by Sandra Hill
“Maybe.” Then she had the nerve to wink at him. “I’m just making sure you don’t escape this time.”
“Escape? This time? Damn, Paula, would you watch where you’re driving! You almost backended that car.”
“I’m not used to driving with one hand manacled to a prisoner.” She took the berm of the road at sixty miles per hour. Gravel was flying everywhere.
“I’m not your prisoner.”
“Think again, buddy,” she said, slanting him a seductive look, and yanked his chain.
“Ouch! That hurt.”
She zigzagged in one lane and out another. Car horns blared. But she was smiling with unconcern. “Do you want me to turn on the radio?”
“No, I do not want you to turn on the radio,” he gritted out. “Watch the damn road.”
“Tsk-tsk.” She took her hand off the steering wheel for a brief second and patted his handcuffed one. “Don’t worry. I’ve got everything under control.”
He closed his eyes, deciding it was better not to see. “Where are we going?”
She began to hum a soft tune, ignoring him.
He decided to ask the important question hammering away in his head. “Why aren’t you at the divorce hearing?”
She flashed him one of those woman looks. The one that said, “Men are so-o-o-o dumb.”
He decided to go with the flow and relax.
His eyes swept her body, assessing her for the first time. In a deliberately lazy tone of voice, he said, “You look pretty good in a uniform.”
“Yeah, I do, don’t I?”
She looked sensational. The shirt hugged her breasts, outlining hard nipples, and the pants gave a clear, enticing view of hips and buttocks. He shook his head hard, mid-thought, and looked again. Yep, hard nipples and no panty line.
“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he accused her.
She winked . . . again.
He almost swallowed his teeth. Especially when she just missed sideswiping a car in the next lane.
Then, completely impervious to the honking cars and cursing drivers, she smiled at him. And he felt warm and suddenly full of hope.
“The uniform does look good, but not as good as that black lace thingee,” he said, trying to disconcert her, the way she had him.
She blushed. “Teddy.”
“Teddy who?”
“Not Teddy who. It was a black lace teddy.”
“Oh.”
“I went shopping today.”
Big deal! My life’s falling apart, and she goes to the mall.
“I bought you some new underwear . . . to replace those yellowed, shampooed ones.”
“Oh.” He tried to sound bored.
“I know you don’t like bikini briefs, so I got boxers.”
Boxers? Hmmm. That sounds safe. Boring, actually. “Thank you.”
“In the daylight, they have NO imprinted all over them, but in the dark they glow fluorescently with YES, YES, YES—all over.”
“Oh.” Nick looked down and noticed a very unbored part of his body. He hoped Paula didn’t notice.
She did. And she winked . . . for the third time.
“And they’re silk.”
Uh-oh! What the hell was she up to? Before he had a chance to ask, Paula exited the highway into a residential area of Nutley. She drove confidently down one quiet, tree-lined street after another. He frowned in puzzlement. He couldn’t remember anyone they knew in this neighborhood.
And, hey, she’d better stop interfering with his hero plan. It was hard enough playing a knight in shining armor without her tempting him to haul her up onto his horse and ride off into the sunset, or something.
Stopping before a small Cape Cod with a white picket fence, she killed the motor, staring straight ahead, suddenly grave.
“I took the VW back to the dealer this morning,” she said suddenly, “and got my Volvo back.”
“What?”
“I decided you were right.”
Now, this is really interesting. Paula admitting I’m right about something.
“It isn’t a safe car for the city. Besides, you didn’t fit into it. And I want a car you can fit into.”
He was afraid to ask what she meant. Instead, he focused on their present situation. Waving his free hand to indicate the quiet street, he asked, “Now what?”
She gulped nervously. “I want to show you something.”
“I’ve already seen everything you’ve got to show.”
“Tsk-tsk!”
“Of course, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”
“Behave, Nick. I’m serious. C’mon, let’s get out.” She opened her door and pulled him along beside her roughly.
“Hey, slow down. You’re cutting off my circulation.”
He thought she said something about wanting to cut off a lot more than his circulation.
They were standing in the front yard of the house. A FOR SALE sign standing in the grass and the curtainless windows announced its lack of occupants.
“How about undoing these cuffs? That guy looks like he’s about to call the police.”
Paula turned to see a man walking his dog, gaping at their handcuffed wrists. “I am the police,” she muttered.
“Hah! And I’m Mickey Mouse.”
“If you’re Mickey, then I’m Minnie, babe.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out yourself, bonehead.” She undid the lock and was about to pocket the cuffs.
“Yoo-hoo! Oh, yoo-hoo!”
He and Paula both turned toward the dog walker at the same time. He came closer, and Nick couldn’t believe his eyes. The man sported gray hair spiked to a curly point on top, slacks pulled up to his armpits, and about four inches of white socks showing at the ankles. “Oh, my God, it’s the guy from the bookstore.”
“Really? The one who gave you the sex advice?” Paula asked.
“He did not give me sex advice,” he corrected.
“And is that his wife, Lorna?” Paula said.
Just then, Nick noticed the short woman with the orange curls springing all over her head. She wore a mini skirt and halter top with sneakers and bobby socks. And she clung to the old man’s arm, gazing at him adoringly, as if he were, yep, a knight in shining armor.
What is it with me and knights in shining armor today?
“Aren’t they sweet,” Paula cooed.
Nick looked at her as if she had a screw loose.
“Hey, good idea!” the old man yelled, pointing at the handcuffs. “Can Lorna and I borrow them later?”
“Oh, Fred, you rascal, you! You really are the bee’s knees,” Lorna simpered, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at her husband.
“Durn tootin’ I am.” Fred-the-lech beamed.
Yep, I’m definitely going off the deep end. Any minute now, Madame Nadine will come flying by on her broomstick, or her cloud.
“So, did you get the lead back in your pencil?” the old coot asked with a chuckle.
Paula giggled, and Lorna nudged her husband with an elbow. Nick just put both hands on his hips and glared at Fred with consternation. “I never had trouble with lead in my pencil.”
“Oh. My mistake. Guess you were lookin’ for new ways to gas up the old engine. Heh, heh, heh. Took my advice, didja?”
If Fred weren’t a senior citizen, Nick might have gone right over and belted him one. Paula latched on to his arm, just in case.
“Engines, huh?” Paula asked, “Did he recommend that book to you?”
Nick played dumb.
But Paula persisted, “You know, How to Make Your Baby’s Motor Hum When Her Engine Needs a Tune-Up?”
He felt his face grow hot. �
��Oh, all right. Yes, he did,” he snapped. “Now, can we drop it?”
Paula smiled and turned back to the couple. “Hey, Fred, not to worry! My motor’s humming just fine now.”
Nick made a strangled sound.
“We live next door,” Lorna informed Paula conversationally. Nobody paid any attention to Nick; he could be choking to death for all they cared. “We’re having a hot tub party next Saturday. Why dontcha come over, sweetie? And bring your hubby along.”
Hubby? Nick choked even harder, unable to spit out the words, “Absolutely not!”
“Maybe,” Paula said.
As the old couple walked off, waving, Nick turned back to Paula. Instead of laughing, as he’d expected, she was looking up at him in question, blinking nervously.
“Well, what do you think?” she said in a whispery voice.
“Of what? Those senior citizen sexpots? You being a police officer? Us being handcuffed? The weather?”
“The house?” she said in a small voice.
“The house?” That was the last thing he’d expected. He examined the building for the first time, and then, slowly, he began to understand. “Oh, Paula.”
“Don’t say no right off, Nick. I love this house. I’ve been looking at it for months,” she said defensively. “I . . . I want to buy it.”
His first reaction was to tell her to forget it. There was no security fence. The bay window in front would be an easy target for burglars. And Nutley was way too close to Newark and druggies out for quick money. But he saw the look of hope in her eyes, and he bit back his objections. “Well, let me see.”
They began to walk around the house, and he stopped at his first glimpse of the backyard. Oh, Lord!
“What?” Paula exclaimed, seeing the look of horror on his face.
“Look! Look at that!” The whole back fence was lined with sunflowers. Hundreds of them. Bobbing in the sunlight. “Is this a joke?”
“What?”
“The sunflowers. You planted them here to play a joke on me, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nick, what’s wrong? Why do you have tears in your eyes? Honey, don’t. I can live without this house if you don’t like it. It’s just a house. We can move somewhere else.”
“We?”
She tilted her head in confusion. “Of course, we. Did you think I would live here by myself?”
He wasn’t sure what he thought. He could barely think for the pounding of his heart. “Paula, don’t do this to me. Signing those papers this morning was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. I did it because I love you, and—”
“I know.”
“—I realize now that our divorce is for the best. I am obsessive. I have—what did you say? What do you mean, you know?”
She swung her right arm in a wide arc, like a windmill, and punched him in the stomach.
“Ooomph!” It didn’t hurt much, but it sure surprised him. “What the hell was that all about?”
“For leaving this morning without talking to me. Our biggest problem hasn’t been your obsession with my safety, you big lunkhead. Or my carelessness. It’s been your failure to communicate. And it’s going to stop right now, babe.” She jabbed a finger in his chest.
“It is?” He went still, hope unfurling in his chest like a giant balloon, choking off his air. He was afraid to believe what she seemed to be offering.
“Do you love me, Nick?”
“Of course.”
“Ask me if I love you?”
“I don’t have to ask. I know you love me, babe. That was never the iss—”
“Ask, dammit!”
“Do you love me, Paula?”
“More than life.”
He said a quick prayer then and hoped that Madame Nadine would wing it on up to heaven, first class.
Paula took a step toward him.
He took a step toward her.
“Nick?”
“Paula?” He held open his arms, and she jumped into them, almost knocking him backward. Bracketing her face with his hands, he studied her face, his eyes probing to her very soul. “Are you coming back to me?” His voice shook with vulnerability, but he was too frightened to care.
She nodded, and he kissed her hungrily, holding her tight.
She was laughing and crying at the same time.
He was laughing and trying not to cry at the same time.
“God, I should be noble and walk away. I should love you enough to let you go. I should be a hero. I should—”
“Be quiet.”
“Right!”
Tucking her into his side, he kissed her again quickly and began to walk toward the back door. “Maybe you’d better show me the inside of this place before we give the neighbors a show.”
“Wouldn’t this be a great place for all our cats?”
He groaned. He liked the sound of our, but then he exclaimed, “Cats! As in plural? No, Paula, uh-uh. Not in this lifetime. I mean, I’ve learned to compromise, but that’s asking entirely too much. Cats! Yech!”
“Now, Nick, don’t you think it would be kind of cute to name the kittens Sneezy and Grumpy and Dopey and—”
“Oh, great! Gargoyle and the Seven Dwarf-kits.”
She offered him a sweet, arresting smile, and he groaned again.
As they entered the kitchen, he said, “Now give me those handcuffs.”
“Why?” she asked, suddenly suspicious.
He looped his arms around her waist and grinned. “I just had another idea to satisfy your heart craving.”
And right there, on the kitchen floor, he did just that.
Epilogue
Five years later
Happily ever after and then some . . .
Nick walked onto the back porch of his Nutley home, noting that the kitchen door was open and unlocked. He shrugged, having lost that argument long ago.
“Honey, I’m home,” he called out, a smile in his voice. He couldn’t help himself. Even after all these years, he felt such joy coming home to his wife.
Four heads popped up.
Paula’s tummy was as big as the watermelon she was slicing on the new granite countertop installed last year when he had the kitchen remodeled for her. She smiled brightly at him in welcome. He knew without words that she felt the same joy on seeing him.
And his three little munchkins, two of whom, three-year-old twins Rita and Gloria, had been coloring at the kitchen table, yelled “Daddy!” and ran to be caught up in his arms, giving him sloppy little girl hugs and kisses. Was there anything sweeter than the smell of little girl skin? Nick wondered, except maybe hot wife skin? The third munchkin, one-year-old Anthony, sat in his high chair, flashing him a toothless grin, arms outstretched for Nick to pick him up.
Actually, it was six heads that popped up, for Gonzo and Gargoyle lay on their respective rugs on opposite sides of the kitchen. Gonzo, who was getting up in years, for a dog, lifted his head and gave a half-hearted “Woof-woof,” before returning his attention to the squeaky dragon toy he was guarding with his life. Gargoyle liked to steal the slimy fur thing and hide it when Gonzo wasn’t watching. Gargoyle turned to look at Nick, then resumed licking her fur as if to say, “Oh. It’s just you!”
Nick put the girls down and walked over to link his arms around Paula’s big bulk from behind. He kissed the side of her neck. “What’s for dinner?” And nipped her neck, letting her know exactly what he was hungry for. Always.
“You’re barbecuing,” she said, arching her neck for another kiss. She pointed to the large number of hamburgers, hot dogs, ribs, and foil-wrapped potatoes sitting on the counter.
“What? We’re feeding an army?” he grumbled.
“No. Just us. Skip and Lee with
their latest girlfriends. Kahlita and her new husband. Fred and Lorna.”
“That’s all?” he grumbled.
“No,” she said, turning to smile at him. A mischievous smile, if he ever did see one. “And our guest of honor.” She was staring over his shoulder.
Okaay! He turned to see Richard Casale standing in the doorway leading to the den. He wore his new plebe uniform from the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis where he’d just started training two months ago.
“Richie!” He walked over, extending a hand to shake, then thought better of it and pulled him into a bear hug . . . one which Richie had no trouble returning, really hard.
Nick leaned back to get a better look at the boy with his newly shorn hair. He was so proud of the boy and the progress he’d made from the street thug he’d rescued five years ago. A straight A-student with fifteen hundred on his SATs! He and Paula had adopted Richie four years ago.
Later that evening, he sat in a chair on the porch, rocking a sleeping Tony in his lap. He watched his family and neighbors and friends as they mingled and chatted, the girls having long gone to their beds. His heart filled almost to overflowing, and tears filled his eyes at what he’d almost lost.
He chuckled then as he noticed the sunflowers that still flourished here, lining the back fence with heads the size of hubcaps. A constant reminder that everyone had heart cravings that needed to be fulfilled. Even him. Even when they didn’t know what it was that they craved.
For him, it was love.
The End
(Please continue reading for more information about the author)
Tante Lulu’s Beignets
History: Beignets (pronounced BEN-yea) have long been a Southern Louisiana specialty, particularly in New Orleans where they were made most famous by the French Quarter’s Café du Monde. Best served with café au lait, especially for breakfast, beignets are considered the forerunner of modern doughnuts, minus the holes. Nothing more than fried pieces of raised dough sprinkled profusely with powdered sugar, the beignet has to be tasted to be appreciated. Tante Lulu loves to serve them to her guests.
