by Ivy Jordan
“Thanks,” I smiled, trying not to let my irritation ring in my voice.
She was right; it did look great. The concrete was spotless, and the pool sparkling, just like what I dreamed about as a kid.
“Can we talk?” she asked, her eyes narrowing on me.
“Sure,” I said, confused by her nervous demeanor. I had the dirt from the concrete all over me from blasting it with the pressure washer. “I just need to clean up a little,” I excused myself to the side of the house where I hosed off.
Kellie was sitting on one of the lounge chairs by the pool when I returned to the backyard. She was wringing her hands like wet washcloths as she stared up at me. Something was obviously wrong. I just had no idea how it could concern me.
“What’s up?” I asked, taking a seat across from her on another lounger.
Her eyes widened, her lips parted, but only a long deep sigh escaped. This must be serious. Is it about my dad?
I laughed nervously, staring into her dark eyes with anticipation and concern. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. I just… I never thought I’d see you again,” she confessed. Oh hell, was she ready to confess her love? No way, not even if she hadn’t given birth to a life sucker.
“If this is about what happened between us,” I started, only to get interrupted.
“It is, but it’s not us, but what that night created,” she hesitated with a pause. “Bailey, she’s your daughter; our daughter,” she claimed.
What the fuck?
I couldn’t speak. My throat swelled, making me feel as if I was choking, and I was certain the fear was evident in my eyes. Is she serious, or was this some kind of game?
“I don’t want you to be in her life if you’re not ready, or if you’re just going to leave again,” Kellie stated with a mother’s firmness. No, I’m not ready; how could I be?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally gasped.
“Elijah, we both knew that night wasn’t anything more than a quick thrill before you left for the States,” she smirked.
“I didn’t think it was that short,” I teased.
“I’m serious,” she warned.
“I know. I’m just stunned. What do you want me to do, to say?” I questioned.
“I want you to think about whether or not you’re ready to be a father; really think about it,” she insisted.
Kellie’s hand extended towards me with an envelope. “My number’s inside, just call me and let me know what you decide,” she finished, and then got up and walked away.
I held the envelope in my hand; I was trembling as I pulled out the contents. A baby picture of Bailey and one of her now, along with a number: Kellie’s, I assumed. I stared at the little girl’s face, into her eyes. Is this really my daughter? I had a daughter.
The time frame added up, and I was drunk that night with Kellie: probably one of the five times in my life I’d had sex without protection. Fuck, fuck, fuck…
I rolled the pressure washer into the shed and started working on the windows on the side of the house. My mind was reeling over the news of being a father; me, a father.
“You stupid little prick,” I could hear my dad’s voice as plain as day as I tore the old rotten wood from the window of his bedroom. “You’re the biggest mistake I ever made in life. I should’ve pulled out and squirted you on your momma’s ass,” he slurred through sloppy drunk lips. I cringed at the aroma of Jack Daniels wafting under my nose and angry spit blasting onto my cheeks as he screamed at me for something, nothing.
Was Bailey a mistake in my life, did I really want her growing up thinking so? I wasn’t sure I was even capable of being someone’s father. What if I was like him?
“Hey, you’re really working hard.” I turned to see Taylor standing behind me.
I stepped down from the ladder, in shock that she was there after her three-day silent treatment.
“Yeah. There’s a lot more to do than I thought,” I confessed, wiping my hands on my jeans.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” she stammered, her eyes staring at her feet as she spoke. As they lifted, my heart shook with an ache I didn’t find familiar, or comfortable.
“It’s okay. I understand,” I smiled.
She seemed distressed, uncomfortable, and anxious as she shifted her weight from left to right.
“Everything okay?” I questioned.
“Yeah. I’ve just been thinking about my father, and Tommy,” she sighed, the stress in her tone relatable.
“I get it. I just got a shocker that’s made me think of nothing but my father,” I confessed.
“A shocker?” she asked, her voice filled with the compassion I needed at that very moment.
I unloaded everything onto her as if she was at work and I was her patient. She listened, her eyes never breaking contact with mine. “What are you going to do?” she asked. That was the million dollar question.
“I have no idea,” I admitted.
“You can’t believe you’d be like your father. He was a mean drunk, that isn’t your fault,” she caressed my arm gently as she spoke.
I could feel the lump in my throat growing, and tears struggling to escape. Men didn’t cry, not real men. I choked them down, swallowing the lump as well, and freeing my breath into a deep exhale.
“I’m sure you’ll do what’s right,” Taylor smiled.
What was the right thing to do, and right for who: me or Bailey?
“I guess. I’m sorry for dumping all that on you. You came here to say something. I didn’t mean to distract from that,” I apologized, realizing that I’d just bombarded her with an overload of shocking news.
“No. It’s nothing that can’t wait,” she maintained.
I felt bad for not being there for her, for whatever it was she needed from me. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to feel her heart beat with mine, to taste the sweetness of her arousal on my lips again. She was beautiful, stunningly beautiful, even with her hair pulled into a tight bun, and glasses covering her dark eyes.
What would Tommy think of me sleeping with his sister, especially knowing that I was just going to leave in a few weeks? Am I now, leaving? Fuck, my life was turned upside down.
“Do you want to grab dinner later? I just need to clean up,” I offered.
“No. I’ve got a lot to do tonight; maybe tomorrow. I’ll call you,” she promised, and then leaned in for a quick hug.
Her vanilla perfume soothed me as it wafted under my nose, and I didn’t want to let her go as she pulled away quickly. I watched her walk away, wondering if she would really call. Why would she after what I’d just dumped on her?
I picked up the tools and carried them to the shed, placing them neatly on the shelves my dad had built. A large box in the back caught my attention: a solar cover for the pool that we never used. I pulled it out, figuring it would help turn the frigid water to a tolerable temperature quicker so I could at least get to take a dip in the pool before the place was sold.
I slit the box with my pocket knife and pulled the blue cover out onto the concrete. “You need some help?” Clinton called from over the fence as I struggled with the large cover, unsure which end was which.
“Sure,” I agreed, figuring if I didn’t he’d just stand there and watch me fight with the plastic.
He gripped an end, stretching it towards him, “Yeah, this is the shallow end,” he declared.
I’d noticed the pristine pool in his own backyard, so I assumed he knew what he was talking about. I followed his directions, and within just a few minutes, the pool was covered. “Don’t forget to put chemicals in the water,” Clinton mentioned.
“I knew I was forgetting something,” I grumbled, hating the thought of returning to the hardware shop before hitting the hotel mattress face first.
“I’ve got everything you need. Let me take care of it for you tonight. It’s best to wait until the sun goes down anyway,” he offered.
“I appreciate that,” I patted him on the back.
“I’d really like to talk to you about your dad,” he brought up again. It was like a broken fucking record. I didn’t want to talk about my dad, especially now. I had Kellie, Bailey, and Taylor to think about, dad was nowhere on my priority list.
“I’m just really not up to it,” I confessed, hoping that would get him to back off.
“When you are,” he nodded, and then left me to finish cleaning up on my own.
What was so damn important that he wanted to talk to me about? I’d find the time and the energy to talk to him soon, just not now.
I left the house and headed to the hotel, not even stopping for a drink in the bar on my way to my room. All I wanted was a shower and sleep. I had a lot to think about, and a lot to figure out.
Chapter Sixteen
Taylor
I’d been thinking about Elijah all night, and by morning, felt as though I hadn’t had any sleep. I knew I couldn’t ask something so heavy of him right after receiving the news he’d been given, but I also knew I couldn’t let this nagging feeling in my gut go.
It was Wednesday, and Milton was going to be my first patient, meaning I’d be struggling with all my unanswered questions about Tommy all day. I had to talk to Elijah. More than that, I knew I wanted to see him again, to make sure he was okay. My heart ached for him. I knew what a struggle he must be having with the decision Kellie dropped in his lap. It was one that he’d never get the chance to correct if he made the wrong one.
I stopped into Madison’s shop on my way into work for a large coffee and a small donut. She was in an unusually good mood, smiling from ear to ear as she handed me my order. “What’s got into you this morning?” I asked, wishing I felt half as good as she did.
“Johnny found a girlfriend,” she beamed.
I laughed with relief, knowing that now her issues with Joey would go away, at least for now. “That’s great,” I smiled, trying to hide my own anxiety.
“So, did you talk to Elijah?” she questioned.
“I stopped by there,” I stammered.
“You didn’t talk to him about Tommy?” she probed.
I shook my head, tightening my lips into a grimace. “He’d just gotten some shocking news. It just wasn’t the right time,” I shared.
“What news?” Madison’s eyes widened as she readied for gossip. She loved anything juicy, and this news would certainly send her tongue into high gear spreading it across the small island.
“It’s nothing I can share, at least not right now,” I explained.
This was Elijah’s news to share, if he decided to do so, not mine. “I’ll call him tonight, maybe find a way to ask him about Tommy then,” I assured my friend.
She pretended to be satisfied with my response, but I knew she’d ask me daily to spill the beans on Elijah until she knew the truth. “I gotta run,” I made my escape as a couple customers entered the bakery.
Mitchell stopped me as I entered the building before I could make it to my office. I was eager to get settled before Milton arrived. “Taylor, if I could have a minute,” he motioned me towards his office. I felt like a kid being summoned into the principal’s office as his eyebrows pushed down in a disappointing scowl.
I entered his office, leaving the door open, hoping it would be a quick chat. “Close the door,” he insisted. Shit, what did I do wrong?
“Is everything okay?” I asked nervously.
“It is. I was just wondering why you changed Milton’s appointments to three times a week,” he questioned.
I explained my reasoning for adding the Friday and waited for his response as he ran his tongue over his sucked in bottom lip. “We’ll try it for a few weeks,” he finally said. “I just don’t want to create an issue with being able to attend to other patients’ needs,” he reasoned.
I agreed and quickly left his office. I knew in my heart or hearts that keeping Milton in contact with the outside world more frequently would help ease his depression, but now I had to prove it to Mitchell in less than a month in order to continue my method of treatment.
When Milton arrived for his appointment, he was chipper as usual, according to his Wednesday notes. We talked about his wife, how badly he missed her, and then the possibility of him visiting his kids. “I think it would do you some good to see your kids, and your grandkids,” I beamed.
I watched his eyes light up as he told me about the littlest one, Jack, named after his dad. He was only two, but he knew how to Skype, something his son had only taught him a couple years ago. “You may be right. I would like to see them,” he agreed.
I walked him out and told him I’d see him Friday. He waved as he waddled out of the building, his old wooden cane keeping his balance as he made his way to a small white car. I chuckled as I watched him climb in. He was old, nearly falling apart, and could barely see, but he was still driving. Watch out, Molokai; there’s a wild man on the loose.
The fact that Milton had been in a good mood meant there wasn’t talk of the war, of his buddies dying in front of him, or the fact he hated he’d been spared when his brother’s hadn’t. It made my day go by faster and kept the weight off my chest that crushed me whenever I thought of Tommy.
My last appointment ran over, so by the time I was ready to leave, Mitchell had already left for the day. I was relieved, not wanting to have another discussion about Milton, or my treatment plans. I knew he was concerned about my motives, knowing that my father committed suicide at about the same age as the old man. There were a lot of similarities, and if I noticed them, I knew Mitchell did as well.
I locked up my office and called Elijah as I walked to my car. “Hey there,” his voice sounded lighter than the last time we’d talked.
“Hey, you. How ya doin?” I asked as casually as I could muster.
“Oh, you know, livin’ the dream,” he chuckled.
Most people would consider his life a dream, but not Elijah. He didn’t find this island to be paradise, he obviously didn’t plan on having a family, and he had all those bad memories that he just couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard I knew he tried.
“How would you like a home cooked meal?” I asked.
“That depends,” he teased.
“On?”
“On whether or not you can cook,” he chuckled.
“Oh, I can cook,” I boasted.
“Then I’d love one,” he beamed.
“See ya around seven?” I suggested.
“Yes, you will,” he flirted.
I was blushing as I hung up the phone. Why was it so hard to even talk to that man without it arousing me?
I stopped at the little market in town and grabbed a basket. I knew I had to make something amazing after boasting about my culinary skills, even though it was mostly just talk. I’d spent a lot of time in the kitchen when I lived at home, but not much since I’d moved to the States. My tiny New York apartment had such a small kitchen, there was no way to prepare more than a microwave meal in there, so I was a little rusty.
I selected a couple Mahi Mahi fillets and moved on to the produce section. My dad had taught me my way around grilling a fish, and my pineapple salsa was always a hit. I gathered the ingredients, along with a couple bottles of sweet red wine, and headed to the checkout counter.
“Mommy, I want candy,” a little girl’s voice pulled my attention to the register beside me. Kellie Kamaka looked the same as she did in high school, not a day older. Her eyes narrowed on the small child beckoning her as mommy, “You’ve had enough candy,” she scolded.
I stared down at the little girl, her dark eyes and round cheeks matching her mothers. That was Bailey, Elijah’s daughter. I looked up, noticing Kellie staring in my direction. I smiled at her, trying to act casual, even though my heart raced. She smiled back, not a friendly one, but more of a smirk. She pulled on her daughter’s arm gently, keeping her close to her side, and then turned her attention to the clerk who was ringing up her groceries.
I fumbled in my wallet for my card, purp
osely giving Kellie enough time to grab her bags and exit the store. We weren’t friends in school, and certainly not after. She was a year older than me, the prom queen, one of the popular girls, or as I called them, mean girls.
I sat in my car, struggling with the pain in my chest as the little girl’s image played over and over in my mind. I’d looked for anything that would make me believe she wasn’t Elijah’s child, but there was something very familiar in her eyes, and in her crooked little smile. My God, Elijah really has a daughter: Kellie Kamaka’s daughter.
I stowed the groceries in the fridge and headed to the shower. As I stripped down, my reflection in the tall mirror pulled my attention. My hands slid down my sides, measuring my curves and comparing them to Kellie’s. She was a beautiful woman, and I was certain Elijah had been with many other women just as beautiful, probably even more so. What was it he saw in me?
My breasts were full and firm, larger than they’d been in high school, but I still had the same narrow hips. Luckily my waist was still tiny, giving me the slight illusion of a curve, but I knew after a few more weeks of Madison’s donuts, that curve was in danger of disappearing.
I had just brought the fish in from the grill when Elijah knocked on the front door. My hair was flowing freely down my back, and a cute frilly apron covered my low-cut yellow sundress as I answered the door. I watched his eyes carefully as they washed over my body, warming me with his obvious approval. “You know I go nuts when you wear red,” he growled playfully as he gripped my waist, pulling me into him.
I let out a squeal of surprise at his aggression, but didn’t pull back. I’d remembered him saying how much he liked red, and I’d hoped he’d react just like he did. “I can change if it’s going to be a distraction,” I giggled.
His mouth pushed onto my neck. I squealed again as his lips sucked in my delicate flesh. “You can take it off if ya want,” he whispered in my ear and then offered a sweet kiss to my cheek.
My pussy swelled with arousal, pushing against the silk of my panties as he gave me a tight squeeze before letting me go. “What’s for dinner?” he asked. “It smells amazing.”
