Healed by Love

by Ami LeCoeur

  A woman hissed, “Angela Marie,” before looking at me with a ‘sorry, but you really should get a room’ grin.

  Angela Marie? Seriously? I watched the little dark haired girl skip to her car, holding a huge waffle cone filled with pink and blue ice cream. I mouthed ‘sorry’ to the mother and was grateful when she gave me a thumbs up.

  I turned back to Thompson—had I called him Thom earlier? Right—that’s how he’d signed the note to me. Well, it suited him. It was a lot less formal than his full name, and maybe he’d get the hint and stop calling me Miss Maria all the time. “Well, Thom. Guess we better get that ice cream.”

  “Damn. I was hoping you were going to say we better get that room.”

  I smiled at him and ran a finger down his cheek. “I meant it, you know. I want to feel you inside of me. I just worry…”

  He hugged me to him tighter and kissed my forehead. “Worry about what?”

  I nuzzled my head against his shoulder so he wouldn’t see my face. “I worry that it won’t be good for you, having sex with a dead fish who can barely move or participate.”

  His head fell back and he roared laughter into the air. When he finally stopped, he said, “Do you know why I haven’t set you in your chair yet?”

  I looked at him, confused. “Because you like holding me in your arms?”

  He laughed again and kissed my forehead. “Well, there’s that. But also because I’m afraid I’ll get arrested for obscene behavior in front of a kiddie ice cream parlor.”

  Obscene? Ohhhh… my face grew hot. “So, I guess that means you really like me, hmmm?”

  He nodded his head up and down, slowly and deliberately. “You turn me on like I’ve never been turned on before. In a way I didn’t know was possible. As if a part of me had been dead before I knew you, and I had only been half living.”

  I felt my bones melt, and leaned forward to touch his lips with mine. He pulled away with a grin. “Hey now, I’m trying to be publicly presentable here. You aren’t helping.”

  Then he kissed my forehead and sat me in my chair. Now I was eye to eye with his public challenge. My insides stirred. God, I wanted this man. It took all my willpower not to raise my hand and trace the outline of his erection.

  His hand pushed my hair out of my face and I looked up at him. He sang ‘Mary had a little lamb…’ and I laughed out loud. He turned his back to me and kept singing while I snorted and howled behind him. Several minutes later, he turned back and I couldn’t stop my eyes from taking a peek. The erection was gone and I pouted.

  He rolled his eyes at me and stepped behind the chair, pushing me forward. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “You are so sexy.”

  I looked up at him, his face upside down from this angle. “That’s because of you.”

  “Me? What do you mean?”

  “You. You’re the one who makes me feel sexy. Every time I’m with you,” I grinned at him.

  “Then I need to be with you often.”

  Still looking up at him, I said, “And take the chance of continued public um… temptation?”

  He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The look he gave me melted my bones, but he said nothing, just pushed me through the doors.

  Chapter 10 — Thompson

  Holy fuckin’ shit.

  The air conditioning inside the ice cream parlor did little to cool the heat in my pants. Temptation indeed. It took every inch of my willpower to not toss her back in the Suburban and find that room the little girl had recommended. Lay her on a bed, peel the clothes from her body and sink into the warmth that waited for me.

  Instead, I was fighting against a raging erection while standing in line at an ice cream counter. I was an idiot. This was a terrible idea. Could we get it to go?

  “So, Miss Maria, what is your pleasure?” I asked, wheeling her up to the counter.

  She looked up at me and wiggled her eyebrows. “An order of Thompson, please?”

  I nearly growled at her.

  She laughed. “Pistachio. Definitely pistachio.”

  “With sprinkles?” asked the clerk, eyeing us curiously.

  “No, just the way it is. In a waffle cone.”

  “And for you?” the young girl asked as she handed Maria her treat.

  “Chocolate Cherry Crunch, in a cup. No sprinkles.”

  Maria laughed as I wheeled her to a window table.

  “What made you think of this?” she asked as she licked her cone.

  Damn. That tongue was mesmerizing, stroking up the curve of the ice cream. Its pink a beautiful contrast to the green.

  “Hello, earth to Thom,” she laughed, then slowly licked it again. Her eyes were shining. She was doing this on purpose. Paybacks must be had.

  “Sorry, what was the question?” I asked as I placed a spoonful of crunch in my mouth. I watched her eyes follow the motion and her breath become more shallow.

  “Uh, I was… um, wondering why… uh, you thought of… coming…” she blushed “... here.”

  I hid a grin and took another bite of my ice cream. “I like… coming… here,” I said and licked the bowl of the spoon.

  This was back firing. I was getting hard again. The look in her eyes as she watched went straight to my dick.

  “It’s Emily’s favorite,” I added, desperate to break this spell we’d found ourselves in. It worked. Saying my daughter’s name deflated me immediately. “We come here whenever we need a break. I figured things got a little strange in there, and maybe it was time for a change of scene.”

  “You’d be right about that,” she laughed, catching a drip before it hit the papers sitting on the table. I relaxed a little more. Apparently the spell was broken for her too. “Nothing like being a kid after the seriousness of having to be an adult. So, what did you think about that ‘agent’ business?”

  I shrugged. “Seems reasonable to me. Musicians and actors have agents. Why not an author/illustrator?”

  She eyed me silently for a moment. “They take up to 15% of the royalties, you know.”

  “But they help with negotiations and they do know the business.”

  She watched me for a moment longer. “I get your point. But did you know that this contract,” she pointed at the stack of papers on the table, “specifies the agent’s fee comes out of the author royalties? And that the royalties are figured at 8% of the net sales?”

  Only 8%? Hmm, I’m no math whiz, but… “That sounds like, for a ten-dollar book, that would mean eighty cents?”

  “No,” she corrected me. “It’s a whole lot less after they take out printing, promotion and other costs.”

  I frowned. Even eighty cents didn’t seem like a lot when you considered how much work went into everything. Still. “But they take care of advertising and all, don’t they? What other expenses are there?”

  “You’d think for 92% they’d take care of a whole lot, but they don’t say. AND, they only pay once every six months. Maybe I should send this to our family lawyer. He’d be able to give me some advice.”

  “Might not be a bad idea,” I said, thinking about all the connections Antonio Mancini must have. Surely he’d know someone in the publishing business. After all, he’d set up that showing at the Lakeside Gallery for Maria. And, I’d racked up some extra points with him lately. It wouldn’t hurt to find out if there was some way to help grease these wheels.

  Chapter 11 — Maria

  “Miss Maria! Miss Maria!” Emily giggled as she came riding into the front room, piggyback-style with her arms tight around Thom’s neck.

  “Well, Miss Emily! It’s good to see you too,” I laughed as her dad swung her over his shoulders and up into the air, shaking her before he set her down. She collapsed onto the sofa in a fit of giggles as he tickled her and she squealed in protest, obviously loving every minute of it.

  It was wonderful to have Emily at the house. It had been too long since I’d seen her, and I missed the sweet-solemn openness of her smiling face.

  “Da
ddy says I get to stay the whole weekend! Does that mean we can have some more adventures?”

  “Oh yes, I certainly hope so! I have some ideas already, but you get to be the one who picks.”

  “Awesome! I never get to pick at home. Only when I’m with Daddy.”

  I glanced over at Thom, raising my left brow just slightly, enough for him to catch my look. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod in return.

  “First, I think lunch is in order. How would you like a picnic in the backyard?” I asked. “We can start our adventures and planning there.”

  “Okay. That sounds like fun! And yes, I’m hungry. Can I help make lunch?”

  “Nope,” I said. “I got everything ready while you guys were on your way.” I winked at Thom. “There’s a picnic basket in the kitchen that your daddy can get—as soon as you pick out something to drink from the refrigerator.”

  ###

  We’d settled in the backyard, a flowered tablecloth spread on the ground, under my favorite tree. The same one I had painted for Angela. The one that holds so many childhood memories for the two of us.

  Thompson had helped me onto the ground. There was something so satisfying about feeling the earth under me. Even if I couldn’t really feel it, there was some small sense of pressure along my bottom and the back of my legs.

  I enjoyed watching Emily. She always took great care in eating her lunch. Neat and dainty, almost too neat in my way of thinking. Almost like a perfect little princess, which is how I’d come to think of her.

  “What a rad tree,” Emily said as she leaned back, tucking her arms under her head and looking up through the branches at the sky. “It’s like a big umbrella, a lace umbrella that you can see through.”

  Her description fit perfectly. Once again, I was tickled by this child’s creativity and powers of observation, even if I wasn’t quite sure what ‘rad’ was.

  “Yes, it’s one of my favorite trees. It’s also my sister’s favorite. We had lots of fun when we were your age, running around here in the backyard, making forts and playing out our make-believe.” I tried to keep the wistfulness out of my voice, remembering the scampering and make-believe fighting when we were young.

  Then I felt a flush of guilt. I might not have my legs now, but I did once. Emily, on the other hand, had never had the opportunity to run and play as fully as Angela and I. In that moment, I felt ashamed to be lamenting the loss of something this sweet child had never known.

  “Emily, would you reach into the pocket on my chair and bring me that green folder? I have something I think you’ll like.”

  She reached up from where we were sitting, and pulled out my portfolio, handing it to me with a smile. “What is it?” she asked.

  I unzipped the folder and slid out the two sheets on top, turning them so she could see the colorful illustrations.

  “Oh! Miss Maria! These are beeeeautiful!” She didn’t even try to disguise the excitement in her voice. “I love, love, LOVE them! Look Daddy!” She called to Thom who stood by the fence, pruning shears in one hand and two large-yellow dahlias in the other.

  He smiled, bringing us each a golden globe of petals.

  “What is it, sweetie? Oh, your book cover! Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” He smiled at me.

  “When will it be a real, live, book? I can’t wait! Can I take it to school and show my teacher? And my friends?”

  I looked up at Thom, one eyebrow raised. After our recent encounter with the publisher’s representative, I wasn’t sure if we’d ever get the book out.

  “Well, yes, of course you can,” he promised her. ”We’re just not sure when it’ll be published. Soon, we hope.”

  That was an understatement for sure. I hoped we could work things out and not disappoint her.

  “What else should we do this weekend? You have your choice, should we go see a movie or would you rather go to the aquarium?”

  “Oh! Fishies! Yes, please, let’s go to see all the fishiiiies.” She waggled her hands together, snaking up like a fish moving through water. “Can we watch the big ones - the ones that jump through the hoops?”

  Thompson smiled down at her beaming face. “You mean the porpoises? Yeah, I think so, we’ll make time for that.”

  I gathered the lunch dishes together, placing everything back into the basket. Thompson reached down and scooped me up into the air. I laughed as he slipped me into my chair without even a grunt. I liked the easy way he had of taking control of my well-being. I never had to worry about how I was going to get from one spot to another when he was around. And I never felt like it was anything out of the ordinary, either.

  “Me, Daddy, me!” Emily giggled. “My turn!”

  Thompson laughed, scooping Emily up into the air and placing her on his shoulders. He trotted around the yard, whinnying like a horse, pretending to buck.

  “More, Daddy, more,” Emily laughed.

  “Okay, punkin,” he laughed, swinging her around and setting her on the ground next to my chair. She grasped onto the arm and then reached for the crutches he passed to her.

  “Miss Maria,” she said, smiling at me. “Is the aquarium okay? We would have fun.”

  “Well, of course,” I told her. “I would love to see the fishies jump through the hoops too.”

  She turned back to her dad, the biggest grin on her face. “See!”

  We both burst out laughing at the same time.

  “I guess we better get this stuff cleaned up, then,” I said gesturing toward the basket and table cloth. “Maybe we can get ready for tomorrow by watching the Little Mermaid or Finding Nemo tonight then.”

  “Oh, yes! That would be amazeballs!”

  Thom and I looked at each other, wondering where the child got all these expressions. Emily noticed me trying to hide my smile. “What?”

  I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud. “Amazeballs?”

  Emily rolled her eyes, giving me a glimpse of what she’d be like in a few years. “Yes. Amazeballs, Miss Maria,” she said with a grin. “You really need to learn this stuff.”

  Chapter 12 — Maria

  Emily and I had spent the rest of the afternoon talking about our books, deciding which one we wanted to publish next. I didn’t have the heart to tell her there might be a delay, or that maybe they wouldn’t be published at all. And certainly I wasn’t going to say a word about the publicist’s comments regarding cashing in on our disabilities.

  “How are my girls doing?” Thompson asked from the door, smiling at us sitting there with my illustration boards scattered over the desk.

  We’d been lost in discussion as we poured over the images. Emily had taken a particular interest in two of the illustrations from our first book and I’d decided to have prints made as a surprise for her birthday.

  “Anyone ready for dinner?” Thompson tried again.

  Emily and I looked at each other as her stomach chose that exact moment to growl at us. We both started giggling.

  “Okay, then. I vote for Chinese. And you, ladies?”

  “Pizza!!” said Emily.

  I laughed. “Doesn’t matter to me. I have a cast iron stomach. You guys work it out.”

  “Pizza, Daddy, pleeeease!” she begged, bouncing up and down.

  “Do they make a Chinese Pizza?” I asked innocently.

  Thompson wrinkled his nose. “Good Lord, I hope not.”

  I laughed. “Then you better pick something that Emily likes. She does get to choose this weekend, you promised.”

  Thompson shook his head. “You girls ganging up on me?”

  “Of course we are,” I grinned, putting my arm around Emily’s shoulders. “What else do you expect?”

  “Okay, okay, I give up,” Thompson threw up his hands in mock surrender. “Pizza it is. Call it in for me, will you, Miss Maria?”

  “Chop suey or Mandarin beef, Mr. Thom?” I giggled.

  “Get a garbage pizza—the works. Large.”

  “Yay, yay, yay, we-get-pizza,” Emily sang out, altern
ating fists in the air as if she was an Olympic champion doing a victory dance. “But Daddy, no anchovies. I’m a fishie lover, not a fishie eater.”

  I tried not to snort as I covered my mouth to hide my laughter.

  ###

  “What’s that?” Emily asked as her father left, pointing to the small glass jar on the corner of my desk.

  “That’s a chrysalis,” I told her. “It came from the tree in the back yard.”

  “It looks like a dried up leaf,” she said, turning the jar as she looked at it more closely.

  “No, honey. It’s the home a butterfly lives in before it comes out into the world.”

  She tipped her head, giving me a strange look that made me laugh again.

  “Butterflies start out as caterpillars,” I explained. “When the time is right, they eat leaves and spin a cocoon or chrysalis that wraps around their bodies to protect them. Then they go into a special kind of sleep called hibernation. That’s when they change into butterflies.”

  She smiled down at the jar in her hand. “They’re all bundled up. Like they’re hiding.”

  “Well, not really hiding just sleeping.”

  “Sometimes I do that.”

  “You do?”

  She looked up at me, her eyes solemn but shining. “Sometimes Mommy has company over and she locks me in my room. I wrap myself up in my favorite blanket. It makes me feel safe. And then I look kinda like the krislist.”

  “Really?” Worry curled up my spine.

  “Mm hmm, and sometimes I even hide under my bed.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I tried to keep my face neutral, tried not to read too much into what she was sharing. This was the first time she’d ever spoken to me about her home life or her mother.

  “That sounds like a fun game.”

  She looked up again. “Why do the caterpillars change into butterflies?”

  I blew out the breath I’d been holding. “It’s part of their growing process. When they’re babies, they start out as caterpillars. They grow up to become a butterfly.”

  “I wish I could be a butterfly. Do you think I could grow up to be… like a butterfly?”