Still Air

by Freya Barker

  “Not saying you are, but you’ve run yourself off your feet tonight. Take a break while Jonas and I finish cleaning up. We’ve got to get the kitchen back in shape for tomorrow night’s dinner.” The charity dinner is labor intensive, since the pub will be filled to capacity and everyone needs to be served at the same time. With Syd and Gunnar hosting, we’ll be back here in full force tomorrow. “Am I gonna be able to get you to come tomorrow?” I ask Pam. I know I forced her today, just to get her out of her house and among people, but I hold no illusions I’d be successful doing it another time. Still, I’d like her to be here. Every year this is a family event and Pam should be part of it. She eyes me with a smirk on her face.

  “You asking if I’ll subject myself to another day of providing free labor?” When I don’t answer and just look at her with my eyebrow raised, she finally shakes her head. “Fine,” she concedes. “But I have to check in on my girls first. I’ll drive myself.”

  I end up dropping Jonas off at home first. He just wiggles his eyebrows at me when I tell him I’ll pick him up in the morning. Pain in my ass. Pam stays quiet in the seat beside me.

  “Not sure if I’ll be good company tonight,” she says, breaking the silence that’s been getting thicker during the drive to her place.

  “Not looking for good company, honey. I’m looking for a good night’s sleep, which I won’t get if I’m at home wondering if you are okay. Easier this way.”

  “Thank you. For today, I mean,” she quickly adds. “This emptiness I feel seems to swallow me up if I let it, but it’s hard just to do the normal things, you know? And I don’t understand why now? I managed to get through those first weeks after his death without losing myself.”

  “I know why,” I tell her, pulling in the driveway and shutting down the engine before turning in my seat to face her. “You weren’t done looking after him yet, feeling responsible for him. That day on the rocks, when you let his ashes go, you let the purpose of everything you’ve done go, too. You worked hard to turn what happened with Derrick into something meaningful, and I can see why with him no longer here, it would seem the meaning is lost.”

  “You know why I always avoided you like the plague?” she asks, wiping at her cheeks. I do know, but I stay quiet. “I think I could sense you analyzing me. It’s creepy.”

  I chuckle at the look of distaste on her face before leaning in to press my lips to her forehead.

  “Maybe,” I offer. “But I’m also dead on and you know it.” I get out, round the car, and pull open her door. “Come on, woman. Let’s get some sleep.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Pam

  “Are you okay?” Dino’s deep baritone heavy with sleep, rumbles behind me.

  Morning light is streaming in, and I realize I feel more rested than I have in weeks. Despite the interrupted sleep.

  I’m not sure who made the first move—probably me—but somehow, at some point during the night, I found myself wrapped around Dino. Like I was looking for maximum connection, with our limbs tangled and as much of our skin touching as possible. His first reaction when he woke up was to release me and give me the distance I’d needed last night, but it wasn’t distance I wanted now. Using no words, I managed to get the message across. He deftly removed any barriers between us and with his gentle hands and soft lips, readied my body for his.

  The moment he pushed inside me, the tears started rolling down my face. I was afraid he’d stop, but all he did was rise up on one elbow, and cup my face with his free hand. His body never stopped moving over me, his movements strong and sure, grounding me. There was no uncontrolled passion driving our connection this time. No race for a physical release while clutching, touching, and tasting each other everywhere. This was making love in its purest form, with not only bodies, but also minds and emotions connecting. It was about me opening up enough to take what Dino was giving me; exactly what I needed.

  His eyes never left mine, and I’m not sure how long we moved together before my body released the coiled tension that had built up. Instead of barreling me over the edge of a cliff, this climax washed over me like the soothing lap of warm ocean water.

  “I’m good.” I turn to him, stretching my limbs in the process.

  “Mmmm. I’d have to agree with that,” he says. “More than good, though. You are fine.” I roll my eyes at the cheesy lines, but do it with a smile on my face.

  I take a moment to run my fingers along his face; the strong brow and nose, firm jawline, and those ridiculously full lips. That’s where my focus remains as I resist putting my mouth right there and slip out from under the covers.

  “Hey!” Dino protests as his hand shoots out in an attempt to grab me. “That’s not fair. You touch me like that, look at me like that, and then leave me hanging? Give me my good morning kiss, woman.”

  I plant my hands on my hips, cock one knee and shoot him a glare full of attitude. “Woman? You keep calling me that, I might have to hurt you.” The only result of my words is that his warm brown eyes now hold a twinkle, as well as some definite heat, as they track the length of my body. I turn my back on him, pretend flipping hair I don’t have over my shoulder, and saunter into the bathroom, giving my ass some extra sway.

  I do all this with a smile on my face. I just stood buck naked, in all my fifty-one year glory, in the middle of the room, in the harsh light of day, throwing attitude, without a lick of self-consciousness. The fact that a big hulk of a beautiful man is lying in my bed, eyeing me with unapologetic heat, helps. A lot.

  I’m not sure what this is or where, if anywhere, it’s heading, but I know that I have found a new appreciation for an intuitive, empathetic man. Yesterday at this time, I was completely adrift, caught in a storm of emotions with Christmas knocking on the door, making me feel my loss sharper than before. Today I feel anchored, the air stilled around me.

  Because of him.

  -

  The day is crazy busy. From the moment we get to The Skipper, having picked up Jonas on our way, I’m swept up in a nonstop flurry of activity. It’s busy, but with an easy camaraderie that envelops me like a warm blanket. A joint purpose that even has Jonas swept up. He’s more talkative and social than I’ve witnessed from him before, and I catch Dino occasionally watching him with parental pride. It’s bittersweet, the feeling it evokes in me. Somehow making my son’s death more real, but at the same time making his legacy more visible. He never had a chance to give his life purpose, but perhaps I was able to. With kids like Maria and Jonas, guiding them away from a dangerous path I’m now able to recognize, because of Derrick.

  The only rough spot during the afternoon is when Gina doesn’t show up when she’s supposed to. Dino calmly grabs his jacket and leaves to chase her down, but Jonas seems to be more upset than I would’ve expected of a brother. Even though he doesn’t say a word. I make a mental note to have a chat with him when things quiet down a little.

  Half an hour later, Dino walks into the kitchen, his face thunderous.

  “Where’s Gina?” Jonas asks, as his father is hanging up his coat.

  “Upstairs.” Dino’s answer is short and does not invite any further questioning, especially since he focuses his attention on the stove right away.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, maybe ten minutes later, when tension is still radiating off his back. Upon hearing my question, his shoulders slump, but he still doesn’t turn around. Jonas has been relegated to the pub to help bussing the tables and Ruby just went for a bathroom break. It’s just Dino and me in the kitchen. I tentatively place my hand in the middle of his back and feel his muscles tense under my touch. “Dino? Did something happen?”

  “Marcy’s mom hadn’t seen Gina since the girls went to bed last night. She assumed the girls were still sleeping but when Marcy came downstairs, she said Gina had left early to go home. She was surprised when I told her we hadn’t seen her yet.”

  “So where did you find her?”

  “I decided to stop at home. Pulled in the dri
veway just as she was walking down the street, her overnight bag over her shoulder. She tried to convince me she’d just left the Roper’s house until I told her I just came from there. That shut her up. She won’t tell me where she went and I’ve grounded her for the remainder of the Christmas holidays.” Finally he turns to face me. “Not sure what is going on, Pam, but something sure is. I don’t recognize my little girl anymore.”

  I want to say something encouraging, but just then Ruby walks back into the kitchen. Instead, I resort to giving his back a quick rub before turning back to plating appetizers for the guests. I have a feeling Jonas may know more about his sister’s whereabouts than he’s willing to let on, and I’m determined to find out. Something is up with that girl.

  Dino

  I was hopeful this morning.

  For the first time in perhaps years, I was looking forward to Christmas. Even before things went dramatically south with Jeannie, the holidays had been forced. Mostly for the sake of the kids, we followed traditions we’d initiated when we first became a family, hanging the stuffed stockings on the kids’ doors so they could open a few gifts. In the meantime, we’d go downstairs to light candles and get coffee going before calling them downstairs. The past ten years, there’d been no grandparents or family left to go visit, so we ended up spending Christmas day in PJs, lounging around until it was time for me to pull together a festive dinner. A leisurely day that in recent years had become more of a chore than it should have been.

  I hadn’t looked forward to Christmas this year. Had managed to pick up a few things here and there for the kids, but it was difficult to know what they’d like. It made me realize that somewhere along the line, I’d lost touch. It doesn’t help that the past month we seemed to roll from one upheaval into the next, starting with Jonas going off the rails. We haven’t even put up the Christmas tree yet, which I hope to do tonight when we get home from The Skipper.

  Now it would appear my thirteen-year-old daughter, the same one who just months ago would look at me like I hung the moon, has chosen the day before Christmas to cause problems.

  I’m literally sick to my stomach, driving home. It doesn’t go away when I see her walking down the street with her bag tossed over her shoulder. I’d suspected Marcy wasn’t telling me everything she knew when she refused to meet my eyes.

  “Get in,” I snap at Gina when she walks up the drive, her chin tilted defiantly. She doesn’t say a word and just gets in the car. No Daddy from my little princess today. “Where were you?”

  “Marcy’s,” is the snappy answer and I swing my head around.

  “Funny, since Marcy’s mom said she hasn’t seen you since last night and Marcy said you left early this morning. So I’ll ask again, where were you?” I watch as shock, then guilt, flits over my little girl’s face before she settles on defiance again. She lifts her little chin even higher and throws me a glare before resolutely turning her gaze out the side window. “Fine, play it like that,” I tell her in a low voice. “But know that your ass is staying inside the rest of your vacation. I don’t take kindly to lying, Gina.”

  The only fucking response I get is an incredulous snort and a shrug of her narrow shoulders, but she doesn’t even turn to face me. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach settles deeper.

  The moment we walk into the back of The Skipper, Gina makes a beeline for the stairs and storms up. I head back to the kitchen, I don’t have time to duke it out with her right now. I try to put it out of my mind and focus on the menu, until I feel Pam’s hand at my back, reminding me I’m not alone.

  It’s nearing on ten o’clock when we finally file out of the pub’s back door. One of Syd’s stipulations for this dinner is that it’s served early so that everyone can get home at a reasonable hour for Christmas Eve. Gauging by the happy smile on her face, the evening was another success raising funds for Daniel’s Hope Foundation; the charity she set up in memory of her son and that helps pay medical care for children in need.

  I grab Pam’s hand and link my fingers with hers as we walk down the alley toward the parking lot. Jonas and Gina are walking in front of us, and it looks as if Jonas has a thing or two to say to his sister. Pam squeezes my hand to get my attention.

  “Could you drop me off at home?”

  “Why?” I want to know, pulling Pam to a stop. “I was hoping you’d come trim the tree at mine.” A little smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she places her other hand in the middle of my chest. It feels good there.

  “I haven’t been to Florence House all week. I know Brenda and Doris have everything in hand, but I should really make an appearance there tomorrow morning. Three of the residents are with family or friends for Christmas, but there are two who have nowhere to go. I don’t want to leave them alone.”

  “What if I drop you off there right after breakfast tomorrow?” I know I sound like I’m begging, but fuck if I don’t want to start my day with her right there. “We’ll go grab some overnight stuff for you on the way home. What do you say?”

  “But what about the kids? Do you think staying over is a good idea?”

  “Jonas is old enough and no fool. I’m not sure where Gina’s head’s at right now, but I know I want you there. I’ll sleep on the couch if I have to.”

  She looks at me, her eyes squinted, before patting me on the chest. “Okay, I’ll stay. But I really need to pick up a few things at home if you don’t mind swinging past my place.” I lean down and kiss her hard in response, before tugging her along to the car, where the kids are impatiently waiting.

  We swing by Pam’s place, where she rushes in to grab her gear, while Jonas gives me the third degree. He seems satisfied when I tell him I just don’t want Pam to wake up to an empty house on Christmas Day. Not exactly a lie, but not the entire truth either. Gina has remained quiet and when I check the rearview mirror, I notice she’s following the conversation closely.

  The kids try to escape to their rooms when we get home, but I won’t let them.

  “We’re decorating the tree, guys. I’m gonna put on some hot chocolate and throw a few cookies in the oven, if you guys pull down the tree and the decorations from the attic.”

  Years ago, Jeannie had wanted to do away with a fresh cut Christmas tree. I conceded, because I did anything I thought could make her happy, but I really hate fake trees. Next year, we’re getting a real one. If I have my way, we’ll go and cut it down ourselves. For now though, we’d have to make do with the artificial one.

  Grumbling, the kids head upstairs to haul the stuff down, and Pam follows me into the kitchen.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asks, standing a little uncertainly in the doorway.

  “First I want you to come here and kiss me, and although I’d like your mouth other places than just on my lips, with the kids upstairs, I guess I’ll have to restrain myself.” I chuckle as I watch Pam’s face register shock before she flushes a dark rose. Her eyes sparkle as her mouth lifts in a smirk, and I think I’m in trouble. Slowly and deliberately she stalks up to me, molds the front of her body to mine, and tilts her back.

  “You want my mouth on you?” she asks, her voice sultry as fuck and my crotch is immediately too tight when she teases my chest with her index finger, scratching her nail over a nipple. “Want my tongue tasting you? Want my lips stretching around you? Want to slide your cock down my throat?” Her hips roll against my dick seductively, in rhythm with each question, rendering me incapable of speech. The need to flip her around and bend her over my kitchen counter so I can spank the sass out of her is so strong, only the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs stops me from following through. I growl deep in my chest when I see the self-satisfied smirk on her face. Minx.

  “You’ll pay,” I manage right before Jonas comes storming in with the tree box in his arms.

  “Where, Dad?”

  “Same as every year, Bud; corner by the fireplace, in front of the bookcase.” With a simple nod, he’s off again and I’m left facing Pam.
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  “Hot chocolate is your job. I’ll whip up cookies,” I tell her, and she snickers when I adjust myself before diving into the fridge.

  Half an hour later, we watch Jonas struggle with the lights, something that was historically my task, but I’m glad to hand over the reins for. Gina helped bring a few boxes down, but currently has her head buried in her phone. Maybe I should’ve taken that away from her, too. Still, she’s here in the room, and although not necessarily an active or even willing participant, I’m glad for her presence. I’m even happier to have Pam snuggled up to me as we’re sipping hot chocolate and tossing out instructions on placement to Jonas.

  “Why exactly are we doing this?” Gina’s unexpected question is sharp. It’s clear she’s trying to poke the bear, although why is beyond me.

  Jonas swings around on his sister angrily, but before he can say anything or I can intervene, Pam’s rich deep voice fills the angry silence.

  “You know,” she starts, not looking at anyone in particular but rather staring at the lights in the tree. “When Derrick was young and it was just him and me, I used to have a tree up every Christmas. No matter how bad our situation, and whether or not I had gifts to put underneath that year, I made it a point to have a tree. Sometimes I’d wait until the last minute, for the guy selling trees down the block, to start closing down his stand on Christmas Eve. He’d usually have a few trees left—not much, but better than nothing—and would let me drag one home. Decorations were silly things. Stuff Derrick had made in school or things we could find around the house.” She pauses and I look to find both Jonas and Gina’s eyes riveted on Pam’s sad face. “That last year, we didn’t have a tree. I was too busy...well, it doesn’t really matter why. All that matters is that I haven’t had a tree since then. Haven’t decorated a tree since then. With Derrick gone now, I can’t help but think what might have been different, if I hadn’t been too busy that time; too wrapped up in what I was doing that last year. Would it have made a difference? If I’d made time for our annual Christmas decorating, would things have been different?” She surreptitiously wipes a tear from her cheek and I give her shoulder a squeeze. She turns to face Gina directly. “So you see, honey—this tree? This experience? It may not seem worth the effort to you right now, but trust me when I say that if you miss only one year, you may have to live with that regret the rest of your life—I do.”