by Mimi Barbour
He still cares!
Chapter Thirty-Three
From then on for Sheri, the evening turned from a beautiful dream of a future full of love and happiness to pure hell. Questions kept churning in her mind. Should I let on that I know about Margarita? Is tonight the right time to bare my soul? Now, when he’s probably had all he can take of lying women? Worry played havoc with her temper until she could scream from the bother of having to smile.
Their guests vied for her attention with questions and curiosity. Most were welcoming, and the few who took longer to warm up fell for her when she tried to use her broken Spanish for those who couldn’t speak English.
Shyness affected the twins who would only be carried by those people they recognized. Andrea showed them off for a short time until Rafael wailed for his mother. Miguel, being closer, appeared and Rafael’s bellows quieted while his smile beckoned. He settled down happily in Miguel’s arms and played his part well from then on.
Carrie-Anne, a little actress in the making, held court for all who wanted to see her smile and perform. Dressed in matching outfits, both wearing white, Rafael a tiny tuxedo and Carrie-Anne a ruffled gown to match her mother’s, looked as fantastic as they appeared in the photos passed around on the windows of digital cameras.
“I will take the babies to their beds now.” Maria, dressed in a soft grey dress partially hidden by a white ruffled apron, approached.
“Maria, they’re fine. Look how well they’re behaving.” Andrea clung to the giggling Carrie-Anne.
“Look closer, Senora Andrea.”
The circle of friends around the proud grandmother all followed where Maria pointed and caught exactly what she wanted them to see. The tiny girl rubbed at her eyes with her dimpled chubby fingers fisted.
Andrea sighed theatrically. “You’re right, Maria. She’s ready for her bed.”
When Sheri saw Maria with the two heading toward their bedroom, she made a beeline to cut her off.
“Maria, I’ll take them and put them to bed. You have enough to do.” Sheri reached out with welcoming arms only to find her babies whisked out of reach.
“And ruin your lovely gown?” The horror in Maria’s voice had been real and so was the shock on her face.
“Give it up my friend,” said a grinning Paula who’d stood nearby. “She’ll not let you usurp her nannyship in front of all these people.” Sadly, Sheri’s hope to use them as her excuse to cut the evening short faded. She stayed and played her part until the festivities concluded. All the while, she worried about what to say to a husband in turmoil.
Of course, the semi-sotted rogue was no help at all. He played his role of happy husband when necessary, obviously where Carrie-Anne got her talent, but most of the time he hid out at the bar or on the terrace. Whenever he was called to perform in one or other of the wedding rituals, he did so with charm that went only skin deep and a smile that never reached his soul.
Whenever she tried to get him alone or even get close, he’d manage to evade her. She guessed he couldn’t stand to see the sympathy she couldn’t hide.
As an anticlimax, when the last guest left, Miguel informed her he’d been called out to handle a security situation, and for her not to worry about him. Still suffering over his anguish, she gently hugged his arm.
“It’s fine Miguel. I’ll wait up for you—”
“No. Don’t. I’ll be late, maybe all night. I’m sorry Sheri I…” A step back out of her reach, a shrug, his hand halfway to her shoulder and then he just stopped and looked deep into her eyes. Whatever he saw made his jaw tighten and gray ice gleam. “I’ll call.” He’d reverted back to the same guy who’d stood in her doorway the first time she’d met him. The chip on his shoulder was firmly back in place.
After the house quieted, Sheri in her t-shirt, sleeping shorts and bare feet wandered back to the room where the celebrations had taken place. Most of the mess had been cleared, all the dishes and food no longer anywhere in sight. The bouquets of magnolias had been gathered and placed in a large pail full of water. Ahh! She found what she’d been searching for. With tiny scissors, she cut one beautiful bloom and secreted it to her room where her journal waited. Flipping back a handful of pages, she checked to see that the pink blossom from another bouquet was still attached.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The next few weeks followed the same pattern. No matter what Sheri said or did, Miguel wiggled around like a worm fleeing a gardener’s tool. He wouldn’t be pinned down or agree to any plans she’d try to make. He hadn’t slept in their bed since the night before their wedding. Even Andrea had given up trying to get him to talk. They all tiptoed around with coaxing smiles and sweet manners during the few hours each day he spent at home. Only the twins seemed to have the key to soften his disposition, to make him smile.
Once again, Maria took to behaving like a grouch whenever Sheri walked into the room. Her constant glares were becoming intolerable. Finally, fed up, her limit reached, Sheri cornered the housekeeper and hissed. “What is your problem? You’ve hated me from the beginning, and for no reason I can think of. Are you blaming me for Miguel’s behavior? You know he’s a big boy. He can be an ass without any help from me.”
“Did you know your husband sneaks into the estate at night and sleeps in the guesthouse? That he’s working and drinking himself to an early grave? The only time I’ve seen him smile since your wedding night is when he spends time with Rafael and Carrie-Anne?”
“He’s staying in the guesthouse? I understood that his work has kept him at the office, and that he’s been bunking in his suite there. Look, Maria, I have no idea why he’s acting this way. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he’s always on his way somewhere. I promise you, if I could change things, I would.”
Maria hesitated for a second and then Sheri saw a firm resolve harden her features. Her work-worn hand reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph.
Sheri didn’t understand at all why the other woman acted so weird, but an instinctive warning of fluttery nerves cautioned her to beware.
She took the glossy picture, and looking into the laughing face of Rafael, her own smile broke out. His goofy grin did it to her every time. “I love this pose. It’s pure Rafael.”
“No, it is not. This is a photograph of Miguel as a baby.”
Guilty eyes flew to read those of her accuser, and she knew Maria had her number. Fear made her gamble. “Felipe must have smiled in the same manner.”
“Never.” Maria actually spat the word. Whisking the picture away from Sheri’s weak grasp, she waved it in her face, and lacking words, she snorted and left the room.
With everything closing in on her, and tears close, Sheri swiftly headed for the privacy of her own suite, a place she’d spent very little time in lately. Shaking like a person with palsy, her weak knees gave out and she slid to the floor by the leather sofa.
The ache in her heart made her clutch at her chest. She gripped her blouse and used it to weep into. Her tears gushed while she wailed her fear. Over and over, her brain questioned. What am I going to do? He’s too unapproachable to ask for forgiveness. Especially right after the woman he loved deceived him in the worst possible way. How can I expect him to accept the truth, that I didn’t mean to betray him? That I didn’t know about his inability to father his own children until Paula told me after we had married?
A plan came to mind. She remembered how happy he’d seemed when they’d first arrived and spent such wonderful nights together making love, learning about each other, adjusting. Sheri decided then and there she had nothing to lose. She would wait until she saw the lights go on in the guesthouse tonight and then she would go and seduce her own husband until he once again became her lover. Only then, would she tell him her secret and throw herself on his mercy.
She swiped at her cheeks, hiccupped and swiped again. Leaning over she grabbed a box nearby. A handful of tissues mopped up the waterworks while she plotted her next moves.
Sheri prepare
d meticulously. Her hair was left loose the way he liked it, she wore only light makeup, mostly around her eyes to bring out all the different tones of the forest. Even the choice of her nightwear became important. To connive kept her sane, to plan and dream kept her hopeful, but praying he wouldn’t hate her once he knew her secret kept her tormented. She would do whatever he wanted to make things right again. Just as long as he didn’t take her babies or decide to send her away.
Chapter Thirty-Five
It became harder and harder for Miguel to carry on nursing his heartache. Everyone tried so hard to please him, to cajole him back into the fold. Many nights he hesitated by the back door, hand on the knob, and in the end his common sense prevailed.
Sheri would hurt him. She’d go to Charlie and take her babies with her. He’d be left with a broken heart and no reason to live. His only chance to retain some legal right to the children was by getting her to sign those adoption papers. She’d put it off every time he’d broached the subject, but the time had arrived for him to become more forceful.
Once exhaustion claimed him, the harmony of those nights they’d spent together returned to him in his dreams. The sweetness of those images had him tossing and turning, so that in the morning, he never felt rested. He hated to admit how much he missed Sheri’s arms and soft lips. How desperate he felt to hold her again.
This morning, awake after another night in fantasy hell, he’d decided enough was enough. His hangover today registered the worst yet, and he accepted that for a man who seldom drank, he’d mastered the techniques too damn well. It was more than time to make things happen instead of wallowing in this muddle like a lovesick teen.
A plan formed and he accepted its merit. After a night of hot, steamy sex, he bet he could get her to sign her anything. So be it. He’d give up his principles to keep the rights to Felipe’s son and daughter. Then when she left with her Charlie, he’d still have some joy left in his dreary life.
Chapter Thirty-Six
She was ready. And, she’d never looked better. Sheri snuck another quick glance at the full-length mirror, which reinforced her judgment. Not wanting to get her hair cut and upset her husband, she’d opted to let it grow. Every shiny golden wave, positioned to frame her half-naked breasts, gleamed from the grooming and styling. Her makeup looked fine now, but it had taken two tries to get it perfect, shaky hands didn’t do well with pointy eye and lip liners.
She leaned closer to the glass and instantly picked up on the fear lurking in her wide eyes. Smiling helped but didn’t erase it altogether. Hopeful to keep him too occupied to see what she couldn’t hide, she scanned the rest of her outfit.
In silhouette, her curves displayed the form-fitting negligee to perfection. The satin creation, a wedding present from Paula, had made Sheri choke with glee when she’d first opened it. The material had slipped through her fingers like she’d imagine the silkiness of the softest feathers must feel to the blind. Sunlight filtering through flame-colored glass came closest to defining its color, which added a density to her eyes. Her legs, revealed from under the long flowing skirt, were softened with skin products and flattered by the high-heeled slippers that had come in the same parcel.
Ready or not, the moment had come. For the umpteenth time, she went to the window to be sure the lights were still on in the guesthouse. They’d first appeared only twenty minutes ago.
Oh no! The darkened windows told their own story. He’d left. She slid onto the side of the bed defeated. Damn and double damn! The old saying that a person’s stomach can drop to the floor was a really good description of just how she felt at the moment. Her freshly painted fingernail found its way to her lips.
Just then, a noise caught her attention. It sounded like someone had entered and walked through their suite. That was unusual, especially at this time of the evening. Before she could decide what to do, her bedroom door opened, and Miguel stood in the doorway wearing hip-snug jeans, an open short-sleeved shirt. He carried a bottle of wine with two fancy glasses tucked between his fingers.
She didn’t move, couldn’t. Silence cut into her awkwardness and she stuttered while trying to welcome him.
“Miguel, I’d hoped to see you tonight… I mean I was coming to the guesthouse.” God it was good to be alone with him here in their bedroom.
“You were? I guess you’ve missed me, a querida. I’ve missed you too. Tonight I decided I wanted to be with my wife.” He reminded her of a jungle cat cornering a victim as he came towards her, gripping his wine bottle by the neck.
“I’m glad,” she purred, and moved in his direction. With each step she took magnolia wafted around her. He’d bought her the perfume as a gift, and she’d sprayed a little on especially for him. She waited while he poured them each a drink and let her fingers brush his hand as he passed her the tall, crystal goblet.
A thick wad of papers folded and sticking out of his back pocket caught her attention, until he saw where she’d been staring. He threw them over on a table as if they were of no importance. Then he moved closer, lifted her chin with firm fingers, and placed a sweet kiss on her mouth. The taste of cabernet flavoured his lips. She opened her mouth to let him enter.
Miguel’s tongue swirled inside in a playful kind of tempting, which only took seconds to change. They both began breathing hard, and floundering around with their glasses trying to get rid of them so their hands could be free. Both looked guilty as they each spilled their wine, and then both began to laugh.
It eased the way for Sheri to launch herself into his waiting arms. They kissed as if they’d been separated forever. Yearning and feverish, they lowered to the carpet. Like two characters in an X-rated video, they tore at each other’s clothes. The straps on her nightie broke easily and her heaving breasts were freed. His t-shirt took a while longer as their hands got in the way of the other.
Finally, he whipped it over his head before they fell together wriggling and kissing, moaning and sighing. His mouth found places on her body that craved for more. Liquid gushed out of her preparing his way home, and her body heated it beyond bearing.
Losing his jeans, he settled himself between her legs where his hardness prodded her entrance, driving her crazy. His smooth, warm palms glided over her skin from the tips of her fingers up and over her shoulders then back down over her breast and stomach. All the while, he leaned back and watched her reaction, knowing that his lower body continued to wreak havoc with hers.
He smiled as she pushed her bottom upwards to cajole him into entering. “Relax, sweet baby, it’ll be as it should, but all in good time. First I need to remind your body of who I am.”
“My body has never forgotten you. It’s just missed you so much. Oh Miguel, I have something I have to tell you. Its best we stop now or you’ll hate me. I thought I could wait until after we’d made love, but I shouldn’t.”
Thinking only of stopping him, her whole body pushed up, and without her intention, the move opened her passageway and he found his way home. “Oh.” Senses tumultuous, Sheri instantly forgot everything except the building tensions rioting, and in a frenzy for release, she moaned. “Don’t stop. Please… don’t ever stop.”
***
Shifting, a small angle change and Miguel became fully sheathed. He couldn’t stand the thought that she’d tell him about Charlie and about her leaving, because he knew once everything came out into the open, they’d never have a moment like this again. And he needed her. More than he needed to worry about his convictions, his tomorrows. He needed to be one with her and nothing could have torn him away.
But anger erupted even without his wanting it. As he drove into her body, the force became harder, his kisses more vigorous, and his touches rougher. His baser instincts, to pay her back for what she’d put him through, took over and fuelled every move. But instead of turning her off, his behavior seemed to lift her to even new heights and his own insatiable need began to rejoice.
Wave upon wave of fire pulsed through him, up through his body and
into his brain where it felt like an explosion of mind-blowing pleasure. Her scream of fulfillment emphasized by her body’s convulsive tightening let him know she was equally satisfied. Never before had he felt such a force inside his body. It was… beautiful.
Her tears brought him back to earth. Lying upon her heaving body, wrapped in her warm arms, he knew he couldn’t force her to stay where she didn’t want to be. Her distress after he’d all but raped her weakened his resolve.
“I’m sorry, angel, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh Miguel, why would you apologize?”
“I used you and it’s despicable.”
“But I’m your wife—”
“Because I forced you?”
Pushing her gently to the side, he rolled away from her and reached for his clothes. The jeans slid up his damp body with difficulty, but he persevered.
“Don’t leave me like this Miguel. We need to talk. Please. It’s important.”
“I know what you want to say, and I don’t want to hear it.” He strode over to the table where he’d thrown the papers earlier and picked them up. “Look, Sheri. I came here tonight to do whatever it took to get you to sign these adoption papers.” He let them drop to the floor and the pages scattered every which way. “I’m not proud of myself for using sex, but you have to understand, I won’t give up the twins. If you have to leave, so be it, but I’ll never let you take Rafael or Carrie-Anne away from their home.” The slamming door gave even more credence to his hateful words.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
He didn’t want her. Miguel only wanted her body and her babies. No, his babies. Oh God? What was she going to do? Rolled into a ball, with her arms wrapped around her nakedness, she wept, gained control and then broke down again. The rug became soaked, and still she cried.
