Heather had been kissed in the years Marsha was away, but it had all felt so…wrong. This didn’t. This felt like coming home. It felt familiar. It felt…mmmmmm. She moaned her enjoyment as Marsha played with her lips.
Marsha’s hands were gentle as she began to caress the warm body, finding all the familiar spots that she knew so well. Tickling a little, smiling into the kiss as she teased her wife into arousal. She petted, licked, fondled, and caressed to her heart’s delight, her body rubbing sensuously against her wife’s.
Heather couldn’t believe how aroused she was. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t made love in all the years Marsha had been gone or perhaps it was just that she loved this woman so much. Marsha seemed to be reacquainting herself with Heather’s body. It wasn’t happening fast enough for Heather. The black-haired beauty was touching her everywhere except where she wanted her to be touched. Finally, in frustration, she grabbed Marsha’s hand and unceremoniously plopped it on her crotch.
Marsha nearly laughed. She’d wondered how long Heather could hold out. She might have choked on the laughter, but as she realized how wet the blonde really was, she groaned instead. Her fingers encountered the gush and she had to taste….
“No, I can’t bear it,” Heather panted, pulling at Marsha’s thick hair. “Fuck me,” she pleaded instead.
Marsha looked up, surprised at the language coming out of her wife’s mouth, and then grinned at the note in her plea. She obliged by sliding three fingers in and pulling them back out. She plunged again, a little harder, and watched as Heather’s eyes widened at the sensation. She was a little rough, but Heather seemed to need it. Her legs came up and wrapped around Marsha’s waist, urging her on. Her hands cupped at the soldier’s shoulders, her nails curling into the skin as her back arched.
“More, more, more,” she chanted as she panted.
Marsha couldn’t believe this was the same woman she had left. For a moment, she suspected Heather had been unfaithful, but then she squashed that thought. Heather was too honest and had told her how distasteful the dates had been that she forced herself to go on. Their few friends had encouraged her to move on, but Heather had only been able to try; she hadn’t enjoyed them. Marsha concentrated on putting her hips into her thrusts, rubbing on the hard little nubbin beneath the ball of her thumb.
Heather’s head thrashed back and forth as she fought the rising tide, but it was useless to fight. She’d waited far too long and it crashed over her. Her body broke out in a sweat as she quickly captured Marsha’s lips so she could scream into her wife’s mouth.
Marsha held Heather’s lips with her own, enjoying the feel of the convulsions in her wife’s body beneath her own. She could feel the quiver in Heather’s legs as the orgasm went on and on and her body squeezed the life out of Marsh’s fingers.
Heather finally lay beneath her, totally limp with what had been wrung out of her. Normally she liked to prolong the orgasm, maybe pull a second, even a third out of her body, but the tide of this one had rolled over her so intensely that she had just gone along for the ride.
“Are you okay?” Marsha asked in a whisper, her warm lips kissing the life back into her wife’s ice cold lips. The blood had drained out of them and focused in her center. She warmed her wife’s body with her own, pulling the covers up for them both.
Heather nodded weakly and went to push back her hair.
“Wait, what is that?” Marsha asked sharply, seeing something. “What the hell? It’s blood!” she gasped. She pulled back and looked between them to see if Heather was on her period or if she had thrust too hard. She was horrified at the thought that she might have hurt her wife, even unintentionally. She turned to reach for the baby rag she had left on the bed and heard Heather gasp. She turned back immediately and asked, alarmed, “What?”
“It’s your shoulder. It’s bleeding,” Heather replied, worriedly.
“It is?” she asked stupidly, trying to see her own shoulder and crossing her eyes. She shook her head.
“Wait a minute,” Heather ordered and quickly got on her knees to lean over and grab the rag Marsha had reached for. She saw the nail marks and what she had caused. Both shoulders were bleeding, just slightly, but enough that when she had brushed her hair back she had wiped blood across her forehead. “I better get bandages,” she said contritely.
Marsha grinned. She saw that Heather looked embarrassed at her own passions. “Let it sit for a minute. The air will dry it,” she told her as the blonde blotted at the scratches.
“It’s not funny!”
“Yes, it is. Neither one of us knew you did that when you were in the throes,” she giggled.
“Still not funny,” she griped, trying not to smile as she remembered the feelings her wife had engendered in her.
Marsha tweaked a nipple that was leaning against her as Heather blotted with the rag.
“Hey!” she yipped.
“Shhh, you’ll wake the kids,” she warned.
“Then keep your hands to yourself!”
“Yes, ma’am,” she saluted and then took the rag to wipe away the smeared blood on her wife’s forehead. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“You caused it,” the accusation hung between them.
“I’ll take that.” She smiled as she leaned in for a kiss, finding Heather’s lips much warmer now. “Are you okay?” she repeated her earlier question. She smiled again when the blonde nodded and looked up at her with her cornflower blue eyes. She began to look a little sleepy as she laid back against their pillows. “Oh no, you are not going to sleep tonight,” she promised.
“We have children,” she was reminded.
“We will all take naps together then.” She looked at her wife with a lascivious look and leaned in for another set of kisses that was getting interesting. They began to roll around on the bed together once again and before they knew it the sun was coming up and it was time to feed Liam again. Neither seemed to mind their lack of sleep, feeling amazingly refreshed. They even managed to get clothes on before the other children got up.
* * * * *
“Any flashbacks?” the therapist asked once Marsha confessed she had finally made love to her wife.
“No. You would think I would have, but making love to my wife is nothing like being held down by those men.” She stopped for a moment as the memories of her rape…rapes assailed her for a moment. She swallowed, knowing she was being watched closely by the therapist for signs of discomfort or attempts at hiding anything. “I try not to think about those times. They have nothing to do with Heather. They have nothing to do with making love to my wife. I even sometimes convince myself that they have nothing to do with the conception of my children.”
“You realize, logically, that you can’t suppress those memories forever. It was a traumatic experience. Dealing with it is the only way you can put it behind you.”
She nodded as she agreed, but she wasn’t going to go into detail about the many rapes she had endured over the years. They knew the basics. She had been gang raped until Zabi claimed her as his own. From then on, he, and only he, raped her for the purpose of procreation. He wanted sons…many, many sons he told her. She’d given him one. Now there were two of his blood and they would never know him if she had anything to say about it. His petition had shaken her, but she was determined to ignore it. Maybe it would go away. After all, he didn’t know for certain where she was. She might have died in the wilds of Afghanistan and she prayed he believed that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Maybe we should think about buying a house. We have enough left for a down payment,” Marsha suggested a few days later as they hung out in the living room with the children. She was trying to do more so that the child rearing wasn’t completely left up to Heather, who, while she enjoyed it, was frequently overwhelmed.
“What brought that thought on?” Heather asked from where she was sitting on the couch trying to get Amir asleep so that he wasn’t so crabby. It was past his nap time a
nd Bahir was already asleep. Marsha was changing Liam.
“I was just thinking we are going to need an additional bedroom,” she answered, but what she was really thinking was, ‘if they moved it would be less likely that Zabi would ever find them.’
“Shouldn’t we wait until you decide if you are going back or…” she left off as they had discussed many times whether Marsha should stay in the army or leave.
“Yeah,” she sighed as she finished the diaper and smiled down at the little boy. His face lit up a little, but he was too young to really return the smile. “I suppose I should wait to hear if Captain McKellan is able to get that other promotion out of them.”
“Do we have to continue to go to see the psychologists?”
Marsha glanced up as she snuggled Liam into her arms. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I thought you liked going?”
Heather nodded. “They helped, they helped a lot. I didn’t know I was angry at you for being gone. I’m glad that got aired, but I am wondering if I still need to go?”
“That’s up to you,” she nodded at her wife’s explanation, but she knew she would need to go for a while as they tried to get her to talk more about what had happened to her. Years of practice at not speaking at all were hard to break. The little, mundane facts she told of her life in the village didn’t delve into the things that might affect her later on. Still, they were pleased that she had seemingly adjusted so well. There were days, though, where a sound or something would trigger feelings of anger, morose, and danger. She had wanted to walk out a few times and talking about it helped. She had responsibilities to her four children and wife and she couldn’t leave Heather with all that again.
She was surprised to learn that she had suppressed memories. Slowly, some of them came out, but the psychologists and Marsha both felt they hadn’t gotten to them all.
She was also surprised to find how angry she was at her mother for years of a type of abuse that strangely reminded her of how Malekah had treated her. The domineering overriding of anyone else’s opinions or concerns, that need to be right at all costs. In Malekah’s case, she felt she was a queen and that Marsha was merely giving birth to her husband’s children for her. With the therapists, she discussed this anger and the dual feelings of resentment for her mother and the similar feelings she had towards Malekah.
“You should have heard her hit the roof because Liam’s name was Liam Lawrence instead of Lawrence Liam. My brother has a Larry in his family. Why would I do that to a kid? This way, a man that my wife adored is honored and my own father as well.”
“How did that make you feel?”
Marsha hated these almost rhetorical questions that made her come up with her own solutions. She knew why they did it, but it still annoyed her. “It pissed me off. It’s not like we asked her opinion. It’s our son and we can name him anything we want. If she doesn’t like it, too damn bad!”
The therapist smiled—today it was a woman. She liked this feisty soldier. Marsha was doing well, but only because she saw things logically. Her PTSD was there. They hadn’t scratched the surface of it, but there were other issues, like the ones with her mother that they needed to work out as well. It would just take time. After all, she had years of abuse to overcome.
* * * * *
“Maybe you should spend more time with her?” Heather suggested as Marsha complained at her lack of connection with Hayley. She was getting dressed again because Liam had spit up all over the outfit she had been wearing, and Hayley had somehow missed the school bus.
“What do you suggest I do?” She was feeling bad because she and the little girl just didn’t get along.
“Why don’t you go pick her up today and take her somewhere, just the two of you?” She stopped what she was doing.
“And leave you alone with the other three? That doesn’t sound quite fair.” She thought the idea a good one, but she really didn’t want to leave Heather alone with all the responsibility. “Maybe I could at least take Bahir.”
“That would defeat the purpose of you and Hayley bonding. If you spend time alone with her, she has to get to know you a little better.”
Marsha shrugged. “What will we talk about?”
“What do you and Bahir talk about?”
“Nothing really.” She tried to think if she really talked to her children about anything these days. She’d been so busy being debriefed by the army, having a baby, coping….
“Then go pick her up from school and talk about nothing in particular,” Heather advised with a laugh and nearly shoved her out the door.
“And, and, and…I have my sister Bahir, which means spring, and my brother Amir, which means king, and my new brother Liam, but…I don’t know what his name means. He’s a baby and makes a lot of noise. My mom has to take care of him all the time.” Marsha heard as she walked up to the kindergarten class. She was grateful she had ridden along when she could so she knew where the school and classroom were.
“Your other mom is home now too. Isn’t that exciting?” she heard a female voice talking to Hayley.
“She’s okay. She’s fun sometimes and very sad other times. She came home all the way from Afghaniie-stan. I don’t think she likes me.”
“You don’t think so? Why?”
“She had Bahir and Amir so long and they are hers. I’m my mom’s.”
“I’m sure she loves you.”
“Nuh uh, she loves Liam and Amir and Bahir because they all have the same mommy and daddy. Liam just came out of her!” She sounded in awe of that last statement.
“I’m sure if you talked to her she’d tell you that she loves all of you.” With that the woman glanced up and saw a woman that could only be Hayley’s birth mother. Hayley looked just like the black-haired woman. When she had first met Heather, she had thought Hayley’s face looked like her. Now, seeing her birth mother, she realized her mistake. The child was a mini image of her mother. She smiled, wondering just how much of their conversation the mom had overheard. “Hayley,” she turned the little girl so she could see the woman, “is this your mom?”
Hayley nodded and smiled shyly, relieved that she hadn’t been forgotten.
“I’m sorry, Hayley. Liam was sick and Mom couldn’t come to pick you up today. I tried to get here sooner when I heard you missed the bus.”
“It’s okay, Mommy. I sat and talked to Miss Anderson,” she indicated the now red-faced woman sitting next to her.
“Miss Anderson,” Marsha came forward and held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’ve been looking forward to it for a while. Hayley was pretty excited to have you home and to meet her brother and sister.” She shook the woman’s hand—a strong, firm handshake—and released it.
Marsha almost said, “I heard,” but seeing the blush on the woman’s face decided to pretend that she hadn’t. “Are you ready to go, Hayley?” she asked the little girl with a smile. Her eyes showed that she adored the little girl. Inside, her heart was breaking for what Hayley had revealed to her teacher.
The little girl skipped to a desk and grabbed her backpack. “Let’s go,” she said. “Bye, Miss Anderson!”
“Goodbye, Hayley. See you on Monday.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Anderson. I’m sure we will be seeing more of each other in the future.”
“I hope so, Mrs. Gagliano. Have a good day.” She watched as the two left her classroom, Hayley’s hand firmly in Marsha’s, skipping along happily. She wondered how hard the adjustment was, coming home after all those years apart.
* * * * *
“Well, Hayley, Mom and I decided that tonight was date night for you and me,” Marsha told the little girl after she was buckled in the back of the van.
“Date night? What’s that?”
“Just a night for you and me. No one else.”
“No Bahir?”
“Nope,” she shook her head.
“No Amir?”
“Nope, just
you and me.”
“No Liam?”
“No, and you wouldn’t want him along anyway. He was spitting up.”
“Yuck.”
Marsha nodded in agreement. “Yeah, yuck.”
“Mom isn’t coming either?”
Marsha’s nod turned to a shake of her head. “No, she said it was just you and me tonight since we don’t get to spend much time alone. So, where would you like to go?”
In the rearview mirror, with the flip down for children, she saw the little girl seriously thinking about the question.
“Could we go to Chuck E. Cheese’S?” she asked, hopefully.
“Chucky Cheeses it is,” she answered, not realizing she’d mistaken the name. “Do you know where it is?” She couldn’t for the life of her remember.
“It’s by the mall,” the little girl said, full of self-importance since she knew something Marsha didn’t.
Yeah, but which mall? There were strip malls galore. Several new ones had appeared since she had lived here, as well as the large one. Marsha headed towards the one nearest their home and luckily it was large enough she could drive around it. Chuck E. Cheese’S was on the far side. The logo had a rat in a wedge of cheese on it. Charming, she thought, knowing she was going to have a headache from the noise of children. Still, it was date night for her and Hayley and the only way they could spend time alone together. She was determined to bond with her oldest child. Heather’s idea was a good one.
Having never gone to a Chuck E. Cheese’S restaurant before, she wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming noise of the children playing as well as the machines and games intended to suck her wallet dry and entertain the children.
“Let’s play first and then eat,” she suggested, pleased with the enthusiastic nod she got from Hayley.
They played a game that allowed them to bop animals that popped up out of holes, then they bowled a game that took the balls into curved targets. When they won, they got paper tickets to buy more junk from behind the counter. Hayley wasn’t very coordinated at six, but her efforts were such that Marsha attempted to win as many of those stupid tickets as possible so she could buy the plastic junk and feel accomplished from her efforts. Finally, they sat down and ate pizza and drank soda among the noise and hoopla.
Veil of Silence Page 22
