Ecstasy

by Gwynne Forster

  “I’m sure glad you called, hon, ’cause I was just about to ring you. Skip’s shaken about Mabel—she passed away, you know. Mason’s on his way here, and we just can’t get the child settled down. You want to try calming him?”

  “I thought he was supposed to meet Mason in New York. What happened?”

  “Mason called back before Skip could leave and gave us the news. Here he is.”

  “Hi, Jeanny. I guess you know what happened. Aren’t you coming up here with my dad?”

  She couldn’t, and she knew he’d feel as though she had deserted him.

  “If I leave here, Skip, there won’t be anyone to take care of the dog, and he’s too big for me to take with me.”

  “He is?”

  She told him about Casper and promised that, if Mason didn’t mind, he could visit her and the dog.

  “Have you got a computer?” She offered to let him use hers when he visited.

  He responded proudly. “That’s okay; I can borrow my dad’s laptop. Aunt Laura and Mrs. Ames have been teaching me a lot of things.”

  “Aunt Laura?” She couldn’t believe Laura let him call her that; if so, she didn’t need any more evidence of Clayton’s powers as a miracle worker.

  “Yeah. She said I couldn’t call her by her first name, and since she’s going to be my aunt...you know, she’s your sister...and all. Well, you know...”

  She wondered at his sudden silence.

  “You’re gonna marry my dad, aren’t you?” This wasn’t the time to disappoint him, but how could she lie?

  “Skip, I’m so sorry about your aunt. It hurts, I know, but now you have Mason and he’ll look after you.” She thought she heard a sniffle.

  “I know, but I didn’t have time to get there. When Dad gets here, do you mind if I ask him to let me stay with you one weekend? He’d been complaining that you shouldn’t be out there by yourself.”

  This wasn’t the time to give him the impression that he wasn’t needed, so she let it slide, but she’d get around to divesting him of the notion that she couldn’t look after herself. She hung up and wandered around the house, out of sorts and aware that the feeling enveloped her whenever Mason left her. She slapped her knee. Something had to give!

  Working with her needles always gave her a sense of peace, so she took some materials out to the patio and began crocheting dolls. Lost in the rhythm of the needles, images of another scene in which she had sat on a veranda and gazed at a garden of flowers, butterflies, and bees swirled around in her mind. She knew it was real, but couldn’t place it. Frustrated, she called Mason’s travel office and left a request that he telephone her.

  “Are you alright? I’m on my way to Pilgrim, and I just got your message.”

  Everything settled inside of her with the sound of his voice.

  “Hi. I’m okay. But I just had a vision of a garden of flowers in some far-off place, and I can’t figure out where it was. Were we together in a garden?”

  “I don’t think so, but nearly every private home and most hotels in Zimbabwe have flower gardens. What else did you recall?” She told him about the butterflies and bees.

  “Where did you go when you left my room the morning after we made love that first time? In Zimbabwe.”

  She couldn’t contain a gasp. “You’re so insistent about this, Mason. You must have some proof, and I want to know what it is. Please tell me. I’m trying to remember, and if what you say is true, it must have been wonderful, and I don’t want it to remain a mystery to me.”

  “It was wonderful. Both times. Since you ask, you’ve got two little red moles on the lower part of your left breast, one just above your belly button, and three almost where your left thigh joins your hip, pretty close to your venus mound. Right? And remember, as an ophthalmologist, I didn’t look below your neck, when you were under anesthesia.”

  “Oh, Mason, I’m so sorry I don’t remember.”

  “With your permission, madam, I should be honoured and pleased to joggle your memory.”

  Shivers danced all through her at the promise she heard in his low chuckle.

  “I’ll bet,” she told him dryly.

  “Don’t push it; it will come back, and my considerable experience tells me it won’t be long. Everything else there alright?”

  With his uncanny ability to sense problems where she was concerned, she wouldn’t be surprised if he suspected her morning encounter with the irate stranger.

  “Casper and I are fine, thanks.” Well, it wasn’t a lie, and he didn’t have to know everything, she told herself.

  “I could use a kiss.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Sure you could; you’ve got these wires for protection.”

  His laughter warmed her. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be with him.

  “Go ahead, tease me. I’ll haul you in here and get those tests and prove my suspicions.”

  Her heart skidded down a foot and into her belly. “What suspicions?”

  “My suspicion that Dr. Fenwick can discharge you and leave you to the mercy of Fenwick the man.”

  “Really?” she blustered. “In that case, place the order with the hospital out here, and I’ll get the test tomorrow.”

  “You’re pretty anxious,” he growled. “Challenging me again, are you? Alright. Call Dr. Betz there in about two hours, and be prepared to take the test tomorrow. No food or drink after seven this evening. I’ll call you late tomorrow with your test results. Meantime, from the minute you leave the hospital, fill up on protein and carbohydrates; you’re going to need them.”

  “You look after yourself, too, dear,” she advised sweetly, “and if you have any doubts about what to do, get in touch with Michael Jordan, Carl Lewis, or one of those other sports fellows, and find out what keeps them going.” The sound was that of tires screeching. But it couldn’t have been; Mason was a level-headed man.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him.

  “Just wait ’til I get my hands on you.”

  Warming up to their bantering, she baited him with, “Tell me what you’ll do,” and held her breath for his response.

  “Have you ever been hot and cold, wet and dry, crazy and sane, dying and bursting with life all at the same time?”

  Shivers of anticipation raced down her spine, and goose pimples covered her arms.

  “Not that I recall.”

  “I know you don’t, but I intend to remind you; and I doubt it will ever slip your mind again, no matter what happens.”

  “Hmmm. Pretty big talk for a guy whose principles always rule his libido and who’s never tempted to waver.”

  “Where’d you get that idea? Why do you think I slept on that chaise lounge on your back porch with my feet and half of my legs hanging off of it? If I’d gone to that guest room, I’d have taken you with me. That was willpower, and, if you want to test it, I’ll keep you busy ’til you scream for mercy.”

  “Ho hum. Talk’s easy done. I always heard that a man boasts of his feats because nobody else sees things his way.” She couldn’t help hugging herself when his deep warm laughter teased her ears.

  “I’ve forgotten how we got into this conversation, but you have a habit of giving me a hard time when I’m not around to make you eat your words. I’ll see you in a few days. Meanwhile, get plenty of rest, eat wholesome food, and conserve your energy.” The dial tone terminated his joyous laughter.

  “Oh, boy! I can’t wait,” she said aloud, and returned to her needlework, hoping for more revelations.

  * * *

  Mason pulled up in front of Rollins Hideaway and killed the motor. What would he say to Skip? The boy raced out of the building, ran up to him and stopped as though uncertain how to greet him. He put an arm around the child’s shoulder and received a powerful hug; he wouldn’t have thought Sk
ip strong enough to embrace him so tightly.

  “I know it hurts, son, but this is life. You have me now, and you are not alone. You understand that?” Skip nodded. “You and I have some business to attend to, and then we’re going home.”

  “But my job still has a week to run, and Aunt Laura’s depending on me. I can’t leave her in a mess.” They entered the Hideaway, and Geoffrey walked toward them.

  “Lucy and I will be more than happy if Skip could visit with us for a few days before school starts. She says he can learn advanced math, and she wants to teach him.” Mason fingered the keys in his pants pocket and made a decision.

  “Thanks. I appreciate that, but Skip and I have to learn how to be a family, and the sooner we start, the better. I’ll have less time next month when I resume my medical practice full time; after that, we won’t see much of each other. He and I will be down to see you, though, and we’ll always be in touch, Geoffrey.”

  The old man cocked his head to one side and looked Mason in the eye.

  “Only a fool throws away a diamond, son, and Jeannetta Rollins is a rare one. Don’t forget that. Give her our love.”

  Mason watched them get into the waiting taxi.

  “Why didn’t Laura or Clayton take them to the station?” he asked Skip.

  “They offered, but Mrs. Ames said she wanted to ride around the lake and look at the mountains before she leaves Pilgrim. What kind of business do we have, Dad?”

  “We have to get you relieved of your duties, and then we’re going home.” He explained to the boy while they walked up the stairs to their room that, in a few days, they’d have services for Mabel. He closed the door, kicked off his shoes and sat down, and, to his surprise, Skip brought him his house slippers. He looked at the boy and grinned.

  “I see fatherhood has its rewards. Thanks.”

  “I told you,” Skip said. “I’m going to take good care of you.” Both of his eyebrows arched.

  “Son, I’m only thirty-seven years old. You can take care of me when I’m eighty.”

  “Gee. Do I have to wait that long?” He couldn’t help laughing; he didn’t yet have Jeannetta, but this wonderful boy was his. His son. He gave silent thanks that they’d found each other.

  * * *

  Three days later, he and Skip began a new life. He took the boy to his office at the travel agency and introduced him to his staff, then to his medical office to meet his secretary and technician.

  Edna had gone for the day, but he found her notes: Steve wants you to call him, and Dr. Betz said the tests are great and he’s sending them by FedEx. He phoned Steve. He’d tell Jeannetta about the tests when he’d read them for himself.

  “Mason, can you stop by here? I need to talk with you.”

  “Okay, but Skip is with me.”

  Steve’s silence told him that the conversation would be personal.

  “Uh...okay. He can surf the Internet, and we’ll talk in the living room.”

  * * *

  “What’s up, Steve?”

  “Hi, Uncle Steve. Is it alright if I check out the Internet?” Steve nodded.

  “What’s this all about, man?”

  Steve motioned to a big overstuffed chair. “Take a load off your feet.” He went in the kitchen and returned with two cans of Pilsner. “Mason, a private investigator in one of the buildings that I service left a manila folder in the men’s room, and when I opened it to see whose it was, I saw your name. So I stopped and read it. The next evening, I took it to the private investigator who’d left it there and confronted him. I refused to return it to him until he told me why he was investigating you. He had no choice but to level with me, because the folder also contained records of several of his current cases. Jeannetta Rollins ordered the report when she was considering taking the tour, so she knew everything about you. That guy is so good that he has his name on his door in brass, and he sits two doors from the company president. I’m sorry, Mason, but, from where I sit, this isn’t squeaky clean.”

  * * *

  Mason pushed his beer aside, and his right hand automatically went to the keys in his pocket. Another left hook to the belly. He looked up to see his brother’s gaze locked firmly on him, but he didn’t reply. He didn’t want to react right then, because he needed to deal with his feelings in private. He loved his brother, but he couldn’t help feeling some hostility toward the man who had pricked his balloon. With her test probably clean, he had planned to release her the next day and to see her within forty-eight hours. He rested his head against the back of the chair and told himself to be fair. Steve was doing as he always had; he put his brother’s interests above everything else. Still, it wasn’t Steve’s place to judge her.

  “I have to let this set a while; then, if you want to talk about it, okay. But not now.” Steve nodded, but Mason knew that his brother wasn’t remorseful for having told him; he’d thought it over well.

  “How long have you known about this, Steve?”

  “A couple of days. I did a lot of thinking about it, and you do the same. Our daddy used to say ‘haste makes waste,’ so don’t do anything rash.” At Mason’s raised eyebrow, Steve corrected himself.

  “I know that last comment was unnecessary; I’d trust your judgment any day.”

  “You said you wanted to meet her; I’m going to arrange that.” Steve’s head turned sharply toward Mason, and he looked hard at his brother, seemingly unable to utter a word. “By the way,” Mason went on, ignoring his brother’s state of mild shock. “I met a guy, a homeless fellow I’d like you to try out. I’m not certain, but you might be his one chance.”

  “What’s special about this one?”

  “He’s an engineer who lost his business, his home, and his wife, in that order. He’s only been on the street for about seven months, so there’s hope for him. What do you say?”

  “Okay, I’ll give him a shot...if he wants it.”

  “I’m not sure he does, but he ought to have a chance. Thanks. I’ll get in touch with him as soon as I can.” A smile played around the corner of Steve’s mouth, almost unwillingly, it seemed to Mason.

  “I get a bang out of the way you tell a person to butt out of your business,” Steve said, as much to himself as to Mason. “Not a single unpleasant word,” he went on, as though bemused. “You merely change the topic. I can’t help wondering what you’d do if some unfortunate guy insisted on pulling your strings. What would you do?”

  “No telling. I need to think about what you said. Okay?”

  “Sure. How you deal with it is your business; I thought you should know.”

  * * *

  Mason got out of bed, turned off the air conditioner, opened a window, and let the cool night air soothe his body. She’d known him for over five months now, six if you counted their first meeting in March, and she’d had numerous opportunities to tell him about it, to apologize, to say she wished she hadn’t done it. Nothing. And how many times had he asked her why she’d decided to take the tour? Her answer each time was that she wanted to see the world. Granted that thirty thousand dollars was a lot of money, even for a two-month, first-class world tour, and a smart person would make certain of the sponsoring agency’s integrity. But she investigated him, not the agency, and she did it because her sole reason for taking that tour was to get him to operate on her. He couldn’t even blame her for that. But when she let him care for her, before she let him love her, she should have told him.

  He threw on a robe and headed for Skip’s room, needing the assurance that, at least, all was well with his boy. He blinked at the bright light.

  “Why aren’t you asleep?”

  “I couldn’t.” He pointed his finger around the room. “I got my own room, my own closet and bathroom, even my own radio and computer. You’re used to all this, but I always had to go out in the hall to the b
athroom. I can’t get over it. How do you expect me to sleep?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “You’ll get used to it, just as I did.” He told him of the way in which he and Steve had struggled after losing their parents, and of his debt to his brother. “For a few months, a while back, I forgot where I came from but, once I remembered, I started to straighten out my life. Don’t forget your roots, son; they’re a part of who you are.”

  “Yes sir, Mas...Dad, you gonna marry Jeanny, aren’t you?”

  He thought for a bit and couldn’t help being amazed that Skip could show so much patience, when the matter had become important to him.

  “You and I aren’t going to lie to each other, Skip. To be honest, I don’t know.” The boy sat forward in bed, his face crumpled with worry.

  “But don’t you want to?”

  “Yes, I want to, but we have things to work out, and we don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”

  “Want me to talk to her, tell her what a great guy you are?”

  He couldn’t help smiling. Innocence had its virtues; if nothing else, it allowed you to have hope.

  “I’ll take care of it, son. It’s something that I, alone, can do. Now go to sleep, because you’re getting up at seven o’clock.” He went back to his room, got in bed, and stared at the ceiling.

  * * *

  Jeannetta raced to the phone, wondering who would call her so early in the morning. She’d just returned from a walk along the beach and had taken Casper with her. The ringing stopped about the time she picked it up, so she went back outside, fed the dog, gathered some orange and yellow marigolds, put them in the dining room, and sat down to work. Half an hour later, the phone’s ring jarred the silence.

  “Hi.”

  At the sound of his voice, her whole body came to life, and tiny needlelike pricks danced along her nerves. “Hi, yourself,” she said, trying to sound casual.

  “I thought I’d have to take a ride out there. I rang half a dozen times and, when you didn’t answer...well, I didn’t know what to think.”