Love Uncharted

by Berinn Rae

  By the time Blake got to the bathroom, she was waving the box of bath crystals triumphantly over her head, doing the ‘I’ve-got-the-ticket-home’ dance.

  Blake ran to the linen closet. Then she heard him in the kitchen. It sounded like he was tearing it apart. On his return, he held towels and a bottle of champagne in his left hand and two glasses and two glasses in the other. “We might as well toast to the moment,” he said, a man who had a plan, confident in its success.

  Alex drew the water while Blake poured the bath crystals into the tub.

  “More. We need more. We’ve got a long way to go home,” she said. “I’m not sure how far away it is in physical miles, but it sure seems like light years! More. More, wimp!” Alex took hold of Blake’s arm and turned it so the remainder of the crystals in the box fell into the tub. “That should do it, don’t you think?”

  “You just dumped three-quarters of a box of bath crystals into the tub.”

  “Yeah, well, I want to be sure this works — the more–is–better theory!”

  “Oh.” Blake looked thoughtful. “It does go against the grain of ‘less is more’ doesn’t it?”

  His girlfriend paid him scant attention. She was already stripping her clothes off.

  “Blake. Take those clothes off, baby.” Impatience raised Alex’s voice to a mouse’s squeal.

  He tore off his T–shirt, tossing it aside mindlessly. He fumbled with his belt, hastily unbuckling it. His fingers worked quickly to unsnap his jeans. Then he grabbed his zipper, tore the latch down and wiggled out of his pants, his hips doing double time to help drop them down.

  Next he tore off his underwear. He was about to step into the tub when he heard, “Focus, Blake, focus. Socks, baby, socks! They gotta come off, too.”

  “Oops! Haste makes waste!”

  Nearly naked, Alex glanced by chance at the tub. Oh, no! The spigot was still running and the water threatened to overflow at any moment. She quickly bent over to turn the water off. Bubbles covered everything, the water in the tub, and the floor beneath and surrounding the claw-foot tub.

  The two stood there, stark naked, looking at the bubbles seemingly grow by the minute. Blake grabbed Alex’s hand and eased her into the tub, her weight displacing some of the water, causing it to spill out onto the floor. He then turned around to snatch the champagne and the two glasses.

  He didn’t see Alex. “Love? Love? Where are you?” Her head popped up from above the expanse of bubbles. “Here! Here and ready to go!”

  “A glass for my fair lady.” She held the vessel while he poured. Then Blake climbed into the tub, poured himself a glass, and placed the champagne bottle on the floor amid the soap bubbles.

  “To home!” Alex squealed. “To home. And love.” They both gulped down the alcohol. Then Alex announced, “On the count of three, our new mantra — one, two, three … ‘Calgon! Take me home!’”

  Both had closed their eyes. Alex felt the muscles of her body tighten in anticipation of the indescribable transformation from the chapters of JJ’s life back to the pages of their own love story.

  A beat passed. They opened their eyes. Instead of the familiar setting of their own world, they were still in JJ’s tub.

  “That’s okay.” Alex’s eyes filled with tears, her voice shaky, nearly cracking. But still she smiled. “Let’s try it again.”

  Blake reached down, took the champagne bottle and poured two more glasses of bubbly. Again they toasted. “To home. To love.” And after they drank the champagne, they shouted, a little louder this time, “Calgon! Take me home!”

  Eyes closed once more, muscles tightened with expectation. Nothing happened, again! They were still in the tub, still surrounded by acres of bubbles.

  Tears now streamed down Alex’s cheeks. The frustration of another scheme not working was proving too much for her and was heightened by the effects of the champagne.

  Blake, undaunted, urged they try one more time.

  “Oh, what’s the use?”

  “Buck up, pilgrim!” Blake slurred, instinctively reaching for the now nearly empty bottle of champagne.

  Again they toasted. Then a slightly inebriated Blake, shouted, “Calgon! Take us home!”

  Even though the attempt failed to work, Alex brightened a bit. “Maybe we’re supposed to say it three times like in the Wizard of Oz?”

  “Right-o. Bloody good thinking.” Under stress Blake’s English accent became more pronounced.

  Again, Blake poured the champagne. “Oops! That’s the end of the champagne,” he said. Another toast and then they began the jingle, “Calgon, take us home! Calgon, take us — ”

  Bam! Bam! Bam! Someone was knocking at the bathroom door. “I wonder who that could be at this hour?” Blake asked. Alex giggled.

  “Blake! Alex! There hallway is soaking wet. There’s water everywhere? What in blue blazes is going on?” It was JJ.

  “Well, that answers who’s at the door,” Blake offered. He hiccupped.

  JJ opened the door. She stood absolutely still for a moment. “My floor! My bathroom floor is flooded with soapy water. What are you two trying to do now?”

  Then she saw the empty box of Calgon bath crystals. “Never mind. I can only imagine. I want you out of there right now, the floor dried, and you guys dressed, for crying out loud!”

  Slam! She was gone.

  Alex burst into tears. Blake sat helplessly amid the bubbles and listened to her sob.

  “I never knew such a small room could spin so fast!”

  Chapter 32

  “Do you know what day it is?” Alex asked JJ as the three of them went through their ritual scrambling around the house getting ready to leave for campus one morning.

  “Nope,” JJ replied, not missing a beat in her routine. “But I’ll take a guess. Is it National-Take-Your-Portuguese-Water-Dog-To-Lunch Day?”

  “No, it’s your anniversary,” Alex could see that her creator wasn’t giving this day the gravity it was due.

  JJ abruptly stopped pouring her coffee and stared at Alex, who was busy quickly checking the contents of her backpack.

  “My anniversary?”

  “Yup!”

  “And I was supposed to remember this anniversary commemorating I–don’t–know what?”

  “Yup! I thought you would at least. After all, you’re the romance writer, not me.”

  “That’s true,” JJ said slowly, thinking carefully before forming her words. “But you are my romantic creation. Sometimes you view life a little differently than I do.”

  That seemed a much nicer way of saying she was a total romantic lunatic. But, heck, what can you expect? She normally lived inside the pages of romance novel.

  “It’s your one-month anniversary.”

  “Okay … my one-month anniversary of what?”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re asking that!”

  “I can answer that in two words,” Blake announced as he entered the room. “Grilled cheese. And if that doesn’t explain it, it’s been a month since you and Professor Cooper made passionate love for the first time.”

  “Blake!”

  “Well, it is!” He shrugged his backpack over his right shoulder.

  “And even you remembered this anniversary?” JJ asked him.

  “No, not until Alex reminded me when we went to bed last night.”

  “You two were discussing my love life in bed last night? Is nothing sacred?”

  “Sure. Many things are,” Blake said. “But apparently not your love life.”

  The writer placed the lid on her to-go cup. “And what do you suggest I do with this information? Run and tell Kenn about it?”

  “Well …” Alex’s voice trailed off.

  “No, I will not!”

  • • •

  “Good morning, son!” The familiar voice sang into Kenn’s landline. He was still waking up. He had programmed his coffee pot to start brewing at 6:30 A.M. and the smell caressed its way to his bedroom. He urged his e
yes to open. “Mom? Do you know what time it is?” He laboriously raised his body to a sitting position.

  “Of course I do, dear. Six–thirty. And I’m also aware of what day it is!”

  “Is it some type of holiday?” Kenn thought it was too early to play guessing games. But if it was some holiday he forgot and there were no school … he could lounge in bed a bit longer. Betting it wasn’t a national close-the-school holiday, he tossed the covers off him and began the trek to the kitchen. Somehow he knew he would need the caffeine to help him deal with this conversation.

  “It’s your anniversary.” Kenn pulled a cup out of the cabinet over the coffee pot. He inhaled its robust aroma.

  “My anniversary?” He poured his coffee. Oh, yeah, he was going to need this.

  “Technically, yours and JJ’s.”

  “And what anniversary is that?” Kenn took a satisfying drink.

  “It’s been one month since you and she made love.”

  Kenn choked on his coffee, coughing loud and long.

  “Kenn, are you all right?”

  He finished coughing, catching his breath long enough to speak. “Mom, don’t you think that’s rather private information?”

  “It’s not like I shared it with my book club or anything.”

  “No, but it’s a bit unsettling my mother would know anything about my love life, let alone keep track of it.”

  Before his mom could answer, he continued. “No, let me take that back. It’s downright creepy.” He clicked the phone off.

  • • •

  A month, JJ thought as she started her car. She waited until Alex had backed the MINI Cooper out of the garage, their unspoken routine, and then put the gearshift into reverse and followed behind them. After the initial delight of finally succumbing to making love, the month, she mused, had settled into a wonderfully satisfying, loving routine. One she thought she would never experience again after the death of her husband.

  She rarely spent an entire weekend at home, she noted. Either Friday or Saturday night (occasionally both!) she spent overnight at Kenn’s. Usually, they shared a quiet dinner that they had made together. Some stimulating conversation afterward … then deep, sensual lovemaking before falling asleep in Kenn’s arms.

  The weekdays seemed to be just as fulfilling. The team-taught conspiracy course was a success beyond anyone’s expectations. Not only were the students fully engaged in constructive, lively discussion, Kenn also respected her openness. He finally admitted he admired the thoroughness of her research, even if he didn’t always agree with her.

  And, JJ mused as she wended her way into a faculty parking spot, there were those delightful lunches and cappuccino breaks at the Physics Café. They would talk about anything from news, to office gossip, to quantum physics (go figure!), to spiritual matters.

  The finishing touch, though, was the ability to carve time to work on her novel. She had developed a theory of her own regarding the return of Alex and Blake to the pages of their own book. She could only pray her theory worked.

  • • •

  As Kenn drove onto campus he had to admit the month had flown by in an amazingly satisfying way, even though he still thought it was creepy that his mother was the one who pointed it out to him.

  He thought he would never recover from the blow of breaking up with his last girlfriend. He knew when he saw JJ in the bookstore that day, that she could be “the one” to change all that. He couldn’t readily pin down his exact need to find his true love. He was only beginning to understand the implications this term from reading JJ’s novels. But he knew the first impression she had of him was as a pompous ass. Heck, how could it have been anything else?

  And he was relieved when through some amazing coincidences he was able to correct the situation. Okay, so it wasn’t the second or even the third impression at Rob and Nan’s nor was it the third … He knew that regardless he was one lucky pompous ass that she even gave him a chance!

  Along the way he learned she was dealing with some issues of her own. It’s now been a month of utter perfection. Who saw that coming?

  • • •

  Alex drove to the campus, Blake in the passenger seat, his legs doubled up, his hair bouncing every which way with every bump in the road.

  “Okay. I’m beginning to worry about my latest theory on returning home,” Alex said.

  “Why’s that?” Blake looked over to his love. “And, by the way, what is your latest theory?

  “Blake, darling, you know darn well what it is. I figured that once JJ and Kenn found each other, our work here would be completed and we’d be magically transported to the pages of our book.”

  Blake took a deep breath, savoring the delicious cadence and natural lyrical tone of her voice.

  “They’ve been together for a month now, Blake. Plenty of time to know they were made for each other. So why aren’t we home yet?”

  Blake thought he detected a tear or two in the eyes of the beautiful woman sitting next to him. He also felt frustrated because his schemes to get them home always fizzled. He experienced little failure when he was living in the novel. He wasn’t used to it — and he didn’t like it one bloody bit!

  He felt compelled to offer an explanation, but he was at a loss for one. The best he could do was offer reassurance. Eventually, they would get home. Now he just had to plan how — again!

  Chapter 33

  Kenn swung his car into the faculty parking lot by the history department building, got out and beeped it locked with his remote key.

  He was still smarting from his mom’s knowledge of his one-month anniversary with JJ. And more embarrassed perhaps that she had used the night they made love as the anniversary marker. Parents weren’t supposed to know facts like that about their children.

  At least it’s staying within the family, he thought. It could be so much worse. He walked into the departmental office before going to his own. He retrieved documents from his mail cubicle, and then turned to talk to Deb.

  “Beautiful flowers. Who sent them to you?”

  Deb looked up from the computer screen with the smile of a Cheshire cat pasted on her face.

  “Your mom,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

  “Why did my mother send you flowers?”

  “So I could give them to you.”

  “Give them to me?”

  The professor knew there was a story behind all of this. And he was afraid to find out. Sighing, he finally said, “Okay, I give up. Why is my mother giving me flowers?” Beautiful red roses at that.

  “If you want to get technical,” Deb said, as her eyes danced with glee, “they’re really not for you.”

  Kenn knew he really didn’t want to dig any deeper in this mystery, but he was in too deep to pull out. He also noticed that Deb was enjoying this cat and mouse game just a little too much.

  Sighing, though he already knew the answer, he asked, “Do I even want to know who they’re for?”

  “JJ.”

  “Did she happen to tell you why I would want to give JJ flowers?”

  “Oh, yeah. She sure did, Professor Cooper.” Now Deb’s eyes were gleaming with devilish delight. “She told me this was your one-month anniversary of you and Professor St. Clair making — ”

  “Don’t go there!” He interrupted. “I’m sure she was graphic in your explanation.”

  All Deb could do was shake her head and grin. Yep, just as Kenn thought.

  The secretary stood, picked up the vase and handed it to him.

  He reluctantly accepted the vase. He was already trying to decide how to explain to JJ how everyone in the universe seemed to know it was their one-month anniversary.

  • • •

  “Have you been talking to Alex already this morning?” JJ looked stunned when Kenn walked in with a dozen red roses and wished her a happy anniversary.

  “No, I haven’t! Why?”

  “No offense, Kenn, but I really didn’t expect you to even consider a month as an anni
versary — let alone remember it with roses.”

  JJ hesitated, and then decided the truth was the best route. “Actually, I wouldn’t have thought of it if Alex hadn’t announced it this morning.”

  Kenn flashed his trademark boyish smile at her. JJ knew immediately there was a story behind this present. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next, suddenly assuming the appearance of a shy schoolboy asking the most popular girl to the dance.

  “If you’re thinking I’ll get angry because you didn’t remember this date on your own, don’t worry about that. I’m the romance writer and I didn’t have it marked on my calendar. And you know how we romance novelists are.” She grinned as she reminded Kenn of his opinion of “her ilk” on their first encounter.

  He placed the vase on her desk.

  Her office acquired an eerie silence. “It wasn’t Alex who reminded me. But someone did bring it to my attention,” Kenn spoke quietly. JJ thought he purposely spoke in a low voice, almost a murmur, to muffle his answer.

  “Well, then, who reminded you?” she asked after several moments had passed.

  Kenn remained quiet. By God, he was blushing! That could only mean one thing! “Your mother? Your mother reminded you of this anniversary!”

  “Well … ” Kenn continued rocking on his heels.

  JJ chuckled. “I remember her calling that Sunday morning. I can see her now, marking it down on her calendar.”

  “You’re not furious my mother knows?”

  “I think it’s funny.”

  JJ paused, then, trying to credit Kenn with something before he completely lost face, she said. “I do love the flowers you chose. They’re beautiful.”

  “Yeah, well about those … uhm … well, they weren’t completely my doing.”

  JJ raised her eyebrows. The plot thickens. “Let me guess. Your mom had them delivered to you to give to me?”

  “Not exactly. My dear mother called Deb Dilley yesterday, informed her of the occasion, and sent flowers directly to Deb for me to give to you.” He paused, waiting for a reaction.