Protecting Abigail

by R. R. Banks

  After dessert, Xavier guides me off the roof and back to the limo still waiting in the parking deck. We climb back into the car, and I settle back against the leather, not even tempted to ask where we are going next. I know he won't tell me. I don't want him to. For the first time, I am enjoying being surprised, and I don't want the fantasy to end.

  When the car stops again, I realize Xavier has brought us to a trendy nightclub. I let him take me into his arms in the center of the dance floor, where I melt against his strong chest. He holds me close to him, his firm arms wrapped around me, and I breathe in the masculine smell of him. The music blends into one constant stream of sound around us, and I don't know how long we've danced before he finally takes my hand and leads us back to the car. This time, it weaves lazily through the streets back to the apartment building. Xavier thanks the driver and escorts me inside. I lean against him as the elevator brings us up to his floor, and he wraps his arm loosely around my waist when we walk into the apartment.

  The clock chimes two just as Xavier closes the door and locks it. He turns to me with a smile.

  "See, it worked," he says.

  "What worked?" I ask.

  "My ploy to stay up all night without you realizing it," he says.

  I laugh.

  "Yes," I say, nodding. "It worked perfectly." I sigh happily, feeling the adrenaline of the night starting to slide out of me. "I guess I should go change," I say.

  He nods, and I make my way back to the guest room. I don't want the night to end yet, and as soon as I walk into the bedroom, I know Xavier already planned for it to continue. A pair of white cotton pajamas, a pink robe, and slippers sit on the bed.

  Xavier steps up behind me, and I turn to look at him.

  "Just in case you wanted to watch a movie to round out the night," he says. "You can take a shower if you want to. There are new toothbrushes in the bathroom. Whatever you need to get comfortable and relax."

  I smile and nod.

  "That sounds perfect."

  He walks away, closing the door, and I walk into the attached bathroom. Undressing and carefully hanging the dress up again, I take a fast shower and brush out my hair before using one of the new toothbrushes I find in the drawer under the sink. Feeling clean and refreshed, I walk back into the bedroom and slip into the pajamas. I tie the robe around my waist as I make my way toward the living room, finding Xavier already sitting on the couch. His hair is wet, and a fresh, invigorating smell surrounds him.

  "You look happy," he says as I sit beside him.

  "I am," I say. "That was a wonderful night. Thank you."

  "Of course. You deserved a special night."

  "It was amazing. How did you plan all that?"

  "It helps when your company owns the restaurants. And the buildings you're landing on."

  "And the helicopter?"

  "And the helicopter."

  I laugh and shake my head.

  "What?"

  "I just can't imagine the world you live in."

  Xavier looks at me, his eyes burning into mine, and I feel my heart skip a beat.

  "You can't?"

  Chapter Twelve

  Xavier

  Even in the simple pajamas and robe, with no makeup on and wet hair, Abigail is absolutely beautiful. I want to get closer to her. Touch her. Holding her in my arms when we danced earlier caused my feelings for her to roar to the very front of my mind. I can't pretend I don't feel it anymore. I can't deny the emotions rushing through my heart and mind, and the need pulsing through my body. But I force myself to stay cautious and patient. I want to close the space between us, but there's something behind her eyes – a hesitation – that I can't ignore.

  "What is it?" I ask. "Is something bothering you?"

  "No," she answers, but pauses again.

  "What is it, Abigail? What are you thinking about?"

  She meets my eyes. She looks reluctant, already worried about the words that haven't even come out of her mouth yet.

  "Anna asked about her mother a few days ago."

  I feel the muscles throughout my body tense, and I draw in a breath, letting it out slowly.

  "What did she ask?"

  "If I knew what she looked like."

  "What did you tell her?"

  "That I didn't know. That I didn't know her mom and had never seen a picture of her. " She tilts her head to look into my face even as I look away. "Why hasn't she seen a picture of her?"

  "She never knew her. Why does it matter if she's seen her?"

  It hurts more to think about Anna asking about Helen than I thought it would. I decided a long time ago not to keep pictures of her around, and not to show them to my daughter. I used to tell myself it was because I thought it would hurt Anna or make her wish for something she could never have. Now, I wonder if I was doing it for myself.

  "It's her mother," Abigail says. "No matter how long she's been gone, that’s still Anna’s mom. She wants to know what she looked like, and she probably would love to know what kind of person she was. Everyone deserves to know where they came from, and learn about that connection. Even if they end up regretting what they find out. It should be their choice.”

  I know she's right. Anna's gotten to the age where she understands that her situation is different than most children. Especially now that she's spending more time with other people her age and has started to interact with other families, it must have occurred to her that she leads a different life than they do. She sees the mothers taking their daughters and sons to ballet class, lessons, and playgroup. She sees mothers with their children and pets at the park. It's not that she is constantly surrounded by two-parent households and thinks it should always be that way. I happen to know she is spending the night tonight with Susie, whose parents divorced four years ago. Somehow, though, seeing a child without its father doesn't have the same impact as one without their mother. Anna feels the loss, even though she was too young to ever know anything different.

  "I hoped that I would be enough for her," I groan.

  "You are enough, Xavier. You give her more love than many children receive from both parents combined. Her wanting to know about her mother isn't a comment on your parenting, or how much Anna loves you. She just wants to know who she is. Her mother is a part of her, Xavier, and nothing can ever change that. I'm sure it hurts to think about her, but you can't let that stop your daughter from knowing where she came from, and who her mother was."

  There are a few tense moments of silence, and I don't know how to fill them. Abigail stands up.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  "I think I should go," she says. "It's really late."

  She starts toward the door, but I wrap my hand around her wrist gently. I don't want her to feel afraid or coerced, but I also don't want her to leave.

  "Stay,” I say. “I want you to stay with me."

  "Xavier, I don't think that’s such a good idea."

  "Why not?"

  "I had an amazing time tonight. I really enjoy being with you. But we don't really know each other. We have too much baggage. As long as we’re both controlled by the past, we can't move on to anything else."

  "You're right," I say.

  Abigail looks surprised that I've agreed with her. She stares at me for a few seconds, then settles back down onto the couch. My hand is still wrapped lightly around her wrist, and I let it fall away, my fingertips trailing along her palm as I do so.

  "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," she mutters. "I shouldn't have brought it up. We were having such an amazing night. I should have left it alone."

  "No," I say. "You're right. Ask me whatever."

  "Tell me about your wife," she says. "What was her name?"

  It's such a simple question, but even offering that most basic of information feels impossible for me. I haven't said her name out loud in so long, it feels foreign on the tip of my tongue. It feels especially strange to say her name to Abigail. But when she looks at me with thos
e wide, deep eyes, I implicitly know I can trust her.

  "Helen," I say. "We started dating in high school."

  "What happened to her?" Abigail asks.

  "When she and I were dating and first married, before she was pregnant with Anna, we used to spend a lot of time at a lake house my family had owned for generations. I loved spending time there when I was younger, and I introduced her to the property pretty early in our relationship. It became somewhere we really enjoyed being together, and after Anna was born, we were really looking forward to bringing her to see it. We couldn't wait to take pictures of her in all the places we had taken pictures of ourselves throughout our relationship. Helen had a vision of this scrapbook she wanted to make that would show us when we first started dating, and then early in our marriage, and then with Anna as a baby. She said we could keep taking the same picture year after year and watch our family grow.”

  "That's such a wonderful idea," Abigail says.

  "It was," I agree. "We brought Anna to the lake house when she was just a few months old. Her birthday is in September, and we brought her for the first time in November. Helen wanted to wait until spring when it would have been warmer, but I was just so excited, and that made her more excited, and we decided it would be even better to bring her to the lake house and celebrate Thanksgiving there. We were going to stay there through the holidays and make a family tradition out of it. She thought the holidays would be so much more special if we left the city and went somewhere quiet where we could really focus on spending time together. It was so cold that winter. It's always cold then, but that year felt even colder than normal. The heating system in the lake house wasn't working very well, and Helen found a few space heaters. She set them up in our bedroom because that was the coldest room of the house. Usually, we had Anna sleeping in the room with us, but she wasn't comfortable with her in the same room as the heaters. She said it would be dangerous for the baby, and that the smaller room we had decided to use as a nursery was warm enough. Just to be sure, we kept the fire burning in the fireplace."

  "During the night, something happened, and the fireplace sparked. I still don't know what exactly caught on fire first. I'd been so careful to pull the rug away from the fireplace and made sure there weren't any decorations or bags anywhere near it. But in what felt like an instant, the house was engulfed in flames. I jumped out of bed and told Helen what was happening. I went directly to the nursery to get Anna, and brought her outside. I thought Helen had gotten herself out, but when I looked around, I realized I didn't see her. The lake house was near a small town that had its own fire department, so they were there quickly. I handed Anna to one of the emergency workers and tried to go back in the house to find Helen. I went as far into the house as I possibly could, but the fire was already so hot, I couldn't get far. I couldn't see anything, and the smoke made it where I couldn’t breathe. Eventually, one of the firefighters dragged me back out. I tried to stop them from treating me, because I thought it was going to take people away from looking for her. I had burns and smoke inhalation, and I fought them as hard as I could so everyone who was there would go into the house and find Helen. I got a serious burn on my side, and I resisted treatment so much, it made it worse."

  "They finally sedated me and forced me to go to the hospital. I didn't find out until the next day that they had to pull the entire team out of the house because the fire had become so severe, and the structure was falling down around them. Once they were able to extinguish the fire and it cooled enough, they went through the rubble and found Helen's body. From the position where they found it, it seems like she went into another room of the cabin and got trapped. There was a beam on top of her, and they told me most likely it fell and hit her head, knocking her unconscious. I still don't know what she was doing, or what she was looking for. I can't think of anything that would be so important she wouldn't get out of the house as soon as I told her about the fire."

  "You can never know what someone is thinking or how they are going to respond in an emergency," Abigail says. She thinks for a few seconds. "Thanksgiving must be hard for you."

  I shake my head, thinking back to the conversation we had about the holidays, and how much celebrating Thanksgiving means to her.

  "Not really," I say. "I think about it, of course. I probably always will. But it was a long time ago, and I genuinely feel like I've worked through it now. I'll never say I'm over it. I don't think that's the type of thing anybody actually ever gets over. But, I have to think about Anna. She loves Christmas. More than anyone I've ever known. She doesn't know when her mother died. She only knows it happened when she was a little baby. I don't want to tell her yet. I know I'll probably have to sometime," I glance down at my hands and then back at Abigail. "I just don't want her to start associating that time of the year with her mother's death. There is so much excitement and magic in Anna as soon as the holiday season starts. I want to keep it that way for her. Seeing her that happy always makes it impossible for me to even consider being sad."

  Abigail stares at me, and I do my best to swallow the emotions building in my chest.

  "Anyway… I was in the hospital for more than a week. When they released me, they told me I needed to take it easy, and let myself heal, but I couldn't. I couldn't bear to be at home. I couldn't just sit around with my own thoughts. Ruth and a couple of nurses were taking care of Anna, so I didn't have anything to distract me. I needed to get back to work for my own sanity. It was hard with the extent of the burn on my side, and the doctors said I did a lot of damage to it. It's scarred pretty badly. It’s kind of gross, but honestly, I don’t care."

  Abigail is still looking at me. I feel like her eyes are scanning me, examining me on a deeper level than anyone has in a really long time. Finally, she slides across the couch closer to me. Her hand lifts up and I feel it cup my cheek, her soft skin cool against mine. My eyes close, and I tilt my face into her palm. I feel her move closer, and her other hand joins the first. She touches her forehead to mine, and I can feel our breath moving back and forth between us.

  "Show me your scar," she whispers.

  ********

  Abigail

  Xavier hesitates, and I repeat my request. I need to see it. Something in me needs to see his scar to get as close as I can to experiencing that moment in his life. Everything he told me washes over me, but it doesn't push me away, it only solidifies my growing feelings for Xavier. I want to be even closer to him. I feel like I've seen his heart and the scars it bears. I know that even though he is tormented by the memories, and will always love Helen, he loves her as a memory now, not a person. I see the pain Xavier carries, and want to take it away from him. I want to soothe and reassure him, and show him what he has proven to me -- that there can be more to life.

  Resting my hand on the center of Xavier's chest, I run it down the crisp white T-shirt he's wearing until I can tuck my fingers under the hem. I lift it only slightly, and Xavier takes it in his own hands, pulling it off over his head. I immediately see a massive tattoo covering his side and curving around to his back. Looking closer, I notice the skin beneath the elaborate pattern is rough and uneven. The ink embedded in his skin isn't enough to fully conceal the scar, and I touch my fingers to it. The contact makes my fingertips tingle, and a shock rolls through me.

  Xavier lifts my hand away from the scar and touches it to his cheek like before. He turns his face to press a kiss to the center of my palm. His eyes closed, he presses his other hand to the one I have on his cheek. I ease closer to him, and he looks up at me with unspoken questions illuminated in his eyes. Without putting a voice to them, he finally stands and takes both of my hands, helping me to my feet. We walk in silence, both of us acknowledging the need within ourselves and each other. I've never wanted anything as badly as I need Xavier right now.

  We climb the stairs to the top of the apartment, and he leads me into his bedroom. I step out of the slippers as he unties the belt at my waist and pushes the robe away from my shou
lders. Moments later, we are both on the bed, kneeling together in the center of the mattress so our thighs touch. I lean forward to bring our chests together and can feel my breath sliding in and out of my lungs in a slow, deep rhythm.

  Xavier lifts his eyes to mine, and I feel the connection between us grow even further. Passion swells inside me, and when I see Xavier lean down toward me, I readily welcome the tender touch of his lips against mine. Right now, at this moment, nothing else matters.

  Our kiss deepens, and my body trembles as Xavier pulls me closer. I don't want to miss a second of this. I memorize the taste of Xavier's lips and tongue, and the feeling of our shared, rapid breaths. Soon, Xavier brings his hands to my sides and runs them down the curves of my body, tracing the dip of my waist and the gentle swell of my hips. His hands gather the bottom of my shirt and I lift my arms, giving him permission to take it off and toss it aside. As he continues to kiss me, taking his mouth from mine to move behind me, I feel no urgency. It’s like Xavier is reveling in my body. His lips touch my back and travel down my spine, moving slowly as if showing reverence to every inch of skin he discovers. As I feel the tip of his tongue graze across my skin, I draw in a breath and my head lulls forward. The pleasure I'm feeling is nearly overwhelming, and I can barely focus. This is something I've never experienced. The intense desire I feel for Xavier is being met by a pleasure growing more intense with every moment.

  Xavier turns his attention back to the front of my body, and I see his eyes glide down to rest on my breasts. The cool air of the bedroom has chilled my skin, causing my nipples to become taut and straining toward him. I can't resist touching Xavier anymore. I've never seen a man as incredible as him, and I run my hands along his muscular shoulders and down his chiseled chest in admiration. My fingertips dip into the ridges of his abdominal muscles, and brush along the V at his hips.

  I don't feel any sense of nervousness or anxiety. It feels completely natural to be this close to Xavier and feel his hands moving all over my body. I want to offer myself to him, and let him show me the sensations I’ve never been able to enjoy. Our mouths crash together again, and Xavier lowers me down onto my back as he stretches out over me, pressing me down into the mattress with his weight. He lifts up a few seconds later, and I feel his hand cup over my right breast before his mouth closes over the other. I gasp as his tongue sweeps over my nipple, sending a shiver of arousal and anticipation through me. He repeats the same attention on my other breast, using the pad of his thumb to circle and tease my nipples until they are even harder. I feel like he is worshiping me, feeling as much pleasure in exploring my body as I am in the sensation of his touch.