minute of the day. That would be far too exhausting for me. But it does feel like I have a little secret that makes the everyday routine more exciting.

  I do make a point of not having a lot of overblown fantasies. I’ve always been realistic, and I’m quite sure, when we finally get to do it, it’s not going to be perfect.

  And that’s just fine for me. He loves me. I love him.

  I never thought I’d be in this situation at my stage of life.

  On Friday evening, I spend a lot of time showering and dressing before we leave. I wear a black satin skirt and a silk top that drapes nicely over my curves. I wear my best string of beads—gold alternating with lovely ruby-colored stones.

  I just know tonight is going to be wonderful.

  He comes to my door at exactly six thirty, wearing a black suit that makes him look very distinguished. He has a bouquet of roses for me.

  I’m feeling quite giddy and am trying to talk myself down from it as we leave the residence, driven in a Town Car he hired for the occasion.

  We go out to dinner first, and then we have excellent seats for the symphony. I know he must have spent a lot of money on this outing, and fortunately both of us seem to be enjoying it a lot.