by Megan Alban
“Sorry about not catching your call, love, we are at the hospital. Sandra has gone into labor and John is in there with her telling her to breathe and asking if she needs ice.”
His voice held a hint of laughter, and she detected a little wistfulness.
“I’m here with young Laura, but we have no idea how long it’ll take. I may whisk her off to that cool little bookstore so we’ll be able to read or do puzzles.”
Celeste swallowed. He sounded so happy. “What’s Laura doing at the hospital? No school today?”
“Not this week. Some sort of holiday. She got lucky.”
Celeste heard the grin in his voice. She didn’t want to change that.
“That’s wonderful, Rayse. Just wonderful. I’ll get round there straight after the afternoon class.”
“Celeste? What’s wrong? Your voice sounds full of tears?”
She gasped and put her hand across her mouth as she struggled with her desire to howl.
“Love, where are you? I can come to you. Laura will be with me, but I’m here for you. Where are you, darling?”
She got her voice under control. “No need, sweet pea. You stay where you are. You have Laura to look after.”
“I can do both, be there for you and care for Laura. Now tell me, what’s wrong?”
“I just made the mistake of having lunch with my mother. Well, sitting at the same table is all really.” She couldn’t stop herself from going on. “She told me her and Dad broke up. He’s moved out and as she needs to rent the rooms to make ends meet, I get Monique. Permanently.”
There was silence.
“Well, we can figure out something for Monique. Something that works for us all.”
Celeste rubbed her forehead and pushed her thumb against her temple. “You don’t get it, Rayse. If anything bad happens to my sister, I would never forgive myself. Not ever.”
“Well, it’s not ideal, but this doesn’t preclude my moving in, does it? After all, your parents don’t get any say about us now, do they?”
Tears followed the contour of her cheek before they fell.
“I can’t do this now, Rayse. I just can’t do this.”
The silence lengthened.
“I see. Obviously, this is your decision to make. I sort of understand. I love you, you realize that, right? I’m prepared to do anything for you...but that doesn’t even count in the equation, does it? You want to do everything on your own. I get it.”
Celeste began to speak, but stopped. She saw the call had ended.
Staring at the phone, she realized she had almost certainly just lost Rayse. Why was she so stubborn? So inflexible? Why did she put him last, always?
She rose from the table, wiping her tears away, leaving her meal unopened, unnoticed.
Back at the houseboat, she canceled the afternoon lesson. She couldn’t stop the silent tears trickling down her face.
She stuck the card on the inside of the glass door, locked it, and went upstairs.
What had she done? Why was she letting other people’s mistakes ruin her life? She had never met anyone like Rayse. She certainly never loved a man as she loved him.
She realized now that she put him after her family every time because she believed he would always forgive her, but they wouldn’t.
She went into her bedroom and locked the door behind her so that Monique couldn’t come in. Quietly, she lay on the bed, pulling the quilt over her. Her body shook. She turned her face into the pillow. She gave so little, he gave so much. She had basically said he was another problem to deal with and she couldn’t handle it. No wonder he accepted her decision and hung up. What else was there to say? Even Rayse had his limits.
She muffled her sobs of anguish and despair.
***
Rayse leaned back in an armchair in John and Sandra’s sitting-room, relaxed for the first time since talking to Celeste. He waited for John to come down and join him after tucking in his eleven-year-old daughter, Laura, for the night.
He swirled the amber liquid around in his glass, listening to the clink of ice, barely audible over the muted rattle of rain against the long windows. A fire had taken the chill off the room and flickered quietly in the big stone fireplace.
He saw the flowers were drooping in a vase, lacking Sandra’s touch.
He heard John come in, and the flicking of a switch as the lights sprang to life, chasing the shadows into corners.
“Weren’t you aware of it getting darker, Rayse?”
“Yeah, but I liked it. It suited my mood.”
John went over to the tray of drinks and poured himself one. He lifted the bottle, his eyebrows raised as he caught his guest’s eyes.
“No thanks, still got this one.”
John came over and sank into his comfortable leather armchair with a sigh.
Rayse raised his glass to him. “Congratulations, Pop.”
John smiled, his eyes crinkling. He returned the salute, saying, “To Robin! I must admit, I had forgotten how tired one could get after having a baby.”
They sipped in silence for a few minutes. Desultory comments punctuated the stillness.
John put his drink down on the low cherry wood table beside his chair. “I was worried about her.”
Rayse nodded.
“Though I suppose she was safer than most, with the nanites. Still. I worried.”
After a few moments, John gave his head a slight shake. “Sorry, Rayse. I remember now you saying you wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Yes.” Rayse stared at the liquid he gently swirled in the cut-glass tumbler. “You are good at solving problems....” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m going to lose Celeste the way things are going. If I haven’t already. She told me Pearl chucked Harry out because he hasn’t got a job. Monique as well, because Pearl says she needs to rent out the rooms to make ends meet. Monique has moved in with Celeste, of course, as she’s pregnant with nowhere else to go.”
“Bummer.”
Rayse gave a wry smile. “My feelings exactly.”
John shifted in his chair. “There is something I find curious. I don’t know Pearl well, but she never came across as so intemperate. Focused, yes. In fact, a rather rigid person in some ways. But I would never have expected her to react in this way to Harry’s loss of a job.”
Rayse glanced at John. “That’s what Celeste said.”
“It’s possible your problem is in three parts: Why is Pearl acting in this way? How can we get Harry a job without his accepting any help? And how can Monique be helped in a way that doesn’t restrict Celeste’s and your relationship?”
Rayse snorted. “Is that all? You forgot world peace.”
John’s lips twitched in appreciation. “It may be easier than you think. Perhaps in solving Pearl, the other problems will begin to resolve themselves.”
Rayse leaned forward, the drink in his hands forgotten. “I remember Celeste telling me that Harry never had a successful interview in his life—his uncle got him the jobs. He’s shy too, and now he’s built up this huge fear of them. Pearl cutting at him about it did him no good at all.”
“Nobody enjoys interviews,” John observed. “Harry seemed perfectly comfortable when we celebrated his birthday in his favorite bar. I don’t mean he drank to excess, he just seemed at ease.”
“Pity he can’t do his interviews in a bar.”
John’s lips tugged down slightly, as he met Rayse’s eyes over his drink. “Perhaps he can.”
Their eyes held for a long moment.
“Oh.”
***
John regarded his tiny son with amusement and amazement as the babe latched onto the same rosy peak that he had taken into his mouth not a week before. “Hungry little devil, isn’t he?”
Sandra looked up from their son with a smile. “Takes after his father. He knows what he wants. My milk is coming in now, and he can’t get enough of it.”
Looking deeply into his eyes, she said, “Thank you, John.”
He thought of all they had been through to get to this moment, in this room. “I could say it was my pleasure, with all its meanings...but you are as aware as I am that every good thing in my life is because of you. Thank you, my darling.”
The contented silence was only broken by the occasional little grunt from the bundle at her breast.
“John, I forgot to tell you something I overheard when I stopped to rest, the day Robin was born. I got a cup of tea at that little café in the bookstore near the university. You know the one. There was a conversation going on in the background. I wasn’t listening to it, but all at once a name caught my attention. The women mentioned Pearl Williams. There was something about ‘she should have been eligible for tenure’ and ‘if she had followed the politics’ or something like that. And then they said, ‘What on earth is she going to do’? Darling, I think if it’s our Pearl, she’s got real problems. Do you think she might need a good lawyer?”
John grinned at his very rich and youthful wife. “You mean an exceptionally good lawyer at a ridiculously low fee?”
Sandra’s smile stretched into a grin. “That’s the one I mean.”
His eyes were warm as he regarded his wife. “Yes, she would never accept pro bono.”
***
Rayse glanced at his watch again. He turned back to the café window and stared toward the door of Jackie’s Bar across the street.
He pulled out his phone and checked for messages. Just a text from Sandra: Mom and baby doing well. He slipped it back into his jacket.
He thought about the fifty thousand dollars this was costing him and sighed. He didn’t begrudge it. He simply wasn’t sure it would work.
Mark had the facility, had inherited it from an uncle. What he didn’t have was enough of his own money to qualify for the loans he would need to get his microbrewery off the ground.
Rayse turned and, catching the server’s eye, indicated a refill.
At college, Mark spent more time searching out new beers than studying, but his grasp of chemistry was excellent and he had produced some rather good beers of his own, even as a student. He dropped out, and was now using the rest of his college funds to do the necessary alterations to the building, but that’s where his money stopped.
And that’s where Rayse came in.
He smiled at the girl as she poured for him, but his thoughts were across the road.
At first reluctant, Mark finally agreed to go to Harry’s local pub, Jackie’s Bar, and fall into conversation with Harry. No guarantees. Just two blokes chatting. If he liked what he learned about Harry, he would ask if he might be interested in a job. If not, no bones broken as Mark had said. On the other hand, if Harry came to work for him and worked out well, Mark would offer him shares to the value of Rayse’s start-up money.
Harry was never to know of Rayse’s involvement.
Pulling out his phone, Rayse seriously considered texting Mark, but put it back. He stared back across the street.
Moments later, the doors swung open and Mark and Harry came out and moved off along the sidewalk, talking animatedly.
Mark’s arm came up behind his back. His thumb pointed up.
Rayse leaned back with a release of breath. He signaled for the bill.
He paid and left with a spring in his step.
The girl that came to clear the table stopped and gave a small gasp.
Quickly, she slipped the generous tip into her apron. Her eyes were bright. She would have a good night after all.
***
April had passed and now, almost halfway through May, the roses and lilacs were in full bloom. The warm, scented air wafted through the open windows of Celeste’s bedroom on the upper level of the houseboat.
Rayse lay on his side looking down at her curled up next to him, asleep. The afternoon sun flooded the room, but she slept on. He smiled. There had been a lot of lost time to make up for and she had responded with enthusiasm to his need. No wonder she was exhausted.
He rolled onto his back and listened to the drowsy noises of the river on a warm Sunday afternoon. Fluid patterns of reflected sunlight danced around the ceiling.
Celeste turned toward him, one slender hand rubbing his chest briefly. She gave a little snort and snuggled closer.
He took her hand in his, regarding the deep lavender nail polish on her long oval-shaped nails. He liked the shape. He enjoyed the color. He carefully brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, one by one.
He grinned to himself. If he had seen that in a movie he would have rolled his eyes.
A little snuffle caught his attention.
“Rayse, honey, what are you doing with my hand?”
He smiled down into her eyes, appreciative of the thick lashes that had no need of mascara. “Doing stuff you can never tell any other guy about, got that?”
She raised her brows. “What can’t I tell about, white boy? What secrets are you hiding?”
Rayse rolled on top of her. He whispered as his tongue flicked down her slender neck. “A whole lot. But for starters, well, you can’t tell them how good you taste.” He found her full, warm lips. After a moment, he added, “You can’t say what you put into your lovely mouth last night.”
She wiggled under him, exciting him, as he cupped one of her generous breasts in his hand, smelling the feminine scent of her. He took the dark rose into his mouth, sucking it till she began whimpering her rising need. He ran one hand down to her tiny waist. He loved that it was so small and curvy. Taking her full buttocks into his hands as he lay covering her, he squeezed them, relishing the feel of them in his hands, and how it opened her more.
“You can’t say how many ways I took you, or the variety of ways you pleasured me.” He raised himself a little so he was gazing down at her. “What happens in the bedroom, my love, stays in the bedroom because I don’t want to share you, this, with anybody.”
Celeste looked up at him, searching his face. “You know, I like that. This is special. Just us.”
Rayse held her eyes as he moved one knee between her thighs, easing them apart. “You up for one more? I don’t want you to get sore.”
She reached up and pulled his head down. Her tongue slid in and explored his mouth. She threw her head back as his other knee pushed her legs apart, spreading her wide for him.
He teasingly prodded the sensitive wetness between her legs. One hand took his weight as the other searched through the short curls and found what it sought. Gently, he massaged the area as she started to moan, bucking against him. He kept moving his hips, prodding, tantalizing her. Deliberately not opening the way into her.
“Oh God, Rayse!”
She shifted, grabbing for him.
He gasped.
She lifted her legs, presenting herself to him, and slid him into her wet entrance, lifting her hips to follow as he withdrew slightly. She opened her eyes to see him smiling wickedly down at her.
“Say, please.”
She wriggled, as if to break the contact, but he held her with ease. Very slowly, he began to move into the heat of her. He paused. Just as she thought he would fill her.
“Rayse!”
“That works too.” He moved deeper. Then, slowly began to withdraw, glistening with her fluids. He almost exited, but then his slow descent began again. He pushed deep into her, pausing only to begin withdrawing. Again and again he made the agonizingly slow journey in and out of her.
She thrashed her head from side to side, moaning. Her nails bit into his shoulder muscles, her teeth gripping her lower lip. His musky scent filled her nostrils as she arched against him.
Gradually, he picked up the pace. She arched back, a suppressed cry swelling in her throat.
He heard his own breath coming in rasps as he began to plunge into her. Rising urgency blotted everything from his mind but the need...swelling, stretching, bursting inside him.
Suddenly, her legs clamped around him, holding him in her. He struggled, his sweat-covered body sliding against he
rs. He came in her, in violent jerks, lunging as deep as he could into her as she squeezed him desperately, milking every throbbing jet of sperm from him as he filled her.
He collapsed onto her. Their sweat mingling, even as they cooled, laying in each other’s arms.
Almost an hour later, after a solo shower, Rayse found his beloved clean and relaxed on the sofa, fingers curled around a mug of java. Her head was thrown back against a cushion. She was smiling.
He stooped to kiss her. He nuzzled her neck to catch the fading mango aroma of her body wash.
He poured himself a cup and came back and lifted her legs so he was able to sit down with her and lay them back over his lap. He gently rubbed her thigh through the peach silk dressing gown with one hand as he sipped at the hot liquid held by the other.
“Celeste.”
“Hmm, baby?”
“We need to talk.”
She raised her head slightly to smile at him before letting it fall back on the cushion. “Well, I’m not stopping you, sweet pea.”
He put down his coffee on the side table and began to massage her feet without even thinking about it. “No. But events have. Many times. The thing is, you’re aware I work with nanotechnology? Always the better, brighter nanite and so on?”
She put her arm behind her head so she could study his face. “Course I do.”
He stared at her foot in his hands. “Well, I don’t just create them. I have them in me.”
Celeste sat up, pulling her feet from his hands. She took his face into her hands. “Now, what are you telling me, Rayse Borg? Is this something I need to worry about?”
He stared into her eyes for what seemed a long time. “The nanites can’t hurt anyone. They are...designed to heal.”
She considered him. “Well, that doesn’t seem to warrant the solemn face. So what is the problem?”
Rayse got up and found himself pacing the width of the room and back. “These nanites are not on the market, Celeste, and they never will be. My dad developed them. They were too good. He was trying to limit their functions and life span.”
